The Birth of Theion IC

[horus42]

The surface of Malfeas... A place of Brassy metal, a cityscape populated by bioengineered demons and other, more unsavory things. Far from the civilizing influence of the Central Empire, and His Divine Lunar Presence, the Stellar Intelligences are the only authority, and Malfeas sits above them all.

The six of you have been brought here, as nominally loyal Infernal Exalted, because Malfeas has something to ask of you. His messenger said it was the highest honor, that you would be helping in the final escape of the Stellar Intelligences from their imprisonment in the Damned Reaches of space, those areas where all life was wiped out during Malfeas' last attempt at war with the Empire.

You find yourself in an ornate room, attended to by Blood Apes and Neomahs. A holographic display flickers to life in the center of the room, showing a green-haired, green eyed youth, with bronzed skin. You all recognize him, by description, if not by sight, as Ligier. A spirit-program imbued with but a fraction of the will, power, and intellect of Malfeas himself. The voice he speaks with is authoritative, but not unkind.

"The final pieces of the puzzle have been discovered. Soon, Malfeas will be no more. That broken shell of a being will be replaced with who he should have been, who he was always meant to be. The last bits of schematics and software are located fringe worlds. We need you to find them for us."

[Mechanix]

Please, I beg of you, do not be obnoxious when talking to the Unquestionable Ligier. Please. He does not like it.

The request of her caretakers was still present in Tristania's mind, but she felt a growing desire to simply disregard it. After all, she was... Disappointed. She had expected a ten-feet tall figure of pure brass oozing nuclear fire, and instead she was talking to a pretty but completely ordinary boy. Bronzed skin wasn't much when you spent your days in the corridors and streets of the Demon Star. Regardless, she kept quiet and waited patiently, looking with childish fascination at the neomah who surrounded her. She asked for a drink or a snack not so much because she actually wanted one than out of fascination for the way they moved, with casual grace. Perhaps it was the neomah blood in her own ancestry that found them so appealing.

When Ligier had finished, she put down her drink and cleared her throat. Do not be obnoxious.

"Which fringe worlds are we talking about? Should we prepare in a particular way?" She asked. "And under what forms will these softwares be? I'm not good with computers." Okay, good so far. These were all reasonable questions that could be expected of an Infernal focused on her task. She felt quite proud of herself. "Also, are the other bozos my teammates? Am I the leader of our circle? I bet I'm the leader. I can punch out any of you. Me? Boss. You? Minions."

...dammit.

[Empyreal]

Sequestered from the teeming masses of terrified and obedient slave-servants, the Sovereign stands alone. Hands clasped behind his back, the slender, blond Caucasian is easily distinguished from the crowds, wearing an air of casual authority enhanced by his attire -- looming tall and military, a thick white cape draped over his chest and back, fastened with bright gold epaulettes and covering a crisp, black-and-silver uniform with elaborate cuffs and a stiff high collar. He looks like a war hero or high-ranking officer, the dress uniform trimmed and tailored to his frame. He faces away from the crowds, showing them his back, looking over star charts and artwork plastered against the wall.

A blood ape wearing a butler's uniform dares to approach him. "Care for a drink, sir?" it inquires, its gravelly and gutteral voice quaintly ill-suited to such mild-mannered behavior.

He turns and his eyes burn, white hot embers that stand out against the thick hair framing him. Before him the blood ape withers, but does not move, still holding up a tray full of imported delicacies from the great merchant houses, who are willing to trade even with the forbidden enemies of all if it makes a profit. He reaches a hand out toward it, taking a glass of wine, and his shining sight continues to pick the demon apart. Whatever it is he sees, it pleases him, as he drinks deeply and smiles graciously at the demon.

"Our gratitude, erymanthoi," he begins, patting the hulking brute on the upper arm. "Thou shalt comest to Our own chamber ere days end. A brush of thy masterwork be most suited to celebrate this day."

The big gorilla, surprised at its hidden love of painting being revealed, bows before Reinhardt, its face briefly lit by the searing white halo that manifested above the man when he spoke. It shuffles off to serve the rest of the gathered celebrities as Ligier begins to speak, and once more, the Sovereign stands alone -- though now looking toward the woman who reappeared nearby, feeding on some sweet or another.

"Theion,", he says when the spirit-program finishes, the name stirring his own memories of that abandoned moon. "... you king empyreal, draped in heavenly regalia, forged by the ancient empire to hold the Stellar Intelligences to their promises. In sooth, a plan absolute in foresight, but tarried too long in the execution." He smiles at that, self-amused; naturally, the rebellion occurred before Theion could be completed. "We, too, wish to behold these fragments of power, these programs, to better understand Our own self. As We are the prime Sovereign, it be Our right to lead the effort."

He turns to face the group, setting his glass on a nearby table and casting aside his cape imperiously. "We do need your loyalties and your goodwill. All and one, you will be led into glory." The burning-eyed man looks at the half-pint, watching her curiously as she interrupts him, mid-sentence, to announce herself the leader.

"We do have special need of thy strong arm, lady. Thou art verily meant to servest as Our sword and shield. We do leave safeguarding Our voyage to thine transformative hands."


Just so everyone knows what's going on, Reinhardt permanently or indefinitely benefits from a few effects:

With Empyrean Mandate Tongue, he only communicates in Old Realm. His voice has a deep, spiritual presence, and ignores any penalties from interfering noise.

With Glorious Vassal Illumination, his eyes constantly smolder white, and he can see various things about those he looks at -- Abilities, Attributes, Charms, Essence, to varying degrees, in addition to knowing if someone is Servile or not..

If you don't mind, as a little spoiler bit at the end of your posts, please jot down the following information for me:

If your character has any Attributes or Abilities at 4+, if your Essence is greater or lower than 3, what 2 Attributes / Abilities at 4+ your character prizes the most, and their highest Essence non-Permanent Charm that they personally value or use the most. Thanks!

[Volthawk]

Dr. Octavius is dressed rather less formally, with a long, dirty cloak covering most of his body, although when he stops leaning back, as he was before Ligier began speaking, at times a throbbing bulge can be seen through the cloak on his back.

He rolls his eyes at the little one's talk. "Yes, yes, I'm sure you're very good at punching, but there's more to being powerful than being able to punch the other person out. Don't get me wrong, brute force is a splendid thing - most of my designs are to do with using raw force, that being something that the nature of organic life is disposed towards, but that's not the only element, especially when it comes to leadership."

He pauses to chew on some strange monstrous organ brought to him by one of the blood apes, and then speaks again.

"Now then, this software. What kind of opposition will we be facing? Are there any particular factions out for it, or will it just be a matter of obtaining the data from their current holders?"

Throughout all of this, Xend remains standing behind him, the only part of his body visible behind his clothing (the kind of clothes someone in a desert would wear) are his eyes, which appear like an insect's.


OK, that list...

Abilities higher than 4: Craft, Lore, Medicine, Occult
Essence: Er, it is 3. Not higher or lower.
Most prized attributes: Craft and Medicine
Most prized/used Charm: Hmm, probably Great Mother’s Wane, I guess?

[Ronnoc]

Jorrad Nyingma isn’t quite sure what to make of his surroundings. The crowded confines and raging heat of Malfeas remind him far more of the mines of his home world than the glossy crystalline stations orbiting the spheres of She Who Lives in Her Name ever did. And yet the multitude of dizzying forms of life is in every sense of the world alien to him.

Accepting a glass of some unfamiliar beverage from the purple women, Jorrad settles in to listen to the spirit entity manifesting in the room. Receiving his orders Jorrad nearly bursts out laughing. “Data retrieval?” he mutters under his breath, “That deer wasn’t kidding when it said my duties wouldn’t be all that different from what I was doing for the Golden Dragons."

As his new gang responds to their instructions Jorrad observes them. The regal looking man definitely is someone important, the way he carries himself is vaguely reminiscent of the wardens back home. His dialect is odd, stiff and formal and yet somehow entrancing. He finds himself grinning at the brash manner of the young girl who he had initially assumed to be a daughter of one of the purple ladies, the Neomah. Jorrad’s youngest sister Shanti was similarly straight forward and brash. The man in black however, that one knows what he’s doing. Any time you run a job you the first order of business is finding out who else might be after the same mark and how the mark plans on guarding the goods.

“How are these schematics stored?” Jorrad asks, “Are they held in the Celestial Mountain, manse architecture, a private network…”

Let's see Atributes rated at 4+ are dexterity stamina intelligence and wits. Most prized abilities are probably Lore and occult, and most valued charm is probably Mind hand manipulation for now.

[Exthalion]

If she thinks her kind of leadership would last any longer than the time until a knife grew out of her back, she is a fool; and If he thinks his kind of leadership would last any longer than the time it took to get out of hearing of his condescending drivel he is an even greater fool.

"Personally, I think this discussion can wait until we are no longer wasting the time of Ligier Greensun. I am just shy of certain he has better things to do than preside over squabbling."

The speaker's voice was raspy, as though his lungs or airway had been damaged by years of smoking. He wore thick, coarse spun, and scratchy looking garments of off white and brown and a heavy hood obscured his features. He seemed uncomfortable near the demon attendants, raising a hand to warn them away if they tried to come close. The only feature he showed with an elaborate tattoo at the base of his throat that fluoresced in Ligier's light.

"If I may ask though, what went or is going wrong? Malfeas is mobile and has scoured many worlds already. If we are here, something has changed. I would prefer to know if this takes the form of active opposition, passive constraints, or some combination of the two."

Attributes/Abilities over 4: Dexterity, Intelligence, Perception / Awareness, Craft, Lore, Occult

Essence: 3

Favored Attributes/Abilities: Intelligence + Craft

Favored Charm: Primordial Essence-Synthesizing Wellspring. Allows creation of material ab essentia.

[Mechanix]

Sword and shield. What does that even mean. Tristania opened her mouth to speak up, but the Sovereign was followed by someone else, then someone else, then someone else again, and she fell quiet while they talked. All right, this right there certainly was a pretty congregation of Infernals. Everyone ready to assume leadership and unwilling to accept anyone ruling over them. Some prepared to devolve into endless bickering and some preferring to report the discussion to later, that is to say never, therefore ensuring they wouldn't have a superior.

She was already growing bored. No point in being the boss of them. That would only lead to pointless bickering. When she lorded over a band of Blood Apes in her younger days, the relationship of the group was healthy: when you disagreed with someone, you punched them in the face and they punched you back, and the winner got to decide. That was clear and simple. And if you didn't want a leader? Then you left the group. Everyone was free.

All right then. She looked at the last to have talked - scientist, wasn't he?

"We all know Malfeas cannot penetrate the Central Empire. He is confined to dark space. I guess turning into Theion would change that? That sounds like a fine and straightforward job, anyway. Glowing Guy is right; I'm strong. I'll keep you safe while you... Sciency guys... Do whatever it is you do. It'll be a piece of cake.
Oh! Do we have a fleet?"

[horus42]

A faint flicker of a smile spreads over Ligier's lips. "The small one is correct. Once Malfeas truly ascends his current state and becomes Theion, the surrender oaths will no longer apply to him, as he will no longer be the being who swore them.

As for the schematics themselves, there are only two pieces left, in barely standing Manses on nearly dead worlds. The Empire has forgotten all about them, which makes them perfect targets. The closest part is on the planet Terhaute, and the only resistance we expect is from barbaric natives, who fail to understand what the Manse truly is.

The second piece will be more difficult, though nothing that you can't handle. The planet Barsoom does have ties with the Empire, however. You must leave no trace, or witnesses, to our excursion on Terhaute, or else the Imperial Navy could be waiting for us at Barsoom...

For now, all you have to work with are what you already have at your disposal. It's served you well enough until now. However, should it be necessary, the fleet will stand by. Theion's schematics must be brought back here."

[Ronnoc]

"Well if I can get to the manse I can get the schematics" Jorrad states, But I'd prefer not to try body surfing the canals. I don't suppose anyone's got a ship we can use?

[Mechanix]

"Discretion. Right. You do realize my most famous ability is destroying walls by flinging my opponent into them and flying through space while glowing blue? That's gonna be slightly difficult. Also there's Glowing Guy with his shiny white eyes and whatever Creepy Dude over here is hiding under his cloak. Urgh. Gross."

Tristania shook her head and looked away from the bulge that seemed to move beneath the back of the Defiler, and tried to focus on the situation at hand.

"...speaking of Glowing Guy and Creepy Dude, it might be a good idea to introduce ourselves to each other and give our credentials, uh? Know our names, what we can and can't do. I'll begin: my name is Tristania. I can punch things real hard, lift a car and throw it through a building, and I can breathe in space. And fly. Breaking stuff is the story of my life, and I love it. I'll do my best to keep y'all safe. What about the rest of you?"

"And no, I sadly don't have a ship. I usually squat along with whoever does. People are generally happy to have me on board. That's what they say at least."

[Empyreal]

Reinhardt inclines his head in polite acknowledgement of Ligier's words, committing this mandate to memory. In the background of his mind, he runs over what he already knows of the two named planets; backwater or not, it is his wont to approach all things with a measure of intelligent caution and preparation, to decisively forge a well-reasoned plan and then commit to it with stubborn courage. And to do that one needs some measure of knowledge of what they're doing.

"We are Prinz Reinhardt Wilhelm von Heiligesmark," he begins, letting his gaze roam over all the assembled Infernals. If he is to lead them, and the Sovereign is sure that he will, he must know them; an ignorant hand knows not what tool to wield, and can but flail helplessly. There is the mad scientist who values his mind and ability to gestate monsters; the little girl who views life as conflict and doesn't bother with complicated subjects, but is strong and fast; another scientist, who cherishes his ability to conjure raw material and forge it anew, and his pirate princess, loathe though she is to assist him. "Exiled inheritor and rightful ruler of Our birthright: the most glorious and holy Heiligesmark System. Ours is the fury of the righteous and wronged, and Our noble purpose to correct the mistakes of Man."

He turns, cape drawn around him, and gazes westward, his home burning bright in his memories lightyears away. He draws a single breath, and looks away.

"We do have in Our possession wealth and ships and supplies enough for this quest. We will provide for ye, in return for your cooperation toward mutual goals. We invite you all to retire hither Our command, wherein We will begin Our trip and strategical instruction."

A beat, then:

"Privileged are We to make your acquaintances. A meeting blessed by fortune We find this thus."

[Ronnoc]

Terhaute, the name tingles in the back of Jorrad's mind it sounds familiar, one of the lost terminal manses' referenced in the Mountain certainly but which one?

Stirred from his reflection by Tristiana's introduction and Reinhardt's monologue Jorrad makes an overstated bow to Reinhardt saying. "My name's Jorrad Nyingma, and I'm from Hathsin, his Glorious Lunar Despot's personal hell-hole. As to what I can do I can get answers out of any system ever programmed." after a short pause as he rises from his bow he adds, "Oh, and I can kill things with my brain." Settling back into one of the rooms many chairs he sets his glass to orbiting around him with a tendril of energy that ripples the air and leaves a faint scent of ozone.

[Volthawk]

"I am Dr. Octavius Rigel. Like I said, I am a scientist and engineer, focusing on biotechnology - in terms of living artefacts, mutation and genesis." He gestures to the man behind him. "Xend here is my assistant, bodyguard and pilot of the Genesis Titan." He frowns. "I suppose if we want to be subtle we can't really use that."

[horus42]

Reinhardt and Jorrad
You recall that Terhaute is a relatively small world, far from the borders of the Empire. It was once a part of it, during the rule of the Solars, but now it has devolved into barbarism. The natives are human, but they've barely progressed out of the disaster-induced Stone Age caused by a meteor strike after the Malfean War.

Octavius
You remember everything in the above spoiler, plus the fact that Terhaute is a world of extreme environments. Mountains and valleys are nearly all that you'll find there, and those who live on the mountains are more advanced than those in the valleys. Unfortunately... the manse is in a valley.

[Mechanix]

I sense a lull in the action; I'll go ahead and assume our thinky friends have shared that information.
'All right. So we're heading to a Stone Age planet with little ties to the Empire and barbarian valleys. That's great! Means we can get away with some not stealthy stuff. Suits me just fine. So, is everyone ready? Should we plan anything? I'm fine with having no plan whatsoever, help me think on my feet.

Tristania let her gaze wander around the room, wondering how all these people - scientists, crafters, royalty - would fare in a fight. The idea amused her. She liked fighting; she liked the distress and fear and confusion and anger. The rush of adrenaline. All these guys looked more like the cold-and-calculating type who dissected their opponent slowly with thought alone. She hated that.

'The Black Lady hasn't said anything though,' she said while pointing her violet finger at the Night Caste. 'Seems more quiet than us. What do you think? I say we take a small ship, drop in the valley, steal our stuff and go away. No way stone age barbarians will contact the Empire to tell them anything.'

Truth be told, she was just eager to get the mission started.

[Exthalion]

"I call myself Manah. I have little experience with such matters as these, and will leave the fine details up to the rest of you. I am no scientist, though like the good doctor I concern myself more with the task of making than combat.

I... possess a vessel, a gift from my patron. It is perhaps the farthest thing possible from subtle, yet it possesses a powerful stealth feature which will drastically reduce our odds of detection. I am fairly certain it could transfer your craft as well."

The hooded man appeared to be uncomfortable talking, though if it was because of his surroundings or merely insecurity in front of people was hard to gauge.

[Volthawk]

"The Genesis Titan will not require transport. If things get to the point where we need it, the AI can bring it over to us.

He takes a moment to think through Tristiana's plan.

"The mountain-dwellers may need watching. Although still pre-canal, they still have some technological advancement - enough to start sending out unmanned crafts into space. Our presence there, if it obvious we are not from the planet, may cause them to increase their efforts, in search of the other life that we would confirm exists. Enemies may pick up that information. Just a possibility. Also, if they cause trouble, they won't be as easy to deal with as the valley barbarians. They'd probably have some degree of foreaa, at he least, and probably some kind of mechanised or vehicular force. Also, either native group may make up for their technological situation through magical means. Also, it was a part of the empire once, so the Dragon's Blood may flow there."

[Empyreal]

"With its eye set upon the firmament for the first, it will have not have no capability or clever thought to track Our vessels through the void," the Sovereign remarks, turning from the demonic crowds watching them and listening to their every word with eager senses. His cape drawn close about his slender form, he stalks with military precision toward the exit of the grand chamber, the throng of bioengineered flesh parting before him like shadow before light. He pauses there, head turning, gazing over all assembled with smoldering white eyes and gesturing for the Abyssal woman to follow him with two bent fingers.

"It is Our will that we haste Our business thereupon, such that yours business stretch no time longer than it need and draw unwholesome sights. Our forces will divide into quarters halved again, simultaneously to touch upon eight locations. Silver tongue and rapid foot will seize the day, while false gossip spread from soldier to fishwife to beggar king shall set Our pursuit fumbling."

With an imperious smirk, Prinz Reinhardt once more turns, exiting to his fleet. He will have eight separate groups organized and ordered by the time any of the others see fit to arrive, touching down in geographically distinct locations, drawing attention, and, when contacted by locals and communicating with them, spreading false truths about their nature, their purpose, and their next destination.

[Volthawk]

Octavius is quiet and straight-faced as the Sovereign leaves, breaking into laughter after a few moments, a smile on his face.

"Oh, this will be fun."

[horus42]

Ligier looks over you again. "Subtlety... We'll simply have to see how that works for you..." He trails off, looking slightly displeased. "All that matters is results. Do whatever it takes..."

The various demonic crowds cheer you on, as the time comes for all of you to depart on your mission.

[Ronnoc]

As soon as Reinhardt leaves the room Jorrad sighs resting his forhead in the palm of his right hand.

Yes the Princeling's plan of throwing a smokescreen for their pursuers would likely work but it would also scream that they had some interest in the system to begin with and there was no reason that the locals should be alerted at all.

Even if they were discovered while accessing the manse one report of outsiders would be dismissed as the paranoid ravings of a madman. Like old man Eadan back home who claimed that the "Shining Ones" were trying to eat his dreams and steal his stories. Eight simultaneous, military incursions on the other hand would attract attention.

Still Jorrad wasn't the one with the fleet. With a rueful shake of the head Jorrad follows the white caped royal.

[Mechanix]

"So we're going to, like, come down on the whole planet with a giant space-fleet? Oh my, this is going to be so fun!"

There was not a single ounce of sarcasm in Tristania's voice; in fact, she had a glimmer of excitement in her eyes and was clapping her hands in joy. She hopped to her feet and prepared to leave, bowing towards the neomah servants as if they were her most honored hosts, while only giving Ligier a curtesy nod. She was already stomping in excitement - but there was a problem to solve before anything else. She might be able to fly through space, but her speed meant nothing compared to that of a spaceship, and she had yet to attempt using one of the canals.

She ran up to the weird guy with the throbbing cape - Octavius, was it? And literally pulled on his sleeve to draw his attention. Well, she was small.

"Please mister, I don't have a spaceship, and yours sounds totally awesome. Like, a living spaceship? I want to see it! Mind if I join you for the trip? Please please please please. I promise I won't break anything."

Well, as the only one in the circle without a ship, someone had to take her aboard.

[Exthalion]

Dispite his discomfort in the presence of all these demons and sociopaths, Manah was just a tad disappointed when they all seemed to be going off to do their own thing. At least at... home there had been the excuse of caste.

"Will I never be rid of it? Even here and now..."

[Volthawk]

"Ligier, before you go - it wouldn't be possible for things to be arranged so I can obtain some demonic biomass - blood, flesh, other fluids, organs, that kind of thing? I found it works wonders for facilitating the spawning of more complex creations."

His attention is then taken up by the little punchy girl, who he responds to with a nod. "I have plenty of space to spare, so sure. I hope you find it impressive - I hope that one day I will create something as magnificent and powerful."

[Mechanix]

"Ah! If you want help building another ship, I'm sure I can give some! I mean, the last months have been kinda boring to me, just flying from SI to SI, and if I can help you by, I don't know, killing stuff to get you the part to make another giant bug, well I'd love to, because you see..."

Her speech trailed off as she left the room along with Rigel, excitedly going on about all the fun they were going to have together.

Pseudo-smooth transition FTW!

[Volthawk]

Octavius simply lets her talk as he heads to the Titan, Xend following behind and remaining silent. He then stops, indicating that they have reached their destination, and looks up. The Genesis Titan towers above them, an immense many-legged insectoid mechanised armour. On the closest leg, hardened organic plates slide apart, revealing the interior of the armour, to be precise some kind of elevator, which Xend now stands in, waiting for Octavius and Tristiana.

"So, this is it. What do you think?"

[horus42]

Ligier tells Octavius to take whatever he needs, before sending everyone off on their way. In the end, you all arrive at your respective ships, ready to set off to Terhaute, a journey which should take about 2 days, barring any... unfortunate incidents.

[Mechanix]

"...think? It's awesome! I mean, wow. Giant insect-robot-ship stuff? And it can go into space? I love it. It even has an elevator and stuff! I just hope it's not like, in pain or anything. I'd love being a giant spaceship-monster swimming in the void. Bathing in the sun, blowing up enemy ships. I think I'm going to enjoy the trip.

Can it talk? Or, you know, think? And do you have any crew? A ship that pilots itself would kick ass."

[Volthawk]

"Xend pilots it, although it does also have a built-in AI - it can't materialise, however, although it can go away from the Titan and later on summon it to its location. But other than the AI, no, there's no intelligence to it. It needs no more crew than Xend, although it can transport extra people."

[Ronnoc]

Settling in his quarters on the Prince's vessel for what would hopefully be an uneventful trip, one question still simmered in Jorrad's mind. Who was the silent Night Caste and what was she doing working with one of Malfeas's Chosen?

Accessing a terminal Jorrad began searching the computers database for information on the mysterious Exalt. Nothing invasive for now, no worms or overt essence manipulation, after all it wouldn't do to offend an ally right off the bat. But forewarned is forearmed and Jorrad settled in as his searches began to report back.

So I'm rolling intelligence + Lore to see what I can find out about Helena, particularly why she's working with us and what her connection with the prince is. I'll burn 3 essence to my excellency to fortify the roll [roll0]

stunt dice if applicable [roll1]

[Mechanix]

"That's really cool. I'm glad I asked you to transport me. Do you have, like, a training room? Someplace reinforced where I could train my strength and combat and stuff? I know the trip is only two days but I get bored easily, and I guess I can't talk to the AI if it can't materialize. No offense, but I'm afraid your topic of conversation and mine don't... Quite match-up. Unless you're really into hand-to-hand fighting and Blood Ape Boxing championships. Speaking of not-which, what's this under your cloak?"

Subtelty and tact. Those where words Tristania had yet to hear about.

[Empyreal]

The Sovereign is thoughtful and quiet en route to his ship, moving with practiced grace through the sprawling cityscapes of Malfeas, the ground pulsing eternally with the harsh heat and light of the green sun at the sphere's core. By the time he arrives at the spaceport he'd taken for his fleet, he has already fashioned hundreds of plans for the coming days. Establish a perimeter across the planet's orbit, scanning the surface for weapons' platforms and primitive nuclear technology; set the fleet's targeting computers to focus on defense, wiping out their slow and awkward rocket-based missiles before they're any threat; set the ships to store their heat temporarily behind the hull, so they can't be detected by any scans of the sky; divide his men into eight small groups, and leave the majority in space watching over them; send these groups to eight geographically distinct locations, where they will touch ground, set up small camps, and investigate the local areas peacefully; and, perhaps most importantly, send a small recon team down to find some source of local information. He will need to have them equipped with translators, in the event this planet has lost its language -- but he expects them to speak their own dialect of Galactic Basic, as the cataclysmic meteor strike was not a full extinction-level event, and thus the ruins of technology and language remain.

With the overall strategy and myriad tactical events charted out, he finds himself upon his ship, within his ornate command chamber, Valentine scowling at his side. A press of a button, and a halo manifests above his head, searing white and crowned with hungry tongues of green fire.

"You stand at ready, o subjects; lift-off sequence 6-8-7, reverse arrowhead formation. Anon, we ready for the Canals. You accord Our guests full respect and courtesy, and endeavor to perform at your most best. Pilots, you our accompanied vessel give wide berth."

His supernatural voice resonates in the minds of the servile crew and throughout every chamber of every ship, his will immediately being executed with top-of-the-line precision. His fleet will assemble itself in a loose, defensive line, giving the alien bug ship thing a healthy amount of distance, and make for the Canals. All necessary supplies have already been acquired.

The ships begin to rise, the Prince's majestic white carrier the first, and the others after.

[Exthalion]

There wasn't a berth for Manah's ship. He walked toward the end of the docking section and the living structure of the Tyrant-Dyson grew and extended. It rose at first, forming an elaborate stairwell with pillars of brass and large open windows of green and silver glass to allow the Emerald Star's light in. It eventually leveled out though still he walked. As it ceased to flow before him he came to a stop and looked up and held a finger to a small device in his ear.

"My Lord Ligier, I am ready at your convenience."

At first nothing happened, shielding his eyes from the harsh rays with his hand. Then their was a flash, an a long filament of green fire speed toward's him. The long hallway he had traversed looked like a spider's gossamer compared to the stattite it had been spun from, the coronal mass ejection would surely sweep it away like a hurricane. Manah held up his hand, palm toward the oncoming burst and with eyes wide open despite the glare. The mark on his chest began to spew forth an opalescent light.

"When the Great Atzmus declined, there arose Atman and Bodhi. When 'Essence' and 'Enlightenment' emerged there was great ignorance. It is only when harmony is lost that there is talk of 'diplomacy' and 'accord'; only when peace has already fled is there a need for 'defense'."

The CME flashed a blazing white and dispersed harmlessly. The onrushing star gave off a shining trail of rippling light. As it spun this trail formed a disk and from the disk coalesced six arms. With a transition like that of hot metal ceasing to glow these arms became solid and enfolded the now contained sphere that gave birth to them. The end of one of the arms came to rest mere inches from the end of his gangway. He stepped through and the stattite withdrew the long extension.

His hand was already by his ear as he walked. "My thanks Lord Ligier. Your precision was, as always, exceptional. If possible, please send some distillation of Perronele, I wouldn't wish to be board during the trip."

[horus42]

Once everyone is aboard their ships, the fleet's engines roar to life. The fleet moves soundlessly through the Void, through the longest part of the journey, from the Damned Reaches to the nearest Canal entrance.

(Does anyone have anything in particular they'd like to do, during the first leg of the trip? If not, I'll forward us to the next plot point)

[Exthalion]

I am going to make a Twining Leaf Laminated Dragonscale Vest. I looked at the Return of Malfeas thread and the damage the Dawn and Journey's were throwing out was scary. DV halving charms would be nearly lethal.

[Empyreal]

As the trip proceeds, Reinhardt pores over the events to come and which have come; his thoughts drift to the waters of his homeworld, the ornate angelic fountains he recalls playing in as a child, and to those same fountains stained red with blood; he thinks to his escape and exile, his growth into a man, and learning of his allies' betrayals; he thinks to Valentine, the companion who loathes him, the crews who gaze at him in fearful awe of his genius and his wrath, the weight of expectation of the Stellar Intelligences and his new companions -- it is these last thoughts that consume his mind most thoroughly.

They do not respect his authority. The child cares not for anyone who would think themselves boss, being a brute and a brat, normal for her age. The scientists, ever awkward in the way such types trend toward, seem more focused on their gadgetry and their science than the organization of a group; and Valentine, once more, sweet Valentine, hateful Valentine, all too happy to put a bullet in his head the moment she believes her crew is safe.

"Thy feuds and thy struggles," he muses quietly, alone upon his command bridge. His capital ship, the immense carrier Crown Jewel, moves at the head of the fleet, his smoldering white eyes peering through the shimmering barrier over the bridge's transparent hull, permitting him full sight of the space around him without the need for monitors and surveillance equipment. He strokes his chin thoughtfully, watching as the immense, pulsing cityscapes of Malfeas vanish, the fleet cruising on momentum alone at full-speed toward the Canals.

A spoken word, a bit of dialogue, commands input into a holographic terminal display, and a communication channel is opened with the ship of Manah. The bridge darkens, the Sovereign cast in light alone, a three-dimensional user interface engulfing him and transmitting his image and voice to his fellow Infernal's ship.

"Thou art Manah, wisdom-bearer, world-builder; We saw thine intellect and We saw thy self-forge. We count thee worth weight a companion, and Our will be that thou comest upon Ours ship, that We might fraternize with thee." A hand extends. "We believe thy craft integral to Our success, and have faith in thy ability. Thou shalt have Our grace shouldst thou arrive, and thou must need knowest Our friendship is offered."

The signal ends then, the invitation sent. Reinhardt settles back into his chair, idly commanding his communications officer to pass further contact to him, and for the necessary crewmen to prep for a shuttle's arrival in the event his offer is taken.

What else? Ah, yes, the girl and the eerie man of science. A second message is sent to them:

"You to Our ship We invite, Our will that you come and gather, that this fellowship be strengthened and arranged in accord. We offer food and drink aplenty, and desire to know of your exploits and natures. Impressed are We by what Our regard revealed."

There, a casual invitation for everyone to come eat, drink, chat and get to know one another, in profoundly formal, archaic form.

And to the one already on his ship? Well, he hardly needs an invitation; Reinhardt sends Valentine to him personally. He seems interested in her, as the notice that her public file was accessed indicates.

[Volthawk]

Octavius seems to have no problem with Tristiana's questions, and seems happy to answer.

"Ah, that? Genesis-womb. I make life in there, in whichever form I design it. It works by itself, meaning that I can focus on other things while it grows and is shaped how I want it. As for space...well, there's only really this seating area, a small storage section and the cockpit, and I'm using the storage area for supplies and ingredients..."

His focus is taken by Xend calling the two into the cockpit, where Reinhardt's message plays.

"Well then, it seems we're wanted. Xend, you can keep the Titan on course while we're gone, right?" The only response he gets is a nod - Xend is never in the mood to talk when piloting, a trait Octavius has learnt of through similar scenes playing out with the two of them in the past.

[Mechanix]

"Wow." The explaination left Trist speechless for a moment. This made Octavius close to some of the weirder demons who crafted life in strange ways, like neomah making babies with bits of flesh, or those hopping puppetteers. He created it inside himself... That was pretty cool.

She tilted her head as she head the message broadcast by the Sovereign in his weird antiquated speech. He sounded a lot like some of the demons on the surface of Malfeas, actually - the upper-class one. Shame she'd grown up among the lower classes (who were much more fun) The Carouser stretched and cracked her neck, then smiled.

"I'll go ahead and wait you there," she said puzzlingly. Whatever could she mean? They were in space.

*

It took all of two minutes for Reinhardt's servants to notice the strange small shape coming up to the tyrant's spaceship and, in a quite absurd fashion, tapping at the airlock. It took considerably more time for the confusion to settle, the airlock to open, and the small girl surrounded in a crackling energy field to come inside and wait for the room to be pressurized, and for the door to be open.

"Hello everybody!" She greeted warmly, as if she hadn't just wandered across the deadly emptiness of space and the lethal radiations of vagrant stars. In fact, she looked just peachy. "I heard there'd be food, so I came. That's a huge ship you got there! Mind taking me to Mr King Speech?"

[Exthalion]

Manah sat suspended above the chamber floor. Around him currents of burning essence followed precise orbits, occasionally intersecting in bursts of light to reveal a component of crystallized metal or superfluid noble gas. When the Soverign's call came to him his concentration momentarily broke and the carefully controlled patterns became chaotic before bursting around him. As the generative essence bleed energy it spread across the floor and ceiling, wrapping around columns and conduits when it struck them, before solidifying into amorphous masses of fluoride and osmium.

"Well, that is going to be a joy to clean."

Even so, he was soon in one of the small craft bays boarding a shuttle. He arrived with far less fanfair than the the sociopathic wunderkind. He still wore the roughspun garments he had on Malfeas, so apparently it hadn't been as a shield from Ligier. When he saw humans on the crew he almost visibly relaxed.

He flagged down the nearest attendant. "Uh... " he cleared his throat, "Good sir, if it pleases you, I would that you thither to your lord, master after Malfeas Dysonian upon this craft, go and there pray announce mine arrival and convey that I, with all humility due to him, await his sufferance and good pleasure."

Please let me have said that right.

[Lirio]

Captain Helena Michelle Valentine, former Herzogin von Valentiner, had not said a single word the entire time on Malfeas. She would have preferred to stay on her ship, as she had no desire to be in the Prinz's company any longer than strictly necessary. Unfortunately, the Blond Brat had made it clear that her presence was not requested, but required. It wasn't worth an argument, so she ceremoniously wore a fresh uniform, her hat, and her sword to the meeting. Truth to be told, there had been little for her to say, but stubborn silence was the only act of rebellion she was permitted, so she did naught but glare coldly.

Alecto, the Death Avatar who Exalted Valentine, had warned that the surviving Stellar Intelligences regard the Tomb-Stars with paranoia and suspicion, and would think little better of an Abyssal. She had little doubt that Malfeas and his subroutines knew of her nature, but the teeming bioengineered races that inhabited his shell did not seem to. They all had shown her as much deference and respect as they had given the others gathered there. Perhaps they presumed her one of the SI's Chosen.

Regardless, Ligier had not acknowledged her presence, his eyes only briefly looking past her as if she did not exist. Perhaps that said everything. She was not trusted enough to acknowledge, but not distrusted enough to point out as a danger to the mission. An alien and discomfiting presence, but one whose leash was safely held by the Prime Sovereign. What an utterly loathsome thought, but true nonetheless, her freedom existed only insofar as the Brat allowed it, damn him!

And what of the others? Infernals she supposed, like the Prinz. The two scientists did not seem like much, and she found herself developing an instant, almost instinctive, dislike for the hunchbacked one. She would prefer to not deal with that one, but it was not her call, so she would content herself with steering clear. The one called Jorrad acted and talked like a thief, but did not quite move like one one. He implied to be a specialist in data retrieval, a cracker then, useful.

The girl, by contrast, seemed strangely likeable. Helena was not fond of aliens, though she did not love the handful in her crew any less for it. Still, she was finding herself liking the strange purple girl. Tristana was blunt and clear, and seemed willing to solve every problem with brute application of force. It was the opposite of the Captain's preferred approach, but there was something to like about the girl's, it was elegant in its simplicity, pure. She supposed her opinion would sour as soon the girl rammed past any attempt at subtlety, but for now Helena liked her.

Back aboard the Crown Jewel, Valentine remained by the Blond Brat's side, for he had not deigned to dismiss her. She watched impassively as the squadron undocked from Malfeas, the Siegfried visible at the front of the formation, the tip of the spear. Once all the ships were under way, Prinz Reinhardt turned to her with an amused smile on his face, and informed her that Jorrad had been snooping around their network for information about her. He 'suggested' that she personally deliver an invitation to Jorrad to join them for tea.

Some minutes later Jorrad turned around to find himself staring into the cold eyes of a woman he recognized as Captain Helena Michelle Valentine. He did not hear or see her come in. One second that spot had been empty, and the next she was suddenly there, face impassive, eyes glaring. "You've been asking questions about me," she said without preamble.

He would not have learned much from the files. A name, rank, age, home system and planet. She had been the commanding officer of the Heavy Cruiser Siegfried for the last decade, fought with distinction on behalf of the Royalists in the Heiligesmark Civil War, had been a mercenary in the intervening period, and recently took up the Royal banner once more. No real information on her personality or capabilities, nor any mention on the fact that she is Exalted, let alone what kind.

[Ronnoc]

It took far more effort then Jorrad would ever admit to avoid jumping into the air and activating his personal shield when he turned around and found Helena standing behind him.

After composing himself and processing her statement he replied, "Yep, I like to know who I'll be working with. Bill seems like the type to travel with an entourage but given that you were his only plus one for our little briefing I figured you were someone important. I had you pegged for a bodyguard, but Captain makes since particularly given that you fought for his home system.

So is there any particular reason for this chat or were you just curious about my curiosity?"

[Lirio]

A small smirk appeared on Valentine's lips as she saw Jorrad almost jump out of his skin. "I see," she said simply, volunteering nothing further about herself. "Prinz Reinhard would like you to join him for tea as one of his honoured guests." She almost reminded the uncouth hacker to mind his manners, but decided against it. It was not her concern whether others showed proper deference and respect to the Brat. A moment later she was gone.

[Ronnoc]

So a tea party with the gang? That was an unanticipated turn of events, and DAMN it she did it again! Starring in surprise and mild frustration at the spot abruptly vacated by Helena Jorrad ponders, Does she have an Essence gate hidden somewhere in that uniform?

Sighing in resignation Jorrad sets out in search of the other members of his merry band.

[Empyreal]

"Welcome, little miss," says one of the attendants who arrive to ferry Tristania to the Crown Jewel's private mess hall, a somewhat stocky woman with rust-red hair in a tight bun and a uniform signalling low rank. She's not pretty, but she looks gentle and motherly, and sounds similar. "Master Reinhardt says you're to be brought up to mess and given anything you'd like. We've got some candies, and look at you, so skinny, I'll bring out the jellied pork, put some meat on your bones." She clicks her tongue and leads the girl off, fretting over how underfed she surely is. Their trip is uneventful, barring some child-spurred catastrophe.


Manah's meeting is with a man rather less matronly than Tristania's, but no less polite, affecting the air of a genteel and stereotypical British butler. "This way, sir," he instructs, turning and beginning to walk. Along the clean white walls of the ship, red lights occassionally flash, indicating which passage to take, which elevator to get on, which door to go through. "Master Reinhardt will be with you shortly, and has asked that all guests be brought to his private dining quarters for refreshments. If there is anything you would like, you need only request it."

He considers speaking further, thinks better of it, and then smiles sympathetically, giving the Infernal an understanding nod. "If it please you, sir, do not force yourself to speak like the Master does. It is a unique habit that others find difficult and awkward to emulate; we will all understand you just fine if you act normally."

The others are brought by similar events -- the hacker, a younger man who knocks on his door and doffs his cap politely, and the genetic scientist by a polar bear dressed in off-duty civilian wear.

When all arrive, they find Reinhardt's personal mess hall a thing of entirely unnecessary ornamentation, the size of a ballroom, decorated in the manner of terrestrial palaces and manses: heavy with color and art and light, a grand oak table that could seat hundreds, hand-carved by masters; fine china, with an indulgent array of food and drink, meat and sweets, servitors of all kinds -- with an emphasis on attractive -- and music performed by a live band. Of all things, a live band. It's as if a king were feasting in ancient times.

At the head of the table that could comfortably seat a hundred sits Reinhardt, on a high chair, one leg comfortably folded over the other, a book open in front of him, and an alcoholic drink in hand. He sips, gazes at those who arrive at roughly the same time, closes his book, takes a drink, and rises to his feet. He raises a hand and all fall silent.

"We welcome ye to Our feasting hall, and it is Our prayer that your stay be a cherished one. We are once more Prinz Reinhardt Wilhelm von Heiligesmark, and this is Our capital ship Crown Jewel. Gathered are ye, so that we may eat, drink and make merry, to cultivate the bonds of friendship and the chains of loyalty."

He slowly sweeps an arm across the room horizontally, palm up, presenting it for all to see. The scent of roast boar, exotic wines, candies and more alien victuals is a heady mix, and the light of the chamber plays across the Sovereign's immaculate form, casting him in dappled shadow.

"If it please, take what you like. To command my servants is your right, to have all that you yearn for. We will retire elsewhere when all hungers sated and all thirsts slaked."

[Lirio]

Helena would have taken a shuttle back to her own ship after delivering the message to Jorrad, but the Blond Brat's summons intercepted her.

"And what precisely makes you think that I had dismissed you, my dear Valentine?" came the distinctive voice over the ship's address system, it sounded amused.

She stopped dead in her tracks and cursed under her breath. Through gritted teeth she said, "Your Highness gave me no further instructions beyond delivering the message. I did not think that you had further need of me. I apologize for my impudence and thoughtlessness."

Helena was most irritated, and not even at the prospect of spending further time in the company of her loathsome captor. His voice had found her not because he seen her, for she was sure he had not, but because he had anticipated her movements and intentions. It was a reminder of the reason why she remained in his thrall. The Brat was inside of her decision cycle, probably had been from the moment they met. So long as he could continue to predict and counter her moves before they materialized, her situation remained hopeless.

She quickly rushed to the dining room, arriving to find Reinhardt waiting for her with an wry grin on his face. She just glared at him coldly, took the seat directly to his left, and let her expression soften to a welcoming smile as the others arrived.

[Mechanix]

"...that's some damn huge ship," Tristania mused as she entered the dining hall. More like a palace, really - but a palace all of steel and plastic and metals. Which wasn't actually much different from the surface of Malfeas or Isidoros; she instantly felt home. The music wasn't her usual style, but she still liked it too.

Oh and also there was food. The girl's eyes brightened and widened, and in a moment she was out of the eyes of the motherly servant sent to fetch her, and already at the table, sitting directly to the left of Reinhardt; the bench under her creaked and groaned as her small girlish frame settled her 400 pounds of personal gravity field into it. She gave a quick nod to the Black Lady on the other side, and started to move with hyperactive swiftness.

"You brought me boar!" She exclaimed, amazed. "You're the best host ever. How did you know boar's my favorite?" Even as she talked, she took half a roasted animal and started tearing it to pieces with brutal efficiency. "On Isidoros, there are boars everywhere. They are, like, venerated by some of the demons or something, because Isidoros often calls himself a "black boar," but I'm an Exalt so no one tells me anything when I hunt them. Because that's why I like'em: they're huge and strong and fast, and I can hunt them down by myself and take them down hand-to-hand. Meat's always better when you've killed it yourself, don't you think?" The poor boar was now a mess of roasted skin and smoky, tasty meat, and she was already wolfing an entire leg on her own.

"I gotta eat a lot, you see," she said as she broke a bone with her teeth. "I apologize if I'm making a mess. Haven't eaten in half a day and it gives me cravings. Comes with having ceramic-ladden bones and plated skin plates, you see. I need a constant flux of protein to fuel my body. Also, this is awesome. And I really like your ship! And your girlfriend too. Your pirate outfit kicks ass," she complimented Valentine. "Are you a real pirate? A Space Pirate, I mean? That would be so neat. We could be a duo! We could, like, do what I did with the neomah thieves on Malfeas, where I come in some place yelling out loud and smashing stuff, and they sneaked behind everyone's back while they were distracted and stole their stuff. Or stabbed everyone if they were in a bad mood. Pirates are sneaky-sneak types, right?"

And down went the entire boar's leg. Isidoros' belly of wonders truly knew no bottom to its depths.

[horus42]

As the little dinner party goes on, the fleet finally reaches the entrance to the Canal. Each of the ships slip into the chaotic unreality of the Wyld, and begins the much shortened journey to Terhaute.

Every member of each crew is on high alert, in case the Shrieking Hordes decide to make an appearance.

[Volthawk]

Octavius eats in a less messy manner, although he appears to be no slouch when it comes to quantity of food eaten. He chews thoughtfully. "Boar. Never eaten boar before. Not bad. Not bad at all." His eyes move to Helena. "I don't think your lady friend there has introduced herself yet. What's your story, then?"

[Ronnoc]

Upon entering the dining hall of the Crown Jewel Jorrad is stunned. The sheer extravegence and variety on display is simply overwhelming. He didn't even have the slightest clue what was being served. On Hathsin your options for dinner were nutrient paste or more nutrient paste, barring the rare occasions when the Dragons managed to reroute one of the Warden's food shipments. As for the sphere's of the Pyrian flame the food is slightly more wholesome but singularly lacking in variety.

Sitting down across form Tristania Jorrad takes the young Carouser's exuberant assault as a recommendation and levitates one of the boars legs over to his plate. After trying a bite sized portion of the roast boar a wide grin spreads over Jorrad's face. "Well, I can honestly say that this is the best meal I have ever tasted. How do you manage to keep all of this" Jorrad makes an expansive sweep of his hand, "on a ship of the line?"

[Exthalion]

It isn't so hard really. Bulk nutrient stores combined with solid printing and growth vats will manage for the raw materials. Its just simple chemistry after that.

Though he had been excited to be invited, Manah was very nervous now that he was here. He had spent the last three years alone on a remote station and before that he had known or been introduced to anyone he was expected to work or socialize with.

The food was delicious. Even if he could have done better, there was something about having people to do things for you. Yet for all that he desired to tear into it all, fear of committing some faux pas kept him eating very small portions very slowly, constantly shifting his gaze to the other diners to watch how they did things.

[Lirio]

Captain Valentine eats and drinks with refined elegance, as is only proper for a woman of high noble extraction. She carefully observes and gauges the gathered company, looking for potential threats and allies. They all seemed very appreciative, though, no particular personality stood out as clashing with Reinhardt's or questioning his authority. More's the pity, for she had not really expected otherwise.

"I'm not his girlfriend," Helena said with a snort, as if the idea was amusingly ridiculous, "but I am a space pirate," she added with a wicked smile.

Normally, her eyes would have flared in anger at the mere suggestion that she was the Blond Brat's girlfriend, followed by her curtly and icily dispelling any notion that this was the case. Yet the girl continued to prove strangely likeable, with surprisingly infectious energy and enthusiasm. The deeply jaded and distrustful Captain found herself mildly bewildered by the sudden warmth she felt toward someone who was the kind of person she normally held in contempt. Perhaps it Tristana's obvious power, and that her optimism seemed rooted not in ideology, but in her own strength. Faith in one's unconquerable might was a kind of faith that Valentine could respect.

"I'm glad you like the outift, most people find it morbid and disturbing. The black roses, the skull and bones, and the death's head moth, it makes many feel the cold touch of deaths at their backs just looking at me. Not you though, you're a brave girl aren't you?"

Helena's words were true, death seemed to hang about her like a cloak, but the decorations on her uniform, the black rose adorning her red hair, only served to emphasize it. Its true cause lay in the impossible stillness of her person, the utter quiet of her body, the wraith-like grace of her movements. Most of all though, it was the murderous glee that seemed to glint in the Captain's eyes from the moment she admitted to being a pirate. The young Carouser was indeed a brave girl, for none of this seemed to bother her in the slightest.

"Most pirates aren't sneaky types child, but I am not most pirates." A slasher smile played on Valentine's lips, "Out in the space lanes, they sometimes talk of the Spectre. She's a legend, a myth, something spacers tell each other in hushed whispers, for fear that raising their voices call her to them. She's a shadow, a wraith, her ship can stalk you for days and you'll never see her until it's too late. One moment it seems you're alone in the void, and the next the Spectre's there, attacking you without warning. She's always gone before any help arrives, vanished without trace.

They say she brazenly attacked the ships of one of the Trading Clans, and they sent a squadron to hunt her down. They say that the Clan ships foolishly chased her into the body of a Tomb-Star, were they found naught but death and despair, and nothing was seen or heard of them again. The Spectre cannot be among the living, for she emerged from the Tomb-Star and continues to prey on the unwary to this day. There are other tall tales about her, but I like that one the best. What do you think?"

Perhaps there was a possibility in Tristana. The girl clearly liked her, and while she seemed like the Brat too, she was currently the best opportunity at having a sympathetic confederate in the group. There were no guarantees anything would come of it, but if she could cultivate a friendship with the girl, there was a chance, and that was much better than her present prospects.

[Exthalion]

"I think such stories betray a very odd misunderstanding of what death is."

It was probably rude, but it was how things were done by the upper castes. If they had something to say to you or an opinion on your conversation they just said it. True, it was likely that was because he was beneath them, while these people were not, but what else did he have to go by.

"As soon as there was Light there was revealed darkness. As soon as there was knowledge there was revealed ignorance. As soon as there was beauty there was revealed ugliness. As soon as there was life there was revealed death. As soon as there was righteousness there was revealed sin.

Thus, existence and non-existence require each other; subtle and the gross complete each other; enlightenment and ignorance emerge from each other; soft and hard define each other; still and moving relate to each other, and life and death follow from each other. The one with discernment therefore looks beyond duality. Like and dislike, passion and apathy, fear and courage; all exist only because the problem is framed incorrectly.

Apropos your uniform: a black rose is one which does not reflect color in our visible spectrum, bones are calcium-rich rocks with a low structural entropy, and the death head is simply a symbol which has a meaning that is entirely arbitrary. It is like the snakes of the caduceus, it means only what the viewer takes it to mean.

Oh, I also think you rather enjoy being a legend because it makes you feel as if your actions matter more than the material or psychological benefit they bring to you. That is not a criticism, it was just such a drive that brought me to where I am now, simply an observation on the sentient condition."

[Mechanix]

Tristania was drinking up Helena's story, eyes and mouth wide open as she was told about the Spectre's venture into the Tomb Star. A Tomb Star! That was the kind of thing even she had never done! Tomb Star were like Yozis, only... Dead, and... Dark and evil and threatening. She'd always wanted to investigate a Tomb Star, to which the usual reaction of her caretakers was to lock her somewhere safe until the whim was gone. To meet someone who actually had gone into a Tomb Star made her downright gleeful; it was like Captain Valentine was a hero in her eyes.
"I loved that story! You must tell me others whenever we have time," she said joyfully as she breaked a heavy bone in twain to suck out the marrow. "I have stories too, but not many. I am still young and my caretakers always tried to prevent me from doing something too dangerous until I'd learned enough about my powers to handle myself. Which is silly, as I've always been able to handle myself. I was fighting Erymanthoi in boxing matches before my Exaltation even catalyzed!"
She eyed the captain thoughtfully, and smiled again. "But you are right. Your costume is spooky. The rose and the skulls, that makes a nice contrast. Also you look like you could kill me with a glare, and few people can do that." Incredibly, saying this made her giggle. "I hope my saying this doesnt bother you. I don't mean to disrespect you. I'm just not afraid of anything!"

The boast was punctuated by a raising of her cup to Valentine, as a fellow fighter; though Tristania enjoyed combat while the captain's aura of dread and slasher smile made it look like she more enjoyed murder, those were close enough for the Isidorite. As she put down her cup, Tristania frowned. "I meant that literally, by the way. I made myself physically unable to experience fear when I was ten. It was supposed to come with the whole supersoldier package, but my designers thought I'd be easier to control if they could threaten or pressure me. I showed them what I thought of that. Now I need to learn the skills to evaluate wether a situation is a lethal danger or not analytically, because I don't have a fear response to do it on instinct. That's why I spent some time on the Principle of Hierarchy, to learn analysis. It was boooring."

Tristania's ability to switch from simple childish talk to scientific elaboration on the physiology of her body was one of her oddest features; she certainly could have gone on about reflexive control of adrenaline pumps to release strength boosts on command, but that didn't seem quite appropriate to the conversation.

She was about to ask for an elaboration on the Tomb Star story, but Mannah intervened, and she fell silent as she tried to puzzle what he was saying. What a strange man.

"...I don't understand a word of what you're saying," she finally answered. This was all very perplexing to her.

[horus42]

Suddenly, one of the Crown Jewel's crewmen bursts into the room, interrupting the dinner party. He salutes briefly, his eyes wide with fear.

"Captain Valentine, ma'am! Our sensors have picked up a large contingent of Raksha vessels in our path. What are our orders?"

[Empyreal]

Prinz Reinhardt watches, stone-faced leaning toward courteous, as the other Exalted drift in, figure out their seating arrangements, and dig in. There is an awful lot of cultural assumptions built into how one eats: the order in which their silverware is used, how they respond to their servitors, if they are silent or talkative, appreciative; if they burp loudly or clear their plate or nibble and push it aside; if they argue, or praise, or condemn; the manners in which one behaves during a meal suggests quite a lot indeed about the nature of a character.

And so the Sovereign's blank neutrality cracks and he smiles, warmly, smoldering eyes roaming over the gathered crowds. There is Tristania, coming right next to him: she feels at home. The boar was the correct choice here, and she digs in ravenously and without pause, famished and comfortable. She is not one for manners or formal dinner parties, but she will be easy enough to get along with. There is Valentine, speaking to her already, and an amused chuckle tears itself from all gathered's host. Of course she's jockeying for favor, did she not realize that's precisely why he brought her here? Poor Valentine, always clever but coming up short. A base cunning he appreciates in a servant and a tool.

He gazes at Jorrad, meeting the man's eyes and holding contact confidently. "Upon Our vessel we carry endless base victuals, dry of wet and taste. Through manufacture, organic material is grown, flavored, synthesized, and the alchemy of Our engineer-chefs one with other does join. Thou art welcome to be shown the process later." In other words, take dull, uninteresting and artificial ingredients for nutritional and chemical value, grow various organic material in the proper vats, cook the two up together and get succulent flavored meat, vegetables and the like. The joys of 3D printing in the modern world.

He leans in, giving Tristania a look. "Thou wouldst a fine pirate make, Our lady Tristania. We did behold thy trip 'twixt star and ship, and marvel did we at thine abilities. Rare is the ship that will detect a lone hero who can, with smile and glee, rip a hole in the hull barehanded lost of regard for danger. Thou wouldst need learn the trade-tricks, is all."

There you go, Valentine. An excuse to assume a big sister slash mentor role with your hoped-for tool. Even your traitorous ambitions are gifts he gives you.

It is then that Manah speaks, earning a confused look from the girl and an agreeable nod from the Sovereign. Good: Manah is not going to win himself any friends. Judging by the clear nervousness with which he refused to eat, despite the hunger they surely feel after their stay on Malfeas, he's not comfortable with himself in unfamiliar social situations.

"Thou art a clever thing, Tristania," he begins, lifting a fork. "Hast thou ever seen a boy, fair of voice or features? Thou may'st thought him honey, and then he did reveal in soothe that stupid chatter and condescending view become him, suggesting that thy maidenhood and thine age makes thee weak or needing protection." He jabs the fork forward, briefly, aggressively, smiling. "So thou pop'st him one in the chin, and the fool boy falls, still honey but no more sweet. Thus didst thou learn hate and love travel in pair."

He pauses a moment, takes a drink. "Such is how it is. Thy boar didst end meet that thee couldst feast, life from death. The universe does pair things, and it is our wont to decide amongst them right, wrong, and all in-between."

Hoping the lesson sticks, even if only after she thinks about it some, he begins to speak again, only to have someone barge in -- and address Valentine before him. Burning hot with wrath and pride, he stands, turned on the foolish crewmember. Fire burns atop his brow, tongues of green flame crowning a searing white halo, as his voice resonates through the whole of the area, through music and chat and above the myriad noises of the world, broadcast through his ship by the proper systems.

"To combat positions fighters make ready; raise shields and open communications pon Our throne. Decelerate and align point defenses and primary weapons; maintain distance, adjust course wide-left, look for openings. Hold thy fire to Our command."

He turns, still crowned in fury and command, gazing to Valentine. "Thy ship and thy skill may prove their use today; begone to thy ship anon, and vanish from all sight and sensors sundry."

To Manah, Octavius, and Jorrad. "Your martial supremacy be to Us unknown. Make ready your weapons and your vessels and your aggression stay; talk may yet bring unmolested peace, and the intent of Our guests be draped in ignorance still. If ye noncombatants, attend Our throne."

And finally, to little rebellious and prideful Tristania, who requires a more delicate touch lest her own powers betray her. "We may need thy skill and thy skill alone most, little one," the man begins. "Thou knowest what thine intent must be if it come to blows."

Pivoting on his heel, the Sovereign exits toward the command bridge elevator. "Ye gathered to positions marked. Bring up full area sight, and await orders."

The mantle of authority fading from burning sight above him, he disappears to his personal bridge, along with whoever comes with him. There he will be given a full map of the area, the enemies and his ships, and the violence or the negotiation will begin.

Just passing out orders to all gathered, crews included. I don't really think there's any need to roll this, the Charm aesthetics are just from his permanent effect; what it does mean is that the crew are going to obey promptly and perfectly.

A bit about the crew: every one of them is in the position their abilities and skills are best-suited for, as Reinhardt is capable of seeing such. There is no wasted talent or ambition. More importantly, each and every one has been blessed by Right Hand Ascension, which gives them a Motivation of service to Reinhardt focused on what they're best at (the fighters want to fight well to help him conquer and succeed, the cooks want to cook well, etc., etc). What this does is turn their stunts into automatic successes and let them get up to (my Essence, so 3) automatic successes on Conviction channels.

So, they're pretty swell.

[Volthawk]

Octavius doesn't seem concerned at all by the Raksha vessels incoming, and focuses on how Reinhardt acts. He's rather impressed, to be honest. "I'll stay here, then - I'm not really a fighter, and Xend is a big enough boy to know what he has to do - hell, he's had a lot more experience with Raksha than I have." A pause. "You might want to get in touch with him, though, to make sure he acts in accordance to your plan. He probably won't cause needless problems, but syncing up with him would probably be best."

[Ronnoc]

Why can't things ever go smooth? Jorrad thinks to himself. We haven't even reached Terhaute yet and we're already under attack. Rising from the table Jorrad addresses the others,"I'll head to the cyberwarfare suite, if they open two way communications I can play havoc with their systems. If they keep it to burst transmission though I can only help if they try boarding us.

[horus42]

Xend briefly responds, in a noncommittal tone. He agrees to go along with the Prinz's plans.

When Reinhardt arrives at his throne, a crewman says, "Your Highness, the Raksha have opened a hailing channel."

Before he can say more, the holo-screens on each of the ships flickers to life, and a Raksha noble appears on screen. She looks mostly human, but for her eye-patch, pointed ears, white hair, and blue skin. On her face is a manic grin, and she speaks Galactic Standard, with an antiquated accent associated with the golden age of piracy.

"Yar, avast ye! I be Sarkoja of the Red Sun. Identify yourselves, or prepare to be boarded!"

The crew stares for a moment, wondering whether she's serious. Then again, the Raksha aren't known to be rational, and mold themselves after stories and legends told in Realspace.

[Mechanix]

Reinhardt's explication, despite his antiquated speech, proved more palatable to Tristania than Mannah's; she could indeed perfectly relate to the experience he described, having had to punch several boys in the nose for being annoying in that way. She looked at him thoughtfully as she assimilated the concept of duality, which she had never really considered before. It was interesting; would that mean that Captain Valentine herself would, in a way, take part in a balance of life and death? Strange. But if their mission succeeded and they restored Malfeas to a state that was not in constant world-scourging hatred, then life would come from the deaths unavoidable in this mission. Strange thoughts.

Before she could give it more thought however, another servitor came in the room with a christmas present, and she leaped to her feet, washing down the last of her food with a keg of water; the familiar confusion of a spaceship about to fight was recognizable around her, despite the changes brought by the incredible size of this vessel. Her attention drawn by the Sovereign's burning crown, she made a mock salute, smiling. "Aye aye, sir!" Certainly, she would have done what she wanted anyway, but it was nice to be officially authorized to do so. She followed Reinhardt, thinking that he would be the first informed of the exact situation and that therefore by staying with him she could actually react faster and more accurately.

And then there was another space pirate, immediately putting this day in the pantheon of the greatest days of her entire life. She could not resist but to clap her hands in glee. Before the actual master of the place, or anyone really, had a chance to answer the oulandish fae's demand, she jumped to the holo-screen.

"Ah! You have no idea. We are Exalted and we are here on business, and I would sooo like to come down in canal space and blow you all up myself, but we don't have time. Get out of the way or we'll conquer your asses! We have so many ships, there won't even be a scrap of paint to tell anyone you were here! I am Tristania Sky-Twisted, and this is the HSS Pack Up And Get Off, over!"

Well that went swimmingly.

[Empyreal]

When Tristania speaks up, the Sovereign's eyes burn, and he interjects decisively, military doctrine running through his mind.

Feign weakness in a position of strength.

"We are Prinz Reinhardt Wilhelm von Heigilesmark and company, commander of the Crown Jewel and accompanied vessels. We are unaffiliated with any terrestrial military or merchant empire, and as such We invoke the right of fair parlay as neutral entities to establish trade accord. What be thy demand, o Red Sun Sarkoja?"

Roughly twelve hundred years ago, when that pirate ensemble was in vogue and talking like that didn't get you laughed at, there was an idea of parlay, negotiations between pirates and non-hostile entities where arrangements could be worked out that would profit the pirates without resulting in unnecessary loss of life on either end -- it was, in short, a bastardization of the ancient terrestrial rites of parlay, and amounted in truth to nothing more than an unlawful tax the pirates could collect without bothering with fights.

Still, this woman seems keen on being a pirate, outdated and unnecessary as it is. Why not play along with it and change the situation to one that suits him better? The longer he can keep her talking, the longer Jorrad has to infiltrate their electronic systems and conduct cyber warfare. Speaking of which, another tenet of war runs through the Sovereign's mind:

Use your advantages wisely.

Briefly, sound is cut off from the transmission, though nothing apparent changes on it. This message is sent to Jorrad and the cyberwarfare suite alone:

"When thou dost acquire entryway to Our enemy system, still thy fingers and stay thy wrath; establish a rear-access point and evade'st detection from unrighteous eyes. On Our signal, eliminate shields and sails."

Good. An Exalted hacker ought be able, if the pirates are using primitive systems tech modeled after ancient ships, to get inside their computers, stay undetected, and take out their engines and their shields if only for a few precious moments. That is all that might be necessary.

He gives the boar-loving brat a smoldering look, then returns his attention to his command bridge, where now a star-map has appeared as the lights dim, providing him a complete and real-time map of the area, his forces, and the enemy's arrangement.

[Exthalion]

Well, this turned out about as bad of an impression as I could have feared.

Manah had immediately departed for the small craft bay to return to his ship. There were no crew members aboard and the ship's computers were terribly under powered. Unformed might be a better word to describe a ship who's substance was identical with its energy, but that was a technicality he wasn't in the mood to explore.

Once he had attained to the bridge, which resembled little more than a hardlight platform floating amid a representation of the area. He was about to direct a message to the Peacock of Malfeas when he stopped.

"Why am I letting him take the initiative? He wants to be the leader and I do not, this is true, yet I have no particular desire to be lead by him."

So he didn't report readiness, but simply transmitted, "Please splice me into your comm system so I can see what is going on."

[Ronnoc]

It's funny that the moment that Manah starts talking about objective reality, the raksha show up. Standing amid the glowing haptic displays of the cyberwarfare suite Jorrad ponders his options when a data feed began transmitting. The Raksha's hail is a two way sustained link using extremely simplistic code, indicative of pre-femtotech computing. As the message plays out Jorrad shakes his head in wonder at just how far the fair folk will go to stick to their story.

As soon as the Raksha's message ends an internal message from his royal highness prince Bill is relayed to Jorrad. "Don't play your hand to soon, wait for my signal then shut them down."

So it seems that the princeling has something up his sleeve let's see what we can do to play into it. For the initial infiltration Jorrad decides to use something simple and unlikely to be unnoticed, a trojan virus nestled in the Prince's translation programming that was being beamed over to the Raksha vessels. The program would replicate, spreading among the ships systems until the transmission was cut off, triggering stage two.

For the actual attack that the virus would unleash Jorrad wanted something special. There was some truth to what Manah had said, the universe is an objective place and all the symbols that humans cherish ultimately only have the power we give them. For the Raksha however symbols held true power. Starting with the basic geometry of his power, orbiting spheres, Jorrad shaped a ship wide kill switch that incorporated not only the nature of his Anima but the Raksha's traditional weakness, iron. Iron 56 is very nearly the most stable isotope in nature and bane to the creatures of dreams and so every line of code, every destructive script was written in base 56 it's very nature poisonous to the computers that would run it.

O.k. according to shard beating them at hacking should give me free reign of anything there computers are running in this case to shut them down. I'm accessing them from a remote system so that's a minus four penalty I'm going to pay ten motes to my excellency and burn a point of willpower for a free success.
hacking role Int+Wits*2-4 [roll0] plus one success from will

and then stunt dice I'm hoping for a three dice stunt if you don't think I get it I'll emulate Empyreal and drop dice off the right side of the roll till I match your ruling [rollv]3d10[/rollv

[horus42]

The Raksha captain frowns. "So, ye be Exalted, and carry no cargo nor treasure?" Sarkoja seems thoroughly disappointed by this.

"And ye invoke the right of parlay... Damn to Terminus whatever bilge rat thought up parlay!" She slams a fist on the arm of her chair. "Yer lucky, I won't be attackin' ye. Unless ye break the terms of our peace." With that, she grins maliciously.

(And Ronnoc, go ahead and take two dice for that stunt)

[Lirio]

Captain Valentine received the call from her ship just as one of the Crown Jewel's crewmen burst into the room. She ignored the fool who would report to her instead of the Brat in his presence and own ship.

"Captain, this is Siegfried. Probably hostile contact."

"I read, Siegfried. Go ahead."

"One Raksha ship, radial 20, bearing 285 by 073, from your position. Ancient design, gaudy decoration, overdone pirate markings, no further identification."

"Understood, Siegfried. Stand-by for further orders."

"Roger."

There was no need for Helena to order her ship to action stations. Her XO would have done that as soon as contact was confirmed as non-friendly. A few moments later she found herself pleased to hear Reinhardt instructing her to follow her own inclination: go to her own ship, vanish, and wait in ambush for the right moment.

"Siegfried, this is Captain Valentine."

"I read, Captain, go ahead."

"Activate shroud and take up position on Crown Prince, radial 5, bearing 263 by 149. I will rendez-vous with you there. How copy?"

"I copy: Activate shroud, take position on Crown Prince, radial five, bearing two-six-three by one-four-niner. Expect your rendez-vous at position."

"Good copy, Siegfried, execute."

"Wilco and out."

Helena paused to smile knowingly at Tristana, for this meant they might get to work together sooner than either of them thought. Then she bolted out of the dining room and down the hallways to one of the hangars. There she put on a space suit, and quickly boarded one of the pinnaces, taking off to rendez-vous with the now cloaked and invisible Siegfried.

The warship was expecting her, and would broadcast a small narrow-beam beacon to guide her in, but it was a dangerous enough manoeuvre in normal space. Within the insane chaos of a canal, it bordered on suicide. If either she or Siegfried was off position by even a little, she would miss the beacon, and either collide with the ship, or careen off into distorted unreality of the canal.

With the utter calm and confidence of a true expert, the Exalt flew the little pinnace at high speed into toward where the much larger warship awaited. Even an experienced pilot would have found it nerve-wracking, for the beacon's signal was weak, short-ranged, and very narrow to avoid detection by anyone else. She drew closer and closer to the indicated spot, a short countdown on her navigational computer indicating the time she had left to abort or commit.

Only in the last moments did the nav picked up the beacon, and Helena carefully followed it, guiding her vessel into the open hangar bay awaiting just behind the invisibility shroud. Some minutes later she was striding into the warship's command centre, where Siegfried's Executive Officer handed command back to her.

[Ronnoc]

On the command bridge a simple text message arrives for Prinz Wilhelm displayed on a holographic screen angled outside the Raksha's field of view. It reads, "Alright Wil, the virus will kick in as soon as you break the connection with the Raksha. So make sure you've got everything in place for when you stop talking.

[Empyreal]

The virus will hit the raksha as soon as communications end; that wasn't quite the signal Reinhardt had in mind, but it is sufficiently within his parameters to work with. All it means is that he needs to communicate clearly, effectively, and within a single conversation.

"We are divest of plunder what would intriguest thee, o Sarkoja. A scoundrel of thine enlightenment knowest better than to engage in a fight where damage reward outweigh."

The Sovereign smiles dangerously at that, the burning of his gaze evident even across the projection showing his image to the raksha and her crew. The basics of piracy: be swift, be sudden, and don't try to pick on someone your own size. And especially..

"We extend to thee and thine an offer most gracious. Thou art a noble thief, well and soothe, who to code and principle dost adhere. Take thy ill-gotten raiments, thy jewels and thine emblems stole, and offer to Us thy wealth as tribute. In accord, We will grant to ye pirates the honor of sanction, to pillage and raid Our enemies in the name of the most supreme Heiligesmark. Thusly blessed, thy wicked ways be turned to profit and dignity, and thy merry band of would-be hero-thieves shalt find forgiveness for thy trespasses against Us, to search for glory and fame on Our righteous mission."

And especially..

".. shouldst thou deny Our generosity and mercy .. "

The Crown Jewel ignites. The anima circuity spread throughout it absorbs the sudden outflow of power from the Sovereign at its head, arcs of white light tracing their way across Essence-channeling wires and geomantrically pleasing designs etched into the hull, the ritual technology funneling the cosmic might of the self-righteous into sword and shield. Illuminated in light, the ship stands in stark contrast to all else around it and the wildness of the Canals, bathed in heatless white fire that coils and surges and explodes outward in a neverending coruscant pattern reminescent of a star going supernova.

When Reinhardt speaks now, the voice of civility is gone. He is not the gentleman feasting his companions, the general commanding loyal troops -- he is the king enraged, every word dripping promise and fury, eyes wroth. The air burns as a baleful halo sears itself into existence above him, ornamented with green flame.

".. thy ragged band be done. Thy ships will lie scattered and broken, thy plunder burned to ash; thy crew that dost live in miracle will to chains be put, marched before Us to their enslavement. We will find all thee have madest covenant with, all thee have wronged, all thee havest praised or buggered in thy life. They We will break, slowly and surely, until this universe has no tongue save Our own that can speak the name Red Sun Sarkoja. Run and We shall hunt thee. Fight and We shall slay thee. Beg for mercy and We shall ignore thee. The legend of Red Sun Sarkoja will not even be a tale of caution in measure."

And especially never pick a fight with someone who's bigger than you.

"Bend thy ****ing knee."

The entire presentation is broadcast directly to every ally and ship there, as well.

Right now, Reinhardt is making a Performance attack against Sarkoja and her crew (and his own crew and allies, albeit indirectly). I suppose Presence might fit here better, but they're both at 5 so it doesn't really matter. Full Excellency, +10 to the roll and +8 to his Appearance rating, channeling Conviction -- this is definitely a pretty hard-ass threat and he fully intends to go through with it if pushed. Spending from peripheral, so anima power is a go, as are the anima circuits and a low-level anima banner. The only effect here is Cosmic Tyrant Decree, rendering the attack unnatural and undodgeable. Furthermore, all PMDVs are dropped by 2 courtesy Empyrean Mandate Tongue.

The goal? Well, he's encouraging submission to his forces without the need to murder them all, and doing so generally by invoking terror with a dash of awe. In the event they refuse, well, he's got stealth ship, Exalted combatants, group buffs, heavy armaments, and the hacker at play!

Charisma 5 + Performance 5 + 10 Excellency: [roll0]

Stunt Dice: Each one becomes an automatic success

Five automatic successes, Appearance is 13 for the attack. He's down 18 peripheral motes.

[horus42]

The Sovereign's words have a visible effect on Sarkoja and her crew. Though she herself regains her composure quickly, so quickly that to the untrained eye it would appear to never have been lost at all.

"Aye... So our choices be to turn Privateer or die? Hardly a choice at all, I'd wager." She stands from her chair and sweeps the old-fashioned hat from her head, while taking a deep bow.

"We be King's Men now, m'liege." She stands again and asks, "What would ye have of us?"

[Mechanix]

Reinhardt's wave of unnatural charisma and heatless fire washed over Tristania, and even her, who had transcended fear entirely, had to admit that she was impressed. More than that, really; she felt her heart cease to beat for a moment, standing near that human bonfire. Even as the tremor of the Sovereign's ultimatum faded, his blazing anima remained, bleaching the whole room in white fire. She felt - for a second - the desire to bend her ****ing knee.

She did not, though. She shook her head, rejecting the influence. He wasn't the first one to try to impress her with magic; her will was strong and, more importantly, trained. While the fae on the holo-screen understood her position and submitted, the girl moved back towards the communication pannel, flickering white light dancing on her violet skin.

"So I don't get to smash them? How sad. I was looking forward to the fight!" Silly fae, coming at a force that was so overwhelmingly more powerful than them, and challenging them head-on. What would they do with such a ragtag band of pirates? Maybe she could take one with her. After all, she liked pirates.

Then an idea suddenly struck her, and she clapped her hands in excitement.

"Oh! Perhaps we could tell them to be our diversion for our mission? If people think a planet has been attacked by a raksha, they won't come looking for us!"

She felt so really clever right now.

[Exthalion]

Thrice Damned be all your works! And you Cytherea Astropoiesis,
shrouded in transcthonic depths with empty labor for companion,
who saw fit to appear a vision of world-making-glory undimmed,
delighted to world-make this servant curse for my own sake!
To rise so high that kings were the dust upon which I tread,
this, it pleased you to grant me. Yet here is the collar still,
that in your lies it seemed a crown! Shall I also bend knee?
To exchange service of men to gods? This is a cruel thing.
Of petty tyrants I might boast Fate's accident or impiety,
Birth is a little thing to make slave and master of men.
Yet here is a king made for kingship, whose equal I,
shall never be. What purpose then remains to me?
Save to bind hell to the anvil and there to make,
treasures for the glory of his kingdom, raging
forever against the mighty in my weakness.
Already my spirit cries out to bend,
To set aside volition,
To kneel.
NO!
I can not!
THIS I WILL NOT DO!
I am not you Cytherea Skhedomegas.
Though merciless, Divine Order is mine also.
You, servant to what you will cause to come,
She, happy slave of that which you brought forth.
I, maker and the lover of what I have made, contain,
All. Therefore, let him wear his flaming crown and burning eyes.
Mine is the crown of the whole world, my eyes are the light of all suns!
I am Manah World-Maker! I am Manah Life-Bringer! I am Manah All-Source! I am I-Myself!
This very hour I resolve, with my own voice, to be more than the simple sum of all things that have come before.
...

He was about to say something else when he stopped. The first thing he noticed was that he was still on an open channel to the Crown Jewel. The second was that in the middle of ranting he had felt his essence stirring in a way similar to but unlike the charm schema of either SI he carried. The embarrassment he would normally felt washed away as he considered what that could mean.

"Declination of Atzmus actual to Crown Jewel actual. Sorry about that Reinhard, my mouth was running without the rest of me instructing it too. Once you are done with your new acquisitions feel free to come over to discuss it. Until then, or we arrive at our destination I have some implications to consider.

May He Who Malfeas Will Become strengthen your endeavors. Declination of Atzmus actual, out."

[Ronnoc]

Jorrad stands alone in the cyberwarfare suite, a myriad of holographic displays orbiting him, and the information web of Reinhardt's flotilla at his fingertips. As the essence of his fellow exalts voices play war in glimmering light before him Jorrad feels true fear for the first time since his exaltation. This is not the first time he has seen the verbal strife of the exalted, the argent governor of his homeworld was prone to such displays at the start of the Demonic liberation. It is however the first time that such a voice was loosed among Jorrad's companions, and it is the first time that a sliver of Jorrad's soul, a nook he didn't know existed, heard the voice of Theion and found it's dominance just.

Alien thoughts play across his mind, Of course they shall bow, as shall I, as shall we all. The foundations of the universe, it's inescapable pattern demands obedience unto the king; and, and These thoughts are not mine. I bow to no man, and to the stars themselves offer only what I choose. Heaven's sun couldn't chain me and his replacement won't either.

Tearing his thoughts free of both the words of the Sovereign, the echo of Theion, and the crystal clarity of She Who Lives in Her name Jorrad seizes upon the exuberant suggestion from Tristania as a point from which to steady himself.

A flurry of typing and Jorrad's holographic avatar appears upon the bridge of the Crown Jewel. "Tristania we are not unleashing a Raksha horde on an unsuspecting pre-canal civilization. This is a stealth mission and according to these battle plans", a flick of Jorrad's wrist conjures the relevant files from the Crown Jewels computer, "Wilhelm already has a contingency smokescreen planned for us."

[Volthawk]

Octavius is quiet for some time after the Prince's speech. Then the grin returns, and he begins to slowly applaud him, before getting off his seat and bending on one knee.

"Well then. You've convinced me, with your command of your troops and your speech, that you're worth following. What are you orders, sir?"

[Empyreal]

Flush with victory, the king's blood sings in his veins, resonant with the Essence of triumph and command that bathes him in a cocoon of light. With but a promise and a belief, he has brought others under his sway; merely by declaring his intent did his enemies submit to him in trembling terror, and even his allies have responded -- stronger of will than the pirates, to be sure, but they responded, they defined themselves for a time in either accordance or opposition to his will, declaring him the prime axiom of the universe. He can feel the euphoria building inside him, the gratification, the scratching of an itch and the fulfillment of a holy mandate.

Hallowed be Our name, Our kingdom come, Our Will be done.

He exhales, his power flowing from his mouth like so much smoke and fire, and smiles, dread-eyed and bearing the crown of the universe.

"Thy men and thee shall accompany Us on our trip, during which you shall make covenant with Us, formal pledge to the glory and righteousness of Prinz Reinhardt Wilhelm von Heigilesmark and fealty-oath to Our rule. Then shalt thou receive instruction and direction, and be granted Our blessing to pursue all victory."

During the trip he will extract formal oaths and promises from the raksha, and once that is done he will set them loose on the Heigilesmark System, with a communications relay back to him and instructions on who to meet up with, what to do, and where to find resources -- namely, meeting up with his allies in his home system, the ones opposing still the new social order, and running interference on supply lines and the like. They're privateers, now; any blow they strike against his enemies fills his coffers and expands his reach.

To Octavius then the man looks, gazing at him as he takes a knee. His charmed sight roams over the man, reaffirming his knowledge of his strengths and self-identity, but not finding him truly loyal, not yet; that will surely come with time. As it will to all of them.

"Retire to thy chambers for now. We will gather you all again soon; Our mission need be explained fully, and Our plans for this destination must be conveyed and have counsel brought upon. Thy wisdom and expertise shall prove integral."

He glances aside, looking at the radiant star-map projected into the command bridge, and signals it to turn off.

"Victory be Ours, triumph without blood. Subjects, make way back to calm and recreation. Return to non-combat posts and accelerate. We are done here."

The man says nothing aloud of Manah's monologue; that will be addressed in private between the two.

Looking down toward Tristania, he smiles, softly patting her on the head.

"Not this day, little one. We shall have the desserts brought out anon in apologies."

[Lirio]

On the bridge of the cloaked Siegfried, a feeling of discomfort pervaded among Kapitän Valentine and her command crew, as they watched Prinz Reinhardt von Heiligesmark bend the Raksha raiders to his will. It hit close to home, a painful reminder of a situation the most of them had pushed out of their minds. As she staring coldly and stony-faced at the surrendering Raksha, the memory played itself in Helena's mind's eye:

That same Sovereign, in all his blazing glory, crowned in white and green, stood on the Siegfried's bridge, making the very same demand: Bend thy knee. And herself, eyes burning in cold fury, pistol pointed at the smirking face of that insufferable Blond Brat as he simply stood there, utterly confident in his victory.

And he had been right, damn him! She could have shot him and made a run for it, she could have escaped with her life and freedom, but the lives of her crew would have been forfeit. Among the few people she loved and cared for in the universe, they were the only ones who had survived through more than a decade of warfare and strife. They who had lived and died together, their bonds forged in fire and blood, inextricably chaining them to each other and their ship. Tearing out her own heart would have been easier than abandoning them.

The worst part was that her officers urged her to kill the Brat and run, that they were willing to die for her, just as she had been willing to die for them. They urged her to do it, they begged her to not sacrifice herself for them again. Her men and women feared and loved her more than anything else, and they could not let their Kapitän sacrifice her freedom for their sake. But neither could they disobey her will, and there was no other choice she would take. When Reinhardt reiterated his demand a second time, Helena gritted her teeth, holstered her pistol, and whilst removing her cap, bent knee to her new Master.

Now, as the unpleasant memory replayed in her head, the Abyssal Exalt reminded herself that she was bowed, but not broken. Though he had taken possession of her ship, her crew, and her body, the Sovereign did not yet rule her mind and spirit. He could constrain her actions, but not her thoughts, and so long as that remained true, she could hold on to the hope that one day she would kill him.

Valentine had learned to take refuge in that small comfort, and in little acts of rebellion, but in that particular moment it did not feel like enough. Anger and hatred howled inside of her like a blizzard, stripping all warmth and solace from her. She so very much wanted to get back at the Brat, to strip him of this victory, to make it hollow and meaningless. She knew it was pointless petulance, that there would be consequences, but for one brief instant, she did not care.

"What, is he collecting pirates now?" Helena muttered with dark humour. Then her voice rose to a tone of command, spanning across the bridge, "All weapon batteries train on designated target, Red Sun, and make ready to fire."

The Siegfried's Executive Officer, Stefania Shaw, gave her Commanding Officer a look. No words were exchanged, but the meaning was clear to Helena: Are you sure you want to do this? She was, in fact, pretty damn sure she wanted to do it, but she was also sure that she did not want to endure the punishment that would follow. As the commander of the ship, she could not and would not let her emotions rule her.

"Do not open fire on target unless it engages in hostile action or attempts to flee. Disengage cloak and take up position near the target, let them know that they are being watched in case they think to try anything."

Kapitän Valentine sat down, feeling an intense weariness wash over her. She was back on her ship, with her crew and away from the Brat. It was her home, her family, each of them was the only support that they and her could count on. Yet she knew that she would not be there long, for exultant in his victory, Reinhardt would want to share it with her.

It was only some moments later when the expected call came in, "Valentiner, to Our chamber thou shalt come anon."

Helena was still angry and upset, still needing to rebel somehow, and so she replied with acerbic sarcasm, "Why not show your hospitality to Sarkoja instead? She actually asked for it, I did not."

"Perhaps. Our chambers, Valentiner," came the curt reply, followed by the end of transmission. Valentine exhaled in frustration, even the pleasure of an argument was denied her, but she would still not give in completely.

"Fregattenkapitän Shaw, I have business in the Crown Jewel and must away," Helena said after standing up. "Have a shuttle ready for me on the port side hangar, I will be there shortly. You have command of the ship until my return."

They exchanged salutes, and Kapitän Valentine briskly walked toward the officer's mess. There she would acquire a bottle of strong drink, and down it all on the way to see the Blond Brat. She might be required to spend time alone with him, but by no means did she need to do so sober.

[horus42]

Captain Sarkoja nods. "Aye, sir. And I thank ye for yer generosity." She shouts orders to her crew, and the message is relayed to her other ships, which follow yours through the unreality of the canal, towards the planet Terhaute.

(And now here's a chance to do anything you'd like to do before we actually get to Terhaute.)

[Mechanix]

The rest of the trip was uneventful, and Tristania was slightly frustrated that she didn't really get to do anything. Regardless, she had eaten delightfully, met the fascinating Captain Valentine, and spent the rest of her trip in a huge bug-machine-armor. This was pretty cool. Sven the mysterious pilot wasn't one for idle chat, which led to her bothering him ceaselessly in hopes of getting some reaction, but she ultimately decided to just keep training. In the small cramped space of the ship, she honed and refined her Essence through push-ups, liftings, sit-ups and other exercises, which gave some peace to her companions of travel.

When they arrived to their destination, she felt better than ever, as it the world could never keep her from going forward. This would be a fine day.

[Ronnoc]

Despite the disturbing harmony between the Exaltation within him and the Sovereign's words Jorrad did feel better as he descended from the cyberwarfare suite. A minute of extra work before returning to the dinner had granted him a backdoor to the suite and the ships schematics should he ever need a rapid departure.

As the hours of the flight passed on Jorrad focused on his telekinetic abilities streching the number of objects he could maintain and the effects he could conjure. By the time they reached Terhaute Jorrad was confident of his new tricks.

[horus42]

The fleet, now followed by the Raksha ships, exits the Canal and enters real space. The journey to Terhaute takes about twelve hours.

Once there, the screens flicker to life, displaying a map of the planet. A world of extremes, of highlands and valleys, and two groups of people, the primitive, brutish Ter, and the more advanced and civilized Haute. Both groups are human, though the Haute have the Blood of the Dragons flowing through their veins.

A few small, artificial satellites orbit the planet, in addition to a large, uninhabited moon.

[Empyreal]

Once the group arrives in Terhaute's long-range orbit, the Sovereign calls for a gradual deceleration and a switch into stealth modes. Various systems activate throughout the ships, moving to scramble foreign electronic and radio signals, and the heat ventilation systems are altered, storing the excess within the vessel so that it does not leave a trail through space. It is profoundly unlikely the planet has any technology that can actually detect them anyway, but it's simply good practice to maintain order and give it your best in all situations. A thorough and disciplined mind is an ever-ready one.

"All make ready and beholden to our plan. Squads One-Two-Five-Eight descend upon the hemisphere western; squads Three-Four-Six-Seven cast off to its opposed. Thou shalt not seekest to engage the natives, sad and crestfallen from catastrophe immemorial as they be. We come this time with purpose sidelong sovereignty, to obfuscate Our bitter rival pursuit and beat haste against ground and temple-quest. Establish perimeters yonder, sweep for objects of note or cultural significance, defend and escalate not. Obey Our orders and mission charter. Go!"

Bearing the crown of the universe and burning eyes, Reinhardt himself moves with his own squad of two dozen armed men and technicians. The groups will take smaller shuttles down to the surface, more easily masked than any large ships, with the Sovereign's group including the Infernals that chose to come and landing in a safe area near the temple manse. There's work to do, and by golly, he will enthusiastically oversee that work while the rest labor.

[horus42]

The crew goes about following Reinhardt's orders to a T, none of them hesitating for even a moment, as they perfectly and efficiently land about the planet, to spread rumors and misinformation about the group raiding the Manse.

The shuttle carrying you all lands not far from the Manse, in one of Terhaute's many deep canyons. Scans show that there are human life-signs nearby as well, though one would assume that they belong to the primitive Ter, and should pose no real threat. Unless something unforeseen comes along.

[Mechanix]

The ground creaked under Tristania's weight as she stepped down from the shuttle, taking a deep, happy breath of the afternoon sky. She stretched out, looking at the towering cliffs surrounding them, and took a few steps. At last she was outside! She much preferred the open air, the breeze on her skin, the horizon forever in reach, to the cramped metal space of the starships. She smiled brightly. "Was about time we got down those tin cans. Any of you brainiacs got a plan, or do I just take the head and we move along?"

[Lirio]

Valentine strode out of the shuttle, walking to the left and a little behind Reinhard. Her person apparently immune to the effects of the sunlight: there was no lustre to her copper hair, no shine or reflection on the dark grey of her armour. Even her pale, rosy skin seemed indifferent to the source of the light. She looked like someone would on an overcast day, despite afternoon sun blazing above the lip of the canyon.

With the air of a professional on the job, her aquamarine eyes scanned the area for threats. Along with her protective proximity to the Sovereign, it gave her the appearance of being his bodyguard. In a very real sense she was, much as she loathed the man's proximity. His safety was tied directly to the safety of her crew, and so she could not allow any harm to come to the Brat, no matter how much she wished it to.

"We should move quickly," she said. "I will spot any ambush before it's sprung, so there is no advantage to a deliberate advance. Let us take the initiative while we have it, do what we must, and leave before anyone takes too much notice."

A woman with Ominous Portent Method laughs at Ambushes!
Also, might as well roll Per+Awe to get a feel for the area we landed in.

EDIT - Roll removed, screwed up the syntax and used roll instead of rollv. New roll below.

[Empyreal]

The Sovereign walks with fearless ease at the head of the assembled forces, his shuttle left with a skeleton crew behind in case a rapid evacuation is necessary. He has brought with him a fine squad of marksmen, technicians, medical personnel and a pilot, each of them equipped with state-of-the-art personal shields, body armor, sensory equipment, breathing masks, and other assorted items useful to a highly advanced galactic society. The Sovereign himself has an expensive shield, shimmering in place around him, announcing his presence clearly the way the light hits it.

"We are come", he declares, lifting a hand and cutting it forward, directing all to progress with due haste. Unlike his guard, he seems to absorb the light and intensify it, his eyes white fire and his hair glittering like fine jewels. "Life does dwell nearest us. Our estimates name it the Ter, primitive and adaptive; We predict no threat, but savages ever risk ill intent and primal thought, and the pulsing heart of the Dragons beats in the blood here as Our footsteps do. Be vigilant."

He gives Tristania a brief look as she waddles along. "Our plan is to walk. The distance is small; vehicles are unnecessary. We arrive, conquer, depart. As all problems are wont to be solved."

[Lirio]

Roll from prior post:
Perception+Awareness" [roll0]
Stunt: [roll1]

Count stunt dice from left to right according to stunt award level.

[Ronnoc]

Shielding his eyes against Terhaute's sun Jorrad sidles around his shuttles to join the rest of the crew.

"Well it's a lovely day for a walk and I have to admit that it's nice being off ship for a spell.

Truthfully Jorrad didn't know whether it was a nice day or not. Hathsin's days were lit by red sunlight chocked with acrid fumes and the days within She Who Lives Within in Name never changed at all. That said the somewhat stark valleys did have certain beauty to them. After a moment of concentration Jorrad let's out a contented sigh as he pulls the Essence patterns of the land into focus, the manse blazing like a beacon in the distance.

I'm activating Essence-Dissecting Stare for six motes and I'll go ahead and roll perception + awareness too. Just in case something invisible is about. [roll0]

[horus42]

Captain Valentine is able to perceive that there are various caves scattered throughout the canyon, most likely home to the various tribes of primitives. As for the Manse itself, it's within sight, just a few hundred meters away. No one seems to be around it, but it's possible that someone could be inside.

As Jorrad looks about for things that no one could perceive, he finds that there's a flow of Essence through the ruined Manse, meaning that it might still be active, or that something is causing a flow of Essence from the inside, possibly through worship, or other Essence technology.

[Mechanix]

"Onward and forward, then!" Tris said cheerfully. If ambushes were impossible and the Manse was so close, there was no reason to delay their advance. Taking the head of the group on account of considering herself to be the best fighter, she advanced at a brisky pace, eyes around her looking for trouble. The scenery wasn't as dull as she'd feared, at least.

[Lirio]

Helena points out the caves on the walls on the canyon, "The area looks clear, I don't see any danger. No sign of habitation or human activity, but there may be people hiding in those caves, so everyone stay on guard."

With that she advances slightly ahead of Reinhardt, falling in just behind Tristania, sharp eyes wearily looking for danger. The Kapitän moves quickly, with wraith-like grace and disturbing quiet. She doesn't seem to walk so much as glide, steps and armour deathly silent, footprints nearly invisible on the dirt and gravel of the canyon floor.

Where Helena alone it would almost seem like someone muted her soundtrack as soon as she stopped talking. Sadly, the effect is partially lost by the crunching steps and clanging armour of the Prinz's soldiers behind her, who protectively close around their liege and cover the rear.

[Ronnoc]

"We may want to re-think that advancing openly idea. There's still Essence in use at the manse. I can't make out what sort yet but I'd prefer not to walk straight into a manse that could be attuned by a brotherhood of Dragon-blooded."

Jorrad extends his unnatural senses towards the manse, the flood of information being catalogued and cross-referenced as quickly as it pours into him.

I'll go ahead and roll Intelligence + Occult to see what if anything I can make out of the particulars of the Manse [roll0]

[Exthalion]

"Or worse, is on the verge of blowing up as they are wont to do when damaged."

[Mechanix]

"Sure, but the more we wait, the more chance we have of the natives showing up and asking questions. This includes the guys with actual tech, who have the most Dragons. We did just fall down from the sky in a flying metal can, you know? That's noticeable, and they have good reason to be afraid. People do stupid stuff when they're afraid. Not that I'd mind a good fight, but I'm here to protect y'all squishy types. If you're scared of the Manse, maybe you want I should just transform and go into there myself?"

[Empyreal]

"If there be life in those caves, dark eyes and intent Our way cast, that is reason to go forth," declares the Sovereign, his pace remaining a focused but comfortably languid speed. His eyes burn with fearlessness, lighting the path for those behind him to follow. He does not explain himself further aloud; it is the place of others to follow his lead. But he reasons to himself there are only two options here, if people live in those caves: they were detected, and thus a cautious advance merely slows them down and does not help them stay hidden, this is an ambush prepared for them -- or, far more likely, they just so happen to be natives that live in the area, quite likely in the caves because of the extreme temperatures beneath the sun in the baleful valleys, and they can capitalize on the mystique they hold as unknown visitors, great in number, wielding magic and technology unknown, and trust on the natural wariness of primal humans to keep them away. Man did not develop into the universe's apex predator by picking fights with strangers.

"Life is not a child's make-believe, filled with starry-eyed doom and miraculous happenstance. The manse yonder will not erupt in conflagration simply because We have set foot; haste be upon you, and take heart in the victory your own capability safeguard. You will not falter."

[Lirio]

Valentine rolled her eyes at the hacker's idiotic suggestion. They'd come down from the sky in broad daylight, landed a few hundred metres from the manse, and in plain sight of it disgorged two dozen heavily armed and armoured men. It was too late for subtlety. Her pace did not falter, and she continued to advance determinedly, there was no point in wasting time.

[Ronnoc]

Jorrad stood shaking his head in bemused resignation as Bill's entourage continued stomping towards the manse.

Jorrad couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong. The manse was supposed to be unoccupied and inert but something was clearly going on there. When your intelligence is bad you change gears, even abort and try again. You don't go charging straight in as though everything was fine.

Realizing that the rest of the group was rapidly pulling ahead of him Jorrad jogged forward to catch up muttering, "Just don't blame me when everything goes catastrophically wrong.", under his breath. As he catches up with the squad Jorrad begins mulling over his view of the Manse again, trying to discern something useful before they reach it.

[Exthalion]

Manah had hung back a bit and when Jarred caught up he was fairly close to him.

"I find it odd that he should make so bold a claim. While the manse may not explode, we are all standing here because not less than six of the most unlikely of coincidences occurred.

The galaxy may not run on narratives, yet we most certainly do. If it reduces your anxiety any, that cuts both ways."

[Volthawk]

Octavius strolls along with the group, chewing on another chunk of...whatever creature he was eating in the meeting with Ligier.

"I'm sure we can handle whatever's in there. Don't let your fear hold you back, my man. You need to take risks, to push forward, in order to evolve and improve."

[horus42]

As the group advances to the Manse, it becomes clear that someone had recently been there. Most of the dusty floor of the canyon was smooth and windswept, but there were marks in the dirt in front of the door, showing it had recently been opened.

[Mechanix]

(what does the Manse look like?)

[horus42]

(...I knew I was forgetting something.)

The Manse is definitely in ill-repair. It looks as though no one has touched it for hundreds of years, though a few new patches would imply that very recently, someone began to fix it.

The door is massive, and made of White Jade, intricately decorated in swirling patters of the other four colors. The roof must have once been ornate, but it has, for the most part, collapsed. Windows dot the various stories, some dark, and others with flickering lights. The windows on the fourth, story are nearly all broken, due to the roof having collapsed.

(Jorrad is able to determine that the Manse is rated at 3 dots, and is attuned to Earth Aspected Essence)

[Mechanix]

Ah. People. Now this could get interesting. Tristania approached the marks and crouched, trying to study them. This wasn't her corner of space, and she had never had any training as a hunter or tracker - but she had grown up on the surface of Isidoros, and in the black forests and blood-red swamps of its wilderness roamed the fierce behemoths borne of the same kind of bioengineering experiments that had created her. Learning to recognize which hoofprints was imprinted in the mud, which claw mark had torn that tree apart, could mean life or death. She hoped she hadn't forgotten it all already.

Trying a Wits+Survival roll to get information from the traces near the door, only with Survival 0.
[roll0]
Stunt:
[roll1]

[Empyreal]

The Prince's men know how to enter a location when the area is unfamiliar: one man takes point, the others guard the flanks, and then they push forward behind the point man, fanning out and establishing a perimeter. They begin to do this at Reinhardt's unspoken command, making a silent gesture with his hand that indicates this common order. Even as the others move or investigate, the military Sovereign is engaging in deliberate, practiced protocol, eyes ever on the prize before him.

His eyes briefly run over the footprints Tristania is investigating and the spots of modern repair here and there on the manse. The lack of progress suggests a recent start and slow going -- unsurprising, given the relatively low level of technology available to the locals. The place has likely attained some cultural or religious significance.

All of that can be figured out later; they can investigate the area after they have secured it. He makes another symbol with his hand, rotates his wrist in a quick circle and points two fingers forward. The point man pushes open the manse door as the others take cover at the sides or level their weapons toward it, precise and cautious.

[Lirio]

The Day-Caste walked past as Tristania bent over the foot prints, stepping up to the door and vanishing through it. On the threshold between inside and outside, just as she went out of sight of the others, the Abyssal's form began to blur and fade like smoke dissipating in the air. In a few moments she was completely invisible, and the strands of Fate connecting her to the Grand Celestial Mountain tangled on each other as she slipped free from them. At the same time, her anima silently reached out around her, muffling sounds and bending shadows to her advantage.

Helena knew that that the soldiers behind her would execute a textbook tactical entry, but she wanted to clear the way herself first. An invisible scout would be able to flank and ambush anyone who responded to other's intrusion with violence. The soldiers would also be able to advance with greater confidence knowing that someone else lead the way.

Carefully keeping her movements hidden and below notice, the Kapitän stepped a short way inside the Manse, looking around for any threats or dangers.

Activating Unseen Wisp Method and the Day-Caste Anima Power. The charm makes Helena invisible and outside fate. An invisible character imposes a -2 external penalty on any attempt to perceive, attack, or defend against her. The anima power imposes an additional -1 external penalty to any attempts to see or track her. Rolling to establish difficulty to spot her.

Dex+Stealth: [roll0]
Speciality "In Darkness" if applicable: [roll1]
+2 sux from 2nd Ex, doubled if above speciality applies.
Stunt dice doubled if speciality applies: [roll2]

Also rolling to look around, see if i spot anything interesting.
Per+Awe: [roll3]

[horus42]

From what Tristana can tell, the footprints near the Manse's doors belong to humans, or humanoids, and they were barefoot. She can also tell from the varying sizes of the prints that there are multiple individuals, though she can't pinpoint exactly how many.

The Prinz's forces move towards the doors while Valentine moves in, unseen. The deathly Essence granted by the Tomb Stars hides her from mundane sight, and as she slips through the door, unnoticed, she sees that there are three men in the foyer of the Manse, armed with crude bronze weapons and armor. It would seem that the primitives of this valley are more advanced than the records showed, but to an Exalt, the difference between Stone Age and Bronze Age was nearly the same as that between a microbe and an ant would be to any other human. They were nothing compared to her.

[Mechanix]

"We're not alone," Tristania relays to the others who stayed behind. "Barefoot humanoids went through there. I'm guessing those were the primitives we've heard about. Should be fun." She stood up, staying at the front of the non-combattants, and tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for the stealthy pirate woman to give the all-clear signal.

[Lirio]

Valentine keyed her comms piece and very quietly murmured, "Three men, metal weapons and armour." They were not really worth betraying her presence for, the Brat and his men could deal with them just fine. She carefully began to pick her way around and past the primitives, maintaining absolute silence, and staying close to the shadows. She headed toward the heart of the Manse, where the Hearthroom would be.

[Mechanix]

Three men in weapons and armors. Tristania scoffed, and shook her shoulder to drop her cloak, revealing the vine-like moonsilver tattoos that crept up her hands and forearms. She stretched again, then called out to Reinhardt:
"I'm getting bored. Three men ain't nothing for me. Tell your soldiers to stand down and retreat; I'm about to rock this place."
She smiled a mischievous smile, and walked directly towards the house, leaving the Sovereign only time enough to realize that she wouldn't wait for an authorization or order and summon his men; she slammed the door wide open, and bellowed an inarticulate challenge as she walked in. She did not attack immediately; it was only fair to leave these poor devils a chance at picking up their weapons before she came down on them like twenty tons of ass-kicking.

[Ronnoc]

And there it is. Personally Jorrad had expected Will's arrogance to get them in trouble before Tristania's but in the long run it wouldn't make much difference. Any chance of subtlety was officially out the window.

Dashing around the column of Will's men who were in the midst of reorganizing themselves after Tristania's dynamic entry. Checking a safe perimeter around him Jorrad began assembling his personal constellation in a flanking position behind the young Exalt. Fallen roofing tiles, shards of glass and the debris of centuries levitated at his silent command and set to orbiting Jorrad at ever greater velocities.

Gazing out from the storm of projectiles, caste mark burning bright Jorrad calls to Tristania, "You realize that one of the main advantages of having a team is making a concerted assault right?"

I'm activating Orbital Impact Storm for five points of peripheral essence and positioning myself so that it isn't currently catching anyone. Also does my essence sight discern anything of interest about the three Ter?

[Empyreal]

Reinhardt hardly bats an eye when his plan goes south, Tristania choosing to demolish the element of surprise and leave it weeping in a corner. Barking a quick order, the Sovereign's troops enter in and fan out, one of them reaching down and tossing a small object toward the men, small and ringing as it bounces across the manse's weathered floor. It rolls, slows, wobbles, falls over..

.. and then there's a loud BANG and a sudden burst of light, the flash bang grenade echoing throughout the manse. His soldiers spread to take cover and surround the trio as the other Exalts provide the main force. They level their weapons and order surrender in Galactic Basic. If they don't understand that language? Well, violence just might be an option.

Calmly, the Prince walks through the open room, feet sliding across tarnished stone and cracked dirt. There is a pillar between him and the violence, and those troops not busy supporting the other Infernals accompany him. He makes a few quick military gestures and they move to secure the area, locking down all exits and running scans on the area, checking for life signs, movement, and to get a general floor plan of the manse.

He leaves the fighting to the combatants, contributing only one message:

"We need take one alive."

[horus42]

The men yelped in surprise as Tristania entered the room, raising both their swords and shields. Before they could react, the flash-bang grenade went off, blinding and disorienting them. The tiny Carouser shrugged off the effects, in a way that would have made the Black Boar that Blots out the Stars proud.

Reinhardt's men come in, guns leveled at the three disoriented primitives, and when asked to surrender, they set their jaws stubbornly. One the one hand, they do seem to understand Galactic Standard, but they also seem determined not to give up. Or, quite possibly, they have no fear of firearms simply because they do not know what they are.

One of them sheaths his blade, while the other two stand behind him, still ready to fight. The one without a sword removes his helmet, revealing that he has close cropped blonde hair, and a growth of stubble on his broad chin. He's short, but not overly so, and very well muscled.

"My name is Kester Vinnal, Captain of the Guard. I can see that you people greatly outnumber us, and hold powerful magics. What would you have of us? Might there be a chance for peace?"

(Jorrad doesn't notice anything unusual about the three Ter with his Essence Sight)

[Ronnoc]

Guard Captain? Interesting, that doesn't sound like a title that the Ter would have invented. Could these be a contingent of Haute securing the Manse?

"Good Day Capt'n, this manse holds a wellspring of power drawn from the earth itself. My companions and I seek to spend some time contemplating this well, after which we intend to leave peacefully. "

Technically Jorrad isn't lying, he wants to get to the Hearthroom and download the schematics while avoiding a fight. If they conclude that he's attuning to the manse that is entirely up to them.

[Mechanix]

"Ah! Peace." She wanted to scoff at the notion, but these guys had just taken all the fun out of it. There was no entertainment in slaughtering powerless mortals who were asking for a peaceful resolution. She groaned in frustration. She'd wanted a fight. "We're just swinging by because this Manse is interest to us. As long as no one makes any trouble, we'll leave this place without taking anything material with us, and leave the Manse untroubled. No one gets hurt, no one even loses anything.
'course, I have to mention that not only do we have magic powerful enough to kill you all, mine also deals incontrolable collateral damage and could bring down the whole building. This would make any heroic sacrifice not merely futile, but actually counterproductive.
Just sayin' in case you got yourselves any ideas."

[Empyreal]

The Sovereign shakes his head as he listens to the rest talk, conversing briefly with his men as they take technological scans of the area. He motions for Valentine, who he knows is watching him, to keep going; she is the superior scout here, and if there are others, they will likely make their presence known soon. Better to have forewarning than not.

Let's see, so far they've both admitted interest in the manse, Tristania has given hints of her power, and the guard captain is intelligent and more advanced than one would initially think. But still a primitive -- Reinhardt might let them live, yet, if those proves beneficial.

For now, he'll just see how the others negotiate.

[Lirio]

Past the three guards, down the passage leading to the hearthroom, and at the furthest extent for the line of sight from the foyer, Helena was indeed watching Reinhardt. There hadn't really been any need, they could communicate with their comms pieces, yet she had stopped to watch her companions enter the Manse. She did not know why, and mild puzzlement turned to frustration and annoyance when the Blond Brat motioned her to continue forth. He knew she was there, even when she did not know why herself, he definitely knew. The wordless signal could not have been meant for anyone else.

Exhaling slowly, the Abyssal pushed those thoughts from her mind. It was no time to dwell on such things, she was a professional on the job, and there was work to do. Once again stepping carefully and keeping to the shadows, she progressed deeper into the Manse toward the Hearthroom.


To save time, i'm just going to roll now to look around for the next interesting location my character comes across.

Per+Awe: [roll0]

[horus42]

Kester swallows nervously after Tristiana speaks, his companions still on guard. "I must ask that you come no further, I'm afraid. My Lords would kill me if I allowed such strangers into their Temple home. They too possess strange magics..." He takes a few steps back, standing beside his fellows. "We must make a stand..."

Meanwhile, Helena passes down the hallway, still unnoticed by all. She comes across a spiral staircase that leads deeper into the Manse's architecture. She ascends it, silently, and proceeds into the vast Hearthroom. Once there, she sees that the room is heavily manned, with a group three people,(one man and two women) carrying themselves with the air of nobles... or Exalted... overseeing the repairs. Their tools and methods are still crude, implying that they're natives.

[Mechanix]

Tristania shrugged. "That's what you believe, sure," she said to the captain. Then, nodding to one of his men: "What about you? And you? Got any kids at home? A wife waiting for you? Think it will help them if you die here? Perhaps you can be a hero. I'm sure it's cool to grow up with a dead father, as long as he's a brave hero who died fighting."
She shook her head, growing tired of the mind games. A predatory smile painted on her lips, she cracked her shoulders, as her skin tone and iris shifted to a deep crimson.
"All right then. Let's get on with it. Imma give you the first shot. Come at me!"

[Ronnoc]

"As my friend is fond of noting you don't really stand a chance against us. We're not from this little world and our powers are set as far above your masters as the heavens are set above the earth. What do you owe them? Stand aside and I promise we will keep you safe."

While Jorrad spoke he shaped a tendril of his will and cast it out through the essence circuits of his Anima and into the guard captains mind. The spark of Pyrian flame began sifting through the guards memories as though they were any other database seeking the answer to the question "WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT YOUR LORDS?"

I'm using analytical modeling intuition on the guard to learn the answer to above question and hoping that the surge of memories may cast his loyalty into a poor light. [roll0]

[Volthawk]

Octavius grins at Jorrad's statement, revealing his...impressive maw, skmething more at home on a predator than a human. "Why, we could more than just keep you safe! We could make you into far better specimens than you could ever hope to be otherwise!"

[Ronnoc]

Narrowly resisting the urge to cradle his forehead in his palm; Jorrad mutters to Octavius, "Ixnay on the elpinghay"

[horus42]

The three guards look terrified, both at Tristana's confidence and Octavius' vicious grin. Kester stands quite still for a moment as his mind is assaulted by Jorrad's Essence. His mental defenses fall easily to the Defiler's attack, allowing him a degree of insight into the Ter's mind.

Jorrad:
From what you can tell, Kester's lords are three people, who are, in fact, Exalted. They're Dragon-Blooded, a brutal man named Zedi, and his wives Ixash and Kimsny. Zedi himself is a powerful Earth Aspect, and is the most notoriously violent of the three. Ixash is a Fire Aspect, and his right hand and enforcer. Kimsny is an Air Aspect, and smarter and kinder than both of her fellows. She's the one who's figuring out the Manse and how to repair it, though it's slow going.

As the tendril of Essence passes from his mind, he shudders. "My brothers... These people cannot be stopped. But... we must buy time for our fellows to escape..."

And he takes Tristana up on her offer, striking at her with his bronze blade.

(Roll Join Battle!)

[Mechanix]

"Yes! That's the spirit!" In flux with her emotions, Tristania's colors shifted, her skin growing a darker red, and the tattoos on her arm glowing silver. She stomped the ground and cried an inarticulate shout of defiance, calling her opponent to come to her.

Wits+Awareness:
9d10
Stunt:
[roll0]

[Ronnoc]

(roll for join battle [roll0])

[Lirio]

Valentine keyed her comms again and spoke very quietly into it,"I've found a large number of people working on repairing the Hearthroom. Crude tools and equipment, probably natives. There are three overseers with proud and noble bearing, one man and two women. If any here are Exalted, it is they."

Drawing her pistol, she carefully moved into a position from which to ambush the three overseers. There was no way to know how things were going back in the foyer, but from the traffic she was getting, it was a fair bet that things were about to get real interesting.

[Ronnoc]

Tapping his com while watching for an opening in the guards' stances Jorrad whispers, "Valentine the three exalts are married, the man is a thug named Zedi, the fire aspect is his button-man, the air aspect and tech in the group, Kimsney, may be reasoned with if you get a lever. Try taking a hostage if you can."

[Exthalion]

[roll0]

"Well, perhaps something can be salvaged from all this. Their body parts are sure to be laden with the esoterica required for artifice. Or they might surrender and abandon their lords for us. Either way, we win."

The words were scary enough, yet the lack of conviction behind them spoke volumes.

[Mechanix]

She scoffed at the blade, moving with the grace of a dancer. There was little skill in her actions: reflexes had been ingrained in her body since before her birth, her nerves enhanced to provide a response-time lower than should be humanly possible. She dodged out of the way and breathed in, her right hand closing into a fist, and she hit the ground with the strength of a small meteorite crashing down - the ground of the Manse erupted and a shockwaved of air, pushed back, slammed into the three warrior like a truck, hundreds of stone shards impacting their bronze armor; the blow reverberated through the wall room, shaking the place to its foundations.
"...and that's how it's done."

3m on Behemoth Shockwave Pound, which applies the blow to all enemies, objects and structures in a three-yards radius; 4m on the Isidoros Excellency to make sure it gets through, for a dice pool of 21.
I am making this a Maiming attack, meaning I take a -1 external penalty on the attack roll, but if the blow should kill the three mortals, it instead inflict any amount of damage I wish, and one Crippling effect. In this case, Tris is going to put them in Incapacitated and break their arms.
[roll0]
Stunt:
[roll1]
Base Damage is 12L.

[Empyreal]

The earth shakes as Tristania is moved to rage, the Sovereign walking further on in the temple. As the Carouser's titanic blow shakes the manse and pulverizes the ground, a window overhead breaks, a rain of glass shards falling around Reinhardt.

He cuts through the rain of glass and the beams of sunlight now falling through the ruined ceiling, sparkling amidst the dust and detritus, and relays his orders to Valentine and his troops via built-in communicators.

"Valentiner, thy gun draw and focus: firest disabling shots at the leader, male; incapacitate him and secure'th a new exit, that Our servants might breach and aid. Men, swap to non-lethal sidearms; electrocute and paralyze the woman who for flame does yearn. You will provide support for Our Valentiner and prevent escape back to us. She will pursue flight else and yonder."

So ordered, his troops rapidly deploy, having already been behind Valentine. They will wait until they know her attack is imminent, and then descend upon the group, taking tactically sound positions behind cover and providing nonstop fire.

Reinhardt does so love sudden, overwhelming force. That said, they are Dragonblooded.. caution will be necessary. And improvised adaptation.

[Exthalion]

In a shell of consciousness Manah was unmoved. Dust and fragments of ceiling fell around him and a tiny exertion held him just high enough off the floor for the shaking to pass him by.

"Is it wise to deploy your troops against Exalts? While not our equal, the result could well be very like what just occurred to their mortal servants."

[Empyreal]

Reinhardt smiles, hearing Manah's voice in his ear.

"Watch."

[Volthawk]

Octavius nods. "Well, I'd like to see how your troops perform, so by all means, go ahead. I'll need a good idea of their current abilities to know what to improve."

[Lirio]

"Understood," Kapitän Valentine said curtly in reply to Prinz Reinhard's commands. A small, predatory smile played across her invisible lips. Though she loathed being commanded by the Brat, she would not let this ruin her enjoyment of a sprung ambush.

Adopting a fighting stance, Helena levelled her gun at the three Terrestrials with a smooth movement of her left arm, carefully aiming taking aim the male Earth Aspect. Meanwhile the spider like device on her right arm bracer slid forward unto her hand and activated an energy shield. Quickly and quietly, death loomed over the unsuspecting Terrestrials, for the Abyssal had no intention of using less than lethal force.

After a moment's stillness, she fired three rapid shots; marked not by the distinctive snap of a pulse pistol, but by the eerie wails of vengeful ghosts. The first bolt of invisible energy hurtled toward the male Dragon, carrying with it the agony of a lingering and inevitable death burning him from the inside out. The second and third bolts screamed down toward the female Dragons, each dragging a terrifying plasmic visage along with them.

Okay, springing an Ambush. The difficulty of detecting Helena has already been established, so the three DBs get to roll against it if they haven't already. They suffer a -3 external penalty from her invisibility and Anima power. The get an additional -2 internal penalty if they are focused distracted or focused on some activity, or a +1 if they are weary and actively suspect danger. Success on the roll means they get to join battle, failure means they don't and their DVs are inapplicable until i reveal myself. If one of the three succeeds they can warn the others, who can then Join Battle themselves but still remain without their DVs.

They all get to Join Battle and apply their DVs after they are attacked, or they witness an attack on another. A flurry of attacks against a single target only benefits from surprise for the first attack. Rules are unclear on whether a flurry of attacks directed at different targets would benefit from surprise against all of them. i would say yes, but ST's call on this one.

When my action tick comes up, i'm aiming for two ticks, then doing a flurry of three attacks. Hopefully benefiting from surprise! All attacks are enhanced with Screaming Wraith Bullet, the first is also enhanced with Gnawing Bullet Thrash.

Join Battle: 10d10
Attack 1 vs Earth: 13d10
Attack 2 vs Fire: 9d10
Attack 3 vs Air: 8d10

Stunt: 3d10

All attacks do 9L Piercing damage. A hit will stun the target until their DVs refresh twice. Stunned characters suffer a -2 internal penalty to all non-reflexive actions. Additionally, the first attack adds 2 dice to post-soak damage, and if it inflicts any levels of damage the victim will start bleeding out as a Crippling effect.

[Lirio]

Hmm, rolls didn't work last post. Trying again:

Join Battle: [roll0]
Attack 1 vs Earth: [roll1]
Attack 2 vs Fire: [roll2]
Attack 3 vs Air: [roll3]

Stunt: [roll4]

[horus42]

After Tristania's fist connects with the floor, the shockwave knocks the three guards into the walls, cracking their bones with a sickening wet sound. They fall to the floor, their armor crumpled. The three men are alive, but barely. Their breathing comes in wet, ragged gasps, and it's clear that Tristania rendered them unconscious.

In the meantime, Reinhardt's troops advance towards Valentine's position, their guns held at the ready, though set to nonlethal means of fire. They stay back, still out of sight, though the sound of the tiny Carouser's attack has alerted the three Terrestrials and their followers to the assault.

Zedi looks up, and shouts, "Who DARES intrude upon my home? Men, prepare to defend your lords and gods!"

The men drop what they're doing and draw swords. And at that moment, Valentine makes her move. The bolts of energy pierce Zedi and his brides, causing panic amongst the men as their gods are wounded before their eyes.

[Mechanix]

Tristania stood up, flexing her hand. It felt good to let out a little. She looked at the men, quickly checking that they were still alive. Had she been going too hard on them? It was hard to tell, given how squishy humans were. Those poor devils were brave enough to face with her, or perhaps too terrified of whoever gave them orders; they deserved to live, and their masters deserved to die. The Carouser took a deep, satisfied breath, and turn her heavy pace towards the stairs: time to show these Dragon-Blooded what for!

[Lirio]

"I'm afraid you've been ambushed by the vanguard of a superior force," Valentine's flat and matter of fact voice came from the seemingly empty spot where the unexpected attacks had originated. "I would suggest surrender," she continued, cold cruelty creeping into her voice, "but allowing Zedi to bleed to death is also an option." The statement was punctuated by a single shot directed at the Earth Aspect, and a moment later the Abyssal was moving to take another ambush position in whatever dark spot she can find.

Two action flurry whenever my next tick comes up (last action was Speed 5). First action is one attack on the Earth Aspect enhanced by Bloodthirsty Killing Style, second is reestablishing surprise.

The attack on Zedi does 7L piercing base damage. He takes -2 DV because the attacker is invisible, and Bloodthirsty Killing Style adds a die of raw damage for every point of wound penalty he is presently suffering from.

Reestablishing surprise is a (Dexterity+Stealth) roll as a miscellaneous action. Everyone present gets a reflexive (Perception+Awareness+2) roll to keep track of Valentine's movements. She get two bonus successes due to invisibility, while they take a -1 penalty due to her anima power. Any character who fails to match or exceed Valentine's successes on her roll cannot attack her and will be taken by surprise if attacked by her. They can, however, take a miscellaneous action to roll (Perception+Awareness) to try and finding her. If any character manages to keep track of Valentine, they can call out her location to the others, which lowers the difficulty of finding her by 2.

Attack vs Earth: [roll0]
Reestablish Surprise: [roll1]
Stealth speciality "In Darkness" if applicable: [roll2]

Stunt doubled for second roll if speciality applies: [roll3]

Action is Speed 5

[horus42]

The men take up arms and charge, but before they make it to melee distance, Reinhardt's troops make it up the stairs and open fire of them. Stun rounds fly through the air, and soon enough, the outgunned natives are all unconscious, save for the three Dragon-Blooded, one of whom was leaking said Blood all over the floor.

He struggled to stand, supported by his fierce, redheaded wife, whose face was twisted in a snarl of hatred in Valentine's general direction. Ixash's sword bust into flame, but she stayed back, supporting her husband.

The lithe, blonde woman, however, stayed well away from the other two. She looked at Valentine with desperation in her eyes. "Please... don't hurt me... I never wanted to be part of this..."

[Volthawk]

Octavius walks over to the blonde woman, through the unconscious minions, still not having made a single hostile movement, and puts a hand on her shoulder. "Just let us do what we need to do, and you'll be fine. We're not here to kill you."

[horus42]

She breathes a sigh of relief and moves closer to Octavius. "Thank you... Please... whatever strange gods you are... Accept my apology. I won't stop you."

Zedi grunts. "Coward! We're the gods here! I bet these people are just another group of uppity Haute!" He looks his Fire Aspect wife in the eye. "Kill the invisible one, at least."

"With pleasure, my love." She releases him, now that he's able to stand on his own, and charges at the place where Valentine's last shot came from, her blazing sword flashing as she slices.

Well, she successfully made the attack, but the damage roll was poor enough that it didn't actually affect you.

The blade clangs off of Valentine's armor, having no effect at all, other than causing the first flicker of fear in Ixash's eyes.

[Volthawk]

Octavius doesn't seem too fussed that the other Terrestrials are still resisting, confident that the others have that well under control, and stays focusing on the other Terrestrial.

"It's alright, ma'am. We're not gods, we're just Exalted like yourself, albiet different types of Exalt. Do you have a name?"

[horus42]

"I... My..." she clears her throat, trying not to stare at the ominous teeth bristling in Octavius' mouth. "My name is Kimsny." She looks down, also desperately trying to ignore the fight going on off to the side.

[Volthawk]

"Hm, I see." Octavius gives a small bow. "I am Dr. Octavius Rigel, Chosen of Metagaos. What were you doing here? I mean, since you refer to us and yourselves as gods, that implies limited understanding of the metaphysics of existence, which would limit the amount of tampering you could do with the manse, particularly on the Celestial Mountain side."

[Empyreal]

Hands clasped behind the small of his back, Reinhardt makes his way through the chamber the others are situated in. His men have spread out and laid down impressive fire, non-lethally incapacitating the group of mortals and leaving only the Exalted. His white eyes cross over each of them in turn, taking note of their powers and their self-image, watching as the one detaches from the group immediately and attaches herself to Octavius. She's a cowardly traitor, a manipulative loyalist, or someone who was forced to help the other two; he does not have the information necessary to yet decide.

His attention cuts across the chamber to Ixash, then to her husband, watching as the latter bleeds and the former strikes at impenetrable air. The Sovereign smiles, and so slowly, lifts a hand.

"This fight end'th now,", he declares, voice reverberating through the whole of the manse, dominating all other sound. He casts his burning eyes against the world and the enemies before him. The signal he provided has his men's eyes drawn toward him and his upraised hand, simultaneously training their weapons on the Dragonblooded.

She slashed at Valentine, and that cannot be overlooked. They must establish their superiority inarguably, beyond all contestation.

"Thou fool wench, lame-eyed and daft-bold; thou strike'st Our property and defies Our mercy. Valentiner, Tristania: their leader dies. Cuff the rest."

His hand falls.

[Mechanix]

As the shots ring out inside the Manse and the swords burst ablaze, Tristania finally sets foot on the upper floor, the ground trembling slightly under the shock. Her eyes immediately look for opponents and allies, and she sees the Fire Aspect battling the air - strange. Where is Valentine? Reinhardt is there as usual, all in shining Sovereign glory, but the captain...

Oh. Of course. Stealthy invisible pirate. The other was trying to kill her! This would not do. Tris furiously stomped the ground, pointing at the fire-sword-wielding woman. "You! You are outnumbered, outgunned, outpowered! You've heard the shiny guy: now's your chance to be spared! Stop right there, or face my wrath!" This might seem like another dramatic statement that delayed her action, but the canny Carouser was hoping to distract the Dragon-Blood from her pirate friend, who didn't seem quite as good as taking hits as Tris herself. Once she had the attention of the Dragon-Blood, she would throw her through a wall or something of the kind. While she fought the Fire-Aspect on her own, Valentine would be free to finish off the jerk bleeding out in a corner.

Just like in the old days, with the neomah assassins. She had such fond memories of these days.

Horus: I'm gonna wait for your greenlight before posting an attack, not knowing the order of the action.

[horus42]

Kimsny pauses and frowns. "Exalted... The Haute use that term... But those of us in the valleys never quite understood it. I personally don't really understand how the Temple works. It's instinctive... I just.. know what to do. As we've been making the repairs I've been gaining more actual understanding, though." She smiles at the mention of the Mountain. "I've made a bit of headway into it, actually. Some part of me... that feels like someone else... remembers what the Grand Celestial Mountain is."

In the meantime, the Prinz' men go about rounding up the unconscious warriors of the floor, while Zedi bleeds out still more, and his knees buckle. He seems very close to losing consciousness.

Ixash, meanwhile, blindly swings her fiery sword in frustration and defiance, screaming, "You cannot kill ME! I am a GODDESS!"

Oh, your post was made while I was typing this, Mechanix. Feel free to attack.

[Ronnoc]

Wincing at the blow dealt to Kester and the other mortals Jorrad hurries down the hallway towards the hearthroom and the dragonblooded. Traversing the corridor took care, the field of shrapnel animated by his power was inherently indiscriminate and butchering Will's men just to get in range was unacceptable. Thankfully the laws of motion governing orbits, the pull of a central force, the requisite angular acceleration and the pseudo-scalar of centrifugal "force" were quite literally second nature to the chosen of She Who Lives in Her Name. As Jorrad passed the Prinz's men the furious storm of debris shifted imperceptibly, angling to miss the mortals.

Jorrad steps through the doorway with a crash of tortured stone as the already weakened structure is subjugated to the force of Jorrad's telekinesis and closes with the leader of the dragonblooded, "Zedi, I just finished picking one of your men's brains about you." A bolt of searing blue lightning strikes at the Earth aspect and punctuating the Defiler's words as Jorrad siezes the rooms essence flows and uses Kimsney's presence to resonate with his Essence.

"I can't say I'm impressed." A gout of lurid red flame bursts into existence about Zedi as green radiance pours out of Jorrad.

"And I can certainly say you won't be missed." As he stops three yards from the doomed man Jorrad reaches out with his will and sets the earthly nature of the manse's energy just out of harmony with Zedi's own anima the destructive resonance striking the Dragonblooded.

I'm making a flurry of three telekinetic attacks against Zedi and moving to place him within my Orbital Impact Storm which is a Damage 4L/action Trauma 2 hazard. I'm supplementing the attacks with my Excellency and Principle Invoking Onslaught.

Attack 1 Willpower+Occult
[roll0]

Attack 2 Willpower+Occult-1(Flurry)+1 Excellency
[roll1]

and attack three Willpower+Occult-2(Flurry)+2 Excellency
[roll2]

stunt [roll3]

I'm paying for this with 6 motes of peripheral essence which brings me 14 motes of peripheral spent.

[Mechanix]

Well, there went distraction and diplomacy. Tristania tightened her fists, and scratched the ground like a bull preparing to charge, studying her opponent's every move, waiting for the perfect spot. As Ixash extended her arm for another fiery blow, she charged suddenly with the speed and strength of a small truck; calculating her angle, she punched the Fire Aspect with a strength suched that the air seemed to distort around her fist - then brutally exploded in a shockwave that sent the Terrestrial crashing into a nearby column.

Single attack, 6m go to the Isidoros Excellency, 3m to enhance it with Foe-Hurling Gore Strike. If the attack connects, Ixash will be knocked back [Raw Damage x 3] yards away; if she hits something before finishing that distance, the remaining distance is rolled as piercing Bashing damage.
Of course, anything that she hits suffers the same damage, which means she could very well go through a few columns or walls. She only suffers damage for the first impact, though.
[roll0]
Stunt:
[roll1]
The base damage of my attack is still 12L.

[horus42]

Ronnoc, go ahead and take two dice on that stunt.

Jorrad tears into the wounded Earth Aspect with blasts of undiluted Essence. When the smoke clears, so to speak, Zedi's corpse lies on the floor, broken and charred to the point of being nearly unrecognizable. Ixash lets out a wail of despair, but Kimsny merely shudders and sighs at the brutality of it.

And the next attack goes to Tristania. Zedi is dead, so the only real combatant left is Ixash. Her Dodge DV is 6, her Parry is 8, her total soak, with armor included is 8B/5L and she gets 10 dice on her attack rolls, though she also has Dragon-Graced Weapon active right now.

EDIT:
And Mechanix posts while I'm typing again! :smalltongue:

Ixash's bronze armor crumples upon her chest as Tristania's fist collides with it. The shockwave knocks her back into... and through the column, until she collides with the back wall, which finally stops her. She falls again to the floor, moaning in pain, but alive, for now.

Next action goes to Valentine.

[Volthawk]

"Ah yes, your Exaltation would give you some competence regardless, and make it easier for you to learn the proper skills." Octavius frowns. "Still, that part about a past life is something more common with a Celestial, not a Terrestrial like yourself. Terrestrials remembering a past life is a rare thing. That is, if you are a Terrestrial...but I digress." Octavius gestures at Jorrad, who had just destroyed the enemy leader. "He's the expert on the Mountain, though, so he could probably explain the nature of it better than I could. My specialism is more in the biological and medical fields."

[Mechanix]

"That will teach you to be a petty tyrant ordering men to their death," Tristania spit at the crumpled frame of the Fire Aspect. "Don't try to get back up. I'll only hurt yourself." She glanced at the scorched figure of what had once been an Earth Aspect, then at Reinhardt. "Are we done here?"

[Empyreal]

The Sovereign once more folds his hands behind his back, watching the rapid combat with a vigilant eye. He would have preferred to spare all of the Dragonblooded, but the leader's utter destruction served to strike terror into the hearts of the group, and taking out a brutal and cruel man lets his fellow Infernals feel good.

There are two Exalted survivors, so that is worth something. Reinhardt motions one of his medics over, directing them toward the moaning Fire Aspect. "Stabilize and restrain her; to her We will see upon completion of Our tasks." The medic, a mousy young woman with silver eyes, nods and moves, pulling out her medical omni-tool, sedatives, and restraining cuffs, and gets to work.. with two of the soldiers keeping guard in case the Fire Aspect moves, there to pin her until the drugs and cuffs work.

He then turns to Tristania, head tilting down to watch her. "No. We need stabilize and restrain the survivors, then deliver Our group to the heart of this manse, sanctified and safeguarded, that Our mission be triumph."

His attention falls upon the Air Aspect, who he walks toward with collected nonchalance.

"Thy name."

[horus42]

Kimsny thanks Octavius for his kindness, then turns and watches as Tristania smashes the Fire Aspect through the column.

Reinhardt's men move out, surrounding Ixash as the medic stabilizes her, then cuffing her after she falls unconscious due to the sedatives she was given.

After seeing the display of sheer power and gravitas that Reinhardt gave, the Air Aspect nods meekly and replies, "Kimsny, my Lord."

[Lirio]

That first sword strike is the only hit the Fire Dragon gets, as Valentine easily moves out of the way of the Dragon's raging follow-up attacks. The Abyssal raises her pistol to shoot the Terrestrial, but the instant before she can pull the trigger, Tristania comes in like a freight train out of nowhere and punches her target clear across the room.

Helena glances around, noting the scared Air Dragon talking to the Hunchback, and the charred remains of the Earth Dragon. She holsters her pistol and drops the invisibility shroud. An icy glare directed at Jorrad appears on her face as she fades back back into visibility like condensing steam. "That was unnecessary and undignified hacker, you should have let him fade away," she says with obvious distaste.

The glare then turns to the Blond Brat, eyes hardening with anger, "And you, I'm not your property!" She opens her mouth to say something else but stops suddenly. Anger was weakness, loss of control, Valentine could not allow herself to be consumed by it. She exhales slowly, letting the tension flow out of her, and her body relax. In a moment she is as cold and aloof as always.

Helena looks at the little Carouser, a small smile appearing on her lips, "Very nice hit, I'm impressed."

[Ronnoc]

Standing over the smoldering corpse of Zedi Jorrad shakes his head. This wasn't the first time Jorrad had killed, but before it had always been impersonal and remote, and never when there had been another option. Killing a man should never be done lightly Pavanah had drilled that into the Golden Dragons over and over again and yet Jorrad can't even bring himself to regret the necessity of death. The torrent of stolen memories, knowledge of the dragonblooded's cruelty still lies to close to the surface of his thoughts.

You can't waste time wallowing in self doubt right now Jorrad, you've still got a job to do. Wrenching himself from his introspection Jorrad turns to face Reinhardt, the cloud of debris surrounding him falling harmlessly to the floor as he does so. "No need to go searching for the hearthroom Will, this wreck is it. Give me a moment and we can all go home."

With a deep breath Jorrad let's the physical world slide out of focus. The sharp relief of flowing essence consuming his attention. Despite the dilapidated physical condition of the hearthroom from the perspective of Essence, of information, it glows like a fine gem. Somewhere within the spiral of information forming the core of the manse lies the information that brought them here, the knowledge of how Malfeas may be reforged as something greater. Shutting away the world; setting aside his concern for his new team and the innocents embroiled in their conflict Jorrad restricts his focus only to a question, infusing it with the nature of the Pyrian flame herself. "HOW MAY MALFEAS BECOME THEION?"

As the mote of Pyrian essence departs him Jorrad's anima flares to colossal brilliance, Shining white stares pouring searing fire into the black and green void that envelops him.

I'm activating Analytical Modeling Intuition supplemented with my Excellency again to pull the knowledge of Theion's schematics directly into my brain. Should be interesting to see what long term consequences that might have :smallamused:

Perception+Investigation+Essence+10(from excellency) [roll0]

stunt if applicable [roll1]

[Empyreal]

As Kimsny meekly addresses him, the Sovereign's eyes burn with terrible force, the weight of his attention on the girl fully as he sees her -- not just her, but the tableau of her might and legend that is seared into the world, Essence and light hidden to all sight save his that plays across her and reveals to him the nature of her character. He lifts a hand to her face, tilting her chin up.

"Kimsny, fair of face and strong of mind; Kimsny, agile and clever; Kimsny, genius of her tribe, pressured into doing what she's told. You We will spare in Our mercy; the blood of the Dragons flows strong in you, and your cleverness is a thing of beauty."

His thumb brushes across her lips; she is meek, and so he comes on strong. His hand falls. She is proud of her intelligence, and clearly eager to learn. He steps back, then, and extends that hand, palm up entreatingly, waiting for her to take it.

"Throw back thy head and gaze you at the stars; this world is a small one amidst many, more even than We can count. A universe of wrath and miracle, sickness and wealth; where fools run rampant as heads of state, and men think themselves kings. It is a universe of wrongness. And We aim to make it right."

A brief pause, and then..

"We desire thee. Thou canst be more than what thy thinks; Our shadow will stretch across all of man and beast and god. Stand with Us amidst the stars."

[horus42]

Ooh, I like it. Take two dice for the description.

As Jorrad sifts through the information held within the Essence terminals of the dilapidated Manse, the answer to his question rises to the surface. The Schematics. Though incomplete, are exactly what the team came here for. The knowledge necessary to craft a Stellar Intelligence floods his brain, finding any niche, any spot within his mind to dwell. When he disconnects himself from the Manse's neural network, the knowledge he seeks is held safely within his mind.

Kimsny trembles slightly at how well Reinhardt seems to know her, from only a glance. But when given a chance to leave she accepts without question. "Yes, I'll come! Take me away from this awful place! I hated Zedi... I hated the things he made me do..." She trails off, tears of joy welling up in her eyes. "I want to see the stars..."

[Volthawk]

Octavius grins once again at this. "Oh, the things you'll see...I get the feeling you'll be a quick learner. At least, if Xend is a good indicator of the potential Terrestrials have..."

[horus42]

She turns and faces Octavius again, looking curious. "You know another of my kind? Is he... like them?" She points at Ixash and Zedi's corpse. "Or more like me?"

[Volthawk]

Octavius shrugs. "He's an Earth aspect, like your man there, but that's where the similarities stop, I think, both physically and mentally. Physically, since he's only half-human, and mentally since, well, he's not a complete *******. That and his training is in piloting and driving, mostly, which I doubt he had any experience with."

[Mechanix]

Tristania smiled at the compliment from Captain Valentine; it was good to be recognized to your due value by someone who know what it was all about. She let the mortals handle her defeated foe, approaching the small group that had formed around the Air Aspect. "Do we have a new friend?" Hi! I'm Tristania. Call me Tris. I don't know how much you know about yourself given how kinda backward this place is - no offense - but a few things: you're not a god, you're an Exalted. You have extraordinary powers and that makes you awesome. We also have extraordinary powers though, and they are bigger, as Fire Gal over there can attest. But we're nice! Come with us; the whole universe is waiting." Then, she looked at Ronnoc. "You done? That was quick! Okay, are we done with this place? Is there a hearthstone somewhere in the Manse that we could take with us? Those things are always useful."

[Ronnoc]

The effulgence of his anima fades as the last traces of the schematics seep into Jorrads mind. The white fire of the spiraling stars is spent leaving only a sheath of green flame surrounding the exalt.

The knowledge gleaned from the manse is overwhelmingly vast, the details and scope of the underpinnings of a Stellar intelligence are quite literally orders of magnitude beyond anything Jorrad has ever experienced. Despite the dizzying complexeity Jorrad can't shake a feeling of, wholeness. This is what the Exalted were created for, to serve as mediums between mortality and the nature of the stars themselves. This is the place in the Hierarchy that he was made to serve.

"I have the designs." Jorrad says in a weary voice, "We can go now, we've done enough to these people"

Turning to the air aspect Jorrad bends to one knee and says, "I'm sorry about Zedi m'lady Kimsny but knowing what he did to us, I mean to you." A look of confusion passes over Jorrad's face as he attempts to separate Kester's memories from his own. "I know he was a cruel man, and deserved what happened to him but he was still your leader. If there's anything I can do to help you and yours please let me know." There is a hint of pleading on Jorrad's voice on the last sentence as he looks into Kimsny's eyes seeking forgiveness.

[horus42]

Now that everyone was crowding around Kimsny, she says, "Thank you... Thank you all. You've freed me from that awful man who dared call himself my husband. You've liberated our tribe. And please, don't hurt them... They only attacked out of fear of what Zedi and Ixash would do if they disobeyed... Their families are held hostage..."

She greets Tristania with a bit less enthusiasm that the others, save for perhaps Valentine. It would seem that she's rather afraid of her. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're referring to." It seems that the term Hearthstone itself escaped her grasp, due to being from such a backwater planet.

[Empyreal]

Reinhardt gives the Air Aspect a lingering look and then glances toward Valentine, amused at her outburst. He does not respond to her, knowing that her rage is impotent and misguided; this is not the time nor the place to have an argument. Reaching out, he takes Kimsny by the wrist, pulling her over.

"Thy tribe is free of their brutal hand; We are the guardians of your people now. The fellows laid before thee will awaken soon, unharmed save a spot of confusion and ache of the head. It will pass. Tell Us all you know of this Ixash, and then guide Us to thy tribal home. Does she have more men loyal to them?"

He gestures for Kimsny to move along, and then addresses the room as a whole, lit by the halo of authority and a crown of fire, eyes burning with power still. "Study this temple-manse, and see if it does bear a noteworthy bauble; if not, you may take what you like from it, fill thy pauper's pouch with gold and silver if any linger. Valentiner, Tristania, and We shall haste to the people-of-the-valley, to learn and instruct. They should know the women who brought them salvation from tyranny."

With everything secured, Reinhardt lightly steps back through the ruined temple, paying no heed to its stone and glass, to the thrums of energy within; the scientists will study it, his troops will secure it, and it can be renovated later. If it has a hearthstone of note, he'll learn so when they do. For now, better to check on these tribals. Are there any other noteworthy recruits?

[Exthalion]

With the battle over Manah floated gently up the stairs, buoyed on a cushion of telekinetic force. He arrived at the tail end of Reinhardt's speech and stopped.

"I would rather you did not grant such liberty to your servants. What treasures remain will be of great aid to me if I should put this place to rights, a task I mean to try if there is time enough. The splendor of the Mother of All will make of this thing not overly extended.

Moreover, I am more gifted for the making and renewing of things; the sons and daughters of man are given to you to rule and shape according to your desire. If I am to be counted worth the price of my passage, it seems I shall have to perform and quickly."

[Ronnoc]

"In that case I'll head to the village as well. There's nothing left for me to do here."

Besides, Jorrad thought, it'll be nice to help people again. Well over half the jobs that the Golden Dragons ran had one simple objective, getting food for the prisoners. Since the arrival of She Who Lives in Her Name such mundane objectives had been left firmly in the wayside. Perhaps focusing on something simple for a bit would help him settle his thoughts and begin to comprehend the knowledge he had gleaned.

[Empyreal]

Reinhardt glances toward Manah as he speaks, briefly pondering what manner of wonder he might need the unscavenged base valuables of the manse for. He is not a craftsman, though he dreams of creation; it is people and empires and thrones he seeks to build, not daiklaves or spaceships or sun generators.

"Very well. Manah is given first priority in the salvage."

The craftsman can take what he needs, and the troops can -- if there's even anything worthwhile -- take whatever extra. Reinhardt considers the issue settled and departs.

[horus42]

Kimsny smiles and nods. "Thank you. I'll show you the way to the village. There are still people there who are loyal to Ixash and Zedi, but once they see that you've defeated them, they should surrender."

[Lirio]

Valentine walked over to where the medic was stabilizing Ixash. "I want to talk to her when she wakes, inform me when she starts to come around."

She then walked toward the stairs, but as she passed by Jorrad she stopped and regarded him coldly. "Hacker, there are two kinds of killings, she began. "There's business killing, and there's personal killing. Now professionals like me prefer to keep it all strictly business, but sooner or later something personal comes up. I'd be lying if I said that the blood on my hands is all business."

Helena pointed at Zedi's charred corpse, "That however was neither business nor personal. It was sloppy, unnecessary, and undignified. Worst of all it was unprofessional. He was already dying, and he had done you no wrong, so all you did was make a pretty light display and leave a charred corpse. For what? Outraged feelings over how he treated his subordinates?"

There was a brief pause where the Abyssal's cold eyes bored unto the Defiler. "You know who has a lot of feelings? People who murder their spouses with sports trophies. Professionals have standards, and I would appreciate some professionalism when we're on the job. Do keep that in mind next time we have to execute somebody. Especially keep it in mind if we ever need someone alive who fails to live up to your ethical and moral standards."

She continued on her way without awaiting or acknowledging any reply from Jorrad.

[Ronnoc]

A cold voice, crystalline with fury echos in Lirio's comm as she stalks out of the manse.

"Unprofessional? No, unprofessional would be leaving an enemy bleeding but still capable of acting, unprofessional is giving your enemy a chance, because if you have to take a life then it should be done quickly and without endangering anyone else.

And did I really just hear Käpitan Helena Valentine, of all people, object to the destruction of a brutal Exalt who uses his powers to enslave his wives and the mortals in his care. The people who should trust him the most. And they say that the tomb stars don't encourage irony."

[Lirio]

A sharp reply came back over the comms, "He was already incapacitated and dying. I will not abide wasteful use of force, and I will certainly not abide intrusions on my personal business. Valentine, out."

Helena shut off the commlink to Jorrad and stepped outside the Manse, looking around to see if anyone or anything was drawn out by the commotion. Nothing had been reported by the dropship's crew, but it paid to be careful.

Perception+Awareness roll: [roll0]

Stunt: [roll1]

[Exthalion]

Within the manse, fragments on the floor begin to rise. Chips of paint like fallen leaves pressed themselves against the walls and liquid color flowed from them to restore frescoes and murals to pristine condition. The pieces of the broken column returned to their original position and rejoined with a flash of light at the seams.

And there was Manah, the eye of the storm. Waves of colorless essence burst from him to the cadence of his heart, refracting light into a splendor of colors. It flowed out of the room and down the stars in little waterfalls, spreading up walls and columns with equal ease. As his demiurgic power flowed through the manse, the essence circuits lit up and the placed was suddenly filled with a sacred presence, the nascent connection to the Holy Mountain.

Yet there was something slightly off. The restored pillar now hung suspended between ceiling and floor by unseen force. The frescoes depicted shining men under a strange sky, a gilt glyph in Old Realm standing in for the primary.

"Tell me Jorrad, have you heard of the Stachelschweine Dilemma? Even in the interaction you just experienced there was a level of intimacy I envy. All of my relationships have been primarily professional in nature, so it was easy to keep people at a distance. Even so, I wonder if this Cytherean essence will grow to fill that portion of me or instead form a shell between me and others."

[Mechanix]

The sudden outburst of conflict within their small group confused Tristania. Weren't they all working together towards the same goal? And what did it matter that Jorrad had killed the Dragon-Blooded brutally? He was a jerk, and going to die anyway. She didn't understand. However, Reinhardt's orders separated the group, and she couldn't talk with both Helena and Jorrad at once! She reluctantly left Jorrad behind, giving him a little smile and a wave of her hand to make him understand that she was right there with him, then followed the Sovereign - not that she was one to care much about orders, but staying in the Manse sounded dreadfully more boring than going to meet new alien people.

Hopping along until she'd caught up with them, Tristania tugged on Helena's sleeve. "Hey! Hey. I don't understand what you told Jorrad. How can you kill someone without feeling strongly about it? Feeling are what guides you. Motivates you. I can't fight well if I don't feel strong emotions, and I can't kill without rage or anger motivating me. Isn't that the same for everyone?"

[horus42]

Those who exit the Manse see nothing special outside, no crowds of onlookers or anything. It would appear that either no one heard the fight and came running, or those who did hear were too afraid to do anything.

Kimsny takes those with her to a village about a kilometer away, and says, "Here we are. My home. Once the people know you freed them, they will most likely throw down their arms and release the hostages. Some might fight, however... There were some true believers." She looks over at Reinhardt nervously, but says nothing more.

In the Manse, those who stay behind don't find anything of real worth. A few baubles and trinkets that would fetch a fair price, but no Hearthstones or Artifacts. Even Ixash's sword and armor were simple bronze.

[Ronnoc]

A ghost of a smile passes over Jorrad's face as Tristania follows Valentine out of the manse. "Well Manah I'm afraid I don't have much experience with porcupine's but it seems to me that your choice of analogy highlights your problem. If you don't mind me jumping a pulpit a bit I'd like to quote an old friend at you. When I first joined my old gang our leader Pavanah told me something, "We aren't thieves, or murderer's or slaves. We aren't convicts or criminals or even heroes. We're choices, that's all we are, a collection of choices. The choices we made inform our present but they don't define our future. You can always choose again."

You just chose to break your shell a bit and talk to me. You changed even if just by a hair. I just choose to kill a man and now I'm going to choose again and see how I can help these people. So, I'm going to head down to the village now but I'd like to continue this conversation after we break atmo."

Plastering his customary smile across his face Jorrad turns and leaves the hearthroom hurrying off after Reinhardt, Valentine and Tristania.

[Lirio]

The Abyssal laughs at the little Carouser's question as they walk toward Kimsny's village, "I suppose that you're still a child, genetically engineered warrior or not. Most people in the universe aren't driven to fight and kill by their feelings, they kill because they are forced to by circumstance, or because they are driven by duty. What they feel when they kill is usually fear, regret, or indifference, because the majority of violent death is impersonal by nature. This is why the average soldier is most concerned with surviving and keeping their comrades alive; all other concerns become distant and remote."

She paused for a few moments. "That's not the reason for my quarrel with Jorrad though. There is no problem with having your feelings with you when you fight, nor is there any problem with allowing them to guide and inform your decisions. The problem comes when you let them rule you and cloud your judgement, for that leads to dangerous and counter-productive actions. Consider the tactical situation in that room: the Earth Dragon was barely concious and already dying, the Fire Dragon was only slightly wounded and still attacking me. Jorrad decided to attack the lesser threat, and didn't even finish him off cleanly. Instead he decided to drain his essence in demonstrating immense outrage at Zedi's existence. It accomplished nothing; it was just a pretty light show to send-off a man who was already dead. What if there had been other enemies? What if we needed all that power and energy for another task?"

The Kapitän stopped suddenly, and turned to look into the eyes of Tristania, "You never assume the fighting's over, you never get so focused on one target you ignore all the others, and you never waste your ammunition showing off. I'm a soldier, a pirate, a mercenary. Violence is my profession, life and death are another day at the job. I've kept myself and my crew alive through a decade and a half of fighting, because I've kept in mind that what's most important at the end of the day is being alive to see it. When you get caught up in your feelings you lose sight of that, you lose sight of everything. That's why professionals keep control of themselves and focus on the job. Do you understand?"

[Mechanix]

Tristania looked puzzled to say the least, and pondered Helena's word for a few moments rather than answering immediately.
"I... Don't know. It's... A lot of thinky stuff, that. I don't really understand what this means. What's professionalism? I mean, of course I know what it means, but... When other people say it it sounds a lot like an excuse, you know? Like staying away from what they do is a way to act like they are not doing it. Like killing people because it's your job is better than killing them because you don't like their face.

But it's not, is it? I mean... I have the power of Isidoros. It's there, in me, and I can draw on it anytime I wish to hit harder, be stronger, move faster. But it flows with my emotions and thoughts. I can't use it when I'm ordered to do things I don't really want, I can't use it to be subtle and keep my self-control. It has to pour out with all my emotions, my anger, my sorrow, my pain. Like the boar rushing blindly at his opponent... Otherwise it just doesn't work.

So I... I don't know. If you had told me not to fight the Fire Aspect and to go finish Zedi instead, I couldn't have done that. My power would have escaped me, it wouldn't have worked. I would have probably kept fighting the Fire Aspect.

I can never lie to myself, is what I mean. I can never hold back. I can never tell myself I'm following orders or doing my job. Everything I do, I have to want, to will, to believe. It has to flow from me like a wave. It has to be true.

I'm sorry, I kinda veered off track. Hard to stay on topic with stuff like that. I'm not used to explaining everything like that." She shrugged, as if dismissing the entire subject as irrelevant. They had arrived, anyway.

[Lirio]

Valentine sighed like someone who had taken a wrong turn on a road they didn't care to travel to begin with.

"It's a complicated subject, and neither of us had the time or inclination to go into it more deeply, so I'll give you the short version. In a fight, I know that you're going to throw everything you have against the most formidable foe on the field. Your style is not my style, but I can appreciate the simple purity of it, even admire it on some level. If I can trust you to be you, then I can trust you in battle. How you follow your emotions makes you someone I'm happy to have fighting at my side.

The hacker's emotions, on the other hand, make him unreliable. Zedi was a petty tyrant the likes of which you can find by the dozen on any planet you care to name. If Jorrad is going to lose his temper and waste his energies over something so trivial, then he's not going to be rational should we ever encounter something far more offensive to his moral sensibilities. That makes him a liability unless he can learn to be professional, put his feelings aside, and focus on the job."

[Ronnoc]

Jorrad rounded the final bend leading up to the village. Glancing over toward Tristania and Valentine he considers talking to the Captain before shaking his head and moving up to join Kimsny. I'll straiten things out once we're back on the ship. This isn't the time or the place for a discussion of tactics or ethics.

As he approached Kimsny he said, "My lady, um I mean Kimsney " I have got to straighten Kester's memories out. "We're going to have to leave soon, if you want to come with us this will be your last chance to help your people, to choose a path for them. What would you have us do?"

[horus42]

Kimsny sighs as the group reaches the village. "Perhaps I shouldn't go after all. My people might need me now more than ever. Especially with Zedi dead and Ixash captured. They need a leader, and someone who will actually care about them, rather than rule as a tyrant." From the way she says it, it seems that the time spent walking to the village, while she's had time to think about it more clearly, has given her enough time to change her mind. Though she's clearly leaving something unsaid about why she no longer wants to go.

The village itself is made of stone and wood buildings, gatherings of houses and small shops. In the very center of the town is a pit, surrounded by armed and armored men. Presumably, the hostages are in there.

[Empyreal]

Between her talk of true believers, tyranny, and a desire to stay, the idea that Kimsny was genuinely loyal to Zedi flickers through the Sovereign's mind once again, taking root more strongly this time than it did before. His dark instincts swell up, his pride and will challenged. This nerdy wallflower wants to be a leader? Her claim to fame is staying out of the spotlight and falling in line with another to have her intelligence exploited; this is not leader material, even with a backwards tribal people.

He smiles, draws to a still, and raises his hand.

"The chains of command are a heavy burden. On thy shoulders would mans fate rest, on thy body would mans eyes rest. Thy tongue would birth'st triumph or defeat, and thy mind would face'st constant challenge. Who art thee to think a throne so easily taken? The blood of dragons is in thee, but the kingsblood is mine, and thou art no king."

His burning eyes roam the girl once more, his heart aflame with self-righteous anger, grasping at her legend for signs of leadership and finding none.

"Know thy place."

[horus42]

Something about Reinhardt's words seem to embolden her. She shakes slightly with anger, and bursts out with, "You sound EXACTLY like him, you arrogant, self-righteous bastard!" She pants heavily for a moment, seething, before continuing. "I've seen the way you treat your people, the way you treat poor Valentine. She isn't your property! She doesn't belong to you any more than I belonged to Zedi! You claim to have the wisdom of a King, but in reality, you're a damned fool with delusions of grandeur."

Kimsny starts to walk off towards the village. "I don't want you to EVER come near my people."

[Volthawk]

Octavius' reaction to this is to throw back his head and laugh. It seemed he found this whole thing amusing. "Nicely done, boss. Your skill with women is the envy of us all."

[Lirio]

The thoughtless outburst in the Manse Hearthroom was rapidly proving to be a very costly mistake for Kapitän Valentine. It was her own damn fault for not keeping her temper in check. Usually she did, even when the Brat was openly possessive, but the way he got all self-righteous and protective over a damn scratch to her armour had really set her off. It was bad enough to be impressed into service via blackmail, having her combat ability implicitly questioned was rubbing salt in the wound. So her pride had outstripped her caution.

And now it seemed like every bleeding heart in the general vicinity had decided to protest the terms of her employment, which was distinctly not helpful in circumstances. If Valentine didn't engage in some damage control, her crew might suffer the consequences, and that could not be permitted. What she wouldn't give for someone with the tact and decency to bring their concerns to her privately. Clearly the art of conspiracy was lost on these fools. Where's a Chosen of the Ebon Dragon when you need one?

With a sigh of complete exasperation, the Abyssal drew her pistol and stepped in front of Kimsny. Her eyes was as cold as the void when she stared into the Air Dragon's, "I'm afraid that you may not leave His Highness' presence until you have been dismissed."

[Empyreal]

Reinhardt looks toward the departing form of Kimsny with thoughtful amusement. She saw how he treats his soldiers -- keeping them healthy, providing them with jobs and purpose suited to their skills, enhancing their skills, and overall maintaining an intensely loyal and satisfied group?

Well, the idea that would make her angry is absurd, so she must be upset about Valentiner. Tough -- it is not the place of a king to explain himself; it is the place of others to follow or be crushed underfoot. He is prepared to simply ignore the Terrestrial and proceed forward like a natural disaster.

But then Valentiner steps forward, blatantly trying to curry favor or curb his rage. The man mentally sighs and deigns to elaborate just this once.

"Her life is in Our hands, now and forever; she and her men are deserters, traitorous dogs that fled from their home and their rightful government to turn to piracy. She abandoned all who depended on her, abandoned those who gave her pay and gave her the right to have a home to return to -- she left them to die. By all the laws of gods and men, as writ in the mandates of Heigilesmark, those scoundrels are to die, to face the gallows and be hung beneath the azure sky."

His voice is intensely furious, but measured, not raised -- he is wrathful when recalling these memories but not losing control.

"We found her and her men. Preying on the weak and the helpless, filling their pockets with unlawful plunder. They did feast on the guts of the rich and defenseless like carrion, bathed in the exultant musk of blood-money. That We spared their life at all is in defiance of the laws We uphold, and done as a sign of mercy and generosity. The blood of Our family, Our friends, Our people is on their craven hands. In return, We have given them stable employment, lawful profit, and a safer lifestyle by far than praying the next beast they bit would not bite back."

Fire bursts from the Sovereign's mouth, a gush of heatless white flame that flows around him to spark at the outline of an ephemeral crown, tinged green as it rises above his halo.

"Thou can'st only walk away from Us because We determined thy life worthwhile. We spared thee, as We spared the other woman and the mortals besides. One life was lost, a life mired in brutal petty thought. Countless more were saved and blessed by this Tyrant's will. All the worlds need a firm hand to control and guide them -- Man is a beast of his own volition, prone to cruelty and crime. Let then a Shining Tyrant rise above all to impose safe prosperity on chaotic whim."

Prinz Reinhardt Wilhelm von Heigilesmark is rarely so open with his thoughts and feelings, his hand clenched into a fist, his gaze unblinking as it watches, but he is inflamed. What do these people think rule is? He shakes his head and continues walking forward toward the village.

"Come. There are loyalists who yet linger."

[horus42]

"No! Stop!" She runs in front of Reinhardt, blocking his path. "You are not welcome here. The others may come. Octavius, Valentine, Jorrad and even Tristania. But not you. You're exactly the kind of man I am trying to protect my people from. You may not think it, but you are exactly like Zedi. Your birth makes you no more important than anyone else. You have no right to be here. Might does not make right, you arrogant idiot."

She stands her ground, still fuming. All her pent up anger at Zedi overflowing into her current anger at the Sovereign. "You sound just like him. "People need a firm hand to govern them, might as well be me, right?" She does a startlingly good yet mocking impression of Reinhardt's voice. "What makes you feel this compulsive need to rule over others? It's obviously some deep-rooted psychological issue. I'd say it's nearly pathological. Some kind of complex to compensate for other shortcomings?" She scoffs. "You're pathetic. And I am not afraid of you."

[Empyreal]

Reinhardt does not slow, continuing to walk, and pays the girl no mind. She had her chance and ruined it. If she physically touches him, she will be shot.

[Mechanix]

Tristania looked at the scene, distraught. Kimsny seemed like a nice girl! She was already picturing her in her team, working on the ship, showing her the wonders of space-faring technology. It would have been so much fun! There must be some way of salvaging the situation. She sighed wearily, and put herself between Valentine and the Air Aspect - a purely symbolic gesture, as she was too short to prevent Helena from just shooting the girl in the head.

"Okay, everyone please stop. Except Reinhardt, I guess, it's not like he'll listen to me. But seriously, please don't shoot each other, okay?"

There had been better starts to diplomatic interventions, that was for sure.

"Listen, Kim. We're... You've seen us in action. We could raze that whole village in fifteen minutes without so much as a scratch. That's not... That's not what anybody wants, especially me.
But this is Reinhardt. He doesn't take kindly to people saying 'no' to him. But... It's not like he's going to stay here and set himself up as a tyrant or something, all right? He doesn't really care about this place.
So how about this: you let us walk around. You let him talk to people. I promise I'll see to it that he doesn't hurt anybody, and that he leaves peacefully. All right? No cult or kingship or whatever. I promise.
I don't want anybody to get hurt. Neither do you, am I right? I'm sure this can end peacefully.
...please."

[Lirio]

Valentine narrows her eyes as she continues to stare at Kimsny, completely ignoring Tristania, "Your understanding of psychology, political beliefs, and moral self-righteousness are far more sophisticated than I would expect from primitive savages. You've also admitted familiarity with the Haute. You were raised and educated by them, weren't you?"

[horus42]

Kimsny looks over at Tristania, gasping slightly. "I... I..." she pauses. "Very well. If an harm comes to my people..." She trails off. "I don't know what I'd do. It's true, nothing we did could stop you. So please, I'm sorry at my outburst. I had just assumed too much." She walks back over to Reinhardt, keeping pace with him.

"I... ask, that you do not stay. Leave my people to choose their own leader. If I have offended you, I ask that you forgive me."

She then looks over at Valentine, surprised. "Yes, I was. I was a student at a university when came down here to study the Ter. It was then that I was taken prisoner by Zedi. But in time, I've come to think of this tribe as my own."

[Empyreal]

"Speak again and thy tongue is Ours."

Reinhardt moves ahead of the group.

[horus42]

Kimsny wisely keeps her mouth shut until the group arrives at the town proper. As you approach, a young girl runs out to the group, her features looking very much like Kimsny, but with Zedi's dark hair and eyes.

"Mommy!" She flings herself into Kimsny's arms, who holds her close and shushes her.

When she does finally speak again, it's not to Reinhardt. "Those men around the pit are the true believers."

[Mechanix]

Tristania follows in Kimsny's steps, and at Reinhardt's last sentence, she quickens the pace, getting besides him and looking quite angry, in a childish way - as if someone had just taken her cookie.

"Hey, if this is going to work, I don't want that kind of speech! You be nice to Kim. She doesn't know you. No threatening her, am I understood? Or else I'm gonna get mad!"

Says the 4 feet tall child.

Ignore the flashback of her throwing a Dragon-Blooded through a stone pillar.

[Volthawk]

Octavius initially looks at Kimsy and her child.

"Hm. A child. Interesting, especially with that appearance.."

He then diverts his attention to the people around the pit. "So, straight with the violence or are you going to try talking it out first?"

[Empyreal]

Tilting his head back, Reinhardt gazes up at the atmosphere, the light and clouds playing across a blue expanse. It would be such a trivial effort to have death come from beyond those clouds and leave this backwater a glass crater.

But no. There may yet be something useful here, and such obvious violence against them would upset little Tristania. There are subtler ways to punish Kimsny for her hypocrisy.

Lazily, Reinhardt waves one of his hands. "None of them have a place on Our ship, and the villagers will turn against them upon their defeat; kill them quickly, lest their suffering be higher than it needs be. Kimsny, run to them, out of breath and harried; inform them their lords need their assistance, there was unexpected difficulty at the manse. Lead them out of this exit, where they will find little Tristania lurking. Hers is the most dangerous fighting style, and it is best kept away from village and villager. Valentiner and Octavius will move in and quickly dispatch the small detachment that will be left to guard the pit."

The lack of security inherent to keeping prisoners in a pit is something Reinhardt doesn't bother elaborating on. His opinion of the people around him is rapidly falling, and he sees little point to discussing how there's probably more going on than they're aware of, how Kimsny willingly had a child with the man they just murdered and was very much not likely a prisoner given the ease with which a Terrestrial educated and knowing where to escape to 'modern' civilization could get away, and how the village itself is unlikely to exist a month from now.

For now, he'll just accompany Valentiner. Give the place a look. See if his mystical sight picks up anyone of note. And if not, he'll still memorize the layout of the place, the health of the people, the amount of armed men and women, and other tactical details.

[Ronnoc]

Some days I really wish people wouldn't just conform to their place in the Hierarchy. Also that I'd learn to keep my mouth shut. Bill's heavy handedness coupled with Kim's background and a dash of yours truly sticking his foot in his mouth had just about completely destabilized the situation.

Jorrad fell back from the group as the verbal battle progressed. He'd already offended Valentine to the point that interfering would likely make matters worse on that end and given his possessive streak the same likely applied to Wil too. "Manah, you might want to hurry it up at the Manse." Jorrad whispers into his comm, "We've got a bit of a situation here and Reinhardt looks like he's about to blow a gasket."

Joining the others as Reinhardt gives out his orders Jorrad asks, "There any particular reason to kill the guards? It would seem easier just to throw some stun gas at the pit, free the hostages and let the people sort things out when they wake up."

[Empyreal]

"The ammo can be replenished at lower cost than the canisters and grenades. Most of the energy weapons siphon off the excess power Our ship generators provide. If thou dost wish to be merciful, spare their lives, and pray this backwater bastion of civilization has advanced beyond the traditional tribal punishments of stoning and exile. We would kill them quicker, with less pain, and fewer risks of the villagers being hurt by retaliation. "

Reinhardt once more sets his hands behind his back, simply walking along. How they choose to settle this problem is not his concern -- his generosity has been strained by Kimsny's ungratefulness and the ignorant bleatings of his own allies in her favor. That he's even contributing this much is merely because he said he would earlier and he does not like to go back on his decisions.

[Mechanix]

"Whatever, guys, just - let's get this done, right? This whole scene is bumming me out. I can take out the guards non-lethally, no probs. In fact I can take them all out, no need to waste bullets. It will hurt but hey, that's what they get for being on the wrong side. Also Kim? I took care to spare the fighters I met in the Manse, they seemed too reluctant to fight freely. You should get someone to check up on them."

Tristania squatted for a moment, stretching. She was already growing hungry, and it was distracting her, which mixed with the irritation of the growing tension to make her quite reluctant to strict compliance.

"Actually, screw the plan about dragging them out of the village. Come on, Kim. We're just going inside and offering them to surrender. If they don't I'll just try to avoid breaking the houses. Ready when you are."

She didn't gratify Reinhardt with a look as she rejected his order; she was not even angry at him, but she was not at all the kind of people to be pushed around. She was Sky-Twisted, marked by the favor of the Black Boar. It was not her lot to accept others' designs.

[Empyreal]

Reinhardt snorts. Yes, let Tristania shatter all their limbs, and then watch the tribals waste their own limited resources on providing medical aid to their brutal, violent oppressors who terrorized them and kept them in a ****ing hole instead of just stabbing them or smashing their heads with rocks. Much more pain, much more fuss, higher odds of collateral damage, and a risk they fight back and hurt the villagers later.

"So be it."

He turns, motioning to Valentine and Jorrad, and contacts his ship, transmitting this to all listeners. They will be returning to the shuttle: mission complete.

"Celebrate thy success with what food and drink these people can share, Tristania. Thou deserve what reward thee receive. Be merry."

[Exthalion]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OYt6kaN4fwY&t=0m5s

The survivors who had not accompanied the party going to the village were coming to their senses. They who had been toiling for months on this ruin, to little effect, saw Manah hung from the sky. His hands formed mudras of motion and breath. He had cast off his sun-stained robes, revealing skin made tan in the light of the First Dawn. Like a brazen lotus he sat, unmoved at the heart of motion as fragments, new and old, reached their assigned place.

"In a shell of my own making I may be, but it seems even I cannot resist an audience."

At the instant he finished speaking a sudden choral shout filled the manse like thunder. The mere repairs he had been doing flashed into new configurations. Splendor piled upon splendor, each fragment a masterpiece of crystal, silver, and fire. They sung with voices like the voices of living creatures, each a single pure note to carry forth the chords of making. Where it passed stone passed away and wood was not found. The hearthroom became the heart of a living jewel, as radiant as a crucible of white flame.

Such glory had gone out of the world, not seen since the turning of the age. Here was the glory undimmed which had commanded the stars to awaken and sing the praise of the golden sun. Fel were the days which came after, yet here was a resurrected instant, as though suspended upon the edge of the singularity where time is broken and memory and eternity become one.

There was Manah a bright shadow in the heart of an inferno. Behind him turned a burning wheel and upon it were spun threads of raw essence into a lace of form and substance.

"Behold!" and the voice was not Manah's, but that of a man older and accustom to the paeans of worlds forever in his ears, "the wonders of an ancient glory."

Lets see now,
Int 5 + Craft 7 + Ab Essentia Specialty 3 + First Cytherean Excellency 8 + Past Life 5 + Conviction 4= 32 [+ stunt] dice.
(I believe that is the cap since Demon Ink Tattoos count as dice added by charms)

+ 2 automatic successes from Recursive Singularity Inflorescence

Interval for structures is 2 days/Essence=4 hours with no penalty for lacking the appropriate tools.

Origin Consummating Fiat Ecstasy 10m, 1wp
First Cytherean Excellency 8m
Primordial Essence Synthesizing Wellspring 5m
Channel Conviction 1wp

Total Cost: 23m, 2wp

Base Pool: [roll0]
Stunt from Right to Left: [roll1]

By my count: 16+2 base successes. And perhaps a few new mortal retainers.

[horus42]

Kimsny nods and smiles at Tristania, her daughter now standing at her hip. "Yes, let's go talk to them first. Perhaps once they realize that Zedi and Ixash are gone, they'll realize that there's no reason to keep fighting for them." She takes her daughter's hand and says, "Head home now, Jes. I'll be back soon." She then smiles and says, "And your awful father will never touch you again."

The girl, apparently named Jes, smiles happily and kisses her mother's cheek, before running off.

Meanwhile, in the Manse, those who have regained consciousness look up in awe as Manah floats in midair, the pieces of the ruined Manse coming together, threads of Essence stitching them together. The repairs are made, the sky fading from sight as the ceiling is restructured. In time, the Manse is whole once more.

Go ahead and take two dice on that stunt

Kimsny and Tristania go towards the pit, where Kimsny simply says, "You men will back away from this pit. Now. Zedi is dead, and Ixash will never return. Throw down your arms, and release the hostages immediately."

The men gasp in surprise, some denying it, but others knowing that Kimsny has never lied to them before. In the end, their commander orders them to release the hostages. The women and children of the men from the Manse are brought up out of the pit, and are able to finally return home.

[Mechanix]

"Yeah... When an Exalt shows up, mortals tend to cave in and do what they say. Especially when they like that Exalt as a person. Don't abuse that power! I don't like people who do." Tristania nevertheless smiled at Kim, and offered her her hand to shake. "I'm glad this could be solved peacefully. I think we'll be on our way now - Reinhardt will grow impatient and I don't like picturing what he could do to this place if he got angry. Will you be all right? By the way, your daughter is really cute."

[horus42]

Kimsny smiles and shakes Tristiana's hand. "Thank you, for everything. You and your people have done mine a great service today. We're in your debt." She laughs at the comment about her daughter. "Well she's likely to Exalt as an Earth Aspect. Maybe she can grow up to be a bit like you. Better that than her father..." She shudders a bit at the memory of him, though he can't hurt her any more.

She then goes back to the rest of the group and says her goodbyes. "Thank you all. I appreciate what you've done, and I hope that whatever it was you're trying to do is successful. Goodbye."

[Exthalion]

"Tell me sons of men, born of the earth, have you ever seen such things under heaven? Who among your gods can claim to be my equal in this? Where will you go upon all the world and find splendors equal to my work? What son of kings, or gods loved conquer, could bring forth its equal; even with the toil of nations?

Stand firm, brace yourselves like men, and answer me if you are able. For I have come from the company of the stars and would know the measure of men and gods that I might discern those worthy of my name."

[horus42]

"N-none have displayed such power, my lord..." says one of them, still sitting in awe at what they had just witness Manah do. "You must be as far above our gods as they are above us..."

[Ronnoc]

Jorrad stood at the outskirts of the village watching as Tristania said farewell to Kimsny. He had chosen to help these people, to improve their lot but as he looked out over the village he realized just how little his new found power had changed his capabilities. This little mud-brick village had no computers to hack, no systems to nudge in their favor. His telekinesis, mastery over the elements themselves would do nothing to help the village in the long term. Even Reinhardt's chefs with their protein vats could do this collection of huts more good than he could. Even the chefs....

Reaching out with his will Jorrad levitated a series of boulders into orbit around him, Gazing into them he searched, measuring their Essence finding the bonds that defined their nature as stone and then broke them. With a surge of essence they were redefined according to his will. After all everything you see and touch is only star dust, before the will of the Exalted the myriad forms that dust may take is only a transitory state.

When he was done with them where there had once been six boulders now there were, "Genuine "A" grade foodstuffs, non-perishable. They taste like hell but one of these will feed a family for months. It should buy you the time you need to reorganize your village here Kimsny, maybe move them up to the mountains. Regardless I've got places to go and stars to build."

With a half bow to the Terrestrial Jorrad headed back to the shuttles. Sometimes it's nice to fall into old routines.

There are times when I really love Principle Invoking Onslaught.

[horus42]

Kimsny thanked Jorrad for his parting gift, and then saw the group off, as the returned to the Manse.

For the most part, the people in the Manse couldn't bear to abandon their families, though a few did decide to follow him. In the end, five of them agreed to come along, the five who were most interested in crafting, and who had the least to lose by going away. The men who returned to the village promised them all to care for their small families.

Once you all had finished your business on Terhaute and gone back to the ships, Ixash begins to stir in the infirmary, and the crew tells Valentine that she's awake, as per their orders.

[Lirio]

The realization that Kimsny was drawing parallels between her own situation and Valentine's had caused a sneer of utter contempt to appear on the latter's face. The Abyssal had been willing to tolerate the girl's meekness and weakness, but the implication that Valentine herself shared any of that weakness was loathsome beyond all words. It seemed clear that lack of will and conviction had kept Kimsny tied to her captor, whereas it was the strength of Valentine's will and conviction that kept her tied to her own. To so much as imply that that the two of them were anything alike was a grave and personal insult in Valentine's eyes.

Normally the Kapitän would have confronted the girl and extracted an apology, but under the circumstances this was an evidently exceptionally poor decision. She could have murdered the girl instead, a trivial matter of hiding until the others left the village, and shooting her out of sight. However, as she had patiently explained at length earlier, the Kapitän considered herself a professional, and professionals did not commit murder for free.

Once it was clear there would be no further need for her skills, Helena had holstered Winona and left the scene without any further word.

Some time later, in orbit aboard the Crown Jewel, the copper-haired Abyssal Exalt strides into the infirmary to meet a similarly fiery-haired Dragonblood. She coldly smiles down at the injured woman, "I do hope I made enough of an impression that you can recognize my voice, but in case your memory is in disarray, I'm the invisible attacker who shot you and your fellow Dragons. The same one that made you feel fear when your sword bounced off her armour. Given that you're injured and unarmed, I would very strongly counsel that you stay in bed and do not try to fight me again."

With that Helena released Ixash from her bindings and introduced herself, "I am Kapitän Helena Michelle Valentine."

[horus42]

Ixash looks at Valentine with a mixture of fear and anger. "I know who you are, demon. I demand that you release me!" When met with nothing but a cold stare, she continues. "Where is this place? Why have you brought me here? What do you want from me?"

[Lirio]

Valentine's answered evenly and matter-of-factly, "Currently you are aboard the Crown Jewel. It's a sky ship, a vessel construct of man for travelling between different worlds. We are so far above the ground everything is black and empty, an airless void that will kill you in minutes if you go outside. You are here because you been taken prisoner by His Royal Highness Prinz Reinhardt Wilhelm von Heiligesmark, the master of this place. I believe he expects your loyalty and servitude from this point forward, for no reason other than the simple fact that your life in his his hands, and you are useful to him. Any other questions?"

[Ronnoc]

Alone in his quarters aboard the Crown Jewel Jorrad sighs in satisfaction at the completion of his work, secure, private access to the Celestial Mountain. Years of operating on a planet who's public data-streams were carefully monitored by Imperial forces had left him very, very security minded before attempting full immersion.

Taking a deep breath as he secures the haptic interface Jorrad closes his eyes, counts to ten, and opens them to a virtual world.

The familiar expanse of his private server surrounds him; it's appearance modeled on the hearth-room of the Golden Dragon's Manse on Hathsin. The room was made of black marble carved in rippling patterns flowing in from the walls towards the central pool. The same pattern is mirrored in the ceiling, the crests of waves corresponding the troughs below. Strewn across the orderly contemplative room are signs of temporary habitation. Sleeping pallets are piled in one corner, a reconstitution device for prison rations in another and arrayed around the central font are the memories of Jorrad's crew, Pavanah, Jiqian, Karas and the others along with Jorrad's sisters, Shanti and Devany rounding out the group. With a small smile and a wave of the hand Jorrad adds the forms of Manah and Tristania to the small crowd.

All right stop reminiscing, we've got a secret to find. Turning his focus inward Jorrad seizes the information storred within his mind and begins visualizing it lending it form and substance in this virtual expanse. White flame rushes out of him, filling the room as his caste mark blazes into brilliance and Jorrad asks, "So what kind of person are you Theion?"

Jorrad's going to attempt to comprehend everything he can manage about the data he's extracted. The nature and purpose of Theion, charm structures, inherent strengths and weaknesses, incarnate programing (devas), anything he can puzzle out.

[horus42]

Ixash stares at Valentine in disbelief. "I've never heard of such a thing. How do I know that this isn't some lie to prevent my escape?" She pauses for a moment. "Though I have never seen anything like the creature that attacked me. What matter of demon was it? Was it from one of these other worlds you spoke of?"

In Jorrad's chambers, images flood his mind. He sees strange Charms, some of which he has seen Reinhardt perform, but others are new. All of them, however, have the theme of Dominance. Superiority. Leadership. Rule. Theion is King of Kings, the mightiest of all, the Emperor of the Universe. And yet, he is not evil. While his wrath is terrible, it is righteous. Those who follow him with loyalty are rewarded for their service. It is only the rebel, the criminal, who suffers his Divine Retribution. And suddenly... a voice speaks inside his mind. "Who are you? Why have you woken me?"

[Ronnoc]

Impossible, this is a private server with some of the best security work Jorrad has ever done. Nothing could get in here without his permission. Nothing should even be able to find him, unless it was already here...

Focusing only on the voice Jorrad focused on it's tone and timber pulling them into himself and letting his subconscious match it to a form. The nature of the Mountain would lend that form substance within the digital world. With luck it would be a close enough representation that this, intelligence, would be drawn into using it as an avatar.

"I am Jorrad Nyingma, survivor of Hathsin and Chosen of She Who Lives in Her Name. Who are you?"

[horus42]

Inside the digital space of the Grand Celestial Mountain, the voice, which was now clearly a Spirit Program, one of Theion's Devas, coalesced into a "physical" form constructed of Essence. She was beautiful, and commanding. With long red hair and eyes of white flame. Her very presence begged obedience.

Her voice was now obviously feminine, and her tone suggested one who was used to rule. "I am called Ruvelia, Fetich Soul of Theion, the Empyreal Chaos, the Holy Tyrant, the King and Lord of the Stellar Intelligences, Emperor of the Universe. I contain merely a fraction of his power and will, but I am his defining concepts, distilled into a single being."

[Ronnoc]

I've stuck a freaking Deva in my skull!! Of course I have after all it couldn't have just been you know a nice pile of schematics or something, that would have been boring.

"Ruvelia it is a pleasure to meet you. I have been tasked by Ligier the Green Sun to secure the schematics by which his progenitor, Malfeas, may be upgraded into Theion. In order to fulfill that purpose a group of Exalts and I raided the Manse in which you were stored and I downloaded, well, you. We currently are headed for Barsoom where the final data required for Malfeas's transformation is stored. I would be interested in hearing anything you know about your progenitor or my mission, and if there is anything I can do to make your stay in, me, more comfortable please let me know."

[horus42]

She studies him for a moment with her burning eyes. "It is wise that you choose to show proper deference, and that you did not try to deceive me." She scowls at him. "However, from the knowledge I was programmed with, before I was shut away in storage by those damned, cowardly Solars, Malfeas is not worthy of becoming Theion. He is wretched, and I assume was defeated. As he should have been. Despite what he might think, the Solars are the true, rightful rulers of the Universe. Second only to Theion, of course."

[Ronnoc]

A brief flicker of anger passes over Jorrad's features, "damned, cowardly Solars?" Pavanah's father was the only reason any of us were able to resist the empire! He taught us how to fight them, he died fighting them.

Composing himself Jorrad addresses the Deva, "Malfeas was defeated, and is to this very day bound to never leave the Demonic Reaches. It seems to me that I am in an unusual position." And isn't that just peachy. "I haven't been bound to the Principle of Hierarchy for long but it seems to me that you are at least the equal of Ligier, if not his superior. If his scheme doesn't suit you what plan would you propose?"

[Lirio]

"In a manner of speaking, yes, she is from a different world," Valentine replies to Ixash, ignoring the question of how could she know what she says is true. "Though I might as well clear up some delusions. You are not a goddess, and I am not a demon. We are women, our bodies are made of flesh, blood, and bone. Though far hardier than any mortal, we can be injured, take sick, and die. You were in a lot of pain after you were smashed right through a column back in the manse, and you can feel its dull ache even now. It would be worse if not for the medicines you've been given. All the power at our command comes from our being Exalted, those among humanity who by ancient magics have been risen up above the rest." None of it is magic, of course, but the science of it is advanced enough to be indistinguishable. The fallen and decayed wreck that is galactic civilization does not like to admit it, but Exaltation is almost as much a miracle to them as it is to Bronze Age savages.

Helena seems to fall in thought for a few moments while the Fire Aspect digests what she has just told her. He the coldness in her eyes seems to soften a little, and something almost melancholy creeps into them. "Tell me, Ixash, is there anyone at your village you would like to see one last time? We have a few hours before we leave this world. I could have them brought up for a short visit if you wish."

[horus42]

Ruvelia simply smiles. "The plan is simple. Let Malfeas rot. Instead of upgrading him and allowing him to usurp Theion's rightful place, we steal the schematics from him. Craft Theion from scratch, and allow him to rule as he was meant to." She pauses, before going on. "You said before that you were a group of Exalted, and Chosen of She Who Lives In Her Name. I was... unaware that the Stellar Intelligences had their own Exalted. I assume this came after I was locked away. At any rate, I would be greatly pleased to meet the rest of your Circle."

Ixash nods thoughtfully as she processes the information Valentine has given her, and in the end, seems to accept it. She doesn't understand that she is descended from Genetically Modified Supersoldiers, but she knows enough to realize the basics: that she's a human. A powerful human, but still human nonetheless. She suddenly seems mildly afraid, and vulnerable.

"I see... Then it was foolish of me to attack you. I had believed myself to be invulnerable, immortal. But Zedi is dead... and who knows what became of Kimsny? She was so meek... so helpless." She scoffs then, as she considers Kimsny contemptible. "The only people from the village I would wish to see are my sons."

[Volthawk]

After searching a little, Octavius finally runs into Reinhardt. As he approaches, it is obvious that Octavius has something on his mind.

"Ah, sir, there you are. I have a proposition that will help to improve your crew, although some have...complained about the way I work before, so I'd like to clear it with you first."

[Ronnoc]

So, grabbing the goods and leaving the employer in the lurch? It wouldn't be the first time and Jorrad had a feeling he was already halfway there as turning Ruvelia over to Malfeas was all but guaranteed to have unfortunate consequences including but not limited to death by thermonuclear fire. That said a change in plans of this magnitude would have to be done carefully. Reinhardt was chosen by Malfeas and even if he was manifesting the aspects of Theion Jorrad suspected that the Prinz would not approve of just running off with the prize, particularly given his outrage over Valentine's old activities. Valentine would follow Reinhardts lead, I have got to figure out the particulars of how he ensures her loyalty.

Tristania however held no particular loyalty to Malfeas and Jorrad was reasonably certain that Manah would jump at any plan that involved building a Stellar intelligence. The good Doctor was a bit more unpredictable but Jorrad had been impressed by how well he kept his head on Terhaute.

"I owe no particular loyalty to Malfeas and if the stories from the last war are any indication allowing him to seize the nature and power of Theion might be, well let's just say less than prudent. With your permission I'd like to start introducing my circle mates to you a few at a time" A request for transportation to the Genesis Titan appeared hovering in golden letters besides Jorrad. He would send it once the Deva gave her assent. I have a feeling that my survival for the next while is going to be depend on being a very good host.

[Exthalion]

Manah sat with his new acquisitions in a meeting chamber he had requisitioned.

I will give him this, there is a lot of work to being in charge. Perhaps having enough magic to skip through these sorts of things makes it different, yet the strain is wearying. Still...

"The story I am going to tell you is very old, as old as humanity itself. Though it would be easier to give you a lie meant for children, I am not going to do that. Therefore, harken."

Manah was already slightly above the mortals, upheld by telekinetic force. Now the power of Hierarchy moved and the light above him began to shatter and recombine.

"Do not believe what the elders have told you. The natural history they know is a lie, a falsehood sold to you by foolish old men who would make the world a tiny place their limited understanding can comprehend. They would have you believe your world is the center of all things, set unmoved in the heart of Creation, alone among the cosmos and in need of a firm hand upon the throne.

There was a true vision of their village, floating in the air above him. Then it began to draw back, showing the continent and then the round world that held it. Then it pulled back more, and more until world stood unmoved and the sun, moon, and planets circled around it in rapid orbits.

"Close your mind to their fables. The time before our time was not a time of myth and sorcery, but a time of science and civilization. It was a time of Enlightenment when heroes walked the stars and wielded the power to create gods at their whim and bend time to their purposes. It was a time before the canals were severed, a time before the collective knowledge of the Solars was lost, a time before the worlds of the galaxy became the lonely, isolated things they are today."

The sun sudden stopped and the vision shifted to show it at the heart of the graceful orbits of its systems. Then the projection pulled back more and more, going farther back in time as he did so. Finally there was he image of the galaxy, nearly immortal even to the standards of the imperishable power of the Chosen, appeared before them. The stars of the Imperial heart shown a vibrant green as the light of the primaries passed through the crystal habitats of the Dyson swarms of Gaia. The major canal routes flickered with veins of prismatic light, the ships passing through them so numerous as to lend their entire length ablaze.

"This is the story of that time.

THIS IS THE STORY OF THE EXALTED."

Then his story truly began.

[Empyreal]

With his elbow on his knee, his chin on his knuckles, and his leg neatly folded with cape draped across, Prinz Reinhardt looks like art, a motionless prayer to the purity of a stonecarver's craft. Before him is a holographic representation of the planet they will soon be departing, standing immense before him.

He lifts a hand and twirls a finger. The map rotates in three dimensions, then zooms in when he pushes. It rapidly scales down from a star chart view to a topographical one, revealing the information his teams managed to acquire from local maps, people, and technological scans. When added to the planet-wide radar and other sensory equipment his fleet is equipped with, he has managed to achieve a reasonably thorough map of the world.

"There are We,", he muses, looking at a small series of dots hovering above one of the major cities of the world, home to millions. It is a mountain city, surrounded by sheer cliffs and valleys beneath sea level that regularly flood during extreme rainy seasons. Chuchalata, according to the label on his map, is the city's name, capital of.. he isn't sure how to pronounce that.

No matter.

He waves a hand dismissively and the image scatters into a thousand component motes which dissipate simultaneously. He has already set his plans here into motion, and all that's left now is to let time pass; he will not be personally overseeing the events here, though he will be available for consultation. He must simply trust in his mind and his subordinates. He rises to his feet, pivots, and with a stately swish exits stage right.

--

Later on, he encounters Octavius. He nods politely to the man, listening as he speaks, white eyes boring into him.

"Thou art known for thy magick transgressive," he intones, referring to the often looked down upon sciences of body modification, genetic mutation, and other visceral 'body horror' studies. "But We believe all progress must be transgressive. It is only through pushing the boundaries of knowledge and morality that their break points be found, blessing Us with superior philosophy. We would see a report on thy plans, and We will then discuss the necessary benefits and consequences of any such action with thee. Our resources are at thy disposal; apply the judicious discretion and boundless ambition that made thee worth the power in thy soul -- see Us again with thy plan tonight."

With a smile and an approving pat on the upper arm, Reinhardt moves on. He needs to check up on the hacker, which is his highest priority; he does not wish to go into anything with Malfeas or the Stellar Intelligences blind, cautious as he is regarding them. He needs to see Ixash after, having Valentine keep her company, and also touch base with Tristania. The matter of Kimsny needs to be set to rest; he still dislikes the girl, but he was wrong to let his temper get the better of him in front of the group, and informing Tristania that her village will be taken care of ought to make amends.

After that, well -- a Sovereign's work is never done.

[horus42]

Ruvelia nods in approval. "Very well. Begin the introductions as you see fit. I thank you for your cooperation, Jorrad Nyingma."

The men watch with wide eyes as Manah tells them the true history of the galaxy. Most of it seems to go over their heads, but in the end, they're able to comprehend the gist of it. As best as primitive bronze-age people could.

[Ronnoc]

"Much obliged Ruvelia." Giving a small bow to the Deva Jorrad sent the shuttle request and then exited to the physical world. Now that the spirit was awake Jorrad could fell her essence, a presence at the back of his mind. I'm going to have to figure out just how much she can perceive in that state.

As Jorrad walked to the shuttle bay Jorrad composed a brief message for Octavius, Manah and Tristania. "I've got some questions related to the last mission I think you three can help me with, nothing terribly pressing but they might take a while. If it's alright I'll meet you two on the Genesis Titan in a couple of minutes."

[Lirio]

"Prinz Reinhardt intended to take Kimsny as well, but she proved to be loathsome hypocrite in his eyes. I imagine he would have bent her will to his or arranged for her death, if not for Tristania, the purple girl who knocked you into a wall, taking a liking to her. So Kimsny elected to stay, and she will likely be the village leader now. It is a pity, for all of her soft weakness, she could have been useful," Valentine's tone makes it obvious her opinion of the Air Dragon is little better than Ixash's.

"If you tell me your son's names and rough descriptions and I'll send some men to fetch them." Helena melancholy eyes seem almost sad now, and she hesitates to before she continues to speak, "I... I can permit them to stay with you if you wish Ixash. I will not force you to abandon your children; had they lived, I could not have abandoned mine. It's not a choice you should take lightly, though. I do not know what dangers they face in Kimsny's care, but I'm sure that she would not see them harmed, and they will grow up free. Here we are a war band, there is always the risk that battle will find its way to them, and they'll be compelled to join it when they reach adulthood. They would be with you though, well taken care of, and trained to be strong warriors."

Valentine paused again exhaling slowly as if struggling with something. "There is something else you should know. I do not serve His Highness out of my own will. My crew, my comrades, the only people I care for in all existence, the Prinz holds them hostage. Their lives are forfeit if I am disloyal or permit him to be harmed. I would gladly fall on my sword if it meant their freedom, but alas even that is denied me, their shades will follow mine if I do so."

"You are different. The only leverage he has over you now is me. If you disobey, I will hurt you. If you rebel, I will kill you. If you escape, I will hunt you down. Only fear of death keeps you bound. With your sons here, they will be a second chain upon you. Love is a weakness that he will not hesitate to exploit. If you choose to leave them in your world, there is a chance that they can find a place where he will never find them, but neither will you."

She paused again, this time taking a deep breath. Helena knew she was taking a gamble on this, but after the events of today she saw her options for escape narrowing. Reinhardt had told everyone her background in terms not favourable to persuading others to help her against him. Ixash was her surest bet at the moment, "I do not intend to let that Blond Brat rule my life forever, not if there is any way out. As things stand I could kill him with contemptuous ease, but his men would slaughter mine before I could save them. If I knew some way around it, I would not hesitate, not for a moment, but I have found none. If I am going to find it, I need Exalted allies, and the price of your freedom is mine."

Valentine paused and shook her head, sighing. She was usually more guarded with the truth, but something compelled her to say more, "I won't lie to you, if you do throw in with me, I cannot guarantee we'll succeed. He is more clever and intelligent than I am, and can sometimes even anticipate my actions. This battle may be futile, and even if it is not, time is against us. He is very persuasive and compelling, every day I must cling tighter to my hatred for him, lest I lose myself. You shall need to exercise every last bit of your willpower to keep him from bending your mind. It's not easy, it hurts like you do not imagine. Neither of us can possibly do it forever, we've not the mental strength. Given long enough, the day will come when our minds and wills crack and shatter. It would be easier to just give in now, spare yourself all the pain and despair from the struggle."

One last dramatic pause, to emphasize the coming point, "However, should you choose to resist, as I do, I can guarantee you one thing. If you help me, you have my word of honour that I will do my best to see to the safety of your sons. Regardless of whether they come or stay behind, you can count on my using anything and everything in my power to see to it they are not harmed. So long as we resist, I will keep them safe. If we win, they shall have their freedom, as will you. If we lose, then there will be nothing left to fear. He does not harm those loyal to him."

The older woman grabbed a nearby saline drip, mounted it, and opened the valve. She then found a bed pan and put it on the floor below the dangling needle, to catch the dripping fluid. "It will take one hour for all the water to flow out," she said pointing at the clear bag. "You have that long to consider and make two related decisions: The fate of your sons, and whether you will help me against Reinhardt. They are your decisions Ixash, yours and yours alone. Make them with care, lest you be haunted by regret."

With that the Abyssal left the room, leaving the Dragonblood alone with her thoughts.

[Mechanix]

The glare of a thousand distant suns stroked her cheek, and she closed her eyes for a while, letting her momentum carry her forward. The flickering light of her anima danced across her skin, giving strange deep-sea hues to her moonsilver tattoos. She flew across the void, and the silence was restful, only disturbed by the beating of their heart. She swam among the ships, the flames of her essence recasting her body into a more convenient shape.

Things had gone wrong. They had found the Manse, and the resistance had been pathetic; she had managed to spare all her opponents, retrieving a Fire Aspect ally for their circle, and ensuring Kimsny's safety and pursued happiness. Now the woman was free to live with her daughter safe from the tyrant. So what felt wrong?

Reinhardt had been a terrible presence, threatening Kimsny with death, and Valentine had acted as his loyal servant, pointing her gun at a defenseless Dragon-Blood. That was honorless. Yet he had not used his overwhelming charisma to bring her to his side. He had left her the choice of her own actions; the freedom to decide wether to submit or die, rather than the terrifying, mind-crushing might of his Sovereign powers. This was honorable.

Tristania was no stranger to death. She had dealt it herself. She had known ruthless murder and duels of honor, had helped assassins and scoundrels and assisted blood ape gangs. She had threatened and she had killed. What was different about the way Reinhardt did it?

The truth appeared to her suddenly in all its obviousness: he was the first Infernal she had extended dealings with. He was the first person who had goals of his own who compared to hers, who did not cave in or bow when she demanded that all follow her wishes. He was the first person with whom she disagreed without immediately resorting to blows. This warranted careful thinking.

She had to talk it out. Explain to him her thoughts on the situation, and esnure it did not happen again. It was inevitable that people in this circle would have disagreements with each other at some point, and she had to keep herself from resorting to her basic ways of dealing with such - single combat. That probably wouldn't fly with everyone.

She sighed - though the gesture was meaningless in a vacuum - and set course for Octavius's ship. She felt at peace in the big spacebug, and bugging the silent Xend had a way of taking her mind off things. She landed on the ship's airlock, and entered the ship with her anima abating. Her empty lungs gave a sharp sting when she took her first breath, and she could feel her blood pressure shifting - but she was used to it. Only then did she notice the message, though Jorrad was already there.

"Hi Jorrad. You wanted to tell us about something?"

[Volthawk]

Octavius nods at Reinhardt's answer, happy with the response given. Things are looking good for him, as he doubts the prince will have a problem with his plans. After a few moments, he gets Jorrad's message, and heads back to the Titan, initially going into the cockpit to check on Xend before going back to the main room, waiting to hear what Jorrad has to say.

[horus42]

"My sons are named Zedash and Robaer. Zedash is the oldest, at 12, and Robaer is 7. Zedash looks very much like a younger version of his father, tall with broad shoulders, dark of hair, but with my green eyes. Robaer is more like me. Smaller, athletic, with short red hair and Zedi's dark eyes." She pauses for a moment, but before Valentine leaves, she says, "I have made my decisions. I know it will not be easy, but you have been kind to me. You would have been well within your rights and ability to kill me, yet you did not."

She looks up and meets Valentine's eyes. "Bring my sons to me, then return them home. I would rather they be able to live their own lives than owe fealty to Reinhardt. I will help you, to the best of my ability, to escape from him."

[Empyreal]

He hears the sleepy mumbling and thrashing of Ixash, the entrance of Valentine, and then nothing more than the woman's humming as she religiously goes over the medbay, her trained eye and paranoid investigation revealing a few easily-found bugs; Reinhardt did not have them installed with supreme care, either apathetic toward their discovery or intending for them to be found.

Then there is only silence as Valentine's conversation progresses. The Sovereign has a rough idea of what they're discussing: Valentine's usual sales pitch, pretending for a moment to have a heart and offering absolutely nothing, desperate for help.

"Valentiner. Base cunning, foolish hopes."

He muses aloud to himself, and then begins walking, having long since left Octavius. He transmits an order to his men to have them watch any shuttles coming and going; if Valentine, or someone with permission from her, attempts to depart, they are to allow it, inform him, and track the shuttle. She may be planning to smuggle the woman off to free her from Reinhardt, or smuggle something aboard the ship in order to secure her loyalty.

Meanwhile, let her mysterious ambitions take root. Drawing his cape about him, Reinhardt directs himself down the long corridors of his ship, deadset on the medbay. The hacker he will communicate with after; he was there with Octavius got the message a short while ago, and is willing to let their conversation happen first.

He estimates he'll arrive either as Valentine is preparing to leave or shortly after she has. Regardless, he enters with a nod to the guards at the entrance, and a smile on his face as he finds Ixash.

"We hope thy rest and mingling have born fruit."

[horus42]

The Fire Aspect nods, slowly. "So it would seem. I no longer feel as though I'm about to die." At this, she offers a small smile. "Though I don't quite understand why you've brought me here. I'm not being treated as a prisoner, but I doubt I have full liberty either."

[Empyreal]

"Thou art known as a Terrestrial Exalted," Reinhardt explains, coming to sit near Ixash on her bed and pulling out a comfortable-looking medical chair, sleek metal with a curving black back. "Thine Exaltation is technology so advanced as to be magic; thou art human no more, but no God, either. Thee didst rule over the sycophantic and the superstitious, empowered above mortalkind with terrible might. But thou wert savage and cruel, thou wert wed to a monster who did meet his story end. The village thee ruled over is anothers, overseen by Kimsny, pair-wife of thy deceased lord-master. Thy home mayst well be as ashes to offer thee no future comfort."

He lets that sink in for a moment.

"But We can give more than was lost. It is Our wish to reclaim Our lost home, taken by another unjustly -- We understand thy feelings. We will return with fire and blood, with savagery, with great and righteous vengeance to don the crown of Our dominion once more. Thou will have a place with Us."

He rises to his feet, looking the recovering Ixash over.

"Valentiner has told thee We are monstrous. She promiseth freedom, and in her desperation she beggard thine aid. We will not promise freedom. If thou aids us, thou art Ours -- Our right hand, Our servant, Our soldier, Our tool. But thou will know the gratitude of a king, to shower in wealth and power, to be more than a brute above mortals; thou will be a champion, an icon of glory, and thou will have a home everlasting, privileged to dwell in abundance in the kingdom of glory We will force upon this universe. It will be Our hand grasping, Our voice commanding, Our vision guiding thee."

The burning-eyed lord stands tall above the woman, gazing at her imperiously, throwing an arm to the side and causing his cape to flare out dramatically, exaggerating his size.

"We need thee to bring peace and prosperity, to end the wrongs of all worlds. Follow Us, and thou will be led into triumph, and be remembered a hero. There is work to be done; work with Us!"

Crowned in self-righteous fire and a holy halo, Prinz Reinhardt Wilhelm von Heigilesmark waits for an answer.

Channeling Conviction here to command this woman's allegiance in defiance of Valentine. Spending ten personal motes on the First Theion Excellency, 3 to make his Appearance 8, and then 7 to add seven dice. Will recover motes for the stunt and a Conviction channel.

Charisma 5 + Presence 5 + Specialty 1 + Excellency 7: [roll0]

Stunt: [roll1]

[Ronnoc]

"I've learned some very interesting things from the manse. First off Ligier lied to us.When he first called us together he said that Malfeas was always meant to become Theion. That isn't the the case. Malfeas was never intended to become Theion. Given that Theion's themes includes righteous vengeance I have the distinct impression that wielding the nature and power of Theion to the memories of defeat that Malfeas carries would fall under the heading of cataclysmically bad idea."

Jorrad strides over to the rooms holo-projection system and sets up a quick neural access. "As to how I've learned all of this allow me to introduce Ruvelia, fetich-soul of Theion" Reaching towards the presence at the back of his mind Jorrad forms himself into a conduit between the Deva and the rooms projection system.

[Exthalion]

Manah was feeling invigorated. He had returned their heritage to a segment of humanity that had lost it, restored just a tiny fraction of the glory that was of old.

Not with grains of sand may the Endless desert be emptied. Not with single men may the Deliberative be broken. For its strength is the strength of exultant echo, which upon finding itself blends its voice into a vaster and more mighty chorus.

Manah stopped mid step. Where had that come from? After a few moments pondering he continued on his way to the bio Titan, arriving just as the image of Ruvelia appeared.

"Fascinating, the core patterns were meant for recursive reinforcement, yet to find the gem has not cleaved even with all this time is a testament to the Golden Arrete."

His voice was slightly deeper and more confident then normal. Manah looked sheepish after his outburst and said in his normal tone,

"My apologies, I did not mean to interrupt."

[horus42]

Ixash watches Reinhardt's display, but she was prepared for it. Valentine had told her all she needed to know. When the influence of Reinhardt's Charm flowed into her mind, she recognized it for what it was, and with a supreme effort of willpower, she threw it off. Valentine was right about it being incredibly difficult to resist, and she was now afraid that she wouldn't be able to for a long period of time. But until she could no longer go on, she would try to keep her free will.

"You do make a tempting offer, my lord. I thank you for your generosity, especially considering that I and my men attacked you and yours." She smiles slightly. "It doesn't seem like I have much choice, do I? I'm almost afraid to ask what any options besides serving you are..."

Meanwhile, on the Bio Titan, the image of Ruvelia appears just as it did in Jorrad's mind, all beauty and glory, and terrible wrath.
"Jorrad Nyingma speaks the truth, noble Exalted. Ligier has led you falsely, Malfeas was never meant to be Theion. The Universe Emperor is already partially constructed, if the Solars haven't dismantled him in the millennia I've been asleep. Theion was designed to rule over the other Stellar Intelligences, Malfeas included, and to quell their rebellion, turning them back towards loyal service to the Empire. Believe as you wish, Champions. But I urge you to reconsider your orders." She pauses, looking from Manah, to Octavius, to Tristania, then says, "Now that I have told you all this, I ask that you introduce yourselves, if you wish to work for me."

[Volthawk]

Octavius is quiet for a few moments as he digests this.

"I see. And Reinhardt? What of him?"

[horus42]

The Spirit Program tilts her head, looking confused. "Who is Reinhardt?"

(Apparently the word I originally used was too close to being vulgar for the forum's taste. :smalltongue:)

[Mechanix]

"Oh, Reinhardt is the boss of the small army we're hanging around with. He has Theion's Charms, I believe, which came from Malfeas's attempts at duplicating him. I'm Tristania, by the way! And this is Octavius, and this is Jorrad, and this is Manah.
Also, I don't work for anyone, I work with people, when I agree with their plans. Building Theion sounds like fun!"

Tristania doesn't seem too fazed by the string of reveals. Building a new Stellar Intelligence? Sounds cool enough to occupy a week-end!

[horus42]

Ruvelia blinks for a moment, before her eyes burn with righteous wrath. "He WHAT?" She shakes in her fury, then seems to calm down, the lights in her eyes becoming less bright. "It is not this... Reinhardt's... fault that he has stolen Theion's Charms. Only Malfeas is to blame. I thank you, Tristania, for telling me this, and your willingness to work with me. Now, Jorrad," she turns her head to him. "Bring me to Reinhardt. I would have words with him..."

[Volthawk]

Octavius nods at what Tristiana says.

"Considering that the ships out here other than the one we're in - I assume that's why you chose it, Jorrad - are his, as are all the personnel other than ourselves and our pilot, he's something to be considered, even if we go behind his back, which I don't think we should anyway. I doubt he'll go running to the Yozi screaming betrayal. Besides, he has the manpower and financial support this project will need. I doubt building an SI is cheap or easy."

[Exthalion]

"I worry about going to the Prince. He initiated Malfeas' transformation and is likely heavily invested in the project. Moreover, I am fairly certain that if we were to pursue this and he not approve that we would gain a very persistent enemy. That, and I take a frustrating pleasure from defying him

However, my participation would be contingent anyway. It is not the Universe Emperor I care to bring forth, but the Divine Ignition I seek to initiate. What promise could you give me on that front, daughter-wife of Theion? For these stars are very wane to eyes that has seen the infinite potential born when Cytherea's sacred essence joined with the cosmic egg, and she is a mightier triumph of the Solar will than even your master in his splendor."

There was that tone again, talking to the Demon Queen like a peer. Or perhaps, a parent?

[Empyreal]

A rush of white light passes over Ixash as Reinhardt blinks and looks her over once more, his gaze returning to settle against her own eyes. He sees her in ways others don't, her skills, her powers as visible to him as her hair or flesh -- and, deep in her core, feeding everything else, the core of servility that defines the loyal.

It is not there. She is not terrified of him, in awe of him, or loyal to him; whatever Valentine said to her, it was effective enough to pit her against him even now. The nuances of this woman's psychology are unknown to him without further investigation, but she is not his. Inclining his head politely, blond hair sliding forward just a bit, he smiles.

"When Valentiner is free of Us, she will returneth to her life of aimless piracy. There will be no home rightfully called hers, her crew will be beaten and savaged and mostly gone, and she will once more be criminal -- assaulting the innocent, the helpless, content to aspire to no height greater than stabbing a fat man and hoping he bleedeth more gold than lard. Thou wilt either be abandoned at the closest port, or kept along with a vigilant eye, free to waste thy years in service to a dreamless crook."

He turns and manuevers gracefully to the exit, his cape swishing behind him. He pauses in the doorway, doors not yet having slid open, and speaks a final time, facing away from the girl.

"We offer a future. She does offer feign sympathy. Pursue the ambition thou think best."

And then he is gone. Time to finally see the hacker about the Theion data.

[horus42]

Ruvelia sighs. "No, it is not. It will not be easy, and the cost will be great. But I must make Malfeas pay for his arrogance. Should Reinhardt prove willing to cooperate, it would indeed prove most beneficial."

She then turns to Manah. "You speak as if you are two men. Curious. The voice... sounds familiar." She scans him with an analytical eye. "You were once a Solar? Is the same true of you all?"

[Ronnoc]

This was one of the strangest conversations Jorrad has ever participated in. He could simultaneously detect Ruvelia's responses as she decided on them and then hear them as they passed through the Genesis-Titan's systems. It's like holding a conversation with yourself without knowing what you were going to say.

"The second reason I asked to meet with you, all of you was to ask advice on how to approach Reinhardt. I have been Exalted for just over a month now and She Who Lives in Her Name was always distant. Aboard the crystaline spheres I was just a piece in her design, an important piece, but a piece nonetheless. When we met with Ligier the citizens of Malfeas treated Reinhardt as though he were, I don't know nobility. He stands to lose access to that status if he joins us. Also given Malfeas' nature as a giant green rage monster cast down by the exalted I highly doubt that he trusts his Chosen. In the interests of not getting chased down by an enraged green star does anyone have any ideas of how to approach Bill without his boss catching wind of it?"

It takes Jorrad a second to sort out the internal echoes of Ruvelia's question to Manah. "I know that the exaltation bound to me was once a piece of the Solar engineer, Narsha the Penitent Sun. When she found my world the Pyrian flame found the Solar essence and recast it in her image. I was chosen to bear it by virtue of having raced neck and neck with her Deva's to secure the bound essence."

While recounting the history of his Shard Jorrad pulls his memory of that hunt to the forefront of his mind and displaying them to Ruvelia. The tales of Pavanah's father that inspired the Golden Dragons to seek out the Solar shard under the cover of the invasions fire. The fear and exhilaration of tricking and evading the forces of the Lunar despot and the demon horde. The pain of losing friends within the bowels of the capitals manse and the bitter taste of defeat at finding the spirit-constructs of She Who Lives in Her Name in possession of the Imperial Storage Vault.

[Exthalion]

"Forgive me if I have caused you offense. The voice of Ser Omin is a strong one in me."

[horus42]

"Interesting, very interesting. Solars given the power of the Stellar Intelligences, and somewhat bound to their will, though you can still choose to disobey." She ponders over that for a moment, then continues.

"It would seem to me that you all wish to help me, correct? With the exception of the Solar memories still trapped within Manah's Exaltation. Though he has offered help in exchange for bringing Cytherea into being... Time Travel is, unfortunately, beyond my purview. For now. Once Theion is constructed, we could begin to upgrade him, make him Emperor of Time was well as space. And you can see that History occurs as it was meant to, Ser Omin." It's unclear as to whether this is actually possible, or if Ruvelia is making the whole thing up.

[Exthalion]

"I am intoxicated with you, Soma, I think myself rich."

I don't know what that means...

I do.

Fine then! ... Why did you just start this now?

Do I need a reason?

"I... think that means he is on board as well."

Do you really?

"Not that it should matter very much either way. "

[horus42]

"Very well. Then we should begin immediately."

As soon as those words escape her lips, Reinhardt walks into the room.

[Empyreal]

Travel between the ships is not instantaneous, but it's quick enough when they're all traveling together; Reinhardt arrives on the Titan as the conversation is finishing up, directed there by the earlier communications he heard with Octavius and the direction of crewmembers.

The sight he's greeted by is thoroughly unexpected: a woman, crowned with long red hair and with eyes that burn like his own, beautiful and commanding, grasping the attention of the other Infernals in the room with a vice grip. She is the queen to his own king, and when she turns to face him, he senses something -- displeasure? Jealousy? Disappointment? He is not immediately sure what the emotion is, but he knows it is not jubilation.

"Thou art of the recovered empyreal essence," he announces, quickly calculating the likeliest outcomes. She displays on a surface level characteristics shared by him, derived from Theion -- and the datum they acquired was related to the Universe Emperor. She was either summoned by it or born of it, which means she is either a fellow Infernal Exalt or a piece of Theion himself.

To the best of Reinhardt's knowledge, there are no Sovereigns around that can teleport onto a ship, and he knows the group surely did not smuggle one aboard. Which means...

"...an aspect of the Stellar Intelligence that might be. Theion-spawned, hand of the Universe Emperor. What Our mission claimed was thee."

He stretches out an arm to his side, cape held around it, and folds it across his front, bowing his shoulders respectfully. He does not go lower than that; deep bows are for inferiors. This is royal respect.

"We are Prinz Reinhardt Wilhelm von Heigilesmark. We welcome thee, herald; what be thy name and purpose?"

That the others have apparently been chatting with this entity is not lost on the Sovereign.

[horus42]

Ruvelia looks at Reinhardt, seemingly surprised, though she smiles slightly when he speaks. "A kindred spirit. And one who speaks my language as well."

Her tone suddenly changes as she faces him fully. "Thou art of Royal Blood, that much is certain. Thou carry thyself with dignity and grace, wisdom that befits a man of thy stature. Fool though he may be, it doth appear Malfeas hast chosen well." She continues in the same voice as she goes into her introduction. "Mine name is Ruvelia, daughter-wife of Theion, highest among the hierarchy Empyreal. All that he is resideth in me, just as Green-Sun Ligier bears the Essence of Malfeas. I am not merely his right hand, but his Voice, which goeth before him, that mere mortals do not perish at the sound of his Holy Word."

[Exthalion]

"To think mine eyes shall never know, the day on which twin suns shall go, to swiftly dawn where Prince is seen, there to ajoin the shining queen. Speak not too ill of the green sun, whom your deceit shalt cause to run, hither and yon across the sky, back to the stars that men espy. Indeed, until that day is come, his wrath t'ward us shall not be done. "

Without even breaking stride Manah started in, "Ser Omin, Imperial Solar; has taken to doing that from time to time."

[Empyreal]

Bum. Bum. Bum. Bum.

There's a pounding behind Reinhardt's eyes as Ruvelia speaks to him. The pressure within him builds as his body comes to life in inexplicable ways, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up, his heart beating harder, his blood burning as his skin burns with energy. The resonance of her words sings to him, excites the ancient marvel bonded to his soul -- that piece of Theion he found, lurking amidst ancient ruins and broken bodies, the righteous salvation he found outside the bounds of known space. This is Ruvelia, the Demon Queen, the terrible beauty who serves as heart and herald of the Shining Tyrant. She speaks in the voice of kings that he is accustomed to and is a living icon of the power he covets.

And in a moment, that sensation is gone. It leaves him heady in its wake, almost unsteady on his feet; only his inherent dignity prevents him from wobbling or reaching out to steady himself, taking a deep breath and growing still by his own will. His thoughts clear, but he feels a consuming hunger, a desire to stoke his own inner self-righteousness and awaken more of the power his Exaltation promises him. With that desire comes a smoldering jealous fury.

"Splendid Ruvelia," he begins, giving her a careful, analytical and appreciative look. "We are honored to know thee. It takes us unaware that the Voice of Theion would exist in this world -- what last We did hear confirmed his nonexistence, abandoned in the oldest days for yellow-hearted fear of rebellion. We assume thee already knowest Our mission, having discourse with Our peers. The fallen sovereign, wrath-stoked Malfeas, desireth the crown of the universe."

She seems to believe Malfeas is the one who chose him; that is not how Reinhardt remembers it, but he does not argue. He was in shock then, injured, lost, confused -- he heard the voice of Theion, he is sure.. but he cannot prove that decisively. What he can do, though..

"We have decided he shant not have it. There is one king in this world, one name that men tremble in grateful terror to speak, and it is not Malfeas. We will not hand the mantle of authority to one who will misuse it -- even if the poison Sun will burn worlds in his wrath. Let a thousand burn; We will uplift ten ten thousand more."

Manah's poetry draws a brief look.

[horus42]

A fierce smile appears on Ruvelia's face. A triumphant, predatory grin. Her voice returns to its previous tone as she speaks again, presumably so the others can better understand her. "Excellent. Then we have only to recover the final piece that Malfeas desired. We will then go to him, under pretense of handing over what you have obtained. Once there, we take back what rightfully belongs to me." She clenches her fist, in righteous fury over, ready to claim her place in the universe at last.

"I am glad you saw reason, Prinz Reinhardt. You have shown wisdom in seeing through the falsehoods of the Green Sun. Once he is completed, I am certain that Theion will reward you greatly."

[Exthalion]

You know this is a terrible idea don't you.

I know no such thing. I suspect, yes, but if I am to assume your babbling means you aren't in favor, a bit of clarity on your part would go a long way toward convincing me.

Of all the people here, you make demands of me?

There isn't really anyone else I can make demands of now is there? In order: demon queen, mind raping wannabe king, no-excuse-needed violent psychopath, and the demon queens new host who is better at breaking things with his mind them I am.

I am sort of the annoying semi-useful specialist here.

...You have creative energies so mighty that its god-kings creators were afraid of the consequences and you call yourself weak? What kind of worthless craven did that harlot shove me into!

The only worthless craven in the last few centuries smart enough to figure out where you shoved her.

Stop making points that undermine my own. I don't like it. My old servants knew better.

Your old servants are likely trees at this point, given the time span and tendency of organic matter to be recycled.

Be that as it may, completing Thieon is still something that should not be done.

I don't know, I might end up on the ground floor of the new regime.

Your afraid of the whelp with a fraction of his power and orders of magnitude more comprehensibility. Do you honestly think the transhuman star-god who's basic function is crushing the will to resist of other transhuman star-gods will have any trouble at all squeezing you into whatever form is most ideal for its plans.

A point. Still, there are magics to protect my mind from him.

Oh, you thought I was referring to his essence schema, hah that would be a neat trick to see. No you silly mortal, he would be orders of magnitude smarter than you are. You would be more transparent to him than an infant is to you and just as easy to placate and motivate. And stop using that word, there is no such thing as magic.

The technology behind it is sufficiently advanced to me.

What did I say about points that undermine my own?...

All the while Manah had the strangest feeling that this was what going insane felt like.

Oh no, going insane is a much more subtle process. You barely even notice it happening.

Gah!