March of the Legion Sanguinary IC: The Diamond Road (Group B)

[Aevylmar]

Opening Music (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HX5onBw9Hbs)

OOC Thread (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=16058542#post16058542)

Few know that, hidden in the Thousand Peaks that run along the western edge of the Southern Desert, there sinks an ironclad fortress. Hewn from dead rock by the souls of the dead, it houses one of the finest collections of artifacts and one of the finest forces of soldiers in the world. For he has one cause, and one cause alone: Total domination of Creation, both the world of the living and the underworld. Only when that is completed can he rest, and until that blessed day arrives, no sacrifice is too great for his warriors.

Not even abandoning the only working ice-cream machine south of the Blessed Isle to answer another summons.

March of the Legion Sanguinary: Loyalist Abyssals, Ice Cream, and True Love.

For several thousand years, it was agreed that the chain of logic that bound the Legion Sanguinary to Merciless and away from action had not a single weak link. In order to take control of the Underworld, the First and Forsaken Lion must control large shadowlands. In order to control large shadowlands, he must destroy the cities of Creation. In order to destroy the cities of Creation, he must have an army that could manifest in Creation to fight for him. In order to have an army that could manifest in Creation to fight for him, he must control large shadowlands…

It was only after the Balorian Crusade that the first crack showed, and the terrible gaze of Oblivion’s General turned south. Only then when the border of habitability came so close to the Wyld that a city was founded - a city with a thousand weaknesses and a thousand armies, a city of gold and dust, a living testament to the power and the madness that greed inspired in mortals. Surely it must be so easy to stretch out a single hand and sweep that Gem into the darkness...

Prologue: Gem Must Die
7:26

The summons did not come at a particularly convenient time, or with warnings, or with any heed paid to the activities of the three Abyssals or the one companion who had been called up to serve. The message had been sent by the ghostly servants of the First and Forsaken Lion with all proper respect and with the appropriate forms, but it was not to the Lion’s war-chamber, but to one of his secondary meeting rooms. Nearby, perhaps; soundproof, certainly, but - a sign of lower importance.

This may have been why, instead of the First and Forsaken Lion at the head of the table, there sat the Black Heron, leaning back in an elegant… you can’t quite call it a throne, but is there any better name for it? It was appropriately important. Not just an ordinary chair, at any rate. Not the sort of seat that the First and Forsaken Lion would use, but the Princess Magnificent who he claimed for his right hand had finer tastes.

There are four seats for the four guests she had called to the council chamber, not counting her throne. Resting on the table were a map of caravan-routes, half-open, a seal of official authorization from the Lion - it still galled her, taking it, but however much she despised him, she remained bound to his service - and a letter from his spies along the Diamond Road. His spies bearing news of the only help Gem could get.

There was nothing she hated more than the First and Forsaken Lion. But they had one goal in common, and if she wished to see it accomplished, she must help him - for now...

And her guests arrived, and her musings ended.

Part One: The Diamond Road

[Inspector Valin]

First, in a stroke of happenstance she was not sure whether to thank or to curse, came Ebony Crane.

The Midnight had been in the midst of nothing of great importance when the message came, simply wandering the exterior of the Thousand as she often did. Merciless itself held little appeal for her: individual rooms, perhaps: the inhabitants, oh most definitely, but the fortress as a whole was barren, utilitarian and thus to Crane, ultimately uninteresting. Her training had taken place almost entirely within its walls, and they were all under orders to remain there in case needed, but there was nothing wrong with the occasional roaming, was there?

And the mountain beneath which she stood was grand, mildly amazing to someone who'd grown up in a city, knowing little but the urban environment. It reminded her of Jiao's tales of Meru on the Blessed Isle, although the old Ghost insisted the Thousand did not compare. The ascent was harsh, but fine robes or no, Crane was more than equal to it. She had spent the last half hour or so standing upon the western face of the great mount, close enough to its peak, a small spring bubbling placidly beneath her. Standing tall in the half light of the Calender, Ebony Crane's eyes followed the river down the mountainside as the ever calm stream of unbroken black water ran its course. Far off, she knew, lay the Font of Mourning, the great swamp and Shadowland, though the river faded into the darkness of ashen sand long before that, leaving the latter portion of its route invisible from this lookout point.

Still, that little river remained the path to Creation, or at least one of them. That was why Crane'd started coming to this spot, looking out towards the way home. It was only later she'd heard the stories of the swamp: whilst patronizing a tavern in a nearby city. A Solar and Lunar, dying side by side in war. Sometimes, existence did indeed seem to have a sense of humour. She would have to find some excuse to visit the area with Sky, once their duties were loosened a little. The whole place seemed comforting, at least in tale. A romantic retreat for the two of them to share, once they'd both risen in the Lion's favour...

The polite cough of a messenger ghost drew the Abyssal out of her reverie. She hadn't expected an interruption, but did not mind it overmuch. She smiled winsomely at the courier: the poor creature would've had quite the walk to meet her up here, and took the preferred parchment, scanning it swiftly. She started a little once she realized the summons it contained, and the seal that was in place upon it.

Of course, it comes now. Of course.

Bowing swiftly and muttering her thanks to the messenger ghost, Crane turned and begun to sprint down the mountainside, jumping and running along the winding path towards the base of the Thousand, and the entryway to Merciless. She had a lot of ground to cover, thousands of feet from the peak to the base and rocks slid around her as she went but the ambassador was fast enough when she needed to be and knew the way well enough. Nothing would detain her from this meeting.

Soon enough, she was in the shadow of the mighty Screaming Gate, humming along to the cries of those nailed to the mighty portal as she weaved her way past the throngs of ghostly petitioners that were making their way to give tribute to the lord within: the assembled ranks of grey figures parting swiftly at her approach. There was the mild sting of the gatehouse ward, and then, Crane was through. The Abyssal quietly ducked and bobbed through the Lion's ostentatious throne chamber where his favoured ghosts still held court, nodding her silent apologies to the senior courtiers and into the maze of lower passageways behind them that made up the body of Merciless.

It was a point of pride for Ambassador Crane that she had more or less memorized the layout now, confusing or no. The passages had a strong order to them if you approached them with the right mindset. A left turn, then second right, up the spiral stair to the second landing, second door on the right. As simple as the streets of Kirighast, once you knew where you were going. The Abyssal paused briefly outside the door, regaining her breath: it was unbecoming of a Deathknight to look impeded by something as simple as a light mountainside sprint. Finally, she stood tall and swung the door open, striding through confidently, ready for the Lion's counsel.

It was hard to conceal her surprise at the sight of the Black Heron.

Crane did her level best though, which was fairly impressive, face holding the polite neutral smile she'd worked hard to learn. A Deathlord's court was not the place ever to make a social gaffe, and this one was largely the Midnight's own fault. She should have read the calligraphy on the massager's massive more closely. Rolling with the punch, she bowed low to Princess Magnificent, holding perhaps a touch longer than she would for the First and Forsaken Lion. The warrior was not overly interested in social niceties beyond simple respect, but the Princess was easier to anger. The uttermost politeness in dealing with her was required, and to be fair, honestly owed. Whatever else you might say of her, she was still a Deathlord after all.

Of course, as the first one in, Crane had to make the choice of where to sit. Jiao had impressed this on her continually, and now was the moment to put such training into action. Glancing between the four seats, the Midnight picked the one to the Princess' immediate left: close, but not the presumption of the one at the right. Pulling the seat to the table, the Deathknight nodded a second time to Princess Magnificent. "My apologies for the delay in arrival, mi'lady. I was a short distance away when the summons reached me."

[Ascension]

Lost Moon of the Empty Sky has had much time in which to become familiar with the Underworld. "Familiar with" and "accustomed to" are subtly different things, and she has also had much time in which to become keenly aware of that difference. The land of the dead offers no succor to her, and neither fortune nor privilege has allowed her to attune to a manse whose hearthstone might allow her to carry a lifeline to Creation. So it is that she is an island of living Essence in this place, an isolated pulse of moonlight from a far-off land. In her meditations she feels only the void touch of emptiness, and occasionally the distant murmurs of Primordial corpses shifting in their eternal sleep.

Despite the barrenness of the act, she spends much of her time in the Underworld in meditation, or scribbling in her journal, or idly shuffling through the scrolls (or phantasmal shadows of scrolls) of centuries old Shogunate etiquette that Crane's tutor is wont to force on anyone who spends more than a few minutes in her presence. Her nature also means that there is little use for her in the Underworld. She is a weapon forged for use in that other realm, and there is little she can do in Merciless but tempt the more feral of the Lion's servants, like the Labyrinth-crazed Nephwracks, with the heat of her living blood.

The summons that comes for her, then, is welcome, despite its suddenness, simply for breaking the monotony that characterizes her life in death beyond time spent at Crane's side. To shift her garb to something more suitable to a formal meeting takes only a moment's thought, and the circuitous paths of the Lion's tunnels through the Thousand do not cause her significant delays, but she remembers how far afield Crane's wanderings can take her, and she pauses at the threshold, not wanting to risk the company of either her deathlord or any lieutenant he trusts well enough to deliver a briefing in his absence without her mate by her side.

Sure enough, her mistress comes along shortly after, and, as always, her eyes brighten at the sight of the ambassador. She does not want to distract Crane, however, and so she keeps to the shadow of the doorway until the grand lady passes through, content to follow after her in silence. There will be time for words later, when there's not a meeting to focus on.

A meeting with... the Black Heron. She does not allow shock to touch her eyes, much less disappointment or anger, but she seethes within at the insult to her mistress, to be handed off so, to be subjected to the commands of the Lion's least respectful servant. But while her self control is formidable, as is the speed of her response to unpleasant surprises, her social prowess is less refined than that of Crane, and her obeisance to the deathlord is somewhat swift and perfunctory.

She takes the seat at Crane's side, of course, and sits without words, only a glance toward Crane, hoping to catch the other woman's eyes.

[Aevylmar]

The Princess Magnificent returns the nod to Crane, slightly less deeply, but with a polite formality rather at odds with the way she acts when the Lion is near. "And you are nevertheless the first. Welcome, Ebony Crane. And the same greetings to Empty Sky, of course." Her acknowledgement of Sky is merely a twitch of her head.

She seems unusually... non-unhappy? The word 'cheerful' cannot be applied to Deathlords. But something's clearly gone right for her, which suggests that something's gone wrong for the Lion...

[Inspector Valin]

Crane nodded, quietly accepting the greeting from the Lady. That done, she glanced to Sky, smiling towards her mate with grateful surprise. She hadn't noticed the Varangian enter, but of course, the quiet woman was always there, always at her side. The Midnight's gaze lingered in Sky's bright brown eyes, lost for a moment looking towards her mate. She had earned her powers, her Exaltation, but the Lunar's loyalty and love was something Crane remained convinced she did not deserve. It was the one blessing she had above over most of her fellow Deathknights, and a thing she was grateful for with every passing of the Calender

Still, they were in company. Regretfully, Crane glanced down towards the various items that lay upon the table; marked maps of the Sotuh, a letter in Old Realm and the Lion's seal. whatever they added up to, it was enough to make Magnificent openly... positive. Polite, almost friendly. If this was some kind of plot, she was unlikely to be so overt about such things. No, the Princess had more likely just experienced a twist of good fortune, an event that served her own agenda.

And has chosen to share it with me and Sky?

Something was missing. But they were not all here yet, as the seats across from them revealed. Speculation was futile. That fact accepted for the moment, Crane turned back to Princess Magnificent, gesturing towards the centre of the table. "May I take a look at the map, mi'lady? I'd like to ensure I am familiar with them before the meeting." They could mean a number of things, but admitting to such total ignorance before the Princess was an unwise move. At any ascent on the Princess part, Crane gently but deftly shifts the parchment across the table, holding the letter in its original place with her off-hand. Time for that later. For now, there was the map to read. She spread it beneath her, ensuring Sky was able to peruse it should she wish, and started to follow the lines between the cities in her mind. What ran to where, and by what route?..

[Aevylmar]

She gives a faintly regal gesture of acceptance to Ebony Crane and quietly waits for the others to arrive.

The map focuses the Diamond Road running south along the eastern coast of the Thousand; in the north, the Realm client states around the southern Threshold, first among them the Lap, headed all the way south to Gem. Marked on it are all the barbarian tribes, settled villages, citadels, oases, and so forth and so on that the road runs through, all the way to the deep southern desert where it reaches Gem and trails into mere tracks headed for the Wyld.

[Ascension]

Sky ventures to slide her chair closer to Crane, almost purely in the interest of getting a better look at the map as the other woman lays it out in front of herself, and winces slightly at the sound the chair's legs make skidding across the unforgivingly rough-hewn floor common to Merciless.

The general layout of the map is not unfamiliar to Sky, but the level of detail it displays gives great credit to the skill of the Lion's spies (and his cartographers, presumably). She recognizes the Diamond Road as what it is, a lifeline for the people of the deep desert, a completely necessary trade route. She can imagine the task at hand well enough, though the particular details are unclear. The lords of death have only a very few things to offer the land of the living.

[Inspector Valin]

Crane, by contrast, approached the map from the North, thinking of the alternative side to the connection created by the Diamond Road. The Lap, the lands around it. Perhaps Chiaroscuro. That one great red line gave Gem access to the coast, and vis versa. Were Gem to fall, that would be the path any refugees took... and were it to receive mortal re-enforcements, they would most likely come that way.

Her eyes turned again to the letter. To read it would give her the answer, explain the situation, but there was time for that once the meeting begun. For now, she returned her gaze to the map, running her finger along the road. Whatever the Princess had in mind, the details of the road and what lay upon it was probably of relevance. Were there any significant threats they could exploit? Which oases would be likely camping spots? There were many possible markings worthy of attention, no matter how the upcoming briefing and discussion would play out.

[The_Snark]

The Muse slips swiftly, softly through the halls of Merciless, bare feet ghosting over cold stone.

She holds her shoes in one hand. There are places in the South where it isn't wise to go barefoot: the open desert, for instance, where the sand burns by day and freezes by night, and rasps harshly no matter what the hour. Or the slopes of the high mountains, littered with gravel, slate and pumice. Most places in the South, in fact, are hostile to unshod feet - but not here. The Lion's fortress is ringed with myriad traps and defenses both inside and out, but he never bothered to lay any trap that could be foiled by the simple expedient of wearing boots. And so: barefoot. She finds a perverse sort of humor in that, vulnerability in the midst of the largest fortress in Creation. (Or the largest fortress not in Creation, if one is a stickler for accuracy.) The floor beneath her feet is cold as few things in the living world are, the chill of stone which has never touched sunlight. It hurts and her toes are numb but there's a sort of pleasure in that, halfway between asceticism and masochism.

(Secretly, she suspects that most Immaculates don't know the difference. Virtue is its own reward - hah!)

Some of the ghosts see her as she passes through the halls. It isn't as though she's making a real effort to go unseen, standing half-a-step apart from the world as she sometimes does. No point - well, no point save for childish glee in watching ghosts pass her by like, hah, a ghost - and the strain is considerable. Besides, the Lion prefers that his servants remain within reach. It's happened in the past: a messenger gone astray, a plan delayed hours if not days, an official reprimand. Painful, a sting to her pride. Shameful. Doubly shameful, because she hates that she should still feel beholden in the heart to her master's approval.

Yet this is so. The habits of a lifetime are not easily discarded, even in death.

Muse slips through the door a touch too fast, as if just slowing down from a run, or about to break into one - or about to strike. Something in her manner brings to mind a striking serpent, even when she doesn't mean to threaten. Her eyes flicker about: Black Heron, the ambassador and her dog. Two empty chairs. The First and Forsaken Lion is conspicuously absent. Her lips part in a quick delighted smile, and she bows to the Deathlord, deeply but a touch too fast for proper manners. (For once it's not a deliberate slight. She has trouble with that these days; finds herself moving either too fast or too slow, never just right.)

"Highness," she says, schooling her voice to smoothness. "A pleasure to wait upon you always. How might I serve?"

[Aevylmar]

"A pleasure, Muse. By a kidnapping, preferably."

The Black Heron bids her rise, and sit, with a gesture.

"We should have one more arriving shortly, but it seems my message may have found him at a poor time. Nevertheless, let us begin."

She waves a hand in the direction of the map.

"An... event has recently occurred that could throw the Lion's plans into ruin. Should this occur, the results may be disastrous for the entire Underworld, and not simply for him."

She steeples her fingers, looking oddly cute for an elder ghost plotting the annihilation of all reality.

"In one of the petty satrapies along the Inland Sea, a new Lawgiver of the Eclipse Caste has exalted. Accompanied by a small number of mortal allies, he is fleeing south down the Diamond Road towards Gem, trailing Immaculate monks. If he should reach Gem, it may survive. This cannot be permitted."

Her eyes narrow.

"We would prefer it if he was taken alive, but his death would suffice. So long as he never reaches Gem, we would be satisfied." Is she using the Royal We, or speaking for the First and Forsaken Lion as well as herself?

"Our last report is that he has stopped in the oasis town of... Pitchwater... to settle a quarrel between three gods over which of them rightfully holds the city. It may occupy him for a few days, and we do not expect the Wyld Hunt to catch up to him for at least a week, but fast travel is nonetheless essential."

"Ebony Crane. You are commanding this expedition. A Daybreak necroengineer by the name of Harvester in Decay and Dissolution should be joining us shortly, as the fourth and final member of your team. What will you require, and when can you and your allies depart?"

[Inspector Valin]

Crane nodded slowly at the Princess' final question, looking down to the map, trying to find 'Pitchwater' on the Diamond Road, along with any additional nearby factors that might be of note. Still, the meeting could not afford for her to spend the entirety of the time with her nose in a map. Smiling politely, the Ambassador met Princess Maginificent's gaze once again, shaking her head. "I do not think we will require excessive preparation, mi'lady. Transport is the most immediate concern, given the time requirements of this assignment. I would request some means of swift relocation for a small group, preferably one capable of operating within Creation for an extended period of time without a maintenance team. If Harvest has any such thing at his direct disposal, that will prove most convenient."

The more formal request done with, the Midnight leaned back a little in her chair, closing her eyes as she pondered the young Eclipse that was to be their quarry. "With an unknown, newly Exalted Lawgiver, operating some distance from our own territory, the cleanest approach would seem to be a little... misleading diplomacy." Grinning a slightly vicious grin, Crane placed a finger upon the map at the point where Pitchwater lay. "A lot depends on what allies he has made, and what council they have been able to give him. But I feel that persuading the Eclipse that Merciless is his safest haven from the Immaculate Order is our firmest route; which still maintains some degree of flexibility should events not play out as we intend."

The former Harbourheadite chuckled a little to herself. "It is even true, to some extent. Remote or no, Gem remains an ally of the Realm. A status our little Fortress Home does not share."

Crane's eyes lingered on the map, her fingers twitching across it from point to point as she pondered various possible factors. How far the little oasis town was from the Lap, from Gem proper... and of course, from the nearest Shadowland. The Midnight spoke without looking up, half her mind still considering the diplomatic side of this mission. "We will likely need to work to establish trust with our new young friend before he will consent to return to Merciless with us. Removing or discrediting his existing followers: perhaps co-opting nearby barbarians to launch raids upon the settlement, should prove ideal. Standing alongside him against the Immaculate Monks once they catch up with him could provide a turning point, and the aftermath of that confrontation will likely leave him with fewer allies should he still prove uncooperative."

The Abyssal Ambassador looked up, eyes shifting between the Princess for a second, before turning to Mues and Sky. "If possible, could we delay him further? Sabotage the talks between the three gods, ensure the negotiations take longer? Given how long it may take us to get there, that could prove essential to give the rather slow Immaculates time to catch up with him sooner rather than later."

[Ascension]

At the direct question, Sky speaks for the first time since entering the meeting room. Her voice is small and quiet, but it does not waver.

"I have very seldom dealt with gods," she admits, with no sign of embarrassment at that fact, "but even if they are not themselves like men, they will have followers they listen to. Dedicated priests, or leaders of the community who hold sway over their worshippers."

She idly taps two fingers on the conference table, a nervous gesture semi-consciously intended to draw attention away from a more worrisome habit: the way her tongue glides over the fangs that fill her mouth as her thinking grows predatory.

"I know I can use them, at the very least. The exact hows and whys depend on who they are, and what their conflict with the other gods' supporters is, but... we can ruin his work, even if he is a Lawgiver"

[Aevylmar]

"Pitchwater" is a tiny blue dot in a circle of green, just on the western edge of the Diamond Road. The road runs past it, but no town or city is marked on the map - only an oasis.

The Princess Magnificent leans back and lets her minions - well, the Lion's minions, but they're her minions right now - scheme, responding to Crane's request for transport with a polite nod. She knows that the Lion has faith in them, and he is not such a mean judge of ability that odds of four against one will not go in the favor of the four...

[Inspector Valin]

Crane nodded, smiling across to her mate. It was good to hear Sky speaking directly, and in support of her own capabilities too. Her spirits buoyed a little, she continued. "Excellent. We must be careful not to demotivate him too much, but a little careful provocation will hopefully spin things out.The less time he has in advance of the Immaculates, the more likely he will be to accept our offer, even if combat doesn't happen."

The Midnight in turn tapped the edge of the map gently, pressing the corner down and letting it rise again as she explained her thoughts. "Most remaining questions depend on who our Lawgiver is, and what kind of people he has surrounded himself with. Even purely mortal allies could be irritating, given that we will likely be working with minimal back up of our own. Our first action should probably be further reconnaissance, either overt or covert."

The Abyssal Ambassador grinned across to Muse, inviting comment from the Day Caste before continuing. This was her area as much as Crane's, after all. She'd like to see all of them agreed before committing to leave immediately, though she saw few problems or requirements for this assignment. A single Lawgiver with few to no supernatural allies, and likely no past experience in dealing with the forces of Oblivion. This should provide a nice balance. Challenging enough to stretch them, without overwhelming the planned quartet.

[industrious]

Harvest

His approach is easy to detect. A slow and steady rhythm of taps precedes his steps; Harvest walks slowly and with great care. Across his arms is draped a piece of pale leather; his right hand holds a bone needle, which he dips into a small pouch belted to his waist. Black liquid hovers at the point of the needle as he inks the leather in a faint, nearly invisible pattern.

"Apologies for the delay," he murmurs. "There was an incident with a nemissary. It is...contained, now."

[Aevylmar]

The Princess Magnificent waves him in, and the door closes behind him.

"Enter."

She quickly summarizes the briefing she gave the other three, and then waits for further responses.

[Ascension]

Harvest's entrance draws Sky's attention for a moment, but she quickly averts her eyes, in a manner she hopes will be seen as mere deference rather than insult, though insult it is. She does not like that man, or most of the Lion's savants. She accepts (most of?) the grislier aspects of her duty, and recognizes the utility of corpse-armies in advancing the cause of Oblivion, but that doesn't mean she has to be comfortable with the sort of people who construct bone snakes and flesh armor like they're works of art, or who (un)live amidst the moans of ghosts being hammered into soulsteel. And that's not to mention Harvest's particular proclivities, and the whispered rumors she's heard about his "Orphanarium"...

In her studious avoidance of Harvest's gaze, Sky directs her attention to the table, and since she moved closer to Crane and the map her eyes end up lost not in the dark wood grain of the formidable hunk of furniture, but the contours of terrain, the winding path of the Diamond Road, the crop of glyphs and symbols crowding around the label "Pitchwater." At first her vision simply glazes over the riot of information, but some subtle sense of wrongness catches her attention. Intuition quickly crystallizes into surety, her mind moving more like it does in the midst of murder than in the midst of reading.

"This... isn't right," she says slowly, her voice even softer than usual. Neither geography nor geomancy is a topic she generally claims any familiarity with, and she's not been directly asked to comment on the map, but it isn't right, and she needs to communicate that somehow. Still, hesitancy grips her, turning her warning into barely more than a whisper.

"I don't know deserts like I know cities, but I... do know deserts. The Silver Pact is... not a kind teacher."

She shakes her head, both shaking away the memories of the past and the impossibilities of the present.

"It's too big. The Pitchwater oasis is too big. Too wet. It's like..."

She looks up very suddenly toward Crane, trying to catch the other woman's eyes, knowing that her mate will trust her even if no one else will.

"It's magic. That much water in one spot in the middle of the desert... it's got to be some kind of magic."

[Inspector Valin]

Crane nodded politely to Harvest as he entered. The man's expertise were noteworthy, and by all accounts he was a rising star amidst the necrotechnicians. She'd had less exposure to their handiwork than most inhabitants of Merciless, but understood the basic principles well enough. The Daybreak was a good choice for the mission, and she was honestly thankful he was here. The Ambassador turned away briefly, as the Princess brought their final member up to speed on the assignment, affording her fellow Abyssal the courtesy of ignoring the man's tardiness in arrival.

In doing so, she was looking towards Sky when she spoke. Following the Lunar's gaze, Crane slowly nodded: geomancy was far from her area, but Sky was more seasoned. More experienced, and had travelled the South as a whole far more than she. The Abyssal smiled to her mate, before looking down at the map once again herself. "Intriguing. And worthy of note. Did the gods provide the Oasis to the people they now fight over? Or is it the Oasis that is the true prize for the three of them?"

Crane let the thought sit with the group, smiling one final affirming smile at her Mate as she did so. Skyhad applied herself and helped them. That was worth a lot. That done, however, she turned back to their new arrival. "Regardless, I feel we primarily need to focus on the journey. The sooner we are there, the sooner we can get to work. Master Harvest, do you have any ideas on that point? How best to move a small group to Pitchwater quickly?"

[The_Snark]

Muse slips neatly into the seat at the Princess's right, placing her shoes on the table in front of her and lacing her hands together almost daintily. Her fingers twitch as she listens to the briefing; she stills them. Can't still her heartbeat, though, jangling like garden chimes in the wind. Focus on the task given. A kidnapping or a murder, lovely. Dangerous target, but also young, isolated, inexperienced. (They hope.) Not the most interesting challenge from a professional standpoint, but it promises to be entertaining.

"You like to talk, Crane," she murmurs at last. "But he's an Eclipse. He'll like talking too. Strength against strength." Her face never changes, but something in the set of her eyes conveys distaste. "Better to look for weakness."

"We won't know how best to strike until we get there. Maybe he looks ready to listen to you. Maybe not. Then we kill him instead, or drag him back here to be broken." Muse shrugs, pretending indifference, but it does matter to her. This trip will be terribly boring if the Midnight Caste can persuade him to come to Merciless just by asking.

She transfers her gaze to the Deathlord. "Do we know anything more of him? His name, his heritage? How he was chosen?"

[Aevylmar]

The Princess Magnificent looks at Muse, raises an eyebrow. "His name is Kherl Sihi. He was a magistrate for the local government - background in the oligarchy - and was charged with sorting out a conflict between the Immaculates and the local god-worshippers, and did so. Successfully. Tragically, this was without any deaths whatsoever," she adds, irony dripping from her words. "At least until he Exalted. The Immaculates paused to purge his friends before chasing him, though, regrettably, they salted the shadowland before moving on."

[industrious]

Harvest

Harvest remains silent as other discuss options and request information, the steady tapping of the tattoo needle the only noise the man makes.

At the sound of his name, though...

"I have been working on a few necromantic beasts that might suffice to bring us to Pitchwater. But it will need to be a small group. Less than ten."

[Inspector Valin]

Crane grinned wide at Harvest's words, nodding emphatically. That number of people was more than she had hoped for. "Ideal. Enough for a highly adaptive response." She glanced between Muse and Sky, before looking back to Harvest. "If none of you have a specific personage in mind, I have six courtiers who would be useful, and could stand with us in a fight. Two of them I would like to take regardless, the other four are simply useful additions."

The hypothesis running through her head, the Midnight Ambassador was silent for a moment before remembering what her Night Caste ally had said. She turned to her fellow Exalt with a grin. "Also, rest assured, Muse, I'll pull my weight if this comes to a fight. I was a warrior in life, I remain one now. But Harvest has highlighted a point through the issue of transport, that makes me reluctant to say jumping down and attacking is exciting to me."

Drawing the map back with a sweep of the arm, Crane pointed to the position of Pitchwater with the other hand before starting to run her finger across the surrounding area, point by point as she explained. "We can't move forces into position easily. Too far from a Shadowland, fast transport is designed for a small group. Essentially, it will be us alone against him, plus perhaps a small group of Ghostly allies. But Master Siri has likely made a large number of allies in Pitchwater through his attempt to bring peace to the town, in addition to any mortals who have followed him on his exodus. Between binding oaths, and simple honeyed words, there're likely going to be many mortals willing to stand between us and him"

The ambassador endeavoured not to look at their Leige as she made the final point, both from respect and fear. This was not worth dwelling on, but it was worth noting. "And an attack from the Underworld would be just the thing to unify three local warring gods. With them united, their followers will almost certianly follow suite"

Point made, Crane leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes, mind settling into contemplation as she continued. "We could take little Kherl if it came to blades, without a doubt. One man against four. But the entire settlement of Pitchwater, plus three powerful gods surrounded by worshippers, all enhanced by the charms of a Lawgiver?"

The ashen skinned ambassador opened her eyes, smiling at Muse, chuckling to herself a little at the prospect. "That fight looks... even. We will see once we are there what the best option is, but you'll forgive me if I'm less than eager at the prospect."

[The_Snark]

Muse raises her eyebrows, vaguely insulted by the idea that she would suggest a frontal assault. Does the Midnight think her stupid? Or is 'charge at the enemy' the extent of the strategies Crane learned in her old life as a warrior? There are tribes that think that way, fighting for honor and glory rather than fighting to win. Say what you like about Muse's family, they had that priority straight.

"Of course we will not attack the town openly," she says politely. The tone is polite, anyway. "That would be a fool's gambit. There are better ways. Wait until he leaves Pitchwater and ambush him on the road. Poison. Knives in the night." Really, there are a thousand ways to kill him, if you only have a little imagination.

She turns her head to look at Harvest instead. "How fast can your creatures carry us there?"

[Ascension]

A shadow crosses Sky's face. Muse may still be maintaining a polite facade, but the word "fool" coming anywhere close to Crane is reason enough to raise her hackles.

"There are more knives than the knives that spill blood. Sharp words to pierce the mind, to carve the meat from the bones of Sihi's little alliance. He is far more valuable to us if we flense away all his support until he clings to us. And then our lords will cut away the light of his sun, and we will own his shadow."

She shrugs, a languorous roll of her shoulders.

"Of course we'll end his life if we must, and of course we can. But..."

She decides to concede a small point, for her time with Crane has taught Sky something of diplomacy.

"...both of you are right. We should not fight his allies, not with steel and silver."

[The_Snark]

Oh, does the dog have a bark after all? Fascinating. Muse listens, her face masklike, then turns her gaze back to Harvest without acknowledging the Lunar's words. Either a deliberate slight, or she simply has nothing further to say.

[industrious]

Harvest

The deathknight's eyes wander between Crane, Sky and Muse during their exchange, an eyebrow raised as he takes in their argument.

"They are as yet untested. But the mounts should be swift enough to take us to Pitchwater in a day without need for rest."

[Inspector Valin]

Crane raised an eyebrow: that travel time seemed... too good to be true. She did not trust such reports any longer. But it was Harvest's area, and he had no reason to see the mission fail. For now, best to assume the necrosurgeon was correct. She nodded, smiling to the Daybreak. "That should be ideal. Thank you, Master Harvest"

The ashen skinned Abyssal turned her gaze about the rest of the quartet, smile firm and seemingly ignoring the tone that'd passed between Muse and Sky. "If none of us have further comments or suggestions, shall we make ready to leave at once? Time is an issue, after all, and I see little reason to delay"

[Aevylmar]

"Fascinating," The Princess Magnificent whispers, and then rises.

She waves a hand. "It seems this discussion is at an end. Collect what you will need and be on your way."

She pauses.

"Crane. Understand that you are commanding this mission. I hope you will not disappoint... our master."

[Inspector Valin]

Crane bowed her head, smile faded to a more sedate positive expression. This was something she'd been thinking about since the Princess had placed her in command of the impromptu task force. It was somewhat intimidating: she'd been trained to lead in some ways, but had little honest experience of it. Sky would follow her, but Harvest and Muse were fellow Abyssals. They would likely have their own ideas, and the Exalted tended to be.... individualistic

Still, Crane knew better than to demean them for that. Managing the group was her task, for her to succeed or fail at, and that included balancing the preferences of all four Exalts. She met the Princess' gaze as she replied, voice calm and for once completely serious. "Understood, mi'lady. This is my first assignment of such importance. I will endeavour not to disappoint anyone." A touch more of a sparkle came into the Ambassador's eye as she gestured around her. "And we have more than enough skilled hands and sharp minds here for such a task. Whatever Kherl Sihi is doing in Pitchwater shall be his last action of note in Creation, this I swear."

[industrious]

Harvest

The Deathknight merely nods and bows and prepares to take his leave. Internally, his mind begins to make a checklist; leaving the Underworld requires certain preparations.

Visit the Orphanarium, check on Mother, tighten up armor with those new sinews that just came in...

[Aevylmar]

Later (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZBqz2jrT8n0)

Personal tasks complete, the small force assembled in one of the First and Forsaken Lion's military hangars. It was a little enough force; Ebony Crane, with her two companions and her new gorget. Sky, alone, with the single name tucked into her mind of the Lion's single agent by the oasis. The Muse, accompanied by a handful of assigned ghostly bodyguards, just in case she needed any help breaking legs.

And the last; the Harvester in Dissolution and Decay and that one wonderful craft. Made in the First Age of the most precious materials known, conducting wires from the hair of elder gods, impervious carapace of mountain's-heart bronze and refined jade and empowered by living lightning.

Today it is plated with soulsteel. The wires broke, and they were replaced with sinew. The lightning failed, and its ghost was again bound to serve, and as it needed more and more repairs, it was, more and more, sent to the Harvester for his brand of medicine.

Four Exalts, seven ghosts, and a dying airship, assembled together. Such was what a Solar's life was worth.

[Ascension]

Sky's mind wars with itself, her instinctual awe at the sight of the Conquest Platform, even broken as it is, battling against the knowledge of what it represents. It is a palpable manifestation of the Harvester's favor with the Lion, of the necrosurgeon's value in the Deathlord's eyes. Crane commands this mission, and that glory should be hers.

She looks to her mistress's ghostly companions to reassure herself. While Harvest might provide the machine (by the leave of the lord of the Thousand), Crane guides the hand that will pilot it (by the power of her own majesty). And in any case, the Lion will know her worth when Ebony Crane brings back Kherl Sihi trussed up for slaughter by his own hand.

That is the only possible outcome, of course. Sky is prepared to give everything to ensure it. The silver grin of Smiling Butcher flashes in and out of visibility in her hands.

[industrious]

Harvest

"Shhh...shhh..." the deathknight croons, a loving hand gently stroking an exposed sinew.

"I know it hurt...but you're feeling better now, right? You're going to fly, to soar, and be strong, girl...we're all counting on you."

Sometimes the old platform got sulky. He tries to make her sing again, and he succeeds, but it gets a little harder each time. But he was getting better each time too...

[Inspector Valin]

Crane placed a hand to the gorget as she stepped forward, still unused to the device that glimmered at her neck. Still, she was sure enough in her request, and the faded gold complimented her dress of black and silver nicely. The ambassador smiled as she saw Sky, ready and willing. Together, we will see this done. She stepped forward, two all too familiar figures at her side, looking first at the gathering assemblage, and then up at the airship. An old, weathered thing made strong once again by Harvest's work.

She grinned to herself, looking up at the mighty vessel. Their odds were good, and this mission would go well. She was sure of it..

Crane coughed, nodding to Jiao and Yana Wa, before turning to her fellow Exalts, smile wide. "So. Are we ready?"

[Ascension]

At her mistress's words Sky tucks away Smiling Butcher's grin one last time and produces her own toothy smile instead. Her bow is fairly quick, but both she and Crane understand her obeisance beyond the need for such gestures, and she doesn't wish to seem weak in the eyes of Muse or Harvest.

"Of course."

[Aevylmar]

The ten passengers took off in the cloaked landing craft as it sped silently towards Pitchwater. Soundless and swift, an invisible ripple in Creation’s essence currents speeds out of the Underworld, out of a strategic shadowland, over the desert and over the mountains. Hours passed, and the moon sank below the hills and the sun rose, and then more hours passed as the ship continued flying. Finally they saw it - the Diamond Road in the sun through the desert, and then a town growing up around an oasis, by the side of the Diamond Road.

There is an oasis at the heart of it, yes, and perhaps most of the buildings are tents and yurts and lean-tos instead of permanent structures, but they seem reasonably stable. There are only three permanent structures; a pair of fairly plain stone buildings that try to fit the appropriate Old Realm ziggurat-temple look, but on a budget, and -

There’s a tower over the night-black waters of the oasis. That might be the most notable part of the town, really. It looks more like a fountain than a building; a spire stretching upwards for perhaps ten or twenty meters, flowing up from the water, black as the night sky. Four graceful pillars bend into the earth at an angle and keep it standing tall; it reaches up into elegant crenelations pointing in the four directions. It seems to ooze the supernatural, towering over the little stone temples and all the one-story yurts the way the peaks of the Thousand tower over the desert sands below. All around it are lush gardens, fruit trees, date palms, all in constant flower.

The town is busy enough; bustling, even, though it is a new bustle, and still a small one compared to the endless bustling of Gem or Chiaroscuro or especially great Nexus, but a bustle it certainly is.

There’s no sign of a glowing man with the sun on his forehead covered in artifacts anywhere, but absence of evidence is not evidence of absence.

[Inspector Valin]

Crane's eyes widened just a little at the sight of the manse spread across the oasis' waters. This had been a possibility, but it was still a site to witness... and a potentially worrying one. "The gods have been busy. And if they have the influence to create a manse, they are not minor place spirits. How powerful they truly are is another question, but they are worthy of note, and we will be walking on their home ground."

The thought did not excite the Midnight overmuch. She appreciated a battle, but here, she felt a touch too in the dark. Three gods and a Solar, plus a manse of unknown construction to content with. "Harvest. You, me and the Court shall present ourselves at the manse. We are worthy dignitaries come to meet with renowned diplomat Kherl Sihi." Grinning a touch, Crane pointed through the viewscreen towards the majestic palace "If you will, study the mane and it's owners. Any insight you could provide would be useful if we need to... work covertly within the place, shall we say?"

The Harborheadite chuckled a little, before turning to the other two members of their expedition. "Muse, Sky, the city is yours. Be discrete. Find out whatever you will of Pitchwalter, the folk, its gods. We know little of them or their situation, and anything could be of value."

The Abyssal Ambassador gestured towards the ramp that would take them down. Jiao had landed the conquest platform some distance from the walls, and its stealth field remained active, thanks to her Hearthstone. They'd have a short walk ahead of them, but nothing too major. "We can meet here again after sundown to plan further, and adapt our tactics as need be. Agreed?"

Sorry, gang, hit some rather bad writers block. I'll try and write a better quality post next time, but at least the dialogue flowed fairly well.

[The_Snark]

Muse bows her head in assent, but makes no move towards the ramp. If they are to pass unnoticed they must arrive separately. Best to give Crane a head start.

She waits until the Midnight and her entourage have passed out of earshot before speaking, addressing Sky without looking at her. "Perhaps we will begin our investigations within shouting distance of the manse. Your owner has chosen to present herself as a worthy dignitary from the lands of the unwholesome dead. It would be wise to remain close, in case they receive her with spears and arrows rather than open arms."

[Ascension]

Muse's words spark twinned and opposing reactions in Sky; both a worry for Crane's safety and an indignance toward Muse's continued doubt of her mistress's competence.

"You underestimate her," she says, in a warning tone, "but your suggestion is... good enough. We can learn from how these people react to her, how, as a crowd, they respond."

She furrows her brow, trying to think back over the intelligence on the city, and the view they'd had from the air.

"What shape to wear..."

[industrious]

Harvest

The Abyssal stares unblinking at the palace before them. He examines, almost unconsciously, the materials used for it. Matter and form were the most important of causes, after all; the final cause could be deduced from the two, but not the two from the one. Not always.

"The local populace may fear us," he whispers. "Merely for what we are."

[Aevylmar]

Through the city walked a dog and an invisible woman, just ahead of the passangers of the transport. Well, a woman no-one noticed. There were people who stepped aside, without knowing quite why, people who looked slightly aside so they would not see and stare, people who simply looked away.

There were three things of note, in this strange town around Pitchwater. The first was just how little poverty there was. The Lion had no beggars in the great fortress of Merciless, though it was larger than some cities. But there were no beggars around Pitchwater because the fruit hung from the trees, and whosoever wished might pick it.

Three bazaars there were in the city, and men and some women - robed and hooded and veiled against the cold - stood around and haggled over cloth or meat or pottery, all comfortably mundanely. Three temples were there in the city, the two little stone buildings and the great tower, and there was no wooden houses because there was little wood for it and no other stone houses. There was the sense of heavenly impermanence; that all this was new, and it could all be gone in a moment.

And then the third thing were the sashes. Simple strips of cloth; normally worn wrapped around the arm as a band or around the waist as a sash, striped in pale, cheaply-died or naturally-tinted colors. A great many wore plain gold, or else red and black ran second, and then far smaller in numbers were those who wore brown and silver or grey and blue. They seemed to be markers of tribe or clan or other group; golds might go with any of the other three, but no red-and-black would speak with a grey-and-blue unless it was to trade, and the haggling would be more venomous or colder or both.

As usual, ask if there's anything else you'd like to know...

[The_Snark]

Muse is a creature of cities. For all that she loathes the company of others, her upbringing and way of life has made her accustomed to it. It is said that wherever more than two people gather, one will hire another to kill the third - but this requires an absolute minimum of three people. There's simply no place for an assassin in the wilderness. The trackless empty wastes of the Deep South are foreign and slightly intimidating to her, an enemy she cannot kill or outwit, only avoid.

The little tribes and settlements that dot the southern deserts are only a little less alien. Even so, Muse is fairly certain that Pitchwater is unusual. Food and water aren't easy to come by in the desert. They're valuable. They are protected, not given away for free. But here the orchards are open, and no fee is charged to drink from the oasis. Very unusual. It speaks of immense wealth - in the form of water and fresh fruit rather than jade and silver, but wealth nonetheless; in the deep desert these things are more precious than any metal - enough that its owners are willing to share with all comers. And it speaks of power, because if they didn't have power they would have lost it to someone who did. Muse finds herself suspicious of this improbable generosity. Most likely the work of the three gods, she decides, looking to attract devotion and build a following. The Solar hasn't been here long enough to effect that sort of change.

The coldness - marked out clearly by differences in dress - is far more familiar. She's always had an eye for weakness, seeing the exact spot to drive the knife home. So. Three groups feuding, plus one neutral? Then the gods' disputes have spilled out into the populace. Good. That neutral color is worrying, though. Gold. Is that Kherl Sihi's influence? His followers?

Nothing to do but hover near the tower and watch, for now. Soon Crane and the others will find their way here, to introduce themselves; not long after that the magic keeping her half-a-step beyond the world will fade. Until then she waits in the shadow of the tower, her eyes narrowed against the sun's glare.

Mostly just hanging around until Crane and Harvester make their entrance, as outlined before. In the meantime, though, she'll check out the tower from a distance. Note that Muse has Essence sight, and can see wards and other active magic things, though she doesn't get the analyzing effect of All-Encompassing Sorcerer's Sight.

She'll also glance over the people, with an eye towards determining how common foreigners are. Besides the sashes, are there obvious differences in ethnicity, or do they all look pretty homogenous? Are there caravans around, or herds of horses/camels/austretches/other pack animals? How much of this is a waypoint/market, and how much is permanent (or semipermanent) residence?

[Ascension]

While Muse drifts among the crowd as a non-presence, a sense of emptiness carried on the breeze, Sky lopes across the sand in the form of a dusty, weather-worn dog. It's a shape that would draw little notice in most cities, but here amid Pitchwater's abundance her lean form and drawn ribs stand out at a contrast. Even a homeless hound seems unlikely to go hungry in these streets. But how could she have known any differently? Witnessing the true prosperity of Pitchwater at ground level is something no briefing and no aerial view could have prepared her for.

It is, to be quite frank, an impossibility. She has seen the wealth of the South's greatest cities. She saw it in her youth, in the city-states of Varangia; she saw it in her service to Tamuz, in the Chiaroscuro he forged; she even saw a form of it in the Lap, nourished under the Realm's guidance and for the Realm's benefit. None of them possessed resources like this. And yet Pitchwater is small... growing, certainly, but small. Only its newness, she is sure, has spared it from being consumed, conquered and bloodied and used up. That must be it, right? No such city... no such town, if she's being truthful... could possibly stand for long against the decay of the Void, even without the intervention of her mistress's kind.

There is some order here, though, a definition she finds familiar and comforting despite the oasis town's exotic luxury. She sees the castes, and senses some of their workings. The grey-and-blues, the despised, they must be the menial laborers, yes? The red-and-blacks remind her of her own colors, the butcher-mark, and such people would be more valued here where fruit and vegetable cost nothing, would they not, as the masters of the only food of any value? There are too few marked with brown and silver to guess at their specific role, but there is room for whatever their function may be... the only piece out of place are the golds, freely mixing with all. Her first thought is that they must be negotiators of some sort, but there are so many! Not even a city with Pitchwater's resources could support so many diplomats, and the golds don't dominate its trade.

She is tempted to wander closer to the people, to listen to the way they speak to each other, perhaps even to try to follow them to their businesses or to their homes to see the way each caste lives... and that might even be true to her duty here, but she has a higher call, her highest duty, her bond of service to Ebony Crane.

And so, while she does watch, and she does listen, she does not stray, merely circling the fringe of the very heart of the city, waiting for her mistress's debut.

[Inspector Valin]

Crane nodded at Harvest's words, it made sense. The Underworld and it's chosen had never exactly seemed inviting by the standards of Creation. She looked out towards the oasis and the likely home of Pitchwater's Gods as she gave her thoughts aloud. "They know the Immaculates are coming. They don't have a fortification beyond the tower, and that is not overly impressive in such a context. They likely need us, or will believe they can use us against their own foes."

The Midnight looked to Harvest, and the engineer could see a grin on her face. "That is enough."

Crane closed her eyes for a second, thinking, before gesturing towards the window. "Your thoughts on the Tower? A likely Manse, correct? Can you tell more from here? Or should that wait until later?"

Saving OP

Crane spared the surroundings the occasional glance, curious herself about the situation within this strange, strange settlement. She had not anticipated any of this from the briefing; evidently, the three gods had not been idle since the map was written. The bazaars remained perhaps the most normal element of this place, people talking and trading with one another. So many tents and yerts seemingly set in place, however, was something that still caused side-glances from the Midnight Ambassador

These people settled here without time to plan. Their gods provided them with the power of the oasis, and there is little need... but they've grown dependant on it, and on them. Encapsulates mortal-divine relations rather nicely, doesn't it?

The presence of the bands was something to note. Stratification. Some people were worth talking to, some were not. That in some ways made Crane more uneasy than the presence of gods. Low ranking divinities tended to be poorly educated outside of their area of expertise, but a situation where the humans could potentially grow this hostile to one another?

Still, best to see how they react. To be sure where she stood as a diplomat. With the worship of the gods on such open display, this place had more than a little to fear from the Immaculates even before their new Solar arrived. She continued down the street, towards the great tower, path unabated but weapon at her back. It was time to test the waters, one way or another.

[industrious]

Harvest

"A manse, yes."

A crook of two fingers, and he measures the Lunar's neck by sight and reference alone. No need to lay a hand on Sky's pet. But a collar would be just the thing for the creature...

"New and made without craftman's hands. It's an abomination, that way...you have to feel your creation under your hands to know it truly. You and your work become One as you build it, taking form under your fingers..."

Harvest's fingers are long and thin and calloused, pock-marked with pinprick scars from slipped needlework, stained with dry ink and corroded blood and fouler reagents. They smell of embalming fluid and his fingerprints have long since faded.

"This oasis...it's not natural. The Tower forces it into being, and whoever formed the Tower has power enough to force it upon the World. Fortification? they have the desert, and they have the oasis. What army can attack without water?"

He laughs, then, and runs his tongue over lips gone dry and cracked in the height.

"No living force..."

[Inspector Valin]

The ambassador hadn't expected that summation. She hummed. "They made this place?"

The ashen skinned Midnight frowned, looking away from Harvest and her attendants towards the sloping graceful tower. She speaks slowly, thinking the situation through "The Immaculate Order do not like local gods ruling the humans. They'll attempt to take control when they come here, an Anathema taking refuge adding fuel to the fire. Giving the Realm such control over this place turns it into a supply point in all but name.

"And were Gem to come under visible threat, re-enforcements would likely be sent via the Diamond Road. If this place was destroyed, it would strain their supplies that one step further."

Crane turned back to Harvest, smiling a pearl-white grin: incisors flashing. Two deaths, with a single stroke. She gestured out towards the manse, asking a simple question.

"How would you destroy it?"

[industrious]

Harvest

"Destroy it?"

Tactics. Strategies. The tug and fogs of war. Boring. Give Harvest a body - or enough of one, and he'd create a masterpiece. Give him a fang of soldiers, and he'd make a five.

The difficulties that had happened when Harvest had been given a fang of soldiers instead of a score of corpses had been very distracting. They seemed willing at the time...

"...How much of the surrounding area do you want to level? Destroying a manse has...consequences."

Harvest gestures vaguely with his hands.

"Dragon lines funnel Essence towards a manse; the structure regulates the flow. Destroy the manse, and that Essence has to go somewhere. Usually."

[Inspector Valin]

Crane looked out again, across the Pitchwater skyline. A city of tents and fabric, blowing in the wind. Three tribes united to create this place, honouring them all. An old tale, echoing across Fate. Not large, but still filled to the brim with people, and with life. The destruction such an explosion would create...

She shook her head, smile fading, but remaining fixed in place. "Immaterial. This place is of no use to anyone without the manse, and oasis." She turned back to Harvest, shaking her head. "If the bodies left are recoverable for your work, levelling the settlement has no negative consequences of note. And the destruction would leave few traces of just what happened here in its wake."

The Midnight taps her fingers against her forehead, thinking through the possibilities. How the situation might play out once they reach the tower. "We will likely not need to do it. But if it were possible, I'd like to know how hard or easy it would be, and the best method. Such knowledge could not hinder our efforts."

[Aevylmar]

Inside the Town

The Tower gleams to Muse's supernaturally-enhanced vision, glowing with the five colors of the elements. Water dominates, of course; she can see it in the flowing lines and the twisting shape, the tower itself like a waterspout, rising up, but each of the others has their place.

She can see a few other scattered essence-lights in the crowd, all faint. Petty gods, no doubt, or god-bloods. To her regular sight, most of them are either invisible - dematerialized - or look to the mortal eye as ordinary humans.

Strangely, none of them are wearing gold.

- - -

Even with her waiting for Muse's arrival, Sky can still hear the conversations of the people of Pitchwater. For the most part, they are the common words of the marketplace, but she can hear a quarrel growing more and more venomous - one woman in red-and-black is berating a man in blue-and-grey."

"You can't possibly - I can't believe you betrayed me! You were my brother! How could you possibly support that false god?"

"This is all his by right! I don't know how you can just live off of his kindness and generosity, and not want to join him! If you can't stand the blue, at least put on the gold!"

A third - female, armed, also wearing blue-and-grey, drifts up, her feet not quite seeming to touch the ground.

"Is there a problem?" she asks quietly.

The woman in red and black stomps off, and the new arrival sighs, her eyes unfocusing for a moment before refocusing with an inhuman clarity. "Sihi will sort her out," she whispers. "He's around somewhere - he'll have heard it."

[Ascension]

Sky's ears perk up. 'False god'... So the colors mark the town's factions, not castes. She coughs up a dismissive bark, growling a little at the backwardness on display. She never went so far as to suspect true civilization from Pitchwater, but briefly she had hoped for better than this. Perhaps the Lion's contact will be able to explain more, what stances the different clothes represent. Perhaps Crane will draw explanations off the locals' tongues. The truth will out, in its due time.