Oasis is Hell - Exalted 2ed - IC

[Gargulec]

Tomescu howls echoed through the Demon-City, the sharp cries of a creatures understanding their doom momentarily flooding the streets, drowning all other many sounds of Malfeas for an instant. And then, as suddenly as they begun, they were cut in half, and usual clangour of this dammed realm surfaced again.

A new day has dawned over the realm of the fallen Titans.


Silver and Gold Span the Infernal Heaven
Punch, Oriasta, Fury

Just outside the rice-fields, on a patch of ground bordering the brazen floor of the Creation-born occupied layers, a small shrine to the Celestial Incarnae stood, a pitiful and tiny thing: little more than a single pillar adorned with a platform with the statues of the Sun, Moon and Fates. Usually, but a few candles stood there, and only rarely would people come here to offer thanks and prayers to the architects of the Primordial War.

But today, it was different, for today, at this shrine, at the very edge of hospitable lands in Oasis, a marriage was to take place, a marriage between Celestial Exalts.

A Celestial wedding - a poor choice of words to describe what was about to happen... for such words bring connotations with ceremonies so grand and majestic that they would put most of what happened during the Second Age to shame, feasts grand enough to sate Metagaos and extravagances eclipsing even the boundless imagination of the Fair Folk

Here, the ceremony had to be simple, humble. Few guests, and a feast that could only be described as meagre. Only decoration were sapphire ribbons hung from the top of the shrine, scribed with prayers, but even the malicious light of the Green Sun could not mar the joy they heralded.

The bride, a young Lunar named Min, clad in an elegant, if slightly a bit too form-fitting robe embroidered with moonsilver - a gift from one of the Elders - nervously squeezing the hand of her Solar Mate, looking around with those big, azure eyes of her. She was a pretty sight to look at, a girl barely grown, dainty and slender, her body adorned with an intricate, mesmerizing pattern of a traditional Lunar tattoo freshly bestowed, and the fact that she appeared a little bit overwhelmed by the event only added to her charm.

The guests were already gathered as well: though there was no sign of the families, sadly. They were left behind, with so many other people... but there was little point in thinking of them now. Only Min's older sister, a women so similar to her that if not for the tattoos, they would be almost impossible to tell apart made it to Malfeas. Apart from her, a few others attended: a goddess of fertility, a Lunar representative of the Silver Pact, a score or maybe more of close friends... and, of course, standing there with a serene smile on her face that did not find a reflection in a bottomless cerulean eyes, so beautiful that she slipped words and imaginations, seeming so unreal that she just had to be true, for no mind could dream such perfection, she, the Maiden of Serenity.

So maybe there was something exquisite about this wedding after all, for since the fall of the Age of Glory, not even the most exemplar of the Celestial Host could receive the blessing from her own hands. But the times changed, and so many had died, and maybe now you were all closer than then, much, much closer.


Orbs and Collars Jania, Artificer, Bartrand

Arianna's forge was hardly impressing: a furnace, anvil, a few boxes of tools kept in an immaculate order, a trapdoor leading to storage. Nothing special, nothing extraordinary. For Creation standards, that is. For in Oasis, such establishment was a dream of many.

Through the ajar door, an emerald radiance seeped inside, mingling with the reddish glow of the furnace and a fiery mane of a flame duck chained to it with a short chain and a solid manacle around the elemental's ankle - most likely to be used as a convenient source of a good flame. A few chairs have been prepared by guests, but only three of them were occupied by a strange mixture of a jade-born artisan, an abyssal that did even bother to conceal what he is and a solar reeking slightly of firedust.

The host herself was present too, her back turned at the guests as she was preparing something - and has been at that for the last half an hour, maybe more. Her once-exquisite robe was not torn and crudely sewn, burned in many places and in a condition that signified that the owner decided to pay no mind at all to her own appearance - a fact further proofed by the state of Arianna's long hair, tied into an inelegant ponytail, literally dotted with stains left by soot. It seemed strange, such lack of self-care, especially compared with the nigh-perfect order that reigned inside of the forge.

The table in front of the guests was left bare, apparently the Twilight did not believe in necessity of provisions for those she invited to witness her "ground-breaking invention".

In the silence, many distinct noises could be picked by one bored enough: the distant rumbling of Malfeas' streets, tormented in their helplessness wails of the demons shaped into the gate separating you from the rest of the Demon-City, burbling of an alchemical apparatus belonging to a former god of sake, now responsible for entire alcohol industry, occupying a small brazen brewery next door...


Of Kites and Flutes Vania, Isrukam, Tewi, Rose

Demon-City was in carnival, longest and most vicious of all it has witnessed. For the last three months, the city was celebrating. From the day Incarnae bowed their rebellious head, demonkind was ascendant. It has been a while since they could celebrate triumph, but when an occasion appeared, they did not hesitate to do their best. And as each day brought the Callibration closer, the celebrations grew even more crazy, ecstatic and brutal. Blood and liquor ran down the streets and alleys, mixing and feeling Malfeas with this crazy stench that was both disgusting and alluring at the same time.

It was always noisy on the Ligier-lit streets, but never as much as during the last weeks. Bells rang all the time, but their loud tolling could barely rise above the constant song... and song in Malfeas was not only sung, but also screamed and cried.

It almost seemed that all the inhabitants of the city moved to the streets for the last weeks of the carnival, spending all their time in indescribable crowd, loving, celebrating, drinking, murdering each other... it almost seemed that Lypothymie held no sway over them now.

The guide the diplomat party hired, a lithe angylkae had no problems moving through all this celebration, but the same could not be told about the diplomats themselves. They stood out from among the demons, and they seemed to instinctively understand that they were more than mere mortals: yet still those, who were defeated and knelt by the Once and Future Tyrant. The mockeries and jests were almost constant, flying from all directions, and yet from none that could be distinguished. All they could do was to follow their harpist-guide, and so they did.

Through many winding streets they travelled, places obscene and beautiful, and still, when asked about the destination, the angylkae could not even tell when she expects them to arrive. Truth be told, it started to appear that she was herself getting lost, too afraid to admit it to you.

That something went even more wrong became apparent the moment you left another tight, dark alley and emerged on a street that was empty. No trace of demons or of their clangour was to be seen or heard, and the music of the city seemed muffled. And it looked deserted for many, many years now, with mosaics on the brazen walls falling apart, vitriol pooling in the cracks of the basalt pavement ingathered, strange vegetating sprouting from the thin air and tearing into the empty husks of the building, the black vines moving as if they were alive and sentient. There was a certain tension in the air, as if some danger not fully formulated loomed over this street.

And it was not perfectly silent, too. A lone sound - a haunting, bitter melody played on a panflute flowed in the air. The diplomats looked for the musician, raising their heads and noticing.

On a half-collapsed balcony above, a dark-skinned woman was sitting, her legs hanging in the air. She was naked, barring an impossible number of little chimes and charms dangling from her neck, ankles, wrists, looking almost indistinguishably from her long, braided hair with brazen bells woven into the black braids. She was beautiful, too, but in an uneasy, predatory way. Her eyes were narrowed, tracing your each move in preparation for a strike, and you could almost hear an non-existent drum calling to the ritual hunt - in she was to be the hunter.

Slowly, she moved the panflute from her lips, and put it to her side, next to a pair of curved, silvery blades.

'I hope that you were worth the hassle' she said, her voice calling forth an images of a dry, desert wind.

[Volthawk]

Fury stands to one side, at the moment in his human form, clad in a thick suit of moonsilver plate. He was under strict instructions from the other Lunars to stay out of the warform for the wedding - it wasn't a particularly friendly form, as far as they were concerned - so here was one of the rare times he was in his human form.

Although he is paying attention to the wedding, periodically he looks around from his position to survey the area around the shrine. He was feeling somewhat responsible for anything that could go wrong here - after all, he was representing the Silver Pact here - so he was keeping an eye out for anyone that could cause trouble.

[MrPrim]

Silver and Gold Span the Infernal Heaven

Clad in a gown of clinging, sheer green gossamer, Oriasta, the Fallen Orchid, Goddess of Fertility, sat amongst the guests of this unprecedented matrimony. Her mane of red, vine-like hair was tied up, blue and white flowers erupting around the bun, and tiny baby’s breath blossoms bloomed and shimmered on her cheeks.

Of course, she’d had to get instructions on all of this. One of her bureaucratic neighbors in her new home had explained the procedures and formalities. Academically, of course, she was aware of weddings – but she wasn’t usually invited to them. It all seemed faily… silly… no, not silly… inefficient; a strange way to dress up the basic procreative act – the one that she now represented. Flowers did not get married, nor did trees, or bears, or most other things. But men, Exalts, and their ilk chose to mark their days with such things. She would probably have to get used to them.

As the bride came into view, Oriasta smiled. She was so young and lovely and full of life. In the deity’s eyes, the young Lunar practically glowed, for no beings are quite so fertile as the chosen of Luna. Soon, the Oasis would ring with the squeals of new life, of that the goddess was certain.

And then Venus appeared.

Oriasta trembled like a leaf in the wind as she glanced up at the Incarnae who stood before the assemblage. Even as one of the least of those hallowed beings, the sheer presence of Venus hammered on Oriasta’s being. While the mortals and Exalts in attendance felt her power and her pull, it was nothing compared to the profound effect that Venus had on her subordinate. Fighting a compulsion to prostrate herself before the Maiden of Serenity, Oriasta merely averted her eyes demurely as she waited for the groom to arrive.

[AmberVael]

Of Kites and Flutes

Vana has very little care that they are lost, and the jeers and mockery of the demons only provoke a grin. They acknowledged her with their words. The teachings of her house- albeit inadvertent ones- taught her that there was often as much power to infamy as there was fame. All publicity was good, in its own way. Besides, all of these demons, ultimately, were beneath her, the crowd flocking to her stage, and if she willed it, she could compel them into her eternal service. They might mock her now, but in time, just a little time, their voice would change, whether to fear or adoration.

Though she fails to question their guide's directions, Vana asks a steady stream of questions about the realm she has found herself in- queries on the nature of particularly striking demons and buildings they pass, the sources of various music, and inspiration for the dances she sees.

Yet, her interest turns to concern when they arrive in a quieter, more broken streets, and when the mournful flute begins to play, her suspicion and tension rises. As their path comes to its end, before the flute player, her suspicions are realized, and her mind races, then comes to its conclusion.

"Zsofika. An honor to meet the tireless hunter." The entertainer says, with a flourishing bow. Each movement makes the fabric of her dress swirl and unfurl, and Vana's fan leaps to her hand, opening smoothly. "Your music is more exquisite than the tales had led me to believe." The fan shuts with a quiet click, then expands again, but in the opposite direction.

"Silver fanged serpent, woven with countless bells, what matter brings us together?" Like a bird of prey testing her wings, Vana flicks her fan back and forth, dress swirling and shifting as she keeps her eyes on Zsofika, not backing away like prey, but measuring the huntress in return.

Crack! The fan unfolds once more, but with sudden intensity. The sound of it unfurling is startlingly loud in the empty streets, and this time, the blades of Vana's cloth show clear, five gleaming points extending from the crimson cloth before it whisks away, folded again. "Is our presence interfering with your hunt?" The magician asks with dangerous politeness- a predator in another's territory, but no less a predator.

[Odd_Canuck]

Punch rechecks everything for the fifth time that day... this day has to be as perfect as possible for his Little Nibbles. After all, you generally only get married once in a lifetime, so make it as grand as you can.

The food is ready to be moved out as soon as the ceremony starts... Although it's rather lackluster fair, you wouldn't know it... a cake rises high, even if it's a rather nutty and solid pound cake. The small gifts for each of the guests are completed, and they are small... most commonly being merely personalized sets of tinned copper dishes, although some speak more to the nature of the receiver such as a tiny box of seeds for Oriasta, the matched tonfa decorated with clawspeak patterns of thanks for Fury and the scrolls of new hymn praise music for the presiding Incarnate. Being sensible, generic ones have also been created, since unplanned guests always turn up. Being Hell, the bar is already open and serving... one of the precious few advantages of life in Hell, is there's never a shortage of alcohol. Granted, much of it needs to be reworked for taste, but at least it makes celebrating in harsh times easier, and it's fairly easy to distill into something more palatable.

This life just keeps looking up. Granted losing Creation was a huge blow to everyone, but his own life is on the upswing. Freedom. Becoming Exalted. Finding someone who loves him and he in turn can love. Even his job going into Hell itself and building demesnes and manses for demons is better than his old one. And now he's getting married.

Confident that the preparations are in hand and everything is ready to go ahead, Punch heads out, briefly mingles with the crowd (which in his case involves standing still for a moment and nodding at something someone says) and finally makes his way to the Incarnate herself and with a nod of the head and a grumbled "Ready."

[Flare]

Rose, her face a mask and half covered by the blue hair, casually ignored the jests and insults of the demons as they made their way through the carnival. It was hard, to move through the massive amount of demons milling in the street, given the weapon on her hip and the grimore on her other.

It jangled in it's chains, that evil book, but it was under such heavy lock and key- and attached firmly to her hip- that it would be incredibly hard to steal it. She kept her hand on it, as well, to further dissuade any attempts to touch it. She made no effort to avoid demons unless they simply would not move, but she made certain that none of them neared the book. Let them touch the blade if they wanted to, but the book was not. Even their insults simply slid off of her, as if she did not hear them. She did not care about what they said- they were unimportant to her unless the were attacking the refugees-, and had much better things to be doing with her time. But she was not a Monster, she reminded herself, she was not.

As they wandered, however, the Dusk did slowly find herself becoming more and more annoyed at the fact the group's guide did not actually know where they were going. The clamoring of the demons were a bit of a pain, due to the closeness, and the blood and alcohol on the streets, and getting pressed between the massive amount of revelers made her fear for losing the book, making her grip it ever closer to her. Despite this, she stayed near the front- or as close as she could- of the travelers, as close to the angylke as she could, unwilling to fall behind and get lost in the Demon City, additionally, she was interested enough in the questioning of the creature that she didn't wish to not hear them, anything to keep her mind off the massive amount of demons.

When they finally reached the empty area, the Abyssal let out a low sigh, finally releasing her death grip on the Grimore, letting it fall back into place at her hip- she had clasped it in her hands after about an hour, unwilling to lose it-. She was wary, but it was for the thing at the end of the street, instead of the random creatures on it that no longer existed. Much better to deal with one creature then a hundred thousand. Brushing her hair out of her face, she checked that Soulbreaker hadn't had any of the ornamentation stolen from it, and, satisfied, clasped her hands in front of her waist- a symbol to show she wasn't planning violence, as she would have to unclasp her hands to reach her weapon- and stood silently near the back, running her finger across the hearthstone amulet attached to the book- filled with a broken stone-. It was a worthless gesture, but one to make her feel better- or worse, depending on how she felt at that time-

"Glad to be in silence." she noted, to no one in particular, but goes silent when someone else addresses the demon. Talking wasn't her strong suit- being shoved in a library with no other contact for 3 years could do that, she supposed-.

[Gargulec]

Silver and Gold Span the Infernal Heaven

Min blushed luminescent red as soon as she put her eyes on Venus, and averted her sight almost immediately. But it was not certain if it was just the beauty that was unbearable for the young lunar. Because there was something more in the face of the Incarna, and more you looked, more you could see that it was sadness and torment as grand as she was powerful and as deep as her visage was breathtaking.

Her dress matched her perfectly, yet there were places were you could see the traces of yellow stains left by the vitriol of the realm. Her nails were coloured and flawless, yet shortened, as to hide the mark of being bitten lately. In her eyes, nations could drown, yet as you looked into them, you could notice how bloodshot and tired they seemed. In the visage of the Maiden of Serenity, your own state was reflected as in a mirror.

They said that of all of you, the Incarnae got hit by the destruction of Creation the worst - because they something more than their world crumble. They saw their grandest, most loved possession and work dissolve, all they stood for fade - and they were powerless about it, and could only blame themselves for the fact that they failed at protecting it: they failed at the task that was their purpose. And now, looking at Venus, you could tell that there was little lie in that claim.

The Maidens of Serenity bowed her head to the both of you, and straightened. The gathered guests went silent immediately, their talks and mingling doused by a sudden wave of peaceful, quiet essence.

'In the days past' she spoke up, her voice barely more raised, yet so clear and vibrant that none of you could possibly have any problems with hearing it 'a long, elaborate ceremony would have followed. But... today, today, here...' her words were coming out slowly, as if she was straining to make each of them sound important, profound - and as if she was barely maintaining the serene demeanour 'the words are not necessary.'

She said no more, just tore a small ribbon from the long sleeve of her sapphire dress, and she gently wrapped it around the clasped hands of the Solar and Lunar, her hands so soft, so delicate, tying it into elaborate bow. No display of magic, no shower of light accompanied it, yet there was a weight in that simple act, a voiceless announcement that in the eyes of heaven, Min and Punch are now one.

'I give you my blessing' she whispered, so that only you would hear. 'And I ask you to remember' she raised her voice again 'that with all its sham' she paused, taking a deep breath 'drudgery, and broken dreams' it seemed that the words did not come easily to her, that there was a struggle behind each of them, a fight fought inside, with demons of own mind 'it is still a beautiful world.'

She lowered her head, as if to inspect the tie as soon as finished speaking, but Min and Punch could see that there was another reason. A tear, as brilliant as a sapphire rolled down from her eye, splattering on the ground with the most quiet sound. But when she raised it again, for a moment, there was serenity back in her gaze.

[Sallera]

Of Kites and Flutes

When he was recruited for a diplomatic mission, Tewi had something slightly different in mind. The festivities were quite pretty from above, and from what they had told him of Amalion, she seemed likely to be a gracious host. Of course, then he was told that three Celestials would also be part of the party, and the Heart couldn't carry four armoured warriors, even if he had thought it wise to confine multiple Solars in close proximity for any extended period of time. So he returned the ship to the Tower, tucked the keystone inside his armour, and joined the others as they set out on foot.

After an hour, he was starting to wish he had just asked if any of them knew how to fly.

It wasn't that he disliked the journey itself. The insults and mockery were unimportant, and he was getting used to weaving through the crowd - it came quite naturally to him. He was as interested as the rest in the answers to the questions this Vana kept asking. But he had rarely worked with a guide as useless as the one they had hired appeared to be. Her increasingly worried demeanour probably meant that she wasn't malicious, just as lost as they were. Still, it was a surprise to emerge onto a street that was actually empty. As he looks over the incongruous desolation, a smile starts to creep onto his face. This place held the promise of something more interesting than usual.

"From what I've heard, silence isn't often something to be glad of, here," he replies to Rose's remark, his voice low despite his words. Although it wasn't actually silent.... Following the music, he tilts his head with a grin as he spots its source, closing one eye and allowing the other to examine the demon from multiple angles as she speaks. She stood out brightly to Essence sight, a clear sign of someone worth meeting, but also someone to be a little warier than usual around. Zsofika, is it? Perhaps I'll listen and learn for a moment.

[oramus]

As their guide leads the group through the labyrinthine streets of Malfeas, Isrukam takes care to stop and make brief conversation with those demons he recognises along the way. Though many of the Creation-born have had trouble differentiating one individual demon from another, he has adapted with relative ease; it is this along with his talent for making other people feel comfortable around him and Cecelyne's interest in him that has earned him his reputation as unusual amongst the denizens of Malfeas. When he converses with his new acquaintances the jeers die down, and when he finishes and moves away there is a bemused silence as the demons consider him.

Looking up, he recognises the same brass archway that they've passed at least once before. He realises their guide is most likely lost, possibly feeling intimidated by her followers. He offers his assistance as best he can give it, attempting to engage her in casual chatter to ease her nerves.

A soft, quavering note draws his attention away from the angylkae; he looks up towards its source. Zsofika, a sub-soul of Adorjan, if his memory serves correctly. He instinctively notices cues which most overlook; subtle tones in her body language and tone of voice, places at which her gaze lingers. What he sees does not encourage him. Something is wrong.

Isrukam attempts to place himself somewhere at the front of the group of travellers, standing between them and Zsofika.

"Lady Zsofika, of Adorjan; blessed be the hunt. Though we travel on business for the Barony, may we be of assistance to you?" he queries with a slight bow, though keeping his eyes fixed on the huntress-demon. To lower one's guard in her present might be seen as a mockery of her hunt, and would only serve to insult and enrage her. He waits to hear the reply.

[Zoronos]

Orbs and Collars

Bartrand Mar

Bartrand sat quietly... a few chairs down from the others. That... whatever it was creeped him out a bit. Was it a Zombie that another had sent? No, no, it breathed, that couldn't be it. Well, whatever it was, it was really creepy, and Bartrand didn't like it one bit.

He brushed his dark hair back from his face, and a few specks of mixed purple and red dust fell on the collar of his dark blue tunic. The remnants of that morning's experiments at finding an effective combination of Algarel and Firedust that could be stabilized. All he had managed so far was to create a substance that reacted violently to either substance's trigger. Oh, and he had blown up a Marotte, which resulted in two smaller marottes both getting quickly back to work. Thankfully the demon didn't seem to mind the process. Anyway, he was getting swiftly bored.

He had spent the first fifteen minutes drawing up a more efficient version of the sake refinery he could see out the window. It would only take a couple Marrotes and a Haranhal a week or two to raise a much larger building. He had scribbled the numbers into the bottom corner of a notebook page, filling the rest with schematics for a larger stone building. Then again, maybe the others wouldn't be so happy about having demons building architecture in the Slag. Down in the rest of the Dross, they'd probably care less, but up here people were a tad more picky.

After that realization, he had shrugged, turned the page, and went back to sketching designs for other relics. He needed to nick that Infernal Cannon thingy he had seen one of the Blood Apes running around with a few weeks back and take it apart to see how it worked. He could just summon a second circle demon, a subsoul of Ligier most likely, and demand to know how they worked, but that would be a tad gauche. He started sketching idly in his book again, small pictures and diagrams for... something. He didn't get very far before he got bored and shut his book. He contemplated making small talk with his companions, but the zombie thing still creeped him out. The other one was pretty, like a living statue, but so pretty that she was intimidating, in a way. He decided it would be better to keep to himself, for now.

After a half hour of waiting, the young man cleared his throat quietly. "Pardon me, Miss Arianna, but what is it exactly that we're here to see?"

[Odd_Canuck]

Silver and Gold Span the Infernal Heaven

Punch looks in the direction of the assistants and offers a faint nod, clearly a cue that they are to start bringing forth the gifts and form up the receiving line.

Most guests receive their gift, the thanks of Min and a smile and a nod from Punch. Some few he will unbend himself to say the word "Thanks" with his smile and nod, most typically those that he feels have been doing things in Oasis for the good of all. Some handful receive more, those that are in positions usually reserved for the family of the happy couple.

Such as Venus herself, the first of the line. Punch loudly proclaims "Thank You Holy One", and then leans in closer to deliver the rest of his thought at a whisper meant for the ears of Min and Venus alone. Holding his hand out, fingers loosely spread pointed at the Maiden of Serenity he says "Sacrifice". Putting his hand with fingers closed over his heart he follows with "Hope". Finally he holds Min's tiny hand up in his between the three of them, and makes a fist, adding "Victory". With a smile he then hands to Venus her gift. Five scrolls bearing five songs in praise and thanks to Venus that have no superior in any age.


Oriasta's presentation is both shorter and yet more significant. Punch merely holds out her gift, a small box no larger than two finger widths in any direction with a smile, a nod that edges into being a bow, and the statement "New Life".


Fury's presentation is perhaps the most simple of all the early presentations, consisting merely of Punch looking at Fury, raising an eyebrow slightly and presenting the Tonfas to Fury with a bow.

[Dragnar]

Orbs and Collars
The Jadeborn artisan remained silent and still, waiting patiently for the Solar to finish her preparations. She had certainly heard all manner of terrible things about the Twilight, but she was never one to judge a person from hearsay. Besides, if this creation of hers was actually as impressive as she claimed, Jania wasn't going to miss the chance to see it. Any advantage she could get would be needed in this place, if she intended to keep the remains of her people alive.

Still, her mind began to drift as time passed. It always did in these situations. Sure, this workshop was far more impressive than most in the Oasis... but she couldn't help but mentally list every last flaw and missing tool. A bit of work here, a paintjob there, and she could have this place looking many times nicer... Not that it mattered. It would never compare to the facilities she was used to, not without decades of work gathering the needed materials and tools. She sighed rather loudly at this without realizing it, disgusted with both the pathetic situation the surviving creation-born were in and her own inability to be of much help.

[DaWrecka]

Orbs and Collars

The Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies drummed his fingers on his knee, soulsteel against soulsteel producing a sound that was quite eerie to mortals. Being invited to this showcase had been something of a surprise. He knew that deathknights were not exactly the darlings of the Creation-born. Doubly-so in the case of those who, like him, sought to bring about The End Of All Things. The fact that he looked barely a step removed from a zombie himself certainly did not earn him any friends among the so-called "Celestial Host", and that he was seldom seen without Oblivion Case again compounded matters. Were it ever to become known that he was researching weapons and contagions to devastate the entire Celestial Host, just in case his suspicions proved true... Well, he hoped that wouldn't come to pass. He was not so dismissive of the living that he was unwilling to acknowledge that he was hopelessly-outnumbered here.

The reputation of this Twilight crafter - or was she a sorceress? The stories were divided - had reached him even in his thusfar-short time among the living. Opinion was clearly divided on her. Some spoke of her with reverence, others spoke of her with much contempt. "bitch" was a word that he had heard spoken of her many a time. Still, with the lack of anything resembling objective fact about her, he was prepared to withhold judgement. He found it easier to respect the crafters among the living, even if he intended to cast them into the Void just as he would any other.

To that end, he cast a speculative eye over the others who had been invited. The male human - he mentally-cursed himself for not learning the Through Dead Eyes charm before he had left the Thousand, as he could not identify whether the man was Exalted - seemed rather nondescript, certainly not matching the archetype of the Twilight Caste too well. The other attendee was rather more interesting, however - a jadeborn, if the Artificer did not miss his guess. He had learned a little of them while studying in the libraries of his liege, but he had been under the impression that they had been extinct since the First Age. If their reputation was to be believed, they were perhaps the foremost crafters of magitech among the Creation-born. Perhaps it would be worth keeping an eye on that one...

[Volthawk]

Fury accepts the tonfa with a nod. Although he really didn't have much use for the tonfa, he understood the importance of this event in the scheme of things. However, apart from that moment, Fury spends the wedding by the back of the ceremony, vigilant of any forces that may interfere with the ceremony, and only when Venus does the main part of the ceremony does Fury pay full attention to it.

[Gargulec]

Of Orbs and Collars

'Done!' the loud announcement, followed by a quick and sharp turn brought you face-to-face with Arianna (and also made the fire-duck in the middle of stifling a yawn almost jump, startled). There was a wide, thought certainly very cold grin on the Solar's scarred face, one that would be hardly out of place on a painting of a triumphant monarch condemning the conquered nation to fires everlasting or something equally unpleasant. "Behold my triumph" it screamed. A small pouch dangled from her hand.

'Only the three of you?' she asked, as if she was not aware of that before, frowning. 'Ah, that does not matter' she decided in an instant, though it did not take an empath to notice that she was not happy about the number of those who came to witness her newest invention. 'You'll tell them, you surely will' the words were more of a statement of fact than a question or guess. Apparently, she was quite sure of herself.

She came closer, fetching herself a chair and giving each of you a long, studious look. Her eyes stopped for a particularly drawn while on Artificer, as if appraising him.

'A deathknight, yes? Interesting' she muttered loudly and ominously, in a voice suggested that she knew more that she wanted to reveal. 'Anyway!' with a gesture of a stage magician presenting a new trick to the audience, she dropped the pouch on the middle of the table. The brazen surface rang loudly. 'Inside, a fruit of many months of my labour and research, a wonder necessary to our survival!'

With an elaborate bow only slightly marred by the sorry state her fingers were in, she untied to bag. The fabric went down, revealing to you eyes... a number of a nut-sized jet-black orbs of soulsteel inscribed with countless Old Realm sigils.

'This...' Arianna inhaled sharply, her eyes almost ablaze with pride 'is the solution to the least god problem!'



Of Kites and Flutes

The demon long fingers coiled around the swords hilts, jolting the upwards, the pommels pointing towards the ground and along, silvery blades running upwards along her arms. In a wordless silence, only disturbed by the quiet melody drawn from your guide's harp of time, she bent forward, nimbly jump down on the cracked basalt pavement, her landing raising a small cloud of dust from between the cracks.

Few quick, perfectly paced steps brought her right next to you, so close to Vana that the naked demon's body was almost pressed against the Iron Wolf's robe, a strong scent of blood, sweat and smoke shrouding her, filling your minds with the visions of bloodshed and moon-lit hunts that have no beginning nor end. Oddly, up close, she proved shorter that you'd expect, almost a head shorter than the Cynis. Even more weirdly, it did not make her appear any less dangerous or unassuming.

'Serpent?' she said with a smirk, raising her argent eyes to meet Vana's sight 'well put, Nightbringer. And worry not, you are not my quarry, nor is my hunt disturbed by you. But spare me the courtesies next time, they have no place in my mind nor fiefdom'

Gently, she jumped back, the bells and chimes of her playing and exquisite melody with every little move of her athletic body.

'Well done' she gave your angylkae a pat on the head. 'Now begone'

The demon did not have to hear her orders twice, almost instantly fading into one of the side-alleys.

'Now, you call me a lady and give me bows' she said 'but it says nothing of you that would interest me, for I judge as a hunter does' saying that, she flicked her writs, making the blades slash cut through the air, coming into combat stance. 'Crowned Sun' she turned to Isurkam 'bloody me, prove your worth with blades and wounds, and then maybe I shall find you worthy of all that hassle.'

[oramus]

Isrukam watches the Angylkae leave, making a mental note to speak to her about this duplicity at a later time. Zsofika's challenge was not at all unexpected, though it was nevertheless an undesirable prospect. Still, if this was what it took to gain the demon's respect, that was that; by now Isrukam was used to dealing with the unusual customs of Malfeas' denizens.
This was not solely his decision, however. He glances over his shoulder at the rest of the group and then ahead at Vana, looking for signs of dissent as his hand moves to draw his lance from his back.

[Flare]

"...True. It was not so much the silence as the oppressive covering of demons over everything. she explains, frowning. She did not mind silence, but she also knew it was bad here, even if not in the Oasis. Then, as the talking went on, she slowly drifted off, thinking about how to fix the world.

Until the Demon's statement came out, and pulled her back to reality. She looked between the Demon and the rest of the group, taking a few steps forward from the back, looking directly at Isrukam. She places her hand on his Lance. There's almost a grin on her face, showing a pair of elongated canines. Her hair falls back in front of one of her eyes, the grimore on her side. There's a massive amount of fumbling and buckling as she removes chains and belts form her waist. Before long, she holds the Grimore in her hands, a massive pile of chain and locks placed on top of it. "I will deal with this...if you can hold this." she offered.

[oramus]

Isrukam looks in surprise as Rose steps forwards; she had been almost completely silent during their journey, until now. He knows little about her, but the rumours he has heard and the colossal daiklave she carries both speak volumes about her ability to fend for herself. Nonetheless, it would be madness to allow her to challenge Zsofika alone, he decides.

He shouts towards the emerald sky in a voice clear and loud which rings from the brass walls - "ENLIL!" His agata familiar, his ally, steed and friend heeds the call, and emerges from behind a nearby building to descend to Isrukam's side. Isrukam carefully takes the tome from Rose, noting the distasteful markings covering its surface and the slick, cold feel of the cover, and presents it to the agata.

"Enlil, would you please keep the lady's book safe until we are finished here?" he asks quietly, before gesturing to Rose to step ahead and continuing to draw his lance.

Isrukam is happy to let Rose take the lead here, but won't stand by idly in case something goes horribly wrong. His familiar can float around nearby looking after her book until the fight ends, one way or another.

[DaWrecka]

Orbs and Collars

For the first time that he could remember, The Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies found himself... nonplussed. The fact that the Solar had failed to identify him as a Chosen of Oblivion until across a table from him struck him as surprising. After all, articulated plate of moaning black soulsteel is usually difficult to miss. The long daiklave sheathed across his back resonated like soulsteel thanks to the Fivefold Harmonic Adapter adhered to its surface. His face was gaunt, with taut, death-grey skin pulled covering his skull. He was, he was honest-enough with himself to admit, a walking zombie in appearance, though not in intelligence and capabilities. And yet, in spite of all these clues, obvious to all but the blindest of mortals, the Solar had somehow managed to overlook his allegience to the Void. Absently, the Artificer noted that perhaps her reputation was exaggerated somewhat...

And then she opened the bag, and the Artificer found he had to check himself. Soulsteel? He was quite sure that Solars were unable to learn Soul-Forged Fury. She could not, as he could, overcome the requirement for Labyrinthine ore with which to smelt soulsteel. Where had this Despoiler found such ore? For that matter, where had she found ghosts to beat into the metal? Even the Soul-Forged Fury Charm could not escape that requirement... What did this... child know about working soulsteel that he did not?

All of this and more passed through the Artificer's mind as he observed the orbs. With some effort he managed to avoid showing any outward consternation, but the power of the Void increased ever so slightly in his anima...

Temperance roll to resist showing concern; 4, 10 - success.
Resonance +1 for rolling Flawed Virtue.

Resonance: ●xxxx xxxxx

[Dragnar]

Jania wrinkled her nose slightly as she saw the orbs revealed. Soulsteel, eh... disgusting stuff, and she refused to work with it without good reason. Of course, it was also in short supply in her home, so it rarely came up anyway. For that matter, the deathknight at the table with her was rather disconcerting as well, clad in full soulsteel armor. Still, she had worked with stranger beings before, and as long as no one tried to make her work with the stuff, there would hopefully be no problem.

Still, if the Twilight has actually found a way to circumvent the lack of divinities around the Oasis, it would certainly be worth the cost. Or almost any cost for that matter. Without gods, things here just didn't work as the creation-born expected...

"Oh? And how exactly have you managed that? I was under the impression the mechanism of divine generation were non-functional here..."

[Gargulec]

Of Kites and Flutes

With a buzzing of faceted, jewel wings, the beauteous wasp took flight again, the book clinched tightly it its mandibles, the light of the Green Sun dispersing through its gemstone abdomen, flooding the street below with a thousand of mingling, soft lights.

'You mistake me for another demon' Zsofika scoffed at the Eclipse as Rose stepped forward, but eyeing the Dusk carefully as she went too, not averting her gaze from her for a barest moment. 'I am a hunter, and you take me for a knight.'

She turned to the Abyssal, raising the curved points of her blade at her.

'I would compliment your bravery, if such things were of concern to me, Child of Ash' she said, smirking yet again 'but I am not wasting my blades in a duel against a champion. You all' she made a sweeping gesture with one of her swords, the sound of air being split by the keen edge accompanying her words, strangely in tune with the chiming of her bells, as if it was a single melody 'that what interest me, that what I would test my blades against. Your skill, your blades, your blood I want to taste before I am to find you worthy of all that hassle.'

[MrPrim]

”Thank you,” Oriasta says, touching the bag of seeds and bowing formally to her hosts, ”Your gift is treasured.”

”Allow me to offer you a small, humble gift,” the goddess muttered, reaching out a hand to the blushing bride, ”May I?”

Oriasta pulled one of the blue orchids (http://bios.weddingbee.com/pics/57853/blue_orchid.jpg) from her hair and placed it behind Min’s ear. ”What is a wedding without flowers?” she asked, flourishing her hands most dramatically. Vines of blue and white orchids and roses sprang forth from the brassy ground and twined their way up into the rafters, joining the blue ribbons. In an instant, the single flower behind the Lunar’s ear was a delicate tiara of sapphire orchids. ”They will not last long in this soil, I am afraid,” Oriasta said to the Exalted couple, her tone a bit sad, ”But blooms and flowers are always fleeting, it is the fruit that they bear that lives on.”

Oriasta bowed low to her hosts and returned to her seat.

OOC: Casting Calculated Order of Immediate Action (10m, 1wp) for my little flower show.

[AmberVael]

Of Kites and Flutes

"A lone predator against a pack." With a flick of her wrist, Vana turns her fan into a dangling cloth, whatever trickery that held the frame together coming undone. She says no more, nor tries to convince Zsofika otherwise- a group spar against the demon was getting off easy- she'd rather take it than provoke her with further words.

Vana slips back behind Rose and Isrukam, willing to fight, but also to let others take up the front line. She'd wait for the right moment, and watch for weaknesses. With this done, she waits for Zsofika to strike.

[Sallera]

Of Kites and Flutes

Child of Ash? That sounds... familiar. Is she a Knight? Well, time enough for that later. So, the hunter wants to see if we are prey. As the others sort out the terms of the coming challenge, Tewi takes the time to shift his vision up and down the street, getting a better look down alleys and in windows. No need to get cornered by a poor move, after all. His other eye opens as he completes the circuit, his vision returning to normal, and he nods to the waiting demon with a half-smile.

"Well, far from the first time I've been hunted, although I doubt I've faced one quite so bright before." Tapping the fingertips of his gauntlets together, he creates a ringing chord of bell tones much deeper than the black metal's size would indicate, and drops into an easy, natural stance, his hands held slightly open.

[Gargulec]

Silver and Gold Span the Infernal Heaven

The gift of words did not go without effect on the Maiden of Serenity. Her smile widened a bit... no, actually not, only the shadows in her eyes thinned for a moment, allowing the light to shine through, as if what happened has only been a nightmare that was about to end - for the dawn was breaking.

'Love endures, said the maiden' she whispered so quietly that you were quite unsure whether she even meant you to hear it. The scrolls seemingly disappeared in her hands, but then you moved your gaze from her, and saw them again - dancing around them as sapphire wisps, each of them a reminder. She took a moment to contemplate them with you, before calling another of her wide array of stunning, warm smiles on her face, and placing her palms on your arms 'Go' she suggested, pushing you gently towards the guests 'it is your day now, enjoy it and treasure the memories'

When you turned, she was disappeared, only her delicate, hypnotizing fragrance still clinging to the air, and not fading even after long minutes passed from the goddess sudden vanishing.

Min accepted Orista's gift with a coy smile and an elegant curtsy, her small fingers tracing the flowers shapes with astonishment as they sprouted and bloomed on her forehead. 'You are very kind, Lady, and so talented too' she complimented the goddess, her eyes azure lanterns alight with happiness and sheer joy. She seemed to grow brighter and happier with every passing moment, and while still a bit on the silent side, she was enjoying the ceremony a great deal - and her Solar even more, given how she hung from him, smiling serenely.

You did not notice him - you have no idea on how could have had that happened, but somehow you had not noticed him until he brutally shoved Oriasta to the ground from the table, and reached with his stained hand into a rice bowl. You could not even remember if he was there from the begging, wearing some guise or mask or whether he did come from the fields... or the endless plains of brass.

Who was he? A man, most likely - but also certainly not entirely. He was impossibly tall and gaunt, so much that he appeared to be more a shadow, a wight, than an actual living being, even his tanned skin not making him appear any more life-like - for it appeared dried and crumbling as if it belonged to a corpse left to dry under the scorching, desert sun. Long mane of pitch black hair flowed from his shoulders to the middle of his black, appearing to slither with a life of his own. Barring a loincloth - a tattered, faded rag wrapped around his things, he was wearing nothing - unless excessive amount of ochre body paint, forming mesmerizing, unsettling swirls across his arms and chest counted as clothing.

Only his face held some semblance of life - the malice in his sarcastic grin of cracked lips, and something in his eyes, something of sheer savage and monstrosity, bottomless hate that could never be sated.

'My, my, my' he spoke up, his voice cutting through the bustling of the wedding. All eyes were suddenly set on him, and it seemed to please him 'it seems that I've missed the ceremony, that is a shame' he was speaking in a low, calm sneer, a tone of someone who had nothing but contempt for those gathered. 'But thankfully, the bride is just as pretty, pure and innocent as I was lead to believe... though some bad people omitted me for the guest list, that is a shame too...' his hand dove into the bowl of rice, taking a fistful 'now, that is a delicacy' he added, swallowing it 'but what was I at? Ah!' he exclaimed, starting to look really amused. 'The bride, pretty, small and all that. So!' he turned towards Punch, extending a hand to him as if he wanted to give him a handshake across all that distance. 'See, I happen to be what you call... the Swords of Hell, right?' a pair of emerald blades appeared on his forehead, gleaming with the portents of a very nasty things about to happen, and suddenly all the sounds of the wedding hushed, leaving only an ill-boding silence. 'And that kind of makes me your better, liege, all that... so, I thought, I should exercise some laws, like the law of the first night. The bride goes to me this night, so that she can surrender her maidenhood to me, unless you want me to take her by force... that would work too, I believe.'

His smile did not change a slightest bit during his tirade, though the monster behind his eyes grew even more visible as Min paled and embraced Punch tightly, trying to say something but only able to shiver.

[Volthawk]

Fury laughs, a growling laugh, deepening as he changes, growing several feet, his armour twisting in shape as armoured ridges grow underneath it, forming a more...monstrous shape, long silver talons growing out of his hands. The ceremony was over now, and this demonspawn had intruded - in Fury's mind, staying subtle out of respect was out of the window now.

"Oh, and you think you could take her by force against all of us, slave of demons?"

[Zoronos]

Of Orbs and Collars

Bartrand Mar

On some unconscious level, Bartrand shuddered when Arianna mentioned the word deathknight. That could only be the name of that psuedo-Zombie creature. He had heard it once or twice before, he thought. Anyway, he leaned forwards as Arianna revealed the results of her craft.

As the rag was pulled away, Bartrand scowled. Soulsteel? That didn't make any sense. Sure, Soulsteel didn't require a Least God, powered as it was by trapped Hun souls. Did Ariana truly mean to replace all Least Gods with captured human souls? No, no, that wouldn't be possible there simply weren't enough anymore, unless she could find a way to travel to and from the Labyrinth.

Bartrand shook his head to clear it. He began rapidly muttering, mostly to himself, momentarily oblivious to the others around, "Hmm.. there are already some solutions for the Least God problem. Obviously, demons rendered into chalcanth can substitute. Moreover, I have managed to create true Least Gods using Wyld Shaping principles. Hmm... balls could form arcane link to labyrinth, draw out souls. No, no, that would not truly solve problem, only allow working with soulsteel. Other materials would need to be viable as well. Perhaps some form of inverted harmonic resonator. Would need starmetal wiring..."

Bartrand stopped suddenly, realizing he was in the middle of a social group, rather than alone in his lab. He looked around and cleared his throat self conciously before continuing. "Perhaps you should explain, Arianna."

[Gargulec]

Orbs and Collars

The interested displayed by her guests seemed to inflate Arianna's ego by no small amount. Her grin widened, she almost clasped her hands out of pride.

'The principle behind' she picked up one of the spheres, weighting it in her palm, before grasping it between her fingers so that you could see it more clearly 'is simple in its ingenuity!'

She eyed you, probably expecting awe already.

'Without even any starmetal wiring, the tormented spirit inside can be compelled to power any work of craft' she continued, putting the orb down again 'if only thanks to certain formulas discovered by me through meticulous research and months of endless toil. But here it is! Around this simple orb, any artifact can be created, with the trapped hun soul inside functioning as a least god providing the power and spiritual weight for the device, to this small, unassuming thing any non-functional wonder can be attached and it will have its power again!' she announced triumphantly. 'Only minimal amounts of raw soulsteel and just a single soul rightly processed is enough to create such sphere' the twilight made a long pause, tying the pouch once more with a satisfied expression painted on her face 'and with such basic ingredients, lack of least gods is no longer a concern - for even a fool barely knowing his tool could craft this sphere of my design, even a dragon-blood would have little problems with it!'

She sat down heavily on the free chair, leaning back, arms behind her head, making herself look relaxed and self-assured.

'Questions?' she asked, her voice clearly signalizing that she expected praise, not actual queries.


Of Kites and Flutes

Zsofika stomped on the pavement lightly, her bare sole making barely a sound as it bound of the brass - but the city itself seemed to resonate. There was a change in the bells chimed, slight, barely noticeable, but there - as if a heart begun to beat, changing the rhythm and frequency of the chaotic bell sounds.

A single flake of basalt, shaped like an elegant snow-flake spiralled down from the skies to Zsofika's feet, and other soon followed, the jet black snow looking oddly appropriate around the Kite Flute.

'So...' the demon said, clenching her fingers tightly around the hilts and smiling in excitement '...music...' she stomped again, and this time you felt it clearly, the street itself beating to the tune of her heart, the fiefdom as eager to taste blood as its master 'play!'

And she was at you in an instant, her blades blurring as she ran.


Roll Join Battle!
Zsofika: [roll0]

[Dragnar]

Well, this Solar's attitude was already starting to grade on Jania's nerves. Yes, yes, it was a decent idea. But hardly what she had promised. The lack of least gods made problems far beyond the crafting of Artifacts, and it wasn't as if they didn't have any other way of creating the things. After all, there was a nearly unlimited supply of first circle demons about...

"An interesting idea to be sure... but I have to admit, it seems like a temporary measure at best. We lack the supplies to produce more soulsteel, however little it takes, and the demons about can be used to power artifacts just as easily. Unless you have also found a way to produce more soulsteel than whatever limited supplies you have already? Our supply of souls is rather more limited than those of demons after all..."

She raised an eyebrow as she spoke, watching the Solar's reaction to her relatively nonchalant response to her masterpiece. A hand slipped into one of her pockets as she did, fingering a piece of golden thread hidden there. She would hope the Twilight wouldn't be too upset over a simple question, but better safe than sorry from what she had heard.

[DaWrecka]

Orbs and Collars

A single hun soul to act as a least god... to say the Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies was intrigued would have been an understatement. Granted, he had little need of the things himself, but Artificer found himself in a unique position. As perhaps the only Daybreak Caste within the Celestial Host - or so he suspected, he had no way to be certain - he was perhaps the only person who could create the soulsteel for these items, making him uniquely-powerful. And such power could be useful in his plans.

At least, that was the theory. He considered his words carefully. He did not want to tip his hand too early. "How do you go about smelting soulsteel in this forsaken plane," he asked, in a rasping voice no mortal throat could have produced. "Without ore from the Labyrinth with which to mix the souls?"

[Zoronos]

Of Orbs and Collars

Bartrand Mar

Bartrand blinked. Didn't require Starmetal wiring? Of course it required starmetal wiring. She was just too daft to see it. You can't get proper motonic essence transfer without proper wiring. Sure, inert artifacts would be fine without it, so you could probably make a daiklave or something.

Bartrand leaned back in his chair, looking somewhat smug and self-satisfied. "Which, without a proper link to the labyrinth, doesn't address the underlying issue of limited resources. You'd have to Wyld Shape the requisite Labyrinth Ore into existence to create the Soulsteel in the first place, once our current stockpiles run out. Furthermore, you're ignoring motonic transfer issues for which you will need proper wiring, and lots of it, if you want to build magitech around that... thing." He waved his hand somewhat dismissively, "But sure, if all you want to do is build Daiklaves, they'd likely work fine."

Bartrand returns his hat to his head, shaking a bit more purple and red powder onto the floor as he does so. "For my part, it's not *that* difficult to Wyld Shape objects into existence which contain true least gods, no more so than in the Middlemarches. Between that, and the Chalcanth this good Jadeborn mentioned, I don't see a compelling reason to use these magic balls of yours."

[oramus]

"Diplomacy comes in many forms; it seems that hands-on negotiation is in order" he says quietly to no-one in particular, smiling slightly at the feeble joke.

The virdian light of Ligier reflects as gold off of Isrukam's lance, giving it the appearance of a beam of sunlight as he whirls it level to meet Zsofika's advance. If she requires combat for him to prove his worth, he is willing to provide it.


Stupid roller :smallfurious:
Result here (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12129315&postcount=17)

[Flare]

Rose...chuckled. "I only wanted to give you a fighting chance." she intoned, before the basalt ground around her shuddered. With a loud, low wail, she drew the Katana at her side, a blur of motion and soundless attack as the massive blade aimed straight for the Demon's Throat. The chains on her outfit rattled as she neared, her face absolutely blank, her fangs flashing.


[roll0]

[Sallera]

"Off we go, then." Tapping one foot in time to the beat, Tewi awaits a break in between the two Celestials ahead of him. Wouldn't do to get in their way, but if Zsofika had their measure, she might come for him anyway, and he had a fairly good idea of the appropriate response to that.

Join Battle: [roll0]

[Odd_Canuck]

Silver and Gold Span the Infernal Heaven

Offering a slightly annoyed sigh to the sky above, Punch hugs Min close with a soft spoken "Stay back. I watch you. Keep safe."

Turning to the interloper as Min shifts form for protection, Punch holds up the ribbon that was used to bind them in matrimony. "Two are one. If she rides, I ride you first."

Tucking the ribbon back away with one hand, he holds up the other with a highly suggestive fist-making gesture and a grin.

[Gargulec]

Orbs and Collars

As she was listening to your less-than-pleasing verdict, Arianna begun to change, only so slightly. The smug grin on her face faded, her eyes darkened. You could see her throat move, as if she was wanting to say something, but the words would not come to her, so she just opened and closed her cracked lips in a manner of a fish out of water. That was during Jania's speech.

Then, the Abyssal spoke out, and for a moment she seemed to hope that maybe he would appreciate, understand, already standing up, hands on the table. But instead, he asked difficult questions.

'Soulsteel' she repeated in a dead voice, glancing at a small lump of black metal next to the furnace 'smelting...' you could almost see something dying within her.

And on that precise moment, Mar decided to rub vitriol mixed with salt into the freshly opened wound on the Twlight's ego.

'You...' she muttered, but the solar continued his devastating tirade, and the words he spoke seemed to strike Arianna worse than actual blows. She limped onto the chair again, her dulled eyes stuck to him hopelessly. No trace of the arrogant grin remained on her face, and her hands were slowly - very slowly - clinching themselves into tiny fists. By the look of it, she was either to break out into sobbing or straight out flip out.

'You...' she snarled again as Mar finished his condemnation, her fingers grasping the edge of the table you sat at. '...you...' she added, breathing heavily, the scarred face of hers narrowing and darkening in anger 'GET THE **** OUT OF MY FORGE!' she howled furious, jerking her arms upwards, flipping the table. The brazen piece of furniture proved a bit to heavy for her, though, and she only managed to throw it a little bit upwards before it came crashing down back to its old place. The soulsteel orbs of her, however, flew in all directions. 'YOU *******S!'

She jumped back, grabbing a random tool from the box, swinging it as if she was about to hurl it at you.

'OUT!'

[DaWrecka]

Orbs and Collars

The skin above The Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies' left eye twitched imperceptibly in an imperfect imitation of a raised eyebrow. This is how she reacts to criticism? True, the other attendees had been perhaps a little more harsh than strictly necessary - not that Artificer would withhold harsh criticism himself if he deemed it appropriate - but to his limited understanding of living sensibilities, their questions seemed to be bringing up what their speakers perceived to be legitimate queries. He had expected perhaps scathing replies, but an outright tantrum? Clearly, some of her reputation was exaggerated while the remainder was dramatically-understated.

All of this went through his mind as he stood sharply, his chair scattering behind him and his hand going to the hilt of Armoursmith's Despair in the same motion. He began to move backwards towards the door, his steps measured and his burning gaze never leaving the enraged Twilight. He did not draw the daiklave, but his intent was obvious; He did not intend to initiate hostilities, but if attacked, he would retaliate with the strength of the Void.

[Dragnar]

Jania sighed audibly at the... rather immature response. Yes, yes, you made an interesting toy. It takes a bit more than 'interesting' to get the praise she seemed to want for it. Well, so much for those rumors being false about the Twilight. She was every bit the person Jania had heard so much about.

"Very well then. I do hope you find a way to mass-produce your creation there, but it's simply not a permanent solution until you have." She said with a shrug, before spinning on her heel and heading for the door. Her hand remained in her pocket as she moved, ready to respond to any rash attacks the enraged woman seemed likely to throw at her.

[AmberVael]

Of Kites and Flutes

Vana continues to linger behind the others, though she steels herself for combat. While Zsofika and Rose charge towards each other, she finally begins to move, dashing off to one side in a bid to trap the demon between them and harry her from both sides.

Join Battle: [roll0]

[Zoronos]

Orbs and Collars

Bartrand raised an eyebrow. A temper tantrum? Well, he had heard of her reputation, but he didn't really believe it. In retrospect, he probably should have. Well, on the brighter side of things, he already had his hat on, and this meant more time to experiment with Chalcanth for the afternoon. He did need to get to work on that sword idea he had the other day.

Bartrand stood, pulled his overcoat back on, and gave Arianna a tip of his hat and a half-smile. "Good day." The twilight turned and walked towards the door. He noticed the zombie colossus's hand go to its sword, and moved ever so slightly so that as he walked towards the door, the soulsteel-plated zombie would be between him and Arianna. He very much hoped hostilities did not break out. A temper tantrum was one thing, a fight was another. That said, given the powder saturation left on his hat, all he'd have to do to make this little workshop go up in flames was throw his hat at that Fire Duck... and then dive for cover. While amusing, probably not the best course of action.

[Gargulec]

Orbs and Collars

'DON'T MOCK ME!' the Twilight yelled 'HOW DARE YOU...' she continued her outburst, her voice most certainly beginning to startle other crafters across the street. The manacled fire-duck pressed her hands to the temples, deafening herself on the wails, and give you all an apologetic look, as her master, or owner, or captor continued to make a fool out of herself 'YOU...'

Muzzled by her own rage, her face bloodshot, Arianna only managed to gurgle something ineligible (and likely very offensive). Her arm swung, and the tool she held - a small saw, actually - whistled past you, into the ajar door, knocking them wide open, quite conveniently.

The fact that she even opened the door for you seemed to enrage the solar even further. She howled again, this time without any words, only out of sheer, unbridled fury, and jumped to you - though thankfully, by that time you were outside the humble forge of her.

'GET THE ****...' she yelled from the threshold, her face now so warped that it started to look silly. Even more amusingly, her voice started to crumble, apparently she put a bit too much strain on her vocal chords and could not shout any more 'out of my sight!' she managed to whine, and shut the door forcefully. You barely managed to make a few steps out into the street before they swung open again, revealing Arianna taking a swing with something once more.

One of those soulsteel orbs of her flew over your heads, bouncing merrily of the brazen pavement, before finally losing momentum and rolling down the street, stopping by a half-constructed forge.

People - dragon-bloods and gods mostly gathered, curious about the source of the hellish screams, emerging from their workshops. They eyed you with interest, but after a short moment, apparently already used to Arianna's fits, they returned to their work. An old air-aspect with a long, snow white bread stayed behind and nodded at you, understandingly, before disappearing in the door of his shop too.

From within Arianna's forge, crashing sounds of a living place being demolished by someone really ticked of were coming.

But your backs were turned at the Twilight and her immature tantrum, you had more important matters to attend in your own workshops.


The scene ends. You get one day of downtime to return to your working places and state what kind of projects you are working on, so feel free to describe your actions for the time stated. We shall return to actual plot after this short intermission.

Also, 1 EXP for the three of you.

[Flare]

Zsofika was fast- Rose noted with a frown-, faster then she had assumed. Yet Rose was faster still. Soulbreaker swung through the air faster then sound- slicing wind that didn't exist to prevent it from even making a sound- straight at the Kite Flut's solar plexus. A Wide, sweeping horizontal cut, aiming to cut the muscles in her chest. Then, as the cut moved through, she twisted, sending the weapon at a downward angle, implanting it into the ground. With a roar of shattered pavement being broken, Rose twisted in mid-air, ripping the Sword out of the ground and sending it flying over her head, bringing the blade down towards the demon's face.

Throughout the whole thing, she said not a word, and her face betrayed no movement.

Flurry of Two Attacks, using Savage Shade Style on both. 1 mote per attack, extra successes over damage are counted twice
[roll0]
[roll1]v

[oramus]

Isrukam quickly recovers from his surprise at Rose's speedy reactions, noticing that she has left herself in a potentially dangerous position.

He pushes off from a protrusion of tarnished brass which juts from the otherwise smooth floor, propelling himself towards Zsofika and Rose amid the fading kaleidoscope of colours created by his familiar. He levels his lance at the demon's midriff and uses the momentum of the slide to aid in a piercing strike to her chest, then steps back to stand besides Rose and uses the lance to bar the way between the Exalt and Zsofika.


Flurrying a single attack with the lance at Zsofika, then a Defend Other on Rose, using my combo (1wp spent).
Attack, using Hungry Tiger (1m spent) and 2nd Melee Excellency (2 successes for 4m):
[roll0]

[Gargulec]

Of Kites and Flutes

The blades clashed, moonsilver on soulsteel, green sparks showering the streets as Zsofika elegantly parried the first slash made by Abyssal, with a gesture so nonchalant that it seemed that she did not even believe the daiklave to be able to strike at her. On her toes, she jumped backwards, and that was her mistake.

The second cut she noticed a heartbeat to late, passed by a guard slightly too low, and Rose felt satisfying resistance of the sword cutting through hard skin. A diagonal wound she opened on her face, dark blood dripping to the ground and sizzling with a silent hum.

'First blood!' she smirked, not moved in a slightest, offering a salute with one of her curved swords.

To Isrukam's strike, she paid no mind, batting the lance ever so slightly, but making it strike at one of the bells instead of her body. The chime went asunder with mournful wail, splinters of brass flying in all directions.

And then, there was motion. She kicked of softly, not moving more than it was absolutely necessary, the chimes and bells dangling loudly from her arms and hair, their music so confusing, so mesmerizing.

She danced to to the abyssal's side, circling, the tips of the blade cutting a complex pattern in the air, leaving a faint trail of silver glow behind them, but not striking. It was easy to lose one's wits by looking at them, by looking at the silver serpent coiling and preparing to strike.

The slashes came together in the same heartbeat, the moment when the city itself beat in tune with the hunter's heart. Pair of strikes, the blades seeming living a live on their own, flowing around the guard, around the sword, so hungry to bite into abyssal's body...


Two strikes flurry (principle of motion)
[roll0]
[roll1]

Combat Order:
Tick 0: Rose
Tick 1: Isrukam
Tick 2: Zsofika
Tick 3:
Tick 4: Vana
Tick 5: Tewi, Rose
Tick 6: Isrukam, Zsofika

[DaWrecka]

Orbs and Collars

"The trip was edifying," rasped the Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies, peering at the soulsteel ball he had retrieved from the street after Arianna had hurled it at them. "But not quite in the way I had expected. It would appear part of her reputation is undeserved. Her solution to this 'least god' problem had at least a grain of ingenuity, but clearly it was not fully thought-out. And yet, she apparently expected effusive praise for her work."

The Celestials had granted the Artificer space with which to perform his craft. The upper floor of this forge was rather innocuous, according to the standards of most of the living. No cadavers, nor bloodstained implements were in the walls. In fact, other than a few surfaces the workshop was devoid of tools entirely. This had created some suspicion, but this had been deflected quite easily by demonstrating his Bracers of Universal Crafting. Granted to him by the surgeons of the First and Forsaken Lion, the Bracers had been extremely useful to him during his time as a deathknight. His upper floor had a forge, an anvil, and other accoutrements of the blacksmith, and the lack of tools was easily-explained by his Bracers.

Nobody else knew of the basement level. Secured with a discreet Essence lock of his own make, it would open only for his own Essence, and appeared as nothing more than solid Malfean brass, as did the rest of the floor. But by charging the lock with a mote of his own Essence, the door would open, revealing a stair down to where his real work went on. Removing the mote from the lock caused it to swing closed once more. The door was impossible to open for anyone else, and while he was down here, there were measures to obscure his presence. Truthfully, the level was not as secure as he would like, but resources were limited. Down here, secure beneath several feet of Malfean brass - or at least, as secure as he could be in this Hellish place - was the only place he allowed himself to relax, and remove his armour. Here was the only place his wasted, grey body, with its bony arms and withered legs was ever seen outside of his soulsteel.

The lower floor was much closer to what people expected of a lab owned by a deathknight. Tools still were conspicuous by their absence, but secure cabinets held a number of sickly-looking compounds. Stoppered test tubes lined the walls in locked racks, glass apparatus were set up on benches around the wall.

If just one of these test tubes were opened outside of controlled conditions, they could devastate entire cultures.

A handful of benches in the centre of the room formed the focal point of the lab, but the Artificer was giving them minimal attention at present. He deposited the ball of soulsteel into a small box and locked it carefully. "Still, the woman could be useful... More information is required before I can be certain, but I saw her face when I asked her about how she smelted soulsteel... I suspect that she cannot, in fact, smelt the metal without Labyrinthine ore." He squinted thoughtfully at a labelled test tube on a nearby bench, and frowned. He hmmed, almost inaudibly, and scratched notes into a book he retrieved from a pocket of his acid-scarred, pock-marked apron. "Hmm, promising... If only I could acquire a sample of this Green Sun Wasting disease of which I hear so much." He replaced the book in the apron. "If my suspicion is correct, then this Solar may be willing to bend over backwards to work with me, and she could be very useful. But I cannot afford to tip my hand too early. I must be absolutely sure of my position and hers before I make any offers."

At last, the Artificer pulled his attention to the benches in the middle of the room. He examined the subject on the bench approvingly. "You have been a much better conversationalist of late, my friend, without all that tedious begging," he observed dispassionately to the whimpering mortal secured to the bench, its skin a dark and disturbing shade of green, pockmarked here and there with weeping sores. "But it seems our time together is nearing its end. Have no fear... You will be with your family again quite soon. Until then, however..." He snapped his fingers, and a razor-sharp scalpel of black Essence formed in his grip, which he brought down to the chest of the restrained mortal. "There remains much I can learn from you..."

Updated stats and traits:
Exp: 2/36
Resonance: ●xxxx xxxxx

[Dragnar]

Jania simply shook her head as she walked down the street, rather disappointed in the Solar's outburst. That was a chosen of the Unconquered Sun? She was frankly shocked the woman hadn't marched into Yu-Shan and demanded Sol's position upon exalting. Oh well, it was no concern of hers. She had more important things to do than worry about the ranting of an entitled... well, the rumors didn't do justice, to put it nicely.

First things first: Gather up some bored mortals and set them to work improving the place, constructing more housing and things. Once she had them working, she could return to her rather simple home and get back to work churning out as many alchemical potions as she could. Not only were they useful, but she would hopefully be able to trade them for the supplies needed to create more impressive things. No shame in starting small, after the devastation Creation had suffered.


Using Transcendent Efficacy Instruction on any mortals she can gather up, making them work on expanding the city at double speed.
Roll to gather workers, if needed: Charisma + performance, app 7 [roll0]

After that, heading back to her home(extremely simple place, likely one of the plainest buildings available) to brew alchemy potions. Using her Incomparable Efficiency Trance and Hundred Tool Technique to work at triple speed without need for a workshop. Potions made: As many Munificent Antivenins and Age-Staving Cordials as possible, on top of a Philter of Desire and two Argent Embrace Resins.

[AmberVael]

Of Kites and Flutes

Vana slips around the clashing fighters, drifting with the music and weather as she weighs in. Rose attacks faster than them all, drawing blood quickly, while the lancer sets himself out foolishly for the deathly knight's protection. The vain batting of his weapon against the demon's legendary skill was laughable, but also concerning. Not that Vana felt she was much better- the stage was her arena, not the real arena.

Nonetheless, it was time to make her mark. If foolishness was the order of the day, then there would be a double portion.

As Zsofika focuses on the black knight and the golden hero, the lady strikes. Her crimson cloth spins from one hand, the blades gathering loosely through weight and momentum. As a bird of prey striking from above, so does Vana attack, suddenly and ferociously. Whirring like wings, her dress and cloth spin with her furious onslaught, battering against the attacking demon.

Crazy flurry time! Four attacks with the cloth of blades, using the bludgeoning damage rather than lethal.

Attack 1: [roll0]
Attack 2: [roll1]
Attack 3: [roll2]
Attack 4: [roll3]

This will absolutely murder Vana's DV, but hopefully Zsofika will have a difficult time choosing between targets. :smalltongue:

Personal: 22/22
Peripheral: 41/47
Willpower: 10

[Sallera]

Of Kites and Flutes

Start strong, make your mark, show your skill. I can't fight at this level for long, but this is a test, not a war. The gap he had been waiting for appears as Isrukam moves to defend Rose, and Tewi starts forward, two steps to the beat. Three feet to go, and jade strikes brass with another chord, made dissonant by the added note, as he dives forward and plants his hands on the street. Digging his fingers into the gaps in the paving, he flips the rest of his body forward, twisting to bring the back of his legs flat across Zsofika's, just above the knees, and hooks his own around with the impact. Latching on, he shoves off from the street, completing the springing motion as he attempts to both draw her off balance and bring himself upright. Almost as soon as it seems the motion will cause him to fall, he hooks his right arm around hers, utilizing the second axis of his spin to slip behind the demon and lock her blade against her back, then plants his feet in a wide stance and tests her footing as he attempts to finish the rotation and pin her to the ground.

Flurry a kick and a clinch attempt, enhancing the former with Currents Sweep to Sea and 4m on the First Martial Arts excellency, and the second with 4m on the Excellency.

Kick: [roll0] - no damage, but if it hits, automatic knockdown attempt with an internal penalty of (Martial Arts), so either 5 or 8 depending on whether specialties apply to that.
Clinch (Hold): [roll1] (+ [roll2] if the knockdown succeeded) (+ [roll3] if specialties count)

Personal: 6/11
Peripheral: 11/25
Willpower: 8/8

[oramus]

Of Kites and Flutes

Isrukam watches Zsofika approach, almost hypnotised by her grace and speed; only the looming possiblities of pain and death keep him from staring in rapture.

It seems clear to him that Zsofika cannot be allowed to sense any weakness in her prey. Simply denying the attacks from hitting their mark seems to be the best course of action.

His lance, Bloody Recourse, swings in an impossibly perfect golden arc, leaving a translucent trail of light hanging in the air momentarily. Isrukam accompanies the swing with a proclamation of denial in Old Realm, spoken not loudly nor arrogantly but with a calm, confident authority; to Zsofika and others present who may recognise his words, they seem to have an eerie similarity to the surrender oaths the Yozi swore long ago. As he does so, the trail of light bursts into a glittering shower of runes which spell out his prohibition while falling to the ground and fading. His swing impacts the first blade and then the second in an explosion of bright sparks which briefly illuminates the area more brightly than Ligier, leaving Zsofika open for an assault from one of his allies.

Isrukam turns hurriedly and manages to give an encouraging smile to Rose before quickly turning his attention back to the huntress.

I'm picking my defence based on what I'd have done before knowing the rolls; my PDV isn't great so I'm gonna HGD both attacks, lest I explode in a shower of gore. I'm assuming that a stunt only applies for the defense as a whole rather than for each attack in the flurry, also. I'm using my intimacy towards Rose as HGD has the compassion flaw.

Also, the "similar to surrender oaths" bit is intended to humble her a little, not make her angry.

[4m spent, then another 4m spent] :smallfrown:

Edit: [+4m] from stunt success :smallsmile:

[Gargulec]

Of Kites and Flutes

Steel clashed with steel once more, as the arcing demon's blades met the unyielding Lawgiver's parry. And though he seemed weaker and less able than the Kite Flute was, she could not fight through him - the moonsilver swords rebounded, and she had step back once more, the bells chiming in a tone slightly different, more pressing, more furious. Her stance lowered, the sword-tips screeching against the brass of the street once more, leaving an elaborate trail in their wake.

And in that moment, Vana was at her, cloths and weapon spinning.

What happened in the next few moments was hard to describe, or even follow, such superhumanly swift was the deadly dance the Iron Wolf and the Kite Flute danced together amidst the basalt snow. The tune of belts melded with the whirling of the flowing robes into an eerie melody that seemed to linger even as the two split. And though no new cut nor bruise blemished Zsofika's body, the demon was panting, her breath coalescing into golden dust, and a pair of long, black braids cut from her mane remained on the street, cut by the sharp edges of the war-fan.

And here was the opening Tewi sought. His kicks, she managed to catch on the flat of her blades, but the swords were knocked to the sides with the force of the blows, and the terrestrial sprung upwards, grabbing and twisting her arms. For a moment, she struggled, but found herself unable to keep from falling down. With a loud grunt, she landed flatly on the pavement, immobilized in a tight clinch, squirming crazily, but unable to slip free.


Tick 4: Vana
Tick 5: Tewi, Rose
Tick 6: Isrukam
Tick 7:
Tick 8:
Tick 9: Vana
Tick 10:
Tick 11: Tewi, Zsofika (inactive)

[Flare]

Rose grinned.

It was not the grin of a pair of fangs in an otherwise perfect mouth. It was a mouth full of elongated, massive fangs, baring down on the pinned Zsofika.

"You taste delicious." she said, licking those horrible horrible fangs. As she returned to her upright position, she leaped, and, for a moment, was balanced perfectly on Isrukam's head, a single heel on the crown of his brow. Then she jumped even farther in the air, sailing into the sky. Behind her the blood of the demon slowly dripped down Soulbreaker, the grooves worn into it filled with gleaming Demon Blood. From her hands, black fire erupted, covering the blade from head to tip in a dark, moaning fire. She held there, for a moment, in mid-air, high above the rest of the fight. Then she dropped, slamming straight down, the blade to Zsofika's neck. The pavement shattered as she landed sword first, cracking under the pressure.

1 mote to Savage Shade Style, single attack on Zsofika. [roll0]

[Gargulec]

Of Kites and Flutes

The blow resounded through the streets, sending the flakes of basalt away as the brass itself cracked under the sheer force of Abyssal's puissance. Any lesser being would perish, its head severed from the body, but Zsofika was made of a sterner kind of flesh. The soulsteel dug into her neck and ground against her spine, but could not pass deeper. Rose tore her weapon free, and only then did the demon wail in pain, her sharp cry almost tormenting to hear, a sound given by a predator cornered and beaten, captured and caged. And then, she limped, ceasing to struggle in Water Aspect's iron grasp, her chimes suddenly silent. The city beat once more, and then it was still again, too.

Black blood poured lazily from the open wound, staining the street behind, mingling with the thin layer of the jet snow. A wind - though none of the really dangerous gales of Malfeas begun to blow, spreading the black flakes back into air, making them dance in the dispersed, all colourful light, reflecting it further. Out in the distance, entire street probably seem to glitter, the air itself alight with flickering lights.

The aggate buzzed her wings, and dove to the ground, landing right at Isurkam's feet, dropping the tome on the pavement. There was amazement in her eyes.

'Impressive' she skittered, folding the wings and gazing at fallen Zsofika.


Now leaving combat time.

[AmberVael]

Of Kites and Flutes

"Impressive indeed. Well done." Vana says to the others, nodding in particular to Tewi and Rose. "Now... Zsofika. Perhaps you would like to explain the meaning of this? Hunting without intent to kill, sending a servant to draw us in rather than coming yourself, it seems rather strange behavior." Vana whisks away her fan and crosses her arms behind her back. "I would have you explain yourself."

[Flare]

Her teeth shrinking back to normal, Rose flicked her blade. The demon's blood left the ground in Soulbreaker, splattering the collapsed demon with it's own gore. She drew the blade forward, then back, sheathing it slowly- it hissed as it was completely sheathed-, then she moved to the tome, grabbing it in both her hands. She quickly reattached it to herself, chains rattling and the book twitching as it replaced on her hip. She felt better, now that the heavy thing was there. She returned to Zsofika, crouching over her. She placed her fingers in the demon's puddle of blood, then clenched her fist, her blue nails sliding across the ground as she did, gathering a handful of the demon's blood. It flowed between her hands, and she licked her palm.

"...Delicious..." she murmured, ecstatic, as she licked up some more. "...It's so tasty..." Then, she shook her head, regaining her composure. She almost wanted to bite into the demon and suck her dry right there, but she would control herself. She wiped her hand on the ground, cleaning it, and pulled a knife from her shoe. "Don't worry..." she told the demon, placing the knife on a handful of the demon's hair. With a swift movement, she sliced off a chunk of the demon's bell-filled hair, holding it in her hand.

"...That's all I want." she explained.

[Sallera]

Of Kites and Flutes

Huh. This Knight's a vicious one. All he'd intended to do with his harmless attack was prove he wasn't prey to be carelessly provoked, but Rose had gone straight for the throat. Well, perhaps that's just the way of things here. Knights and Lawgivers play for higher stakes, it seems.

Rolling easily backward, Tewi regains his feet, attempting to brush off the spots of blood before they stained anything, although after that display it seemed a futile effort. Well, I suppose they also have the advantage of not needing to worry so much about whom they annoy. This challenge was her idea, so I hope she doesn't hold a grudge.

[oramus]

Of Kites and Flutes

After shooting a fiery glance at Rose in a rage over her sudden circus trick, Isrukam strides over to the fallen demon and waits for his ally to move aside. His anger is replaced by a mounting disgust as he watches the Rose drag her tongue across her blood-drenched palm, but he quickly hides his distaste and focuses his attention on Zsofika.

He stands over her as she lays on the floor panting, with pain, exhaustion and, disturbingly, a perverse joy. Her eyes slowly wander up until their gazes meet and lock. Isrukam sees her in her own eyes; thoughts and emotions which can't be fully hidden rise to the surface to his notice. Her body language, the placement of every limb and her slightly bowed head speak volumes to him. The fading percussive thrum of the ground whispers about her in a language only he can understand. Isrukam sees the alien vista of the demon's psyche, but more than simply seeing, he understands.

Finally satisfied, he inhales and exhales deeply before reaching down for the hideous tome and passing it to Rose.


I'm aiming to fling some social-fu at Zsofika to try and give her an intimacy towards me, so I'd like to work out what sort of customs and traditions she'd respond to. I'm also using Master of Small Manners, which should help at least somewhat, for [1m].

Intel + Socialise at a -3 internal penalty:

[roll0]

Edit: [+2m] for stunt

[Zoronos]

Bartrand Mar, between Scenes

Bartand whistled slightly as he walked back to his forge. Sure, nobody would hear it above the din and bustle of life in the Dross, but that wasn't his problem. He wasn't paying attention to the small shanty town that had sprung up around his workshop anyway; the people had come because the workshop grew food, and they ate the food, and that was all the interaction Bartrand had with most of them.

The Forge room was dark, lit only by flickering lights, but from the upper walkway Bartrand could hear the Haranhal listing around. They were bored; it was their nature without a project. Bartrand pulled a chain, and the emerald fire within the forge flared to life, throwing eerie green and black shadows across the walls. As one, the gathered Haranhal and the two smaller Marrotes looked up at their master.

"We have a new project! Bring in an Agate, and set steel to fire!" With a flourish, Bartrand grabbed one of the chains hanging from the ceiling, and slid down to the main floor of the forge. Three haranhal ran out to find the bound Agatae that Bartrand kept, and the rest began to scurry about the forge, preparing to smelt steel into whatever shape their master desired. The haranhal sang the beginning of a new Forge Chanty as their hammers began to ring through the forge with the shaping of steel.


Nothing to see here.
Just using CNNT and the spare time to start on a crafting interval.

[MrPrim]

Holiest of Holy Matrimonies

A punch bowl is on my head. I’ve been knocked down, I’m in my prettiest dress, and a punch bowl is on my head. This is like some sort of dream that I had in high school, if any of those concepts actually applied to me in any way.

She didn’t have to do anything like shout, WHO DARES?! She had a pretty good idea who dared. Goddamn Exalted, this is sort of effrontery is basically what they were made to do. Not for the first time, Oriasta wished that this pesky physical body would just go away – to protect her from the embarrassment of being covered in punch, at the very least. Stupid Hell. Stupid Exalted. Stupid punch.

The goddess got to her feet, spluttering and annoyed and adjusted her hair. Despite the situation, she did not do anything so foolish as to yell, ‘Now see here, you!’. She may be a justifiably angry symbolic embodiment of the procreative force... but you don’t get to stay that way by messing with the Exalted.

Oriasta merely sulked and tried to squeeze as much juice out of her dress as possible.

[Gargulec]

Things Lost and Broken
Jania

Despite her best efforts, mortals remained deaf on her attempts to spur them to work. Looking at them, ignoring her, gave the Jadeborn a queer feeling: they lived like rats, crowded in shacks and tents, scurrying among the dirt, their faces as empty as their eyes. They were the unlucky ones, the ones who could not craft not craft, and yet they decided to come to the the little town that grew around the gate to the Demon-City, in vain hope of finding a place for themselves there. The Green Sun, the brazed pavement, the distant, yet audible noise of the Malfeas' streets together sapped life from them, leaving them so... painfully empty, apathetic. They looked at the workshops and small homes of gods and dragon-bloods with envy, but did not posses any means of taking them form them: and they lacked the spirit to raise a homes for themselves. Jania could vaguely remember that similiar camps arose over all crafter towns and trade depots, and that those living there were said to quickly lose any semblance of culture or civilization - and there was a grain of truth in those words. For those few whose minds were not claimed by apathy looked more like some sort of predators, eyeing others for weakness and striking when they saw one. The Jadeborn, they averted their eyes from, seeing her as a creature of a higher order than they were, but also paid no mind to their calls.

All in all, after a bitter, fruitless hour of trying to motivate those humans to work, Jania returned to her simple workshop in a nearby gate-town, and quickly lost herself in the work, as she used to, vials of valuable brews filling her small cabinet in a truly impressive speed. And thus, the day ended for her.

And so, the day came to an end for her, and she laid her head on a hard, cold brass, slipping into a dreamless sleep.

Knocking to the frame of her door woke her up - for she had no doors, only a veil of coloured beads, gift of a Worker Jadeborn living not so far away, a token of appreciation. She sprang back to conciousness immediately, her eyes open before she even realized she was awake again.

As always here, it light outside, emerald brilliance glittering on the brass and basalt. But there was more light to her workshop now. A fire-duck, short and supple, clad in a torn, beige robe, stood on the threshold, her dark-skinned face reflecting perplexity.

'Sorry?' she begun, looking at you with an eyes like embers. 'You recognize me, right? I hope that I am not disturbing?'

Yes, it was hardly difficult to recognize her. She was the elemental Arianna held chained to a furnace, a short chain and a manacle still around her ankle, one of the links melted.

'Lady...' the fire-duck lowered her eyes, seriously embarrassed by that violation of Jania's privacy '...Arianna, she is gone, she demolished the smithy and spent essence like a madwoman on nothing, and then just... walked away... into the desert' she made a gesture towards distant Cecelyne 'she may come to harm... please, you seem kind...'

Formulating her plea apparently did not come easily to the lithe elemental of fire.


Silver and Gold Span the Infernal Heaven

Fury's transformation moved the guests more than it did to bother the Infernal, who regarded the Lunar with the same arrogant, mildly bored look on his face.

'Actually, yes, I quite believe so' he snapped back the Full Moon, walking down towards you, enjoying the fact that mortals gathered made a wide alley for him, scared witless by the caste mark on his forehead. 'And, so to better enlighten you, freakish animal' he continued, ostentatiously looking at some point quite above the Lunar's head 'I am not a slave to demons or whatever, though I'd be keen to make you one some day. You gotta keep the kennels full, you know how it is. Oh, and that's quite rude when made by someone like you' he noticed the gesture made by Punch, and his smirk rose a bit higher on his ugly face. 'Though thanks for the idea, gotta try it too... I guess she's gonna like it, 'cos, you know, Lunar depravities...' he looked the No-Moon squarely in the eye, and before she managed to aver her sight, she something within him that made her too scared to even hear what her newly-wed husband was saying.

Min tightened her grip on Punch, so much the Solar could easily feel the panicked fluttering of her little heart in her chest. He could remember her telling that she had never truly been in a fight, that she always tried to flee them when she could... and now, she was paying for that.

'Oh, and I maybe should have had tipped off Cearr about this little thing here too' the Infernal pondered 'he likes such pretty toys. Though he breaks them' he gave an exaggerated sigh 'way to easily... but, the Lunars are hardy, right? They keep saying that to me...'

His words were a poison, and it worked, tainting the little Lunar's heart with an overwhelming dread.

'So' he sneered finally, grinding to a halt a few steps from Adamu 'how do we do it? You give her to me for a night, and all live happily ever after, kind... sorta? Or...' with a swift motion, he grabbed the end of one of snarled lines of body paint on his body, and with a powerful jerk, accompanied by an unpleasant sound of rent flesh, tore it free from his skin. The pain broke the skin, weaving itself on your eyes into a long, shadowy tendril... a whip 'do I have to do it forcefully?'

[Dragnar]

Jania blinked at the elemental several times, her slightly-groggy mind taking a moment to process the information. So... The Solar had wandered out into the desert on her own? That was a five day trip, no matter what happened, and even if the Exalt survived, she didn't know of any way to track down where she would end up. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she rubbed her temples and looked over at the elemental.

"So, she just ran off, without any explanation? Ugh... While she might have been expecting more praise, it wasn't THAT bad an idea, nor were we all that insulting towards it... I suppose she didn't happen to say anything about a destination?"

As terrible as the meeting had been, Jania wasn't going to just abandon one of the few survivors of Creation to the demons. But without a bit more to go on, there was literally nothing she could do. Their numbers were too few to search all of Malfeas for just one Solar...

[Odd_Canuck]

Silver and Gold Span the Infernal Heaven

With a shrug at the refused offer, Punch reaches over to the table where the stack of token gifts for unexpected guests were stored. Picking up the tin-boxed set of decorative dishware, he tosses one at the feet of the arrogant interloper with the statement "Not Invited. Go."

Raising a hand in the direction of the demonic band he flashes a number of numeric hand signs... Five, Three, One, Three and the band picks up the cue to stop playing the demonic classics they had launched into with the start of the chaos and into one of the songs he taught them.

Grabbing Min lightly by the hand, he starts to dance to the music (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=upsZZ2s3xv8), while keeping an eye on the arrogant lout lest he decide to be foolish.

A Polite nod and smile is launched in the direction of Fury, combined with a glance over at the Infernal gate crasher.

Defend Other on Min

[Gargulec]

Things Lost and Broken

Slowly, the elemental entered Jania's workshop, stepping very carefully, as if there was anything to break by carelessness inside.

'She did, of course she did!' she ensured the Jadeborn very quickly. 'Not... directly, though...'

Minding her every movement, the fire-duck sat down the brazen floor, kneeling with her legs folded.

'I... spied on her, actually' she admitted, gulping, the light in her eyes dimming a littlest bit. 'When she wrecked the forge and started screaming about ending all that' she pressed on, bowing her head 'I became scared... of her, mostly. So I melted the chain... and then...' the elemental paused to cough 'Lady Arianna stormed out, and I... followed her, hoping to calm her... but she was deaf on my pleas' there was a faint trace of bitterness in her voice as she was saying that 'but I followed her regardless... to the Port Wrath itself!'

There was barely contained terror in her words as mentioned the name of this infamous place, and rightly so. Ah, Port Wrath, the wretched hive of scum and villainy! Hell within Hell, they called it. Sitting at the edge of Cecelyne, it belonged neither truly to Oasis nor was it a part of the Demon City proper. Those of the Creation-born who did not accept social order or laws imposed upon them by the Celestial Host or rulers of Hell dwelt there: smugglers, criminals. And though the place looked barely better than one of those settlements around gate-towns, illegal (and profitable business) was already taking place there - and on a no small scale. Only wonder was how it managed to gain such a dreaded reputation within just a few months since the End of Days.

'She spoke with bad people there' the fire duck stated the obvious. 'So that they would take her somewhere, on their sandships...'

She gave Jania a beseeching look.

'Don't take me wrong, she is not a bad person' she started to speak very fast, as if fearing that the Jadeborn would interrupt her 'childish, but not bad. She is better than she appears to be! She only tries to play such an... arrogant person, she is different when there is no one around... Please, you have to help her' she begged, touching her forehead to the the ground, her fiery mane leaving a burn mark on the brass.


The Visits
Bartrand

They were working in a group of four. The youngest and strongest sawed the massive slab of brass into an inch-thick sheets, his dark blade wailing infernally as it bit into fragments of Malfeas' body. Soon, it would dull, so he would come over to the workshop and offer his blood and prayer to the craftsman so that they would sharpen it once more, and it would be keen again then. The older and nimble-fingered carried a freshly-cut sheet to the side and chiselled it, until it was smooth, humming a song from the lost North as he worked. The woman to his side gathered the shavings he produced to a small bucket, for brass in Malfeas burnt as surely as an actual wood, and they needed fire. The work of all three of them was important, but not crucial. The most important job lied in the hands of an unassuming old man, bald as a knee, with a long, stained beard. To him, the young man did carry a ready sheet, and then he would grumble something, reach into a jug of some old mixture that brewed over a fire and paint an intricate symbol on the metal, the potion burning itself into it in a manner of some acid. But it did not weaken it, no, it only made it stronger, strong enough to serve as a wall. Maybe in Creation it would fail against the weather and the flow of time, but here, in Oasis, weather was hardly a concern for anyone, for weather was Yozis, and Yozis kept away from the Creation-born. As for the time... you had more important thing to mind than future now.

And so, all four of them created a part of a new home for someone. The town around Mar's workshop was full of their works, for they were reliable and cheap, and just two sheets were enough to create a simple house, half-dug into the floor. Poor and pitiable home, but a home still.

Them did Bartrand see as he gazed out of the window on the top of his manse.

'This is impressive, how fast you adapt'

As a part of an agreements set as the raising of this workshop-manse, the one whose essence flowed through it would have always a right of free entrance inside. Right she was taking use of just now.

Inhumanely slender and shapely, delicate of features, yet predatory in action, clad in a tight, jet-black dress that revealed just enough to set a fire in a man's soul ablaze, surrounded by a faint, yet spicy fragrance she shed an aura of passion around herself, shadow breeding fires in an amusing, very malfaen inversion of the laws the world rolled by. Aleuva, that was her name. The Keeper of the Forge of Night.

'Soon' she added, with a sound suggesting a glass of silver wine being raised in an unspecified salute 'they shall consider you their God-King, you are well aware of that... maybe they do already, unknowingly. You fit in nicely in the way or our realm. And don't you' there was a pause 'deny that. Oh, and by the way, Bartrand' the Solar could easily see the smile on her face 'if Lords are graceful, soon, I shall have a soul to deal with, to render into azoth' she said that as if it was perfectly ordinary to have second-circle demons dissolved in an acid 'and I would rather do it... delicately, out of the eyes of those who do frown on such practices. I hope' and there was no hope in her words, only a thinly veiled order 'that I can expect your assistance in the deed?'

Before the Twilight could reply, there was a sound of a lame being ascending on the stairway, stepping heavily and without any finesse.

'Lord!' it was one of forge's fervid smiths, it was obvious without even looking. 'There is a visitor, a supplicant. Should we... let her in?'


Grace of the Undying
Artificer

They came without a warning, at the last tomescu howls, the moment brilliant malfean night was beginning.

There were words, but they quit comprehension. There were orders, but without sense or meaning. There was madness and torment and ecstasy mixed into a thickest of brews, one that numbed the body and stole the mind.

And there were images, too. Crazy parade of the meaningful memories. The face of Arianna, the Green Sun, the desert that stretched out into infinity. And then a series of quick flashes. Branding iron. Emerald fire. Laughter, screams, blood, collapse. Faces of people realizing their doom. Portents of Oblvion.

And then, a single thundering clarion.

SHE.

Images dimmed, the mind was back in its place, the throbbing sensation in the back of the head only reminder of the sudden of the Whispers of the Void at the End of All Things.

[Zoronos]

The Visits

Bartrand arched an eyebrow, set down his Hyperion Key, and leaned back to regard the demon. He smiled, ever so slightly. He enjoyed her visits, though he would likely not admit that to anyone, least of all her. They were always interesting. Sometimes harrowing, sometimes frightening, but always interesting.

He held up a hand to the Haranhal, "Yes, whomever it is, let them in, find out who they are, and have them wait in the front room. I will see to them after I finish here; as you can see, I have a far more important guest at the moment."

As the Haranhal hurried back down the stairs, Bartrand sighed and looked out the window. "You're right, they probably will consider me their god-king. But they're wrong about it, and we both know it. They look up to me because this manse provides them food, and they presume it is by my beneficence that they eat. Do you think they'd be so quick to praise me if they knew who raised this place, or that it was consecrated, in a way, to the Shadow Of All Things? Of course, in the end it matters not. And yes, you're right, I am fitting in rather nicely here. On that note..."

Bartrand pulled a bottle from under his desk, and a pair of glasses. He was about to blow the dust off of them when he stopped; this place had no dust, no need for that old habit. The demon realm was strange like that. He pulled the stopper from the bottle, and began to pour out the silvery liquid, giving Aleuva the larger glass. She was his guest, after all. "Sorry, all I have on hand at the moment is Gilmyne." Bartrand slid the glass across the table to the demon.

Taking a sip of the slightly bitter but still quite tasty liquid, Bartrand returned his attention to his guest. "I am of course happy to assist, but you knew that before you asked. I'll need some specifics, what demon, when, if you want me to preform the summoning or if you will take care of transport, etcetera."

[Volthawk]

Fury yawns, obviously not a natural yawn, but a long, drawn-out mocking yawn. "Yeah, yeah. Threat threat threat, 'oh, I'm a Sword of Hell, and I'm big and scary'."

Fury walks over to meet the Infernal, standing taller than him, bending down over him, grabbing him and bringing him up to Fury's eye level.

"Well, you don't scare me. In fact, all these threats are amusing. But feel free to try something, if you feel you can take us all on. Just don't be surprised when you end up in pieces after this."


Engaging a clinch with the Infernal.

Join Battle: [roll0] 7 successes

Dexterity+Martial Arts: [roll1] 6 successes

[Dragnar]

Jania nodded slowly as the elemental explained things, thinking her options over as it spoke. So, the fool of a solar at least had a destination in mind... but likely not one that would end well for the rest of the mortals here.

"Port Wrath... Well, after that outburst I can't say it's surprising she would head there. Still, it sounds like she's in over her head..." The jadeborn shook her head, standing and stretching for a moment. "Nothing for it then. I'll pay the Port a visit, see if I can find where she went. After that... no promises, but I'll do what I can."

[Odd_Canuck]

Barely into the second verse, Fury has made his move and while not the ideal one to Punch's thoughts it is a move none the less. Leaning in close with his face deadpan to give no clue, he asks his new partner the most important question any can ask.. "Two are One. His Fate?". None save Punch hear her faintly whispered response, or the near-feral look that crosses his face for but a moment.

Gently switching off himself for Oriasta on the dance floor, Punch's head hangs low as his caste mark starts to glow faintly. He walks over to the buffet table keeping himself between Min and the interloper, and he picks up a small bowl of rice in his left hand. Keeping his head down he declares "Swords of Hell Right. Challenge Accepted and Witnessed."

Join Battle: [roll0]

Continuing Defend Other on Min flurried with a Draw/Ready Buffet action

Spending 5 motes of Peripheral on activating arms of multiple manipulation, they are not yet visible.

[MrPrim]

Oriasta blinked as the groom twirled towards her and, ceremoniously and quite gracefully, handed her the bride in such a way that Oriasta was suddenly on the dance floor as well. Oriasta stared, wide-eyed at the young Lunar in her arms, as Punch danced away.

”W… what?” she squeaked, holding onto Min out of shock and surprise more than anything. But the three Celestial Exalts seemed to now be in their own little world… and Oriasta was holding the treasure they seemed to be fighting for.

Gods don’t generally sweat, but Oriasta suddenly felt like she was willing to give it the old college try.

[Gargulec]

Silver and Gold Span the Infernal Heaven

The waltz, the fact of being ignored, all that wiped the smile off the Infernal's face.

'And that is just...' her snarled, the ironical feeling of superiority gone from his voice, the hate that was in it suddenly surfacing 'is just a lack of proper respect! But worry not, curs...' he spat on the brass 'I'll beat that into you.'

He backed down a single step, effortlessly slipping Full Moon's graps, the long whip in his hands coiling and twisting as if it had a life on its own, leaving black tar where it touched the ground. He moved his eyes from Min to Fury now, though, and while there was no fear to be sensed in him, you could not escape a feeling that Lunar's words did hit him somewhere, rub salt into an open wound.

'SILENT!' his growl silenced the demon musician, and you could hear him breathing in a slowly rising fury. But he was not attacking, the end of his whip biting into shadows, jumping from one pool of darkness to another, ready to strike... yet he was hesitating, the caste mark on his forehead gleaming a bit less brightly.

You could not ask for more.

In Oriasta arms, Min was not shuddering any more - the little Lunar calmed herself at least a bit, and was not tracing her husband with wary eyes, muttering a silent prayer to the Argent Madonna under her breath.


Things Lost and Broken

The elemental shook her hand, raising a bit higher.

'I would never ask for more, no, no, Lady Jania!' she said hastily, a smile appearing on her face, her eyes glowing again. 'Just try... try find her, so that she will not become any more lost that she is already!

There was something touching in the look the fire duck gave Jania, some sort of devotion to a master that she remembered so clearly from the workers and warriors of her own kind. The lithe being would go after Arianna into the Maw of the Void if she would need to, and that was to be respected. Jadeborn lived a lives of duty and knew how to appreciate it.

'Will you require any aid, Lady Jania?' she asked, hopeful that maybe she will do more than just seek other's help 'whatever you need, I can try to accomplish!'

One way or another, with her help or without, a trip to the Port Wrath would take at least a day, unless Jania would find herself a better mean of transportation. And such voyage... such voyage should not be taken lightly. No, not to the Port Wrath. Preparations had to be made first, if the entire operation was to have any chances of succeeding.


The Visits

The demon accepted the glass with a quick curtsy, taking a single sip and allowing the precious liquor to rest on her tongue for a moment, so that the incomparable taste she would know in full.

'She must have been very graceful' she verdicted, smiling, not paying a slightest mind to the fact that the fervid smith behind her was openly ogling her with an eyes so full of lust that probably only feat kept him from taking... less considerate actions 'back in her dancing days. You serve chalcanth well picked, Lawgiver'

She took another sip, her eyes starting to glisten, her scent getting stronger and less... controlled, and then she just downed the glass in one shot. Mar could even see tiny droplets of sweat beginning to form on her forehead. The drink she has been drinking so much lately... was a powerful one.

'To answer your question' she chuckled all of sudden, dancing to the demon you summoned and casually shoving him down the staircase 'yes, yes they would! You are the lord of their lives and deaths, if not for you, they would rot! Even if you reveal yourself to be one of us, they will still worship you! Beautiful, is not it? So weak, so damm easy to use!' there was a genuine joy and passion in her words now, her reserved demeanour starting to drop. 'As for the demon... let us just say that a certain hunter... a certain hunter...' she repeated slowly, pronouncing each syllable with extra care 'is about to be hunted down... cornered, chained, caged and drowned... and then I shall drink her, or maybe...' she jumped to you, wrapping her arm around your neck, dropping the glass to the floor. It shattered with a loud crack 'maybe, just maybe we shall drink her together.'

She was hot in touch, but not naturally. The fire burning within her has been stoked recently, and now, it was showing.

[DaWrecka]

Grace of the Undying

The Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies stared up at the ceiling of his forge, his thoughts troubled for the first time since his Exaltation. He was far from unaccustomed to the whispers of the Neverborn, but seldom had the visions come so clearly. The Artificer had believed the Solar could be useful to him, but clearly she was much more - Clearly, the Solar Arianna was important to The End Of All Things. He could question how, but ultimately it did not matter. It was not his place to reason why, it was merely his place to serve Oblivion.

He sat up and cast an eye at the benches in the middle of his lab. His latest subject had expired some hours previously. Regrettably, the Artificer had failed to snare the mortal's soul. Whether it had gone to Oblivion, or to whatever this sorry Oasis had that passed for Lethe, he did not know. In either case, however, it represented lost resources; A soul he could not forge into soulsteel or bind to some other purpose. Its death had been somewhat wasteful, as well; The data he had been able to gather from that one had been useful, perhaps, but it had taught him nothing new. Still, the secrets of a new Great Contagion eluded him.

Perhaps it would be beneficial to get away from the lab for a little while... Some of the greatest epiphanies occurred after a period away from the experimenting table. He would go and speak to this Solar now, rather than later. There would always be time for investigating her means and motivations later. He removed his apron and crossed to where Oblivion Case stood. Some minutes later, he was fully-clad, with his daiklave sheathed across his back, and left the lab.

The deathknight found himself nonplussed once more when he reached the residence of Arianna, clad once more in his soulsteel armour and with his daiklave across his back. The destruction was no surprise to him, but the inhabitants struck him by their absence. Stepping across the threshold, he looked around the forge, but with the exception of the melted shackle that he had previously-seen holding the fire elemental, there was nothing obvious relating to the Solar's disappearance.

Clearly, this path to the Void was not to be an easy one...

[Dragnar]

She was going to regret this. She was sure of it. Not that that was going to change her mind. Jania pushed the beads out of the way, exiting her humble abode as she glanced back at the elemental. "I'm going to go visit your mistress's workshop, make sure there's nothing more to be found there. In the meantime, it would be helpful if you could find any others willing to help. I'm sure a few of the other jadeborn would be happy to come, at the least."

[MrPrim]

[roll0]

Join Battle/Hide from Battle

[Gargulec]

Things Lost and Broken
Artificer, Jania

The destruction within Arianna's forge had been chaotic, without any thought put to it: clearly a work of someone truly enraged. The contrast between the mess it was right now and immaculate order Artificer witnessed during her misguided presentation was striking indeed.

Tools lied strewed around, throw all over the forge... or actually what remained of them lied. As soon as it became obvious that the crazy solar was gone - and it did become obvious very fast, for it is not an easy task to hide such fact in a small society of gate-town crafters - the forge had been thoroughly picked through by anyone who could put his hands on it. Only the most broken implements and things too heavy to carry, like the anvil, remained. Arianna's extensive library was gone, the empty shelves reminding of the treasures they carried mere days ago, her storage emptied and put to a better use, the lump of soulsteel she put so much hope in probably already in a workshop of some curious dragon-blood. Someone was even determined enough to tear out the floor, hoping to find something mysterious beneath - and was probably sightly disappointed by the fact that there was only more of the brass there.

A young boy, bare footed and in a torn tunic was picking through the waste that remained curiously as Artificer entered. He jumped up instantly, throwing the junk he held to the ground and with a loud wail in a language the abyssal could not quite understand, darting past him towards the entrance as if the ground beneath him was literally ablaze - and managing to bump his head right into Jania's jade stomach, knocking himself back to the floor.

It was a moderate surprise for the jadeborn, for as a matter of fact, she had just entered the demolished forge - thought probably still a lesser one than to see a young boy cornered by an abyssal in a derelict forge.

'Ow' the mortal muttered, dazedly, and looked up at you, apparently believing himself to be in a deep troubles.

[DaWrecka]

Things Lost and Broken

The Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies favoured Jania with a simple nod, and focused his attention back on the young mortal. He wasn't trying to be intimidating, truth be told. But between his moaning soulsteel armour and the corpselike qualities of his head, he didn't need to try to intimidate the youngster.
"Explain," he said simply, in what was - for him at least - a level, even tone. "Now."

[Dragnar]

Jania shrugged off the collision, stepping around the boy to take a look around the rubble. Well, the solar had certainly been through with her destruction... Which was even more impressive after her rather pathetic attempt at throwing just one table yesterday. She waved a hand at the abyssal absent-mindedly as she carefully examined the mess for anything the earlier looters might have missed.

"No need to set a Wyld hunt on the boy. He's likely just here to sift though Arianna's things, same as several others appear to have done already."

Fortunately, most of those others were likely in a greater rush than she was. If the solar had left so much as a scrap of useful evidence she would find it. Just had to divide the area into even sections, and scan each one thoroughly to be sure she didn't miss anything.

Search roll, after taking a few seconds to plan for Pillar of Temperance's extra dice: [roll0]

[oramus]

With his insight into Zsofika's psyche comes an idea; a chance to gain a valuable ally as well as preventing a probable slaughter, Isrukam notes, seeing more than a little bloodlust in Rose's eyes.

He clears his throat and addresses the demon anew.

"You are beaten, Zsofika! On your own terms and in what is quite frankly an embarassingly short time, leaving us without as much as a mark. The shame must truly be unbearable! And now sit there, bloodied and spent, in less than favourable company; are you concerned, I wonder? No doubt you should be!" Isrukam smiles and looks over his shoulder at Vana, at Tewi, and lastly at Rose, who is subtly licking a small drop of blood from the corner of her mouth.
"I feel confident in saying that my companions would have little problem with slaying you right here and now. But I have another idea." Isrukam leans down towards the fallen Zsofika ever so slightly, his voice becoming low and almost seductive. "Imagine, Zsofika, what hunts we could send you on? How many enemies we have here that we would have you chase and slay? The glorious Kite Flute, striking fear into all she pursues! And such a simple thing to do; you need only say 'yes'!"

Isrukam stands tall again, and lays out the terms of his proposal precisely and clearly.

"Zsofika, in exchange for your life and in recompense for your failure, you will vow to the following: to each of us present you will offer your services when requested to do so, and you will protect Oasis against any foes it may encounter. What is your answer?"

Isrukam is trying to shame Zsofika as well as point out that we (particularly Rose/Tewi) could beat the crap out of her should the need arise, while playing up to her love of the hunt (her motivation) and basic survival instincts. As a note, he himself will not try and kill Zsofika if she refuses, but he might try and bargain a little if permitted.

[DaWrecka]

Things Lost and Broken

"Perhaps," the Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies replied to the Jadeborn. "But I would hear it from him, first. Besides which, perhaps he saw something that could prove useful." He returned his attention to the urchin. "Well, boy?" he said, his tone turning dangerous. "I suggest you tell us everything you know, before I decide to do something... drastic."

(Manipulation + Presence) roll to intimidate the urchin into spilling everything he knows:
[roll0]

[Gargulec]

Of Kites and Flutes

The smell of copper filled the air, and without a warning, there was a rain - though again thankfully not one of the Herga's or Kimbery's ones, no. This one was different. From the maroon clouds up above, warm gore started pour down, and the flakes you took for basalt before dissolved into blood beneath your feet. Within mere heartbeats, a quick spring was running down the street, staining the brass red.

Zsofika whispered something very quietly, gave a call - and the street obeyed. The cracked shutters swung open, crashing against the walls, the basalt pillars holding the buildings up suddenly cracking down. Like a river, black sand poured from the open windows onto the blood-flooded street, and turning into gore too. Ankle deep it became. And in its dark surface, images flashed and reflected. Images of glories and the hunt, of death and feasts. Of Silver Chair shining brightly on Creation's sky, the moonlight illuminating the great desert.

The buildings begun to creak, walls cracking. In the distance, a drum was beating, you could hear its deep, dark rythm with an absolute clarity, each beat a bit slower, each echo more mournful.

From the shadows, a creatures with crumbling standards spawned, crying tears of silver, casting their banners into the river of blood, so they would never be seen again.

The rain grew into a silent torrent, that drowned the fiefdom. Drum beat and beat, each striking bringing the melody closer to its terminal note. The things that dwelt in the shadows dissolved into black sand on your eyes too, joining the hellish river.

The Kite Flute closed her eyes, her face marred not by the wound on it, but on what she has been unwittingly pressed into.

She reached with her hand, grasping Isrukam's palm.

'Yes' she clarioned, and the word echoed in the torrent as if it was an agonal scream. The walls came soundlessly down, crashed into pavement, and the deluge of blood washed over the wreckage taking it down, down, down...

The fiefdom died with its master freedom.

[Flare]

Rose does not waste time, even as the Fiefdom collapses around them. She dabs some of the demon's blood off her lips, then puts it away. She is unmoving for a moment, as she looks at the Eclipse.

She pats Isurkam on the shoulder once the Oath is done. "Good job. You make a good springboard, and the rest of what you did was fairly impressive as well." she offers, then turns to the bound demon, giving another smile. There were no fangs this time. "I have a request first." she explains. "Take us to Amalion."

[oramus]

As the words are spoken and the downpour begins, there is light; warm, golden light which bursts from Isrukam's and Zsofika's clasped hands and forms a blinding halo circling the Eclipse's forehead. They remain immoving with their hands held as the oath takes root and as the surrounding buildings plummet to the ground and are devoured by thick tides of crimson. They release their grip, the light dies away, the downpour fades, and the pact is made.

Isrukam gingerly picks up four tiny silver bells from the blood-slick ground, no doubt fallen from the demon during their skirmish, and hands them out to the group. One to to Vana, accompanied with a polite bow of his head, one to Tewi, with a smile and hand on his shoulder, and a third to Rose, given politely but at something of a distance.

"These bells are of you, and you of them; when you hear them ring, we will have need of you," he says to Zsofika, before turning to Enlil and speaking a word of gratitude for his assistance.

Gained [+4m] for the stunt, and spent [10m, 1wp] for the Eclipse Anima power.

[AmberVael]

Of Kites and Flutes

Disgust flickers across Vana's face at the results of Isrukam's work and words. Yet, seeing as Rose stood with him, still lusting for blood, she decides to keep her protest silent for now. It was easy to see when the audience didn't favor her- wait until the stage was right, and then, then she could change things.

Vana will brush past Rose and Isrukam, reasserting her presence as she offers a hand to Zsofika. "On your feet." She suggests quietly, not commanding or rebuking with the words. "The prey doesn't wait for the hunter." A simple reminder of identity, and a gesture of respect- for now, that's all Vana offers.

[Gargulec]

Things Lost and Broken

The urchin stepped back from the abyssal, his eyes filled with dread.

'Don't....' he managed to utter before the Daybreak's mind exploded in whispers.

His mouth opened without him even understanding what was happening, and a stream of words that one could see as shadows but not hear, for they were profane beyond the mortal senses sprouted forward, drinking even the spiteful light of Ligier, towards the boy. The shadows shrouded him, muffling his horrified screams as the will of the undying Titans tore his little soul to tiny shreds and then dragged them back into the Abyssal's body, were the necrotic essence of his Black Exaltation would slowly feast on them, using the anguished screams of the child's sentience's vestige as the most exquisite of all drinks.

When the shadows withdrew, the body limped to the floor, lifeless, eyes empty - though if one would gaze into them with enough intensity and intent, the Whispers of the Neverborn would crawl into the back of his mind, to drive him slowly insane. There was something deeply tragic, yet beautiful about how his corpse seemed untouched, unbroken in contrast to his soul so ultimately crushed.

Jania, meanwhile, inspected the forge with utmost efficiency and found nothing extraordinary. Nothing was amiss here, nothing.

[Zoronos]

The Visits

There was a drunk demon on his lap, with her arm around his neck. This was unexpected. In the future, he needed to remember how low demonic alcohol tolerances were. Furthermore, there was someone downstairs waiting to see him. He should see to that... the faint smell of spice was almost overpowering. A man could drown in that scent if he wasn't careful. One could inhale deeply and then forget forever to come up for air and breath. No, he had to keep his head clear. No matter the warmth of the creature on his lap, or her beauty, or the feel of her breath on his neck... No. Things to do. She may be intoxicated by the drink, but he needn't be intoxicated by her.

Seeing as how the demon had practically leapt onto his lap, he shifted slightly, to stabilize her weight. It wouldn't do to drop her onto the floor. Bartrand looped an arm around her waist, and pulled her close for a moment. He looked past her and out the window again as he spoke quietly into her ear. "So, you'd have me rule as a tyrant, terrible and fell, lording over a cowed populace? You're right, they would still worship me. Now they look to me out of hope, but yes, even in fear they would still look to me. There is a certain symmetry to it. For now, let them hope. So long as it serves my purposes, I see no reason to take that from them.

With a small gesture, Bartand plucked the second flute from the table, the one he had been drinking from and which was still a bit over half full. He placed it into the demon's hand, and with a minor effort, Bartrand looped his other arm underneath the small demon's legs and picked her up as he stood. "I will render that hunter for you, and perhaps yes, we shall drink it together. But in the mean time, we must go see who is waiting in my front room."

With a sweeping movement, Bartrand proceeded down the steps to the front room, the demon cradled in his arms. He thought to himself how this must look exceedingly strange. Unfortunately, dropping her or denying her would likely result in her attempting to drag him back to her forge. Perhaps he'd emerge victorious in such a fight, but he did not want to take such chances. Being hammered into some piece of artifice was not really the fate Bartrand wanted. And furthermore, who would possibly be waiting in his front room? He didn't get many visitors.

[Sallera]

Of Kites and Flutes

A low whistle escapes Tewi as buildings crumble, bearers fall, and the street fills with blood. That is one flashy oath. He accepts the bell with a neutral expression, eyes flickering to the fallen demon. Still, what kind of person demands servitude after winning one fight? From the look of it, Vana wasn't particularly impressed either, although that might just be from the tide of blood. He hoped Amalion wouldn't worry too much about the state of her petitioners' clothing.

I suppose having the right to call on her could be useful once in a while... but I'd better not use it unless I need to. Nothin' in that agreement that keeps her from making trouble for us. Maybe I should find out what she wanted, too, see if I can get on her good side. Tucking the bell away with a shrug, he nods to Isrukam and Rose and moves past them to Zsofika. "If you don't mind me askin', what was it you sought us out for?"

[Dragnar]

Jania abandoned her search slightly early as the abyssal... She wasn't even sure WHAT he just did. Nor did it make any sense. He was interrogating the poor kid one second, and murdering him the next. She took a few steps away form the scene as she hurriedly tried to decide what to do, before deciding to simply stay quiet. Watching the abyssal with narrowed eyes, she waited for him to make the first move, be it some further madness, or some explanation.

[Volthawk]

Fury also had his own boiling rage - how dare he come into this wedding, making his threats and insinuations! Unlike the Infernal, however, Fury didn't let it bide away. He didn't plan to - in fact, using that rage was part of how he fought. The rage boiling over, Fury charges at the Infernal, a swift barrage of toxic claw with enough pure, raw force to send the Infernal flying away from the wedding and the shrine.


Action: Flurrying attacks on the Infernal and activating Relentless Lunar Fury - also activating Impressions of Strength (with the Mighty Ram Practice edge) and Wasp Sting Blur as they are Fury-OK. Altogether, it costs 5 motes and 1 Willpower, and lasts eight actions. Altogether, it's Speed 4 (Shredders have Speed 4, and RLF is Reflexive).

Attack 1: [roll0] + 1 success = 12 successes
Damage: successes+14L/5
Extra effects: Inflicts poison (5L/action, 2, –/–, -2), and also causes knockback (with the distance increased by a yard)

Attack 2: [roll1] + 1 success = 13 successes
Damage: successes+14L/5
Extra effects: Inflicts poison (5L/action, 2, –/–, -2), and also causes knockback (with the distance increased by a yard)

Attack 3: [roll2] + 1 success = 9 successes
Damage: successes+14L/5
Extra effects: Inflicts poison (5L/action, 2, –/–, -2), and also causes knockback (with the distance increased by a yard)

Combat block:
Used attacks: Silver Shredders
Speed: 4 | Acc: 26 | Damage: +14L/5 | Parry DV: 10 | Rate: 3 | Inflicts poison (5L/action, 2, –/–, -2); knockback (+1 yard to distance)

Soak: 43B/42L/20A
Hardness: 10B/10L

Motes:
Personal: 19/22 (0 committed)
Peripheral: 30/30 (16 committed)

Willpower: ????? ??

Health levels:
-0 [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]
-1 [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]
-2 [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]
-4 [ ]
X [ ]
Dying [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]

Charms active:
Gift charms:
Claws of the Silver Moon (Basic natural attack gains Speed +0, Accuracy +8, Damage +7L/5, Defence +0, Rate +0; can parry lethal attacks without a stunt; 3m committed)
Armour-Forming Technique (+15B/15L/5A soak, counts as armour; 5m committed)

Warform mutations:
Armoured Body (+4B/4L soak, +4 die to Survival rolls)
Talons (punches deal +2L damage)
Night Vision
Toxin (Silver Shredders inflict poison, (5L/action, 2, –/–, -2)
Third Eye (+1 to all Awareness rolls)
Enhanced Senses [sight] (+2 to Awareness rolls related to sight)
Tail (+2 to Athletics rolls)

Relentless Lunar Fury:
1 automatic success to all combat actions
Ignore -1 wound penalties
Physical Attribute Excellency cap is (Attribute+Essence), so 9

Impressions of Strength (activated with RLF):
Mighty Ram Practice: Targets of attacks have to check against knockback, knockback distance is increased by one yard.

Wasp Sting Blur:
All attacks have their Speed reduced by one.

[DaWrecka]

Things Lost and Broken

The Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies found himself taken completely by surprise. He hadn't even been expecting the child to know anything of use, but he certainly wasn't expecting the child's death. He felt no particular sorrow, but it had come so unexpectedly that he had no idea what to do. "What... what just happened?" he asked of the uncaring air, still reeling mentally.

[MrPrim]

Silver and Gold! Siiilver and Gooold!

Oriasta edged away from the battle, holding her staff out in front of her (seemingly more to measure the distance between she and the battling warriors than to actively defend herself).

”They should stop this, she muttered, probably not even audibly enough to be heard by Min, “This is a wedding. Why do Exalts always end up fighting? It’s so… dumb!”

Action: NO ACTION!

Combat block: Dodge DV 7
Soak: 4B/4L
Hardness: -

Motes:
Personal: 70/80 (0 committed)

Willpower: 10/11

Health levels:
-0/ 4
-1/ 10
-2/ 9
-4/ 1

Charms active: None.

[Odd_Canuck]

Punch stands. Head still bowed, rice bowl in his left hand, he is motionless. Even as Fury's claws lash out next to him and the interloper reacts, he merely stands as unmoving and apparently breathless as a statue. The guests that come from Bordertown, or even The Forge itself stir themselves to rapid actions. Those that have heard of Punch being like this before edge closer to get a better look. Those that have seen it, be it when his authority was challenged or worse when he was called to judge a dispute, start moving away or ducking under cover. Three of the guests react most strongly, an Air Elemental, Dragon Blooded and Mortal Savant as they note that Punch has drawn a rice bowl. A whisper of "Oh High Holy Hell, not the rice!" leaves the lips of Trismagistus the Savant as he and the other two immediately turn and run behind the large brass slabs that were set up as a decorative wall. Throwing dignity aside, Trismagistus barely avoids ripping his best suit on the edge as he dives for cover. Somewhere on the third layer of Malfeas a demon makes a chalk mark upon a board, recording the fact of his prayer.

To any that don't know him, it might well seem that Punch is not concerned about the Infernal before him... that maybe he is ignoring him, or doesn't even consider the man worth fighting. A studied insult to the man? Perhaps one might assume that. They would be wrong, but they might assume it just the same.

Yes, I'm trying to stunt standing still. ;)

I'm effectively Holding Action until the Infernal picks a target.

Secondary action is from the Arms of Multiple Manipulation (not currently visible)



Combat block: 9
Primary Action: Defend Other on Min
Secondary Action: Defend Other on Oriasta

Soak:
Bashing:19 (22 vs CoD) Vs Piercing is 11/14
Lethal:14 (17 vs CoD) Vs Piercing is 8/11
Aggravated:13 Vs Piercing is 7

Hardness:
Bashing: 5
Lethal: 5

Essence:
Personal: 19 /19
Peripheral: 22 /27 (13 Attuned)

Willpower: 10 / 10

Health:
-0 [ ][ ][ ]
-1 [ ][ ][ ][ ]
-2 [ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ]
-4 [ ]
X [ ]

[Gargulec]

Silver and Gold Span the Infernal Heaven

Fury's savage attacks struck the impudent Infernal squarely into his chest, the strength of the Luna's chosen tearing the Slayer off the ground, launching him up, into the sky, so high that the gathered quickly lost any sight of him.

That is, until a green bonfire exploded above their heads.

With a thunderous roar, he came crashing down like a comet or a meteor, his body momentarily turned into pure basalt. He smashed into the ground, the brazen floor cracking under the sheer power of the impact, a shockwave of emerald fire blowing the tables and the shrine into splinters, throwing guests and exalts to the ground.

The cloud of powdered stone and steel raised, and within, a second green sun was blazing.

'Now' you heard a furious sneer 'you really managed to **** me off.'

He strode forth, the whip in his hand split into dozens of jagged, shadowy tendrils, each of them hungry for pain. His face was a mask of sheer terror now, the devils bound within now dancing openly in his burning eyes as a viridian wisps, dark ichor dripping from his pointed teeth showcased in a wide grin.

'You defend her, Solar, don't you? he asked, cackling mirthlessly and cracking the whip once, twice. 'But you can't be everywhere... others will suffer for her, then!'

His arm swung, the coiling darkness that was his whip biting into his own shadow, disappearing in it, only to emerge the same moment from beneath Oriasta, throwing itself at her, wrapping around the goddess body, biting deeply into it. The tendrils forced her hands to the sides, coiled around her neck, threatening to strangle or snap any second.


Swords of Hell Right activates Slayer's anima power. He parries first and third Fury's strike and Ablates of Brass and Fire the second. Unless you are immune to Emotion effects or pay 5 WP, all attacks again him are at -1 external penalty.

Clinch attempt against Oriasta.
[roll0]

Tick #0 Fury
Tick #1
Tick #2
Tick #3
Tick #4 Oriasta
Tick #5 Punch
Tick #6 Sword of Hell Right, Fury
Tick #7
Tick #8
Tick #9
Tick #10 Punch
Tick #11
Tick #12 Swords of Hell Right



Of Kites and Flutes

Taking Vana's hand, Zsofika lifted herself from the bloodied, wrecked pavement. For a hearbeat, she met the Solar's eye, and there was a gleaming of respect in her sight. 'You understand' she seemed to wordlessly say.

She accepted the bells with a nod, tying them to a piece of string hanging from her wrist, making them into a short chain. It chimed, as before, but the tune was no longer ominous, vicious, predatory... there was a note of chains clicking, manacles being shut within their jingling now. The Kite Flute sighed, turning to Rose, forcing her face to not show emotions writhing inside.

'We shall take the road of Jacint, then' she announced. 'The Silent Wind cleared them of rabble not long ago, no one should block our path.'

Last droplets of the blood rain fell to the ground, splattering on the crimson river's surface. Where mere few moments ago, a fiefdom stood, now only darkening gore flowed, taking with its current what little remained of the street. Silence descended upon the once-dominion, disturbed only by the distant rumble of the Demon-City.

'I wanted to see your prowess' she murmured silently, gazing around at the ruin of what was hers. Her words resounded with bitterness 'that is why I brought you here, child of Danna'd. And you proved your might' she sighed again, her eyes starring deeply into her own face reflecting on the moonsilver's blade surface she gripped tightly 'Weapons of the Gods.'

She twisted the sword in her hand, breaking the reflection.

'What I wanted to ask' she said to Tewi and Vana maybe a bit less venomous, less hateful 'is something I wish I would not be forced to reveal in such... place' she obviously glanced at Rose and Isrkuam.

She sighed for the third time, and with a sharp gesture, grabbed what remained of her once terrifying mane, pulling the hair back.

'I need a knife' she hissed, as if in fury over herself.

[MrPrim]

Oriasta gasped, twisting to avoid the Infernal’s attack. Her movements were inhumanly precise, though obviously unaccustomed to real battle, but even so the attack was too quick, too precise, too brutal. At the last moment, the goddess pushed Min away from her as the shadow whip bit, wrapping around her throat and pulling tightly.

Now, perhaps choking her wasn’t the most efficient use of the Infernal’s energy, since, of course, she didn’t breath. But it was uncomfortable and terrifying, and the glittering green fire of the Infernal blazed so hot and so near. She glanced back at Min for just a moment, fighting against the terrible whip. She was no help to anyone here, not to Min, Punch, or Fury… but still, the thought of what she was about to do still made her feel ashamed.

”I’m sorry,” she said to the Exalted, as she vanished in a puff of lotus petals.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Now, if you happened to be some distance away from the fighting, on the island of the gods, and you happened to be walking down just the right avenue, you might (MIGHT) have heard sobbing coming from somewhere nearby,perhaps inside a beautiful sanctum made of glass that shimmered in the eerie green light.

But this is Hell. And such things are to be expected.

[Gargulec]

The Visits

The demon turned out to be even lighter than her lithe frame suggested her to be. She almost did not weight down in the Twilight's arms, as if she was little more than a small figment of shadows given a beautiful form.

'You're too...' she muttered, slipping her fingers around the glass of the silver liquid 'chivalrous.'

Her musk snapped out of control moments ago, and now, no long longer delicate nor subtle, the strong fragrance was almost dazing, filling minds and nostrils with visions of carnal pleasures that nothing Creation-born could ever hope to equal.

Alveua's body was almost too hot to hold still, enflammed by the chalcanth, a drink that was said to taste like a pure being to the demons. It did not seem to be a a far-fetched clam - Mar could easily feel the crazed fluttering of the Keeper of the Forge of Night's heart, as if it wanted to tear itself free from the chest - and he could see the argent glow intensifying in her eyes too.

She raised the glass to her lips, eagerly swallowing the liquor. And tough her hand seemed steady, a trickle of silver ran down from from her mouth, staining the anthracite-black dress. The demon did not notice, or did not care, despite the fabric being precious beyond imagination.

The stairway was long and steep, the black stone steps treacherous in the dim light, so Bartrand had to pay extra attention to the descent, taking it slowly, much to Alveua's liking. Her head she had rested on his shoulder, fingers still wrapped around the empty glass, a happy, though a bit unnatural smile adorning her horned face.

'Don't leave me out' she sang, in a hushed voice, gently stroking Mar's hair 'the day us bright and I'll be perished...'

The lobby was a huge, high-vaulted hall, lit only by a single lantern that inexplicably managed to only draw more shadows instead of casting light. In the middle of the pitch-black floor adorned with a mosaic of maroon tiles that formed a vaguely serpent-like shape, a mortal girl was kneeling, her forehead pressed to the cold stone.

She could not have had more than twenty years and appeared to be even younger. Scruffy, wrapped in a tunic of crudely-sewn together rags, her skin was darkened and wind-battered. Hearing footsteps, she raised her head, revealing something strange - amber eyes that seemed to glow with an inner light. Eyes of a person who would never, ever break.

'Lord Lawgiver' she spoke up, trying to appear surprised at the sight of a demon cradled in the Twilight's arms 'would you need a servant?'

[Odd_Canuck]

Calmly walking up to the Infernal, rice bowl still in hand head bowed Punch stands still once again for a moment. The world stands still. He raises his head, his eyes not the usual gentle brown but instead glowing a brilliant cobalt blue. Flatly and without emotion he declares "Bad Dog.".

A torrent of gold and blue steamers explodes forth from his skin, spinning faster and faster around him even as they spiral miles upward blinding the people who try to stare. For the few that try, they briefly see Punch clad in a golden wig and robe of blue and gold that is quickly whipped away into the general maelstrom, which now forming into shapes too numerous to count or even see.

Drawing back his right hand, Punch proceeds to repeatedly backhand the infernal across the face, even as brilliant Blue/Gold items fall from the sky, striking the infernal in time to the open handed blows.

Thwack, a book of Realm Law upside the face.

Crack, the Rules of Order of the Deliberative to the chin.

Smack, A rolled up set of plans for The Thing Infernal across the nose.

Thud, a arm-length bone to the back of the head

Bang-Bang, as Punch's golden hammer comes down upon his head.



I'm effectively Holding Action until the Infernal picks a target.

Secondary action is from the Arms of Multiple Manipulation (not currently visible)

Combat block: 4/9
Primary Action: Benevolent Giant Swing (Combo)
Activating Fists of Iron (3m) non-charm use
5-action flurry, pimp slapping.
Damage is 20A + Extra Successes Speed 3.
1: [roll0]
2: [roll1]
3: [roll2]
4: [roll3]
5: [roll4]

Secondary Action: Defend Other on Min

Soak:
Bashing:19 (22 vs CoD) Vs Piercing is 11/14
Lethal:14 (17 vs CoD) Vs Piercing is 8/11
Aggravated:13 Vs Piercing is 7

Hardness:
Bashing: 5
Lethal: 5

Essence:
Personal: 19 /19
Peripheral: 14 /27 (13 Attuned)

Willpower: 9 / 10

Health:
-0 [ ][ ][ ]
-1 [ ][ ][ ][ ]
-2 [ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ]
-4 [ ]
X [ ]

[Volthawk]

Although the Infernal escaped his barrage this time, in his rage Fury doesn't care. He has plenty more where that came from - and he displays this with another barrage of claws. When he was in this rage his tactics were very simple, as he was displaying here.

Action: Flurrying a trio of Shredder attacks on the Infernal (the last one benefiting from the situational bonus you said in AIM). Speed 4.

Burning the 5 willpower to block the Infernal's effect. Only 1 WP left :smalleek:

Attack 1: [roll0] + 1 success = 14 successes
Damage: successes+14L/5
Extra effects: Inflicts poison (5L/action, 2, –/–, -2), and also causes knockback (with the distance increased by a yard)

Attack 2: [roll1] + 1 success = 9 successes
Damage: successes+14L/5
Extra effects: Inflicts poison (5L/action, 2, –/–, -2), and also causes knockback (with the distance increased by a yard)

Attack 3: [roll2] + 1 success = 11 successes
Damage: successes+14L/5
Extra effects: Inflicts poison (5L/action, 2, –/–, -2), and also causes knockback (with the distance increased by a yard)

Combat block:
Used attacks: Silver Shredders
Speed: 4 | Acc: 21 | Damage: +14L/5 | Parry DV: 10 | Rate: 3 | Inflicts poison (5L/action, 2, –/–, -2); knockback (+1 yard to distance)

Soak: 43B/42L/20A
Hardness: 10B/10L

Motes:
Personal: 19/22 (0 committed)
Peripheral: 30/30 (16 committed)

Willpower: ●●●●● ●●

Health levels:
-0 [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]
-1 [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]
-2 [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]
-4 [ ]
X [ ]
Dying [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]

Charms active:
Gift charms:
Claws of the Silver Moon (Basic natural attack gains Speed +0, Accuracy +8, Damage +7L/5, Defence +0, Rate +0; can parry lethal attacks without a stunt; 3m committed)
Armour-Forming Technique (+15B/15L/5A soak, counts as armour; 5m committed)

Warform mutations:
Armoured Body (+4B/4L soak, +4 die to Survival rolls)
Talons (punches deal +2L damage)
Night Vision
Toxin (Silver Shredders inflict poison, (5L/action, 2, –/–, -2)
Third Eye (+1 to all Awareness rolls)
Enhanced Senses [sight] (+2 to Awareness rolls related to sight)
Tail (+2 to Athletics rolls)

Relentless Lunar Fury:
1 automatic success to all combat actions
Ignore -1 wound penalties
Physical Attribute Excellency cap is (Attribute+Essence), so 9

Impressions of Strength (activated with RLF):
Mighty Ram Practice: Targets of attacks have to check against knockback, knockback distance is increased by one yard.

Wasp Sting Blur:
All attacks have their Speed reduced by one.

[Dragnar]

Seeing the abyssal's apparent confusion of what had just happened, Jania's caution slipped a bit. She stepped forward slowly, alternately staring at first the abyssal, then the unfortunate mortal. "What... What did you just do to him?" She spoke, half to him, half to herself as her curiosity got the better of her. Whatever had just happened, it hadn't looked intentional...

[AmberVael]

Of Kites and Flutes

"Very well then. We will leave that for another time- perhaps it is best we move on to our purpose, anyway." Vana says decisively. "Yet, I have no desire to be led about furtively and amidst scorn as I was before. I will move forward as the champion and vassal of Malfeas I have been declared." This said, the Lady of the Smoldering Mantra gestures grandly, spreading her arms towards the empty street. "Make way, for I would proceed! Attend, that all will know who passes! Heed my words, for I am Vana, vassal of the suns!"

With pride and dignity, Vana begins forward as Zsofika shows the way, and it is at this point that her work becomes apparent: fiery phantoms ignite behind and before her, raising tall standards of smoke and embers, a shining green and gold mandala the emblem they display. Ephemeral streams of black and gold shadow rise up around the standard bearers, their vague light flickering in time with the rising music they emanate, the bright brass of trumpets and the deep thrumming of drums calling attention and chasing away the fear of the wind's dread passing. Thin streamers leap up about Vana and then spring forward, graceful nymphs of silver steam taking hold of them, flourishing them as they dance, keeping time with the music and pace with the standard bearers; while armored figures of black coal rise up to lead the way, each bearing a sword of flames which it brandishes magnificently, drawing attention as much as they ward away those who would get too close.

While she has no palanquin, platform, or steed, it is nonetheless impossible to miss Vana even in the midst of this. Her procession leaves a notable gap around her, a circle which makes way for two vast symbols that swirl around the lady's feet, a golden sun which rotates clockwise, and a green sun that moves opposite, while her mandala hangs behind her head like a halo. Yet, Vana does not simply walk or present herself as the origin of this strange magic.

Dancing more magnificently than the nymphs, voice raising clearly above even the trumpets, the Lady of the Smoldering Mantra claims the central stage. Caste mark burning bright on her forehead, smile shining on her face, she declares her presence to all as she makes her way to Amalion to make her request on behalf of Oasis.

Phantom Conjuring Performance- total awesomeness at the cost of a single charm.

Spending 4 peripheral motes on First Performance Excellency.

Charisma + Performance: [roll0]
(Added in Dance specialty, since she's dancing)

[DaWrecka]

Things Lost and Broken

The Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies started slightly when the jadeborn spoke. He had forgotten where he was for a moment. He looked at her, and for a moment, Oblivion itself could perhaps be seen in his eyes... But this passed quickly. He returned his gaze to the corpse before him. "I... nothing... I think..." He took a moment to reclaim his composure. "I was attempting to intimidate him into revealing what he knew, if anything, of the Solar's disappearance..." He straightened. "I am... unsure precisely what happened, but... I believe that he stared into the face of Oblivion itself in my visage. And the Void stared back. It felt... It felt as if the whispers of the Neverborn found him... abhorrent. It felt almost as if their whispers took physical form through my anima to correct what it viewed as blasphemy." He turned back to the jadeborn, and even on his stretched and warped face, despite his best efforts to hide it... Worry could be seen in his expression. "But more than this... I do not know."

[Zoronos]

The Visits

Bartrand chuckled to himself as he carried the demon down the stairs. He cooed slightly into her ear as she spilled the chalcanth, "You've stained your dress, silly one. Now I will need to summon Berengiere and have her weave you a new dress." He was pleased, in a way. He needed an excuse to summon Berengiere anyway for his other little project. This would fit in nicely. Hmmm... mortal voices, easy enough to procure. Offer them a bit of extra food from the garden, and he'd have people lining up to temporarily surrender their voices.

The demon's warm fingers through his hair distracted him. He had lost himself for a moment in designing relics, but Alveua's warm touch brought him back to the present. His expression softened and he smiled at her song. She was a demon, and that meant he had to keep his guard up, but the change in her scent and heart rate likely meant she didn't have much of a scheme that she was playing at. He smiled, and pulled her closer to himself as he carried her, letting her heat soak into him. It was like a warm bowl of soup in ones hands on a cold day. He allowed himself to savor the sensation as he carried her carefully down the stairs.

He swept into the front hallway, his boots clicking on the stone floor. He smiled at the supplicant. Excellent, someone bold enough to enter his foreboding home and request a job. Not a handout, but work. He respected that tenacity. Let us see if her heart was hard enough.

The shadows that filled the room seemed to recoil ever so slightly from around Bartrand as he spoke. It left him the one bright point in an increasingly darkened hall, like the houselights in a theater, directing the audience's attention to the actors. "A servant? No. I require no servants. However, I may require assistants, if you are strong enough. This place is not to be entered lightly, but is safe enough if you have the courage to look it in the eye. Stand up, and tell me, what skills do you have?"

[Gargulec]

Silver and Gold Span the Infernal Heaven

A pillar of emerald flame sprouted from the Infernal's arms, shooting into the dreary malfean sky, the power of his exaltations meddling with the radiance of Ligier.

Furiously, he crushed the petals that remained after Oriasta in his palm, the shadowy tendril dancing around him with a live of its own, smashing the ferocious blows of the Lunar to the side, where they did him no harm.

He remained still, only his sword-arm blurring, and truth be told, you could hardly see pass the dark barrier he formed around himself, his own outline loosing sharpness as if he was himself dissolving into blackness.

And then the shadows perished under the Solar's onslaught, the light of the Sun exploding around Punch in a bright halo that dissolved darkness and for a moment basked the Oasis in the light of lost Daystar. From miles, people were turning from their works, and gazing towards the display on the heaven, knowing that the champions were doing their battle.

Four blows his whip diverted, and they whirled past Infernal's head, not wiping the smirk off his face - but the filth, the shadows could not withstand, and for a heartbeat, it seemed that Punch was going to burn the Creature of Darkness. But the Slayer was an exalt too - and even though his darkness failed him, his prowess not. His fist met the Lawgiver's palm, brass clashed on orichalcium. One more shockwave tore through the are, sending all but the Chosen here to the ground, the ground cracking and melting unable to withstand the might of Essence around.


All attacks parried.

Tick #6 Sword of Hell Right, Fury
Tick #7
Tick #8
Tick #9
Tick #10 Punch, Fury
Tick #11
Tick #12 Swords of Hell Right
Tick #13 Punch



Things Lost and Broken

Nothing in the forge would help you find Arianna: that much was obvious. If there was anything of note there, now it belonged to someone else.

You spent some more time sifting through the wreckage, but in vain. The boy's corspe seemed to gaze at Jania's accusingly, but apart from that, nothing, truly nothing. It was a bit annoying, considering that time spent digging through junk could have been spent so much better.

Loud, heavy footsteps outside caught your attention - especially when the already loosened doors were unhinged by a massive, clawed hand.

'Ah, Essence-humans' you heard a heavy, flanging voice - coming from a huge, saurian head peeking through the threshold. 'Searching for thieving-essence-human.'

The being to which the head belonged looked really impressive: standing around nine-feet tall, a giant of a Dragon-King he was, his dark-red skin dotted with scars and tattos. One eye-socket he filled with an orichaclium eyeball, scribed with an Old Realm character for "Victor" - though it was the still-alive eye that shone real gold and wisdom of the ages. His torso he had covered in a black-and-gold plate, inscribed with a tale of thousand victories. Over the broad shoulders, he slung a massive, orichalcium daiklave, jagged and worn down as if it was as old as the Wyld itself, and on the other shoulder, the flame duck, so tiny by comparison rested, her feet swinging in the air. She appeared content with the fearsome ally she had found you.

'I help you find her' he stated, not even bothering if you would require his aid. It was obvious for him, apparently. 'So I can hit her for being a thieving-essence-human.'


The Visits

The Keeper of the Forge of the Night did not answer to kind offer of Bartrand's, instead deciding to fall asleep in his arms, still smiling. Her quiet snoring echoed strangely through the manse she raised of her own essence, somehow managing to sound ominous in spite of being quite endearing.

The mortal raised herself from the middle of the mosaic, her eyes shining as a pair of lanterns: there was something unsettling about them, as if they were able to cut through the shadows and see things for what they were: even in the heart of darkness. She gazed upon Mar, and while there was respect in her sight, no begging was to be found there - only unrelenting determination.

'I am' she said firmly, affirming her individuality - a rare trait among humans who tended to call themselves "we" 'an adept of Arts of Alchemy, Astrology and Demon Summoning. I have awakened my Essence and was taught the basics of the Five-Dragon Style. I know how to work steel and stone, and how to scribe blades with Ninety-nine Sutras of Ruin, so they stay keen. My family, I have lost to the things I could not control' she said that without flinching or changing her determined tone, as if it meant little to her 'and my workshop and tools to ordinary thugs. Thus, I search tutoring and a place to find the access to the true arts.'

[Dragnar]

Jania looked at the dragon king curiously. Thieving? Well, apparently there was yet another petty crime and annoyance to add to the twilight's list. No matter, she had promised to save the fool woman, and so she would. Help would certainly not be turned down.

"Essence-human? Heh, I'd be a bit more careful what you call people if I were you. There are plenty who would find it quite insulting... But anyway, what did she steal from you? She didn't seem the sort to rob others, as... harsh, as she might have been."

[Volthawk]

Fury continues his onslaught, barely registering the Infernal's state and Punch's attacks, only focusing on the attack and his claws, swiftening them past their current relentless speed. However, as he pushes the attack, he feels the rage fading, and the with the toll of that rage combined with the Infernal's magic, he didn't feel like it would be smart to prolong it.

No matter. I can deal with this without the rage.

Action: Flurrying a trio of Shredder attacks on the Infernal). Unfortunately, the Relentless Lunar Fury stops on the third attack (lasts for 8 actions, so my last two 3-attack flurries and two of this one), so for the third one I don't get my extra free success. However, I'll use Wasp Sting Blur with the flurry, spending 4 motes to decrease the Speed of my attacks by 2, making them all Speed 3 (even the non-RLF enhanced one that would be speed 5). So overall the flurry is Speed 3.

Attack 1: [see roll in OOC (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12161147&postcount=41)] + 1 success = 10 successes
Damage: successes+14L/5
Extra effects: Inflicts poison (5L/action, 2, –/–, -2), and also causes knockback (with the distance increased by a yard)

Attack 2: [roll0] + 1 success = 6 successes
Damage: successes+14L/5
Extra effects: Inflicts poison (5L/action, 2, –/–, -2), and also causes knockback (with the distance increased by a yard)

Attack 3: [roll1] = 6 successes
Damage: successes+14L/5
Extra effects: Inflicts poison (5L/action, 2, –/–, -2)

Combat block:
Used attacks: Silver Shredders
Speed: 5 | Acc: 21 | Damage: +14L/5 | Parry DV: 8 | Rate: 3 | Inflicts poison (5L/action, 2, –/–, -2)

Soak: 43B/42L/20A
Hardness: 10B/10L

Motes:
Personal: 15/22 (0 committed)
Peripheral: 30/30 (16 committed)

Willpower: ●●●●● ●●

Health levels:
-0 [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]
-1 [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]
-2 [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]
-4 [ ]
X [ ]
Dying [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]

Charms active:
Gift charms:
Claws of the Silver Moon (Basic natural attack gains Speed +0, Accuracy +8, Damage +7L/5, Defence +0, Rate +0; can parry lethal attacks without a stunt; 3m committed)
Armour-Forming Technique (+15B/15L/5A soak, counts as armour; 5m committed)

Warform mutations:
Armoured Body (+4B/4L soak, +4 die to Survival rolls)
Talons (punches deal +2L damage)
Night Vision
Toxin (Silver Shredders inflict poison, (5L/action, 2, –/–, -2)
Third Eye (+1 to all Awareness rolls)
Enhanced Senses [sight] (+2 to Awareness rolls related to sight)
Tail (+2 to Athletics rolls)

[DaWrecka]

Things Lost and Broken

The Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies nodded slightly after the jadeborn had spoken. The Dragon King was a surprise, but he did not find the creature intimidating - merely interesting. However, its words were a concern. Still, he chose to keep his silence on that matter for the time being. "I must agree with the jadeborn," he rasped. "I know the Solar only by reputation, for the most part, but outright theft is not a feat I have heard laid at her feet often. Of what crime, specifically, are you accusing her?"

[Gargulec]

Silver and Gold Span the Infernal Heaven

The third bonfire showered the wedding area with light - this time argent, Lunar in nature. Wisps of essence danced around in the blinding radiance, mingling and burning.

The Full Moon struck: three blows once more, his terrible claws eager to rend the Infernal asunder, but the Slayer merely coiled his whip, bringing up one more barrier of shadows to shield him - and the strikes battered off the sorcererous shield, managing only to crack it, and then, with the final attack, break.

'You should learn your masters' he snarled, stepping back, the darkness around him dancing in a wild revelry 'dog.'

He clasped his hands together, and breath green flame into them, the fire from his arms spreading through his veins, as if his own blood was flame.

And then all tendrils of his whip exploded with fire, emerald blaze that seemed to drink off light and leave only darkness behind. The grin on his face widened, and you could see his teeth growing even longer, more vicious, more jagged.

'FOOLS!' his shout thundered, shaking the very ground, and he thrust his sword-arm into the basalt beneath: a moaning face opened up to swallow the attack. 'BOW!" five faces sprouted from the ground around Fury, each of them spitting a column of the demonic fire that writhed and writhed 'BEFORE!' the pillars coiled and they were the ends of the whip, smashing themselves into the body of the Lunar, cutting through his reinforced body with terrifying ease. 'THE MIGHTY!'

A colossal anima banner, a hundred-armed metody unfurled behind him as the prongs of the shadow-whip exploded with inner fire, burning the mark of defeat into the body of the Full Moon, to forever signify him as a slave, property, thing.


All attacks by Fury are parried.

Combo!
[roll0]

Attack deals aggravated damage, deals additional 2 lethal health levels of damage on hit and saps a single point of willpower, also brands the character struck as a metaphysical property of the attacker - this is a Crippling effect.

Combat order:
Tick #10 Punch, Fury
Tick #11
Tick #12 Swords of Hell Right
Tick #13 Punch, Fury



Things Lost and Broken

'I call you essence-humans because I could squish your fleshy bodies without paying any attention to it, essence humans' the anklok stated, giving you what could pass for a grin among the dragon kings, and what looked like a threat of being eaten whole among humans. 'And you' he added, pointing a long claw at Artificer 'you dare to say that I am accusing?'

Suddenly, the daiklave blurred, moving from his shoulder through the door-framce into the floor, slicing everything on its path, embedding itself in the brass, right at the Abyssal's feet.

'What I say, is like the blade!' he roared, tearing the blade free and raising it high 'straight, strong and honest! So don't you dare to tell that I accuse, essence-carcass, for I never accuse!'

He lowered his head, so that his gold eyes were on the level of Daybreak's head.

'I say truths and truths only, for lies are a disgrace to the Sun! The thieving-essence-human stole my sword, and though I have it again, I am still to punch her for that, and I'll suffer her not dying before I can enact the retribution on her!'

[Zoronos]

The Visits

Mar spared a moment to look down at the snoring demoness in his arms, and couldn't help but smile a little. He quickly returned his gaze to the mortal before him. He weighed things in his mind for a moment before making his decision. He turned slightly, and being careful not to speak loudly near Alveua, he spoke in an imperious tone. "Marantheus," addressing the Haranhal who a few minutes previously had been knocked down these very stairs, and was even now sitting against the wall looking around at the spectacle, "Go, and tell the others that I have an assistant. She is to remain unharmed and untouched by all of the demons bound to this place, and they are to obey her unflinchingly except in those circumstances where it conflicts with my words. Prepare for her a space to work and all the things she needs to ply her craft."

Bartrand turned back to the young woman, "You make high claims for one so young, but unlike some others, I do not judge you for your age or appearance. You will be judged only on your ability, and that ability will be tested in this place. Do you understand? There are Haranhal, Metody, and Neomah bound in this place, along with a few other esoteric demons. They will obey your words, and will not harm you, as I have given them orders now, but you must be comfortable working in their midst if you are to work here."

Bartrand paused for breath, his imperious demeanor receding slightly. "Up these stairs on the left is an unused bedroom. The demons are commanded not to go in or near it, so you will be left quite undisturbed." He took a moment to note the ragged state of the young woman before continuing. "We shall also have to get you some new clothes. There are some of my robes and other spare clothing in the closet of that room. It will not fit you, but it is more than you have now, so it should do for a time. There is food in the kitchen, down the hall, if you are hungry. If you need something more elaborate, the haranhal can cook it for you."

Bartrand paused again, looking down at the slender creature still cradled in his arms, sleeping blissfully. "We shall begin in the morning. If you have knowledge of advanced cures for a hangover, please put something together. If not, no matter, I have some things I keep around. Until then, you have the evening to yourself. I need to go put someone who had a bit too much to drink to bed." He ran his fingertips lightly over the demon's arm as he held her, as if to reinforce his point. "I suppose I should ask your name as well. If you have questions, we shall address them in the morning, as I must be going."

Bartrand turned and walked softly back to his own room. He carefully laid the demoness into his bed and pulled the sheets up over her. He took a moment to draw a glass of water and placed some herbs on the nightstand near her. When crushed and put into water, the herbs would reduce headache and nasuea. However, he only knew such things worked for humans. He sighed, unsure if they would work likewise for demons. He had given them to the haranhal previously, and they had responded positively, but he wasn't sure if they'd have similar effects here. Bartrand leaned over the demon, to ensure she was sleeping comfortably, and gave her a slight kiss on the forehead. Content that Alvuea was snoring happily, Bartrand changed into his night clothes, took the spare blanket, and curled up in the overstuffed armchair he kept in his room to read. What an odd day. Productive, but quite odd.

[Odd_Canuck]

With a slight sigh and a studied glance at the rice bowl, Punch unleashes a rapid series of blows from his right hand towards the midriff of the Infernal, blue and gold sparkles trailing behind the still open handed blows. The stoic and slightly bored expression on Punch's face does little to hide the mild annoyance and disregard that he apparently feels for the battle.



Secondary action is from the Arms of Multiple Manipulation (not currently visible)

Combat block: 4/9
5-action flurry, further punching.
Damage is 10A + Extra Successes Speed 3.
1: [roll0]
2: [roll1]
3: [roll2]
4: [roll3]
5: [roll4]

Secondary Action: Defend Other on Min

Soak:
Bashing:19 (22 vs CoD) Vs Piercing is 11/14
Lethal:14 (17 vs CoD) Vs Piercing is 8/11
Aggravated:13 Vs Piercing is 7

Hardness:
Bashing: 5
Lethal: 5

Essence:
Personal: 19 /19
Peripheral: 14 /27 (13 Attuned)

Willpower: 9 / 10

Health:
-0 [ ][ ][ ]
-1 [ ][ ][ ][ ]
-2 [ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ]
-4 [ ]
X [ ]

[Volthawk]

Seeing the colossal display and the whip, for the first time in the fight Fury felt fear. As it struck, despite his efforts to defend against it, somewhere in his mind, reinforced by the attack, Fury recognised that this was someone to be wary of, to be afraid of, a real dangerous foe. Past that, he found it hard to think. The need to defend against his foes attacks on his mind, combined with his own fury, had taken it's toll.


Well, since I used Wasp Sting Blur, no PD for me. Looks like I'm going to have to take it. Relevant stats here are Parry DV 8, Aggravated soak 20A, and Willpower 0. Holding off on doing my own attack until after I know all the damage and after-effects of the attack.

Combat block:
Used attacks: Silver Shredders
Speed: 5 | Acc: 21 | Damage: +14L/5 | Parry DV: 10 | Rate: 3 | Inflicts poison (5L/action, 2, –/–, -2)

Soak:
Bashing: 40
Lethal: 39
Aggravated: 19

Hardness:
Bashing: 10
Lethal: 10
Aggravated: 0
Motes:
Personal: 15/22 (0 committed)
Peripheral: 30/30 (16 committed)

Willpower: ●●●●● ●●

Health levels:
-0 [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]
-1 [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]
-2 [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]
-4 [ ]
X [ ]
Dying [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]

Charms active:
Gift charms:
Claws of the Silver Moon (Basic natural attack gains Speed +0, Accuracy +8, Damage +7L/5, Defence +0, Rate +0; can parry lethal attacks without a stunt; 3m committed)
Armour-Forming Technique (+12B/12L/4A soak, counts as armour; 4m committed)

Warform mutations:
Armoured Body (+4B/4L soak, +4 die to Survival rolls)
Talons (punches deal +2L damage)
Night Vision
Toxin (Silver Shredders inflict poison, (5L/action, 2, –/–, -2)
Third Eye (+1 to all Awareness rolls)
Enhanced Senses [sight] (+2 to Awareness rolls related to sight)
Tail (+2 to Athletics rolls)

[Volthawk]

Although he may have taken those mental injuries, his assorted armour has meant that the actual physical injuries are not so severe. Not severe enough to stop him fight, that is. Although he may have taken so much mental scarring, to fight he didn't need much mental strength. He just needed the physical strength, that he still had. And so he used that strength, with another barrage of claws.

And although the brand burned by the Infernal keeps on burning as he attacks, Fury ignores it. Really, with his mind as it is, he doesn't particularly even pay attention to it, although it does still injure him, affecting his attacks.


Action: Flurrying a trio of Shredder attacks on the Infernal. Hopefully after that huge display and defending all our attacks, he'll be low on motes. The levels of damage I took (1 aggravated, 2 lethal) aren't enough to bring me past -0 health levels, so no wound penalties.

Right, those extra levels of damage from the brand bring me to -1, though, which would affect the second and third attacks. Rerolling in OOC.

Attack 1: [roll0] = 9 successes
Damage: successes+14L/5
Extra effects: Inflicts poison (5L/action, 2, –/–, -2)

Attack 2: [roll1] = 6 successes
Damage: successes+14L/5
Extra effects: Inflicts poison (5L/action, 2, –/–, -2), and also causes knockback (with the distance increased by a yard)

Attack 3: [roll2] = 3 successes
Damage: successes+14L/5
Extra effects: Inflicts poison (5L/action, 2, –/–, -2)

Combat block:
Used attacks: Silver Shredders
Speed: 5 | Acc: 21 | Damage: +14L/5 | Parry DV: 10 | Rate: 3 | Inflicts poison (5L/action, 2, –/–, -2)

Soak:
Bashing: 40
Lethal: 39
Aggravated: 19

Hardness:
Bashing: 10
Lethal: 10
Aggravated: 0

Motes:
Personal: 15/22 (0 committed)
Peripheral: 30/30 (16 committed)

Willpower: ●●●●● ●●

Health levels:
-0 [L] [L] [L] [L]
-1 [L] [L] [L] [L] [L] [L] [ ] [ ]
-2 [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]
-4 [ ]
X [ ]
Dying [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]

Charms active:
Gift charms:
Claws of the Silver Moon (Basic natural attack gains Speed +0, Accuracy +8, Damage +7L/5, Defence +0, Rate +0; can parry lethal attacks without a stunt; 3m committed)
Armour-Forming Technique (+12B/12L/4A soak, counts as armour; 4m committed)

Warform mutations:
Armoured Body (+4B/4L soak, +4 die to Survival rolls)
Talons (punches deal +2L damage)
Night Vision
Toxin (Silver Shredders inflict poison, (5L/action, 2, –/–, -2)
Third Eye (+1 to all Awareness rolls)
Enhanced Senses [sight] (+2 to Awareness rolls related to sight)
Tail (+2 to Athletics rolls)

[Dragnar]

Well, this lizard was certainly full of himself. Ah well, he seemed enthusiastic enough at least. Still... he wanted revenge for her stealing his weapon... and yet he had already gotten it back? Without getting his 'revenge' in the process? That didn't quite add up... but it was none of her business. And they had wasted enough time here already.

"Regardless of your physical prowess, the term is still inaccurate. But I digress... If you don't mind, I would like to be off to Port Wrath now, get this search started before she is too far gone."

[Flare]

Rose makes no emotion on her face as she holds the thick handful of hair from the Demon. Indeed, she wraps the hair around her book, leaving the Grimore wrapped in Zsofika's tough hair to protect it. Then, she smiles. She withdraws another knife, presenting it to the demon. It's hard to say where she pulled the knife from- perhaps a sleeve?-, she seemed to almost consider it a parlor trick to pull a knife from somewhere unexpected.

"...Here." she muttered, lowering her face to cover her eyes with her hair. She, at the very least, seemed ashamed of her actions, though she didn't pretend to not hold the hair. "...You can keep it." She finished. Perhaps caught up in the moment before and feeling bad about it, or perhaps lying, it was hard to tell with the Abyssal. "...I don't have...much else."

[Gargulec]

Silver and Gold Span the Infernal Heaven

The shield of shadows was splintered, the shards of darkness falling to the brass, dissolving into black tar. The Infernal cursed, but his profanities were cut short as the blows of the Lawgiver cut into his anima, dispersing the emerald light. But he was not defenceless, not yet.

Basalt met orichalcium again, layers of body the Slayer shed, his skin peeled off, flaking away and being torn and burnt mid-air by the pressure of essence unleashed by the three Exalts.

Suddenly, the grimace on his face was no longer triumphant - even though his mark was burnt into Fury's flesh, he could not longer see himself as victor. The metody behind him coiled its arms, and collapsed into itself, the pillar of green flashing once more before falling from the heavens. He still stood, he still fought, but for not much longer.

'No!' he guttered, as if trying to defy his own imminent defeat. The tips of his whip lashed once more against the Lunar, but without the sheer power that seemed to animate them before.

'NO!' he cried again, his body once more turning to brass to keep of the blows from the Full-Moon he thought to be defeated. The last embers of his anima were starting to gutter, and soon only the crossed blades on his forehead would still shine. 'I will not be defeated by such... trash!'


All attacks parried.

Singe whip attack against Fury.
[roll0]


Combat order:
Tick #10 Punch, Fury
Tick #11
Tick #12 Swords of Hell Right
Tick #13 Punch, Fury
Tick #14
Tick #15
Tick #16
Tick #17 Swords of Hell Right
Tick #18 Fury



Grimnir
Oriasta


2XP for Oriasta for finishing the previous scene


If one would close his eyes while on the Island of Our Benefactors, laying down on the soft, verdant grass and took a deep breath, drawing in the many scents of a forest, maybe, just maybe he could forget - for a precious moment - that he was in Hell still.

Even the essence here was familiar, touched by the original Gaia's elements. And even if its flows were dictated by the whims of Yozi, the power that filled them was natural to the lost home.

Great was the toil necessary to raise this place, yes. But equal to the dedication of its inhabitants: elementals and gods. When they arrived here, there was nothing but a featureless plain of basalt. Within a month, the island was dug, and blood and tears of the Water Dragon separated it from the rest of the Oasis, and the first lake was created. Within the second, trees and grass was planted on the body of Wood Dragon, and despite the lack of the sun to nurture them, the plants sprouted into the heavens, canopies of green-leafed oaks and ashes seen in under the malfean sky for the first time. And on the third month, the Fire Dragon breathed his spark into what dwelt on the island, and sanctums and shrines dotted land, forcing the essence between them to take the aspects of The Three Dragons.

Thus was the Island of Our Benefactors raised from nothingness, and thus was the survival of humankind ensured.

A single bee crossed from a flower to another, buzzing in the silence of the sanctum; for the tears of Oriasta were not a sound here, but a fact. Flowers took dark hues, grass bent without anything weighting down on it, petals of dark purple circled in the air even though nothing blossomed with the exact hue of the Violet Bier. Even the light filtered through the glass of the celling seemed to take on a sorrowful aspect.

'You should not cry' stern words broke the silence.

Now, that was a real voice, a sound of a being formed outside the Sanctum and not belonging there - yet there still. He was standing near the entrance, huge and hoary, a tattered, hooded cloak on his shoulders. Long, silver beard hanged loosely from his face, gleaming. The goddess was nearly sure that she had never seen someone like him before.


The Visits

'I carry no name, for I the ones I was given, I gave back, having no use for them' the mortal claimed, bowing. 'Call me whatever you deem fit.'

Without a further word, she followed Mar's direction, vanishing on the stairway.


***

The sleep came over quickly, despite the less-than-comfortable place. Within moments of resting on the armchair, Bartand's mind collapsed in the realms of dream - though not the meaningful one.

'Tell me that I did not do something excessively stupid' a pained, weary voice brought him back to conciousness. Feeling a bit stiff, he opened his eyes to see Alveua, pale on the face and grimacing standing a few steps from him, propped against one of the shelves. She was looking like a shadow of herself. 'Please, tell me that I did not' she repeated, sighing deeply and draining the last few sips from the mug of the cure the Twilight prepared for her, her movement slow and stifled. 'My head' she added more quietly, in a profoundly tormented tone.

Her dress was crumpled and stained, and truth be told, she presented a rather sorry sight: bags under her eyes, decoloured skin that seemed to have a greenish tint to it now, hair ruined by sweat.

'If I look as horrible as I feel...' she begun, as if realizing...

[Odd_Canuck]

*Slap* *Slap* *Slap* *Slap* *Slap*"You Dispute*. Witnessed." is calmly and almost emotionlessly stated by Punch each syllable in time to an open handed slap against the Infernal, the rice-bowl still held steady in his left hand.


*-This is a specific word with a specific meaning in Hell, meaning a disagreement over property and/or territory between two Untouchables, citizens or peers witnessed by a priest of Cecelyne and/or a Slayer caste Infernal.




Secondary action is from the Arms of Multiple Manipulation (not currently visible)

Combat block: 4/9
5-action flurry, further punching.
Damage is 10A + Extra Successes Speed 3 (just remembered this is piercing damage).
1: [roll0]
2: [roll1]
3: [roll2]
4: [roll3]
5: [roll4]

Secondary Action: Defend Other on Min

Soak:
Bashing:19 (22 vs CoD) Vs Piercing is 11/14
Lethal:14 (17 vs CoD) Vs Piercing is 8/11
Aggravated:13 Vs Piercing is 7

Hardness:
Bashing: 5
Lethal: 5

Essence:
Personal: 19 /19
Peripheral: 14 /27 (13 Attuned)

Willpower: 9 / 10

Health:
-0 [ ][ ][ ]
-1 [ ][ ][ ][ ]
-2 [ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ]
-4 [ ]
X [ ]

Edit: removed second attack, redoing on the ST's advice.

[Zoronos]

The Visits

Bartrand rubbed his eyes, and smiled as he sat up. She looked terrible, and it was amusing to no end. He rose, stretching, and went to his closet and pulled out a pair of robes. The first he wrapped around himself, to cover his night clothes.
He drew another glass of water from the tap, and slowly walked over to Alveua. He spoke very quietly as he walked, so as to not exacerbate the headache she must be feeling. "You had too much to drink, and then you almost immediately fell asleep. That's all. Nothing excessively stupid, don't worry." Stepping behind her, Bartrand carefully wrapped the fluffy cobalt-blue spare robe around her, handed her the glass of water and with a light touch indicated for her to raise her arms. "You look terrible" he whispered, as he lifted her dress off of her, out from under the robe so as to completely preserve her modesty. "But it's nothing that I can't fix. Now, drink some more water, and get a bit more sleep while I make you some breakfast and take care of this." With a soft touch, he moved the demoness back into bed and pulled the blankets back over her and the robe.

Satisfied that the demon was in bed again and drinking water, Bartrand headed for the kitchen. He wondered idly what to call his new assistant. He thought over the matter as he rapidly cooked. The food providing functions of the manse were sometimes incredible in the variety that they could produce. Normally, he restricted himself to just one or two types of food at a time, rotating so he never got bored. That said, he could definitely put a good meal together when he took a little bit of everything. He whisked around the kitchen, in his dark blue robe and tall white chef's hat, his bracers fully charged to provide appropriate tools. One of the haranhal sat glumly in the corner, so he made up a spare rasher of bacon for it. He didn't want to know how the manse generated raw bacon for him to cook, but he didn't ask, because as far as he could tell, it was authentic bacon and it was delicious. In a few minutes, he had made waffles, bacon, poached eggs, toast, and a dish full of a variety of berries; all things that should help Alveua's hangover. He had plenty of time left over to clean the Demoness' dress.

Her food laid out on a tray, he returned to his room, carrying a couple plates full of breakfast as well as a fresh carafe of water. Normally, he'd bring orange juice as well, but it was not good for someone with a hangover. It would just upset their stomach, so two glasses of water it was. He carefully placed a plate on the nightstand next to his bed, put a hand on her shoulder to awaken her, and spoke softly, "Eat. It will make you feel better."


One hour of work, enhanced with Craftsman Needs No Spatula... I mean Tools.

Edit: Rolled in OOC because the forum ate my rolls.
Craft Wood: (14d10)[2][10][7][3][2][6][10][9][10][1][3][9][1][8](81)
Craft Water: (14d10)[4][9][7][4][9][1][2][8][2][4][3][8][9][1](71)

First, Craft:Wood to repair a dress - 14d10 = 10 successes + 4 automatic = 14 successes - difficult 5 = 9 net successes (more than enough to weave a new Perfect quality resources 5 dress, let alone repair the existing one)
Second, Craft: Water to prepare a breakfast (I may have undersold the breakfast produced in the stunt, he's doing the equivalent of 3 hours worth of cooking and preparation on it.) - 14d10 = 6 successes + 4 automatic = 10 successes - difficulty 3 = 7 net successes. A higher than Perfect quality breakfast.

[Gargulec]

Things Lost and Broken

There was sand on your lips and sand in the folds of your clothing, sand getting into your eyes and sizzling in the fires of the fire duck.

There was sand everywhere.

Ceceylyne was flowing into Oasis, wind-carried dunes slipping past the border, collapsing onto the plain of brass granted to the Creation-born. Yet, as it was known, she would never really take the Dross for herself, as with any other layer that she seemed to consume with each passing moment. The Silent Wind raced on the border of Malfeas day and night, taking the desert with her, pushing it back, sometimes hundreds of miles, uncovering lost treasures and forgotten horrors. Thus, no demon would want to dwell on the border, knowing that it is only a manner of time before the peace of Adjoran falls over it.

Port Wrath did not seem to care for that, perched on the edge of sand, sprouting from both the desert and the brass in a manner of a Green-Sun Wasting induced tumour.

For all its dreaded reputation, it looked pitiful: from a distance appearing to be some sort of a weird refugee camp, with a few hundreds of tents set around erratically and without any order. No one bothered to build anything more stable than such shacks, because why would he? Any moment, the day on which it becomes necessary to move back, to give more space to the endlessly flowing-in desert could come, after all. And thus, Port Wrath was forever temporary. Only the sand-ship harbour had some semblance of permanency, but even it could be dismantled within hours.

Up close... up close it was even worse. The thick stench of liquor saturated the air around, while the delicate note of decay reminded everyone entering that perhaps, there would be no coming back.

As soon as someone got in sight of the various sentries around, he would never be truly free from predatory eyes for as long as he stayed. People with demons inside held their knives on the ready every moment. From the bigger tents, serving as illicit casinos or taverns shouts and songs were pouring onto the thin passages between shacks, and the screams of people being beaten or killed never truly left the air here. But no bodies were to be found... though it was most sensible idea not to inquire into the nature of leather or bone good sold around too closely.

The group crossed the border of the tents, already feeling the heavy gazes on their backs. There was a huge tavern-shack close, loud music was playing inside, and from the shouts, it was easy to gather that there was some sort of fight going on there: though whether it was spontaneous or not was another thing entirely.

'Hey, you' a scruffy, tall man with a pair of lackeys to his sides crossed your paths, eyeing you warily. All three of them was armed with brazen swords, but that was all that was uniform in them. 'I have not seen you before...' he narrowed his eyes 'so, what is your business here?'

He did not appear aggressive, wisely so. Given the huge Dragon-king on your side, anything to rash from his side would probably not end up well for him, and he was well aware of that.

[MrPrim]

Oriasta gasped and rose to her feet, wiping tears from her eyes. In here, in her heart’s sanctum, every teardrop that touched the ground became a flower. ”W-what…?” Oriasta coughed, and leaned a bit on her staff to steady herself.

”Who are you and what are you doing here?” she asked, in her best ‘I am a powerful being who demands respect, voice.’

[Odd_Canuck]

The very air seems to stand still for a moment, pregnant with expectation. Punch looks squarely at the Infernal, as if paying actual attention to him for the first time. "Goodwill Towards Man Smash" is spoken from his lips, the words echoed uncountable millions of times up and down the tornado of his anima and is heard miles away, deafening to those at the wedding.

With the words he throws the small bowl of rice straight up into the air, even as his anima banner violently explodes, raining down every tool imaginable even knives, spears and hammers of gold and blue.

Grabbing the head of a falling hammer, he makes a fist around the head and smashes it into the Infernal with a low growl of "You."

A spatula falls, is grabbed and driven into the Interloper with a growl of "Are."

A Chisel is backhanded to the face with the statement of "Not."

"Worthy." which is followed by a bedpan to the crotch.

"Now..." is uppercut into the face along with a sawblade.


"Die." is added as a matched set of soul-ripping clamps of gold suddenly and unexpectedly explode out of Punch's back, arc around several feet and strike The Swords of Hell Right from behind.

Punch holds out his left hand, the rice bowl lands within it. He brings it to his lips and tips a mouthful in before resuming his stance.



Secondary action is from the Arms of Multiple Manipulation
Using the combo: Goodwill Towards Man Smash

Maxed 1st MA on the attacks with the soul-ripping clamps as well as Sledgehammer Fist Punch


Combat block: 4/6
5-action flurry, further punching.
Damage is 10A + Extra Successes Speed 3 (piercing damage).
1: [roll0]
2: [roll1]
3: [roll2]
4: [roll3]
5: [roll4]

Secondary Action: Flurry of Defend Other on Min, and 2 attacks.
Damage is 20A + Extra Successes Speed 3 (piercing damage).
6: [roll5]
7: [roll6]

Soak:
Bashing:19 (22 vs CoD) Vs Piercing is 11/14
Lethal:14 (17 vs CoD) Vs Piercing is 8/11
Aggravated:13 Vs Piercing is 7

Hardness:
Bashing: 5
Lethal: 5

Essence:
Personal: 0 /19
Peripheral: 11 /27 (13 Attuned)

Willpower: 8 / 10

Health:
-0 [ ][ ][ ]
-1 [ ][ ][ ][ ]
-2 [ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ]
-4 [ ]
X [ ]

[Gargulec]

Silver and Gold Span the Infernal Heaven

There was defence, a dance of shadows distraction and knocking blows back. There was a wide grin of man who thought himself to be more than he actually was.

There was a sudden dread in his eye, a desperate parry with hands being burned by the molten gold. And then, there was blood. Warm, thick gore spilling through a gaping maw torn in an Infernal's chest, burnt pure by the light he abhorred.

The force of the blow threw him to his knees, and he stared at the wound in disbelief, not able to comprehend how that could have happened.

Amidst the torrent of silver and gold light that spanned the infernal heaven, he knelt, defeated, speechless.

New light sprouted from the cracked ground, setting the essence flows themselves ablaze with the argent glow. Punch felt a familiar hand on his shoulder, and then Min whispered into his ear.

'Thank you' she said, pushing the Solar to the side for a moment. She made a step forward, looking down upon the fallen Infernal, and then moving her eyes around.

You did not realize it in the middle of the furious combat, but the powers abused here harmed those around you more than yourself. The shards of Slayer's shadow-shield struck down many guests, their blood eagerly drank by the brass of Malfeas.

Nothing remained of the shrine or of the tables, not even splinters. But you could still feel the essence you shed, twisting and changing the dragon-lines beneath your feet. More power was unleashed here than it was safe or sound: something would change, there was no other way.

'I surrender' the Slayer managed to utter, sprouting blood from his mouth, his caste-mark guttering out.


Grimnir

'What' he let the word to hang up in the air for a moment, unmoved by Oriasta's attempts at being stern 'I am?'

He moved a step closer, allowing the hood to fall down from his head. His face, gnarled as an oak's bark missed an eye.

'Someone who knows you' he continued, his voice darkening 'even though you know of me not.'

He looked around, carefully, marvelling at the garden around. He run his fingers - thick, calloused, used to a blade, not a caress - through a bush, slowly.

'Of old was an age' he begun to intone, the words resounding within the greenhouse, even though they should not. 'when was emptiness...'

His expression changed, shifting from mild concern to a deep trance within a second, and then snapping back just as fast.

'I apologize' he murmured, bowing his head stiffly 'I tend to lose myself in memories, Blossoming One... it will come to you, too' his ancient lips twisted in a thin smile 'with a few more eternities. Regardless! You may call me Grimnir, and I am here... I am here' the words seemed to imply that this fact was his reason of invading your sanctum. Odd.

[MrPrim]

Grimnir

Oriasta stared at the old man, puzzled. She had left her senses dulled for the wedding ceremony, had turned her sight down to the bare mortal minimum in order to avoid being blinded by Venus’s radiance. But with only a minor exertion of will, once again she was seeing so much more than a mere mortal. Essence flows, mostly her own, danced in her vision.

With the true sight of a goddess, Oriasta stared at the old man. ”Is there something I can help you with?” she asked, moving to keep a large heavy table covered in flower cuttings between herself and the interloper.

Spending 6m to activate Amethyst Awareness. I've now got All-Encompassing Sorcerer's Sight and I intend to keep this Charm active all the time.

[Dragnar]

Jania shrugged to the man, glancing around the rather pathetic settlement. It looked even worse than the rest of the oasis, and that was saying something. Oh well, at least they wouldn't be here long... well, hopefully. Most of the trouble in the place would likely steer clear of them, so that wouldn't be a problem. Getting the information on the other hand might prove difficult.

"Our business? Hopefully just a few quick questions. We're looking for a Solar that came through here recently. The essence-lizard here wants to have words with her. You happen to have heard anything?"

[Sallera]

Of Kites and Flutes

Tewi gives Zsofika a short nod of understanding; it did make sense that she'd be reluctant to discuss sensitive matters in front of one who sought power over her. "Some other time, then." And then he is swept along in Vana's wake as their journey begins in earnest.

Now this almost beats just flying there. He has little skill in dancing, but he finds himself stepping lightly in perfect cadence, most of his attention devoted to watching the Solar in front of him. Grandiose, ostentatious, arrogant - all things he expected from Solars, and the performance was all of them. But... he still couldn't look away, for what so frequently seemed like posturing on others felt completely genuine from Vana. She knew this place, and it acknowledged her accordingly. That was the problem with Solars. They always made it so difficult to distrust them.

[Gargulec]

Of Kites and Flutes

Grasping the knife between her long, many-jointed fingers, Zsofika smiled - and it was not a predator's smile, nor a mirthful one: this one was an eulogy.

'The end' she called out into the void, and jerked what little remained of her hair backwards, the knife slashing surely, cutting off the last braids, slashing the sound of brass woven into them once and for all. She threw them to the side, and never looked at them again.

The blood receded, revealing the brass once more, the metal glistening eagerly, washed in gore.

Yet all eyes were caught somewhere else: Vana danced. And it was something more than a mere dance, it was the expression of the same joy that made Brass Dancer forget of his loss as the entire Demon-City swung with him, around him, within him.

Soon, the dance met with an answer from the city itself: the echoes of the footsteps rang through the streets far and wide, the Green Sun adding more and more shades and shadows to the display brought up by the Night's magic. Emerald spirits flickered into life between the nymphs of silver, music of horns and drum entwined with the trumpet sounds. All clouds Ligier's glare cleared, and the now the sky was empty and furious, reflecting the Solar glory beneath. Entire layer could feel that there something profound happening, and the carnival intensified without a suggestion, the dance and song of demons spurred to even crazier excess, more magnificent, the prayers to the Brass Victor, Malfeas Triumphant cried high!

Vana danced, and her dance brought her down what remained of Zsofika's fiefdom. She moved gracefully out the ruin, into another street, with the tall towers of iron and jet raising to her sides, the golden lights of her anima flickering on the brazen mosaics, reflecting the glories that were. And she danced further still, up the alley, with many demons around spontaneously genuflecting themselves before her radiance, with her companions following closely behind. One more alley, one more street, and she found herself moving into an army - for a column of Blood Apes steeled for war she danced into, marching towards the Kite Flute's lands from their unknown fortress.

You did not hear them before, but now, gazing from your higher ground, you could see that there were hundreds of them, gleaming with green-iron armors, all hideous heads set at you, and at Vana's dance. They carried standards of a dark hammer, now fluttering in one of the many winds of the Demon-City. What was the purpose of their march, you could not say - but a war was a common affair under the Green Sky.

And then, as if they could not stand and witness such a glory and power as the one of the Night Wolf's dance, they all bowed, the rustle of them pressing their heads to basalt pavement echoing through the street. No demon so lowly could find himself worthy of marvelling at such wonder as the dance was: so they bent.

Only one remained standing, a tall, dark man, their commander hidden amidst their rank before. A huge sword he slung across his back, and the shadow of an iron tower covered his face, so all you could see was a pair of eyes like embers.

'Lords Lawgiver' he called you, in disbelief and wonder.


3 die stunt for Vana. Regain 6m or 1wp.



The Visits

She drank thirstily, giving you the look of a person saved from a long, painful death by a sudden and unexpected benefaction of what she previously viewed only marginally better from an ant.

'My hero' she smiled, taking a small bite, raising on her elbows from the bed. She was looking a bit better now, recovering very quickly. 'You surprise me, really... I guess that you Creation-born adhere to different standards... not a really new thought, hmm?'

She glanced at her repaired dress, and smiled again.

'It is the day now, right?' she asked, looking through the window. 'Then we should have the demon I've told you about in our hands soon... my little force is on the march already... Now... give me a private moment to get myself into working order, would you kindly?'

[AmberVael]

Of Kites and Flute

As impressive as she had made the display, Vana had not truly expected this significant of a response to her performance. A part of her, the part that was the scorned child of house Cynis, had expected a lesser audience, and certainly not one that would so willingly join in her parade.

That they did was exhilarating. It was, on some level, a validation of the path that she had chosen that she had always yearned for. It spurs her to greater heights, and she gives herself completely to her work.

So, by the time the army approaches, Vana is fully caught up in the spectacle she started, and when she is called out to, she has no desire to stop... but then, another part of her says that she should never ignore her audience, or supplications.

But there is an easy, if somewhat unexpected compromise. As the commander calls out to her, she whirls towards him, moving in a circle that carries her to the edge of her parade, at which point she'll reach out and attempt to pull the demon into her dance with her, regardless of how clumsy and incapable of dancing he may be. "Speak your mind!" She says to him, grinning as she calls the procession to a halt, but not its celebration. Her standard bearers and dancers widen out into a circle, spinning with her twin sun symbols.

Seeing as her willpower is totally full, Vana will claim the motes, which puts her back up to full in that regard too.

[oramus]

On occasion, despite his aptitude in relating to other people, Isrukam finds himself at a loss as to why people act the way they do. Now was one of those times. The reactions of his companions leave him looking visibly crestfallen as he ponders what could be going through their minds; do they not realise that the lives of Creation's survivors hangs by a thread? That they will sleep safer knowing that a huntress helps protect them rather than stalks them? Isrukam shrugs to himself. No, they probably do not. It didn't matter as long as he kept the safety of Oasis in mind first and foremost, and that was exactly what he was going to do.


Isrukam follows quietly in the wake of Vana's showboating, absentmindedly singing along to the music and altering his pace to match the rhythym. Again he stops during the journey to make conversation with any demons that he recognises from previous dealings, be they official or otherwise; the importance of maintaining a presence amongst the demonic communities could not be overstated. There were many important things to know regarding the regions of Malfeas surrounding Oasis, things which other people seemed to have neglected to discover.

Questions needed to be asked carefully and of the right person. As Isrukam moves from demon to demon, he maintains his appearance of being open and friendly; an omnipresent smile, immaculate observation of local customs and unobtrusive conversation on topics that demonkind regularly speak about. These disarming qualities draw attention away from Isrukam's calculating eyes, eyes that quickly size up what each demon might know and how likely they are to say it. And woven into banal conversation about Hell's weather and other gossip are seemingly innocent questions that are in fact double agents, all part of a subtle campaign of verbal espionage waged against the unwitting demon. Each victim adds a piece to the puzzle, and soon Isrukam finds out all that he wanted to know.

It is when Enlil draws Isrukam's attention to the army that his heart skips a beat and he stops in his tracks. They were maybe a few hours from Oasis; what where they doing here? He looks on as Vana attempts to dance with the troop's leader, shocked at her apparent lack of concern, waiting to see what will happen.

Isrukam will try a Man+Soc to uncover any relevant information about the areas around Oasis.

Manip+Socialise: [roll0]
If I can use my specialty, add this: [roll1]

[Flare]

Rose grinned at the slicing of Zsofika's hair, but she did not let it fall. As it was thrown by the demon, her hands flashed out and gripped as much as she could, wrapping the strands and their bells in her clenched fists. "Do not waste...such valuable things." she chided the demon, gripping the hair and wrapping it in her fingers. "Our land is poor and in need of everything. Throwing things away does more harm then good." she explained, as they kept walking. She didn't ask for the knife back, and instead followed the group through the area, impressed with Vana's abilities to command so much. When the strange man appeared, Rose only inclined her head.

"...Swordsman." she replied, having no idea who this man was

[Volthawk]

Despite the toll on his mind, a few thoughts get through. One is that the being that fear and awe of had been skewed into his mind was here surrendering. The other was something he had been told years back, when he was a mortal: You need to deal with your fears, to stand up to them.

Fury rises and walks over to the Infernal. He then puts a claw to his throat, and rips it out.


An attack, I guess.

Attack: [roll0]
Damage: successes+14L/5
Extra effects: Inflicts poison (5L/action, 2, –/–, -2)

[Odd_Canuck]

Silver and Gold Span the Infernal Heaven

Picking up the tattered remnant of a tablecloth, one of the essence arms that so recently injured the Infernal quickly turns into a pen and scrawls a notification of duly witnessed loss in bright Azure ink and sets it in front of the Infernal.

Raising his voice, Punch calls out "Fluffy?" to the gathered crowd and after a moment an Agata separates itself and flies over looks at Punch quizzically. Indicating the paper Punch requests "Take to temple later?" With a buzzing nod from Fluffy, Punch turns the bulk of his attention to the now injured crowd.

Converting his essence arms into dispensers of genesis crafting speed sealing tape he starts to use it to stop the blood loss of the injured, starting with the mortals*.


*-because they tend to bleed to death easily.

[Gargulec]

Silver and Gold Span the Infernal Heaven

As the Full Moon approached, the Infernal wiped the blood from his mouth, grimacing. He had more insults in store, and seemed so assured of his own survival now.

'You...' he begun, but his voice was cut short, and for a moment, he knelt there, blood sprouting from his throat. He did not raise hands to cover it the gaping hole, he did not even twitch as if the pain had no access to his mind, only starring at his slayer with those eyes of him, the devils inside so hateful, so bitter. It took him a long, long moment to finally hiss his last and fall face down onto the brass. His corpse started to sizzle almost instantly, the skin sloughing up and burning, even though there was nothing that could cause that here. Soon, only the bare bones remained, inlaid with verdigrass: you had no idea how. The shadowy whip coiled around them, crushing them with a nasty, grinding sound, as if wishing to obliterate all trace of its fallen master.

'Thank you' Min uttered, her voice stifled and pained. You turned to see her kneeling by yet another corpse, with a pair of long shards of shadow sticking out her chest, dissolving in the air. She was looking at it, expressionless. Gently, she stroked the corpse's face, shutting its eyes, and standing up, slowly, as if she had to raise a great weight. 'Love' she called to Punch 'my sister needs your help.'

Her face was pale, but eyes perfectly dry. She was not moving, starring at the sun, her lips moving in a wordless prayer.


Grimnir

In the light of the essence sight, Malfeas looked magnificent: veins of viridian power crossing the sky, converging around the endlessly deep maelstrom of power that was Ligier: ambient essence dancing in the sky to the tune that only the fallen Primoridals could hear or play.

The blossoming flowers were a marvel too: the delicate flows of life in them made obvious, the strength hidden within revealed. Even the buzzing bees were splendours: wisps of gold trailing the most delicate, argent mist behind.

As for the stranger named Grimnir: he was odd, to say at the very least: his body was outlined with a thin stripe of white glow, yet inside there was nothing but blackness, as if there was no essence to him whatsoever, nothing inside. As if he was empty.

'Help me?' he asked, and his words burned as Old Realm characters in the middle of his nothingness, apparently the only thing within him that had a proper form. 'No, no, no. I can't ask for that, not of one such as you.'

A thing red line crossed his face, forming a smile on the backdrop of blackness. 'But I want to help you, to take away your tears...'

[Zoronos]

The Visits

Bartrand smiled at the demon's quick recovery. "I am glad you are feeling better. As to your question, no, the standards of the Creation-born aren't all that different from the standards of Malfeas. There are plenty of sons of Creation that would have either taken advantage or simply left, just as you'd expect from a citizen of Malfeas. Life there could be just as brutish as it is here, depending on where you look."

Bartrand moved to sit on the edge of the bed, near her knees, munching for a second on a piece of toast. "Yesterday, we spoke of god kings and tyrants, of hope and of fear. All forms of power. But the most important of those is just the same here as it is in Creation. The power to live as you choose; the power to be who you are without someone else forcing you to live according to their rules."
Bartrand stood and smiled down at the demon, still swathed in the cobalt-blue robe. "I choose to adhere to my own standards, and no others. So long as I have that choice, I have the only power that matters."

He stood and with a quick turn of his heel,he proceeded out of his room, pausing only for a moment to pull a set of clothes out of his closet for himself.

He ducked into the bathroom in the front hall to bath quickly and change, then went looking for his new apprentice. The alchemy bench of the workshop seemed most likely, so he looked for and found her there. He clasped his hands behind his back, and looked down at her. "You need a name. But as you demonstrated, there is a certain futility in my simply giving you one. So, you must choose one for yourself. Moreover, you must earn one for yourself. I want you to craft something that is truly yours. If it is good enough, then you shall have earned a name and a place in my workshop. Do you have any questions?"

[DaWrecka]

Things Lost and Broken

The Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies had been about to state the purpose of their journey when the Jadeborn pipped him at the post. With a mental shrug he closed his lips. He had no particular aversion to letting her take the lead on this. There was little he could contribute to the situation as it stood right now. Intimidating as he was, he was honest-enough with himself to admit that the enormous Dragon King at his side far outstripped him in that regard, and he doubted he would be any more useful at gathering information . The thug in front of him seemed not to be eager to start a fight... Unsurprising, but no less disappointing to the deathknight. He was not sure immediately what he could contribute to this search, but he stood to gain much.

First among such gains, he made a mental note about this place. It seemed lawless. The perfect place for him to acquire a new experimental subject. Yes, even if he failed to learn why this Solar was so important to the cause, this trip was definitely worthwhile. Perhaps it might even be worth moving his operations to this... Port Wrath... once the current situation was resolved...

Still, he could not let himself become so enamoured with future possibilities that he lost sight of the present. Affecting a bored look, he cast his gaze across the area, attempting to mentally-catalogue all of the nooks and crannies from which unexpected attack could come...

[Gargulec]

Things Lost and Broken

Thug's eyes moved from Jania to the Dragon-King and then onto Jania again, and then onto Artificer. He stepped back, sighing in irritation.

'Looking for a Solar, have a giant liz...' he begun to mutter, and that was a mistake.

The anklok moved with a reason-defying speed, clinching his clawed hand around the hapless thug's throat, and massive force jerked him from the ground, into the air.

'Do not call me a lizard' the definately not-lizard snarled, shaking the offender as if he weighted nothing 'LEST YOU'LL INVOKE MY WRATH!'

The two flunkies apparently decided that was not worth their time, disappearing between the tents without a word, and with a truly impressive speed. Their boss, however, could only dangle, his limbs swinging.

'Listen' he managed to wheeze 'I want nothing to do with you, search for your Solar as much as you would want...'

'DO I LOOK LIKE A LIZARD TO YOU?!' the magnificent roar echoed through the Port Wrath, making at least few paranoid individuals reach for their blades in fear that some sort of strange malfean monster attack. The Dragon-King glanced at Jania, raising the mortal a bit higher.

'No, of course you don't!' the sheer terror in the once-arrogant thug's voice was truly impressive. Your definitely-not-lizard companion hissed - likely some sort of laughter.

'Listen to the pathetic-human, essence human' he bellowed, tossing the traumatized man behind him. The short yelp of pain meant that he managed to avoid hitting any of the tents and instead just hit the ground. 'He got it right. Now, we shall shake this place up and see who has seen the thieving-essence-human!'

With such a bold declaration, he strode forward, directly into the large tavern-shack before you.

They noticed your entry almost immediately: it was hard to miss a huge Dragon-King with a blissfully smiling flame duck on the shoulder, flanked by a mantled zombie and a jadeborn. Port Wrath was home to all manners of oddities, but not everyday a mere tavern was invaded by such a party.

With a number of heads turned at you, the silence fell over the place. Even the fist-fight going on in the middle, by the fire stopped, with the combatants - a pair of burly man who looked so similiar that they could have been twins - ceasing their hostilities to asses whether you meant troubles.

It was not exactly crowded: a twenty patrons in various stages of drunkenness sitting on the mats and rugs on the ground, the owner who was actually in the middle of arming an oversized flame-piece and a lone neomah, wrapped in a white mantle, not paying any attention to you, just starring motionlessly at the drink in front of her.

'Here to drink?' the owner asked, raising the weapon and aiming it at the ankolk's head. His voice had a very strong southern accent 'or cause trouble?'


The Visits

For a moment, she appeared not to notice Mar peeking on her, too occupied with pestling calcified dreams into fine powder within a jade mortar. The bench before her was strewn with ripped pages covered in a web-like scribbling. Something was bubbling on a fire, and a few vials of reagents have been already filled with something that was definitely not reagents. At her feet, and open tome lied, and she was reading a formula from it while her hands automatically worked with the mortar and pestle.

'Oh, Lord' he snapped out, bowing her head, running her hand through the dream-dust to see if it was fine enough. 'I apologize, I was working on that hangover cure, but it appears that gossamer may have some negative side-effects on the demons...'

She moved the mortar from her lap, putting it somewhere without really looking, and knocking a single vial of her to the floor, where it promptly shattered, releasing a foul-smelling liquid that quickly begun to fill its vicinity with a thick smoke.

'...that is mostly it causes them to enter a deep narcotic trance' she murmured, flipping through the tome - apparently a set of astrological tables for malfean sky 'that might have been to the fact that we are working under Signus the Misfortunate, yes, but you see...' she grabbed one of the torn pages and showed it to you 'this is not the entirety of reason. If my calculations are correct, working cure on a demon hangover can be created from gossamer mixed with powdered orichalcium dissolved in a solution of frozen azoth under astrological conditions that happen once every hundredth Callibration. But it would surely work, then...'

[Zoronos]

The Visits

Bartrand put his hand to his head. Gossamer? Powdered Orichalcum? She had clearly missed some vital steps in her instruction.

Bartrand drew in a deep breath, and in a resonating voice bellowed out "STOP." His single word seemed to shake the entire laboratory. Once the chamber finished echoing from his exclamation, he sat down at the bench next to the young alchemist. He sighed, drawing breath in sharply. "I appreciate the fervor with which you pursued the task I asked of you, but the situation has already been righted. Clearly, you weren't listening to my prior statement, but we can put that off for another today. So, today, I want to relate something my father told me when I was learning at his workbench. If one pinch of firepowder will do, never use two. I realize that sounds strange, so let me explain. When using Firedust, if you use it just right, you'll get precisely the reaction you wish. If you use too much, you're likely to just blow up everything you were trying to do."

Bartrand put on a heavy glove and picked up the broken vial, throwing it into the trash bin. "What you are doing is using too much firedust for the problem. Small problems only need small solutions." Bartrand paused to examine the dishes she had produced. "Do you understand? Yes? Good. Now, that brings us to the second lesson of the day. Never underestimate the usefulness of an accident. Tell me, you created this powder that produces a deep narcotic trance in demons. How cheap is it to produce, and can it be mass produced?"

[DaWrecka]

Things Lost and Broken

Privately, the Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies allowed himself to smile at the actions of the Dragon King and the reaction of the thugs. He could almost see himself getting along with this lizard, he thought to himself as they entered the tavern.

He was not terribly-happy with the response from inside, but it hardly surprised him. "We are here to procure information," he said, before calmly drawing his daiklave and stepping in front of the Dragon King. "And if we must 'cause trouble' to achieve that goal, then we shall." He lowered the weapon slightly. "But if we can learn what we need without violence, then we shall." If there was any other meaning to his words and actions, he left it unsaid.

[MrPrim]

Grimnir

"I..," Oriasta said, blushing slightly in embarrassment, her green cheeks turning a sort of lilac color, "Thank you for your concern, but I will be alright. I...." she paused for a moment, not sure what to reveal to this strange man, and then, with a shrug... decided to just go for it.

"I was ashamed," Oriasta muttered, "And afraid. An Exalt tried to destroy me, and I only barely managed to escape. He's probably still back there killing other people...."

[Odd_Canuck]

Silver and Gold Span the Infernal Heaven

"Living first." Punch offers as he starts taping people up quickly to prevent any other deaths. Periodically grunting and pointing while looking pointedly at the able-bodied guests quickly results in the injured being taped up, stabilized and transported. Maybe it's the glowing cobalt eyes, the fact that his armor creaks and groans with stress as his muscles continue to bulge and flex, or the fact that he looks at anyone that complains about doing work with an expression of impending death that motivates them, they are all motivated just the same.

The injured cared for, Punch quickly directs the remaining gods, exalted and mortals to pile the remaining debris into three piles, some distance apart. Dismissing the remains of The Swords of Hell Right with a brief surge of pure essence, he gathers up the whip and hands it to Min with a statement of "Remember.". Pausing for a moment he gives her a quick hug before continuing.

Gently placing the three bodies upon the three pyres, Punch stands before the first with arms upraised. "Remember" is whispered as the body and pyre are lit on fire with essence, bringing the spirit to it's destination. The second body is likewise lit with the offering of "Remember".

Standing before Min's sister, Punch bows his head for a moment. He motions for the crowd to move back from such. Crouching down for a moment, the observant see a small drop of moisture hit the ground at his feet, maybe it was merely a drop of sweat from his brow... maybe. He leaps straight into the air... twenty feet straight up. The essence arms coming out of his back once again shift form to some sort of yeddim-sized tools. They hit the ground before he does, surrounding the pyre. The earth quakes violently, shaking many guests to the ground as the pyre and the ground around it explode upward and explode into a fireball. The guests see a giant wall of fire flare up and out to the heavens. Those further away see the giant green and blue form of a firebird flare upward into the sky. The observant see the firebird form has a small human figure where it's heart should be, one that is burned away with brilliant gold flames as it flies to the heavens and disperses.

Turning back to the crowd, Punch nods slowly and starts walking towards the city.


Using Craftsman needs no tools (7m, 1wp) to speed the action of using explosive fracking tools from the arms of multiple manipulation to make a large pit and render the material freed into an aerosolized form, which is then lit on fire for a proper funeral.

[Gargulec]

The Visits

The girl swallowed, and nodded, closing the tome on her lap and dropping it to the ground again.

'That... that makes sense' she admitted, looking with a faint bit of sorrow on the long line of the byproducts of her experimentation. She took a long sip from an elaborate, exceptionally silver-and-jet cup she had on the bench... and Mar was quite sure he never had something like that in his drawers. 'I apologize for the wasted resources, Lord'

Her eyes were set at the cup, at the intricate scene carved into it. From where he was standing, Mar could see only parts of it, and it did not make any sense - there was combat and love, and it was just... off. As if the entire scene was made of thousands of tiny fragments that just did not fit itself.

'As for the powder...' she snapped out quickly 'now, it is not hard to render, I just need gossamer, copper and a vitriol treated mortar, as this one' she made a gesture towards the tool 'I can produce it quickly, but I am unsure on the exact effects... if I had the demons to test it on, though...'

'Is that all you are here for' sharp voice cut her mid-sentence, and clicking of heel heralded the arrival of the Keeper of the Forge of Night. She was clad in her dress again, looking as immaculate as before that... unfortunate events of the last night. Only her eyes were narrowed, set at your assistant, her hands set widely apart, shadows converging between them, hundreds of obsidian butterflies batting their razor-sharp wings against the demon's grasp, ready to be released 'Wandering Eye?'

The Cup girl held in her hands flickered out of existence in a hearbeat, her face darkened as she jumped back, dropping into an elegant stance, pair of long, curved knives appearing in her hands from nowhere, gleaming with all the hues of Wyld in the darkness.

'How know you?' she asked, and no longer was absent-mindness reflected in her voice, now it was sharp and honed, as the keen edges of her blades.


Grimnir

The smile faded from the blackness, after-image persisting for a few moments.

'Weakness is something we can defeat' he said, the voice growing deep. 'I can show you how... but that will cost you.'

Oriasta felt as his hand - cold in touch, as gnarled as his face - reached towards her, open palmed, inviting.

'I can show you how' he stated again, with a profound pressure put on each word 'take my hand... and just remember the things you can lose. This is not a high price, but a price nonetheless. Your innocence... your grace... your blissful ignorance you may need to surrender.'

[Zoronos]

The Visits

Bartrand took a stumbling half-step backwards. What was going on here? Clearly, Alveua and this assistant had some history. Sure, he had reason to suspect some chicanery, since it was so incredibly odd for one so young to be so accomplished without being an exalt, but the hostility set him aback for a moment.

Thankfully, it was only for a moment. Bartrand took another step back, so as to be fully out of the line of fire between the two women. With one hand, he drew the crossbow which he kept slung across his back. The other hand made a single arcane gesture; the Mudra of Stabilization. A silent thunderclap filled the room and the very air seemed to flex and strain for an instant as a wave of golden light sloughed off of Bartrand. His eyes glowed with the Gold and Cobalt of his anima as his Will asserted its dominance over the fabric of reality.

His voice seemed to reverberate throughout the room as he spoke. "Before you two ladies try to tear each other apart, would you be so kind as to explain WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE GODS IS GOING ON? Why is a war about to break out in my workshop?"

Bartrand swung the crossbow up, but did not to point it at either of the women, though if you had to split hairs over it, it was more aimed towards the assistant than towards Alveua.


Activating Chaos Repelling Pattern while the two women face off. Bartrand is staying just close enough so that the assistant is inside the zone of anti-shaping.

Personal: 22/22
Peripheral: 33 / 41 (+6 committed)
WP: 10/10

[Dragnar]

Jania hung back from the dragon king, standing against the back wall of the tavern to see what sort of reactions his rather blunt methods got. If things went well, great. If not, she would be out of the danger zone when things went south, and could try something more diplomatic. This lizard was going to be more trouble than he was worth, she could tell already...

[Gargulec]

Silver and Gold Span the Infernal Heaven

'Grand' the young Lunar whispered, coiling the shadowy tendril around her arm, allowing its serrated edges to cut into her skin, draw her blood. She did not concern herself with the warm trickle caused, the pyre-flame blazing in the reflection of her eyes. She was standing closer to the fire that she should have had, tremandous heat making her silver robe shrivel and come asunder, singing her, burning her hair and brow, but but not causing any real harm nor injury.

As the pyre with her sister's body was about to ignite, she made a quick step forward, and then the flame shrouded her, the outline of her body clearly cut against the backdrop of the inferno: she should be ablaze, but she was just standing there, her caste mark inexplicably more bright and brilliant than the fire of the malfaen brass.

She was standing there, in the middle of the pillar that shot high into the sky, the flame within mingling with the flame without, forging her, somehow. The shadow of the whip dripped, melted in the heat, and she called it to herself again, the argent glow binding it to her body, mixing it with her sister's ashes, as a reminder for the days to come.

The fireball burnt out, the flames died, and she stood there, unharmed, her robe shining with purified silver, her tattoos, only faint lines before now flashed and clear for all too see. And there was the shadow, too, wrought to her arms, bound as a second spiral of black twined with silver, struggling to find a release from the trap within the Lunar's body, but never finding it.

'Grand' she called again, stepping to Punch and wrapping an arm around him, reluctantly, as if she herself could not decide whether cling to emotions or shed them entirely. 'Let us go, love. The wedding is over.'


Scene ends. 8XP for Punch and Fury. You also receive a bit of downtime to describe your actions and such, just enough to make a single XP purchase.



The Visits

'Oh, I know her' Alveua growled, the spell being prepared growing even more unstable in her nimble hands. Soon, she would have to release it.

'Oh, I know of her, too' the assitant smirked, crossing the knives before her, spitting on the pattern that muffled the shaping magic, as if to defy it.

'She came here, few hundreds years ago, looking the same she looks today' the demon begun, circling through the workshop 'seeking ingredients... and she crossed my path, so to' her voice lowered to a nasty sneer 'speak.'

'You just feel bad about having to beg' the assistant, whatever she was laughed back at her 'to a mere mortal to spare your laughable life, don't you? That must have been' it was her turn to smirk now 'disgracing.'

'Don't call yourself a mortal' Alveua snapped back at her immediately, breathing heavily and taking on a relaxed demeanour again 'and assume so much. You have not won then, you were not even close.'

'I happen to be a better liar than you are' the so-called Wandering Eye laughed earnestly at the attempt to dismiss her 'deceive yourself as much as it pleases you, demon.'

'One more word' the Keeper of the Forge of Night raised her clasped hands, the butterflies trapped inside blurring, so fast were their movements 'and I will make you pay' she stated very calmly, her words clearly indicating that she was not bluffing, not in a slightest.

'Try' the Wandering Eye chuckled, raising the knives in a parody of a salute.

The demon did not hesitate, not even for a heartbeat. Her hands opened, and a buzzing of wings momentarily filled the air, thousands of obsidian butterflies surging forth to obliterate the impudent girl.

But she only laughed, throwing the blades to the ground and spreading her arms wide open, azure light shimmering between them, shifting to a characteristic emerald hue and showering the workshop with radiance. The spell shattered, obsidian turned into sparks, the delicate alchemy implements ringing without a touch, the floor itself seemingly bursting into cold flame.

And then, as soon as it had begun, it ended, and the Wandering Eye panted heavily, Alveua staring at her with eyes wide open in shock, now knowing what to say.

[MrPrim]

Oriasta shrank back away from that extended blackness, that cold horrible hand reaching for her. She didn’t want to be afraid, she didn’t want to be weak… weakness was death in Hell. But she didn’t trust this person, didn’t trust outstretched hand, didn’t trust his strange words.

And if she gave up her grace, what would she even be?

”I think you should go,” she stated firmly, touching the table full of flowers and feeling the power of her estate running through her, ”I don’t know who you are, or why you’re here… but I really think you should go.”

[Zoronos]

The Visits

Bartrand could feel it even as it happened. The flows of essence strained at the edges of his awareness as they built themselves in preparation for the countermagic. The handiwork of the Primordials, writ upon the fabric of existence, spell shattering against spell. He wasted no time, for there was only an instant to spare.

As the spells collided and warped each other out of existence, he dashed between the two women. He placed a foot across the two knives that had fallen clattering to the ground in the moment that Wandering Eye had cast her countermagic. With one hand, he raised his crossbow to point at Wandering Eye's chest, and with the other, he raised an open hand toward Alveua in the universal 'stop' gesture. His words rang throughout the workshop once again, the tables clattering as his voice resonated throughout the chamber, "STOP. NOW." His voice rose greatly in volume, to carry throughout the entire manse,"MY MINIONS, COME, NOW. ALL PROTECTIONS FOR GUESTS ARE REVOKED, IF THEY ARE ENGAGED IN BATTLE."

He looked back and forth between the two women. "Both of you, enough. I will not have a war in my workshop, from either of you. The past is gone, and I do not have any concern for it. In a few moments, a large number of demons will be in this room, and will be quite happy to attack whomsoever decides to violate the peace. Now, we're going to be nice and calm, and talk about what is going on here."

He looked back and forth once more, checking if the two were about to come to blows once more. Speaking much softer, in a kind voice, Bartrand addressed the demoness at his back, "Alveua, I was carrying you asleep in my arms when Wandering Eye arrived. Had she wanted to kill you, she would have done so then, or while we both slept. I think a temporary cessation of hostilities is in order."

[Gargulec]

Things Lost and Broken

'Information' the grumbled, not lowering the weapon 'Now, do I look like a Ceci-dammed information broker to you?'

He spat on the sandy ground. The patrons, meanwhile, begun to subtly (or not really, in fact - being drunk seldom helps with finesse) moving towards the nearest exit... only to find it completely barred by anklok's wide chest.

'And yes, I know, you're going to kill me now for not being helpful, right?' he sighed gloomily 'that's how your kind rolls... screw this, at least I'll see my darling again.'

'You worry, brave-human!' to your endless surprise, the Dragon-Kings booming voice was full of respect 'You are brave to stand against us, armed! You have a spine... you would make a good sacrifice to the Sun! But now, we need an information on a thieving-essence-human who was here, recently!'

The man, apparently contented with the fact that the giant saurian deemed him a good sacrifice material lowered the flame-piece slightly.

'Thieving essence human?' he repeated, not understanding 'Your kind can steal essence now?'

[DaWrecka]

Things Lost and Broken
The Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies lowered Armoursmith's Despair just slightly. "What my saurian companion means is, we are seeking a Solar, a Twilight to be more precise, who apparently stole something valuable from him. She is... rather abrasive. I doubt she has earned herself many friends here. Her name is Arianna. What do you know of her passage?"

[Sallera]

Of Kites and Flutes

"Well, I'm no Lawgiver," replies Tewi, chuckling as Vana pulls the man into her dance, "but greetings all the same. Quite the force you've drawn up here." He snaps his fingers, generating a ringing fourth and a small spray of water droplets, as if in demonstration of his nature.

Of course, such small acts of showmanship aren't something he usually indulges in, but gazing at the demon through the fleeting cloud of fine drops provides much more insight than watching his army, and more trusted information than could be gained from his words. The brief gleam of a reflected image for the commander, a whorl of vapour drifting toward the factotum, an improbable series of refractions revealing the confidant, the momentary presence of the shape of the employer's face... it takes only a short attunement to his element to process the subtle information contained in the man's bearing, mien, and presence. This army was in their way, and although Vana's dance seemed to be handily dealing with that, he was still curious about what it was up to. Knowing whose fighting forces were headed where had the potential to make him a lot of money or save him a lot of trouble back in Creation, and he rather suspected that the latter, at least, held true here.

Revelation of Associates Hunch, targeting the army's commander.

Perception + Investigation: [roll0]

Personal: 8/11
Peripheral: 9/25
Willpower: 7/8

[Gargulec]

Of Kites and Flutes

The black swordsman bowed stiffly, raising a mailed fist so that his demons would rise, too - though they did so only with a great reluctance, still starring at Vana's breath-taking show. What they did miss - and the Night Caste only barely managed to notice - was the fact that Zsofika herself joined the dance, melding in, attuned to the beat so that no one would notice her unless he paid a special attention to the dancing extras - and who does, after all?

The street emptied, meanwhile, with common serfs and citizens disappearing silently into the side-alleys, the only sound coming from them being muffled footsteps and muffled prayers so that they would not catch attention on their flight between an army of blood apes and Lawgivers. Windows above your heads were shut, and a clear sound of a chains and bars being put into place accompanied those who dwelt in this street as they were locking themselves inside, out of swords and claws' reach.

'Lords Lawgiver and you' he offered a bit shorter bow to Tewi 'citizen. It is a most graceful of you to reward me with your noble presence...'

He was moving his eyes from you to his arm to the pommel of his sword, unsure on what to do - and unaware that Tewi already knew him: a favoured servant of Alveua, the Keeper of the Forge of Night, a member of the Inauspicious Eight, a circle of one the Hell's most talented sell-swords - his seven companions being named Flying Snow, Long Sky, Broken Sword, Gentle Wind, Splintered Shield, Endless Road and Forgotten Dust.

Isrukam's attempts, though, failed him, yielding no information that could be considered useful - maybe the demons were ordered not to reveal anything to strangers, maybe they were too terrified of the Solar to speak easily with him... and maybe, just maybe, those Erymathoi had been just too dumb.

'...but I must be on my way, for I am leading my forces to war' he said that in a tone that clearly indicated that he was not especially thrilled by the idea. 'Between Yozis and me, I'll reveal to you that I am to conquer the domain of the cursed hunter known as the Kite Flute, and bring her to my master to do with her as she pleases.'

The dancing demon in question did not miss a step, blurring amidst the standard bearers and dancers, just one of the crowd, just an extra...


Tewi: 2 die stunt that succeeds. 4m or 1wp.



The Visits

'I am not expecting her to try to kill me' Alveua raised her arms in an universal gesture of abolishing any sort of intent to harm. 'I am, however, inclined to pay back in kind for the last time.'

The Wandering Eye did not deliver a cutting remark this time, panting heavily, eerie lights flickering on and off around her palms. The knives on the the floor flashed brightly and disappeared back into Elsewhere - apparently, the mysterious girl wanted to abstain from hostilites too - in no small part thanks to a Fervid Smith kicking down the door, carrying a hell-wand in his twisted hands, green smoke rising from the barrel being clear indication that this thing was about to go off any moment now. Whether it could cause any harm to any of the combatants was another matter entirely, but certainly it helped to calm people down.

'Okay' she finally muttered, grabbing herself a chair and sitting heavily on it, her arms dangling freely to her sides. 'You hold grudges for awfully long time, demon...'

'Bartrand' Alveua ignored her remark ostentatiously, turning her back on the fae. 'If you want to keep her as a toy, I'd advise caution, she bites... so just handle her to me, I need some flesh to forge.'

The Wandering Eye laughed loudly again.


Grimnir

He nodded, solemnly, as if understanding.

'One day' he mused, plucking a single blue rose 'there will come a day when you will have to pay for this. One day, what remains shall come asunder because of our own weakness. As is has already happened before, and as it will happen again.'

The essence outline of his shadow begun to wring itself free, motes shattering the bonds that held them. To eyes open to the material, it would appear as if he was slowly dissolving into white vapour that lasted for a moment within the sanctum's air before disappearing completely.

'Banish me, then' he continued, his voice growing faint and husky 'and I'll be vanished. But I can not be gone. We shall see...'

And then, in a puff of smoke, he was there no more, though his final words echoed still, ringing in Oriasta's ear as only truth could.

'another radiant day.'

The plucked rose fell to the ground, rooting itself under the strain of the goddess power.

[Zoronos]

The Visits

Bartrand sighed. Clearly, this wasn't going to be simple. He stepped back, so that he was next to Alveua, and put a soft hand on her arm. He spoke quietly to the demon, "Alveua, can you tell me what happened? I'd understand a lot better if you explained. It's me, you don't have to worry." He gave his best disarming smile, "I've already seen you drunk and disheveled today, I'm not going to think any worse of you, no matter what happened. Please, explain what is going on here." Bartrand turned, and gave his most imperious glare at The Wandering Eye. His meaning was clear; no interruptions would be tolerated.

[AmberVael]

Of Kites and Flutes

"I am afraid then, good sir, I must bring you unfortunate tidings." Replies Vana, with an expert show of sadness, bringing her dance to a momentary halt, kneeling before the commander, and placing a hand over her heart. "As we traveled to our own destination, we passed through Zsofika's fiefdom, but it is now no more."

"It seems your path has already been traveled by another, and you must return to Alveua empty handed." Vana extrapolates. "While it pains me to send such a message to your master, I advise her to make the best of it. Such was the destruction of that place, I believe pursuing the Kite Flute further might deal a grievous blow to her ultimate cause of harmony. Truly, any retaliation would likely be grave."

The lady smiles beatifically as she swirls back to her feet. "But should she desire my commiseration, or my ear, I would be quite willing to grant the illustrious keeper some of my time. One can often forge harmony even from the most trying of situations, after all, even if it is not quite the way one might expect."

"For now though, we should go our separate ways. I must continue my journey to Amalion, and I am sure your master would want my message carried to her swiftly." With this, Vana will bow gracefully, and then begin her dance once more, attempting to direct her procession through the army, either sliding between its ranks, or perhaps getting the army caught up in her performance and dragging a portion of it along with her.

[Flare]

Rose just sits quietly, having nothing really to do here. She settles for tapping the cover of her book some more in time with the music, waiting for this to be finished. Zsofika was clearly there dancing, so obviously if the man didn't want to see her, there was no reason for her to tell him they were there. So she waited, moving on when told to and otherwise not. She hummed a tune.

[MrPrim]

Grimnir


Oriasta waited until she was sure the interloper was gone, before her shoulders sagged, and the tension went out of her.

Oriasta sighed and sagged against a glittering glass wall. ”I hate this place,” she said to herself, pulling at the roots of her hair in frustration, confusion, and, above all, fear. ”I HATE IT!” she screamed, swinging her staff and smashing an (empty) pot.

Oriasta felt something pulling at the hem of her (now quite ruined) dress. A little creature, shaped quite a bit like a woodchuck but with hairless green skin, a large flower growing on its back, and huge expressive eyes stared up at her, making a concerned sort of cooing noise. Oriasta smiled despite herself and reached down to pet the little wood elemental, ”Well, at least I still have you, Chewy,” she said, poking the creature on the nose. Chewy cooed wildly and she lifted him up and began carrying him with her as she moved through the sanctum – checking to make sure her intruder hadn’t messed with anything.

[Volthawk]

Now that the fight is over, Fury focuses on himself. He'd taken a beating from that tentacle both physically and mentally during that fight, and he needed to recover. However, before that he had one last issue to sort out. That god the Infernal threatened...he felt he had to make sure she was all right. With that decided, Fury trudges over to the island of the gods.

[Gargulec]

The Visits

'Fine' the demon uttered slowly, taking a deep breath to relax, propping herself against a wall, arms crossed on her chest. 'This... abomination fled my anvil, few ages past... around the time your precious Creation almost, but not completely collapsed.'

A fervid smith - another one than the hellwand one - dutifully fetched Alveua a plate with a jug of szrenian wine. She reached for it, then with the corner of her eye noticed the amused smirk on the Wandering Eye's face, frowned and set the demon on his way.

'She was different back then, less ironic... grim and gloomy, so tastefully shadowy, with such a delightful darkness coiled around her' she muttered, putting a finger to her lip. 'She piqued my interest, so I've sent my minions to retrieve her so that I could shape her into something more fitting for the world we are raising from the ashes of fallen glory and which you, Bartrand' there was a sudden change in the pitch of her voice, not even a subtle one: a strange fire burning within her words as she spoke of forging the world asunder into the patter of Yozis' liking.

'And I decided that being put on an anvil and hammered into a blasted soulsteel parody' the Wandering Eye cut in, fiddling with a simple wooden ring she drew out of nowhere 'was something I'd rather avoid.'

'Silent, wretch' the demon hissed, annoyed 'you live still solely because I'd rather avoid having to force Bartrand to have his workshop cleaned of the bloody smear you would become.'

The strange fae-girl shrugged in response, resting her head on a shoulder as if she was about to take a nap.

'But yes, that wretch was mostly accurate' the passion contained in Alveua's words gave space to a bitter grudge now 'they brought her before me, and as I prepared to work my art on her body and spirit, she drew those gossamer knives out of thin air, thrust them in my back before I could have destroyed her, and then, into my face, as I lied stunned, she cast a Death of the Obsidian Butterflies. And then just fled, as if she could defy me and disappear into the night as if nothing had happened. I just want to return the deed, with all due interest.'

She sighed heavily, as if retelling the story made her sick. Her eyes were glistening with an intent to kill, and it was obvious that she was not going to let it go easily.


Things Lost and Broken

The gloom still apparent in his voice, the owner rolled his eyes towards the ceiling of the tent.

'You picked a wrong tavern to ask around, then, sorry' he said, lowering the flame-piece a bit more 'We do not dare to inquire in the matters of them Solars. Tend to get people killed, you know' the irony in his voice was so heavy that one could probably gather it into a jar. 'So, I'll serve you a round on the house, and you shall be on your way? Please?' he asked, looking at you with resignation.

'Your drinks lack the strength a warrior like me seeks!' the anklok, apparently experiencing an urge to say anything bellowed, but he did not question the lack of information found here. 'They are as a weak as your clay-like flesh!'

'But can I have one?' the elemental asked silently, raising her hand. 'Pretty please? You serve kasiri, right?'

The flame duck's humble plea miraculously diffused the situation - for the bartender first exploded into laughter, dropped the flame-piece behind a counter, and fetched a bottle of some dark beverage, throwing a remark in flame-tongue that made Arianna's servant smile coyly and - you could swear, even though her skin was jet black - blush slightly.


Grimnir

The little critter quickly decided that he likes to be carried around, and wrapping his body around her slender wrist, clinching tightly and with a cute, wheezing sound falling to sleep, its little heart beating so slowly.

Barring the single plucked rose, the stranger left no trail of his passage: no bent blade of grass, no footprin in the mood, no disturbed bush; as if he was an incorporeal being it would appear. The garden returned to perfect tranquillity, in spite of the fires raging and dancing on the sky.

Somewhere, not so far from here, an Exalts waged war upon each other, and the heavens itself shook with their might. The pyres were alight: emerald, silver and golden... but the emerald was waning, dying.

It would appear that the Infernal found no luck in his pursuits.

Gentle tapping on the sanctum door called the goddess' attention.

A fellow god, Twice-Praised Keeper of the Sanctity, a former god of some nondescript park in Yu-Shan advanced to the noble position of the god of Island of Our Benefactors, most likely to spite the remaining celestial deities stood in the doorway.

He was a short, always smiling man, clad in a viridian robes, bald and wrinkled, as if he was very old - and truth be told, he remembered times from before the Primordial War.

'Oriasta!' he bowed 'Pleasure to see you! Was the wedding over that quickly? Hah, those Exalts, so hasty in all their endeavours...'

He had a pleasant voice to match his elderly mien, a voice of a good, old uncle.

[Zoronos]

The Visits

Bartrand nodded as Alveua finished her story. He paused slightly at her glare, then went to one of his workbenches, pulled a cloth from his pocket, and soaked it in the pail of cold water. He wrung it out, then returned it to Alveua. With a free hand he put it to her forehead, and waited a moment for her to put up her hand up to hold it there. He whispered quietly, "This will help the headache a bit; I realize it probably still hurts." Bartrand paused for a moment, searching the demoness' face for any softening of expression. "I know it is hard to let go of pain and betrayal, but I'd like you to give me a chance. Please." Bartrand put his hand momentarily on her arm in a gesture of sympathy, before turning back towards the fae girl.

Bartrand walked back to his workbench, and took a chair next to where Wandering Eye was sitting. "All right, now lets hear your side of things. And while we're at it, you already knew about that very interesting demon narcotic, didn't you? What actually brought you to my workshop, and what kind of plans did you have for the narcotic? I can think of a few good uses for such a substance off the top of my head, but I'd like to know what you planned on doing it with." Bartrand's voice was friendly and sympathetic, but there was a very slight hard edge to it. That he didn't intend to settle for less than the truth was obvious.

[MrPrim]

Grimnir


”Oh! Keeper! Hi there!” Oriasta said, her voice full of relief that the door didn’t open onto a) an Infernal B) a spooky old man or c) a the Mouth of Oblivion itself. The little wood-beast in her arms made an adorable little growling noise and barked slightly. ”Come in, please.”

She motioned for the other god to enter her Sanctum. ”The wedding ended quite abruptly,” she responded, ”There was an attack. One of the Yozi Exalts showed up and tried to have his way with the bride. It was… terrifying. He tried to grab me so I popped back here.” She motioned towards the sky, ”If those lights are any judge, it looks like Punch (the groom, the Solar who talks funny), and a Lunar, seem to have handled the situation.”

”Then, when I got here, a weird man tried to proposition me for something vague and menacing… then he vanished… then you showed up. It’s been a busy hour.” Chewy barked in agreement. ”See?”

[Sallera]

Of Kites and Flutes

Tewi returns the swordsman's bow, lingering behind a moment with an apologetic half-smile as Vana moves on. "Well, it is as the Lady says. It seems the Keeper was not the only one with such intentions today. It is said you are high in her favour, and the reputation of your circle precedes you, but there is nothing left to conquer in that fiefdom but blood and dust."

"At any rate, we shouldn't be late for our own appointment, so fare you well." With that, he hurries to avoid falling off the tail end of the procession, something that could be rather unfortunate with an army in their path.

[oramus]

Isrukam lingers by the swordsman as his companions move away, the music becoming quieter as it faded into the distance. The man looks questioningly at Isrukam, and Isrukam stares back for a moment before speaking.

"Do you recognise me, commander of legions?" the Eclipse inquires quietly, with the slightest edge of authoritative menace to his tone. "Do you know who I am, and my affiliation with your masters?"

The absence of Vana's performance has left the area seeming strangely quiet, and Isrukam's words seem to silence it further; the assembled spectators that were moments ago dancing and singing begin to scatter, making warding gestures against the Silent Wind.

"I ask you this because I must remain informed as to military activity in the vicinity of the Barony. As a military man yourself I'm sure you similarly appreciate the importance of vigilance."

"So, with these facts in mind, I ask you - what does your mistress want with Zsofika?"

The question hangs ominously in the air and the silence intensifies as Isrukam waits for the swordsman's answer.


Isrukam isn't trying to blatantly pull rank on the commander with this, but he is trying to make sure the guy knows that he's not some random Exalt fishing for information. Status 2 should back this up at least a little; Isrukam can embellish the rest. He's also trying to play to the man's experience as a commander with the vigilance thing. Maybe it'll exploit an Intimacy or something, who knows.

I'm gonna go nuts and use Irresistable Salesman Spirit on this which doubles successes before applying them to an MDV.

[roll0]

[Gargulec]

Of Kites and Flutes

Hundreds of eyes were tracing Vana's ever slightest gesture and movement, the armed blood apes unable to gaze down from the perfection of motion that even Ligier himself acknowledged. Only the black swordsman managed to keep his wits about him, not giving his mind to the dance wholesale.

'The fiefdom, destroyed?' he asked, closing his eyes to concentrate, hand grasping the pommel of his blade as if he was not realizing the insult inherent in such gesture. 'Blood and dust? Zsofika escaped? This... cannot be! Acolyte!' he called, and the blood ape just next to him, adorned with a hourglass pendant of Cecelyne grunted.

'No wars were reported, no claims of territory observed by us' he stated, his speech strangely fluent as for the creature he was, almost jarring when looking at his apish stature. 'Whatever happened, if the vassals of the Green Sun are to be believed, occurred without proper rites being observed. That is unacceptable! Cecelyne must observe all!'

'What the acolyte said' slowly, as if unsure whether this was really a good way to try to resolve this situation, he put the second hand on the pommel, and with a grinding sound, drew the blade. It was an enormous sword of black iron, chipped at edges, more a slab of steel than an actual weapon. The strength of the swordsman had to be truly remarkable for him to wield such a weapon. It could most likely kill a tyrant-lizard with one blow. 'What is your game, Bringer of the Green Dawn? Were you the ones who destroyed the fiefdom?'

He sighed, noticing that his army was still too deeply entranced by the Iron Wolf's dance to hear his orders. There was a calling in that display, something that creatures born of Malfeas' own essence could deny or resist. A few metody seeped through the cracks of the walls, from their secret pools only to gaze at the dance, to feel the beat.

'My mistress sent me to retrieve Zsofika for her own agenda' he admitted, looking straight at the Crowned Sun, the words of the Lawgiver laced with subtle essence that made him answer despite himself 'I do not question her actions, I am merely a tool for her to use, and I accept such role gladly. Do not ask me' he shook his head, apparently understanding that he was made to tell things he should not have had told. 'What have you done?' he snarled, pointing the top of his massive sword towards Isrukam, the light Ligier shed drowning in the blackness of the blade. 'What is your game?'


The Visits

'Pain?' Alveua frowned, surprised, eagerly putting the cloth to her forehead, easing a bit 'Betrayal? Nothing to do with it' she shrugged. 'She is just an...'

'Abomination' the Wandering Eye finished for the demon, standing up from the chair, the ring dancing between her fingers, inexplicably shinning, as if the wood itself held an essence most powerful. 'That is what I am. I guess I owe you an explanation, Lord Lawgiver. And treat it as a token of good will, a sign that I bear no ill will towards your agenda' her voice begun to distort slightly, as if a few distinct sounds converged with it, creating a subtle dissonance. The ring she held begun blur, so fast she was passing it between fingers, turning it into a burning wheel, sparks of gold and silver flashing in the shadow.

And then, she stopped, closing her palm and swiftly passing into a series of an elaborate martial arts katas, her flowing movements strangely mimicking the whirling of the ring in her fingers moments ago.

'What in the Unquestionables names is she?' the grudge was gone from the Keeper's voice, and her eyes were open wide, in shock. Whatever she was seeing in that weird show, it was something truly terrifying... or magnificent.

The katas ground to a sudden halt, and the girl opened her eyes again - and it was impossible to miss the fact that they have changed their colour: they were now steel grey, gleaming like little pots of molten iron.

'I was created on the day of two thousandth Calibration since the Victory over Primordials Mudra' her words were cold, flat, dull. Emotionless. As if she was an automata repeating something burnt into her memory, not a living person. 'My purpose was of an experiment by a Raksha noble, one of the sanskra. His name is now lost to me, for he perished before I forged my memories. I know that I was to be the capstone of his thousands of years of experimentation, I was to become his soul. Alas, he made a fatal mistake and perished from cold iron, leaving me without a purpose: and with only a barest shred of his power left within me. However, I apparently became interesting enough for a Lawgiver named who called himself The Crimson Spear that he decided to investigate me further. I remember being worked upon, and I know that what I am now is his legacy: perhaps his own essence he poured into my body affected the spark of Wyld inexplicably: I know that since the day I was left out of his grasp, I have not aged a single day. My life begun on that moment, though I did find my purpose until the time when trapped outside the borders of Creation, I found my way into a freehold that no longer exists and had my four Graces forged. My eyes opened then, and ever since, I have dedicated my every asset towards an act that would reverse my creation, and re-shape my soul into a proper Heart so I can join the ranks of the Princes of Chaos and claim the legend of my creator as mine.'

She bowed, and without a word, with gestures both precise and elegant, threw the Ring into the air, launching into yet another series of katas, so quick that she had already finished as the grace fell into her open palm. The glow in her eyes shifted back.

'Did I explain everything?' she asked, panting, her voice normal again.

[oramus]

Isrukam eyes the blade pointing at him warily, and holds his hands openly to show that he's currently unarmed. He feels shielded by the latent power of his anima, untouchable while claiming legitimate business, but the sword is extremnely intimidating nonetheless.

"So quick to blame and to rise to anger; one who leads others should be grounded and thinking ever-forwards, not controlled by his own rage," Isrukam reproaches quietly. "You say you are here to conquer the Kite Flute's domain, and said domain lies before you undefended! Surely your mistress will be nothing but overjoyed with the news of a lossless victory." Isrukam voice raises in volume slightly, and it becomes filled with passion. As Essence winds its way into his words, they remain as soft as velvet but become as strong as steel, and his Caste mark suddenly bursts into radiant golden glory upon his brow.
"And you ask 'what is my game?' I have no time for games, for my chosen task is too demanding. I think we both well understand duty and how attentive we must be to her demands. Hear this; you have nothing to fear from me, Commander of Legions, no! No need for fear or suspicion or hate! I am not your enemy, and I would suggest that you do not make yourself mine!" Isrukam exclaims loudly, before backing away from the swordsman, gently hopping onto Enlil's back and sending him buzzing through the air to rejoin the rest of the group.


Isrukam is fed up of being accused and suspected, so he's gone a little crazy. He's attempting to allay the commander's suspicions and build an intimacy of allegiance of some sort, with a Cha+Pres roll + speciality for 11 dice, and he'll use 1st Presence Excellency to add 5 dice to the roll as well as spending 1wp for an automatic success.

[roll0]

[Gargulec]

Grimnir

The god gave Oriasta a strange, sort of worried look.

'An Infernal?' he glanced again towards the alight sky 'On the wedding? But... uh... well... so... that solves the question of those strange lights, though. Heh. Good that he did not manage to harm you, that would be... bad, right? And a mysterious man, right?' he made sure 'And he... vanished, right?' each word coming from his mouth was slower than the one before, as if he was talking to someone with problems with perceiving reality. 'But your essence is right? No disruptions to the domain, yes?''

He seemed genuinely worried, his eyes wide, his hands trembling in fear that maybe something terrible had happened to Oriasta, or even worse, to her domain.

[Odd_Canuck]

Punch and Min slowly walk back to Bartertown and return to the Forge. Fluffy returns and is sent off to reassure the treasured Fertility Goddess, and Punch and Min retire to their private room... but you don't want to hear about what happens there do you? No, of course not and a dark curtain descends. Instead you want to know, what is the place like? What would someone new to the area see about the town known only as Bartertown?

You are in luck, that is exactly what is here.


From a distance, it is clear that Bartertown is different from some of the other places in Oasis. The simple fact that it rises a full five stories up in places and is surrounded by a sparkling Paris Green wall 30 feet high speaks much of the rapid construction. The green forest to one side of the city wall gives an almost Creation feel to the place. There are many areas and buildings within the small sprawling town, as well as far FAR more warehouses, exchange houses and various small manufacturing locations... far more than would likely ever be needed for it's human population at least. As one approaches the city gate, the first thing one sees is the main Arch of the Laws. A towering structure of resin, brass and the bones of deal breakers, carved with the handful of laws that govern the lands. A bound demon idly waits at the base of the arch offering to tell any that ask of the laws should they be unable to read them.

The laws are few and simple and can be summarized even more simply. Don't misrepresent yourself or your products. Slavery isn't illegal, but improper slaving is. Disputes will be settled by the judges via memory extraction if need be. If both parties agree they may instead settle disagreements via contest in The Arena of Meditative Discussion instead. Attempting to extract goods, services or information via force is illegal unless it is within the bounds of an existing contract. Any crime of theft or misrepresentation shall be punished by a fine of five times the value of the goods or misrepresented contract, with two parts being submitted to the victim, one part to the judge and security squad, and two parts for the maintenance and expansion of the city.

Walking through the giant gates of silver glass, it is apparent that the walls of the town are coated in some transparent and reflective material. Apparently used to provide the sparkle effect to the otherwise unadorned walls. Given how... utilitarian so much of Oasis is it strikes people as unusual.

Entering the city itself, there are broad roads leading in various directions, strictly speaking far too broad for the minor amount of traffic they see, but when a "road" is little more than an area that doesn't have buildings upon it and where the brass has been roughed up to help provide traction... it is perhaps understandable. Giant signs of carved brass point the way to the gate to Malfeas itself, to the gate that leads to the higher plane and new home of the gods, and to the docks. Lesser signs, most with far more garish decoration point the way to areas of common interest,... The Forge, the school, The Prayer Mill, Gods Alley, The Whore Pits, Thunderdome, Artificer Row, The Last Stop as well as some of the more popular taverns and public houses, many with minor notes indicating preferred or forbidden customer types (Zweig's: The Loosest Dabo Girls Around!) (Hargar's House of Ribs: Don't ask, we won't tell) (The bottomless barrel brothel: we put you over a barrel! No citizens allowed without advanced contracts) (Krull's Distillery and brewpub: No mortals allowed). Finally adorning almost every available surface, on top of the overly colorful walls are posters. Some advertising people or services, many reminding people of the dangers of overindulgence and urging restraint and a focus on a dedication to productivity.

The buildings... can only be described as chaotic and garish. Any visitor can be reasonably certain there has been no place in the history of Creation with a more mish-mashed architecture or conflicting colour schemes. Buildings of etched brass and silver glass are besides giant resin structures composed of the most brilliant and clashing colours. Simple warehouses of paper-thin tin and copper are next to giant translucent shells. Push carts line the streets selling everything from stuffed toy dolls to celestial cocaine... often from the same cart. Anyone that is a visitor or who looks lost is immediately surrounded by people and demons offering to act as a guide for a reasonable fee. Hiring such a guide will quickly provide the visitor with much needed information, such as the multiple currencies that are in use ranging from silver and jade, to more esoteric currencies such as copper talent tokens or the PU or Prayer Unit issued and redeemed exclusively by the Prayer Mill. Such a guide would also answer the most common question of why the town is the size of a city, and so filled with demons... indeed there are as many if not more demons here than Humans. The answer in both cases is Punch, the one that founded the town.

Anyone and everyone is welcome here, provided they follow the laws. Anyone that breaks the laws, be they demon, human or god is not. A simplistic system, but one that works. The ones that control town from Master, a midget Aalu that is the second highest Judge to whom a dispute can be referred or Blaster, a wise giant of a Blood Ape are bound to by Punch to the service of the town and the laws. They in turn have some bound unit leaders who in turn have a number of employees to aid them. By far the largest group is commonly called the D.C.E., or Demonic Corps of Engineers. Composed of a core group of loyal demons, anyone can approach them and request the use or alteration of a building... barring good reason not to, they grant it for a minor fee or favor, particularly if it is something that a builder bug squad can do in short order such as a resin building. In their idle time they have started producing housing kits for sale in Oasis, with the intention that they be quick to assemble basic houses. Oddly enough, there is a far greater market in Hell for these quick-assemble structures that have become known as Roebucks that could ever exist in Oasis.

Warnings would be passed to avoid the forest area outside of the town walls. It is a testing ground and dumping ground for the results of artifice of all sorts. The trees that grow strong and quickly in the brass plain, with trunks of brown and leaves of green are toxic. The leaves are almost pure arsenic compounds and the trunks while brown are mostly copper and tin. The Vine-Melons that grow may look tasty but the melons eat the nearby trees... and any slow moving mortals or demons. Pools of spent acids, pools of liquid Pyre flame all exist here are are periodically gathered by crafters seeking the exotic and strange. Giant 8 foot tall chickens roam the forest eating anything they can and breathing fire. Just last month, the first quarterly Race Through the Wastes was held, daring contestants to travel across the forest a full 13 times over in a mandala pattern of praise to Malfeas. A full quarter of the contestants survived.

The Arena of Meditative Discussion, commonly called the Thunderdome by the locals stands stands barely a story above ground level, discounting the framework of brass rods that form a dome over it. Upon entering it, visitors rapidly realize that it extends downward into an etched pit, with layer upon layer of carved brass benches overlooking the central arena-pit. It is clearly overbuilt and built with attention to detail, as you could easily fit 20,000 people in it with little trouble and every bench is etched with decorations. It's unlikely it's ever seen more than 500. Epic poems and images praising the Incarnate, the Yozi and a woman from some place called "Nantucket" adorn every available surface. Transparent sheeting forms a low wall around the arena area, shielding the watchers from flying debris and rendering it slightly more difficult for a competitor to reach a spectator to turn into an improvised weapon.

The office of Slavery and Final Solutions, or as it's more commonly known The Last Stop. It the place to file ownership over other people, to have slavery, indentured servitude, or murder contracts filed that they are properly recognized should the matter ever be in dispute. Black resin rising three stories up, topped with a giant brass shell, it is also the market place of the desperate. When one becomes so in debt, so desperate they come to this place and can seek to put themselves into an indentured servitude or even slavery to pay off debts. The many bound demons and employees of the place do their best to help people find a minimum commitment for maximum value but sometimes, just sometimes, people have more debts to pay off than even a slave could pay for. Sometimes after much effort and hope, they make the decision that instead of trying to run away to Port Wrath or one of the other areas, they decide to ascend the stairs to the brass shell office that adorns the top of the building. They ascend to the office of Thosun. Who is polite, courteous and verifies that they have gone through the other options and are there willingly... And then he enslaves them. More often than not, he simply turns around and sells the slaves right back in the community after they have been broken, taking a loss. In fact Punch has a standing contract and rates depending on the skills of the slaves.

Arranging a murder there is easy, as many assassins and thugs have taken to hanging around for people looking for a spur of the moment contract. The contractee and contractor merely sit down and fill out the paperwork to prove that the desired murder is in no way financially beneficial and is a purely personal matter, and the contractor receives a ticket with a seal upon it to show should law enforcement ask any questions about his activities. Of course several people last month tried the old "I'll kill your partner if you kill mine" trick... They are currently decorating the arch.

The sand docks are one of the few areas outside of the city wall but are still a part of the city. Possessing anchor lines and tow lines, the docks are fully capable of handling dozens of cargo vessels at once, and the dock masters charge a quite reasonable fee for the upkeep of the docks and ship maintenance. To date, the most number of ships that have been there at any one time was five.

The Whore Pits are much what they sound like, where women and men sell themselves to mortal or demon offering services according to whatever price is best suited in some highly garish buildings, even by the standards of Bartertown. Be it taking a virgin or finding a mortal to bear your child, this is the place to look for bargains galore.

The School is the single largest organization in the town, and has many former Guildsmen there, and in fact is overseen by an Eclipse named Legate Dukat. It is the place to go to trade goods or more commonly services and education. No matter if you are looking for an Neomah to teach you that tongue thing, basic education for your child, instructions for drug creation or trading for anything from cloth to weapons, this large region is the place to go.

The Prayer Mill is one of the largest of all buildings in the town, standing a full five stories high. Even with the aggressively enforced laws, they still maintain a standing force of demons and humans protecting the combined warehouse and dormitory building. This is primarily because it is the building with the greatest concentration of valuable and portable goods in the whole town... most likely in all of Oasis. It overseen by a dragon blooded by the name of Tepet Tarmac, who will sell the services of those that work there to the most profitable bidder. Anyone can go to the Prayer Mill and buy a prayer. Ranging from simple prayers of thanks, to multi-day multi-day prayers with sacrifices they can all be purchased for the right price. During the spare time, he keeps people focused on prayer to the Immaculate Dragons, in a personal effort to try and strength or restore them, and thereby Creation. He knows there is little chance of it working in his heart, but his deeply felt faith compels him to try... even if it is futile. The latest venture the prayer mill has embarked on is population increase. Besides identifying and contacting Creation-Born that they feel would do well there, they are using Demon beckoning rituals. They identify specific demons that they feel would make for good citizens of Bartertown and call to them offering them a legitimate way to live under a set of rules slightly better than those of Hell.

Conveniently located across the street from the Prayer Mill is a small tea house of note run by a Dragon Blooded formerly of Lookshy known as Seven Reeds. Called The Immaculate Faith, the tea house specializes in vegetarian dishes and a delightful beer-substitute made with sarsaparilla root. It is noteworthy for it's extensive restrictions. Not only is it limited to humans, it limits it's custom to priests of the Elemental Dragons (and their guests) and those that pay honor to the Elemental Dragons.

Finally, in the tour of architectural wonder is The Forge. It is a giant pentagonal building, fully five stories above ground and at least that many down, it is a vast structure of furnaces, quenching ducts, rooms to act as labs and blast-safe channels. Five Great Smokestacks never stop as brass is smelted into arsenic, tin and copper, as goods of Creation are reworked into salable form, and exotic pigments are created for the use of artists... even as the remains of demonic animals are converted into some of the most palatable foodstuffs available to the people of Oasis.

Anyone wanting to use the facilities of the place are welcome for a small percentage fee, and almost all of the crafters of the town do. From artists to artificers the clang of hammers and the crunch of more organic components never ceases. The flow of raw materials and finished goods is continual, as brass slag is brought in by the truckload, only to be smelted, processed, subdivided and worked. The brass scrap that arrives today will no doubt leave in a few days as an assortment of human made copper clocks, demon made healing powders, shiny mirrors and a wide assortment of statues and artwork, almost all bound for the demonic realm.

Apart from the gates to the other realms, this completes your tour of the town... so now is a good time to find an ale house, order a plate of no-questions-answered ribs and relax. And don't forget to tip your guide.

[Flare]

Rose frowned. There was a clink as the broadsword came near Iskurum. "...Do not threaten him." she said- incredibly quiet, but loud enough to be heard, her voice was cold-. Her fangs flashed. "...He speaks only the truth." she did not particularly like the Eclipse- he was just a Solar, and she had no particular opinion on him-, but she was traveling with him at the time, so at the least she needed to pretend to care and protect him, she kind of felt like it was her job, at least.

"If you are going to...point a sword at someone, point it at someone who will punish you for it..."

[MrPrim]

”Don’t worry, I am uninjured,” she responded, casting a quizzical look at the other god, ”The Infernal wasn’t able to harm me before I fled and, as for the intruder, he seems to have left without causing any damage.” Glancing around her Sanctum and down at herself, she inspected everything, once again, for any signs of taint or damage. No, not anything that she could see….

”Is something the matter, Twice-Praised Keeper of the Sanctity? You seem troubled.”

[Dragnar]

Things Lost and Broken
While the others drank, Jania worked her way through the crowd one by one, seeing if any of them had heard about the solar's passage. After all, there was no way it had been at all subtle, given her personality. Surely someone here had heard something... And the hints of payment she dropped as she worked her way through the room were sure to loosen some lips sooner or later.


investigation + app + 2: [roll0]

[Gargulec]

Things Lost and Broken

The tavern became rowdy again, the tension no longer there. Patrons returned to their rugs and mugs, the barkeep poured a round... and then another and another to the fire-duck, engaging her in a conversation in Firetongue neither Jania nor Artificer could understand but which was clearly greatly pleasing to both the mortal and the elemental - and the Dragon-King as well. He was not drinking himself, but seated himself on the ground, with the flame-maned girl quickly jumping onto his lap, much to the chagrin of those few locals who had theirs hopes on getting a chance to get something out of her. The golden daiklave he strapped to his back, as if fearing that someone would be bold enough to try to steal it - and that seemed far-fetched, especially given the sheer terror that arose in the eyes of mortals when the anklok moved more swiftly than usual... and despite that fact that Artificer could almost feel the bubble of silence and averted glances that grew around him, he could hardly hope to match such an air of intimidation.

At first, Jania's inquires brought her little, if any information. Nobody has seen anything, nobody has recognized anyone, as if the passage of Arianna went completely unnoticed - or, for some reason, people of Port Wrath decided to not notice.

And then, just when she was about to abandon the vain attempts at getting any pointers, a delicate hand grasped her by the shoulder.

'Pretty ones such as you' she heard a sensual, audible whisper in her ear, aimed more at the observers. A whisper filled with promises of pleasure and passion - a voice of a succubus 'should not go without proper attention... adoration, don't you think?'

Someone in among the riff-raff whistled loudly, drawing attention of others towards the pair - and Jania could not notice that the arm that nimbly slipped around her was lavender in colour, wrapped in a snow-white robe.

'Come, I shall make it worth your while' the neomah kept on whispering loudly, and at the Jadeborn just felt the many gazes of the gathered patrons. 'You will like it, I promise...'

At the same time, her long, agile finger seemingly dancing over the Artistan's chest begun to trail a sigil, and then another and another, forming a few interesting words, out of the eyes of those around - and yet, Jania perfectly understood the unwritten words.

"I know" they said "of her".


Grimnir

He nodded solemnly, his face growing grim.

'I am not going to lie, Oriasta' he whispered quietly 'but there is a certain tension on the Island, you can feel it, right? Every god can... things are not the way they should be...'

He walked to a brush - incidentally, the same one that the stranger calling himself Grimnir plucked a rose from - looking at the flowers as if there was an answer to his problems there.

'Elementals ruling over us as if they were better' he murmured, anger and sadness mixing in his voice. 'The terrestrial rabble taking our places, taking our essence, our ambrosia... You know how twisted and vile this is, don't you?'

'There must be a change!' he sighed heavily 'Someone has to usher the return of the just order. This cannot be that a triumvirate of glorified river-spirits commands as if they were the heads of the bureaus, this cannot last.'

The god walked to you, starring. Chewy hissed quietly at him, but Keeper did not seem to notice.

'The usurping dragons, they like you' he stated, and that was... not entirely true. But his delusions he had to nurture. 'You could help us bring back the good days... you could reap much benefits from it, you know... he added, maybe even in spite of himself.

[MrPrim]

Grimnir


Oriasta patted Chewy’s head, trying to soothe the little beast. ”Oh,” she said, blushing and clearing her throat. ”Well….”

The goddess thought about the dragons in question, lesser elemental dragons who, thanks to the relative scarcity of their necessary and life-giving elements, had quickly been growing in puissance, political power, and arrogance. This was not the first time she’d heard murmurs about other gods being displeased with the elementals, but she’d paid the attention little mind. Unique among the gods, Oriasta had rarely concerned herself with personal power or devotion… but this was a brand new world….

Oriasta looked down at the little elemental in her arms. Even to her, Elementals lording over gods just felt wrong. The nice part of Oriasta, which was a substantial part, felt like everyone should be working together, for the good of their fledgling society. The smaller part of her that was preprogrammed to be divine railed at the idea that a mere elemental was seen as more indispensible than the embodiment of the proliferation of life. What could be more important, to a species, than proliferation? Mere survival was a temporary situation… on a long enough time-curve, life is 100% fatal. But reproduction – that way lies immortality.

”I suppose I could speak to the dragons,” she said, her voice far away, not entirely convinced. ”Maybe we could all better use our resources. Work together to make life for the humans better,” she said it, and she meant it… probably.

”Maybe we should talk to the Incarnae?” she offered, ”I’m sure Sol Invictus would be able to help get things working properly again.” Her voice was full of confidence – she believed with all of her heart that the Unconquered Sun could fix everything and make everyone happy.

But even with that confidence, Oriasta’s mind immediately went back to the far-off dead look in Venus’s eyes that morning.

A chill wind blew through the Sanctum of Glass and Flowers.

[Zoronos]

The Visits

Bartrand rubbed his chin. This was not a good idea. The potential side effects could be insanely dangerous, but maybe they were controllable. It would take research. "What you're asking for, I think I know how to accomplish it. However, it would take a Wyld source, which I don't have. Furthermore, it would take lots of time and research to ensure the procedure could be completed safely and correctly." Bartrand stood and began to pace about the room. There were so many factors to control for, so many variables in the equations.
Bartrand stopped suddenly, broken out of his trance. "Let's say I do agree to help you, it will take a lot of my time and effort to ensure the procedure works, what's in it for me?" Bartrand watched both women for reaction, Alveua especially. He hasnt agreed to anything yet, and everyone knew it, but he did not want to anger her just yet. He hoped she trusted him enough to see this line of discussion through.

[Gargulec]

The Visits

The one called the Wandering Eye smiled triumphantly, sparing Alveua not even a single glance.

'Should you help me, I shall help you' she said, the ring on her finger growing darker and darker until it dispersed into a wisp of shadow. 'To the fullest extent of my skills and memories, I will assist you in your efforts, whatever they may be, monstrous or humane, beautiful or abhorrent' the shade begun to circle her, leaving a faintest of all trails behind, a dark stain on the gloom of the manse, yet so clear, so perfectly visible. 'I will not second-guess nor disobey, I will be yours body, mind and soul for as long as the day of the glorious metamorphosis is brought closer by your help.'

The runes flashed in the trail of darkness, for a moment showering the workshop with a radiance of Wyld crazed stars, five long threads of silver and red wrapping around the the fae-bloods ankles, wrists and neck, binding them with a gleaming sign reading "Oathsworn".

'By the Ring that defines me, I am bound' her words rang with an unnatural echo, as if they were the climax of the ritual. The light faded, the Ring flickered out of existence and the silence befell the chamber.

Until a slow clapping broke it.

The Keeper of the Forge of Night, with a wicked smile on her face clapped her hands loudly, the dull sound having something very vicious in it.

'You have my congratulations, Bartrad' a smile on her face was mirthless and full of malice - though it was hard to tell whether it was the Solar who was the target of it, or the girl. 'You have a slave now... an expensive toy to do as it pleases you'

'Slave?' the Wandering Eye snarled 'You can't have me demon, so stop trying to humiliate me...' with the Cup suddenly appearing in her hand, the fae-blooded raised it in a mock toast towards the demon 'for you humiliate only yourself.'

'Don't fool yourself, wretch' Alveua retorted, smirking. 'As long as Bartrand will one day transform you into a real fae' there was barely hid mockery in those words 'you are his plaything, nothing more. And you know what?' she asked, almost dancing to Bartrand, wrapping her arm around him, and smiling with a striking mixture of hate and triumph. 'He likes me.'


Grimnir

'The Incarnae...' for a brief moment, his face showed true sorrow, something reaching deeper than anyone could try to mimic. It was as genuine as it could only get. 'They are... outside our reach. Especially Him.'

He snapped out of it quickly, though, stroking a delicate flower, the breeze making him tighten his robes and

'And thank you for your help' he smiled in spite of himself 'the Dragons will surely listen to you: and I could not ask for more.'

Bowing deeply, he begun to slowly walk towards the door.

'Thank you again, Oraista. And pay me a visit when you're able, I would be most glad to have you as a guest... ah! I almost forgot!' he scenically exclaimed, his arms swinging madly as if to highlight how genuine his forgetfulness was. 'The Dragon of Water wants to see you later today... It seems important!'

[Sallera]

Of Kites and Flutes

Tewi stops halfway to Vana, turning back to the swordsman as Isrukam speaks and blades are drawn, and glances between the two choices for a moment. Oh, sod it, if there's a time to get involved, it's before the swords start clashing. I can barely dance, what good will I do over there?

Moving up next to the commander before he can take Rose up on her offer, Tewi lays a jade-clad hand upon the demon's blade, gently moving it a few inches to the side and stepping in front of him. "Look, I'm a mercenary too. I know what it's like when a job runs into unexpected complications. But at the moment, we are on an official diplomatic mission from the Barony of the Lesser Ones to the Manse of Echoes Ascending, and we have neither the time nor the inclination to get involved in territorial disputes. Maybe there was a war or a claim of territory or something, but we didn't see anyone else on our way through, so if you want to know what happened before reporting to the Keeper, you'll have to go look for yourself. As tempting as it can be to beat your answers out of the nearest bystanders - and believe me, I'm hardly immune to that temptation myself - this isn't the time or place for it."

"And speaking from personal experience..." Tewi lowers his voice to a murmur, rolling his eyes and rubbing his neck. "...you don't want to annoy the Knight if you like your blood where it is."

[MrPrim]

Grimnir


Oriasta blinked. ”Oh… it… did?” she asked, a bit bewildered.

A more devious goddess would have found the timing of the request and the sudden, accidental forgetting of an important message to be hilariously suspicious. It was an inept enough bit of misdirection to be almost cute, to someone for whom subterfuge came easily. Of course, Oriasta was not that goddess, so the sudden and unexpected summons simply confused and disoriented her.

”Well, alright... that’s convenient I suppose. Do you know what it wants?”

[Gargulec]

Of Kites and Flutes

The grinding sound of the sword being sheeted almost muffled the tormented sigh of the army's commander.

'Chasing Unquestionables, are not you?' he murmured, bowing his head and spitting on the pavement. 'Screw this, you don't pay me nearly quite enough for this' he added in an angered, hushed voice, motioning you to carry on. 'Go, I'm not going to obstruct your glorious passage any more.'

Having said that, he turned towards his army and started barking orders, the blood-apes returning to formation reluctantly, beginning to march towards the fiefdom they were to claim once more - or whatever remained of it, anyway. Their footsteps resonated through the brass walls, sending small tremors behind and after them - in a manner akin to a bearing of a giant drum. On an afterthought, it was not hard to find it very ironic.

Neither Rose nor Tewi had any troubles with catching up with Vana's procession - it moved at slow, festive pace, so to make the demons around better able to witness it and marvel at it. For truly, it was a thing to be marvelled at.

Suddenly, Zsofika broke off the dance, grinding to an abrupt halt, a wicked adorning her face.

'Now' she said, looking at Enil circling above 'having gone past distractions, I believe it is a time for us to hit the stride and reach the manse-body before the Gerbe ends above.'

No more did she say to you, turning towards one of the side-alleys... and starting to run.

And all you could do was to follow.

The streets of Malfeas blurred around you, images, sounds and scents mingling into one. Tall spires of brass and jet, the ringing of the footsteps on a cracked green-iron bridge over the bottomless silver that is Gostvade, crazed dancers drinking the waters of Herga as it fell onto them, lost in their own world, beyond all that misery and grief.

Smoke-carried fragrances of blood and sweat. Music echoing from every corner and window, be it a harp, a bell or a horn or something stranger still, echoing and filling the streets with endless cacophony of sounds that somehow managed to flow into moments of perfect harmony every now and then.

Palanquins of the elevated ones sailing over the heads of common rabble, the faces of those inside hidden beyond the silk veils, Priests of Cecelyne observing the rites of the Demon-City, punching and rewarding according to their own twisted law. Battles raging on the plazas and alleys, seemingly without reason, yet no less bloody in the end.

A tomescu fighting off three angered demons you could not even begin to describe, his many armed limbs flowing in an off the mist that shrouded his body and drawing a little bit of blood with every strike.

Glimyne dancing a dance so intense that the walls itself closed on them, the spirit in the brass ripping itself free to witness the sacred art - and spelling doom to those demons unfortunate enough to dwell within the broken wall.

A broken corpse of a naneke hung from a gibbet, with a swarm of strange carrion eaters with the heads of wasps and bodies of an oversized crows picking at it, ripping the skin and meat from the body, to the cheers of the audience of other naneke, content to see less competition in their pursuit of knowledge.

Erymanthoi raping an angylkae in a small nook next to the main road, the harpist not stopping to play even as she wept and struggled, the music mournful and tragic and yet beautiful beyond imagination - and thus pleasing to a small crowd of demons gathered around, listening to the haunting tune in nigh-perfect silence.

All that you have seen, and many more.

There was a plaza you reached after an hour of a frantic chase through the streets and alleys, a plaza were marottes dismantled a building with a childish glee, oblivious to the screams and struggles of demons trapped inside by their actions. But something else was important here: a tall stairway, spiral and thin, hanging from the the air itself, without any supports or railing, reaching high into the sky, towards a great jet aqueduct above: a road sung into existence by Jacint.

Without hesitation, Zsofika hopped on the first step, and the next one and next one, making you do the same. Even without her chimes, she was a fascinating thing to watch in motion, such effortless and endlessly intriguing was the grace of her movements.

And so, you ascended, until instead of steps and an endless drop onto the streets, there was a road of black stone beneath your feet. It was silent here, only barest shreds of music: for endless corpses had strewn the work of Jacint, a deed done by the one who's love is more destructive that her hate.

The Silent Wind had been here before you.

But you had no time to contemplate that, for Zsofika did not stop running - and you had to run, too.

In some ways, from high above, the chaos of Demon-City appeared magnificent: the emerald light glistening on the brass, drowning in basalt, the mad architecture looking almost like a deranged, yet still masterful work of art.

The body-manse you have heard before you have seen it: for it was an echo more than a place, a subtle song playing in the back of one mind, a tune both familiar and alien, alluring and repelling at the same time. It resonated through the air, weaving itself into the sounds of mundane; in a footstep, in a jagged breath, in a curse or laughter it was to be found.

As the music intensified, so you grew closer to Amalion's manse of this layer: yet, it was nowhere to be seen, hidden or obscured from an eye. But your guide knew of it, for at every turn or intersection of the road of Jacint, she did not have any problems with picking the right path - so you followed, trusting.

But even your trust had to come to a sudden end as you reached a dead end, a perilous drop into the city far, far below - and saw Zsofika dive right in, as if the road to Amalion led through such a suicidal act.

[Flare]

To Rose, the cruelty and excess of the Demon Realm was nothing to her. She did not know these demons, and did not care. By He Who Held In Thrall, she somewhat knew Zsofika- considering it was her hair that was wound about her book until she gave it to someone else-, and she would not have stopped to help her had it been that demon in any of those situations. Of course, Isrukam was strange enough to want to help them, so she had to follow behind him instead of going in front.

Though, there was one time she bothered to turn her attention from the chase of Zsofika to deal with it. When she saw the Blood Ape plying his disgusting trade, Rose shrugged. She threw several knives down the nook, striking the watchers and the blood-ape, leaving the harp player unharmed. "Ugh..." she muttered, looking at her hand. "My fingers slipped." she said, loudly, to make it obvious she certainly had not actually cared about the act going down, and it was absolutely by accident that she had thrown the knives directly at the spectators and rapist to kill them. "What a waste of knives.", she finally added, to press upon the group that she really did not care. It was just that her fingers slipped when she pulled out her knives and they accidentally went down the nook and hit the people watching. then went back to ignoring all the horrible things going on, and raised not a finger to help them.

When Zsofika leaped, however, she did not paused. There was nothing to fear from heights, so she jumped into the air as well, her hair flying into the sky, her book jangling loudly, as she floated, before dropping straight down, after the demon. "...Try not to die." she offered over her shoulder.

[Dragnar]

Jania stiffened at the touches, about to push whoever it was away... when she noticed the message traced out on her skin. Well, that changed things a bit. If someone was going to the trouble of relaying something so simple secretly, there had to be a bit more going on here than she realized. Time to play along for a bit. She spun around in her 'informant''s grip, putting on a quick smile as she wrapped an arm around them to tap out her own message in response. "Oh? Where... can you... explain?"

rolling too return the message secretly: [roll0]

[oramus]

Isrukam follows Zsofika atop Enlil on a meandering path high above the streets of Malfeas, trading jokes with the agata that the other barely understood, and even then only after a comprehensive explanation. Humour in hell was... different to say the least, it seemed.

Isrukam stops in surprise mid-sentence as he sees Zsofika fling herself over the precipice's edge, being closely followed by Rose. Enlil weaves gracefully through the air directly above the drop. He turns to look at Isrukam and, by Sol, though it shouldn't be possible for an agata, Isrukam swears he sees a mischievous expression on the exquisite face.

A split second later, Enlil dives vertically downwards, with Isrukam clinging on perhaps a little more than was necessary. The demon wasp's wings vibrate so quickly they become a blur of colour and a thrumming buzz, reflecting wildly shifting patterns of multicoloured light around them. The last traces of Isrukam's anima stream behind as they plummet downwards to create a brilliant shining trail; a golden comet surrounded by a rainbow halo shooting through the darkness to whatever lay beneath them.

[AmberVael]

The cruelty of the demon realm is easy to see, and it sparks mixed feelings in Vana- disgust and sympathy. She is repulsed, but feels the need to bring a better life to the broken city.

Knives flick out to right one wrong, despite Rose's protests at doing so. Vana, however, decides for a somewhat different approach, and as the ape falls dead, she snatches up the unfortunate angylkae and sweeps it away from the crowd, carrying it along with her on their mad rush, probably to its great confusion.

As Zsofika hurtles herself off the edge, Vana follows. There was precious little time to decide what to do, but Vana decided to put her faith in Zsofika. She does not pause, but races to the edge and leaps off, stretching out her arms as she plummets from the cliff.

[DaWrecka]

Things Lost and Broken

The tavern, as far as the Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies felt, was a complete waste of their time. He was able to find nobody who was willing to so much as give him the time of day, much less useful information on the passage of the Solar Arianna. Those who at least did not simply 'blow him off' as the living termed it claimed to have no information - and the Artificer was unable to tell whether their words were truth or falsehood. The anklok was hardly finding any information either, his capacity for intimidation causing loose lips to tighten even better than those around the Artificer. And even though the jadeborn at least seemed to be able to find people willing to talk to her, unlike both himself and the anklok, if her expression was anything to by - although he would be the first to admit he was usually a poor judge of the living - she was having no greater success than he.

That is, until the neomah - the Artificer was able to identify the demon as such with ease - wrapped her - its? - self around the jadeborn. The jadeborn's expression was curious... And he was not sure he could entirely interpret it correctly.

Any rolls to be made will have to be made in OOC...

[Gargulec]

Things Lost and Broken

They say that the touch of Jadeborn Artistians is a magic unto itself, that it does wonders beyond wildest dreams... and there had to be some truth in that, for as Jania was spinning around, with the demon in her arms and writing her message through the neomah's chest and back, she could see the demons eyes suddenly shooting wide open, blackening until they were two orbs of darkness.

A long, blissful gasp exited her mouth, and as if not controlling her own movements, she pressed herself tightly to the jadeborn, a pair of brazen earring she wore jingling quietly.

'Oh...' she managed to moan 'amazing.'

Of course, the entire gathered audience was ogling the pair without any regrets nor remorse, waiting for the action to unfold. A few were cheering.

'She does that often, doesn't she?' one particularly drunk man put his hand on Artificer's shoulder, smiling, presenting all the teeth he lacked to the Abyssal - and he lacked many. 'You must be graced by the gods, then...'

'Now, you will have to teach me that' the neomah whispered, meanwhile 'and do that again, too... but now' she almost reluctantly begun to steer the Jadeborn towards the exit, much to the woe of the gathered 'we shall take it to the private, honey.'

Her voice changed, and now the sensual tone in it sound a bit as if the demon lost control of her own urges.

Well, Jadeborn touch is said to work magic.


The neomah gains an intimacy of lustful fascination with Jania.



Grimnir

The god did not even try to conceal the fact of how glad he was that his transparent ruse had not been seen through by Oriasta, smiling widely, pleased with his scheming skills.

'The Dragon Of Lifegiving Waters demanded to see you after the wedding has ended' he looked at the goddess strangely. 'But you should get some rest... and maybe change into something else, right? No rush, you've been through a lot, right? So refresh yourself and meet that... uh, nevermind. Fare well!'

He gave a one more bow and disappeared into the lush vegetation of the Island of Our Benefactors.

[DaWrecka]

Things Lost and Broken

The Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies was not impressed with the drunkard. "Remove your hand from my armour," he rasped curtly. "Before I remove your hand from your body."

He did not bother to wait for a response as the neomah began to coax the jadeborn towards the exit. He got to his feet sharply, paused just long enough to bring the dragon king's attention to the demon and jadeborn, and stepped towards them. "Hold, demon," he said in a tone that indicated he would brook no refusal. "I would know your intentions towards my travelling companion, before I allow her out of my sight in a place such as this."

[Dragnar]

Things Lost and Broken
Well, that was... not exactly the reaction she had been going for. Still, that could be dealt with later, and for now the abyssal was going to make this far more suspicious than it already was. Keeping an arm wrapped around the demoness, Jania headed out the door, taking just a quick glance back at Artificer as she and the neomah left. "I can take care of myself just fine, thank you. And her intentions should seem obvious enough..." Which was... hopefully entirely false of course. But better to have everyone believe it either way.

[Sallera]

Of Kites and Flutes

Tewi sighs in mingled exasperation and relief as they leave the army behind. Solars... And of course it turned out that one of them could fly, so all of this would have been entirely avoidable if he had only thought to ask. Still, whether the matter with Zsofika would turn out to be a boon or a curse remained to be seen, and she might have found them anyway, given that she had been employing their guide.

The mad dash through the city takes up most of his attention on its own; he is unaccustomed to running for long distances, although he still manages a quick salute to his patron as they pass over his river-body. Still, the myriad sights of the Demon City are as fascinating as ever, and although he doesn't particularly worry about the others' occasional intervention, it does seem somewhat pointless. What use trying to change this place? Better to learn about it, all he could, and make his own way in it. Perhaps the different viewpoint of the Solars came from their greater power, perhaps it was simply in their nature to seek to remake things in the image of their own virtues. Perhaps he ought to stop thinking about such things, and focus more on the imminent drop ahead.

Well, Zsofika had led them this far without trouble, they had kept her out of the grasp of Alveua's army (had she known about them beforehand?), and she does not strike him as any more capable of surviving a drop of this height than they are, so he follows the others' lead, carefully aiming his jump to ensure he would not land on one of the others should this strange entrance be simply a shorter drop than it appears. Small courtesies were greatly preferable to large swords.

[Odd_Canuck]

The next morning starts. Offering a brief prayer of thanks to Sol, Punch draws back the black curtains on his private rooms, letting the brilliant golden light flow through the tinted window and flood the room. Min mumbles something as she buries herself deeper under the blankets as Punch smiles at the sight. Unbolting the locks he exits to the antechamber only to find that some thoughtful assistant had made up some breakfast trays. Giant ribs of some sort of meat, milk, scrambled egg and melon flesh with the latter three clearly being fresh... someone must have braved the forest to make this meal. Making a mental note to thank whoever prepared it, Punch makes up a tray of the food and quietly leaves it next to his new wife, making certain to close the solid door behind him. Taking a quick meal, he dresses and gets ready for the morning exercises... it's time to start this day.

Walking across the room, he briefly stretches and then draws up a large brass hammer and brings it down on an even larger brass bell. And again. And yet again. On the 10th strike a rumbling is heard in the distance. On the 12th voices can be heard. On the 15th, the doors are flung open as a number of Mortals, Haranhal, Neomah, a few elementals and even a lone blood ape enter, singing and carrying a variety of tools, cages of insects and even bars of metal.

(Humans) We hear the call, the call to build, to make a new home!
(Blood Ape) Eh, shut up and work, or I'll gut you all in the 'dome!
(Neomah) Flesh to craft, life to make and form to shape!
(Haranhal) Hammers to ring, Flesh to chase, we're more fun than the 'Ape!
(Neomah)For Profit! (Blood Ape)For Glory! (Humans)For the Future of All!
(All) Crafting wonders anew, we ring the bell and begin our toil. Crafting: We hear your call!

Tables and gear are quickly set up, as Punch extends his essence arms drawing forth two rough sets of plans setting them out for inspection of the group. They are crude, clearly in need of refinement but do manage to lay out the groundwork for the projects of the day... A strange burrowing beetle like creature that borrows from the dread Diamond Beetles that chew through the impossibly hard metals of Malfeas, as well as from the Namib beetles that live in the south as well as some behaviors and abilities most common to spiders. The secondary project is far more simple, and more fleshed out in detail, a simple magitech device that is intended to convert and purify dead organic matter into something palatable to humans.

Taking the beetles and the a hammer so fine it is dwarfed by tweezers, Punch and the assistants start in to work, shaping essence, molding flesh and making new life, even as the second team starts to coordinate with the partial mind in the arms that Punch bears, laying out complex cogs and gear of purified brass and copper.

At noon the door to the bedroom is briefly opened and then quickly shut as Min is assaulted by the uproarious din of a dozen conversations, songs and projects happening at once. Finally the door opens again and she walks out into the organized chaos that was an almost empty room the night before. Walking out, she takes in the vast effort going on and after a prolonged kiss with her husband (to much hooting from the Haranhal and cheering from the humans) she settles in to help with crafting the food processing engine.


The first project is creating an Artifact 2 lifeform that will be known as a water burrow beetle. It finds water highly uncomfortable, even in small doses. As a result it burrows into the ground/sand and extends a fan of it's wings above ground. It captures and extracts the water that is in the air, condensing it into an underground cylindrical container of tin coated copper roughly 5 inches long and 2.5 inches across. When the container is filled it seals it and attaches it's eggs to the container, separates from it and flies off to form a new nest. The eggs can not hatch while the container has water in it, but will do so within minutes of the water being drained from the container.

This project is currently at 15/30 successes needed, so the design is finalized and documented but that's about it.

The second is a variant of the Artifact 1 pill-making machine from Alchemicals. The only difference is that it makes a larger form, akin to an MRE. The food it produces is absolutely tasteless and bland. It is capable of producing 1 MRE per minute, which requires 2 pounds of organic material to be put in. This project is completed.

It will be set up as a business venture in town, for every 10 pounds of non-edible organic mass brought in (5 MRE) the person bringing it in will get 2 MRE, the person running the crank will get 1 MRE. Of the remaining 2, 1 MRE will go to Punch's household and 1 to general emergency supplies for the town.

[Gargulec]

Things Lost and Broken

It was bright outside, even if the dramatic of the situation would require it to be dark and gloomy when informer and an information-seeker meet. Then again, it was always bright here - and only thanks to the the azure skies of nearby Cecelyne was the light diminished.

The demon - clinging to Jania a bit too tightly and murmuring a melody perhaps a bit too sensual - led her to the side of the tent, a small back alley where only a single, aged man slept on the brass, curled tightly with only a shredded robe on his back. He had nothing, and so he had little to fear from the Port Wrath.

'I need to breath' the neomah muttered, apparently annoyed by her new fascination, glancing at the sleeper, sniffing the air and measuring the winds. She took a deep, long breath, relaxing. 'Now, you don't have a faintest idea what you are sticking your lovely fingers into, do you? Urgh' she shuddered suddenly, frowning 'perish the thought... why had you to?' there was a genuine irritation in her voice, as if she was accusing Jania of something fairly terrible. 'Anyway... I know how to help you find the thing you've lost, but at a price.'

Meanwhile, at the tavern, a sigh of disappointment echoed under the roof. The patrons, a bit grimmer now, returned to their drinks, while the one who tried to engage in a talk with Artificer returned to wherever he came from - surprisingly fast, given his state.

'Ha!' the anklok bellowed 'I've expected that essence-human to be chaster! But I believe that your kind lack the strength of spirit to withstand the temptations of the demons that seduce!'

'You're too harsh, big one' the flame duck responded, laying her head on the Dragon King's lap, the flames of her mane flickering happily. 'You know?'

With a surprising delicacy, the giant lizard stroked the little elemental's head, instead of throwing even more pompous clarions like the last one.


Tea at Amalion

Of Kites and Flutes has ended. 10XP to each of the participating


So you jumped - and started to regret it almost immediately after. The drop was even higher that you would expect, the city beneath so small and delicate, the Green Sun above so close. You had the time to contemplate, even as the acceleration was pushing the breath out of your lungs. The music intensified even further, though no passage seemed to occur: and the ground was closing in fast.

Within moments, you had a clear view of the plaza you would splatter yourself on, a round disk of basalt that seemed awfully hard.

Maybe you've even closed your eyes as you were about to hit it. The angylkae in Vana's embrace certainly did, wrapping her long-fingered arms tightly around her Solar saviour.

And then, the expected happened, and the pavement cracked and shattered, allowing your passage and Ligier flickered above... and with a nasty, crunching sound, you found yourself standing in the middle of an immaculately kept garden.

It was silent here, in a true meaning of that word: no sound marred the tranquillity, the emerald radiance raining down from the starless sky almost peaceful here. To your sides, an endless bush of bronze roses spread, and you could not tell whether it had an end - it did not seem to. It speckled with colourful flowers - from Creation and beyond, arranged into a pattern you could not discern, yet its purpose was easy to understand.

Each stone, rose, blade of grass was a proof of geomantic perfection of Amalion's design. The manse around you was designed beyond the limits, was a gem of artifice only Solars could ever hope to match.

Wide alley, sprinkled with gravel led from where you were standing deeper into the manse, through the alley flanked by trees of brass and emerald towards a great, spiral tower in the distance, gleaming with white marble.

From that road, two guards were approaching. Armed with spears, clad in a surprisingly ordinary armours, they would appear almost human if not for the fact that their faces were just a painting on iron, nothing more.

'We have been expecting you, Lords Lawgivers and Bostvade's vassal' they spoke up in unison, saluting you. 'Amalion awaits in the hearthroom.'

Their painted eyes turned towards Zsofika.

'Serfs are not allowed into Amalion' they declared, crossing their spears before the demoness. 'That goes for the harpist, too.'

[Dragnar]

Finally, someone willing to explain what was going on here... though she seemed a bit, uh, negatively effected by that message back there. Regardless, any sort of information was welcome, and this demon was offering it.
"I do not know what I am getting into, no. I was simply asked to help find a Solar. Any sort of explanation of what exactly I agreed to would be nice. So... what's your price?"

[Zoronos]

The Visits

Bartrand signed, and wrapped his arm around Alveua in return, and pulled her slightly closer to his side. He leaned down close, and spoke softly, careful to turn his face away from the fae as he did so. "While I do not disagree with your assessment of the situation, perhaps it would be more useful to share your analysis with me only, rather in front of those it might offend." Bartrand smiled for a moment before he continued, "Though you are right, I do like you."

Bartrand straightened up, though he didn't remove his arm from around Alveua. "Now that we now all understand each other, and there is no further threat of violence in my lab, lets go back to our previous topic. What plans did you have for this narcotic of yours? I have a few ideas about how to put it to good use, if you do not. Furthermore, where have you been obtaining the gossamer for the experiments?

[AmberVael]

Tea with Amalion

Vana has no reason to argue against the rule, so she simply nods in acknowledgment, then turns to Zsofika and the harpist with a smile. "Will you wait here for us, please? I don't believe we'll be too long." She then turns her attention back to the guards. "See to it that nothing befalls either of them in my absence. They are under my protection." Her tone brooks no argument- if the guards would enforce the rules that separated them, then they had best take care of the consequences.

Though she's pretty sure Zsofika can take care of herself from anything short of another army. It's more the harpist she's concerned about.

Without waiting for any other direction from the guards, she will proceed down the path to the spiral tower.

[DaWrecka]

Things Lost and Broken

The Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies, much to his chagrin, found himself completely out of his depth here. Single-handedly shadowing the demon and jadeborn was not something he felt he could do well. He could perhaps force the demon to talk, but he suspected the jadeborn might be able to extract the needed information without... precipitous results. On the other hand, he found it equally likely that the demon would lead the jadeborn into an ambush. He had not even learned how useful she could be to his plans, he was reluctant to simply leave her in the hands of Hell's spawn at this juncture.

Of course, this meant that he had little recourse but to... Already, he felt despair welling up in his blackened heart as he nudged the dragon king. "The demon knows something," he hissed. "Of this, I am sure."

[Gargulec]

The Visits

'Offending her is half the fun, stupid' the demon shared Bartrand's smile, giving him a quick smooch on the cheek, the spite and hate in her eyes, the heritage of her creator's creator shining so dark that the gloom of the room seemed bright by comparison.

The fae-blood, however, did not seem to mind.

'The narcotic?' she shrugged 'why would I have an use for it?' the surprise in her voice seemed genuine 'I've created it by accident, working on that hangover cure for a certain skank' there was no glance at the Keeper of the Forge of the Night as she delivered the insult, as if she was ignoring the demon's existence for now. 'As for the gossamer?' there was another shrug, implying that she found that question rather pointless. 'The usual way. Find a mortal, rip the virtues out of him until I am full on Essence and then gorge on what remains, transiting those shreds into unrefined dream-stuff.'

'Amusing' Alveua whispered into the Twilight's ear 'that your servant whom you protected from my angers is a worse monster than I am.'

'They are mortals!' the fae-blood apparently heard the hushed words, and they... did strike her. 'They live like sixty years, who the hell cares if one of them gets their soul eaten? They are worthless, anyway!'


Things Lost and Broken

'My price for one such as y...' the neomah begun to murmur again, before biting on her tongue. 'Get this feeling off me, please' she sighed, breathing heavily. 'Easy now' she muttered to herself, putting her eyes on some point of the horizon 'I want you to take me into that Oasis of you proper, and find me a place, preferably close to you' there was a faint tone of resignation in that words, as if she had just ceased some internal struggle. 'This place is little better than the City itself, and for a number of... reasons I can't go back home again. So take me away, or promise to, and I shall tell you what I know.'

Meanwhile, at the tavern, the anklok turn his massive saurian head towards Artificer, not stopping to stroke the elemental - who reacted to it almost like a cat, purring silently with her eyes closed and a pure bliss on her face.

'That is good!' he announced, stating the obvious 'You are a perceptive corpse, essence-carcass!'

'Wait, what do you mean 'carcass'? the tavern-keeper jumped up, grabbing the flame-piece again 'a zombie?'

'Of course not!' the dragon-king responded, surprised at the ignorance of the human 'he is just dead!'

The man paled, his finger sliding towards the trigger.

'You are not one of those...' he muttered, suddenly terrified 'those that made us flee?'

[DaWrecka]

Things Lost and Broken

The Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies growled an angry sigh, putting his face in his hand. He looked the bartender straight in the eye. "Perhaps," he rasped. "And perhaps not. I do not know precisely what happened to Creation. Perhaps the... exodus was, in fact, caused by the actions of deathknights. I do not know. What I do know, however..." Quick as a whip, the Artificer grasped the hilt of Armoursmith's Despair and drew it. He held it in a horizontal position between himself and the bartender. "Is that you should not test me, for it will go badly for you if you do."

Taking a Draw Weapon action, but not Join Battle'ing... yet.

[Sallera]

Tea at Amalion

"As you say." With a brief nod, Tewi turns to their guide. "Zsofika, thank you for your guidance. I would be interested in speaking further with you later, should you wish."

He takes the time to admire Amalion's perfection as he follows Vana, a brief distraction from the politics left behind and the politics yet to come. Although he was never trained in any formal understanding of the principles, he knows enough about Essence flows and power generation to catch a hint of the immense complexity behind this manse of the peerless architect. Fitting in, right? The better your placement of the pieces, the easier things flow. Goes for most things, I reckon.

[Dragnar]

Things Lost and Broken
Well, that was certainly an easy enough request. The Oasis could always use more help, and demons tended to be far more competent than the majority of the mortals there... though her reactions were still slightly disconcerting.
"That's all? In that case, you have my word I will find you a place in the Oasis after this is over. We can always use more help anyway."

[MrPrim]

Grimnude

Oriasta blinked as the god departed as suddenly as he had come. ”What a strange day,” she muttered, sighing. She waited a few more moments, expecting one of the Neverborn, or perhaps a wandering Fairy merchant, to show up and demand her assistance with something vital.

One beat, two beats, nothing.

”Alright then,” Oriasta muttered. Looking down at her clothes and at her frazzled hair, she sighed. ”I need a shower,” she muttered to Chewy, who made a confused noise, ”Fine, I don’t NEED a shower… but I want a shower. A nice hot shower.”

Several minutes later, Oriasta was getting into a good lathering state when a knock at the front door of the Sanctum resonated through the glass of her domain.

Perhaps some Full Moon Lunar has finally arrived?

“It never fails,” she sighed, wrapping her hair in a towel to dry and stepping out to meet whatever new intruder came to her sanctum.

Note the number of towels I mentioned her wearing.

Ha!

“Who is it?”

[Flare]

Rose inclined her head- though she smiled at the fact that Zsofika was no longer considered worthy to see Amalion-, then turned to the Second Circle.

"...You." she said, pointing. "Protect her." she pointed at the First Circle Demon. "From everything and anything, including yourself. Not a single bone, hair, inch of skin is to be harmed on her." she explained, slowly, like talking to a child. She attempted to avoid leaving a loophole that would let her harm the creature through action or inaction. "And don't run off." she finished, then turned back and made her way to the guards, waiting to be let in to speak to the Third Circle Demon.

[Gargulec]

Things Lost and Broken

The tavern-keeper sighed bitterly, dropping the weapons again. The wooden stock rebounded loudly of the brazen floor, rolling to the side.

'Just...' he pleaded, resting heavily on a wooden stool he had, one of those that always seemed to miss a leg 'just don't wreck this place, please.'

'You don't have anything to fear, human' the hiss over Artificer's shoulder was as bombastic as ever for the anklok, yet the deathknight could not deny that there was something chillingly serious in it. 'Should he try to bring forth destruction, he would find me in his path.'

In the silence that followed that declaration, with all the eyes inside set on the pair of dragon-king and the Daybreak, the massive saurian put a claw on Artificer's sword-arm, moving with an unassuming grace before him.

'You don't speak of the destruction too lightly around me, essence-carcass' he snarled 'for things I have lost in the fire are many and irreplaceable. I know what you are!' he bellowed out of sudden, presenting the set of vicious fangs to the abyssal before him, his living eye momentarily narrowed. 'I follow you and I will assist you, but prove true to the agenda of your kind, and I will give your black heart to the Sun, so that He may purge to wickedness from your flesh! And that is no idle threat'
he turned to the patrons, raising the golden blade above his head 'HEAR IT, HUMANS! SUN PROTECTS, AND I AM THE INSTRUMENTS OF HIS WILL!'

That voice was a thunder, that voice was a roar, that voice was the truth as straight and keen as the blade of his daiklave.

Meanwhile, outside, the neomah smiled, relieved.

'My saviour, my lo...' there was a sharp hiss, the demon biting his tongue again. 'lord, let the Unquestionable never notice you for that' she added, giving Jania a deep bow. 'As for what I know... the whereabouts of your quarry is not something I am aware of, but I listen now' she lowered her voice to a whisper 'she most likely crossed her paths with the Power That Be of Port Wrath, all portents point to that... and in such case, I would tell you to back away before you get involved, because... well, there is not telling whether there will be a road back after you do. But' she hushed her voice even more silent, looking around warily, as if afraid that even in such a derelict alley, there could be people eavesdropping 'but, if you really, really care... there is an alchemist set up in the fringes, name being Parcelus. Ask him for five ounces of ground haematite and and a single rod of red jade. If he tells you that he is out of jade, nod. That means that you are safe and that he will lead you to the source of information. If he tells you that he is out of haematite, run. As fast as you can, because that means a catastrophe'

She sighed quietly, having passed that information, and looked at the Jadeborn curiously.


Dragon
Fury, Oriasta

Grimnir finishes, giving Oriasta 3XP to spend as she sees fit.


Soft, gentle sound of oars breaking the still, dark waters' surface was the only thing that marred the perfect tranquillity of the lake around the Island of Our Benefactors. Above and around, a thick mist shrouded the boat from the wrathful gaze of Ligier, and only dispersed, darkened gleaming reached through the vapours to the Lunar's eyes, carrying scantly any light with it.

The oarsman, an elderly man so skinny that he looked like just a skeleton with a skin tightly wrapped around it and ageless eyes as deep as the waters he was crossing kept to himself, despite his demeanour suggesting that he could break into koans of endless wisdom at any moment. He was the highest priest of the elementals, the one pious and pure enough to row a small boat across the lake, and set his foot on the island that was wrought with the powers of those whom he venerated. No greater blessing there was for him to attain.

But he was also nearing the finale of his days, and was barely strong enough to pull the oars - but with too much of spirit within his withered body to relinquish them to his passengers or ask for help. It occurred to Fury that chances were that the priest would perish rowing, and that he would find glory in such death.

Finally, after what seemed to last for an eternity, the banks of the Island of Our Benefactors came to view, and soon, the boat docked. The priest slowly put down the oars, and respectfully kissed the sacred ground, his bones creaking audibly.

The sanctum of Oriasta was not hard to find, requiring just a brisk walk through a thick forest that seemed almost like if it was taken from Creation whole, with animals of all kinds living and preying underneath the massive trees and elementals of all kinds hidden right in the corner of the eye, but gone, when one tried to look at them. Even the music of this place was correct: the rustle of green leaves, churning of birds, the cracking of dry twigs beneath the Lunar's feet. Truly, the Three Dragons did their work well.

Finally, he found himself at the front of the glasshouse, knocking at the door... and treated to the sight of Oriasta's without any (barring a single towel) clothing. A pretty distracting sight, it was.

[DaWrecka]

Things Lost and Broken

Calmly, as if the dragon king's proclamations affected him not one whit, the Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies returned Armoursmith's Despair to its sheath, although he did not remove his hand from its hilt. "I had not intended to destroy anything here without provocation," he said simply. He cast a disdainful eye over the tavern's interior. "But had I been so provoked, I would have gladly fed this tavern and everything within to Oblivion. Since they value their skins, however, the Void will hunger in vain for another day." He locked eyes with the anklok, a challenge in his own, and leaned back, his other hand resting on a convenient chair. "Does this satisfy you, dragon king?"

[Zoronos]

The Visits

Bartrand looked between the women before letting out a slight laugh. "A tad hypocritical isn't that? Your objection to her forging you versus your forging of mortals is just that you live longer, so it's not okay for you to be forged, but their lives are short, so its acceptable. Bartrand shrugged his shoulders, the place on his cheek where Alveua had kissed him smoldering for a moment. "So that is to be our little cartel then, is it? The two of you melt down mortals for your various devices, and I melt down demons. Ironic, in a way." Bartrand smirked, "Then again, at least I admit my hypocrisy in finding it acceptable to render demons into Chalcanth, but not to cause the deaths of mortals."

Bartrand raised a finger, as if to stem a reply from Wandering Eye. "Regardless, for now we will not be using mortals to generate gossamer; they are sufficiently rare that we need a way to produce new breeding stock for them before we begin using any for Gossamer production. I will summon you some blood apes or other demons to use in gossamer extraction. For the short term, I want you to begin small-scale production of this narcotic so that we can begin testing; I want enough to conduct tests on a variety of demons and on humans as soon as possible. Also, it will need a name..." He scratched his chin momentarily, running his fingers over the stubble that was beginning to form. He'd need to shave later today.

Bartrand Picked up the small jar of blue liquid, and swirled it around."Unless you can think of something better, we'll call it Azure Bliss."

[Volthawk]

Fury had decided that, given how this was a friendly visit and he'd been told that his warform wasn't exactly the best show of friendliness, to go in his human form, with his helmet off.

Once the door is opened, and he sees Oriasta, Fury is quiet for a moment, just taking it in. Then a thought comes through that he should probably not do that. He then continues like nothing's wrong.

"Uh, I just thought I should come round to see if you're all right, after what happened at the wedding."

[MrPrim]

Dragon

”Oh, hello!” The goddess smiled her beatific “appearance-seven” smile and opened the door for the Lunar, ”Fury, right? Oh, that’s sweet of you. Please, do come in!”

Oriasta led Fury into a small parlor room, shooing Chewy off of a seat so that her guest could rest. ”What happened after I…,” Oriasta, paused and tensed her “appearance-seven” shoulders, making all of her other “appearance-seven” attributes move and adjust in noticeably appealing ways, ”After I ran away? Is everyone alright?” she asked, her voice full of concern.

[Volthawk]

"Well, Punch and I then took the Infernal on. Lot of Essence going off, quite a bit of destruction of the shrine, and he got some of the guests before I managed to kill him." Fury seems a little distant as he speaks, not particularly paying attention to Oriasta. When he finishes, he does bring a hand down to his side, feeling one of the injuries he took in the battle.

[MrPrim]

”Got them? Do… do you mean killed?” she asked, her eyes wide.

Oriasta watched Fury’s motions: not quite a grimace but still an indication of pain. ”Oh, I'm sorry... Are you hurt?” she asked, reaching for the vine-encrusted staff leaning against a nearby wall. As she reached out to it, it reached out to her, vines of tiny red roses twining over her arm and beginning to glow with a warm sort of light. "Let me see, maybe there's something I can do."

[Gargulec]

The Visits

The Wandering Eye shrugged, not reacting as for the remarks regarding her means of producing gossamer, not willing to discuss them in the slightest.

'Your call, Lord' she nodded, moving the chair back to the alchemy benching and beginning to gather the tomes and implements strewn around on the floor 'it is a byproduct for me, if you find this name fitting, so be it. I shall start preparing the first batch as soon as possible, then.'

'How obedient!' Alveua complimented, smirking. 'Now, you really choose your furniture well, Bartrand...' the jab, as offending as it was did not even draw the attention of the ancient fey-blood, so the demon just frowned, and turned her back on her, flexing and yawning. 'So, let us not disturb, Bartrand... and just wait' she smiled widely, her words suddenly honeyed 'for our little prize to be delivered, so we can...'

Fitting in with the classic laws of drama, a small eel-like creature suddenly materialized mid-air, on the level of the Keeper of the Forge of Night's nose, and squealed quietly, as if in pain.

'A message?' she muttered in surprise, cusping her hands below the strange being. It spasmed, shrieked loudly and vomited blood into Alveua's hands. Quickly, maybe even anxiously, she raised her palms to her mouth, pouring the still-warm gore down her throat. For a brief moment, a red mist covered her eyes, but it faded in almost an instant.

'What?' she shrieked a second later, her composure shattering like a pane of glass, sending sharp shards everywhere around. 'I am surrounded by incompetent idiots, I would appear...' she added after a moment, after calming a bit. 'But whoever it was, whoever got that King-damned Zsofika before me, I swear, I shall have him at my anvil before the Callibration comes...' she turned to the Twilight, her face stern, voice deadly serious, dripping with spite. 'I'll be counting on your help, Mar. I will not allow other to steal my prizes.'

[Volthawk]

Fury goes quiet for a moment, then nods, a response to both questions.

"Don't feel bad, though. Punch and I could deal with it, and we were the Exalted there. You're not a fighter, we are."

[Zoronos]

The Visits

Bartrand Mar raised an eyebrow at the demoness' sudden outburst. He sighed and placed a hand on her shoulder, attempting to abate her rage. "Patience dear, patience. We know nothing about who or what got to Zsofika before your minions. Until we know that, we'd be running in blind. I'm not all that handy in a straight on fight, so if someone took her by force there's not much I can do about it."

With his free hand, Bartrand pulled a book from his shelf and flipped it open. A few seconds of leafing through it brought him to the proper page. "Is there a pressing need for haste? Calibration is in less than a month, at which time I can simply use Sorcery to summon and bind her, then she'd be easy to render down into whatever form you required."

He paused for a moment and set the book on the table, before wrapping his other arm around Alveua's waist. "You know I am happy to assist you in any way I can. If something caused her to slip your net once , that means we must be doubly careful and precise the second time, since she'll have been already alerted. Do we know anything about who might have taken her?"

[MrPrim]

Dragon

”Oh,” Oriasta muttered, turning away from the Lunar for a moment, ”That’s… I’m so sorry.”

There was a long pause and then a little in-take of breath, and then the goddess turned back to Fury. ”If you take off your clothes and let me see your wounds, maybe I can help. I [i]am[/] a deity of the forces of life, after all.”

[Dragnar]

Things Lost and Broken
Jania sighed, shaking her head at the response. "Unfortunately, I did promise to look for this fool of a solar... If this alchemist of yours thinks it too dangerous, I will turn back. But I do at least have to try." Well, this little sidetrip was getting worse and worse with each new fact. Hopefully she wasn't in too far over her head here... "Could you show me the way to him? I'd like to get this over with quickly."

[Gargulec]

The Visits

The demon gritted her teeth, the frown stuck to her face.

'I have no idea who did that' she admitted, fury starting to rise behind her voice. 'My servants, they were informed by one of your ilk, the so-called Bringer of the Green Down... and that baffles me'.

Nimbly slipping from Mar's grasp, she stepped towards the stairway upwards, motioning the Solar to go with her.

'I did not know that she had any enemies, maybe barring Lucien' for some reason, mention of the Guardian of Sleep made her chuckle mirthlessly 'But that knife-nut does not wage wars, and if it was him that went after her, we would all know a month in advance, at the very least.'

She stopped on a platform mid-way through the stair-case, looking outside the narrow, high window. The little creature that delivered her a message was still squirming in her fingers, trying to break free, but to no avail.

'In all honesty, what they have seen I would have labelled as Octavian's work without a second thought' she mused, stroking the weird creature, which only seemed to aggravate it further. 'But the Quarter Prince went out of the picture. Such a terrible shame, by the way.'

She raised her palm outside, letting the messenger go - but instead of flying away, it just lunged at the hand that held it, biting deep into it. Unpleasant, sucking sounds followed.

'I apologize for that outburst' she muttered very quietly... and that the last thing one would expect from her. 'I just need azoth, I really, really do, Bartrand... do you have any idea how much havoc has your very appearance caused?'

The creature finished its ugly feast, squealed in joy and with a wet, popping sound just disappeared.

'Of course, you may not see any difference, when you look at the City' she continued to speak in that lowered, calmer voice of hers 'of course, many of us do not realize that, too, but beneath that carnival, beneath all our petty struggles, beneath all that politics, there is something' she turned back to the Brass Spider, and there was no frown on her face - just an expression of an unease. 'But the change is coming, and no one knows what form it will take. So we all race to finish our plans, grand and little before it strikes at us, and it all comes crumbling down... and you know what is absolutely worst?'

For a long moment, she remained silent, looking at you very carefully.

'It is not even that change, it you' she uttered finally, with a mixture of fascination and disgust underlined with sheer terror 'you...' her voice broke suddenly, as if the words she was saying were too heavy for it too carry. 'You come here all of sudden, bring your life and mortality under the Green Sun, and now the revenge of our Lords no longer holds any meaning, no longer we can feel oppressed by your kind... and, and, and...' it appeared that she was having troubles with expressing what she feeling 'and I look at you, Bartrand, and just feel as if I need to stay close to you, to... the things we have all considered lost, when we were plunged here, but you bring them again, wanting or not. It... it can't be good for us.'


Things Lost and Broken

'Oh, it will be my utmost pleasure to lead you there' the demon agreed gladly, if not wantonly. Having finished delivering the information, she no longer held back at ogling the Artistan before her with lust-lit eyes. 'But we have to wait on that companion of yours, don't we... that gives us some time to kill, right?'

Whatever barriers she had raised around her inflamed desire to deliver the knowledge she had as professionally and calmly as she only could, they had been broken by that quit chat in the back alley, and she no longer saw any need to hold back. She looked at Jania with her black eyes, a single plea visible too much in her eyes.

'It is not like there is anything to do here, you know' she mumbled, desperately trying to sound inconspicuous 'it is a...' there was a sharp cry of man being murdered not far from where the pair was standing, followed by a truly mad gout of laughter 'well, you know. Beside, really... uh...'

She spoke no more, just gazing at the Jadeborn, asking in silence.

Meanwhile, at the tavern, the Dragon-King hissed once more.

'You throw threats without anything to support them, essence-carcass' the words he spoke were accompanied by deliberately slow tightening of the grip on the daiklave, his massive tails starting to flail slowly.

If any of them had the inclination to turn around, they would notice that the patrons left the tent in a really hurry, quietly thanking any god or Yozi they could think of for the fact that the saurian moved from the only way out. Only one remained, drinking, unmoved by the struggle of will and word between the Dragon-King and the Abyssal.

'No need for violence!' the little fire duck suddenly jumped between you, the fires on her head launching a bit higher, a bit hotter 'You want to kill yourself over it? We have to find Lady Arianna first!'

'He is a monstrosity! An abomination in the face of Sol!' strangely, it appeared that the anklok was explaining himself to the elemental.

'You promised to help' she retorted calmly and quietly, forcing a long and annoyed hiss out of the the Dragon-King's chest.

'Fine' he snarled, putting the weapon back. 'Let us find that essence-human companion of yours. And mind... I have my eye on you.'

[DaWrecka]

Things Lost and Broken

"Quite," murmured the Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies, slowly loosening his grip on the hilt of his own blade, making a mental note about the fire duck. She could control the dragon king? This little elemental could prove... useful. "And fear not, dragon king... the feeling is mutual."

The deathknight allowed the dragon king to take the lead as they left. If it DID come to blows, a position behind the saurian could only be helpful...

[Zoronos]

The Visits

Bartrand followed as the demoness slipped out of his arms, and headed for the stairs. Bringer of the Green Dawn... he had heard that name before. An Eclipse, wasn't it? Maybe a Dawn caste. Bartrand wasn't positive. He was a warrior, and rode an Agatae, Bartrand knew that much. If a Solar was mixed up in this business, it was doubly dangerous to run headlong into without more information.

Standing at the window, Bartrand waited patiently for the demoness to finish, and put his arms around her again. "You still haven't said what you need Azoth for, but you know whatever it is I will help you find it."

Bartrand paused again, taking a moment to look into the small demon's eyes. His voice was quiet and soothing, as if trying to placate her fear, confusion and rage, all at once. "I was here a few months before the Exodus, remember? I saw the demon city as it was before the change. I know the change is scary and dangerous. It's dangerous for us too; so many humans and exalts, gone, maybe forever. And you're right, the change isn't done; we've only seen the first waves of it. There is a great tide still growing, looming over us all. It will just be a matter of seeing what survives when it crashes ashore, and what it leaves behind when it rolls back out to sea. But we'll get through it, you and I, and we'll build something greater from whatever it leaves behind."

Bartrand took in a deep breath before continuing. He did his best to exude a quiet confidence, even if he wasn't sure if he felt that confident himself about the future. He smiled down at the demon as he continued. "A lot of things are lost now, and not just for you and the other denizens of Malfeas. Everyone has lost a lot these last few months; things that we all thought would endure forever are gone. The things we've all relied on, the constants of our existence, for human and demon alike, have winked out. We will have to make a new way for ourselves, together. Human, demon, Exalt, Yozi, everyone is in this mire together, and I don't think any of us know for certain where the tides will carry us in the next few years. We just have to hold together, both of our kinds, because that's all we can do. We're not nearly so different as we once were, now. We've all lost our homes, and we're all in a strange and new landscape. The demons have had their home changed by our arrival, and we lost our old home, and are trying to build a new one here. The only way we're going to survive is by working together. There is so much potential in this place now, it would be a terrible waste to squander it all."

[Dragnar]

Things Lost and Broken
Jania was silent as well for a moment, turning slightly red as she tried to come up with a decent response. A few moments later her expression cleared up as she turned around to head back to the tavern, nodding slightly to herself as she turned. "This is... not the best place for that. For now, lets just go find the big lizard and get going. There will be, er, plenty of 'time to kill' later. Once we are out of Port Wrath."

Not waiting for an answer from the demoness to screw her plan of 'avoid the problem' up, she walked back to the tavern quickly to locate her... traveling companions.

[Gargulec]

The Visits

Alveua nodded, still looking outside, her eyes set on the some point on the distant horizon, beyond the squat city sitting at the feet of the tower, somewhere beyond the thick, acidic clouds that shrouded the sky.

'Perhaps' she whispered finally, her voice as shaky and unsteady as the soft breeze that blew through the window. 'Perhaps' she put a hand on the window's edge, her white skin clearly cut against the black stone of the wall. 'But is something more than that' the words were bitter, the opened palm curling into a fist 'something I can't express, something I can only see through a mirror, darkly, but it is, it just is... somewhere out there, looming on the horizon, waiting' she sighed heavily, turning to Mar 'I am tasked with works I don't understand, I am seeing portents that make no sense but speak of the worst possible omens... Bartrand, something is coming, not a change, no, not even an uproar, but a catastrophe, a cataclysm...'

Once more, she sighed, smiling in sadness, stroking one of her little horns with a hand - a tic, maybe?

'It must sound strange, coming out of my mouth' she admitted, and there might have been a bit of embarrassment in that admission. 'But that Creation you have lost? I remember the days when it was being forged, when it was pristine, and, Bartrand, I never really hated it. I just wanted it returned to the ones who rightfully owned it. But, well, that is no more. So... if it comes to it, please, keep what little remains from being destroyed, consumed. Please.... And don't you dare to mention what I have said to anyone, do you understand?!' she added, angry all of sudden - but obviously, more at herself, than at the Twilight.


Things Lost and Broken

It was hard to imagine a way for Jania to hurt the neomah's hopes and desires. The demon recoiled, sorrowfully sighed and looked at the Jadeborn one final time, as if hoping that somehow that desperation-filled gaze could turn the Artisan's mind from things of importance to things of pleasure... but alas, it did not come to pass.

Artificer almost bumped into her companion as soon as he left the emptied tavern, with the anklok (again caring the little elemental on one of wide shoulders) trailing behind him in an ominous silence.

'So, them?' the neomah guide nodded, wrapping the white cloak tightly around herself. 'Come.'

She tried to sound professional once more, she really did, though it was quite hard to take her entirely seriously given how she had problems averting her, large, round eyes from Jania. That did not seem to impair her ability to navigate Port Wrath, thankfully, ably leading you through narrow alleys between tents, small, cramped plazas where merchants of all degrees of shadiness tired to market their goods by out-shouting each other, through main arteries crowded with the unique mixture of demons, humans, demon-bloods and maddened preachers trying to sway the den of villainy Port Wrath was back to the path of righteousness, whatever it was. In a mimicry of Malfeas' own streets, the music was playing loudly, a few bound katalinae and angylkae accompanied by a dozen or so humans beating into drums... but in the contrast with the streets of Demon-City, the music here was pure dissonance, there was no brass walls to beat to the rythm of the drum, there was no crazed crowd of demons to dance, dance the pain away. The clangour here was just... out of place, an usurpation of something that did belong to such a wretched imitation of the true malfean glory.

The neomah turned sharply, leaving the main street, into a side alley as derelict as the one she used to talk with Jania. Only a single tent stood there, brown and reeking of smoke.

'Here' she said, pointing at it 'I'll be waiting for you back at the tavern.'

And so, you have entered.

It was dark inside, only source of light being the narrow daylight falling through the opening... but you needed no light to feel what was inside. The heavy scent of alchemical reagents, herbs... the heat of a small fire and bubbling of a cauldron over it... the rhythmic music of mortar and pestle.

'Oh, customers!' a pair of eyes gleamed in the darkness, accompanied by a husky, elderly voice. 'How may I be of service to you, good friends?'


Tea at Amalion's

The dark-skinned hunter hunter gave Rose a withering, but also surprised look, somehow... reinforced by the ambient music of the angylkae.

'Why does it come to your mind, Ashbringer' there was both irritation at offence done to her and some sort of genuine horror 'that I would abandon her, or allow any harm to her when I stand just to her side?'

She turned to Vana, bowing slightly.

'She will need no guards' she announced profoundly, coming a few steps towards the eerily silent, motionless angylake, putting an arm on her shoulder and shoving the guards aside with the other. Without a word or whimper, the harpist suddenly burst into motion, embracing the Kite Flute tightly, pushing her face into the huntress side in a manner of a child at her parent's side. 'As you can surely see' she added, a thin smile appearing on her face despite everything that happened to her or to her progeny 'she knows that I protect.'

And so, with that vaguely heart-warming sight in your minds, you took the road that was presented to you.

The tower - your destination - was quite far, but it was hard to mind that, for the road was more than pleasing. To be honest, you found it hard to remember the last time such a splendid, and yet still peaceful and harmonious view was presented to you.

It almost seemed as you were walking through a stage of some strange, yet magnificent play. The grinding of the little pebbles beneath your feet synchronized with the faint rustle of the verdigrass leaves of the towering, brazen trees, the light of Ligier filtered down by thin clouds, softened yet still striking ...

Even knowing that part of the splendour here had to be an illusion - for it was impossible to believe that the plain of emerald grass around spread into the horizon, and further into infinity. But it seemed so, certainly, with nothing to obstruct the view, only endless flowers arranged into circles within circles, paths twisting into labyrinths. Your eyes moved from one bush to another, unwittingly following yet another patter of power. Even the way you observed had been planned and arranged.

Truly, it was a temple of order.

More guards awaited you in silence at the tower's entrance. From up close, you could see all the little engravings in the white walls, telling the stories of Age of Glory, of the infinite grace of the Empyrean Chaos... and more, more, more, all of them not only crafted with a mastery beyond mortal understanding, but also altering the essence flows ever so slightly.

The massive door swung open in perfect silence as you were approaching, the guards to the sides presenting their arms in, a pair of other demons - green-clad valets directing you inside.

The chamber you were led to was, oddly, exceedingly simple. A single fireplace in the wall, with a few pieces of brass cracking and burning, filling the room with a pleasant heat, a single wooden table and chairs around it, a small painting - a quick sketch of some distant landscape hung above the door... nothing more. It was bare, the naked walls so dissonant with the infinite glory outside. And still... somehow cozy, pleasing. There was something inside that made you want to stay there, and never move away.

'Be seated' the valets bowed together, moving the chairs for you 'relax, Lady Amelion shall see to you soon.'

Bowing again, they departed, leaving you alone - but for just for a short while. Soon, light footsteps echoed through the corridor, and the host appeared in the doorway.

You could not tell much about how she looked, though, even as she stood right before you with a tray full of cookies and mugs of tea. Wearing a simple, modest dress, one that would fit a commoner, not a noble, she shed the aura of hospitality and familiarity - but also of mystery, for her face was hidden from you, veiled with meticulously embroidered velvet, as out of harmony with her dress as the chamber you were inside was, compared to the rest of the manse.

'Oh!' she spoke, laying the tray on the table before you, her voice the one of a good aunt 'I'm so glad you have arrived without much harm... the roads are full of dangers this days, are not they?'

She sat down, and judging by the tilt of her head, looking at the tray, waiting for you to take a mug and cookie - and truth be told, the temptation was hard to resist, given how everything coming from under an Unquestionable's hand is a work of wonder. The cookies were not an exception.

'So, how are you, friends?' she asked, innocently and with a true care.

[Zoronos]

The Visits

Bartrand smiled at the demon's angry outburst, and couldn't stop himself from laughing, regardless of the seriousness of the matter. Her mannerism struck him as innately amusing; that she would grow angry at the idea that someone might realize she didn't hate everything about Creation. Bartrand sighed before he continued, "If there's another cataclysm, we'll weather it. We got through the first one, we'll get through the next. It will be all right." Bartrand smiled, and his tone became more lighthearted. "The world's already ended once; it can't very well blow up twice."

Bartrand paused to recollect himself, and resume his calm and soothing demeanor. "If you have works you don't understand, or whatever it is you need the Azoth for, you should tell me about them, and maybe together we can figure it out. If we intend to survive this cataclysm you've foreseen, then we need to work together. But I know we can get through it, whatever it is."

Bartrand paused for a moment, and spoke softly, "We'll keep whats left of Creation safe, don't worry. It will take time, and a lot of hard work, but I won't let it all disappear. There's still a chance to save it, and given enough time, rebuild it. We'll preserve all that we can for now." Bartrand smiled brightly and laughed, "And don't worry, I won't tell anyone. That would ruin your image as a terrible and evil overlord, and we can't have that, now can we?"

[Volthawk]

"Yes...that would be good..."

Fury then starts to take off his armour, which takes an incredibly short time that it's size would make it appear, due to its moonsilver construction, revealing his normal skin underneath, very muscular with the moonsilver tattoos of a Lunar running all over it. This was the first time for a while - since his initiation and tattooing into the Silver Pact - that he was unarmoured and in his human form around others, and he did feel a little uneasy, although that feeling was dulled by the injuries from the battle.

[Dragnar]

Jania gave the Neomah a sad smile as she left, the demon's unhappiness about this obvious. Well... maybe it wouldn't be too bad to do what she wanted, after this was over. "Don't worry about it, we'll be back before too long."

Stepping into the tent, she gave the figure a quick bow and cut straight to the point, reciting the order the neomah had mentioned. "Hello. We're hoping to make this a short trip, if possible. I'll just need... five ounces of ground hematite, and a rod of red jade."

[MrPrim]

”Oh… oh my….” Oriasta muttered as the Lunar undressed, her eyes round, her mouth slightly open.

”Those… those wounds are terrible!” she added, after a moment, stepping forward with her staff and brushing her free hand along Fury’s torso, avoiding the obvious wounds but still feeling the life pulsing beneath his skin. ”This, this will take some time,” she muttered, more to herself more than anything.

”Come,” she said, standing and striding across the room – removing the towel from around her head on the way. ”Shoo,” she muttered to a trio of potted lilacs sitting on a table. Cowed, the little plants hopped off the table and into another room, ”Come here and lie down,” she muttered, tying her long and now dry red hair up in a bun to keep it out of her face, ”We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

At this point, it would be perfectly acceptable for me to go onto a long, quasi-pornographic tangent, involving Oriasta, naked, touching and rubbing Fury’s partially clothed form. Perhaps I would focus on describing her caressing him, green light pouring from her staff and down her long, slender arm and into Fury’s body as she touched and rejuvenated him. Perhaps I would talk about the long hours of extreme closeness, their bodies nearly entwined. Perhaps I would pepper the post with double entendres, likely associated with the words “grow”, “wood”, and, oddly enough, “bacon”.

But that’s all exceedingly silly.

”Fwoo,” Oriasta said, stepping away from the table and leaning against a wall to support herself, her essence spent and exhausted*.

It’d been over two hours of Oriasta’s tender ministrations and Fury’s body was nearly uninjured – save for one wound, a terrible green-tinged wound, one that would take most of a night for her to heal, and weeks to heal on its own. Perhaps later.

”Was it good for you?“ she asked**, ”Do you feel better.”

*I could not resist. I am a teenager at heart.

**Not even a teenager. A tween.

Using my Staff of Life Unbridled (i.e. Wound Mending Needles) to Heal Fury. My analysis, according to his sheet, says he has 1A, 10L, and 1B damage at this time. It will cost me 31 motes, and take two and a half hours to cure all but the Aggravated (the Aggravated will take an extra day to cure). I also need to pass a Medicine+Perception test, with a Difficulty of 1.

[roll0]

Passed it!

[AmberVael]

Tea At Amalion's

"Indeed, while much was beautiful, there moments that were appalling and concerning. I am glad to see that you maintain peace and beauty within your home, however. Your manse is truly a incomparable work." Vana replies, rising to give Amalion a curtsy. She obligingly takes advantage the offered refreshments- after all, how often did you get a chance to eat perfect food?

"I am Vana, of the Smoldering Mantra. My companions are Tewi Issindei, Withered Rose of the Frozen Wastes, and Isrukam." As she introduces each of them, she gestures to them, though Vana expects that Amalion knows each of them already. She did not consider that reason to eschew the introduction, however. "We come as representatives of the Oasis, to beg your blessing. Though they will only be pale imitations of your perfected art, Oasis desires to raise its own manses, but we can only begin with your consent.
"But, regardless of the outcome of our negotiations, I would like to add that it is a pleasure to enjoy your hospitality." The entertainer adds with a smile.

[Flare]

Rose inclines her head at Zsofika. "Can never tell with a Huntress." she replied, before turning on her heel and walking down the road.

She did not speak as the group continued along the path, only enjoying the scenery. In some ways, she felt like she would disturb the beauty of the place i she spoke, for her voice was not as harmonious enough to grow with this area, so instead the Deathknight was silent.

When Amalion appeared, bearing the tray, she sat on a couch nearby, leaning back and extending her legs- glad to be off her feet.- She placed her sword at her side, leaning against her legs, while she held a cookie in one hand. "...They are not so dangerous, Lady Amalion." she stated. "And my name is Rose, not the pretentious title gifted to me.

[Sallera]

Tea at Amalion's

Tewi rises smoothly as Amalion enters, offering a practiced bow and waiting for her to take a seat before resuming his own. Formalities observed, he gladly takes a mug of tea and a cookie; he would hardly refuse his host's hospitality at the worst of times, but in this case, accepting is far from a chore. He takes a moment to appreciate the tea in silence, observing Amalion's vague reflection in the liquid. He is tempted to judge her place properly, as he had Alveua's servant, but she might well be able to sense that from him, and it would no doubt be seen as rather rude.

From the first impression, Amalion was not one to worry overmuch about formalities, and while it would be unwise to rely on that, he follows her lead, content to speak of small matters before they moved to negotiations. "Spoken from an elevated perspective, I believe," he says, with a nod to Rose and a small smile. "There are certainly dangers to be found wherever one cares to look, but I think we have all of us grown somewhat practiced in dealing with them. My journeys through the city rarely fail to be interesting, and today's was exceptional mainly in the wonders at its end." He indicates the manse with a small motion of his hand.

[Volthawk]

Fury lies back for a few moments longer, before getting up and walking over to Oriasta, taking her hand.

"That was amazing. Thank you. I owe you one."

[MrPrim]

Oriasta smiled, her cheeks turning that lavender-blush shade that she seems to do so well. Squeezing the Lunar’s hand and then patting him on the cheek, she flashed a white smile, ”You’re welcome, it was my pleasure. Of all the strange visits I've had today, this has certainly been the most pleasant.”

Oriasta stretched her arms and yawned slightly, moving away from Fury and crossing the room again. ”Hold on right here,” she said with another one of those white smiles. She pushed aside a gauzy sort of curtain and stepped out of the glass-walled room, deeper into the sanctum. Fury had hardly started to look around when Oriasta returned, finally wearing clothes again.

Of course, what she was wearing was diaphanous, toga-like, and bared so much skin she almost seemed more naked with it on, but still clothes. She was also carrying a clay cup and when she handed it to Fury, he saw that it contained a small amount of water. ”Here, I thought you might be thirsty,” she said, ”I’m sorry, I’d love to hang around and help you with that other wound, but this endless day is beginning to wear on and I’m supposed to go meet a dragon about…, Oriasta made a vague hand motion, ”Something or other. You can come along if you’d like, I don’t think the dragon would mind an Exalt tagging along, but I’m sure it’ll be boring. God business, you know how it is.”

[Gargulec]

The Visits

Of all the things Alvuea could have done, laughter was the least likely.

And yet, she laughed, loud, ringing sound echoing through the corridors of the manse bound to her, making the demons shrivel in fear and joy, deepening the shadows, stoking the forge-fires higher and hotter. It lasted a long while, the music of her voice clinging to the walls long after she herself stopped laughing, and just stood there, listening to the echoes of her own happiness, smiling, perhaps the first time in a long while with a true serenity on her face.

'For some reason, Bartrand' she chuckled, as the last notes of the sound faded back into darkness 'for some reason, I...'

There was a long, long pause, the demon standing still as if the time stopped for her, the shadows around her feet coiling and dancing. And then, in a sudden pulse, they surged towards her, shrouding her in most fine blackness.

'...I believe you' she declared profoundly, closing her eyes and lowering her head. 'We will make it through, together' and that, on the other hand, was more of a plea than a statement, a hidden prayer for good fortune. 'We will make it through.'

Light on her feet, she nimbly danced to the Solar, embracing him tightly.

'It was a pleasure to pay you a visit, Bartrand' she smirked 'but now, I must go, attend pressing matters. But I will be back for supper, so be so kind...'

Offering a slight bow, she allowed the shadows surrounding her to lash at her, tear her visage apart into thousands of gleaming-black cicadas. The swarm buzzed silently, and flew through the window, towards the fabled Forge of Night.

Finally, the Twilight found himself alone, headed towards his chambers above in the tower.

The scent of Alveua still filled the air there, the disordered sheets on the bed, a glass knocked to the ground by accident all reminding of her presence. And there was something else there, too. Some Mar was pretty sure he has not seen there before.

In the middle of the bed, a scroll was lying, bound with red ribbon and sealed with cobalt wax, a simple coat-of-arms that could have belonged to any number of Solars or Dragon-Blooded in Oasis pressed into it.

The waxen seal broke easily, the message unfurling. It was... a single Old Realm character, caligraphed with an unsurprassed skill, the lines elegant and simple, yet complex and labyrinthine if one looked closely enough; a secret hidden from the view of the undeserving.

It read "crown".

But there was more to it, Mar realized as he observed the complex sigil, there was a message with a message there, one addressed at him... so easy to read after it had been noticed.

'Honoured peer' it read 'if you value the enduring of the humankind, grace me with your presence at the Cracked Tower at the first tomescu's howling.

-Regent of the Fallen Kingdom

The Twilight knew the name and the place: it was a manse in the Slagheap, belonging to a reclusive Eclipse-caste said to be a former kind or regent of some nation in the Hundred Kingdoms.


Invitation
Punch

Min was snoozing quietly, her face pressed into Punch's side, green light gleaming on her silver hair. Only asleep, she seemed serene, but even then, the dark stain on her hand, a shadow melded with her skin, one that drank light as eagerly as it sucked life itself out of everything it has touched reminded the Solar that the wedding changed his wife...

It was not obvious change, no fundamental turnaround. No, the metamorphosis was hidden in the small details, in her voice that suddenly turned bitter at times, in her large eyes that sometimes, just sometimes allowed themselves to be shrouded with spite and malice, with the endlessly repeated katas, the martial training that seemed to have no end for the Lunar, as if she wanted to instantly master the arts of the Celestial Lotus.

And yet, apart from that, she was the same Min, happy, easily flustered, shy and silent... only that now, after the wedding, she had started to cast a true shadow. It was hard to say if it was the change for better, or for worse.

But it was hardly the time for such musings, anyway. The night has just ended, and it was a busy night, too... a blissful one.

There was something lying on the table next to the bed, something that had not been there before - a scroll, tied with a crimson ribbon and sealed with a golden wax.

Should the Solar reach to it and break the seal, he would find a single character scribed inside with a skill that surpassed understanding: "crown". And inside of the single character, he would find a message, too.

'Honoured peer, if you value the enduring of the humankind, grace me with your presence at the Cracked Tower at the first tomescu's howling.'

-Regent of the Fallen Kingdom

Punch vaguely recalled Regent - he was an Eclipse that paid a few visits to the Bartertown not long ago, purchasing esoteric, sorcererous components - and information, regarding mostly the whereabouts of the Exalts in the Oasis.

[Zoronos]

The Visits

Bartrand thought over this strange icon for a minute. Then he thought about dinner. A nice Cobb salad, and maybe some Chicken Parmesan... wait, those didn't go together. Okay, scratch the Cobb salad, something fancier. Something with a romaine lettuce. Wait, the letter, yes. He'd think about what to cook for dinner later.

Bartrand hastily pulled on his nice overcoat, and headed downstairs, the letter tucked in his pocket. He hailed down Marantheus, who still looked a little worse for the wear from his trip down the stairs last night that Alveua facilitated. "Marantheus! Alveua will be joining us for dinner. Begin preparing an appropriate feast. Something from the river provinces."
Bartrand paused, realizing the demon was looking at him with a completely vacant expression. Oh, of course, the demon had no idea what 'river provinces' cuisine was. "The brown cookbook, third shelf, on the left. Start with page 183. If I am back in time, I will work on something myself, but just in case, I want to have a great meal ready."

Bratrand dusted his hands off or rather made the gesture of doing so. Again, there was no dust in Malfeas. Just the occasional brass shaving. He raised a finger in the air. "Anyway! I have an important meeting to attend. Fetch my Agatae from the stable!"

The demon smith looked self conscious for a moment, and wrung his hands before answering. Looking left and right, as though something might jump at him at any moment, the demon piped up, "Ummm... I'm sorry sir, but that Agatae is gone... we rendered it down last night for Chalcanth, like you told us."

Bartrand stood back for a moment, briefly befuddled. "Well then! Bring me the backup Agatae!"

The demon nodded rapidly, apparently happy that Bartrand had not chosen to blame the smith for rendering the wrong Wasp. Bartrand took a moment to write a note for Alveua, in case she returned while he was gone, and tacked it to the board where he always left such things. That done, Bartrand strode out the front door, and after a few minutes, with a quiet buzzing, the Agatae came into view from around the tower. The wasp settled in front of him, and made a soft purring noise by rubbing its wings together. It nudged him with its head slightly, indicating it wanted him to get on. It vaguely reminded Bartrand of a cat. A giant insectile cat that you rode around, but a cat regardless. With a swing of his leg, he hoped astride the wasp, and sailed for the Eclipse's palace.

[Gargulec]

Things Lost and Broken

Jania's question hung in the air for a long while, the pair of gleaming eyes observing the entire group very carefully, and very studiously.

'That' the voice husked finally, the words as feeble as the man speaking them 'is most unfortunate, honoured customers.'

With a silent hiss, a small lantern was lit, illuminating the interior with a weak, dancing lights. The alchemist looked just like his voice sounded - a withered husk of a man, his skin brown, his long beard dark-grey. Only his eyes seemed life-like, wary and quick.

'It would appear that I am out of jade' he muttered, looking at the flame before him 'difficult to come by, lately. Not a good place to seek it, yes.'

Accompanied by the sound of his bones creaking, he stood up from the faded mat he was sitting on.

'Though, I know of one place where you just might find what you... what you seek' a smirk appeared on his face only to vanish seconds later - yet, you have seen it clearly. 'There is a friend of mine, also alchemist, living in a small hut... kind of a hermit, one could call her, reclusive, tough to find...'

A bout of a dire cough interrupted him mid speech, for a moment making him appear as if he was about to die. But soon enough, he raised hand to show that he is all right.

'...and it is dangerous to go there, alone' he added, passing you a small pouch 'take this. It will aid you in your travels.'

'It is an old story, you are quoting, human' the Dragon-King suddenly snapped in, sounding vaguely amused.

'Ain't we just all, dragon?' the alchemist chuckled in response. 'So, honoured customer' he addressed Jania 'do you still want that haematite?'



Tea at Amalion's

The Unquestionable nods towards each of you as Vana introduces her companions, and listens closely to what you had to say, silent, but curious, allowing you enjoy the tea and the cookies undisturbed.

It would be fitting to describe them both now, but alas, mere words fail to express the divine perfection of the beverage and transcendent delightfulness of the cakes. Truth be told, it would require charms known only to the select few Lawgiver elders to even begin to comprehend the mastery of the one whose hand created them.

So you just enjoyed.

'Your manners impress me' she cheered finally, hearted by the eagerness with which you accepted her humble provisions. 'It is a rare thing in this poor age we live in to see ones as polite and kind as you. I am quite sure that all business we have to discuss will go smoothly with such attitudes!'

A valet came in in perfect silence, bowing before his master and whispering her a few words to the ear. It was obvious that it was just for show, for it was hard to imagine that such a lowly thing could have had delivered Amalion a bit of information unknown to her previously.

'And you have brought Zsofika with you, bound by oath... you do not change, Lawgivers, despite the times' oddly, there was no malice in those words, only a statement of a fact without any emotion other than a shade of amusement. 'Such a poor creature, she is' the good humour in her voice intensified, as if she was about to tell a very funny anecdote. 'Doomed herself for nothing. I wonder how she would react should they tell her that the precious daughter she wanted to save so much that she risked contact with the Chosen she despises is dead now, her body cold, a sharp knife of Lucien's sticking out of her breast... poor, poor thing... not only lose the freedom she treasured so much, but also her little, bright hope, the girl she nurtured and loved.'

No emotion but amusement marred Amelion's voice.


Dragon

There is a path hidden within the verdant Island of Our Benefactors, thin and winding, marked only with odd-shaped stones, cuts on the tree trunks and occasional claw-marks on the ground. It is easy to miss it and equally easy to leave it by mistake or oversight.

But, should one manage to follow it to the end, he would find himself in a truly remarkable place. In the shadow of three rune-scribed pillars, each as high as a tower, a glade, perfectly round, surrounded on all sides by thick and lush vegetation, overgrown with flowers red, blue and emerald in colour, with clear air ever filled with silent murmurs, distant echoes of prayers spoken in hope by those who wanted to bring life back to Oasis.

No creature - mortal or god-like - dared to enter this sacred sanctuary without an invitation, disturb the meditation of the three who dwelt there with their unworthy presence. For truly, if there was a heart to the life of the refugees of Creation, it beat there, to the rhythm set by heavy, slow breath of the three serpents coiled around the pillars.

Each of them was a magnificent sight to behold, breathtaking, even. The Dragon of Fire, slender and powerful, with scales that seemed to burn on their own, the sheer heat of his power lighting the pillar of volcanic glass from within, so that it burned like a torch, bright and warm - yet starting no fire that would be devastating.

The Dragon of Wood, long and serene, the life-giving vines growing from and around her thing, serpent-like body. It was nigh-impossible to say where she ended, and the pillar of ash begun, her scales seemingly blending with her own element - from a distance, one could be forgiven for mistaking her for the most splendours tree he has ever seen. The tip of her tail was buried in the ground, spreading the life that was her essence throughout the entire island.

And the Dragon of Water, wrapped around his pillar of crystal, his long fins glistening in light of Ligier. He was a terror to behold, something in his visage reminiscent of the unstoppable power of waves, consuming the land endlessly and tirelessly. Of all three serpents, it was he who looked most powerful, night-infinite puissance reflecting in the bottomless blackness of his large, thick scales. But most terrifying of all was his eyes, burning with a green glow, his sight so sharp that it was easy to say that it could transfix through almost anything - any lie, any disguise, any half-truth.

And they were set at Oriasta and Fury right now.

'Bow' the Dragon growled in stead of greeting the goddess and the Lunar.

[Dragnar]

Jania accepted the pouch quietly, nodding at the man's answer. She was still not entirely sure that was the answer she had wanted, after the Neomah's warnings... but still, she had to try. "We... Yes, we still want it."

[MrPrim]

Dragon

Bow?

Gods are hierarchal by design. One thing that the Primordials programmed directly into their servitors was an innate understanding and appreciation for their betters. A command from an official and duly authorized superior was more than a mere suggestion; it was an imperative– resistible, but only with effort. A true command resonated.

No compulsion assaulted Oriasta; no feeling of authority enveloped her when it spoke. The dragon’s order was just hollow noise.

But... still....

Her eyes drifted across the three pillars. This was the core of their Oasis, the heart of the Exile community. These three dragons were new elemental poles, seeding their corner of Heaven with the essence of life. The dragons were powerful, more powerful than she, and they deserved respect.

Despite this, despite all of it, she knew in her every mote: they were not her betters.

Oriasta bowed at the waist. ”You wished to see me?” she said, with her eyes cast down.

[AmberVael]

Tea at Amalion's

Vana sips her tea, her face a blank actor's mask. After a moment, she sets it aside and folds her hands in front of her. "I am glad to hear we impress you. I hope others may follow in our example- I am saddened to see the demon city may not be up to the same standards." She says with calm politeness, a pleasant, joyless smile working onto her mask.

"Beauty-" The entertainer begins suddenly, "Is like a vain courtier, dressing in countless outfits to impress those around it. There is beauty in the structure of your work. There can be beauty in tragedy. And... there is beauty in love, is there not?

"It must pain you to know that one more aspect of your city has been darkened, even if there is value to the story it leaves behind." Vana says, her smile falling away. "As an artist in my own way, I understand the value of craftsmanship, of a long labor of love, poured out in an instant. To see the city as it is- it is painful, and it is not even my home. I can only imagine how it must feel to have Zsofika's tale brought directly to your door."

"Perhaps, then, we should turn out thoughts and efforts to contributing to beauty." Come her next words, a soft reassurance. "And to the art you love. The blight of emptiness upon Oasis cannot sit well with you, to see all it contained obliterated. But, it leaves an empty canvas to paint anew. It would be good to see its magic raised high again, in new and wondrous patterns."

[DaWrecka]

Things Lost and Broken

The Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies was confused. It was not a state he enjoyed. He had no idea why the jadeborn had asked for haematite, although jade was a little less-confusing. But why had she not asked about the Solar? He had allowed her to take the lead without any comment beyond a twitch of a muscle that would have been a raised eyebrow on a mortal. But he felt compelled to comment now. He leaned close to the jadeborn and, quietly as his voice was capable, asked as diffidently as he could, "Are you sure you know what you are doing?"

[Flare]

Rose inclines her head. She does not feel sorry for the Second Circle Demon, and simply shrugs. "If the creature did not wish to challenge the Lawgivers, she would not have. Had she asked for help, instead of attacking us, perhaps the result would be different. I do not have sympathy for those who attack us with lethal force, and will respond in the same way. It is rather how the world works, is it not?" she responded. "As for this child of hers, perhaps it is simply better not to tell her. A servant trapped in her tears is no use as a servant. Then again, perhaps it would be better to hunt down Lucian. Regardless, she made her decision, and like all creatures, must live with it." Rose finished, waving her hand. "And you will forgive me for the insult of your hospitality, but she was not the reason we left the Oasis this day, thus it matters little. We came to see you, Lady Amalion."

[Sallera]

Tea at Amalion's

Her daughter? There's a curious tale behind this, no doubt. Perhaps a tragic one indeed, if all she speaks is true. He would have to see if he could get it later, and inform the demon of Amalion's words, despite Rose's objections. For now, it seems the others wish to steer the conversation toward business. Not what he'd have done - in his experience, it was unwise to appear too eager in negotiations, especially when one held no advantage over the other party - but at the moment, it might be best to play along. Still, he couldn't help but suspect their host was testing them somehow.

Tewi tilts his head toward Rose. "Is a contest of skill such a poor way of testing one you seek help from? Resilience is in our nature as conflict is in hers; death would have been unlikely even had she prevailed." Taking a sip of tea, he inclines his head to Amalion once more. "Regardless, we had not intended to bring her here, but we found ourselves in need of a more trustworthy guide after she sent away the one we had hired. My apologies. We did come here to speak of more pleasant matters, ones I hope can bring benefits to all of us."

[Volthawk]

Fury, for his part, remains standing. He wasn't a part of this system that the gods and elementals have, whatever it looked like, so as far as he thought, he didn't need to.

[Gargulec]

Things Lost and Broken

'Wisely' the old man praised Jania, quickly shuffling through a bag of ingredients. 'Here' he passed her a pouch of haematite he had procured. 'Now go' he waved his hand towards the street, resting on his rug again, legs crossed. 'Soon, I might find myself out of this rare resource, and it would be better for you to be far away from here when that happens...'

'Stop speaking in riddles, human' the anklok hissed in response. 'Speak openly, or forever stay your tongue!'

The elderly alchemist, unmoved by the giant lizard verbally assaulting him replied with a shrug.

'Alas' he murmured, but nothing followed. 'Go' and yet, he decided to urge you once more after a short moment 'let the trinket lead you... and beware sharp objects in your back...'

[Dragnar]

Jania accepted the pouch and quickly stepped out of the tent. Breathing a sigh of relief, she opened the first pouch the man had given her to take a peek inside. Hopefully this was worth whatever supposed danger they were going through... "Well, that went about as well as could be expected. I still don't know why so much secrecy is required, but trust that I am following our missing friend's trail."

[Odd_Canuck]

Invitation

Punch exhaled slightly forcefully... those familiar with him would recognize it as a restrained sigh of annoyance. "Excessively dramatic, flowery and slightly threatening" he thought. Some of the other exalted can be so... irritating. If Regent of the Fallen Kingdom wanted to discuss matters with him why not schedule a meeting with some notice? Why not simply send a simple message instead of a protected and teleporting one? But no, that wouldn't involve enough Drama.

Fortunately at least his work is in a state where he can set it aside for a time, but it's still annoying. Oh well, nothing else for it, he should go to the meeting. He should not go empty handed, but the implication would be that it would be a meeting of Peers.

Sending out some assistants to gather some suitable token gifts (Malfean healing balm, Triple distilled demon blood wine blessed by priests of all the Incarnate, Tridectuple purified Arsenic) as well as basic gear needed should the trip take longer than a simple meeting (several of the new MREs and water), Punch explains to Min that there is a meeting he needs to go to with Solars only, and that it might take a few days or even more... and that he would miss her the whole while.

Loading the saddlebags onto Fluffy, his faithful Agatae mount he sets off after a final kiss goodbye with Min.

[Gargulec]

Tea at Amalion's

Amalion's face was veiled, hidden behind a thin layer of silk so fine that one could barely feel it under his fingers, yet more opaque than the shadows cast by the passage of the Dragon. Not a faintest hint of what beauty was hidden beneath passed through. It was, indeed, a perfect concealment for the unspeakable perfection inherent to the soul of the one who once claimed the title of Holy Radiant Is.

And yet, anyone with eyes to see could notice the smile - even though seeing it seemed impossible. It just... was there, of this, you could be sure. But whether it was a peaceful, kind one, or the smirk that heralds malice - that was another story entirely.

'An empty canvas, you say? A blank slate to be written on, a pool of molten brass to be hammered into yet another glorious shape?' she stated more than asked 'yes... appealing, but...'

She made a pause in her speech, timed so perfectly that Rose's remarks fitted right in.

'...I am reluctant to allow some to the brushes and paints, for such a horror they would create. Such beings as those that would hunt Lucien' the words were not even directed at the Ashbringer, as if she was not even present 'or try to steer an Unquestionable from his course of words. Such impudence! Yet, you may consider your humble pleas acknowledged and accepted, I want to see what will you rise in my honour. One of my souls shall attend the proper paperwork, I do not have my head for it...'

A valet nimbly slipped into the chamber, refilling your cups of tea and bringing a fresh plate of cookies for you to use. Curiously, Rose's cup stayed as it was before, the servant apparently not even noticing her existence.

'Yet, despite that boring bureaucracy, would you kindly stay some more?' the demon asked, reaching for her mug finally, the disappearing beneath the veil in a manner both incredibly simple and somehow highly sensual still. 'I long for a good company from time to time.'

The words seemed entirely, perfectly honest - if there were any traps hidden, the mastery in which they were concealed within such an innocent statement dwarfed your ability to detect.

'So, tell me' she begun 'how do you like it in the Demon City?'


Dragon

The Dragon twitched - a sudden jolt through his colossal body as the Lunar stayed upright. His eyes narrowed, the glow within them intensifying until they were like a pair of golden torches drowned beneath the bottomless depths of the ocean. There was a fury in their light, but also something else - something the Full Moon so easily could sense, scent.

Fear.

For as much as the elemental wished to deny it, inside of his serpentine heart, he was afraid of the Celestial Host, remembering that it was within their powers to erase him from existence as easily as he could flatten a blasphemous mortal. And there was no hiding - Oriasta had to bow, but Fury understood that the Dragon had no way of forcing him to bend.

He slithered down his pillar, leaving a trail of life-giving dark water behind, until his massive head was a few inches from Oriasta, eyes looking down upon her. She could feel the air growing damp around him, the overwhelming smell of salted water saturating her robe, the tiny droplets gathering on her face and hair, making them look as if they were covered in a morning dew. He remained such for a few minutes or so, enjoying the sight of a goddess showing him such respect.

'Rise' he commanded finally, retracting. 'And welcome to you, Chosen of Luna. Your presence here is an honour.'

Well, it must be said that he tried to make it sound sincere.

'You will serve, Oraista' the sound of his booming voice suddenly became grating, aggressive - something must have had made him unsure of his own position not long ago. 'Do you understand that?'


Or Better than Kings, Gods
Punch, Bartrand

The Visits scene is ended. Bartrand receive a whole whooping 7XP and a two-dot ally (the fae-blood).

The Slagheap was shrouded in shadows - the city of gloom and dirge, a fitting place for the aristocracy of the fallen world to dwell in.

Massive pillars of brass towered over the squat buildings, over the manses and temples, each of them drowned in darkness of the laws imposed on Creation-born. And even those pillars were nothing compared to the single spire of jet rising so high the the skies seemed to rest on it - and glowing runes, viridian as the sun above dotted it, obvious to anyone who would put his eyes on them.

I, Malfeas, in My infinite grace...

Yes, the Slagheap was a symbol of your condition, it was impossible to deny. Here, God-Kings lived in the darkness of their own failure, ever reminded of the mandate of heavens they once held - and now, only dust and submission remained.

Here, the priests to the Incarnae tended lavish temples raised with the help of the demons of all sorts, understanding perfectly well that the new cathedrals to Sol or shrines to Luna were raised in an image of the magnificent places of unholy worship of the Endless Desert.

Here, the once mighty gods walked wide, empty streets, shaped after the Heaven left behind, looking around only to see pale mimicry and mockery of their former glories. And yet, they had to stay here, for where else would they receive their ambrosia?

Here, the ambassadors of the Yozi dwelt, more for their leisure, to give them such an undemanding joy as an ability to straddle the streets and see gods and man genuflect before them, as to feel as if the Times of Glory were once more - even if as a pale shadow of their former magnificent, diminished reflection. But it was Hell, the Ligier above did allow any to forget about - and everything here was but a twisted image of a true splendour, hateful lament for all things lost. A song that the refugees of the lost Creation had to join.

In the tranquil centre of the Slagheap, were the shadows were thickest, and only the most influential could dwell, where plazas were as large as entire cities, and yet with no crowd to attend them, were statues to the heroes of past went forgotten, a tower stood, almost at the feet of the Spire of Malfeas' Decree. It was a simple arrangement, elegant in its modesty - a manse raised hastily, but skilfully, the flows of vitriolic essence arranged into a mandala around the single brass-and-ivory bastion.

A pair of agate landed at its base almost simultaneously, buzzing of their wings disturbing the stale, thick air. From up close, the manse looked even more ascetic: no murals, no engravings, nothing but black tiles and dark orange of the Demon City's favoured metal. Yet, it was obvious if not for the mountainous parody of the Mount Meru behind, it would have easily dominated the landscape.

At the tower gates, three Solars more awaited, keenly observing their peers dismounting the demonic wasps and approaching.

One of them was fighter, tanned, black-haird warlord, gaunt and handsome, his features sharp so much that they seemed to be cut from granite, instead of week flesh, sharpened by the endless battering of the desert-wind that could erode even jade, given enough time. To his side, a long, curved blade of orichalcium was strapped, cutting clearly from his khaki-coloured vest, well-embroidered and well worn. He appeared as a general recently returned from a victorious campaign, the foes he had vanquished a proof of his ineffability. He was sure of himself, that was obviously visible in his deep eyes, so contended.

To his side, a young woman stood, as her peer dark-skinned (though while the deep colour of his flesh was due to the Sun burning its mark onto his, hers was just a sign of a Southern heritage) and black haired, many dreadlocks falling down on her exposed shoulders - and truth be told, not much of her body was covered, only barest minimum of decency she retained with a loincloth and one more sash wrapped around her chest. Supporting her weight on a golden power-bow, she was looking around warily, but without fear - a sight of a person who always sees the perfect cover, the perfect way out and the perfect spot to deliver a silent death to another.

And slightly behind them, the host was, standing in the doorway. He looked... unassuming, more like a monk than a God-King. His head was bald, adorned with brown and red spots and decolourations, few strands of once-red hair giving his long beard a pretence of colour. His garments were simple as he was old - a single, saffron robe tied with a hempen robe. One would be easily forgiven for mistaking him with an ascetic at the end of his road towards enlightenment. Yet... he was a Quicksilver Falcon, a Chosen of Sun, and his eyes, though peaceful shed an inner radiance of power.

'Welcome, peers' he greeted you, offering a slight bow. The man nodded to you, while the girl remained perfectly still. 'I am glad that you are all here, and hopeful that this meeting will go according to the plan. But...' he raised a hand towards the other Solars 'before we proceed behind those doors, I must ask you one thing' the Eclipse caste-mark sparked into life on his brow 'please, swear in the name of the Unconquered Sun who bestowed his powers to us that nothing you hear, see or decide within shall be made known to anyone outside our circle.'

[MrPrim]

Dragon

Oriasta opened her mouth to respond and then remembered that she didn’t have to. The goddess straightened, one eyebrow raised in puzzlement.

There was deference, there was politeness, but this was something else. ”I shall offer my services in whatever way necessary to help the world,” she stated, water dripping from her wrappings in a most undignified (if very Spring Break-y) way. ”What do you need of me?” she asked.

[AmberVael]

Tea at Amalion's

"You have my gratitude, lady Amalion." Vana replies graciously. "And I would be honored to further partake of your company." She sips her refilled tea with satisfaction as Amalion asks her question, and considers how best to answer, before speaking carefully.

"I have already made it plain that there is much within the city that is discomforting to me. My discomfort is aggravated, however, by the fact that I find much of interest and moments of breath taking awe and wonder. It fascinates me, but I find its beauty tarnished. It is inspiring, and saddening, full of potential that it has not quite reached."

She swirls the tea in her mug absentmindedly, looking off into the distance. "On my way here, however, there was one occurrence that made me think. The joy I inspired among the people, that was real. It was a shining moment of unity, of abandon. It gave me hope. Perhaps there is something I can do in return for what Malfeas has done for me."

A smile coils onto her lips. "I don't doubt some will think me mad for such thoughts."

[Odd_Canuck]

Throwing the sets of saddle bags over his shoulder, Punch offers a slight bow to each of the Exalted while the Eclipse makes his welcome speech.

Raising his left eyebrow exactly 1/16th of an inch he pauses for a moment as if considering the words of the oath.

With a slight nod he extends his hand to be bound by the proffered oath.

[Sallera]

Tea at Amalion's

Tewi winces mentally as Rose is slighted, although he keeps his face clear of concern. That could have gone better. Best repair our relationship while we're still here... not that it's at all a bother to do so. He nods his thanks for the tea.

"My thanks for your generosity, lady Amalion. While I cannot speak for the Celestial Host, I hope that you will have nothing to fear in that regard. The needs of Oasis are such that I think anyone seeking to raise works without constructive intent will be forced to seek elsewhere, as they have until now."

Taking another cookie, he tastes it thoughtfully, taking his time before responding. "I spent my life before the Exodus traveling, carrying messages or seeking treasures in some of the most remote places in Creation. And yet, in a year, I saw not one-tenth the wonders I have seen in three months here. The Demon City fascinates me, as do those who live here. I don't know that I share lady Vana's desire to bring change; then again, there were some rather large gaps in my education." He gives a grin and a shrug, not quite sure what else to say. "I do like it here. At the moment, I am content to explore and learn what I can."

[Zoronos]

Or Better than Kings, Gods

Bartrand swings off of his Agatae, and gives it a pat on the head as its wings rub together in a purring noise once again. Silly little Agatae. It must be so happy that the other one was rendered into Chalcanth, because now it could be his only mount. They were so much like cats; each Agatae wanted all the attention.

He turned towards the other exalts, and raised an eyebrow. "Circle? I was unaware you were my circlemates. My name is Bartrand Mar, and it is nice to meet you all." He looked around at the others, their lack of introductions slightly annoying him. Who was this Eclipse that ignored introductions to launch directly into Oaths sanctified by Sol Invictus? How rude.

Bartrand paused for a moment before extending his hand; the Oath was poorly worded. "There is a hole in your oath, sir. Through our actions, we make our decisions known, if not the source thereof. As soon as we took any action on our decisions, the Oath would break, and we would all feel the displeasure of the heavens. Instead, how about we swear to not speak of, or otherwise in any way actively or purposefully communicate what we see, hear, or decisions we make within to others outside our little circle? I don't know about you, but I'd rather not tempt the heavens wrath through ill-wording." Bartrand extended his hand, ready to shake on the (slightly modified) oath. He had met enough shady merchants on the roads to know better than to sign a contract someone else had written without reading it first.

[Gargulec]

Or Better than Kings, Gods

The Quicksilver Falcon sighed softly upon hearing Mar's remark.

'We are not a Circle, yes' he admitted, extending his hand as well. The palms of the gathered crossed. 'But I did not use this word in this meaning, either... and, well, we were, once, in the Age of Horror.'

Closing his hand, he gave the Twilight a curious look.

'The oaths sanctified by the Sun are of spirit, not letter he remarked 'Worry not, the intent is obvious, and wrath of heavens is not going to befall us... but fine, I admit, your wording is better.'

Suddenly, his anima banner unfurled behind him, a simple geometric composition of a pyramid written into a circle, the Sun shining from the top. You all felt a sharp tug somewhere inside, and for a moment, you hearts fluttered as you became oathbound. The Eclipse exhaled in relief, moving from the doorway.

'Come' he invited you, the doors swinging open on their own, opening onto a dark, spiral stairway. Without a word, he begun his ascent, the rest of the gathered following him closely.

Inside, the tower was a bit less bare - at the least the walls had been painted, and as you were making you way up, to the top, you climbed next to a long, almost never-ending mural that begun with the Shadow of the Dragon proposing the creation of the Unconquered Sun to the Holy Tyrant. By the time the lantern-lit stairway led you to the top, you had witnessed the birth, trials and appointment of the Ignis Divine, and then more - creation of the Daystar, the days of the Primordial War and in the end, by the final step, the Victory over the Primordials Mudra.

You entered a round chamber, as simple as it came to be expected from this Eclipse. There was a single table in the middle, as round as the room it was in, adorned with a simple motif of the laurel branch inlaid in orichalcium on the dark wood. Five chairs surrounded it, hard and uncomfortable, with the backs engraved with long sutras in the Holy High Speech.

'Be seated' your host implored, finding himself a place too. For a moment, only sounds to be heard was the ones of wood grinding against the stone floor. Then, the silence befall the chamber, no one daring to disturb it.

'I believe that introductions are in order' the Eclipse finally spoke up, clasping his seemingly-feeble hands. 'I am Marius, the Regent of the Fallen Kingdom, a Quicksilver Falcon. I have claimed this title, because for all intents and purposes, the Slagheap we currently reside in is mine' there was no bragging in this statement, no change of tone, as if it was the most obvious thing to all of you. 'To my side' he added, nodding towards Punch 'sits Harmonious Jade, an Iron Wolf, the best assassin known to me, and the holder of the reins of by far the most effective web of spies and informers in the Oasis and beyond' the dark-skinned women did not move, her eyes fixated at the laurel branch in the middle of the table. She look like a statue cut of stone, not a slightest twitch coming from her. 'Next to her, there is Bartrand Mar, a Copper Spider' he continued 'overlord of the town known simply as the Darktower, probably the most effective and productive centres of crafting in the Oasis, as well as a peerless craftsman himself. Then, Adam Chikyu, a Golden Bull, lord of the Bartertown, master craftsman and an expert pugilist, as evidenced by his latest exploits, of you which you must have heard. And finally' he turned his keen eyes at the black-haird fighter 'Forsaken Sword, a Bronze Tiger, the unknown sovereign of the Port Wrath, warlord of a sizeable army of demons hidden just outside the borders of Oasis. I welcome you all' he finished the lengthy introduction. 'Forsaken Sword shall explain the reason of this meeting.'

'Indeed' the Dawn Caste smirked. His voice was just as it would be expected of him - sharp, strong, not loud, but ringing in the ears. 'We have all seen what happened to Creation. It was our fault. Not even once, but three times the Celestial Host failed to protect the land given to them in Creation-Ruling Mandate. First, the Usurpation. Then, Balorian Crusde, and finally, the End of the Days. As much as we would want to deny it, on our shoulders rests the responsibility for those catastrophes. This is why we must consider the reasons of our inability to guard and lead' he made a pause, allowing the rest of the gathered to think of what he had just said. 'The conclusion I drew are as follow' he returned to his speech moment later 'the Host is strong when it is as during the War at the dawn of time, united under a single banner and a single goal. But when personal objectives and agendas enter the picture, we tear ourselves apart. The Deliberative of old was the best example of this, but in lesser ways, this tendency reflected itself in the inability of the Silver Pact to take any actions towards the principle of stewardship and in the final days of the Scarlett Empire where, devoid of the firm rulership of the Scarlett Empress, the Realm collapsed under the weight of Terrestrial houses' conflicts. Even worse, we can already start observing petty squabbling and power struggles among the Celestial Host gathered in the Oasis - even if it is the hour of need right now. Thus...'

'...thus, to the five of us' the Regent picked up 'to the five of most influential Lawgivers, ones that hold the reins of power and assets necessary to assert control over the population, I propose to form a secret ruling body, powerful through its contacts, subtlety and influence upon the mortal, Exalted and demon alike, that will take lead of what remains from Creation, from the shadows steering the course of our society so that it does not fall to our weaknesses again. New Deliberative shall be formed, but the real power shall reside within our hands. Already, together, we would be almost unstoppable. I command the Slagheap and a cache of First Age artifacts of uncanny powers recovered from the Cache Egg of my previous incarnation, Adamu and Bartrand are the ones who hold the production and trade, Jade can provide us will all intelligence we need, or remove the obstacles that require lethal force to use and Forsaken Sword not only holds sway over the criminal element of the Oasis, but also commands the unknown armies that can be used in case of an emergency. Those assets combined will give us the ability to shape the history of what remains according to an uniform, greater vision, imposing order over the chaos of disorganized Celestial Host and, in the longer run, over the schemes of the Unquestionables.'

'Not gain' the Dawn spoke again, almost whisper like 'not fame. Not glory. We shall stay in shadows, allowing other legends to grow... but we shall shape them. We shall rule in secret, and thus, we will ensure that Creation survives, is rebuilt and then thrives in a new Golden Age.'

[DaWrecka]

Things Lost and Broken

The Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies grunted. Or at least, his dead throat made a passable imitation thereof. "You are acting on information extracted from that neomah?" he questioned of the jadeborn. Without waiting for a response, he launched another question. "How sure can you be that the demon can be trusted? And assuming it can be trusted, how close are we to the wayward Copper Spider?"

[Flare]

Rose grins at the Demon's statements. Apparently she had misheard her, or some such. If she spent more time talking about how it was better to keep the demon uninformed instead of crying, how would hunting Lucien help at all, other then making the demon wonder why it happened, thus becoming confused? It was as if she spoke in tongues. No matter. She ignored the lack of service, as well, putting the tea down, and waited for the conversation to finish.

[Odd_Canuck]

Or Better than Kings, Gods

"Punch" is declared as Punch places his hand flat against his chest. Bending over and picking up the saddlebags of Stuff, he starts placing them on the table with a declaration of "Minor Gifts. Celebrate new friends. Take as you desire" followed by a gesture towards the assembled collection. The pentagonal placement of items gives an indication of whom he thinks will be most interested in each of the items... Tridectuple purified Arsenic to Harmonious Jade, Healing Balm to the Warrior, Tokens of dock access and services for Forsaken Sword, Alcohol to the Eclipse caste, the crystallized virginity of an 10 century old Neomah for the Twlight as well as a small assortment of other items in the middle of them.

As the others gather whatever appeals (if anything) Punch sits back down, and offers his condensed wisdom on the issue. "Problem: Keeping Secret. Others as good as us find out. Not like it, secret wars start. Wars Start. They oppose all we do in spite."

Lowering his head in thought for a moment, he suddenly looks up, opens his arms wide to indicate everyone in this room and declares "Make new deliberative. Everyone involved. "Community Leaders" steer things." "Police the Powerful." is added with a turn and bow to Harmonious Jade.

[Zoronos]

Or Better than Kings, Gods

Bartrand sighed and leaned back in his chair. He folded his hands together in front of him, across his thing stomach. It rumbled, reminding him that he hadn't finished his breakfast, with all the commotion this morning. He had been getting more gaunt in recent days; the busyness in his workshop was taking more and more of his time, and he had been forgetting to eat meals more often than not. Ironic, given that his manse provided one of the most reliable food sources in the Dross or the Slab. Oh, right, the meeting. Think about lunch and supper later. Supper... right, what was he going to cook? Maybe a nice souffle. No time for that, the meeting!

He leaned forward, placing his hands on the table, still folded together with his index fingers interlocked. "Attempting to 'steer' things in committee will end as all committees and deliberatives end. Squabbling, infighting, and not much getting done, except in back room deals, which means secrecy and secret wars anyway. Playing politics does not avoid wars, it just changes the arena in which they are fought. And they are fraught with just as much death as a shooting war."

Bartrand sighed heavily, and looked down at the orichalcum filigreed table for a long moment before looking back up. "You wish to put a bit and bridle on Legends, a lasso around a meteor of reality-warping power. This is a very dangerous game you propose. We have power now, perhaps. But all our infrastructure and support is transitory. I have read books that tell of the Works of the Solars and Lunars of the First Age. To attempt to guide such things down a path we desire is to try and guide a bull by softly tapping at its flanks. For now, perhaps it would work, while everyone is still weak and trying to get their footing. But that would not last; we Lawgivers get too strong too fast for mere curios to hold dominion over our brethren for long."

Bartrand turned towards Forsaken Sword, "A honey tongued Zenith could turn your entire town and entire criminal enterprise against you in a day, such that every man, woman, and child in the town that was formerly yours would die for her before acceding to another of your commands." He swiveled in his chair to the Eclipse, "Your cache of artifacts would undoubtedly give us a leg up on any competition, but I have already began to puzzle out many of the secrets of First Age construction, and others can't be particularly far behind me. Given a year or two, any Solar, Lunar, or perhaps even Dragonblooded could have an Arsenal of technology."

He signed, and placed his hands flat on the table, "We have power today, this much is true. Power that any mortal and many Dragonbloods would envy. Our control of society as it stands today is quite strong. But the beings you propose to control, they can snatch that away in a heartbeat inside the space of a few years. Everything we have built, they can build. Everything we can do, they can do. We need something far more solid than transitory control over the mortal population of Oasis if we truly intend to shape things from behind the scenes."

Bartrand paused again, and put a hand to his forehead. "I do not mean to belittle the idea as a concept. Far from it, from a high level perspective, I agree with you. That said, while agreeable it may be, I am not sure if it is feasible. In the end, we are 5 against 695. We will need much more leverage that what we have now if we intend to prevail against such odds."

Bartrand's scowl turned into a grin as his hand went to his chin, again running over the stubble left there from his incomplete shave a hour or so prior. "Or, perhaps your original metaphor is more apt. We require the Celestial Host to be as it was during the Old War. What we need, is an enemy for it to throw itself against. Not enough to break it, but enough to keep it distracted, busy, cohesive. They will not look so hard for enemies within while doing battle with enemies without, especially if, say, Forsaken Sword here is their General. Once such a Terrible Conflict was completed, they'd naturally look to their General for continued leadership, having guided them through a trying and dangerous time already. You say you have an army of demons? How large? Large enough to keep the Celestial Host busy for a year or two?"

[Gargulec]

Things Lost and Broken

The thing gleaming from the satchel was a little compass of brass with an arrow of green iron, pointing somewhere Malfeas-wards.

'There is someone watching us' the ankolk cut in 'I can smell treachery and backstabbery in the air!'

Indeed, there was a small crowd now, outside of the tent. Apparently, some sort of a quite illicit trade was going down in this secluded spot, and many came to attend. There were shouts and curses in a few languages. The entire deal looked rather shady, but then again everything in Port Wrath could be described in such words.

'The one in the fancy hat' the Dragon-King muttered, his voice still booming - probably the idea of whisper seemed abhorrent to the massive reptile. 'He is spying on us, hiding something beneath his coat...'

And there he was, a tall, slightly overweight man in an excessively ornate hat, so large that it covered his entire face. He was wearing a tall cloak, too, his hands hidden within. Even with all that cover, it would not take much to see that he was looking right at you.


Also, Perception+Awareness roll from everyone, please.



Tea at Amalaion's

The Unquestionable listened to you closely, thoughtfully, not interrupting you - or maybe just with a nod or two, to encourage you to speak further. She was genuinely interested in your feelings about the Demon City, maybe seeking some fresh, new insight in them, something that would change her own view of the gilded, blooded cage that Malfeas was.

'Tarnished beauty' she mused, repeating Vana words slowly, as if tasting each syllable separately 'yes, that is a good way to describe this place. Beautiful... saddening, yes. But...' she added, puzzled, unsure whether she understood the word properly 'hopeful?'

For a long moment, she just sat there, wordless and motionless. The veil over her face waved slightly, hiding how much did this simple, off-hand statement by a Solar whose name slowly spread through the streets of basalt and woe shake her. Sky outside changed colours, a stiff breeze blew through the grass, moving the perfected order of the manse by a little bit.

'You like it here, vassal of Bostvade?' she finally turned to Tewi, but trace of bewilderment was still so obvious in her voice 'and you are curious, eager to discover the secrets and little stories of our City? That is wise, but remember to keep your curiosity at bay, lest you will draw Orabilis' ire, and that is not something to be taken lightly.'

She took a pause to sip some more tea.

'Thing harpist you saved from a fate that befalls most of the female demons that are not strong to protect themselves or do not have guardians strong enough, she has a name, you know?' she digressed suddenly 'Tiela, I think. Not quite a citizen, but more than a serf, most certainly. She is a companion to one of your kind, an errant Crowned Sun that wanders the City for some time now, gaining fame as the shield of the serfs and others high in the Descending Hierarchy. Maybe you should try to find her, Lady of the Smoldering Mantra... ah, yes!' she exclaimed without much exaggeration 'you got quite a cult already, yes? Many offer their silent prayers to you instead of the Yozis that spawned them, is not that so? If I may inquire, what do they see in you? Punishment? A ruler? Or maybe this peculiar thing you spoke of, hope?'

[DaWrecka]

Things Lost and Broken

The Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies hissed with some anger at the dragon king's warning, Armoursmith's Despair sliding out of its scabbard with a hiss of its own.


Taking a Draw Weapon action, and burning a point of Willpower on the roll;
Perception 5 + Awareness 4 = [roll0] + 1 automatic success
Willpower: ●●●●● ●●x

[Gargulec]

Dragon

The Dragon snorted, contended, small cloud of sea water shooting from his nostrils.

'You know your place' he complimented Oriasta. 'Rare thing for gods, such as you.'

The ease of the goddess' submissions must have had relaxed him greatly. His eyes widened, no longer narrowed to a predatory glance that masqueraded inner weakness. The hierarchy had been preserved once more.

'There is a spirit' the Elemental begun, after a moment of consideration 'a foolish, light-headed nymph that has too much of curiosity for her own. What happened to her was of her own fault only... she had wandered into the desert, for reasons I do not try to discover, and lost her way there, only to be found, captured and abused at the hands of the denizens of the Demon-City!' he growled 'They put her in a cage and on sale, as if she was a thing to be traded to one another... and worse yet, my worshippers' there was an awful lot of stress put on the word "my" 'loved her, as foolish and stupid as she was, and pray to me to save her... this is why I have called for you. You will wander into the so-called Plaza of Weeping and Dismemberment, where she is to be auctioned, and with my authority, you will make her released!'

Fun thing, that beings so powerful and ancient could still be so incredibly foolish.

[Volthawk]

Fury chuckles when he hears what the dragon wants.

"Oh yeah, and they'll be like 'oh no, the water dragon doesn't like what we're doing, we'd better stop'. Fact is they don't care what you think about them. They don't care about we think.

[Dragnar]

Things Lost and Broken
Jania made a quick mental note of the direction, before packing the compass back into it's bag and glancing back at the crowd and the watcher within it. This just couldn't be a simple job, could it...

[roll0]

[MrPrim]

Dragon

”The Plaza of… Weeping and…,” Oriasta muttered without intending to.

The goddess’s eyes went wide for a moment and then she heard Fury laugh and make his comment, and the sheer absurdity of the situation seemed to hit her. Nervous laughter threatened to slip from her but she kept it tightly reigned, only a little quiver of her smile betraying anything.

”While I’d be happy to help Oasis in any way I can, I… I’m not sure if I’m the best choice for such a task. My purview is rejuvenation, reproduction, new life… I’m not really the adventuring into the Demon City type. Perhaps you could send someone more, qualified?”

[AmberVael]

Tea at Amalion's

Vana hides a smile behind her cup, quite content to listen while Amalion so abruptly changes her focus to Tewi. If this interpretation and insight so affected one of Malfeas's closest souls, then she knew it was something she wanted to pursue. Such reactions were what she savored- shock and curiosity, something that would grab attention, something that would capture the imagination.

Something, perhaps, that could change a world, little by little. Wasn't that in her grasp now? The possibility lingered in her mind, along with her desire to advance her power.

She is called out of her musing by Amalion's latest question. "Of course. The change has been terrifying and stressful for all involved, demon and human alike. I draw attention to the bright side of what they've gone through. I give respect to the tragedies, to give them closure so they might move on. I offer something beyond the stress and drudgery of their current difficulties with entertainment.
"The role of the entertainer is to be the heart and voice of the people, to express what needs to be expressed. They need hope more than ever, and so I remind them of heroes, of success in the past, and what could be- I celebrate our accomplishments, and invite them to revel in them by my side; after all, in the midst of shame, regret, tragedy, and defeat, there is still a need for joy. Indeed, that is when it is needed most."

The sorceress sets aside her cup and folds her hands, smiling at Amalion. "Don't you agree?"

[Flare]

Rose, still utterly silent, stifled a yawn at the conversation. It was interesting, but not for her. Regardless, she was fine to wait here, time mattered very little to her- she had an entire unlife waiting ahead of her-. But she did wonder. She closed her eyes, before they became completely black.

She did not sleep, though her skin grew cold and her breathing slowed. What she did breath out escaped her mouth as a frost. She was not even pretending to be dead. She was simply ignoring this particular world, and listening to the dead and distorted cries of those who would call themselves her Masters. She did not attempt to contact them, did not attempt to make them acknowledge her presence, she was simple content to attempt to understand what they were doing. Perhaps, she reasoned, she could figure out some hint of what they were planning.

[Gargulec]

Or Better than Kings, Gods

The assembled wanna-be world rulers accepted the gifts thankfully, though without any excessive enthusiasm. Quirks of Adam Chikyu's character has not been a novelty, no, not really.

'What is exposed calls down opposition' the Eclipse said to Punch, looking at him respectfully, as if he understood the question in deep and valued the insight it presented 'Our kind is wilful from its own nature, if they see an official body enforcing rules upon them, they shall take it as a point of honour to break free from their influence. Thus, to keep them in control, it is imperative that our steering is not obvious to them, so that they cannot see that they are being shaped. Otherwise, we shall fail, as you foresee' he smiled suddenly, his wrinkled face looking very friendly when adorned with such an ornament. 'And it is not beyond our abilities to keep our existence hidden, if we take the opportunity the current state chaos grants us. If our... agency takes roots before any new kings rise with their kingdoms, which is inevitable, if we will have the most exceptional units under our guidance since before they start becoming heroes and paragons, we may be able to stay in the shadows. It would be necessary, thought, to start raising the structures of our rule right now, to take the fullest possible use of the head start given to us.'

'My network is operational already' Jade suddenly cut in 'I can begin preparing Oasis for our influence as soon as the agreement is made.'

Of course, she did not even twitch. It was impressive to the point of being unsettling how effortlessly she seemed to stay so perfectly motionless.

'That is fortunate' Forsaken Sword smirked. 'Bartrand Mar' he addressed the Twilight with an utmost respect gleaming from each word he spoke 'I shall note that if we ever agree to become a committee, I will push to have us all oath-boud to ban inter-personal struggles. Of course' he added quickly, expecting the question 'that will most likely cause us to develop a set of proxies to wage shadow-wars against each other, but is an inevitable consequence of being in the potion of rulership. However, I trust our skills enough to believe that we will be able to maintain equilibrium of power and restraint in its abuse.'

'As for your concern about our inability to guide the Celestial Host as it grown in power, that has been considered already' the Quicksilver Falcon added 'If we maintain our essence growth at a steady and fast pace, we should be able to much any singular Solar in power, and together, we should be unstoppable. But that would come into the picture only in the case of a real emergency. The truth is, that the system we are willing to institute should, assuming everything works according the plans and expectations, provide a sort of invisible support for the other God-Kings' there was a trace of irony in that grandiose title 'we may not be able to always control them as they shall grow in power, but we will own the infrastructure. Without it, even the mightiest Solar will not be able to go against us. Also' a smile once more blossomed on his face 'the cache left by my previous incarnation contains more than trinkets. The biggest treasure there is...' he put a small, yellowish crystal in the middle of the table 'this. Contained within, and on a three similiar memory gems, are libraries of First Age lore, including countless schematics and complete artifacts designs. Whoever he was, he knew that knowledge will be of more use than items. This is not a leg, this makes us start a league ahead the rest of the Host. And all this will be freely available to our circle.'

'As for the honey tongued Zeniths' the warlord mused 'there are appropriate defences. As they can sway them, we can sway them back, or make them impervious to such influence with only a few applications of appropriate charms or subtle mutations spread through the populous. More, if we take control over the Ten Thousand Dragons, we shall have an army of henchman that can easily protect our endeavours from the less powerful attempts at breaking them, with word or force.'

'As for the control, I said it before, but I need to stress it more' the Regent's words were urging now 'we must take an absolute control over the infrastructure, and put as many Dragon-Blooded and Lunars as we can on our side, more or less directly. Should we manage, we will have the tools to effectively control entire Celestial Host - by force, by subtle influence or just by our ability to deny any troublesome Solar any access to artefacts, manses and such. All requests to Amalion should go through our hands, and it would be trifle to make some of them get denied. And that is only the tip of what we can when we control the flow of information and resources.'

'Which we already do, if I understand you correctly' Jade was overjoyed at the prospect, it did not take any charms to see that. 'Also, Twilight, do bear in mind that it is five against approximately one hundred, forty seven Solars and two hundred eighty nine Lunars. No trace of Sidereals in Oasis.'

'And that is one of the reasons of us being able to pull it through. And as for your plan, Bartrand Mar' the Dawn looked outside the window, towards the distant Cecelyne 'my armies are innumerable, after a fashion' he allowed a small pendant to fall from his hand to the table 'I hold control over an exquisitely powerful spawning-manse hidden with the Endless Desert. It is close to the Port Wrath for now, but within a year, it should drift out into Cecelyne by far enough to become almost undetectable, unless one knows where to look. The geomancy there can easily create and support between hundred and two hundreds of combat-ready demons every day. They are a very meagre troops, but can be supported with other denizens of Malfeas as commanders... the size of the army is too small for your idea, but it is an excellent one. By maintaining constant feeling of danger, staging raids at the fringe areas... yes, that can be aragned easily enough.

[Odd_Canuck]

Or Better than Kings, Gods

(OOC Note: Both the written and spoken parts are taking part at the same time, much to the confusion of all.)

Raising his eyes to the heavens like someone asking for a bolt from the sky to strike sense into people, Punch's caste mark starts to glow faintly as essence arms extend out of his back and quickly take on the form of a collaborate design presentation board, skywriting pen and a pointing stick that move on their own.

The pen quickly starts writing in the air, leaving tiny strings of cloud behind as words. "The problem with the plan is the mathematics don't scale*. Setting aside the Lunars, Dragonblooded and assorted other beings of power for a moment, we can chart the relative progression of power with the simple formula that essence x number of people x force multiplier from infrastructure. As you can see here, we few will continue to be overpowered unless we can get the force multiplier to 29.5 or higher. The problem being that we are all Solar Exalted, and as effective as an army, as effective as infrastructure is... I don't think we can get it to that high of a multiplier without anything short of first age infrastructure, which in turn by my projections based on a reduced population size will take approximately 38.5 years. The problem being that infrastructure will then be co-opted by the other Exalted."

"Others not limited. Can call demons, elementals. Make deals. No way to stop."

"While I applaud the individual efforts of Commander Harmonious Jade and Lord Forsaken Sword in preparation of the active portions of their respective foci, the overall plan still has significant flaws. However, as we all know a Dawn is capable of mowing down armies of demons on her own. A Copper Spider or other crafting focused Exalted is capable of preparing devices or whole races that exist to do nothing but destroy the hundreds of demons per day produced."

"Designs Good, resources short. Goals Good, need work."

"Yes, as my primary comments, the general goals of the proposal are... while somewhat ethically questionable, good ones. However there is not enough to draw the Exalted host together without them becoming a threat to us should we do this in secret. Larger enemies and focuses are needed, and not just making this land a habitable one. We need a vast militaristic focus for the Chosen to be distracted as well as a chance to peruse less aggressive tactics."

"How do we do this?"


spending 5 motes on activating the arms

*- This is roughly what you see (https://docs.google.com/spreadsheet/ccc?key=0Aq7Nzv1I0AJldG5ZZFhqeUpzMktkNTJ5cTk2VkFre Gc)

[Zoronos]

Or Better than Kings, Gods

Bartrand frowned. Punch understood, as for the rest, he wasn't sure. His frown deepened at Forsaken Sword's commentary. Internecine war, with a Oath in place? He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "A properly worded oath could prevent the creation and usage of such proxies and cutouts. Besides, such would be a waste of resources. If we are all truly in this for no personal gain, then a shadow war between ourselves does not serve the overall goal. The only possible value would be as a training exercise of sorts, but the risks are too great. Any exercise of force, in whatever form, has a chance to reveal the source and mechanism of that force to an unintended observer. Use force often enough, even if in a proxy war, and we increase the chances someone will stumble onto the overall plan." Bartrand smirked slightly, "Roll the dice often enough, and sooner or later you'll roll the hard six on accident. Each time we use force, we must weigh the potential value of that force's result against the potential downside of the exposure of that mechanism. Unnecessary usages would lead inevitably to our downfall. Especially if other Solars become interested."

He started scribbling in his notebook, momentarily obsessed with a point of trivia. His pencil sketched a complex web of points, lines, and squiggles. He prepared to say something, but then turned the page. Nobody was interested in the motic structure of charms, and their variances. He began to scribble numbers.
He looked up, and scratched his chin for a moment, then energized his own bracers of Universal Crafting, to write onto the charts that Punch had prepared in the air above them all. Numbers and mathematics appeared, quantities of demons, expected essence usage, casualty rates and predictions, broken down by demon type. "I agree with Mr. Chikyu. Attempting to hold the other Solars down will be ineffective in the long run; infrastructure is simply too easy to create here. Especially if one of them manages to get a hold of a Wyld pocket or Protoshinmaic Vortex before I do. Speaking of which, I need a Wyld pocket preferably, or if not, a PSV. Ideally, we convince whomever supplies it to not give any to anyone else. I have a few... bargaining chips that I'm working on. Anyway, that's neither here nor there. Ah, yes, infrastructure."

An additional set of calculations in dark cobalt appeared in the air as a calligrapher's brush of solidified essence drew characters onto the display Punch had begun. "As you can see, the expected conversion rates by even a modestly skilled Solar or Lunar can quickly turn the entire population of Oasis to any given cause. And a properly trained Solar can build a workshop suitable for Artifact creation in under a week. We have to keep in mind we're not working with the old ratios here. It's not 1 Solar or Lunar per few million or billion mortals anymore. It's one per 120 or so."

Bartrand paused, and folded his hands in front of him. "We need to create a new type of infrastructure. We need to make the other Solars dependent upon us, but not because we're strong, but because we can be the helping hand that lifts them up. Let us be the ones everyone comes to for supplies and help, and we'll gladly provide it, for free or nearly free. Then, in the future, when we require their compliance we can leverage those favors. Instead of the hand that attempts (and fails) to hold them down, we can be the hand that lifts them up."

"Anyway, as to the demon war thing, we're missing an important point here. There's only 50,000 mortals. Once the 'Rogue Demon Threat' becomes evident, Forsaken Sword can rally the Celestial host to repulse them, and magnanimously suggest that the Celestial host fight the demons, without Mortal armies or aid, as mortals and terrestrials are too precious to endanger in the conflict. That means 7 days of spawning would create an army of 1400 combat demons, plenty to challenge a host of 450 (at most) Celestials, at least for a week. Sure, the celestials would prevail, but 3 to 1 odds, especially considering some Celestials are non-combatants would at least give them enough of a fight. And there would be no let up. Once a week, every week... presuming I didn't design you another such manse to double your expected forces. We're not trying to kill Celestials here, just convince them there's a dire threat, and that we need to unite under the Visionary Leadership of Forsaken Sword to defend Oasis. Also has the side benefit of giving the other Twilights motivation to work on Oasis-defense-mechanisms, instead of whatever kooky projects they were planning on."

[Sallera]

Tea at Amalion's

Tewi nods thoughtfully, although wise was not something he had been called often. "I have been told before to beware the Eyes of Orabilis; I see it is a warning I will have to take seriously." How seriously was still a matter for question; he would have to learn more of the subject later. There were ways around most restrictions back in Creation, but here, the rules had a tendency to be... part of the landscape.

He doesn't reply to Vana's question, leaving that for Amalion, but he smiles inwardly at her words. Joy in the middle of tragedy. It wasn't that she was wrong, just that it was such a Solar thing to focus on. Always standing out, doing the unexpected, and forcing everyone else to go along with them. Well, that's just part of what makes life down here interesting.

[Gargulec]

Things Lost and Broken

The song of soulsteel being drawn accompanied with a ling, rustling sound of the orichalcium sword cutting through air was enough to catch the attention of the gathered. Momentarily, they grew motionless, they deeply-seated eyes set at you warily, hands slowly travelling down to the belts, to the things strapped to them.

And then...

'We've been had!' uttered one of the men of honour gathered, his voice revealing the unmistakable Halsanti accent. Within a heartbeat, weapons were drawn, flamepieces and flamewands clicking as the firedust charges grew very, very close to bursting. The dragon-king and the Abyssal found themselves starring down many gleaming barrels, held by people with very twitchy fingers.

Around that point of time, the slightly obese man coughed up something, spat on the ground, and wandered away. Then, the realization had hit you that he was, in fact, ogling the flame-duck, not observing you, which, given that the elemental had loosened her shirt a fair bit, was understandable, if a bit gross. The question whether your anklok truly believed in the man being a spy, or just wanted to guard the honour of his protagee remained unanswered in face of a far more serious problems.

'You, when did the Speakers of the Silent word buy you?' the most seriously looking man asked, aiming his elegant weapon at the dragon-king's face, with his free hand taking down an equally tastefully designed black hat from his head, keeping it at the level of his heart. 'How dishonourable, hiring such freaks into the Family...' he added, in a very exalted tone.

'Boss' one of the other man of honoured dared to ask 'are we sure...?'

'Who else would dare to draw weapons in the presence of Night Deliverers?' the apparent leader of the group snapped back. 'Now, before you die... how did it happen that you have learned of the location of our endeavour?! Speak, and we shall make your death swift!

The dragon-king's nostrils widened, a small cloud of vapour shooting into the air. His tail begun to slowly travel from one his side to another, leaving a slight trail in the thin layer of a silver sand that covered everything here.

Violence was in the air.


Dragon

The Lunar's remark, combined with the inability of the Dragon to smash the caustic (at least, in his eyes) Full Moon where he stood shattered the already weakened composure of the mighty expression of the element of water.

'HOW DARE YOU DEFY ME?!' he bellowed, the thundering sound washing over the entire Island, shaking leaves out of the trees, troubling the still waters of the lake around... even the other two mighty serpents stirred in their deep slumber as the growl of the Water Dragon dispersed in their own sheer elemental weight. 'You are nothing!' he continued to snarl, coiling around his pillar so tightly that it begun to crack. 'A servant to the Dragons who gives the life for you to nurture! If we order you to do something... you do not second guess it!

With a mighty crash, he slithered down the pillar once more, this time however straightening his massive body so that it towered over the goddess, shadowed her.

'You will save that nymph or I will have someone more fitting take your position you... humanlike wench!'

The insult, likely, was intended to hurt, but then again, the Water Dragon found himself lacking in the department of acidic remaks as well.


Tea at Amalion's

'Amidst all that sham' the demon replied long while after Vana's words echoed with their inner fire among the simple, bare walls 'drudged and broken dreams...'

She cut abruptly, putting down the cup back on the plate. The porcelain clangoured, the teapot shaking for a moment, almost falling to the side. Yet, the demon's hands seemed as steady as always. At least now.

Delicately, she stood up and clasped her hands, strongly. The sound rang down the corridor, and without a slightest delay, a valet stood in the doorway, bowing deeply, silent and still, a small mirror of polished obsidian in his hands. Delicately, Amalion picked it up, looking at her own reflection... it seemed pointless, but the soul of Malfeas had to be seeing something more than the veil in the reflective surface, or she would not be starring at it so intensely.

'...this is still a beautiful world?' she muttered. If it was to be a statement, she could not find enough strength in her to say it like that. And so, a question flowed from her lips. 'Those were her words...' she whispered in a hushed voice before you had the time to answer.

'Let me say, Lady of the Smouldering Mantra' the mirror returned to the servant's hands, and the demon vanished as abruptly as he had appeared. Amalion turned back to you 'that I sympathize deeply with your goals. I shall mark you, and your companions as favoured guests in my manse bodies, so that you can always find a safe haven there, when the tempest is about to overtake you. In turn, however, I shall allow myself to watch your steps very carefully and with utmost curiosity.'


Vana gains an Ally worth 3 dots (due to the loyalty not being absolute)


Meanwhile, Rose did not have the opportunity to listen to the interesting exchange of words between the demon and the Solar. She tuned in to the Whispers of the fallen Titains... and they were all around her all of sudden, light dimming, the walls cracking, the stench of decay and rust, this fragrance of the Labyrinth overwhelming her once more, numbing all other senses.

Expect hearing.

closer end closer end closer cloSER! END!

Soon united, soon at one NO LIES FROM HIM, CLOSER END! soon HE comes sun HE devours true brother, true mercy TRUE FRIEND!

And then, the words faded too, leaving only a piercing cry of a hunting horn ringing in the Abyssal's ears.


Or Better than Kings, Gods

The assembled took a long moment to study the data and calculations presented by Adamu in a thoughtful silence.

'Those concerns are more than valid' the Eclipse agreed 'however, there seems to be a number of fallacies within your calculations. The biggest one of them appears to be that you present it as if the rest of the Host together was to be united and turned against us, direct all their efforts to thwart or agendas. This is now what we have planned, however. As long as we remain secret, we should be able to utilize power plays and struggles among other Lawgivers to direct their actions against each other or different threats not associated with, thus making them unable to unite their assets and powers against us. The intended subduing of the Ten Thousand Dragons to us is not factored as well.'

'Also' the Dawn added 'I believe that you are actually overstating the capabilities of a number of Solars. While it is true that it is within their border of possibilities to become one man armies, or sway entire nations with but a single speech, such level of puissance requires a dedication that many Lawgivers seem to lack. Truth be told' he smirked 'for example Twilight crafter and sorcerer Arianna, while in possession of a considerable power is not focused enough to put it to a use... at least yet, and when she will finally be there, we should consider her ours body, mind and spirit.'

''But that is a digression' the Regent smiled with understanding 'no matter how we put it, it is obvious that we need to intensify our efforts at raising and maintaining control over the infrastructure of the Oasis. As for the lack of resources in our hands, there seems to be an easy solution of this problem. But this I will present in a moment. As for your concerns regarding the infighting within our circle, the sad reality is that it appears to be almost impossible to avoid in the long run. By presenting ourselves an appropriate channels and venues of such struggles in advance, thanks to properly worded oaths, we account for the damage control even before the damage is done. Your concerns about secrecy are more than valid, but I am inclined to trust that if we ever reach the influence that will give us the fields and reasons for infighting, we will have learned about maintaining discretion already.'

'Regarding the Wyld Pocket you claim to need, Copper Spider' Jade suddenly spoke up, making Forsaken Sword who was already preparing to deliver yet another speech of his sit down and give her a quick nod 'the demon Makarios owns me a favour, and he is likely in possession of means to generate one, given his close associations with the Fair Folk. And' she raised her hand, the motion strangely unfitting her still stature 'regarding the size of the population, we can use it to our advantage, remember. Is each Solar is only able to rally a hundred or two of mortals, eliminating such a unit would be trifle, either by mental influence or force, if necessary. Mortals die easily, after all, and only in large numbers is killing them a problem' the observation she said calmly, not changing her tone at a slightest bit, as if it was the most casual thing to speak of. 'And if we really need to control the mortals, we only need to seize the sources of food and shelter...'

'Harmonious Jade is right' the Eclipse once more cut in 'the three upstart dragons are the only source of resources necessary to provide food and water to the mortal populations. And they should be easy to subdue, being barely more than glorified elementals. They would become one of our key assets.'

'More than that, Quicksilver Falcon' the dark skinned woman sighed 'more than that. Make someone starve, and he will do everything he can to get something to eat, everything. Beg, steal, murder, serve... I know of this well enough' there was the slightest hint of... regret? in her voice as she spoke of it.

'As for the war' the Forsaken Sword finally seized the opportunity to speak 'I agree with Bartrand's points, this is how we should try to resolve it. And the idea of creating a chain of war manses is truly a spectacularily good one, especially if we manage to create a geomantic nexus for those manses, preferably one concealed as just another ordinary manse in, for example, Arianna's hands, given how she is not associated with us at the slightest once more, he smirked, as if the mention of the Twilight made him somehow amused 'that we will be able to use to control the rest of the manses remotely.'