Return of the Scarlet Empress III - The Lookshy War

[Maugan Ra]

"Most of the negotiation so far has been framed around that idea, yes." Zhou says to Braga, nodding. "Or, to be more specific... The General intends to lead her forces against the Mask, and in defense of Lookshy. Currently, we are trying to work out how to make sure she does it in a way that Lookshy is willing to accept that help. Such as by not making it a choice between her or the Realm."

He shrugs. "That's the pragmatic reason she shouldn't start murdering Cleansing agents on sight, anyway. There are several moral and idealistic ones as well, but I'm not sure a recent widow with her own army is prepared to hear many of those. Right now, I'll be happy with an outcome that doesn't lead to the defensive alliance imploding the moment it's constituent parts get near one another."

[Inspector Valin]

The mention of Tepet Xet's brief captivity makes Versi's eyes widen. She glances towards Ireva at that, obviously surprised, though the cause of this reaction is unclear. He grip upon Skycutter tightened a little, and the young Lunar took a step closer to Braga. Allegiances aside, this information could only be a sign of doom, and Versi had been seeing doom on the horizon since she woke u this morning. Well, since Braga had explained their situation and she'd started to put the pieces of the past five days together. If something was going to happen, getting the agent of Heaven or whatever out of the way first...

The young Lunar remained silent as Ireva and Zhou continued from that point on, following closely, until the conversation turned to her. Versi blinked a little at that before shaking her head, her amor jangling as the young warrior trying to stand a little taller. "I'm good enough. I'm a little tired, but that doesn't matter. I can get things done." It was a lie, but the young Lunar wasn't going to admit to pain. She was here to help her father, and that was that.

[Ifni]

"Yes, well. We did try to make the point about not discarding potential allies, but it didn't go over very well." Ireva pauses, then lowers her voice and adds, in carefully neutral tones, "It seems... important to the Kazei's pride, to avoid the implication that she or Lookshy might need help. From anyone, including us, albeit especially from the Realm or its agents. She regards any such suggestion as a deliberate insult."

She shrugs, and her voice resumes its normal volume. "We've been in contact with Xet, though. Fire Orchid agreed to let her return and work with us if she swears a binding oath not to harm those loyal to Lookshy, for the duration of the war. I don't know yet if Xet will accept that, but I hope she will."

Another brief smile at Versi. Just a little tired... no, Versi doesn't like showing weakness either. Understandable. "Right. It's good you're feeling better. Shall we see if the Kazei is ready to talk with us?" She tilts her head toward the tent, then pauses. "And, ah... if she uses mind-controlling magic or other forms of mental influence, and you notice, don't make a fuss. I have tools to get rid of it later, and we've already had one rather... heated... exchange on that topic."

[industrious]

Isa

bitch kept interrupting our private time...'she's so charming, Siaka,' gods shut up about her, this is supposed to be for us...

"My first assignment with her," she says abruptly, starting brusquely and with little buildup. "was a seduction. And I did-she was a privateer out West, and after spending a month as crew, I tied her to the mizzenmast on a full moon and well" she shrugs. "She screamed hard enough that we had to deal with the storm mothers after that, and that was quite the battle, let me tell you..."

Siaka's words are rough and quicker than proper for rhetoric or storytelling. They are more authentic for their faults.

"But anyway. I spent two years with her, as crew and later as first mate. I saw her at her best, and her worst - she'd spend days crying in the cabin, scrubbing her hands like they were filthy. Crazy woman. But I loved her even though I shouldn't because she was fun and she knew her way around a belaying pin and she wanted to clean up the West."

"Then I was ordered to kill her. And I had to weigh my feelings, my belief that she was a good person, against what she was. Against what she would, inevitably become. Against millenia of tradition, of duty-to the Bureau, to the Maidens."

"I didn't do it for Chejop. I didn't do it for glory or promotion or prestige. I did it because during one of her fits, one of the crew came to interrupt her, and she beat him until nothing was left but pulp, crying all the while about how he was forcing her to do it. Because for all their greatness, they can't be trusted with their power. So I did it. And I still sleep soundly at night."

[Ascension]

"You've been in contact with Tepet Xet since her escape," Braga echoes, his voice neutral but his mind awhirl.

She stayed within range of Wind-Carried Words, then. Anticipating the contact? Versi did say she saw Xet and the Chuzei's wife speaking privately once...

"Let's hope she's amenable to those terms."

It wouldn't be very diplomatic of her to refuse...

A little thrill of fear creeps up Braga's spine at Ireva's mention of mind-warping magics, the very threat that makes "Anathema" so feared, but, given the powers recently displayed by Bright Shard ("Bright Shard"?) and Ireva's casual mention of binding oaths, it seems rather late to start worrying about that now. In any case, no one can deal with the worthies of the Realm for long without realizing that they are capable of their own subtle magics as well. The integrity of one's thoughts and mind can never be entirely guaranteed in Creation... one of the many arguments in favor of religion.

May my heart stand as firm as Pasiap, as unshakable as the Imperial Mountain... he silently prays.

"I am ready."

[Ifni]

Ireva looks up at the Dragon-Blood, studying him for the space of a slow breath; she barely saw him on the airship, and during and after the fight with the deathknights there was not much time for consideration. Pale skin, stormcloud eyes - the ragged hair detracts a little from the image of a Prince of the Earth, but still the imprint of the airy Essence flowing through his veins is unmistakable. And those eyes are sharp, alert, and she remembers the waters flowing, quenching the Frostwing's fires; it wouldn't do to underestimate this man.

Sesus Braga, Dynast who protected a Lunar child, exiled from the Realm as surely as she, a scholar become soldier of a once-enemy nation. I wonder what the full story is, there... Braga's choice must have been wrenching; in that way perhaps she's had it easier, with the decision taken out of her hands.

And if he flinched when she mentioned mind-controlling magic or binding oaths, he hid it well, and he's handled the knowledge of her nature and the revelation of Shard's with grace.

"Indeed," Ireva answers, the corner of her lips tilting in a small wry half-smile, mingling approval and acknowledgement and encouragement. Yes, you'll do just fine. She turns to the tent-flap and twitches it just slightly aside, not enough to see in but enough for a murmur to be heard: "Kazei, when you're ready, the Chozei and his daughter have arrived."

[Inspector Valin]

The young Lunar blinked at her father's deadpan words "You've been in contact with Tepet Xet since her escape," A simple statement,but in context of her earlier conversation, the meanings of this point were worrying. Versi looked up at Karal Ireva, Solar, trying to gauge anything about their party's diplomat. Of all the group, Ireva was the member Versi understood the least about; she'd survived Thorns, the Chozei loved her, Skandi trusted her closely. The three things were all indicators of trustworthiness, but they were not enough to understand her. And that fact was not helping the Lunar's imagination as she conjured up potential scenarios for this strange and bizarre mission.

Could they both be Abyssals? It would explain why Xet knew the Old Realm tongue as much as her being Heaven-Sent would, Ghosts still speak the old words. At least they might if they're old enough

But why would the Mask of Winters concoct something this elaborate? Ireva could've murdered every member of the party in their sleep by this point. Xet could've killed me on the Frostwing, and she had every excuse...

Shaking herself awake as the potential Abyssal turned to the tent flap to introduce them. No time for questions, or for conferring with Mr. Braga. Instead, Versi took a step forward, gently squeezing her father's arm in a gesture of support, before looking across to the tent flap. She tried very, very hard to focus on her father's presence, and not that of the woman who'd just informed the Chozei of their connection. Whatever happens, so long as I can protect you, we stand together. No matter what

[The_Snark]

Isa listens to the tale in attentive silence. Her expression is sober throughout, but a sharp-eyed observer could read flickers of emotion, ranging from amused I-didn’t-need-that-much-detail at the beginning to grave sympathy in the middle. Only at the end - the moral of the story, so to speak - does she school herself to neutrality, nodding as the Joybringer finishes.

It’s a familiar story; not in any of the particulars, not even the general shape of it, but there are parts that echo her situation. And yet… at first it brings to mind not Ireva but Burning Waters, who’d wanted to clean up Nexus, who she’d so badly wanted to love and trust. But he seems convinced that the Bureau is his enemy, and so do they, and neither one will tell her why...

It’s not the same, of course. Burning Waters is no Solar. The history is different. Still, the clash between love and duty feels uncomfortably familiar.

She puts those thoughts aside; they’re speaking of Ireva, not Burning Waters. No love here, not in any romantic sense at least, but that’s quibbling. She cares about the Eclipse, thinks she's a good person, would grieve if she died. Close enough. Again, there are aspects which echo her own experience: Siaka’s account of her Solar’s madness, in particular, is uncannily reminiscent of Ireva’s confession last night. ... hurt them, mutilate them, strike fear into the heart of anyone who’d ever consider such a thing again... she was terrified of me, and that felt right... But there is one very important difference. After a moment, she decides to voice it.

"I haven't seen any signs of madness in her. I heard about an incident, though. From her." Isa glances sideways to take in Siaka's expression before returning her gaze to the camp. "That's the rub. She'd agree with you about trusting her with that kind of power. She knows what she could become, given time. It frightens her. As it ought to. And she isn't pretending the problem doesn't exist, no matter how much easier that would be. She knows who I am, she knows about my orders, and she accepts that. She doesn't want to die, but..." She trails off, unable to articulate exactly what about this impresses her so. Trust wants to be returned, and Ireva is putting her life in Isa's hands...

"It seems a waste," she concludes, instead, because this is also true.

[industrious]

Isa listens to the tale in attentive silence. Her expression is sober throughout, but a sharp-eyed observer could read flickers of emotion, ranging from amused I-didn’t-need-that-much-detail at the beginning to grave sympathy in the middle. Only at the end - the moral of the story, so to speak - does she school herself to neutrality, nodding as the Joybringer finishes.

It’s a familiar story; not in any of the particulars, not even the general shape of it, but there are parts that echo her situation. And yet… at first it brings to mind not Ireva but Burning Waters, who’d wanted to clean up Nexus, who she’d so badly wanted to love and trust. But he seems convinced that the Bureau is his enemy, and so do they, and neither one will tell her why...

It’s not the same, of course. Burning Waters is no Solar. The history is different. Still, the clash between love and duty feels uncomfortably familiar.

She puts those thoughts aside; they’re speaking of Ireva, not Burning Waters. No love here, not in any romantic sense at least, but that’s quibbling. She cares about the Eclipse, thinks she's a good person, would grieve if she died. Close enough. Again, there are aspects which echo her own experience: Siaka’s account of her Solar’s madness, in particular, is uncannily reminiscent of Ireva’s confession last night. ... hurt them, mutilate them, strike fear into the heart of anyone who’d ever consider such a thing again... she was terrified of me, and that felt right... But there is one very important difference. After a moment, she decides to voice it.

"I haven't seen any signs of madness in her. I heard about an incident, though. From her." Isa glances sideways to take in Siaka's expression before returning her gaze to the camp. "That's the rub. She'd agree with you about trusting her with that kind of power. She knows what she could become, given time. It frightens her. As it ought to. And she isn't pretending the problem doesn't exist, no matter how much easier that would be. She knows who I am, she knows about my orders, and she accepts that. She doesn't want to die, but..." She trails off, unable to articulate exactly what about this impresses her so. Trust wants to be returned, and Ireva is putting her life in Isa's hands...

"It seems a waste," she concludes, instead, because this is also true.

Iron Siaka

"Yeah, well you haven't been with her long. I had time. For better or worse."

Siaka shrugs again.

"And it's good she accepts it. I recommend a solid blow to the back of the head. No warning, no expectation, no need for any emotions or second thoughts. Do it quickly, and get back to Yu-Shan. Mercy for both of you."

She fidgets, twisting her hands together, before she punches Isa lightly on the shoulder.

"Look, I gotta get back to Yu-Shan. Dinner plans."

Fire Orchid

"...and you were facing westward during this exchange, correctly?"

Fire Orchid is very meticulous with her questioning. Skandi then Ireva then Zhou have all gone through her attempt at recreating the fight, as if she were attempting to wring out every scrap of knowledge possible from their memory.

"Thank you, cousin. I believe that is all I need from you. Send in one of the newcomers!"


You're entering one at a time, but this will apply to either of you, so Valin and Ascension, both please feel free to post. I plan on skipping after the first exchange or two to traveling and more interesting things - we have to pick up the pace.


Braga or Versi

The woman seated in the tent is old - her features are lined with creases and crevices, and her hair has turned the color of steel. But there is no hunching over, no sign of weakness in her body, and her fingers grasp brush and hold parchment to a portable desk firmly and without trembling. She is dressed in an old uniform, well-maintained and cared for but bearing the marks of countless campaigns and triumphs; affixed to her breast and collar are the symbols of her former rank. A slashing sword hangs from her belt, in much the same condition.

"I am Kazei Kharal Fire Orchid," she informs her guest. "Commander of this army. Do not be afraid, for you stand among allies against the Mask of Winters. Please be seated, so that we may gather as much information as possible regarding our foes capabilities."

[Inspector Valin]

Versi's frown tightened at that request. Glancing briefly to Braga, the little Lunar stepped swiftly in front of her father. Whatever danger lurked within the tent, she'd face it first. Even now, she could probably withstand a little more harm than her guardian likely could. The young Exalt walked calmly forward into the tent, leaning only a little on her silver-cannon.

Versino must've been a strange sight to Fire Orchid. Her hair was dishevelled, her face a touch dirty and her pace was slow: in part from wariness, in part from pain. Still, for all that, she bore the look of a Chosen. her silver plate was spotless and gleamed in the half-light of the tent. The young Lunar looked across towards the grey haired general with a surprised expression. This was perhaps the oldest looking individual Versi had met since arriving in Creation: the Justicar had been a little weathered, but not like this. The only comparison she really had was Kaneko, or how he must've looked in life. The concept of looking old was still something of an academic idea for Versi, and to see someone with years accumulated, yet still standing strong was... interesting. A little inspiring too. This was the sort of person who'd fought off the Yozis, back in the First Age.

The Little Lunar's suspicions faded as she advanced, smiling politely. The young Malfean bowed her head, trying not to flinch at the movement and chuckling slightly to herself. "Not sure how much help I'll be, Kazei. I didn't know who the Mask of Winters was until about a week ago." Whereas this woman has probably been dealing with Thorns all her life or something. Versi blushed a little with the admission, before shaking her head. "Still, I can tell you what it feels like to get stabbed by Soulsteel I guess. I'm Versino, by the way."

[Ascension]

"Wait!" Braga exclaims as Versi steps forward into the tent, but he knows not to expect her to heed his protest. She seems even more determined than usual today, and Versi's determination is, well, enough to carry a little mortal girl all the way across the Endless Desert.

The fact that he doesn't think he has a chance at stopping her doesn't mean he's pleased with her behavior, though. He thought she only insisted on coming to this meeting as his bodyguard, out of her newfound paranoia, not because she actually had anything to say to the Kazei. Unless... she's not about to go in there and spin that whole tale about "Sidereal Exalted" to Karal Fire Orchid, is she?

He physically cringes. Hopefully the commander understands how children can be sometimes... or, no. He thinks back on the news of the recent death of her husband, and suddenly hopes very much that the commander doesn't have children. No need to pick at that scab any further. In any case, Lookshyan children probably come out of the womb marching in military step... and curses, he wishes he could be in that tent with Versi. She's a good, good girl, but there's so much she's unfamiliar with, about manners, about Creation... and he'll be the one blamed for any social gaffes she might commit. He'll be the one at fault, really.

No, he is not pleased.

[Ifni]

The Air Aspect's demeanor has something of the quality of a thundercloud, as he watches the little girl dart into the tent. But if Ireva doesn't miss her guess, that glower comes from concern at least as much as annoyance.

After a moment, she tilts her head toward the tent, and murmurs for Braga's ears alone, "I'm sure she'll be fine, Chozei. Fire Orchid seems to approve of Lunars -" if Versi's going in there wearing her moonsilver armor and with feathers showing in her hair, they're presumably not trying to hide that much, "- and she has no reason to mislike your daughter." She pauses, and then adds, a little hesitantly, "Her courage does you credit."

Reassurance offered and hopefully heard, but if Braga's already dwelling on this topic, he may not want to think about it more...

"Anyway. It sounds like you had a rough night; I'm glad you could make it this morning. Regarding the Frostwing... is the fuel something that could be made from more common ingredients, or would you need the infrastructure of somewhere like Lookshy?"

And the Dynast can choose for himself whether to talk about what bothers him, or turn the conversation onto safer and more impersonal matters.

I'm trying to set this up so Braga can do any of the following:
-Ignore or only briefly acknowledge the reassurance, go straight into a dissertation on airship fuel (which we do not write out in full), and then skip to the meeting with Fire Orchid.
-Say something in response to the reassurance, and then get called into the tent, setting up possible material for future conversations.
-... something else?

But in any case, since it looks like we won't get time for a full conversation, I'm just trying to lay the groundwork for introspection and possible further conversations. I like Braga's introspection :smallwink:

Also happy to edit if this turns out to work awkwardly with the segue into Braga's interview.

[Aevylmar]

Skandi the Kitty gives Versi a big sabertooth smile show of teeth as she enters, and then stalks up to Ireva.

"Mrrreow," he says plainly.

[industrious]

Kharal Fire Orchid

The old woman...blinks at Versi's statements. She smiles, then, warmth and kindness filling the lines of her face. A kindness non-existent in Malfeas.

If Versino knew enough of her plays, and if the demons could act sufficiently well, she might know the term grandmotherly.

"My dear child," she says. "You faced one of the deadliest beings of Creation but a day ago. You walk, you speak, and you try to be clever. And you think so little of yourself?"

She pats the ground beside her, moves a cushion over.

"We have been chosen by Those Most High for our deeds, for our excellence, gifted with powers beyond mortals. Never think so poorly of yourself."


Social Attack!

KFO is using You Can Be More on Versino, trying to instill an Intimacy of Her Abilities(Confidence).
[roll0]

[Ifni]

Ireva looks away from Braga for a moment at the insistent meowing, and bends down to scoop up the cat and tickle gently under his chin. "Awww, who's a pretty kitty? You are, aren't you..."

After a few moments of this she clears her throat and turns back to the others. Her arms are still wrapped around Skandi, one hand cushioning his paws; not as good as ink, but she might be able to make out letters traced onto her palm.

... or possibly he just wants cuddles.

[The_Snark]

Isa nods acknowledgement. "Thank you for stopping by."

She is thankful, a little, though the advice is... misplaced. She can understand Siaka’s reasons for wanting to put those memories behind her, but if Isa is going to carry out her orders - when did that become an if? - she’s going to own up to the choice. No hiding, no running, no trying to bury the memory and pretend it never happened. It’ll hurt, but some things should hurt. Ireva deserves that much. If necessity demands she do unpleasant things, she would rather do them and weep than harden her heart and stop caring.

Isa has no more to say here; I can continue if Siaka leaves without further comment, she has a bit of astrology to do and then she's going to head into camp.

[Inspector Valin]

Versi blinked a little, barely able to understand the expression on Fire Orchid's face. Her words were similar to those Willow had said yesterday, but this was a fellow Chosen. An Exalt, trying to instil the same feelings in her. Pride in yourself, even when you failed. The Kazei looked nothing like Braga, yet the grey haired woman's manner reminded her of the Air Aspect. Or how he'd used to be. Friendly, supportive, the man who'd taught her everything about the world... The young Lunar's blush intensified; she shivered a little, her voice suddenly quiet. She didn't deserve kindness like this. "You're being nice. Thank you."

Nodding to her host, Versino moved across the room, taking the cushion at Fire Orchid's side. The young Lunar looked up towards the older lady and her writing, a little awestruck still. Shaking her head to clear it, the travelling girl tried to explain. "I know I've been Chosen. Exalted. It's what's kept me and Mr. Braga a step ahead of the Cleansing. But that isn't enough now. The Deathknights are well trained, their weapons suck the life out of you, and they're not going to give up and start doing something else. I have to fight and last time I wasn't good enough. I couldn't help the others. Couldn't do anything but stand there and try not to die.."

Versi tensed a little for a second, the words had been a somewhat hash confession. She'd felt so strong since her Exaltation; the mighty little warrior who could go toe to toe with anything in Creation. But she'd been lying to herself in part. What do you expect? You know where you stand in the Hierarchy, girl. And nothing changes that. A harsh old man's raspy cackle echoed in her mind. The young Lunar shivered, the room suddenly seeming a little colder. She looked back up to Fire Orchid, voice quiet to the point of a confessional. "I know I've got the armour now. And Skycutter. I've learned to fight. But when I was mortal, I couldn't do that. I was little, weak, and surrounded by people who'd kill me if they thought it'd be funny." She was scared, not angry. The past still frightened Versi, even now.

Still, she's a long way from Malfeas. She's with her true people: the Creation Born. And she has reason to hope. Versi smiled back up at Fire Orchid, starting to feel a little warmer as she nodded to the general. "Still, I survived. And that means I can get better. Will get better. Next time, I'm going to be as good and strong as any other Chosen. Even if the Mask of Winters shows up in person." The nerves hadn't truly left Versi; that glare from the commander would linger for a while, but the resolve was true enough. She'd come a long way already from her theatre. She could get better

[Ascension]

Braga is somewhat encouraged by Ireva's line of reasoning, but not quite in the way she intended... He realizes that if the Chuzei's wife thinks that Versi's Exaltation is the only thing that might cause her problems in dealing with the commander, then perhaps she hasn't divined all the young Lunar's secrets after all. There are some things that Lookshy, no, that no one needs to know.

That just leaves the question of the fuel that she burned away in the Frostwing's crash.

"Well, Typhon prevented me from making a complete inspection, but I believe that the answer to that question is a bit more complex than you might realize with, if you'll excuse me, only a layman's understanding of thaumaturgy..."

Later

Braga blinks rapidly as he enters the dimness of the tent, not content to wait for his eyes to fully adjust before examining its interior. He is surprised by the Kazei's age, but by little else of the sight that greets him... the unsophisticated martial efficiency of the commander and her personal space is precisely in keeping with the expectations the Scarlet Dynasty's softer sons have of their estranged cousins.

"Chozei Braga, ma'am," he introduces himself, omitting all the surnames given him both in the Realm and in Lookshy. He salutes as crisply as he can in the Lookshyan fashion, managing roughly the level of formality one might expect from a helot... a young, poor helot.

He takes the seat he's invited to take, kneeling, legs folded under himself, sitting on his heels. That is Lookshyan formal style, right? Or perhaps he's thinking of the Shogunate... If the latter is the case, he hopes the tradition has endured in Lookshy... many Shogunate traditions have, after all.

"I'm afraid I haven't had time to fully assess what we're dealing with here," he apologizes, fidgeting under the Kazei's gaze, "A geomantic survey of that shadowland would be useful, particularly if it has wounded any dragon lines, but given its size I would need at least a couple hours, and ideally a trained assistant... I can say with certainty, however, that one of the deathknights who we fought was an artificer of great skill... and also that their diplomatic representative, the one who calls himself Typhon, lies. Other than that..."

His voice trails off, and his eyes wander, soon fixing on a small stain on the wall of the tent behind Fire Orchid's left shoulder.

"Do you have any specific questions? I have very good recall, by Me-"

He cuts himself off halfway through "by Mela's grace," cheeks flushing crimson and chin sinking to his chest, half bowing in apology to the commander.

"I can recall detail very well," he finishes lamely, "When I focus my mind."

[industrious]

Braga

Interested, the older Solar leans forward fixing Braga with her gaze.

"I have a group of thaumaturges and sorcerers in my camp - all of them mortal or god-blooded. If I put them under your command, how much time would you need?"

"I have some familiarity with your craft - a working knowledge, little more. Geomantic sabotage - they can do quite a lot with it."

Versino

Fire Orchid smiles and claps her hands together.

"That's the spirit!"

"Every day is a chance to hurl yourself against the world, to improve yourself. To be better. And next time..."

She taps the paper in front of them, filled with notes about the deathknights - their tactics, their abilities, the composition of their defenses.

"We'll be ready for them."


I think we can skim over the rest of the debriefing and skip to Isa's return?

[The_Snark]

It occurs to Isa, in the wake of Iron Siaka’s departure, that her dilemma is in one respect the exact opposite of the one the Joybringer faced. If she were to go against orders... not something she should be thinking about, but impossible not to after Siaka brought up the possibility so bluntly (and if she's being perfectly honest, it was on her mind)... then she would not feel she was abandoning her duty. She would feel she was betraying Chejop Kejak.

Unsettling thought.

Ireva's message on the breeze is a most welcome distraction. Isa listens, thinking. It would be easy enough to shadow the army from hiding, and likely that would allow her more freedom of movement. But it would also constrain her, forcing her to act in secret (or through Ireva and Zhou). And she has to admit she's a little surprised that Ireva managed to sway the commander this far.

Decision made, she sits down. Tepet Xet won't be expected for a little while yet, she would have put some distance between herself and the camp sentries, and she has preparations to make in the meantime. Pen and parchment and ink come out of a belt pocket. She's been pushing her luck with her petitions to the Loom lately, working in a rush and forgoing the paperwork. You can get away with that if you have to, but there are consequences if you aren't careful. Time to try and settle her thread a bit, backdate some forms and insulate herself from reprisal (from the auditors, the spiders or the vagaries of Fate itself).

There's no good place to write out here, just a flattish stump; her calligraphy is going to be a little rough. But it's still better than nothing. The stars are hidden behind the blue daylight sky, but she doesn't need to see them, especially not for a simple blessing such as this. She sketches out details for a destiny under the auspice of the Pillar, encouraging temperance and careful thought in a small set of Fire Orchid's men, and appends a request that the pattern spiders bleed off any residual paradox-energy she's built up over the last day or two. Then she begins work on a somewhat more elaborate destiny, a fallback in case Tepet Xet is not as welcome here as Ireva believes. Early morning is an auspicious hour for the Rising Smoke... and she made certain implicit threats to the Black Hand, when she parted. She wants to be able to follow through should they meet again.

Okay! Isa is constructing a pair of destinies. The first is an ascending destiny of the Pillar Gull, meant for a random talon of mortal soldiers; the second is a resplendent destiny of the Rising Smoke.

Wits+Linguistics (petition): [roll0]
Stunt: [roll1]
Charisma+Performance (prayer): [roll2] +3 successes from 2nd Bureaucracy Excellency
Stunt: [roll3]

Wits+Craft (air) (petition): [roll4] +3 successes from 2nd Craft Excellency
Stunt: [roll5]
Charisma+Performance (prayer): [roll6] +3 successes from 2nd Bureaucracy Excellency
Stunt: [roll7]

Edit - those are miserable rolls, but thanks to Excellencies I don't think Isa actually failed anything. Let me know stunt ratings so I can work out details.

And after that, Isa will don the Xet-destiny, turn off Lion Mouse Stratagem and Underling Invisibility Practice, and...

Tepet Xet approaches the camp perhaps an hour later, in clear view of the sentries. Her stance is wary - she's clearly not confident she's not going to be attacked on sight - but she's not actually holding a weapon in hand, either.

[industrious]

Soldiers

They raise their weapons at her approach, cautious. When she doesn't appear to be attacking or about to attack, they relax slightly - they aren't lowered, but they are less high, at least.

"Madam," one of them says, slowly, as if approaching a cornered beast. "If you would come with us..."

[The_Snark]

Xet is indeed not about to attack; if anything, she looks poised to retreat. Her ostentatious easy confidence from before is absent - now is not the time for posturing - and she is careful to halt well outside spear-reach, let alone arm’s reach.

She studies the one who spoke for a few moments, looking impassive, and then nods once, stepping closer. Not too close, but enough to show willingness to be escorted.

Putting up Telltale Symphony. Prior Warning is also up, just as a reminder - should give ~6 minutes' advance warning of trouble.

[industrious]

Xet

The soldiers form in around Xet, surrounding the monk. One of them lights a brilliant white flare and tosses it into the air.


You get a nebulous, ill-defined sense of danger.

OOC: I'm not sure if this ends in blows, but it could

Fire Orchid

She stares at the ascending white flare, and nods.

"Your message was received, Ireva. If you wouldn't sitting...here. And cousin, if you would stand...here..."

The effect of her maneuverings appears to indicate to Xet that her allies are either with Fire Orchid or in the case of Ireva, a neutral party.


Apologies. I'm trying to get this conflict resolved, and then I'll be writing "traveling interlude" scenes with everyone. Feel free to have your character react to Fire Orchid's positioning, etc.

[Ifni]

Interesting. The impression the older Solar seems to want to orchestrate is not very subtle, but that doesn't mean it won't be effective.

Is she trying to help me? To support what I'm trying to do?

The message is aimed at Xet, presumably. You have no friends here, no one to turn to - except perhaps Ireva, who for your sake has refused to align herself with your enemies. It could be a powerful reassurance; a powerful encouragement to keep listening. Combined with an unsubtle threat, a hedge against betrayal, that leaves Ireva's hands entirely clean.

If that's the intent, it might well work, if Xet were actually what she seems. Enough that Ireva wants to give Fire Orchid the benefit of the doubt, to imagine that she's trying for cooperation rather than sabotage. Work on that assumption for now, anyway - but remember it's an assumption.

Isa knows too much of the truth for the surface maneuver to touch her, Ireva thinks, after their meeting last night - although she might look deeper, might follow Ireva's thoughts and guess similarly at Fire Orchid's intent, and from that infer a similar positive impression, she could be trying to help. Or not - it might simply be Fire Orchid deliberately disavowing Ireva and her actions, while claiming authority over the rest of the group - but in the hope that it might be a gesture of support, she can't and won't reject it.

The little Eclipse inclines her head at the commander's request, and moves to her assigned place with a smile - tinged with more than a hint of respect - and a murmured, "Of course."

[Ascension]

Braga's mind is far more occupied with the logistics of organizing Karal Fire Orchid's thaumaturges, and some remaining concern about Versi's recent behavior, than with thoughts of the mysterious Tepet Xet. He falls into his assigned place in the Kazei's tableau without even considering the possibility that it holds any implicit meaning.

[Maugan Ra]

Zhou is not much of one for political maneuverings, but that is not to say that he cannot recognise one being played out in front of him. Briefly, he considers defying Fire Orchid's request out of spite, but... no, that would be immature and unhelpful at best.

And, to be fair, he does want to be on the Kaizei's side. As difficult and aggravating as the situation might be, she is still family, and quite possibly one of the greatest hopes his homeland has.

Thus, he takes his assigned position after only a momentary pause.

[Aevylmar]

Skandi the Cat, not being an official member of the group, has no official position.

Well, except for the official unofficial position of sitting in the Kaizei's lap, being petted and purring, in order to defuse slightly the air of martial menace.

[Inspector Valin]

Versi stands between her father and Fire Orchid, glancing around the group, a little confused. What had that white flare meant? Zhou seemed unhappy, Ireva was smiling, and Braga was distracted... this could mean anything. Frowning, the little Lunar leant on her cannon, keeping a hand on the grip whilst standing in her assigned place. Whatever this was going to be, she'd meet it as best she could. And then she could start trying to work out just what was going on with this mission.

[DeafnotDumb]

Talking, gossiping, lying and tricking her way across the campsite, it briefly occurs to Jade that maybe she should check in with the Chuzei. Would he need her help?

No, it'd be best to wait until he's finished his talk with commander Orchid something-or-other. He wouldn't want the confusion of Bright Shard right now. Best just to stay put and enjoy herself.

[COLOR="#4B0082"]"A monk's staff has a knob on the end..."/COLOR]

[The_Snark]

Xet refrains from smiling at the soldiers' caution (her arrival is so urgent that they have to use flares rather than sending a man with a message?). She waits patiently, hands held loosely at her sides. At this point she's fairly sure the commander's invitation isn't a trap - and if it were, it wouldn't be sprung here.

[industrious]

A Meeting of Minds

The soldiers lead Xet to the Commander's tent once more, and in her absence, the Solar seems to have persuaded her companions to her point of view. Zhou sits at Fire Orchid's right hand; Braga and Versi at her left. A small cat lies across the aged Zenith's lap, purring as she slowly strokes through its fur.

Only Ireva appears to be undecided, neutral in this matter, seated orthogonal to her fellow Exalt.

The Commander merely stares at the monk with unreadable eyes, lips curling into a satisfied smile.


Social attack! Time to mess with Xet's mind.

[roll0]

Success will impose the emotion (Unnerved) on Xet. I believe Isa gets +2 from her Temperance but -1 from her party Intimacies.

[The_Snark]

The implications of the tableau are not lost on Tepet Xet. Her eyes flick across the assembled Exalts, taking in her companions of yesterday arrayed at Fire Orchid’s side. A sharp-eyed observer could almost see the gears moving behind her eyes, as she gauges expressions and tries to guess at what’s passed between them and the Commander in her absence. It’s quite clear that something has. Versi and Braga were left at the shadowland yesterday, and now they stand with the Commander - maybe not on her side, Versi looks uncertain and Braga distracted, but definitely not on Xet’s side either. If one were dividing this assembly into sides. Which they’re not, right? All friends here.

Hah.

Nobody speaks. No-one on the other side wants to pre-empt the Commander, and it seems the Commander wants to force Xet to make the first move.

"Well! I’d introduce myself, but I believe everyone here is already acquainted. Lovely. Oh, and we've got the death threats out of the way too, that's nice! I always find those so awkward..." She essays a laugh. It sounds a little more forced than she probably intended, and evidently she realizes it, because her voice is more sober when she continues. "I believe there was some mention of oaths...?"

She glances at Ireva. Possibly unintentionally, she has placed herself closer to the Eclipse's side than not, as if taking shelter in the Eclipse's shadow.

Social attack bounces off Isa's MDV, but she's going to try playing along and letting Fire Orchid think she's rattled. Will spend up to 4m to boost Socialize Excellency if needed, and I'd argue the +3 dice bonus from Arcane Fate applies too (if Xet were real, she would be pretty unnerved in this situation).

[Maugan Ra]

Zhou all but rolls his eyes, the edges of his mouth curling into a reassuring smile. "I'm pretty sure no one likes death threats very much." He says dryly. "I'm rather opposed to them on principle, really. An alliance held together by the fear of consequences rather than the knowledge of things to gain always seemed the more fragile of the two."

He is aware that what he is doing could quite possibly be seen as undercutting the Kaizai and the little tableu she'd built here, but frankly he doesn't much care. Xet is an agent under his command and an ally in battle, while Isa is something approaching a friend, and he'd not exactly pleased at his cousin (well, relative of some description - he'd have to check the family tree to work out the specifics) for threatening her like this. Even less so for trying to use him as an instrument for conveying that threat.

"Still, in the interests of expediency and as something of a compromise... yes, an oath seems the best course. I believe the idea was for it to be kept fairly simple - that you would not work to threaten or undermine Lookshy for the duration of this war, or likewise harm the Kaizai or her troops for a similar period."

A sideways glance at Fire Orchid. "Some kind of guaranteed safety while you hold to those terms seems like it would be in order as well. Wouldn't want to bind you against defending yourself, in the... unlikely event it proves necessary."

[industrious]

Fire Orchid

"I really, really want to kill you."

Her voice is soft, as her fingers trace along the lines of a sheathed crossguard.

"But your friend has persuaded me that you might have some value. Another warm body to throw against the Mask of Winters, at the very least."

Her gaze hardens.

"You can't be trusted. If I let you wander freely, you'll sabotage my men, break their morale, try to kill me or one of my allies if you can. And if you cause enough trouble - which you will - I'll end up having to kill you anyway."

A tongue traces the Solar's thin lips.

"Care to think of an oath tight enough to bind us both together?"

[The_Snark]

"I suppose I'd better, given the alternative," Xet returns, her voice carefully light. "Luckily for me, I think you and the Chuzei have done most of the hard work already." Her eyes flick momentarily to Zhou - it would have been a kind gesture, if this were what it looked like. Luckily the Commander doesn't seem to have taken exception to his speaking up.

She crosses to Ireva's side, offers and receives a hand, and clears her throat. "I swear to raise no hand against you or your men, save in self-defense; nor will I attempt to sabotage or subvert your men, break their morale, or undermine your alliances. I swear that I do not intend to betray or harm Lookshy. I will abide by these strictures until the war against the Mask of Winters is concluded or until you make war on the Realm, whichever should come first."

She pauses a moment, meets the Zenith's eyes directly - the first time she's dared hold Fire Orchid's gaze for more than a second since arriving. Thank you for showing me this one, Ireva. "And lastly, I swear that I will not lie to you."

[industrious]

Kharal Fire Orchid

"I swear," she says slowly, her eyes fixed upon the Immaculate's.

"I swear, by the glory of the Most High, by the Midday Sun and the Ever-Changing Moon. By the Five Weavers who guide the lives of mortal men. I will raise no hand against you, nor order any of my men to raise arms against you, nor will not harm or order to be harmed any of the Realm-" and here she chokes on her words, forces bile down "until the threat to Lookshy is ended or we are betrayed by the Realm. I swear that these bindings shall be void in case of self-defense or in defense of my men."

"By the laws of Heaven and Creation do I swear this oath."

[Ifni]

Ireva rises to her feet as Xet steps toward her, taking the Dynast's offered hand with a brief encouraging smile. As Xet speaks her oath the Eclipse's face remains smooth and serene - although her hand tightens on Xet's, just slightly, as Isa speaks those last words.

And then Fire Orchid speaks, and the Eclipse's composure breaks into a fierce smile. It is more than she had hoped, more than she would have dared to ask. She inclines her head deeply to the Zenith, almost a bow, and steps forward to take her hand as well. When she speaks her voice is calm and clear, but with a current of strong emotion running just beneath the surface.

"By my name and blood. By ancient memory and present hope. By the Elemental Dragons, and the light of Sun and Moon and Stars, to shine and burn -" A glance at Zhou, a warmth in the fierceness of her smile, "- against the darkness of Oblivion..."

Her voice trembles before she steadies it. "In Heaven's sight, I bear witness to your oaths here sworn. In Heaven's sight, I affirm that I will fight to the best of my ability, to defend Lookshy from the Mask of Winters, and that I intend no harm to either Lookshy or the Realm. In Heaven's sight and with its blessing - may this alliance bring honor to us all."

She draws Fire Orchid and Xet's hands together, and white-gold light flowers forth, a radiant cascade of words in Old Realm, burning in the air. On Ireva's brow, the stylized eclipse blazes like a beacon in the night, a memory and a promise of unity.

Many of those present have seen this display before - but something is a little different this time. In the elegant white-gold script that scribbles itself across the air, some subtle quality of the calligraphy suggests elation. And to those who are watching closely, there is a glitter in Ireva's eyes that is not from the light of her anima.

Hope is a fragile thing, and easily crushed. And yet, so very sweet.

If anyone else wants to step in and add pledges of loyalty while we're holding hands, Ireva will happily sanctify them as well, and I can also delete bits and edit to fit that in.

(Skandi: Meow meow MEOW!)

And, obviously, spending 10m1wp to sanctify the oath.

And no more negative Intimacy to Fire Orchid, 'cause that was seriously awesome.

[industrious]

Through the Trevail of Ages: Ireva, Zhou, and Fire Orchid

The army of Kharal Fire Orchid moves and the party moves with them. Xet is banished to the outermost parts of the encampment - the other Solar may tolerate her existence, but her presence is far from wanted - but the party remains mostly together.

The aged Solar sticks her head through the couple's tent early one morning.

"You two! Cousin! We're touring the battlefield, away from the main column. Meet me by the horses in ten minutes."

The head quickly withdraws.

Braga: The Land of the Blind

The thaumaturges outpost is easy to spot; the smells and scents of strange herbs and incenses, the arcane designs on the tent (half of which are, regrettably, backwards)...this is familiar ground to the Air Aspect.

"No, no," a voice comes from within the tent. "You have to draw the lines outwards before you erase the old ones! Come on!"

In the center of an elaborate pentagram, a blood ape hunches over, beady eyes waiting for the mortals before him to make a mistake.

[Maugan Ra]

Through the Trevail of Ages: Ireva, Zhou, and Fire Orchid

The army of Kharal Fire Orchid moves and the party moves with them. Xet is banished to the outermost parts of the encampment - the other Solar may tolerate her existence, but her presence is far from wanted - but the party remains mostly together.

The aged Solar sticks her head through the couple's tent early one morning.

"You two! Cousin! We're touring the battlefield, away from the main column. Meet me by the horses in ten minutes."

The head quickly withdraws.


Zhou blinks in a slightly nonplussed fashion, then shrugs. "Well, I suppose every commander has their preferred method of doing things." He says after a few moments, moving over to the stand carrying his armour near the side of the tent and starting to don it. "I hope she doesn't expect much in the way of serious riding from me, though. I'm infantry, not cavalry."

[Ifni]

"Your family doesn't have a strong concept of privacy, I gather?" Ireva murmurs, sounding mildly amused, as she walks over to help Zhou with the buckles of his armor, checking the straps for wear or looseness. Of course he can don it himself perfectly easily, but that's not the point; even if it's entirely unnecessary, she finds joy in these little expressions of caring. Once that's done, the Eclipse puts on her orichalcum breastplate, turning to let Zhou check her armor as well.

"And yes, we can hope - I can stay on a horse, but it's not my specialty either. Does Lookshy even have cavalry? I know it's often a bit tricky for the Dragon-Blooded, since, well, animas."

She purses her lips. "I wonder what exactly she meant by battlefield."

Ireva looks over the tent before leaving, conscious that they might not return - anything could happen, she's known that for a long time, and it's been driven home again in the last few weeks. But there's nothing much to leave behind - their army-issue bedrolls, the remains of a ration pack.

"Lead the way, Chuzei," she grins at Zhou, and ducks out of the tent into the morning sunlight.

[industrious]

Kharal Fire Orchid

She laughs from outside.

"It's a tent," she calls, her voice perfectly audible at normal volume, a hint of laughter tinging her otherwise measured words.

"There's no privacy on the march, little barbarian*."

*literally, "One Who Is Not of Lookshy"



It has been really, really easy for Jade to ignite a green flare. Walk up to someone with a green flare, and give out the password. They're actually ordered to lead you someone away from prying ears, ignite it for you, and then walk away. How simple was that?

Jade might or might not have expected that The Commander herself would show up.

"Have I met you before," she asks as the elderly woman strides towards the conwoman. "Or is this just another new face?"


Shadowboxing

"Focus your Essence more upon the third chakra, Isa...as So,"

A nudge from Necessity, and Isa finds the posture more reasonable.

"How fares the waking world, Isa?"

[Ascension]

Braga: ...The One-Eyed Man Is Sorely Tested

Sesus Denerid Braga likes to consider himself an understanding, even magnanimous, individual. Many occultists, and most graduates of the Heptagram, have a regrettable tendency toward elitism. Open someone's eyes to hidden truths of the universe and, all too often, they use that knowledge as an excuse to look down on the unenlightened, to hold themselves above and apart from those who lack that insight. To make matters worse, there's nothing a truly stuck-up occultist seems to hate more than a less skilled occultist. For many sorcerers, watching rural shamans or back-alley thaumaturges fumble blindly on the threshold of understanding is far more cringe-inducing than witnessing the complete ignorance of the general public. Braga thinks that the reaction such sights engender in august practitioners is, for the most part, simple embarrassment, born from pained recollections of when they were the ones stumbling in darkness, groping toward the borders of comprehension.

Braga himself is, of course, above such pettiness. For one, he knows enough of the nature and history of the world to know that he, too, is manifestly ignorant of many higher cosmic truths. More importantly, though, he recognizes that unskilled thaumaturge-practitioners must be encouraged, must be nurtured. Everyone starts life in the darkness of ignorance... one shouldn't shame and punish children for failing to intuitively grasp all there is to know about the world. Curiosity is a good thing, and all curiosity starts in blindness. Without encouragement and gentle instruction, those struggling to open their eyes may never see the light.

Such light, vaguely patronizing platitudes are what fill Braga's mind as he approaches the tent of Kazei Karal's thaumaturges. They may lack a certain understanding, he thinks, but they mean well, and really, they're headed in more or less the right direction. It will only take a light touch to steer them onto the proper path. It will-

All Braga's good will toward the ignorant fools play-acting at being sorcerers under Fire Orchid's patronage evaporates the moment he sees what they're engaged in. Thaumaturgic demon-summoning. Some foolishness leads toward understanding, and that foolishness should be accepted and encouraged as a necessary struggle on the path to wisdom. Other foolishness, however, leads to nothing but untimely death, and that foolishness should be sternly and forcefully extinguished. As far as Braga's concerned, thaumaturgic demon summoning is a firm, firm example of the latter sort of foolishness.

"Stop!" he barks, in an iron tone that brooks no argument, a tone he's never even used with Versi. The Erymanthus is waiting patiently, which must mean that the inexpert wards around it are still holding, or at least that it sees no opportunity to attack. There's no way it would pass up the opportunity to spill blood otherwise. That means there's no absolute crisis yet. His first priority, then, is to prevent its imbecile summoners from making matters any worse.

His mind whirls, all the knowledge of demon-handling he'd once hoped to be able to forget rushing back to the forefront of his brain in a flood. Still, he needs more information.

"How long since it was called, and how long since these wards were laid?" he demands of the nearest of the mortal thaumaturges.

It should stay material if it breaks free, too eager for the visceral taste of physical blood to think of making an invisible escape... that will make it easier to deal with, though it will lead to casualties... best avoided, even if the first lives it would claim would likely be those of the idiots who called it.

He turns to another of the would-be summoners, blocking the Erymanthus's view of his lips, and asks in a much lower voice, "Do you have an enemy to offer it? It may still obey commands if you can direct it toward a fight and fresh blood. That would buy us time."

An image of that cat he saw Fire Orchid stroking flashes into Braga's mind. In a worst case scenario, sacrificing that cat would almost certainly pacify the demon for a time... but how could he possibly convince the Kazei herself to give up her pet to such a grisly fate, on such short notice?

With some reluctance his eyes flicker back toward the Erymanthus, meeting the beast's soulless gaze. Had his own sorcery brought the thing here, dealing with it could be as simple as a test of wills, a forceful invocation of ancient surrender accords, the imposture of the proper symbolic framework... but thanks to the mortals' blundering, it's far too late for such simple solutions now. That creature, despite the brutish nature of its intellect, knows the practical laws of sorcery just as well as any Exalted sage, and it knows that it lies beyond the reach of such measures. It won't submit easily, if at all.

He swears softly under his breath.

[Ifni]

Through the Travail of Ages

"Well, but it's polite to pretend, no?" Ireva returns cheerfully as she steps out of the tent, orichalcum breastplate gleaming visibly beneath her tunic. It's not entirely a joke - solitude had been in short supply among the street-gangs of her childhood, as well; she'd learned to turn her face away, to offer at least a semblance of privacy - but her voice is light. "Still, I'll keep the point in mind."

She doesn't react to barbarian; it's true, after all. And the older Solar's words might be mocking, but it feels like fairly gentle mockery, not contempt or scorn. She quells the momentary flash of resentment with the memory of Fire Orchid swearing her oath, taking her hand, offering promises beyond anything Zhou or Ireva had asked.

She steps aside from the tent to make way for Zhou, and then looks expectantly at the two Lookshyans.

[The_Snark]

Ah, that was it. Less comfortable, her footing perhaps a little less stable, but she feels better poised to react standing like this, and comfort is not the point of these stances. She keeps her breathing steady as instructed. Strange how much that can affect your movements - just another of those things that a street brawler or self-taught martial artist might never realize...

Dream. Oh, right. She’s asleep in the camp, not in Yu-Shan. This isn't real. But of course, that doesn't mean Chejop Kejak isn't really here.

"It fares, sifu. Kharal Ireva and her husband have found what Lookshy sent them out to find. The Gold has a hand in this, I think." She pauses, wondering how much she needs to explain. Her teacher has a reputation for knowing practically everything, but this isn't actually true, as she knows better than most - that said, it's quite possible that he already has spies in Fire Orchid's camp. "How much do you know of their plans for Lookshy already?"

[Maugan Ra]

The Travail of Ages

"There aren't any dedicated Cavalry units in the Seventh Legion, last I checked." Zhou answers Ireva as he steps out of the tent. "Generally, we rely on our allies in the Marukani tribes for that. They're proud and skilled warriors with a fine culture, even if they are 'barbarians'."

He wonders if the point was too blatant, then decides he doesn't really care. Instead, he just nods to the Kaizai, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Of course, the Eighth seems to do things a bit differently, which is fair enough. One must learn to make good use of expertise wherever it can be found, especially if it lies outside one's own competencies."

Yes, this is Zhou's idea of subtlety, and he's going to keep pressing the point that his wife's abilities are valuable in their own right for as long as Fire Orchid continues to mock or belittle her. Ah, family disputes...

[DeafnotDumb]

An adage concerning 'best laid plans' actually requires you to lay some plans. Jade had always viewed the things with suspicion, anyway. If she'd spent last night tortuously coming up with careful idea after careful idea, they would have gone out of the window anyway once the Commander walked up. She recalled what little she knew. A pineapple, prickly and aggressive, hated Immaculates, an Anathema for several years and probably a Lookshy woman through and through, which probably meant military, a dislike of deception and a patriotic pride deep to her bone.

She started with a bow, low, long and respectful. You could barely go wrong with that.

"Greetings-" don't call her big vegetable "-commander." She held the bow for a bit and then straightened with an apologetic - and slightly deferential - smile."A new face, I'm afraid. I take it you've met the Lookshy delegation?"

Now, access. What did Jade want from this conversation? She wanted an in with the commander, for the woman to believe she was in her camp. But she also wanted Lookshy to be safe, and for the dear despairing Chuzei to have some illusion of control. That rejected selling out her, hah, 'comrades'.

What did the commander want? What a military woman wants - intel, men, metal... enemies. Be careful of that last one. Also revenge, for her husband. And, most of all... to walk the streets of her home again, not under cover, not under darkness, but with open pride in herself and who she was, blazing with light.

Hopefully these were good guesses, otherwise that military experience was going to see some use.

"I'm Bright Shard," she says, and bows her head. Be a peer but certainly not an equal - act like you're giving a report to your commander. "nominally. I am also supposedly merely a crafter. That I managed to talk to you alone, unexpectedly... should present other skills, I hope. Ones honed by a lifetime of pretending."

Now, how to go about this? What the commander wanted was probably to go home. Long years, and how her body must ache. But how to go about this? Come as an ally from Lookshy? Ireva already tried friendliness, and was rebuffed. Come as a fellow enemy of Lookshy, and risk patriotic wrath? Hm.

The one thing the patriot likes better - or hates more - than a foreign enemy is the internal one. Nothing better than a civil war. The best foe is the one who is you, but wrong. Fighting Lookshy... for Lookshy.

"I'm from Lookshy." She says. "I signed up to fight for it. Not to have it fight me. Allying with the Realm against the Mask? Good. Deathlords outweigh even Dynasts. Immaculates preaching? Words hurt little. But the cleansing..."

Fists ball.

"I can live with the having to hide." She admits. "I can live with the distance from family - from pride - from reward - from safety, stability, from Lookshy. But the Cleansing..." She grimaces. "...would rather I didn't live with it. Commander Kharal Fire Orchid, I think I would rather live with your Lookshy than the one I have at the moment. I would rather live with a place -"

A brand glows on her forehead. The bait is laid. Someone who is inside Lookshy and a fellow comrade in the fight for Lookshy... against Lookshy. A woman who understands her, hopefully. Who is going through something similar.

"-that has seen the light." she finishes.

There's a pause. Okay, Jade thinks, don't be too slick. If you're human, that's less suspicious. Less superior.

Bright Shard coughs out a bit of shyness. "Uh, sorry." She says. "I've been... repressing that for too long. Speeches aside, commander... I'm tired. If working with you means not having to pretend, then I'll at least take that. Every Solar is a spy in Lookshy, every Solar hides... and out here, a woman stands blazing in gold."

She nods her head in thanks. Ah, Jade realizes. Not merely a peer, Solar-to-Solar. A supplicant as well. "It helps." She says quietly. "Can I help you?"


Note that Perfect Mirror as Bright Shard is still up, interfacing with JET and similar. The disguise was placed on last morning.
Spending 1 Perip Essence on Mastery of Small Manners to boost appearance to 6, try and read her Motivation and to make a brief forehead glow.

I am not entirely sure if this is a good plan. I am not entirely sure if this is even a plan.

Rolling Performance + Manipulation: 9 die and 8 from personal = 17 dice.
[roll0]
Stunt die: [roll1]

Essence: Perip 0, Personal 20.

[industrious]

Kharal Fire Orchid

Fire Orchid clicks her tongue at the Dragon-Blood, shaking her head with a matronly chuckle. As they walk towards their mounts, however, her grin widens.

"Tell me how you met my hot-headed cousin" she says casually, as she pulls herself up onto the saddle. "and I'll tell you about the Woolen Sock incident when he was...three."


The old woman smiles, warmth in every wrinkle, and clasps her by the hand.

"I think that we can help each other," she says. "What would you like me to call you?"


Chejop Kejak

"Not enough," he says softly. "Anything you tell me can only give me more useful information."

"Defend yourself. And continue your thoughts as well."

He launches into a series of attacks, his motions slow, deliberate, his form flawless. He shows each move to Isa, that they may be recognized and a proper defense prepared. This is not a spar - Chejop restricted himself solely to Isa's own style when sparing; this was something different.


Roll Int+Martial Arts, difficulty 3 to figure out his style.

Solar Hero

Thaumaturges

"Around eighteen hours," their apparent leader says. "I've got wards set up that should last another six, but we have to refresh the lines continuously or they'll lose their potency. There's no danger of the thing getting out."


A difficulty 2 Int+Occult check will let you know he's dead wrong about needing to "refresh the lines."

four or more successes, and you'll realize he's actually right, but the effect is only necessary for Second Circle Demons.

[Ifni]

Kharal Fire Orchid

Fire Orchid clicks her tongue at the Dragon-Blood, shaking her head with a matronly chuckle. As they walk towards their mounts, however, her grin widens.

"Tell me how you met my hot-headed cousin" she says casually, as she pulls herself up onto the saddle. "and I'll tell you about the Woolen Sock incident when he was...three."

"... now that's a little unfair, in the absence of anyone who knew us as children," Ireva laughs in return. If there's a shadow of sadness in her eyes, it's matched with sympathy - almost everyone who knew her at age three is dead or an ocean away, but Fire Orchid's situation may not be so different, in practice. "Playing dirty, Kazei."

She strokes the neck of the smaller of the two remaining horses for a moment, waiting until it seems calm before putting a foot in the stirrup and swinging lightly up into the high-cantled saddle. She's never going to win any prizes for equestrianism, but she's spent enough time traveling on horseback to know the basics.

"But since stories of Zhou's childhood are indeed a well-chosen bribe -" Her eyes sparkle at the Fire Aspect, "- we met in Nexus, at one of the training grounds where the mercenary companies and free blades practice. I'd been living in the city for some years, pretending to be a Wood Aspect; I went there to keep up my skills with the sword."

She shrugs, her smile turning a little rueful, a little self-deprecating. "I avoided Dynasts and Lookshyans alike, as a rule. Worried they'd see through me. But... I knew I couldn't hide forever, if I wanted to be able to make a difference. I'd left people behind, in Thorns, trapped in the darkness at the Mask's mercy." Her voice is calm, only hardening a little at that last. She meets Fire Orchid's eyes for a moment, searching for a reaction, before lowering her own gaze - in deference, in acknowledgement of the older woman's experiences, take your pick. The other Solar must have made that decision at some point, likely earlier than she had. "From what I'd seen of him, Zhou seemed... like someone worth knowing better. Worth the risk."

She turns slightly in the saddle to smile at her husband. "I'm inclined to think that was the best gamble I ever made, even counting the time I called Nine Lives Lucky's bluff on the seventh round and it turned out he only had a pair of jugglers, and I paid off my apartment with that one."

[Maugan Ra]

Zhou is busy concentrating on properly mounting his horse and staying there - he has precisely no desire to utterly embarass himself in front of everyone - so it takes him a few moment to recognise the turn the conversation has taken.

"'Woolen Sock Incident'?" He asks, voice dry. "Can't say I remember that one. I do remember those sparring matches, though. It's not every day a tiny Lost Egg pulls out a sword almost as big as her and challenges you to a duel."

[Ifni]

"Well, you were using Aurora," Ireva grins. "Good steel swords aren't so cheap I could afford to replace them on a regular basis. And Remembrance reinforced my cover, too." She glances at Fire Orchid, and explains, "My jade daiklaive - that and being able to use the Wind-Carried Words Technique were how I allayed suspicion, usually."

There were hints, earlier, of a pre-existing hostility, a judgement in advance of their meeting. She'd wondered, then, if Fire Orchid had received reports from Nexus. There might be a clue in whether she's surprised or not at the mention of a jade daiklave, since if her scout had watched the battle, he would have seen Ireva wielding orichalcum.

[Ascension]

Braga's eyes drop to the wards, examining them more closely in light of the head thaumaturge's claims. They don't follow the tradition he practices, or indeed any of the styles he's most familiar with (But then, what are the chances that the 'Commanding Teacher' would ever willingly associate with practitioners of an Immaculate-approved warding art?), and for a brief moment he experiences a distinct falling feeling, wavering on the edge of terror, as he considers the possibility that they might not be functional wards at all. But no, the Erymanthus is waiting patiently. Contrary to the assumptions of particularly lazy occultists, even First Circle demons are individuals, and it is distantly possible that patience comes naturally to this particular Erymanthus, but that possibility seems distant enough to be safely disregarded. He takes a breath to center himself and allows his inner Essence to breathe as well, letting a faint tingle of power radiate outward from his lungs, spreading reassuringly throughout his body.

As Braga regains his focus, old memories return to him as well, and his mind, moving once more with its usual speed and clarity, begins forging connections between various fragments of recollection and understanding. The structure of the army thaumaturge's warding circle (which is, in fact, functional, if a bit distorted) draws from an old, old tradition... definitely pre-Usurpation, but that in itself is not excessively unusual. Many old traditions have survived shockingly well in more insular pockets of the Threshold. No, what really draws the sorcerer's attention is the way the warding ritual is being executed. Constantly renewing the lines of a ward of this type in the manner the thaumaturge describes is a precaution meant to contain demons of the Second Circle.

"Where did you learn your demonology?" Braga asks the thaumaturge. That question is perhaps not as pressing as several of the other issues at hand, but he is genuinely curious as to the answer. The compiler of any source material that would actually teach techniques for dealing with Second Circle demons through thaumaturgy would, in Braga's reckoning, have to have been a powerful Exalt, a high-ranking demon cultist, or a fool, and likely mad as well in any of those three cases. If this army thaumaturge's chosen text or tradition includes any beckoning rituals to actually call demons of the Second Circle in addition to its instructions on how to contain them, it could be a very, very dangerous thing to leave in the hands of mortals.

He waves off the question, though, shaking his head free of hyperbolic worries. There'll be time for that conversation later. As far as he knows, the threat of unbound Second Circle demons running rampant through the countryside is still hypothetical, while an unbound Erymanthus most certainly is crouched in front of him, its blood-stench permeating even through the wards and the whole tent's pervasive smell of alchemical unguents.

"You're right that those wards should hold another six hours, but the precaution of constantly renewing the lines is only necessary if you're trying to contain a demon of the Second Circle. Under the current circumstances you aren't just wasting unneeded effort, you're increasing the likelihood of error. How long can your people continually redraw those lines before one of your assistants makes a mistake? It's waiting to find out."

He scowls, unable to keep his distaste for the thaumaturges' work from showing.

"What made you call up this thing anyway? How were you planning on using it without the authority to command it?"

[DeafnotDumb]

Bright Shard clasps the woman's hand warmly, with palpable relief. There's hesitation as she's asked to provide a name, the nervousness of a woman used to hiding.

The trap has been baited. Now, it's time for a bit of recreational paranioa and make sure that you're not the one being tricked.

Possiblity number one is that you're not talking to the real Commander - so far, this is a kind and generous woman, not a prickly pineapple. So, check the time, and remember it, and later find out if Fire Orchid was absent around then. If she wasn't, someone in the camp must have noticed their Commander doing something.

The second possibility is that she's the commander herself and she's tricking you or using you. Well, she should be! That's the bait. But it's worth working out what she wants from you... and if she says it's nothing, then you've either got one of those one-in-a-million mythical 'decent marks' or she's got a plan.

Possibility three is that you've pulled this off perfectly and everything's going to go perfectly to plan. Hah, no. But perhaps you've got a good start.

"Bright Shard is what I'm used to being called." She risks. "So if you could use that... but the name I was born with was Gherin Bright Shard." She bites her lip. it's a good choice: a weak bloodline and diminished family that few know of. "I don't use it, though, in case my... nature brings shame on them. But maybe if a Kharal Anathema can walk into Lookshy..."

She stops, uncertain. "...So, what do we do now?"

Time to be tested, perhaps.


Spending 1 mote to know the precise time.

[The_Snark]

Shadowboxing

This is true. She just wishes it weren’t also what he would say if he didn’t trust her, and wanted to cross-check her reports with others. It’s good sense to ask for complete information, of course - how would she know if his other sources lacked some small but crucial piece of information? She wouldn’t have batted an eye at this a few months ago... and they’re discussing the Gold Faction’s plans now; on this subject they agree.

Still. That little seed of doubt bothers her.

"Chuzei Kharal Zhou, his wife and several others newly sworn to the city were assigned by Lookshyan intelligence to find and eliminate an Anathema general rumored to be marching on the city," Isa begins, starting from the time she entered the story. He almost certainly knows this much, but - completeness. "All of these others are also Anathema, or closely linked to them: one Solar masquerading as an Air-aspected outcaste, most likely a Night; one young Changing Moon Lunar, also disguised as an Air Aspect; one Air Aspect who I'm fairly sure actually is a Terrestrial, but who has a blood relation to the Lunar; and of course Skandi the Wolf, who did not bother to disguise himself at all." There is no need to tell Chejop Kejak that this unlikely assembly is no coincidence. "I'm not sure who's responsible for this arrangement yet; I didn't have a chance to investigate before leaving the city."

She pauses briefly to review the events of the journey in her mind; anything of note? Aside from taking the measure of her traveling companions, not really, and she can share that if he asks about any of them. Her staff deflects a blow aimed at her sternum - it isn't hard to defend herself at this speed, even while talking.

"We traveled east via skyship," she continues, "searching for signs of the target from the air. Two days ago, we were shot out of the sky and engaged a force of Thornsguard led by deathknights - the Black Hand Upon the Throat of the World, the Maiden of the Mirthless Smile, and... Typhon, the Mask's ambassador." There's little point being coy about Black Ice Shadow here, to Chejop Kejak, but old habits die hard. You do not endanger another agent's cover, not when he's a place like that. (And it's theoretically possible that someone is spying on her dreams.) Given that he probably still has custody of Typhon, the slight pause should tell him all he needs to know. "We were able to force them to retreat into the Underworld without losses, but it was a near thing. I can give you more observations on that battle now if you like, or send a written report in the morning."

She retreats a few paces, avoiding an attempt to grasp her hand and draw her into an armlock It's not a subtle style, the one her teacher is showing her, but she can imagine how this might play out if he weren't going slowly to show her the forms. Its strikes are simple, direct, and brutal. It has no need for subtlety; speed and power suffice.

"That battle drew the attention of nearby scouts, who made contact and invited Kharal Zhou, Kharal Ireva, and myself - in the guise of Tepet Xet - to parlay in their main camp. Their leader is the Anathema we were sent to find: Kharal Fire Orchid, a Zenith Caste with a fully trained legion at her back. She has stated her intent to march to Lookshy and catch the Mask's besieging forces between her army and the walls." She launches into a series of measured counterattacks, so that she can observe her teacher's defenses. "She is also... very hostile towards the Immaculate Order and the Realm. The Gold is in contact with her, but I don't know any of the details."

[industrious]

Isa

Some of her blows slip past Chejop's guard - the style is weak in defense, it seems, and Chejop allows the staff to brush against his skin before he moves to counter the next blow.

"I will want that report come the dawn," he says, shifting his weight, resettling into a new stance, a new form, a different style. This one seems far better suited to defense, and Chejop's exaggerated movements seem to snake around Isa's defenses; his hands brush aside wood and flesh to continue forward, sliding and skating slyly by.

"But for now...tell me about the symbol you showed me in Yu-Shan."

Braga

"We don't!" he gasps out, belatedly realizing the implication of his statement. "The Commander! She does it! She stares at it and commands and the creature listens! Standard procedure whenever someone shoots up a red flare!"

The earlier segments of Braga's barrage also catch up to him.

"And I learned my craft from the great Three Stars* himself! I am no village occultist!"

*Braga has not heard of such a person.


"For now?" she repeats. "For now...we can't do anything about Lookshy itself. We cannot yet walk into its gates openly, cannot see the monuments to the battles and campaigns of the distant past. But we can prepare for the day when we come upon the Mask of Winters and break his power, and we can train ourselves to be heroes."

"Have you ever killed a man? Or a woman?"




Zhou and Ireva

She smiles at their banter, their story, and is silent. Lost in memories, at least for a time. Slowly, a wicked smile appears on her worn face.

"Jan was so proud of his darling child - his first real son. I was younger then, newly promoted, and when Jan put you in my care for an evening..."

She continues with the story, in which the infant Dragon-Blood apparently got into all manner of mischief, and then

"...And when he lowered the scanning visor on the warstrider, down tumbled the little Zhou!"

They ride for some time, before they reach a vast cleared area in the middle of the woods (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GsU6difHB9Q&list=PL6A41EBE267C0891C&index=11). With great deliberate speed, the aged Solar dismounts.

"Here," she murmurs. "The battlefield was here. Do you see it?"


Perception+Awareness or Perception+War


The clearing contains some small indents, small holes in the ground perhaps a handspan across. Some of them contain rubble.


The pattern of the grass has grown in such a manner that you can nearly see the men who charged and trampled on it, even after all this time. The twists and turns of the soil show the advances and retreats of the soldiers.


From the positioning of the soldiers, the tactics used...this must have been quite an old battle - First Age, or maybe the Early Shogunate. But even though the trees have grown in, you can see that this had once been the site of a great melee. This was no ordinary battle - this land had been seen as immensely valuable at one point or another; here in the middle of nowhere.


The Importance of the Tattoos

Skandi sees what the others cannot. What the others should not.

The Silver Pact has its secrets, and this is the first. A way to communicate with perfect stealth, to warn and to invite, to declare and to request. A series of carvings in rock and moss and stone and grass, indistinguishable from a wild animals' trail. A language that no human could speak or write down.

Clawspeak. The language that no outsider could be taught.

Skandi sees the markings and he reads the message: an instruction, a command, one of the few the Pact can agree upon. An old phrasing, from the first

The Unblooded is to tell her Story and be given her Form. One must stand for her, and one will scribe. Praise She Who Is Ever-Shifting, that it may be so.

The message continues, giving a time and a place.

[Maugan Ra]

Zhou tolerates the ribbing and the embarassing stories with an air of long-suffering patience, the very picture of the younger generation putting up with the eccentricities of his elders. He occassionally responds to a remark or mutters something vaguely rebellious, but for the most part he is happy to leave this banter to his wife and cousin.

When they arrive at the clearing, he dismounts with slightly less grace than his cousin, before turning experienced eyes upon the beaten earth. Battle is a messy and chaotic affair at the best of times, inevitably leaving its mark on the surroundings regardless of what occurs between the clashing armies, and with practice one can pick them out even years later and reconstruct some semblence of what occured.

"I see... something." He says quietly, studying the open space. "There, that disturbance... battlelines striking each-other for a protracted period. maybe? And there, that's a charge into someone's flanks, though I can't quite tell which side would have done it..."

He frowns. "A sizeable clash, it looks like, not some simple skirmish. But... I can't think of what they might have been fighting over. There's no natural resources nearby, and it's not exactly a major trade route..."

[Aevylmar]

Skandi, Versi, and Braga

It is not until some days after her arrival in camp that Versino sees Skandi in his own person, walking calmly through the streets of the camp to approach her and her father as they walk back from a supper.

He nods politely to both of them. "Braga," he says. "Versi."

Looks directly at Versi. "Do you have a moment? There's a private message I'd like to pass on to you."

[Ifni]

Through The Travail of Ages

His first real son? In contrast to what? Bastards? Nephews? There might be an interesting little insight into Lookshy culture, in that word, if she knew how to interpret it.

Ireva grins at the stories, laughing softly but delightedly at appropriate points. Behind her smile and her occasional questions, she drinks up the memories - the insights into Lookshy and Zhou's upbringing and Fire Orchid's past - like rain on the leaves of a parched plant. Her heart aches with wistfulness, for the lack of her own such stories, and with the long yearning: family, home, children...

Still, she remains alert for signs of trouble - or signs of twitchiness from her unfamiliar horse, more likely if less dangerous. And as they ride she considers the Kazei, and wonders.

If she had been like this the first night, she could have had my sworn loyalty for the asking. All her hopes of family fulfilled, and so easy to slip back into the role she'd played for another charismatic Exalted leader, who'd raised an army from nearly nothing. Maybe it's better this way; she thinks of Xet, and suppresses a wince. She suspects it was not Isa who chose Ireva's cousin as her cover, and didn't it work well to deflect suspicion? And yet defaulting to distrust toward her own kin feels... wrong, unfair, as if she'd be losing something far more precious than safety.

But here and now... which is truth, that night or this morning? Either? Both? She'd been able to read Fire Orchid's emotions; the Zenith had not struck her as very manipulative, although that might just mean she's skillful enough to fool even Ireva's Charms.

Option 1: She is a master manipulator, nothing she says or does can be taken at face value... but then why would she try to alienate me, that first night? For my own good, to try to lower my expectations? To make me look unreliable to my allies, by ensuring I would report an impression that disagreed with their own experiences? But if the latter, why change tack now, why swear to so much more than what I'd asked for? I still do not see how this serves her interests, short or long-term...

Option 2: What I read from her that night was real. Her current behavior might be a facade, an attempt to correct course, which at least makes sense from a self-interested perspective - maybe one of the Gold talked to her afterward, suggested a more conciliatory approach. But she shouldn't be able to hide her true feelings that well...

Could it be today that's her usual personality, and the first night just an aberration, a flashfire eruption? Fury, grief, hatred for an Immaculate, contempt for anyone who'd defend her... all that might provoke unconsidered words, might make a general snarl, We don't need fancy words, and we don't need any special knowledge. If you want to help, all you need to do is march, follow orders, and fight. Might make her meet I want to help, I want you to be able to go home, I want your family to be my family too, and the path to that future runs through your victory with You are a fool. Maybe.

Ireva had learned early to smile and bow while swallowing rage and hate and grief; she's coming to understand that it's hope and love and trust that slide past her defenses like a knife in the night, that betray her to rash action and ill-advised confidences. But Fire Orchid was raised like Zhou, never to know weakness, never to show weakness. If she were a Fire Aspect, would you count it so strange, that she could smile while calling you a fool and try to bend your mind to her service one night, and the next day treat you like a friend or kinswoman, and swear an oath to uphold all your hopes, unsolicited?

Ireva thinks on that question as she rides, hands loose on her horse's reins, letting it follow Fire Orchid's mount.

... yes, actually, I think I would. Maybe it's all explainable, maybe she's starting at shadows, but... this feels off. And the camp was full of creatures of darkness. Some external influence...? She hadn't shown the Kazei her Mind-Cleansing Gem...

Another thought drifts up from the depths, a slow cold current.

Or maybe it's not external. A dramatic change in personality after a night's rest, from scornful and angry and controlling, to calm and wise and willing to listen. What would people think of you, Ireva, if they'd met you for the first time that night in Nexus?

... she is a Solar too. All the Celestial Exaltations...

Someone watching closely would see the Eclipse's shoulders tense; would see her hands on the reins tighten (causing her horse to skip briefly forward), before she forces them to relax.

... if it is the same for her as it is for me... is it the same for others too?

But Isa showed no sign of recognition, when Ireva described the incident in Nexus, offered hypotheses as if the knowledge were wholly new to her - and while Isa is very good at hiding what she thinks, surely she wouldn't have lied about this.

Is it different for different Exaltations? Even if the residue is similar, the power is different, and the nature of the Exaltations, from what Stormwrack said... perhaps they affect human minds in different ways... I should ask Skandi, if the Lunars know of anything like...

Oh.

Do the Lunars know of a twisting in their Exaltations, that can transform them into something alien? Of course they do; she'd even wondered about a connection when Skandi first explained the danger. Raging psychotic monsters - Chimeras - essentially real Anathema... But they have a means to control it, through the tattoos - might that offer hope for others, as well?

Hypothesis: that the residue builds over the life of the Exaltation, corrupting the soul bound to it through some strange resonance, and dissipates with the soul at death. This is why Lytek doesn't think it can have any effect; because he only sees the taint when it is small and quiescent, and no Exalt of the First Age let him study their Exaltation in situ, and since the end of the First Age there have been few opportunities. The progressive deterioration is why Arkadi changed as he did. Perhaps why Chejop changed as he did. For Lunars, it makes them into inhuman raging half-beasts, and shapeshifting accelerates it. For Solars... self-righteous, contemptuous, certain of their authority, and stress triggers episodes. For Sidereals... jaded? Complacent? Hidebound?

Divine law declares that Solars rule, Stormwrack had said. A gift of power, meant to make men and women into ideal kings and queens... and meeting a human soul, forcing it into an archetype of authority and virtue, and then further, distorting it until it breaks. Lunars, gifted with animal nature and shapeshifting power to serve as Stewards of Creation, who if they use that power to its fullest extent become maddened monstrous parodies of beasts. And Sidereals... Viziers... what is the archetype of a seer and advisor gone wrong?

She thinks of Isa's smiling face, in that office in the Forbidding Manse of Ivy, and feels a little sick.

She has Zhou and Isa to ward her, to help her if what happened in Nexus happens again. Fire Orchid has... no one, now. It's still only a guess, only a thought - but worth remembering, she thinks, and worth staying close.

The older Solar's words break her out of her reverie. The Eclipse slides down from her horse, looping the reins around her hand, and studies their surroundings, not quite sure what she's looking for. This clearing was a battlefield, presumably, from Fire Orchid's instructions earlier - bones? Rusted armor? The sun is still shining, and there are birds chirping alarm-calls from the trees, so whatever happened here, it couldn't have been too bad or too recent, not enough to shadow the face of the world.

At Zhou's words she stares at the ground for a moment longer before giving up; whatever traces of ancient tactics are written in the shape of the land, she cannot read them. But for the rest... she looks curiously at Fire Orchid, wondering if she'll supply an answer.

Ireva's firing Mastery of Small Manners as they ride to try to get a sense of Fire Orchid's motivations in the scene / emotional state (if her Manip+Socialize/2 is 3 or lower - but if I remember correctly it worked the first night).

A big chunk of Ireva's theorizing about the Great Curse is totally wrong, of course, and I have no idea OOC if Fire Orchid's behavior the first night was tied to Limit Break, but the pattern seems close enough that she would think about it as a possibility.

And here is my terrible Perception+huh? roll: [roll0]
EDIT: "Look! A tree!"
That would be a botch, although I suppose I could roll a stunt die :smallwink:

[Ascension]

The Thaumaturges

The Solar. Yes, she might be able to command unbound demons. How, Braga can't be certain, but it seems well within the power of the Sun-Chosen. That doesn't, however, excuse leaving the thing in the care of the dangerously incompetent. "Standard procedure," the man says. Has the Commanding Teacher been lucky, or has she already lost thaumaturges to this practice?

"This isn't how it should be done," he states bluntly, "There are rites and rituals to be observed... there are reasons why demon binding is a formulated process, and why it should be left to the Exalted."

He turns to the lead thaumaturge, projecting clear disdain.

"I've never heard of the 'great Three Stars,' but you may have heard of the academy in which I learned my arts. I was trained in the Heptagram itself, under the guidance of the most potent sorcerers of the Realm. My art derives directly from Silur's school, and from the sorceries of Mela and Brigid before her. My right to command demons was won before history began, when the blood of Dragons was shed to win the Primordial War, and sealed by the oaths of surrender the Yozis swore to the Exalted. I know how these things should be done, and this isn't even close."

His eyes narrow. He clenches a fist.

"I don't really care what you and your Commander can do. That it has worked for you so far is immaterial. This isn't right."

He approaches the Erymanthus itself, coming as close as he can to the beast without violating the wards around it, glaring daggers at its perverse form. It takes all his restraint not to strike the beast, not to pour raw Essence into it until its corporeal shape chars, cracks, and falls away.

"Do you have any Dragon-Blooded Outcastes in your troupe?" he asks through clenched teeth.

Braga has gotten the sense that Karal Fire Orchid is not one to be easily dissuaded from any course of action. Even by far better speakers than himself. As much as he hates it, there seems to be only one way to address this travesty.

"If so," he forces himself to say, "send them to me. If not, send your Commander. If you simply must call demons..."

This is it. If he says this, there'll be no going back.

"You need to learn how to do it properly."

Skandi

Braga regards the approach of Skandi the Wolf with some degree of caution. The life he wanted for Versino... peace, safety, a good education... has been falling apart ever since he and his girl met that man (and the Lookshyan "Man of Illusion," but the latter isn't conveniently available to despise). After her recent paranoid outbursts, and her new habit of wearing wings... it seems almost like he's on the verge of losing her entirely. But he can't blame her for wanting to spend time with Skandi... however rough-edged he might be, the Northern barbarian is of her kind. If Braga's going to stay in Versi's life, he's going to have to learn to make some concessions... learn to tolerate the barbarian's company.

So it is that he quickly replies, "Of course we have time," to Skandi's question, with all the hollow geniality a Dynastic upbringing can teach.

[DeafnotDumb]

Ah, that question. Jade breathes in deep, letting her unease at risking discovery stand in for unease at death. "No." She says. "And..."

How will the Lookshy commander react to a refusal to fight? The sensible thing would be to agree to follow any order. But what she said to Zhou hadn't been untrue: murder just wasn't her style. It never had been, not even in self-defence. So far she'd been lucky enough to leave bandits with scars or mislaid memories at worst, nothing more.

"I won't go out to kill for you, Commander." She says, a little afraid. But with firm conviction nevertheless: the commander would dismiss a coward but might at least give respect to a firm pacifist. "I mean, I'll go out into the battlefield if I'm needed. I'll bring water and supplies and carry the wounded and mend the machines and, if our enemy attacks me or our comrades, I will defend us with deadly force if I must. Maybe I'll kill people then. But I won't go out as a soldier, if you see? Not with intent to kill."

Inspiration strikes.

"Not until I can stop lying, stop pretending, and I don't need this little line to mean something. I... hope you understand. It doesn't make me a very good Lookshyian, but I've never been that anyway." She smiles weakly. "Like I said, my heroics are... of a stealthier kind."

[Inspector Valin]

Skandi, Braga and Versi
Versi looks between Braga and Skandi, frowning at the Lunar's arrival. Skandi had been notable by his absence for a little while now. She'd barely noticed, focused on her own concerns, the marching and keeping an eye on Braga (if he wanted her to or not). She and Skandi hadn't really had a chance to talk for a little bit. And a private talk.... the young Lunar glanced behind her, sighing. Skandi wasn't one to talk on that, but she could guess what he was going to say.

"If it's about the wings, I'm just planning to keep them until I can put my disguise back together. I know this isn't subtle, but being able to fly away could be useful if something goes wrong about here."

Sometime Earlier
Versi crept through the camp at night, scowling at her own decision. It was stupid. She shouldn't risk angering Chuzei Zhou, let alone the still distant Fire Orchid who'd already been wound up over their situation. She shouldn't even be here still. Lookshy had plenty of defenders far more capable than her and Braga, they'd come to the wrong place. This wasn't their fight and getting mixed up in... whatever this was could only make things worse.

But that was it. Versi didn't understand this situation. There were massive gaps that still didn't make sense, possibilities and facts that she couldn't form into a clear explanation of what had been going on. How this mission had come about, what the intent of their little group was, and the exact intent of that strange older man whose name she still didn't know. She had too many puzzle pieces, and could barely even glimpse the picture. Braga wouldn't listen to her, Shard was compromized, trying to explain this to Shimoko was risky in the extreme. And the other four... as much as she wanted to trust them had ultimately become one more mystery Versi couldn't understand.

She couldn't work out the answers to all of this, not for sure. But she had to try and explain herself. Just... in case this whole thing was just one long trap that they were all merrily marching straight into. She could see the light still emanating from Fire Orchid's tent. Lifting the flap gently, she coughed as she stepped through.

"Kazei, ma'am? Can we talk?"

[Aevylmar]

We have time. Of course. The possibility of Braga ever interpreting a private message as meaning, say, not including him - well, that never crossed his mind.

"It isn't about the wings," he says, talking jovially as they move to a quieter place. "Well, not directly. It's about the fact that we'd rather like it if you could have your wings appear and disappear without good odds of your melting into a puddle of slime."

[industrious]

"Mmm."

Fire Orchid's lips thin out considerably. When she chooses her words, they come out one at a time, each syllable drawn through prison bars of white ivory and gates of pale thin flesh.

"This isn't a joke, Ayesha," she says, moving closer, eyes narrowed. "I have neither the time nor the inclination for your little games."


Versino

"Hmmm?"

The grey-haired Solar nods as her eyes gaze upon the Travelers'.

"Hello little Anathema," she says with a tired smiles and a weary humor. A wrinkle at the corner catches the light from Kharal Fire Orchid's forehead just so. "And please. If you're as young as your father tells me, you can call me Fire Orchid."

She gestures towards one of the cushions, as the older woman puts the final touches of sealing wax on the scroll.

The Thaumaturges

The man's mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. Perfectly in time with each change, the leader takes a step back, shrinks in a little on himself.

No thaumaturge did not know of the Heptagram.

"No, sir," he manages to squeak out. "I'll send a messenger to her directly, sir!"

The time between the messenger leaving the tent and the arrival of the Commander passes slowly. Everyone is tense, frozen, sweat beading down their foreheads. IN the middle of the circle, the demon runs a thick brown-pink tongue across his lips, the appendage languishing over each millimeter of flesh.

"Chozei," the voice of the Commander says behind him. "Is there a problem with my thaumaturges?"

Through the Travail of Ages

"They came ten thousand strong," the aged Solar says quietly. "This forest was not here then; it was a great plain and there" she points into the distance "was a great manse, a fortress forged of gleaming alloy. The defenders held for as long as they could, but were overrun; the manse was taken and sacked; the dead were left to rot under the gaze of the Sun. Five, maybe six hundred years ago."

Kharal Fire Orchid walks towards the clearing as if it were a temple; she takes the surroundings in with reverent gaze, and nods.

"I was here."

[Ifni]

Through the Travail of Ages

"Your Exaltation wasn't bound away from the world, then," Ireva says quietly, walking over to join the other Solar, but halting a respectful step away. "I remember fragments of the First Age, and what history and legend call the Great Uprising. But not what came after, until this life."

She looks around, trying to see what Fire Orchid sees - but there is only a pleasant forest clearing, quiet in the morning light. What would it be like, to stand once more in the chamber where Arkadi died?

Dragons willing, I'll never know. Let that past bury its dead.

"Your past incarnation was among the defenders, Kazei?" It's a guess, but held for as long as they could suggests a certain sympathy, and they came ten thousand strong... doesn't sound like she was with the attackers, at least.

Five or six hundred years ago - the Uprising was earlier, from what she's heard. The founding of the Scarlet Dynasty, the defeat of the raksha, maybe?

[Ascension]

The Thaumaturges

"Kazei," Braga acknowledges, saluting the commander, a bit more crisply than the last time he did so. His resolve almost falters as he faces her, though... her manner is intimidating, to say the least. He does not relish being forced to question her, but he can hardly deny that there's a problem after he's had her summoned here.

"Their understanding is incomplete, ma'am, but that is not the problem," he begins. "The problem lies with your... Well, with your policies, ma'am. With all due respect."

His eyes drop to her feet. He can't do this looking straight at her, he simply can't. He tries to remember what it was like in the Realm, where even the mightiest generals know to defer to graduates of the Heptagram on matters of demonology, but the truth of the matter is that no great generals consulted with him then. This uncomfortable experience is wholly new to him. The words come, but haltingly and artlessly, the confidence he had shown in speaking with the chief thaumaturge having entirely evaporated.

"Relatively safe handling of demons... and it truly is only relatively safe, mind you... depends on careful observation of certain rites and rituals... and I mean sorcerous arts, not thaumaturgy. Nor, well, nor Solar magics either, ma'am. It's written in the surrender oaths of the Yozis. If you really think you need to call demons, it ought to be done correctly. Through sorcery."

He forces himself to look at her again, trembling a little with anticipation of what he might see in her face.

"I can teach you. And it would be safer, more reliable, and longer-lasting than this crude thaumaturgy."

The Lunars

Braga sighs internally. This again. This superstitious paranoia of Versino turning into a beast, or now a "puddle of slime."

"And why is that supposed to be a threat?" he asks, unable to keep a tinge of annoyance out of his voice (and unable to keep that voice from interjecting into the conversation), "There's no record of such occurrences in the writings of and about Stewards of the First Age, none that I have found. Why would the Chosen of Luna be imperiled by their own powers? I still say that's the kind of story Immaculate missionaries would invent to keep townsfolk scared of 'bestial Anathema.'"

[Aevylmar]

Skandi presses his hands against his temples.

"Braga," he says. "Do we need to get Ireva and have her use her lie-detection charms and oathbinding? Because I'm perfectly willing to if it will get you to please trust the person who is a Lunar now, and who has been a Lunar for a great many years, and who has talked to Lunars old and young, over records that may or may not have been altered in the last several thousand years."

He sighs.

'"More to the point, that was a danger which Versino has been offered a way to solve. The message I'm passing on is this is this. The Unblooded' - that's you - 'is to tell her Story and be given her Form' - that means go through a ritual summary of your life and whatnot, and then be given magical shaping-protection tattoos. 'One must stand for her,' - that's me - 'and one will scribe.' That's the other Lunar, the Loremaster, whomever that may be."

[Maugan Ra]

Through the Travail of Ages

"They came ten thousand strong," the aged Solar says quietly. "This forest was not here then; it was a great plain and there" she points into the distance "was a great manse, a fortress forged of gleaming alloy. The defenders held for as long as they could, but were overrun; the manse was taken and sacked; the dead were left to rot under the gaze of the Sun. Five, maybe six hundred years ago."

Kharal Fire Orchid walks towards the clearing as if it were a temple; she takes the surroundings in with reverent gaze, and nods.

"I was here."

"No burial rites?"

It is, perhaps, a strange thing for Zhou to focus on, out of all the myriad possible implications in Fire Orchid's story, but it is one that resonates with him all the same. Respect for a dead opponent is one of the key virtues drilled into graduates of Lookshyan academies. It is a tradition born of both Honour and pragmatism - no one benefits from the land behind their army being overrun by a horde of hungry ghosts,

"Six centuries ago, near the founding of Lookshy... I cannot think what foe might have campaigned in such a fashion." He murmurs softly, half to himself. "Wyld Barbarians, perhaps? Certainly there would be plenty, in the wake of the Crusade..."

[Inspector Valin]

Versi, Braga and Skandi
Versi acted as she often had these last few days. She stayed silent, watching the two adults converse and thinking to herself. The young Lunar looked between the two of them as Braga interjected, frowning slightly as she shook her head. She waited for Skandi to finish what he'd come here fore, his message from the Silver Pact, before speaking up, looking towards Braga, her tone...gentler than it had been recently. This situation was serious, in more than one way. "I did feel something, when I... shifted, I guess. Kind of like a spark, a little bit of essence inside of me, but distinct from me, growing stronger each time. Weak for the moment, but..."

Versi broke away from her train of thought, humming to herself briefly before looking back to the Wolf. "That's what the tattoos are for. To stabilize that, right? Dampen the Exaltation a little, make shifting as many times as I want safe?" It fit the theory and had been what she'd assumed both from Skandi's past descriptions and her own experiance. Looking down towards the ground, Versino chuckled a little. "And they come complete with a debt to both you and the Lunar who affixes those tattoos. Because that safety amounts to saving my life, and that's how Lunar society works. Always honour your debts." The last few statements are not questions exactly, Skandi had outlined the basics of Lunar debts before, but the young traveller looked up towards her Elder, curiously. She needed to know that she'd understood this.

Versi and Fire Orchid
"I... don't really know how old I am, ma'am. But thank you."

Versi took the seat, smiling slightly nervously at the word Anathema. I'm not that. Not even like that. No matter who says it, or how it's meant, it's not true. Still, no sense in getting worked up about it. The other matter was weighing on Versi's mind. "I just... " The youth sat there for a while, not able to progress past that easily. But after a few seconds, and a deep breath, she begun. "There's some strange things about our mission out here. And I wanted to try and explain some of them to you. Because they might be important."

Versi closed her eyes, the young Lunar visualizing people and events as they had played out. The briefing, their time aboard the Frostwing. One thing after another that in retrospect had left her ill at ease. "Our mission was set up by an older man, I think. I call him the Justicar. His hair was a little grey here and there, but he still seemed very confident. He didn't tell me or Braga about Tepet Xet's presence. Before our mission out here, I accused Bright Shard of being Anathema directly to him, describing shape-changing magic she'd used that dwarfed Terrestrial Sorcery. He didn't react even a little to that, he still sent her on the mission and didn't seem to care about this point. I'm as sure as I can be that Bright Shard reports to him, and through him to whoever sent us out here. And I'm pretty certain that Tepet Xet is also some sort of spy. Perhaps working for the Justicar, or at least known to him."

The young Lunar frowned, closing her eyes whilst thinking back. Braga had laughed off her earlier theory, and Versi still had no proof Sidereals even existed beyond Skandi's word. Best to take this a step at a time. Slowly, she brought a hand up, straightening her unkempt hair as she continued. "She was talking to Ireva after the battle. Both of them were speaking Old Realm fluently, out of earshot of the others. Xet claimed in the past that she hadn't studied enough to learn even the basics of the Immaculate Styles... but she's familiar with the tongue of the First Age? And can speak it like she's a goddess herself?" Plus there was the fact that she'd had an easy chance to kill Versi and hadn't taken it... but that was something even now the young warrior was a touch embarrased about to confess to easily. Though Fire Orchid might detect a slight reddening of Versi's cheeks as the memory crossed the young Lunar's mind.

[DeafnotDumb]

Ahha, how very interesting. She was into something big here! So, how to proceed?

Well, first step, don't ask "Ayesha who?" That was kind of a giveaway. Try to work out from context who this woman is.

Powerful enough to have the Commander at her beck and call, and mysterious enough to constantly play games with her. Probably willing to kill, from the context of the conversation. Almost certainly not an inferior and - bless heaven! - likely a woman who regularly engaged in strange behaviour. How to react?

Jade is not a strong woman, but in a situation like this the physiology is far more important than muscle. Softly but suddenly, the grip of Shard's hands within Orchid's stiffens, no longer the grateful petitioner but the stern superior. The Commander sees the scales fallen from Shard's eyes, now hard and flinty and unamused, and the conwoman nods the mildest concession. Not a private conversation she mouths.

Play along. She commands.Plausible deniability.

She undoes the grip, finally breaking the commanding grip and becoming Bright Shard again, searching for something to write on. She pulls out a bamboo scroll and a carving knife, and etches out a brief message. Hm. Wasn't there some stories about the power of names...?

"I have a message for you. If that's okay?" Bright Shard apologizes. "It's from a friend like... me."

She hands over the scroll. 'DON'T SPEAK MY NAME TODAY' is written on it. 'Ayesha' taps the message with the hilt of her knife and hands it over, indicating the start of a hidden conversation and her irritation at the commander's faux pas, and waits with sharp eyes that do not match the rest of her face.

[Ascension]

The Lunars

Braga bites back a bitter question about just how and why Lunar oral history is supposed to be superior to written records in reliability, given all the faults of human memory, when Versi surprises him with confirmation that she has in fact felt the effect that Skandi keeps talking about. That raises a whole crop of new questions, of course... if Lunar Exaltation is truly flawed, when and how did it develop that flaw? Do similar dangers lurk in other Exaltations? Could all the tales of Anathema have a grounding in fact?

No, he can't go that far. To accept that would invalidate all his choices since meeting Versino, and all the secrets of the oldest lore, all those ancient whispers of what the First Age of men had been like before it fell into darkness and into death. So the Chosen of Luna have a problem. It must be of more recent vintage... perhaps even the fruit of some terrible scheme to justify the villification of the Anathema.

This subject calls for further research.

In the meantime, he finally contents himself with silence. Versi is asking the right questions... he raised her well enough for that.

[Ifni]

(The following conversations occur the evening of the day that Xet and Fire Orchid exchanged oaths)

Confession
It had been a peaceful walk through the camp until a woman had descended on top of him like a sack of very clingy potatoes. Zhou is a handsome enough man that this is not an unprecedented occurrence, but it is certainly bizarre when that woman is apparently Bright Shard.

"Dear Chuzei," she trills, "do I have something to tell you!"

There's something... off here. Whoever it is looks like Bright Shard, to be sure, but it's somebody who's copied the looks and forgot to put in the manner. Where Bright Shard has a personal space that barely goes past her skin, this woman's is large enough for her to risk throwing an arm around her commanding officer's shoulder. Where Bright Shard's femininity is quiet and shy with the rare bubbly giggle, this one is as expansive as one of those expensive Realm perfumes that can invade neighboring countries. And, of course, the voice is wrong. Far too boldly cheerful. All in all -

The woman notices her arm on the Chuzei's shoulder, retracts it, and all of a sudden becomes Bright Shard, shy, diffident Dragonblooded, once again.

"I think we should probably do this someplace private?" she asks. "And you can get your wife to test my statements, if you want. Is she nearby?" The woman cranes her head, looking for the man's better half.

"No," Zhou says slowly, gradually dispelling the tension that had gripped his entire frame at the sudden ambush. "She's taking care of something else right now. But I suppose I have a few moments to talk."

He crosses his arms and studies the... well, what precisely she is remains up for debate. "Not many places one can expect privacy in a military camp. Even a tent pretty much relies on the politeness of your neighbors. Unless you want to find the perimeter of the camp, the best solution I have is to keep your voice low and walk while you talk."

Bright Shard nods and entwines her arm with Zhou's as she walks along. "You'll have to pardon me," she says. "I'm not too used to confessing, so expect a few slips here and there." Carefully, she leads the Chuzei away from his quiet walk to the louder surroundings of the heart of the camp, where their conversation will struggle to be overheard.

"Well," she starts, "you've probably worked out that I'm a spy." It had taken rather some consideration before going with this, but... there was lying to protect your skin, and there was lying to the line of defense against the Mask. Doing the latter risked eventually failing at the former. Without the bulwark of Lookshy against his invasion, the Scavenger Lands would be... unpleasant.

This meant that, well... she had to be careful. To try and deceive the Chuzei about nothing important. It meant not lying, as such, but saying the truth in such a way that no one would draw the right conclusions about her.

"I currently work for the man whose appearance I assumed on board the Frostwing," she says, "the one who made your face go into a really funny expression." She smirks at him. "I know him as Ren Xuhuan. He commanded me to spy on this group - I took that as an order to test and probe you, see how good and loyal a Chuzei the Anathema-lover was, pardon the hypocrisy. That bit was my own initiative: he was much more interested in Versi and Braga."

She navigates him around a fire, where some soldiers are being more boisterous than soldiers usually are, and glares one off with the information that this is her honey. "I'll imagine you'll want to contact him right now," she murmurs, "but before you do listen. One: I used to have a Jade Chakram before he took it and replaced it with the weapon of a Solar: hardly helpful. Two: I received barely more briefing than what you told me as my Chuzei. And three: I'm a far better saboteur than a spy. At first I thought his orders were an excuse to send a saboteur to destroy this general without actually saying so, but I'm suspecting he just wished to be rid of me."

She shrugs. "This doesn't mean he's a traitor to Lookshy, I'll admit. A freelancer in this game often gets burned for whatever reason. Feel free to confirm with him who I am... but please give me warning before you do. I don't trust him..."

She stops and takes her arm away. They're standing in the shadow of a tent, just two friends, perhaps two lovers, perhaps two comrades, having a quiet little chat. "...which puts me at your command, I suppose, Chuzei. Do you think you have any use for a irredeemable liar with utterly perfect hair?" She holds up her hands. "No rush. This must be rather sudden for you."

"Hmm," Zhou says thoughtfully. "Typically, one would not say 'I am an irredeemable liar' when trying to get someone to trust you. Well, unless you were shooting for the 'surprisingly honest' angle, anyway."

He sighs. "Still, that makes an unfortunate amount of sense. To me, Ren Xuhuan is known as Teresu Xan, a member of the intelligence directorate. His actual name is probably something else entirely. From what I've seen of him, I can easily believe that he would press-gang an outsider into working for him. What his aims are... well, I have very little hope of working those out, and frankly he's been irritating enough that I've stopped caring and am back to using my own initiative for a lot of thing."

At this point he sweeps his eyes up and down the self-proclaimed spy in an assessing fashion, lips quirking slightly as he notes that the comment about the hair was actually accurate. "Well, if we're shooting for honesty right now... what can you do? I'm assuming some level of craftsmanship, since trying to pass yourself off as one without knowing anything at all seems slightly foolish."

The spy shrugs. "Irredeemable liar is what I am, Chuzei, in the same way as being a soldier makes you a killer. How we use these things is what makes us good or bad - otherwise, it's just what we do." In answer to Zhou's question, she gets out something from her robes, a series of brightly coloured tubes.

"These are the flares the army uses," she says. "They signal ambushes or advancing enemies. Red for Anathema, white for Immaculates, various other combinations for other things... and the green one is only to be lit once a password is given and I still don't know what it does." She puts the tubes back away. "That, I hope, demonstrates my pickpocketing abilities and how a good lie can get people to tell me what I want. What else..."

Her finger taps her chin. "This army is organized among standard lines - Fangs, Talons, what have you, with a changing location for their armoury. Quite safe. They're short on metal for arrowheads and the like, but they're good on money and food... which is odd, because nobody seems to be seeing enough foraging or supply carts for what they get. The commander is much loved and respected and probably misses her husband very much: I do have a plan that involves impersonating the man and using that to unbalance her..."

She trails off, getting a good, long look at where Zhou's expression is headed, and clears her throat.

"... so, not that plan. Are we cooperating with her now, or...? Because I've heard she loathes Immaculates, and that and the white flare makes me very worried for the state of our prettiest Immaculate. Courting is difficult with a headless woman."

She frowns.

"What else? I can change to look like whoever I want, pick a pocket or open a lock with ease, make passable forgeries, hold a crowd attentive or angry or sad with a tune or a word, meddle with memories and seduce whoever I like, if I don't mind the attention. I'm also generically fabulous," she finishes with a smile. "And, yes, craft, though it's more of a hobby than a calling. I'm not very good at humility, though. It would just be dishonest."

She smirks. "So, that's what's been happening with me. What frenzied adventures have you gotten up to?"

"Oh, the usual. Negotiating with powerful people, trying to get them on-side for saving my city and then the world, that sort of thing," Zhou says simply. "Xet should be fine. She's had to swear a binding oath not to harm or undermine this army or Lookshy, but in return the General has promised not to harm her or work attack the Realm. Which is probably about the best we can hope for, really."

A pause. "On which note... yes, we're cooperating now, and I know that's in violation of our orders. Several reasons for that one, most notably being that this army is en route to support Lookshy against the Mask and we need every bit of help we can get. There's also the fact that, well... whatever name she uses here, the General was born Kharal Fire Orchid of Lookshy. Family is... kind of a big thing back home."

He crosses his arms again, a thin smile on his face. "Moving past that... you aren't Dragon-Blooded, are you." It's not really a question. "It hardly matters to me, since my wife and the General are both Solars and I apparently have two Lunars under my nominal command already, but it would be good to know the truth."

The spy nods understandingly on the subject of family. Her experience with relatives, it says, has not been pleasant.

"Truth? My dear, I did mention the irredeemable liar tag, didn't I?" Shard holds the expression for three seconds before shrugging. "Solar," she states, trying to work out if it's Versi or Ireva who's the other one. "I glow gold. How did you end up marrying an Anathema? That sounds..." her nose twitches. "... like a hideously bad play, honestly."

"But back onto the all-devouring subject of me... how much of this do you wish to share with the rest of the group?" She shrugs. "It might cause division, or distraction, and Xet, I note, is certainly spying for the Realm in some fashion... too truthful would be unwise. And, perhaps more importantly..." her fingers drum out a little tune. "... I tend to have to plan on the spot in my job. I won't be able to come to you for verification. So is there anything I should try and avoid doing, up to and including the obvious? I'd hate to cause a big explosion only to realize you wanted one no more than ten meters in diameter."

She holds up a finger to forestall his opinions. "As for my line... spy and saboteur yes, but not an assassin. I simply wouldn't be good at it. I'd advise you go to the wolf for that."

"Politics, more than a play, really. We were in Yu-Shan at the time - very pretty place, buildings literally built of gold and Orichalcum, the whole works. Anyway, a member of the Bureau of Destiny told us under truth-detecting Magic that Lookshy's fate would be considerably improved if we got married." Zhou looks embarrassed for a moment or two. "I... may also have needed a way to dodge the consequences of being rather rude to several divinities of rather intimidating power. Interesting discovery - gods can actually be kind of *******s, if they decide they don't like you."

He shrugs. "The rest of the group knows most of this already, to one degree or another. So, I don't much care how much you share with them. As for Xet..." Here his smile is actually rather close to a smirk. "There is rather more to Tepet Xet than is apparent to even your discerning eyes. I'm not honestly that concerned about her spying... other possibilities, sure, but on that one I feel fairly safe."

"That does lead neatly onto the next answer though. I'm quite sure there will be other spies in this camp - you don't get an army this large without someone unreliable slipping in somewhere, or otherwise observing it. So, as a general guideline, try and find out who that is and who they are reporting to. Some evidence would be nice as well, no I don't care if you have to steal it so long as it's genuine. Try to avoid burning anything down or doing anything that would seriously hamper the army as a whole, or if you must, make sure there's either a solid justification behind it or no proof that we were responsible."

"I..." Shard's face goes through an interesting number of expressions as she hears the story behind the marriage, starting from confusion and circling around the whole gamut before ending up at confusion again. "... see."

Apparently these people had been through rather more than she'd anticipated. She should probably not underestimate them. Therefore, she should take on the role of slightly overwhelmed Chozei, which apart from the 'Chozei' bit wouldn't need any deception.

She rubs her lips together in thought. "Do you ever feel," she confesses, "that you've just wandered on stage at the tail end of the third act of a very long play, only you haven't got a script or a cue and you suspect that half of the actors are working to different lines anyway? Because I do."

She breathes in deep, reestablishing her usual irrelevance. "Well, it's good to hear that my affections for dear Xet were in good taste. Is it against army etiquette to ask for courting tips? As for your orders -"

She grins, and pulls in close.

"-soon, prepare to meet Rising Echo, superb pickpocket, marvellous thief and decidedly subpar spy. If they don't attract the attention you want I am somebody's monkey. Not sure whose. Probably the Empress's, the way things are going."

She taps around her feet for a moment, business conversation exhausted. "So... Yu-Shan? I have to hear what that is like. It is decididly unfair that you got to do and I did not." She wags a finger. "Decadence is much more suited to Lookshy outcasts than Lookshy captains, I'll have you know."

"Yu-Shan." Zhou confirms with a nod. "City of the Gods and all that. As it turns out, when people are powerful and don't need food or sleep, they become rather obsessed with politics. Well, social maneuvering, rumour-mongering, all that. And apparently one of the biggest factors in that game is 'who has the nicest palace'."

He shakes his head. "It was very beautiful, but by the Dragons, it was a pit of snakes. We had people who claimed they would love to help against the Mask, but were afraid it would get them accused of treason. It's probably a good thing we left when we did - I might have burned the place down out of sheer irritation otherwise."

A chuckle. "Still, you probably could get there yourself if you wanted. There's a gate not too far from Lookshy. Of course, it's guarded by a squad of giant lion made out of Orichalcum, who appear to basically be the magical police force. I know you said you were good at sneaking, but..."

He trails off, and surely the Lookshyan officer is too straight-laced to be honestly baiting her like this...

Shard raises and eyebrow. When this does not prove sufficient for her purposes, she raises it further. "Really, Chuzei?" she manages. "On me? Now that is blatant manipulation without even a whiff of Hesiesh's smoke to help you along. A nest of vipers should have prepared you better than that - you must have got out right on time."

She sighs and stretches. "Ah, Yu Shan. How grand you make it sound. Well, when the Mask is gone, my treatment means I no longer have much tying me to Lookshy..."

and then there's a sudden right angled turn into a different topic, forcing Zhou's gears to jump to keep up.

"...unlike you, officer I-married-an-Anathema-no-mind-control-I-swear. I'm thinking you and your wife will need more than my cooking lessons to get a good impression from your family, let alone the city. Please tell me you've got a plan there."

"Of course I have a plan. Unfortunately, I get the distinct impression that telling you about it will only encourage you to start making suggestions." Zhou says dryly. "Also, that's thoroughly personal business, and I do remain your superior officer on paper at the very least."

"My dear Chuzei, I will find out," Shard lines out. "The question you want to ask yourself is: do I want her to find out via me telling her, or do I want to find out through explosions, drink, drama and far, far too much lying? I am already in the position of giving your wife cooking lessons so she can impress your family. Finding more from there will not be difficult."

"Ireva was a resistance fighter. She knows how to resist interrogation," Zhou responds blandly. "And if she wants to tell you, that is her decision. Seeing as we didn't exactly write our plans down anywhere, having one of us tell you is about the only way you're going to find out."

A pause. "Which, I reiterate, is not something you should be trying, as it is none of your business. Beyond simple courtesy, I am a scion of Hesiash and a veteran military officer. Prying into my personal life is an excellent way to get yourself set on fire. Or for me to make sure all your alcohol explodes, whichever seems more convenient at the time."

Bright Shard pouts. "I knew there was a reason I preferred not to tell people my plans," she mutters, and frowns as a series of words sound off in her left ear, silent to everybody else. She takes a moment to listen, head cocked to the side.

"If you'll pardon me, Chuzei," she says, "I think that was your wife calling. Was there anything else you wanted to speak about before I go?"

Zhou shakes his head. "I'm sure I'll end up regretting this conversation to some extent," he says dryly. "But no, that is all."

In Sake Veritas
In the falling shadows of early evening, Ireva wanders between the neat rows of tents. Fire Orchid's troops are efficient and well-organized, and the evening camp has taken shape with remarkable speed, although fires are still being built and trenches are still being dug. It's been a long day on a short night's sleep, and it's not over yet, but at least it's been an improvement on the previous day.

She'd sent the message a few minutes earlier: Shard, Ireva here. I just escaped from sword practice: want to continue your Riverspeak lessons? Sake provided. Meet me at the command tent.

It is not long before there is the sound of running feet from near the command tend, hastily slowing to a respectful crawl just before the corner. Bright Shard turns into view, greeting Ireva with a smile and a wave.

"Hello," she says in accented Riverspeak. "Sake, yes? Should I teaching... be teaching cooking also?"

She frowns. "Also, also, also..." WIth a sigh she switches to Low Realm.

"What's 'as well' in Riverspeak?" she asks, reaching for the Sake. Ah, if only she had a game to play while learning this - that would make memorization much easier...

"Teke," Ireva answers in Low Realm, "but the sentence structure is a bit different, as well." She holds the sake bottle away from Bright Shard, with a teasing grin. "Let's go find somewhere to sit down. We can build a fire, if you think you can actually make those military rations tasty."

There's not much privacy in the camp, but still, a Solar - or two - sitting on her own is unlikely to be bothered. Ireva waves off a few invitations to join fireside groups with a smile and a quick chatter of Riverspeak; Shard can follow about a third of it.

The Eclipse eventually finds a relatively open spot near one of the woodpiles, pulls a couple of logs over for them to sit on (not small logs, either - the diminutive woman is surprisingly strong, at least if you don't know what she is), and hands Shard the sake bottle as she begins to assemble a pile of kindling and sticks for a fire. The paper label wrapped around the bottle is... written in Riverspeak, unfortunately.

"How has your day been?" Ireva asks slowly, in simple Riverspeak, as she extracts a flint and steel from her pockets and begins trying to start the fire.

"Has been..." Shard starts, stealing the words from Ireva before frowning and having to think up her own. "...excited. Lot of talking, looking, of, of, of...." Shard winces, and lets out a string of Riverspeak names of vegetables and cooking utensils in what is a very polite series of curses. "Pardon my," she says, and negotiates with a nearby soldier in pidgin Riverspeak and Realm for their pots and pans. After having satisfied the woman that she'll get a share of the meal, she returns to the conversation, putting the pan on the fire to preheat.

"...busy!" She exclaims at last, keeping back from speaking Realm through sheer force of will. "Busy with a lot of talking and looking and searching. How was yours? Did you talk to..." Shard's eyes dart as she searches for the riverspeak for 'Commander' and then meekly surrendered. "...big vegetable?"

Ireva laughs out loud. "I would love to see her face if you called her that," she says in Low Realm, and then switches back to Riverspeak. "I spoke with the Commander, yes, in the morning and a little later in the day. Busy day for me as well."

She takes out her ration pack and sets it near the now-happily-burning fire, with a faintly hopeful look at the pan, and then sits down on the other log.

"You are a very interesting person, Bright Shard," she says, in fluent High Realm. "I heard a bit about your chat with Zhou earlier today - mostly, admittedly, by eavesdropping on gossiping soldiers. And after that fight with the deathknights, well, I think we both know what the other is." She smiles, and pokes the fire with a stick. "But inveterate curiosity is one of my besetting flaws, and I think we might have that in common."

"So, if we wanted to make this lesson more interesting... want to play a game? I'll guess something that I think is true about you, and you can tell me if I'm right or wrong, or choose not to answer. If I'm right or you don't answer, you have to take a drink. If I'm wrong, I have to take a drink. And then you get a turn, same rules. Or you can go first, if you like." She grins. "And we keep going until we run out of sake or one of us calls a halt." She leaves unmentioned, for now, the extra bottles of sake in her pockets.

The shy, diffident Bright Shard looks at the drink and, with surprising speed, takes it and slathers a bit of sake onto the pot before setting it on the ground between the women. Then she grabs the military rations and, with evident distaste at the contents, begins disassembling it and throwing the choice bits onto the pot. Soon there is a popping stir fry right next to the game.

Shard takes the bottle and takes a small swing. "Not Dragonblooded," she says in timid High Realm, safe from the surrounding ears. "That's... correct."

She points at Ireva, remembering the details. There's only two options here, and since there's no visible fangs or fur... "Sun child." She guesses in Riverspeak, and pushes the bottle along.

The woman's slim and small, and Jade can make her waste time on obvious questions. This shouldn't be difficult at all.

Much, much later, hungover Future Jade will look back and curse sober Past Jade for her foolishness, but such is life.

Ireva smiles, and inclines her head to the other woman, and takes a swig.

"Yes. The term is Solar Exalt," she says in the same language, and then switches back to High Realm, keeping her voice soft: "You as well." She pushes the bottle back to Shard. Start with easy questions, to put her at her ease, let her think she has the situation under control.

The thoughts going through Shard's mind are initially the same, but her earlier conversation with Zhou rises in her memory and raises a few flags. This is no mere diplomat - this is a woman who has travelled to Yu Shan and, apparently, engaged in a marriage for the purpose of prophecy and politics. Treat her as if she was better than you.

And from that, remember the adage - the best fears not the second-best but the amateur, for they have no idea what the fool will do.

Hm....

Shard gives attention to the food before returning the drink, letting her mind work over the information she has. What would surprise, be different... Thorns past too touchy, marriage too confident...

There has to be something.

"Not an only child." She murmurs. It's a safe bet, given the family dynamics of practically everywhere, and will give her a chance to think of something truly workable in the meantime.

Ireva blinks, and studies the other woman more closely. Of everything she could have asked she chose to go with that? She's either fishing, or... she has some hint of Ireva's background. The latter wouldn't be too hard, if she's been talking to Skandi or Zhou. If she's from a Realm satrapy, or the Isle, herself...

Interesting.

She nods friendly acknowledgement to the other woman, murmurs, "That's right," and takes another swallow of sake.

"Your service to Lookshy is not by your own choice," she says after a moment, in High Realm.

Jade hides her frown. Has her delaying action accidentally touched a nerve? Well, the only thing to do is to go with it and see what she can find out, and hint supernatural investigation skills while pleading supernatural luck...

Then there's how to answer the question. This is one of the few where the answer of Bright Shard, spy, would differ from that of Jade Lotus, conwoman. The simple thing would be to refuse the drink, speak, and let her disguise defeat the truth telling ears... but there is something sacred about these games to those who've lived on the streets. A compromise, then. Only one, diplomat girl - you'll have to give something in return if you want another.

Bright Shard remains tight-lipped and then, with an enigmatic smirk that is unlike the woman, picks up and drinks. She does not elaborate whether it is an admissible or a refusal to speak.

"Family," she speaks again. The drink seems to be loosening her up. "E... E... strangered to them. Separated from them." She smiles lightly. "Lonely carrot."

"Carrot, really? Damn, I thought I'd at least rate a comparison to a shallot." Ireva takes the bottle, studies the label for a moment, and then drinks. "Good guess, though."

It really is rather good sake. She's glad she stocked up before leaving Nexus. It's amazing what people will say when alcohol has loosened their tongues, and there seems to be a certain prideful resistance among certain Guildsmen to the prospect that a five-foot-tall woman might outdrink them.

And no denial, good. She was already fairly sure of that from the results of her truth-reading back in Lookshy, but now Shard knows that she knows. And her answer suggests a certain commitment to honesty in this interaction. Well, all right, that last part might just be wishful thinking.

So what's Lookshy's leverage, to force a Solar to serve them? Blackmail, threats to Shard or those close to her? Maybe step away from this for now, try to determine more of her history...

"You grew up in a satrapy of the Realm," she guesses, and this one is truly a guess.

Shard nods her head and pushes back the bottle, downing more. She hopes that the other woman is starting to feel the effects, because she knows it's not long before she will. Surely... she's smaller than even than Jade, and probably without the same appetite.Yup, no problem there.

Family, family, where to go... the food, first. A burnt meal does no one any good. From her robes the conwoman produces a small bottle of spice paste and adds it, stirring with her left hand while thinking on the question. Anathema, left in Thorns, pretending to be a Dynast...

...that might be something. Jade rarely pretended to be a Dynast when other options were there, and Ireva had mentioned some sort of surname. A mask often told you something about the face that wore it.

"Dynast." She guesses. It's a loan word, and Shard corrects the Riverspeak-free sentence into something more educating. "From a Dynast family?"

So not from the Isle itself. That... could be good or bad. Ireva goes over to offer a hand with the food - "Do you need flour? Other spices?"

At Shard's question, she picks up the bottle and takes a drink, but offers no response. Of course, that's essentially as good as an affirmation in this context. There wasn't any scorn or hatred in the word Dynast that she could hear, but Shard might just be good at hiding her feelings.

If she's asking these questions... maybe she hasn't talked to Skandi or Zhou. Maybe this is all new deduction. Am I that obvious? She suppresses a faint shiver at the thought. The sake is providing a pleasant warmth, like a banked fire, but her head still feels clear, for the moment.

Shard had said earlier that she'd served Satrapy Dynasts, but could that be trusted? A skilled cook, a singer, a crafter better than any Lookshyan sorcerer-engineer, a master of disguise... She'd known the constraints on an Immaculate of the second level. But she'd also known how to cook Realm street food. Poverty, or wealth? What had she left behind, when she left her home, and had that departure been due to her Exaltation or something else?

There is an... edge, to Shard, buried beneath the shyness and eagerness to please. An audacity, as well, as shown by her attempt to pose as Teresu Xan. A woman of many masks. Is that something she learned as a Solar, or something that predates it? In some ways, Shard reminds her achingly of lost friends in Thorns, names only she now remembers - but is that because she grew up in the same sort of environment, or because she became a fugitive after her Exaltation?

Take a guess. Worst case, you have to take a drink and she feels more confident.

"You, on the other hand, grew up in poverty," she says blandly, watching the other Solar for a reaction. If her first guess is wrong, if Shard's family was wealthy and she was forced to leave them behind, there will surely be at least a little resentment or outrage there. Or amusement, depending.

Shard shoos away the amateur from her food, feeling her head at once tightening and lightening. She risks a glance over to see how the drink is affecting Ireva, but the damnable woman seems to be sitting up fine. What, three sips, and this? It was potent drink...

The head is getting worse. It is as much to alleviate this feeling as to admit to the truth that Shard takes the drink and sips it. It's probably not so bad - she was planning to stick close to the truth anyway. She can always create a teenager adoption from rich Dynasts later if she likes...

...urgh, why would she think that would work? Drat the drink. She needs a surprise, now.

The problem with Jade's mind, from the viewpoint of her opponents, is that it freewheels, flicking through random ideas until it finds one that looks interesting or workable and applying it right now. Through the drink, Jade recalls an offhand comment Zhou had made about Xet, how there was more to her than Shard could see... it might mean something...

"You know Xet," she risks, handing back the bottle with confidence. Project confidence, that was the thing. "From before."

Before what? is the question on Ireva's lips, but that's a question that reveals far more than it asks. Does Shard suspect she knew Xet before her Exaltation, or simply before that morning in Lookshy? So instead she shakes her head, not in denial but in surface amusement, and takes a swig. "Can't answer that one either, sorry."

The Eclipse hears her voice slurring faintly, and exaggerates it for effect; the sake is starting to get to her, but it won't hurt to pretend to be more impaired than she really is. Shard clearly has a higher tolerance than certain Guildsmen, or maybe is just more stubborn.

Shard jumps off from Ireva's drink, taking it as an admission or at least a chance to talk about her favourite Immaculate. "Like her," she croons. "She's smart. Great hair. Like..." She frowns, trying to think of the right vegetable. "...seaweed! Pretty seaweed!"

Ireva is almost absolutely certain this is the drink at work. It'd better be, for Shard's romantic hopes to have any prospects. She eyes the pan dubiously, noticing that the bottle of spice paste is still trailing red dust into the pan from where it's loosely held in the other Solar's left hand: "Does it really need that much spice, Shard? As for my guess..."

Shard opens her mouth to object that the spice is fine, and then notices the bottle and yelps. Then the smell of burning comes to her nose and she yelps again, and with a cry of "Pause the game!" turns her attention absolutely to the food. Several minutes, one begged slip of milk and a neat expenditure of Essence later, the meal is saved, and certainly much better than military rations they would otherwise get. Shard hands the owner of the pans their portions and settles down to listen.

Cut off, Ireva takes the time to consider as she helps the other Solar carry the food over to the neighboring fire. Grew up in poverty, but likes fine clothing and speaks High Realm like a noblewoman. She had done something impressive enough to cause her to Exalt as... what? Her anima had not flared throughout that battle. Not, by all appearances, a leader of armies, or an orator of blasphemous truths. She might be one of the Unclean, more skilled than any Lookshyan sorcerer-engineer, or a Deceiver... certainly the way she tries to solve her problems is by deception. But Ireva knows what skills come easily to her, and Shard strikes her as far more spy than diplomat. If she had grown up on the streets, and Exalted as one of the Wretched...

"Even before you Exalted, by the standards of the lands where you lived, you were an outlaw," Ireva says - but there is no accusation or disapproval in her voice, rather warm amused respect and recognition. "A crook, a con-woman, a shyster. And a bloody good one."

And let's see where this fishing expedition goes.

The drink has worked its way through the conwoman's head. "Bloody good." She agrees, aping the diplomat's Riverspeak, and goes for a swing. It is rather deeper than her initial conservative attempts. Companionably, she slides closer to Ireva, taking the excuse to steal some food of her plate. "Was.... was.... was... biggest vegetable there was." She winks.

Part of Jade's mind is still working fine, though. Asking more on Xet directly was probably a dead end, given the silence. She could go back to family, or ask indirectly....

"You," Shard triumphantly exclaims, "think Zhou is pretty!"

No, Jade's brain protests. Concentrate.

"Very pretty!"

If you keep this up we're gonna go get a new body, see if we don't!

"Very, very pretty!"

Well, sod you too.

Ireva puts a companionable arm around Shard's shoulders, and picks up the bottle to drink deeply with the other hand. "I doooo," she assents solemnly, nodding. Remembering to exaggerate the slurring is getting easier and easier. Or perhaps just less necessary.

"Must've made things... eashier. Easier. When you Exalted, I mean. Already outside the law." She swallows a mouthful of food. "Mmm. This is really good."

So then she left the satrapy - probably a step or two ahead of the Cleansing - and came to the Scavenger Lands. But didn't spend enough time there to learn the language... did she go to Lookshy seeking wealthy marks, or safety? Did she not know about their support of the Cleansing?

"Lookshy caught you... breaking their laws, or just being a Solar. Offered you a chance to work for them, avoid punishment. Right?"

Jade reaches for the drink, picks it up, and then realizes that she's still playing the game and having more would be an admission. She shakes her head. "Employed." She says, her disguise making the words buzz with truth. Depending on how you stretch the definition, it's not too far from it. Threats count, right? "Can still drink?"

She looks at the bottle. "Don't think Xet is pretty." She says. "No, no, is pretty. Just not important next to..." her hands spread, and after stumbling with the tongue she switches to High Realm, which is always interesting when belted out drunkenly. "...smartness. That woman can talk. Most people can't. Talking means thinking, thinking means doing - and dancing, that was great! We were the biggest vegetables!" She collapses into a fit of... not giggling, like Shard would do in the past, but laughter.

She takes a sip and hands back the bottle. "Youuuuuu...." She concentrates. "....goooooot marr-ied to Zhou by Xet!"

Somewhere inside that skull, Jade's brain covers its metaphorical face with its metaphorical hands and sighs.

"Can still drink," Ireva affirms, handing the bottle back to Shard. "You remind me of a friend of mine... long time ago." She listens, leaning against the other woman, as she expands on Xet's estimable qualities in flawless - but very slurred - High Realm. "Dancing is good. I'm no good at it, though. Maybe dancing lessons, too? Zhou likes dancing..."

She laughs out loud with Shard. "Big onions, both of you. Lots of layers. Never tried marinating Xet in sake... maybe we should. She didn't marry us, though. Er, conduct our marriage, I mean..."

All right, you are definitely starting to get a bit tipsy here, feigned drunkenness for Shard aside.

"No more game," she says decisively. "Unless you want to keep going. Can keep drinking, though. Can tell stories. You must have some good stories. Could find Zhou and Xet?"

"Zhou." Jade agrees. "Xet."

Ireva stands up, pulling Shard to her (rather unsteady) feet, and the two Solars stagger off into the night, sake bottle dangling from Ireva's hand.

[Ifni]

A Brief Moment of Sobriety
Twilight catches Kharal Zhou momentarily alone in his newly-pitched tent, his wife gone off to attend to some errand or listen to the soldiers by their cookfires. Someone else catches him there, too. A shadow passes noiselessly across the canvas of the tent, and a moment later a slim figure in silk robes steps inside. Tepet Xet regards him carefully... except, no, she isn’t Xet at the moment. Her expression, her body language, the way she stands, all uncharacteristic for the flamboyant Dynast; this is Isa’s careful reserve on display.

"Do you have a moment to talk, Kharal Zhou?" Lookshyan rank goes unmentioned, another telltale sign.

Zhou looks up from his work at the interruption, nodding slowly once he sees who it is. In his lap is his armour, being carefully polished to clear away the marks of battle and long travel. It has been quite some time since he last did this, and in truth the Jade plates hardly need it, but he's always found work like this an excellent method for clearing one's mind.

"Of course," he says evenly. "I would like to apologise for that little display back at the command tent. My family has always been... strong-willed seems the most polite way to say it, and whatever else she is, Fire Orchid is definitely one of our blood. I'm honestly kind of surprised she was willing to bend that far."

He shrugs. "Still, what was it you needed?"

Isa makes a little gesture of negation. "No need to apologise; the fault wasn't yours. I appreciate the sentiment."

She seats herself cross-legged on the ground across from him, folding her hands in her lap. "I would like to know what passed between you and my teacher in Yu-Shan. We did not discuss it in detail, but it’s come up twice with Ireva, and." She stops, starts over again. "Your wife would find it very awkward, I think, if I asked her to talk about this; I suspect you would find it less so."

"Yes, I can see why she might not want to discuss that."

Zhou sighs. "In broad summary? We met with someone bearing your face and your name, who was probably Chejop Kejak. My wife knelt at his feet and thanked him for slaying her predecessor - you know she still has nightmares about the things Arkadi did? After that, at his prompting, we presented the closest thing to a plan that we had for the future, laid out all our reasoning and asked what he thought. At which point, your teacher called us fools, insisted that my wife was actually an ambitious monster who could never be trusted, and bound her under a magical oath to not resist if you, Isa, decided she needed to be executed."

One hand tightens around the edge of his armour, but that is the only sign of emotional reaction to what he's saying. "I'm leaving out a few bits - I called your teacher a sanctimonious bastard, he threatened to destroy my ability to form new memories - but that's about the sum of it."

A humourless smile. "Needless to say, I'm none too fond of your teacher right now."

"I can imagine," Isa agrees, her tone neither condemning nor sympathetic. She pauses, fingers laced tightly together in her lap, and after a few seconds continues - "There are many insults that could be leveled at him, but I would not say sanctimonious is among them. He demands as much of himself as from others - usually more."

"The threat is odd, though. I would not have guessed - " She breaks off, shakes her head. "Sorry. I didn't come here to argue with you."

How much to say to him? How much further to ask? She weighs her options; Zhou may not be as sensitive about this topic as Ireva, but he certainly isn’t unconcerned. She doesn't want to give him false hope or false disappointment. A little of each, maybe.

"Might I ask what that plan was? In brief summary, anyway."

"In summary? We cannot stop the Solars from reincarnating - there is not, and possibly never can be a second Jade Prison. With that in mind, purging any who Exalt within the Realm's reach simply ensures that eventually, the only Solars of any experience are beyond that reach, and likely opposed to the Realm as well."

"So since killing the Solars isn't going to work long-term, our suggestion was instead to control them. The Immaculate order has teams of Exalted that know what the Anathema can do, can spot the signs of them working their magic, and have the combat strength necessary to put them down if required. So... track them down and forcibly recruit them, rather than slaying them. Keep them under watch, either putting their abilities to work for the good of the Realm or at the very least not outright opposed to it. If there never will be a way to remove the Solar Exalted from play again, then at least you have them under control and possibly instilled with a pro-Realm attitude depending on the circumstances, rather than out in Creation unwatched and doing whatever they please. And... if a second Jade Prison or the like becomes feasible, then you have them all isolated and surrounded by their assassins already."

The Fire Aspect shrugs. "There are probably holes in the plan, specific variables we were unaware of when we made it, but it seemed like a place to start. Something that your teacher could analyse and provide feedback on, point out the flaws and add his own touches to it as required. At the least, he had challenged us to come up with a plan, any plan, and that was the best we could come up with on a limited timescale."

Isa listens attentively; a close observer might be able to read faint signs of surprise in her body language. Forced recruitment, control, contingent assassins - not the sort of plan she would expect the Fire Aspect to devise, or at least not the terms she’d expect him to use. She wonders if it was couched that way deliberately, so as to clash less with Bronze sensibilities. Possibly.

"Risky," she notes. "Force and control do not strike me as ideal tools when dealing with Solars. They were made to shatter chains and exceed limits; it’s their greatest strength and their greatest flaw rolled into one. But then, I suppose one could level similar criticisms at the current policy."

"I'm not familiar with details, but I understand the Gold are undertaking a vaguely similar plan, substituting the Cult of the Illuminated, Church of the Shining Ones and other such organizations for the Immaculate Order and the Realm." She shrugs. "I imagine there are differences in approach, but." But the Bronze Faction has already observed and rejected this stratagem, in part.

Zhou nods. "Oh, I know. Ireva came up with the ways to make it sound better, ways to frame it for the recruits as an opportunity rather than a burden. She's the diplomat, not me, and we lose a lot of the nuance with a brief summary as it is."

He sighs. "And yes, I will be honest, I can see how the proposed ideas might just end up developing in the direction of a... reestablished Gente system or something, if the Dragon-Blooded and the Solar they work with find some form of common ground over a period of time. Honestly, as final outcomes go, that one doesn't sound too bad to me. I don't know what the Solar's were like in the old days, beyond nightmares and myths, but I'd like to think that having to earn their way to the top of a power structure through merit and good character would leave them in a better place than just Exalting and finding you have an entire family of Dragon-Blooded sworn to serve you."

"It's possible," Isa acknowledges. Trying to make sure that only people of good character rise to the top is not simple, but that problem is one any long-lasting organization faces.

She rises smoothly to her feet, looking down at Zhou. "Thank you for answering my questions." But she doesn’t leave, and a moment later speaks again.

"... It is within my authority to request that a recently deceased soul be reborn into a life destined for Terrestrial Exaltation. Should your wife should die during this campaign - by my hand or any other - I will request this for her, and see to it that her sister knows where she might find Ireva's reincarnation." She bows formally from the waist. "Small consolation, I know, especially for you; but she is owed that much."

"Don't take this as a judgment, one way or the other. It isn't. You can tell her, if you think it would be a comfort, or... not, if you think otherwise."

At that, Zhou... twitches. For a moment there is a sudden spike in temperature in the tent, before the Fire Aspect controls himself once again.

"If Ireva dies at the hands of an enemy... well, small consolation, as you said, but I suppose it would be something." He says at last, his voice deliberately flat. "If she dies at your hands, though... I trust you understand that my response will not be quite as controlled."

"Understandable," Isa says, a little coolly. Burning Waters is not actually dead, she reminds herself. It is not fair to blame Zhou for his part in a death that didn’t really happen. But he doesn’t know that, and it could have happened so easily, and here she is working alongside him and trying to be civil anyway. Does it not even occur to him? "I will make arrangements to ensure she is taken care of, regardless of what happens to me. This is not a bribe."

She bows again, somewhat more formally this time, and turns to go.

"Wait," Zhou says suddenly. The Fire Aspect hesitates for a moment, then sighs and sets his armour aside. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so sharp. It's... hard for me to remember, sometimes, but I know this has to be hard on you as well. Whatever I think of your teacher, whatever our differences in philosophy... you've been an ally, maybe even a friend, and I've not been honoring your actions properly."

The Sidereal pauses on the threshold, turning back to look at him. "... I accept your apology," she says eventually, her expression loosening a little. "Thank you. I would like to be Ireva’s friend. If I can't... there are worse things to pray for than fair enemies, I think." She bows a third time, more shallowly, and somehow it comes off as more genuine, not an attempt to put distance between them. "Good night."

[Ifni]

What Shall We Do With A Drunken Solar?
The sound comes from the direction of the campsite's heart, a wobbling warbling that bounces about the tune without ever quite hitting it.

''The children of Hesiesh each make love exactly the same
But whhhhhho cares when they allll set you aflllllame?''

Bang, bang, bang goes the half empty sake bottle, right on tune. There's an attempt at overcoming laughter that doesn't quite work, and then the next lines come singing out as Bright Shard wobbles into view, half-carried and half-supported by Ireva.

''Daana'd has girls who are fierce and choppy
Strooong seas ahead, wet and sloppy!''

There's a clearing of the throat and then the chorus is prepared.

''But Dragons are as Dragons do
Somewhere there's a Dragon for... Xeeeeet! We were talking about yooou!''

Isa - Xet looks briefly very surprised at the sight of the pair, letting the tent flap drop from her hand to hang free. The Dynast's usual amused smirk slides onto her face just a second later.

''Zhou! Xet!'' Ireva carols happily. She pulls Shard toward Xet, letting go of the taller Solar once Xet is close enough to catch her. She waves the sake bottle triumphantly, nearly clocking Shard. ''We have singing! And stories! And sake!'' She pauses to shake the bottle again, and frowns. Insufficient sake. This is a concern. With a flourish, she produces a second bottle from her sleeve. ''Lots of sake!''

She maneuvers into the tent - somewhat unsteadily - far enough to bump into Zhou, at which point she promptly wraps her arms around the Fire Aspect.

Luckily for Zhou's tent, Shard is not a heavy woman, and Xet is a bit stronger than she looks. She manages to catch and steady the Solar without stumbling backwards into one of the tent poles. One sniff, and -

''I don't believe you got all of that out of one bottle,'' she accuses. ''I think you must have found a lake of sake. And you didn't think to invite me before you went swimming? I'm crushed.'' As if for emphasis she leans back, letting Shard's weight force her a step towards the tent.

Shard attempts to stand up straight, this normally very simple operation rendered complex by suddenly reluctant and uncommunicative legs. Moving around, away from and towards her support of Xet - in any direction, that is, but up - she mouths 'I was tricked' and followed it up with. ''One bottle. Big bottle! Three bottles worth of one bottle!''

''One bottle,'' Ireva nods solemnly. ''Best sake. From One Wide... One Eyed Wonshop. Wong's shop. Wineshop. In Nexus.'' She waves the mostly-empty bottle helpfully, narrowly missing Zhou's nose. The label has peeled off, but to the observant eye, the Riverspeak letters etched on the side are informative, and somewhat alarming.

Shard pauses.

''Maaaybe one lake,'' she admits, and giggles. ''Talking to the Chuzei? Done that myself. He's so... got a stick right up there.'' She notices the object of her conversation, and waves shamelessly and cheerfully. ''Chuzei!''

"Standard issue for all Lookshyan officers," Zhou says dryly, supporting his giggling wife with an air of vague bemusement. "In extremis, we are trained to remove them so as to have something with which to thrash our enemies."

Ireva looks rather nonplussed at this statement. Her brow scrunches as if she's trying to figure something out, slowly and through an alcoholic fog. After a moment she seems to give it up, and relaxes - or collapses - into Zhou's supporting arms with a contented sigh and a faint giggle.

''Not talking,'' Xet says, summoning as much dignity and hauteur as one can while supporting a drunk (and trying not to laugh). ''Quarrelling. The poor man's been practically wasting away with no-one to lecture or shout at him. Someone has been neglecting her wifely duties.'' She directs a mock-glower at Ireva, who blinks innocently back at her. ''So out of the goodness of my heart, I've taken it upon myself to save their marriage by doing her quarrelling for her. And maybe keep him from provoking the commander until she has somebody executed, too - you know how Fire Aspects can get. A side benefit of my altruism.''

Zhou snorts at this. "Indeed. So altruistic is she, that she didn't even wait for me to expose my dire lack of scolding before taking it upon herself to contribute. Just wandered right in off the street and started. Truly, I don't know what I'd do without someone watching out for me like that."

Shard tries to pat Xet on the shoulder and ends up rubbing her ear. "Glad you're alive," she admits. ''Saw the white flare and thought - boom! Caught! Chop!'' Over the Immaculate's shoulder she pouts at Zhou, and mouths 'no fighting the big vegetable' for some reason. Perhaps in her drunken state she is terrified at the thought of enormous carrots.

''Been saving marriages a lot?'' Shard asks, slurring. ''Sounded like you'd break them more often. Is easy to break marriages - they do it all by themselves. Silly things. No point.'' She shakes her head at the strangeness of the world. ''But good of y... y... y... Xet to help. Do know them well, after all.''

''Political marriages,'' Xet muses, ''tend to be less fragile than that. Or perhaps they just come pre-broken, so that nobody really minds if someone makes herself at home in the cracks.''

She steps back into the tent, half-carrying Shard in with her. ''I'm glad I'm alive too. Did I thank you for that yet? I don't think I did.''

A part of Jade that is still working amid the drink notes that Xet does seem to know the happy couple, or at least about their marriage, but it is drowned out by a storm of mental fog as the conwoman tries to work out what the Immaculate is referring to. Eventually she just gives up and shrugs, letting herself be dragged boldly along. This is fun!

''Anytime,'' she slurs. ''Wasn't no thing. What did you think of the big vegetable?'' She looks at Xet's baffled expressiion. ''You know... vegetable. Big person, very loud, commands armies? How she? Never met.''

She looks around herself, trying to work out which parts of her surroundings should be moving. ''Wara'a we going?''

''Prickly,'' Ireva murmurs. ''Like one of those... spiky fruit things. From the South.'' She shuffles back from the doorway to let Xet and Shard in, and then reaches out to pull the tent-flap closed. Still clinging onto Zhou's arm, she attempts to sit down gracefully; it only takes a couple of attempts.

''Not... easy to break, though.'' She frowns at Xet, then focuses on Shard. ''Your marriage broke? Like noodles? All by itself?'' She sounds very sympathetic.

''Wasn't married,'' Shard shakes from somewhere on the floor. The spy-slash-crafter has evidently given up on locomotion. ''Is stupid. Nonsense. Be warrrrrrrrned.'' She waves her hands out towards the married couple. ''Yoooou maaaake noooooo seeeense.''

''We make sense!'' Ireva returns indignantly, resting her head comfortably on Zhou's shoulder. ''We are perfectly sennnsical. What... noodle marriages you seen, then? Parents? Or part of criminal carro- career?''

She waves a wavering finger in Shard's general direction, and giggles. ''Bloody good. Got any stories? From being the biggest carrot?''

Shard loudly shushes any mention of the criminal career, completely ruining any chance it might go pass unnoticed. ''Am respectable woman.'' She insists. ''No stories or carrots. One hundred pineapp - percent innocent.''

... You have to admire the straightness of the face, if nothing else. ''Tell her!'' the conwoman protests to the two dragons, falling back on the old instincts of deny, deny, deny. ''Am very innocent. Not like her. Am!''

'I'm afraid it's true,'' Xet confirms, having maneuvered the fallen Shard so that her head rests in the Dynast's lap. ''Perfectly innocent, perfectly respectable, and perfectly boring. Such a shame.''

There is a stuck-out tongue in response to this apt description.

''You know, I think I have to admit defeat,'' she goes on. ''I've been racking my brain, trying to think of a vegetable'' - her lips quirk into a bemused smile - ''to compare our dear commander to. But I don't think I've ever encountered a vegetable that quite captures that air of menace, loathing, and murderous hatred. I am at a loss for words. For the first time in my entire life. I'm not sure what to do about that. Do I kiss you? Challenge you to a duel? Firewands at dawn, I think that's Chiaroscuro custom...''

''A druian.'' Shard sleepily comments in Rivespeak. ''Smells terrible. Worst stink in world.'' There's a pause as she considers the vegetable in question. ''Best taste, though.''

She shifts her head in the lap. Hopefully there's not going to be a kiss - the evening is perfectly nice as it is. She closes her eyes, and her conwoman brain makes a suggestion. ''Be someone else,'' she says. ''They won't hate you then.''

''You can still be you around me,'' she reassures, shifting further into her pillow. Mm. This was nice.

Xet is amused. Shard doesn't realize how plausible the suggestion is... probably. ''Alas, I'm afraid the mysterious disappearance of the local Immaculate might raise more worries than it settles. Particularly after we've gone to such lengths to secure my safety.'' Perhaps she'd better check. She listens, opening her mind to the tangle of Shard's thoughts.

''Druian, all right,'' she murmurs, one hand playing with the other woman's hair. ''Since you've supplied me with the proper metaphor, I suppose you're forgiven. I don't think I want to try tasting the Commander, though.''

The machinery of Shard's mind is a tangled mess - some gears spinning free, as smooth as if gilded with silk, while others whirl about with all the abandon of a gleefully spinning child, rotating on the spot and falling down with a cheer. Fishing through fog, Isa can detect flashes of thoughts that seem distinct from what she's been able to grasp earlier, stuff that's the unalloyed mind of the woman behind Bright Shard. In this current mood, it might be possible to reveal answers otherwise disguised.

The conwoman snuggles closer into Xet's lap, and the entire thing skips with a flash of contentment. A sentence is stopped before it can go past her lips, a reflection on how, by the side of another liar, there's no need to pretend you aren't a pretender.

''Marinade her,'' Shard mumbles. ''Everything's good in a butter marinade.''

''Sake marinade,'' Ireva corrects, sleepily.

''Butter,'' her cooking tutor repeats. ''Good for stringy meat.''

''Sake, Xet? Zhou? Is very good.'' Once more the bottle describes a chaotic meandering loop, threatening Zhou's ear. ''Better than butter.''

The Eclipse sits a little straighter, pulling herself up against Zhou and attempting a look of righteous temperance at Shard. It comes off rather cross-eyed. ''No more sake for youuu, carrot. Too much marinade. Or was too much flour? Hmm...''

Xet waves off the offer. If one bottle shared between them is enough to knock both Ireva and Shard flat like this, she'd probably better avoid it. Besides, drunk-people-watching is more fun when you're sober yourself. ''I don't think marinades are the solution. If I tried, she'd have her army of... maize? Is that the tall pointy one that grows in fields? I'm not a cook - her army of maize chop me up for stew. Is there a vegetable like that? Some dreadful carnivorous thing out of the far East, perhaps, hunted and served only by the greatest of warrior-chefs?''

Eating Xet, Shard thinks. Ireva was right - you'd have to cook her in alcohol. The Immaculate wouldn't have it any other way. ''Carnivorous squash.'' Shard provides in answer to the question. ''Local Scrivenger... Scavenger legend. Gets up at night and tries to eat you.'' She giggles. ''Not very good at it. Mostly just gnaws at your foot-'' she demonstrates a little on Xet's lap, attempting to tickle the woman with her hands ''-but you get enough of them and they can smother you. Become fertilizer.''

Drunkenly, the woman considers this legend for a while, staring up into the stars. ''Scavenger Land legends are strange,'' she concludes eventually.

''Evidently. What's the point of a legend like that? It ought to be something like, like, a man-eating strangler squash, or behemoth potatoes. Something to keep kids indoors at Calibration. Or scare them out of your vegetable patch, anyway.''

''Behemoth potatoes.'' Shard considers. ''They'd be like moles! Burrowing underground. You'd only see them when you saw the leaves...'' drunkenly, her mind tries to figure out how to edit those out and make for a more stealthy bomber vegetable. ''...could replace them with... hm.''

''Could give them flowers? Camouflage. Look all pretty, crouch down to smell them, WHAM! Behemoth potato.'' Ireva considers this for a few moments.

''... what's a behemoth? Aside from 'big'?''

''Like baiting fish, only in reverse,'' Xet muses. ''Hmm. Do potatoes normally have flowers?''

She considers Ireva's question. ''... good question. It's not a very precise word, I think it's mostly used to describe anything big, scary, and hard to figure out. Giant hell-monster that isn't a proper demon? Behemoth. Giant Wyld-thing that isn't one of the unshaped? Behemoth. It's the Wyld Hunt's equivalent of the file marked miscellaneous.''

''Mmmm.'' Ireva considers this. ''Big, scary, hard to figure out... cities count? Yu-Shan, Lookshy... makes sense.''

Her wandering stream of consciousness fixes onto this new direction. ''What cities you been to, Shard?''

''Potato cities,'' Shard murmurs. ''Giant, hollowed-out travelling potato cities roving underground, hunting down the lesser vegetables, preyed on by the parasites of the brussel villages. Hm.'' She breaks off from her internal vision to consider the question. ''Lots.'' She answers. ''West, south, east, Isle. Not the North. Too cold. No vegetables.''

The conwoman frowns. In her drunken brain, this means that she is now owed the answer to a question. ''How long you two known each other?'' She asks. It's unclear as to what combination of Xet, Ireva and Zhou she is referring to.

''Isle? What was it like?'' Ireva sounds rather wistful. ''Don't remember it properly...''

At Shard's question, the little Eclipse raises a hand and begins folding down fingers. ''Lookshy to here... one week. Yu-Shan and walking to Lookshy... one week. Nexus to Yu-Shan... one week. Er.'' She stares at her hand, and wriggles her fingers. ''... some weeks. And plus Nexus.'' She tilts her head up to plant a kiss on Zhou's cheek. ''Best sparring partner.''

Shard's brain slowly and surely does the maths, carefully putting together the numbers through fog.

''Two months?'' She asks, more disbelieving than she'd been on the subject of behemoth potatoes. She shakes her head. ''Toooo sooooon. Maaakes no seeeeense.''

She tilts her head up at Xet. ''Wouldn't marry you after two months,'' she explains, and then frowns at Zhou. ''Certainly wouldn't marry you. Two months. Is that normal?''

Xet claps a hand to her heart in feigned distress. ''Oh! Such cruel words. All my hopes and dreams, dashed to pieces upon the floor of the tent. Must I wait three months? Or - heaven forbid - four?''

''She does think you're pretty,'' Ireva offers helpfully. ''Pretty and smart. Hair like seaweed. Told me so.''

''Is pretty.'' Shard agrees, fiddling with hair. ''Don't care too much for that, though,'' she adds honestly. ''Jus... Jus' using her for her personality.''

As far as Shard's mind says, this seems roughly correct. The drunken memories of Xet's conversation are much more lively than the memories of just Xet. The Frostwing song and talk feature notably.

''What you using me for?'' She asks. ''Or you two - why you using each other?'' Below the drunkenness, a pair of conwoman's ears sluggishly try to perk up.

''Saving world,'' Ireva says matter-of-factly, ''very important.''

(Family, almost as true an answer, she holds guarded, even on half a bottle of shochu.)

''Politics?''' Shard asks. ''Yu-Shan?'''

''Lookshy and Yu-Shan and politics and hugs," Ireva answers with a firm nod, although it's not entirely clear what she thinks she's replying to. ''What you using us for? Besides Xet's personality?''

In response, Shard waves a lazy arm at the Chuzei. ''Told 'im,'' she slurs. ''He can tell you.''

''Oh, saving the world, fascinating,'' Xet laughs. ''I'm afraid my motives seem much shallower by comparison - amusement and curiosity. You are a much more interesting person than you seemed at first glance in Lookshy.'' She catches Shard's fingers as they try to twine through her hair. ''Careful now, didn't we learn our lesson about playing with my hair last time...?''

Shard grins upwards. ''Bad student,'' she excuses herself. ''Is the sake.'' A memory glacially floats across her mind, and she frowns with the weight. ''Never did design a new dress...''

''Should make Xet new dress,'' Ireva nods. ''Stop reminding druian about husband.''

There's a pause as, with the absolute best of intentions, the idea wobbles its way through Shard's head and hits an inadvisable number of creative nodes. The crafter rolls off Xet's lap and within reach of her personal bag, where she grabs a needle, thread and several cuts of cloth. Then she stands up, and, with a certain look in her eye, advances on the Immaculate with a suddenly steady stride.

Xet looks slightly alarmed at the sight of the needle. She holds her hands in a ritual gesture to ward off evil and couturie, or at least delay it. ''What exactly is that for...?''

''Sewing!'' Shard exclaims, drawing out long swathes of green shades, and without any further warning descends on the hapless Xet. The needle and thread flash in the campfire reflection with deadly speed that feels more appropriate to a foe than friend, the crafter attempting to murmur reassurances while drunkenly failing to hold her customer still. The green fabrics explode in a flurry of drunken Essence, and the woman moves so fast that her arm goes beyond a blur and into pure invisibility, needle practically screaming from the air friction -

- and then Shard stumbles back, looking immensely pleased at her handiwork: an amazing, almost shining hair ribbon curled on itself to resemble a spiky durian fruit, though thankfully perfumed closer to a cherry blossom. A quick tug of the thing reveals that the crafter has somehow, with drunken misunderstanding of the impossibility, worked Xet's hairwire into the design to replicate the spikes. Getting it off is not going to be a simple exercise.

Shard frowns at her work, leans forward, and moves one of the spikes ever-so slightly. ''Now it's perfect,'' she says, and very happily falls face forwards.

Fortunately, Isa manages to restrain her reflexive response to sharp objects directed at her head. She holds still as best she can as it becomes clear the woman isn't going to be refitting her robes while she wears them, or trying to peel them off. Her hair should be safe enough.

Probably.

She holds herself very still, mindful of her clothier's drunken state; she doesn't need any impromptu ear piercings, thanks very much… When Shard settles back and pronounces it done, she removes a small hand mirror from a pouch at her belt - of course Xet carries a mirror with her at all times - to inspect herself, looking halfway between amused and aghast.

''Dare I ask,'' she asks (evidently yes), ''what sort of vegetable I am now? Pineapple?''

''Druian,'' Ireva says happily. ''Pretty druian. Smells nice, too. Cherry blossoms in springtime.'' She detaches herself from Zhou and meanders over to inspect Shard. ''Is she asleep, do you think?'' She touches Shard's shoulder gently.

''What, the I-hate-you-and-want-you-to-suffer fruit?'' Xet peers at the mirror closely. ''Vegetable, sorry. I thought that one belonged to the Commander. Am I supposed to try and give this to her, or replace her, or...?'' She glances down at Shard, and pulls her back into her lap, shaking the con woman in hopes of rousing her. ''No no, no sleep yet. You have questions to answer! Am I merely a druian to you? Do I not deserve a vegetable of my very own?''

''I said onion,'' Ireva says thoughtfully. ''Lots of layers. But doesn't smell good, 'cept when you cook it... mm. Caramelized onions.'' She is lost in a reverie for a moment, and then taps Shard's shoulder again. ''Onion, too. Criminal mastermind. Trickster. Before Extalt- Exall- being Solar, even. Not sure why working for Lookshy, wasn't her choice...'' She grins up at Xet. ''Your charming personality? Must be...''

Her voice drops, and she adds, ''Was right about Be someone else, they won't hate you then, though.'' The little Eclipse sounds a touch morose.

The alcohol is certainly helping free her tongue, but partly that's just an excuse. It's pleasant, to be in a situation free of tension or fear, where she doesn't have to guard against the flare-up of anger or offence, to just relax and chatter of unimportant things... and to be able to blame indiscretion on the sake, that too. Of course, some discretions - like Isa's true identity - remain important, even now.

She shakes her head, and then looks back up at Xet, smiling again. She taps a finger to her lips in consideration - or that seems to have been the idea, even if she misses by quite a considerable margin. ''Could be starfruit? Is very bright. Center of attention. Tart, but not bitter. Or dragon fruit, since dragon... has spikes, like druian. Pretty colors.''

She stumbles back over to Zhou. ''Could be dragon fruit, too - but more like chili pepper. Fiery. Warms you all the way down to your toes. But one of the sweet kinds.''

Xet makes a suspiciously giggle-like sound. ''Aww. Sounds like somebody's got a taste for spicy foods...''

''Depends. Not like Shard can make,'' Ireva replies with rather more honesty than tact - but she is smiling, as she leans against the Fire Aspect. ''Zhou -'' she looks up at her husband, ''- said Lookshyans like spices. So have to learn. Bought some in Yu-Shan, for gift. And do like... fiery pepper. Very much.'' Zhou gets a proper hug at this, not just a one-armed one. ''Very very very much. Best.''

She looks back over at Xet. ''Like you too,'' she says firmly. ''Not a druian. Best starfruit.''

She considers the half-conscious (?) Shard, still smiling. ''An' like her. Fun to talk with. Cooks best food, made you pretty druian. And smart. Can't hold her sake, but asks good questions.''

Shard rises sleepily, piecing together the parts of the conversation heard through her nap. ''Good vegetable.'' She explains to Xet. ''Smells terrible, but tastes like the best thing in the... best ever.'' Frowning, she tries to apply metaphor. ''Like... Immaculate smell, but not stern, more... friendly and funny like, in taste. Even friendly with a Solar...''
She turns and gazes distantly at Ireva, and then equally distantly at Xet. Behind her eyes, drunken wheels attempt to turn. ''You are a terrible Immaculate,'' she says.

She pauses to stick her tongue out at Ireva. ''Can hold great sake,'' she says. ''An' never said I didn't choose Lookshy. Lookshy fine.''

Ireva taps her fingers together for a moment, frowning as she tries to remember, but then nods slowly. ''Is true. Never said. Just wouldn't answer. And lied back in Lookshy, when said you were honored... mmph. Good to know. Was worried, worried they'd forced you into it somehow... Glad you're fine.''

She wobbles over to try to put an arm around Shard's shoulders. It is not clear whether this is meant to be supportive, or for support. ''And Xet'sh a good Immaculate. Fight monsters. Protect the world. Resist obliiiivion. Like Sheks... Sheshtes...'' Her attempts to enunciate 'Sextes Jylis' failing, she looks briefly frustrated, and then throws up her hands. ''You know. Dragons.'' She waves in Xet's general direction. ''Listens to people. Even Solars, 'n Lunars. Not the only one, neither. Good druians... ''

''... so you like Lookshy? What's it like? Hehe... looksh like likes Lookshy...'' The Eclipse extracts her tongue from its tangle, and pokes it out at Shard in return. ''Didn't get to visit much. Just outer ring, and one night.''

''Lookshy.'' Jade mutters. ''Better t'n the Realm. But too ra-ra. Military this, sword that, dull dull. Gens are better than Dynasts, is about all.''

She delves back towards Xet's lap, depriving Ireva of her support. ''Sleep now.'' She mutters. ''Long day.''

Ireva looks mildly put out, but only for a moment, before half-falling contentedly back into Zhou's arms. "'Kay. More Riverspeak less'ns t'morrow. An' cookin', an' dancin'...'' She yawns. ''Was nice, though. Should do this again sometime. Nice to be able to just... talk. Not hide.''

''Wasssh your real name, Shard? Didn't want to tell me earlier. Is't embarrassing?'' She considers for a moment, and grins, her voice growing teasing. ''Bet it's embarrassing. So the question is, izzit embarrassing like 'Number Seven Daughter', or embarrassing like 'Perfect Perfumed Petal of Purity'...''

The Eclipse yawns again and adds, almost too quietly to hear, ''Can be you around us, too. 's safe.''

Jade drifts off into sleep, too deep into the dreamworld to reply, but not to think. Thoughts flash through her mind like afterimages in a thunderstorm... a memory of Blessed Isle street theatre, compared to the plain streets of Lookshy... superior Dynasts and superior Gens standing side by side, smirking, overshadowed by one aged, refined sword of a man with salt and pepper in his hair - Immaculates preaching to internal jeering, and shouting and hunting her down with the red demon-dog eyes of a nightmare in the making - a ceaseless litany of dancing names Bright Shard Rising Glory New Cloud Tepet Hong Jade Lotus Kharal Sesus Hu Gao Wen all for some reason accompanied by the overpowering smell of aged tea leaves, attached to the warm and harsh memory of a plain wooden block...

In Xet's lap, Shard wriggles over and a bit closer into her pillow. ''G'ni'ht.'' She yawns, and goes to sleep.

Xet's amused smile fades a little as she recognizes the telltale transition from conscious thought to dreaming. That's a bit annoying; she wasn't planning to stay here all night. She moves a hand to shake Shard's shoulder, hoping to rouse her before she's all the way under - no luck.

''She's out,'' she murmurs, halfway between frustrated and amused. ''I suppose I'll be carrying her back to her tent, wherever that is. Either of you happen to know?''

Ireva blinks slowly. ''Um. Should be close, since Zhou's her chushei. Chuzei. Right?'' She looks up at her husband, seeking confirmation from a Lookshyan - and sober - source. ''Could let her sleep here, we go find her tent. Not 'speshully attached to this one, 'n I can still walk. Could do with a bit of fresh air.'' She smiles at Xet. ''Can tuck her in before you go.''

''If you don't mind moving,'' Xet acknowledges, beginning the process of extricating herself. ''I expect her tent's rather smaller than this one. Just how much did she drink, anyway? Is she likely to remember this tomorrow?'' She glances up at Ireva. ''Your hints about her, for instance? I couldn't tell whether she honestly missed that, noticed and didn't care, or did a very good job of covering her reaction.''

Ireva picks up the mostly-empty bottle, and stares at it. The level seems to be going up and down, so she hands it over to Xet. '''Bout half this. Didn't teach her all Riverspeak yet... 's shochu sake, not the ordinary kind. Stronger. Mortals drink in shots, not bottles...'' She snickers quietly, but then grows more serious. ''Don' know how much she'll r'member. Hopef'lly most of it. Trying to prove... can open up, can let secrets go, an' not die for it. Don't have to hide always.'' She eyes Xet, smiling rather loopily. ''Wasn' expecting the druian hairdo... need a hand getting it down? Very pretty though...''

''An' small tent's okay. 'll just have to cuddle up close to Zhou. Ter'ble sacrifice.'' She grins up at her husband.

''Ah - yes, actually.'' Xet raises a hand to her hair cautiously. ''I don't know what she did with the razor wire I had woven in here, but I don't want to try sleeping on it. You can probably get a better look than I can, even with the mirror.''

The next few minutes involve a certain amount of muttered multilingual cursing on Ireva's part, as she learns that even with the cast-iron liver of a survivor of Thorns, half a bottle of shochu noticeably impedes one's fine motor control, especially when dealing with razor wire. ''Why'd you put razor wire in your hair, Xet? Thought we'd left hair-pulling behind a while back...'' She hisses, and sucks a sliced finger; when she returns to her task her skin gleams with a faint gold-metal sheen. ''Shouldn' need Charms to be a hairdresser f'r Dynasts...'' But despite the grumbling, she manages to disentangle the spiked and coiled ribbon without serious damage to either Xet or Shard's creation.

''Should keep it,'' she muses as she regards the final result, ''is very pretty druian.''

''Why wouldn't I put razor wire in my hair?'' is Xet's answer. ''Sadly, some people seem to believe that having long hair is an invitation to pull it, at least when you're fighting. I could cut it short instead, but I like this better. Besides, you never know when you're going to need to garrote someone... That's the best part of fancy outfits, you know - lots of room for concealed weaponry.'' (Up close, her three hairsticks look suspiciously like sheaths for small stiletto knives.)

''I normally undo my hair at night... I suppose we can see what it looks like in the morning.''

Ireva twitches at you never know when you're going to need to garrote someone, suppressing the reaction a moment too late. Too much shochu. She manages to stop I'd rather you use a blade before it gets out, though. Fortunately.

''Have a fancy outfit,'' she says instead, proudly. ''Magic outfit. Lots of pockets. Can hide a gran' daiklave in there. Can lend it to you sometime, if you like. Can do veils and hairclips ‘n those things too. No razor wire though.'' She hands the ribbon to Xet and looks around a little aimlessly, before heading back toward Zhou and the tent-flap. She almost trips over Shard on the way, and reminded, crouches down to slide the other Solar onto one of the bedrolls. ''Should we go now, d'you think?''

''No more, you'll make me jealous. Unless you can tell me where to find a magic tailor who can make me one of those.'' Xet assists her, the task made easier by the fact that Shard's shoulders are resting on her lap already. ''There. You might want to take a blanket with you, in case hers aren't large enough for two.''

Ireva nods. ''Good. 's a good plan.''

''Took my am'let from the deathknight I killed... might find more in Thorns, I guess. Else... need orc- oricalk-'' She pauses, and frowns. ''Sun metal, ‘n star metal.'' She eyes Shard. ''She's a magic tailor... faster an' better than Lookshy sorcerer-engineers, she said, an' was telling the truth. Maybe could make you one.''

She clumsily pulls a blanket up over the Night caste, before bundling the spare blanket up in both arms and staggering back to her feet. ''Could leave her a note, I guess? Shard, you fell asleep, we swapped tents for the night?''

''Oh, I'm sure she can figure it out on her own,'' Xet says, her voice entirely too innocent. ''It'll be fun. Mind you don't leave behind anything you wouldn't want her rifling through, though...''

''All in my pockets,'' Ireva says, sounding rather self-satisfied, and then droops a little. ''Always... keep it all with me, so don't lose so much, when I have to run. Just apartments, gardens, people I knew...'' She frowns, in what looks like a mixture of sadness and mild annoyance. ''He broke my door, and all my screens, my paintings. Guess it doesn't matter, had to leave anyway, and brought the seeds... not the same, though.'' She yawns. ''G'night, Xet. Don' suppose you know where Shard's tent is? Guess we can ask somebody...''

''More easily than I could,'' Xet agrees. She tilts her head a moment - ''Try due east; low-ranking officer's tent, not very well pitched.''

Ireva nods once more, head bobbing a little jerkily. ''G'night, Xet. Sleep well. Good dreams.'' Guided by Zhou - who has been a silent amused observer to most of this - she departs into the night.

''Good night,'' Xet echoes, making no move to follow just yet. Give the pair of them a bit of space before she leaves. She gazes down at Shard... or Jade Lotus... or whatever her name is; that was the name that stood out strongest in the woman's thoughts, the one she associated with herself, but she wouldn't be surprised to find that even Jade Lotus is only an alias. She'll keep thinking of the Night as Shard for now, she decides, until she's given another name. Take her as she presents herself. (Though Isa suspects the disguise has been eroding since they left Lookshy, aided and abetted by alcohol. But who knows? Maybe she planned these layers into Bright Shard from the beginning.)

Her shoulders slump a little. Being Xet isn't normally that tiring; but after the jarring switch from talking with Zhou to talking with Ireva and Shard, maintaining an air of levity while knowing that at least two people could see through it... she feels drained. Time to get a decent night's sleep, if she can.

[The_Snark]

The symbol - ah. That symbol. She wonders why he wants more now, when before he had only warned her that this was not to be spoken of...

She gives way before the attack, taking time to assemble her thoughts. What can she safely tell him? Not everything - not that Burning Waters still lives - and not the meeting in Yu-Shan. He would be so disappointed... A not-too-gentle rap to her elbow calls her attention back to the lesson; this new style is harder to predict, using misdirection and precision movement rather than sheer speed and force. One of the so-called soft styles, although not as passive as some examples. Right, she can't tell him everything, but she can share somethings. She almost had, back in Yu-Shan...

"His name was Burning Waters," she begins, turning aside a blow and moving into a counterattack before he can slide around her parry. Staying on the defensive just gives him a chance to find another angle, try again. "He was one of the leaders of the Nexus revolution. A populist, I think, a demagogue. I never did find out whether he was aware that his co-conspirators were infernalists." A brief pause, and then - "I cared about him. More than I ought to, before I even knew his name or who he was. I saw him on the street, and - felt a connection, just like that."

She shakes her head. "I thought it was some sort of sorcery, at first. Played along with it, tried to figure out what he wanted from me. But I don't think he knew. When my cover was breached, he... took it badly. Ordered me killed, accused me of enchanting him. I think he was honestly caught off-guard."

Her voice is relatively composed, all things considered, but it isn't that hard to read the hurt underneath.

[Aevylmar]

Skandi moves his hand in an ambiguous manner. "That is what the tattoos are for, I understand. But you only owe me the favor. Loremasters are a special case; they don't require repayment, because they aren't acting as people, they're acting as the Voice of the Lunar Community, and they get paid in status by the entire Lunar Community. If they do you favors afterwards, though, you'll owe them for those."

He pauses. "I should warn you, *getting* the tattoos hurts. A lot."

[Inspector Valin]

"That's not what worries me."

The young traveller looked downward at her hand, flexing each finger one by one. It was... all too easy to imagine they were claws. Vicious, sharp as metal, enough to tear through skin and bone. Shaking her head to clear it, she met Skandi's gaze a second time. "Ms Ireva made it sound like this whole thing was inevitable. She told me this story of a Lunar who had to cross dangerous territory and risked it just for a chance with a Loremaster. That's what I thought the issue was. If I didn't do what you said, get those tattoos, avoid shapeshifting, join the Silver Pact, I'd turn into some kind of crazed beast. A monster killing people without thought or reason. An... Anathema, for want of a better word."

Versi chuckled, her mind turning to another 'Anathema' briefly. She shook her head at Skandi. "But that's not the whole truth, is it? The danger's from shapeshifting. That's it. If you don't shape-shift, there's no danger, no risk of the transformation getting out of control, no tattoos are necessary. Even doing it irregularly could be safe." Versi's train of thought was obvious now, the young girl frowning at the barbarian prince. She brought her hands upwards, gesturing to her face. "If my spell fails, I can explain wearing the armour. I can explain the spell to make it look like Jade. I couldn't explain tattoos like yours. If I'm ever seen without a disguise again, everyone will know exactly what I am." Versino's tone was shaking a little. She was trying to sound strong, but... this was obviously a cause for fear with her. As much as the prospect of becoming some kind of unknown monster

[industrious]

The symbol - ah. That symbol. She wonders why he wants more now, when before he had only warned her that this was not to be spoken of...

She gives way before the attack, taking time to assemble her thoughts. What can she safely tell him? Not everything - not that Burning Waters still lives - and not the meeting in Yu-Shan. He would be so disappointed... A not-too-gentle rap to her elbow calls her attention back to the lesson; this new style is harder to predict, using misdirection and precision movement rather than sheer speed and force. One of the so-called soft styles, although not as passive as some examples. Right, she can't tell him everything, but she can share somethings. She almost had, back in Yu-Shan...

"His name was Burning Waters," she begins, turning aside a blow and moving into a counterattack before he can slide around her parry. Staying on the defensive just gives him a chance to find another angle, try again. "He was one of the leaders of the Nexus revolution. A populist, I think, a demagogue. I never did find out whether he was aware that his co-conspirators were infernalists." A brief pause, and then - "I cared about him. More than I ought to, before I even knew his name or who he was. I saw him on the street, and - felt a connection, just like that."

She shakes her head. "I thought it was some sort of sorcery, at first. Played along with it, tried to figure out what he wanted from me. But I don't think he knew. When my cover was breached, he... took it badly. Ordered me killed, accused me of enchanting him. I think he was honestly caught off-guard."

Her voice is relatively composed, all things considered, but it isn't that hard to read the hurt underneath.

Chejop Kejak

Abruptly, her mentor stops the drill; folding his arms to his side. He pinches the bridge of his nose, shakes his head slightly.

"Isa," he says slowly, every syllable revealing his age, his long-torn suffering. "Do you...not trust me any more?"


"Then what, she says softly. "Are you playing at? You want her dead as much as I do."


Versi and Fire Orchid

"I see."

Kharal Fire Orchid interlaces her fingers adjusts her seat to be more comfortable.

"You've voiced a lot of suspicions, right now. But I can't do anything with them. What are these people planning? What are their goals? I can't be on my guard against every breeze on the wind, Versino."

Through the Trevail of Ages

She snorts at Ireva's comments, lets loose a peel of laughter.

"Did I say 'my Exaltation'? I was here, six centuries ago. This...this was the site of the Seige of Utam; this was where a remnant of the Seventh Legion of the Shogunate took their first fortress. Sun, I wish I could bring all my officers here, even for a little while..."

She walks through the fields of old with reverence. "I knew I fought in this battle when I first read of the tactics used. See - here, and here - the beginnings of the adaptation of the traditional Lookshyian tortoise formation..."

The aged Solar breaks off abruptly.

"Come. Let us pray here, in this ancient place, where our forefathers stood and fought and died. Let us remember their courage, and their bravery."

The Art of Sorcery

The Commander listens to his commentary closely; nodding along with him until the end.

"Chuzei," she says at last. "I have a legion to run and manage. I have tactics to evaluate, plans of engagement to draw up, maps to study, and troops to drill. I have neither the time, nor the inclination to learn sorcery."

"Can my men learn it, or are you volunteering your own skills?"

[Maugan Ra]

Through the Travail of Ages

Zhou hesitates for a long moment, then shakes his head. "Prayer is for temples." He says quietly, looking over the surrounding terrain with distant eyes. "At one time or another, our ancestors have fought and died over just about the entire East. I honour their memory and their sacrifice, but not like this."

There is an unusual degree of solemnity in his voice as the Fire Aspect continues. "I live as they would want me to live. I study the lessons they learned, build upon the foundations they laid down, draw my sword against those who would violate the codes they lived by. That is how I honour my forefathers. Not through words whispered to an empty field."

He turns back to look at Fire Orchid, voice calm but resolute. "You may have walked here once, Kaizai, but that was in a different time, a different life. Do not drown the accomplishments of today beneath the tides of yesteryear."

So, I think this is one of the first times that we've actually had cause to see Zhou's spiritual side. This is coming from my understanding of the Immaculate Philosophy/Faith, which regardless of which sect you belong to universally speaks against getting caught up in ancestor worship or similar ideas. It's the sort of thing that happens when you have a verifiable system of reincarnation to point to as an answer to 'what happens when we die'.

I'm hoping that Fire Orchid will recognise where those beliefs are coming from (as this kind of spiritualism seems pretty common in Lookshy from what I understand) rather than get personally offended.

[DeafnotDumb]

'Asheya' is not impressed by this fragrant disregard for the safety of spy speak, but she relents with a hard-eyed glare. Behind those eyes, Jade's mind grinds down the possibilities and ends up with only one name - Xet, the hated Immaculate.

Try to test the theory. There could be any other number of despised women that Jade simply hasn't heard of. "The woman is a little more protected than optimal." She says calmly. "Even the Solar diplomat and their backup aside. Thus the secrecy. This will be done, Commander, but it will be done correctly. Calm deeds succeed where rash ones fail. Your husband would want slow success over fast failure."

See if the mention of a Solar dredges up a reference to Ireva, or the husband brings a rant against Immaculates. And there are ways she can shift the Commander's memories, if subtle actions do not work...

She takes back the scroll, hoping that the message on it is memorized, and prepares for a reaction.

[The_Snark]

Well, that was - direct. She's surprised, though maybe she shouldn't be, because it's always been on the back of her mind, the possibility that he already knows all the things she's trying to keep from him, and she's widening this rift between them for nothing...

"I don’t know," she admits, candidly. "I..." She has to stop to piece her thoughts together, her mind all awhirl. In a way this is a relief, she doesn't like keeping secrets from Kejak, but it's so sudden, she's not quite sure what she wants to say or how to say it. "Your duty comes first. It's who you are; I know that, I've always accepted it. Admired it. You do what you think is right, no matter the cost. But - " She gives him a swift unhappy look, though it's not at all clear (even to her) whether that unhappiness is directed at him, or at herself. "I think maybe the only reason I found that easy to accept was that I was never one of the people who was hurt along the way, before."

And then, before she can stop it from slipping out (does she want to?): "Do you still trust me?"

[Ifni]

Through the Travail of Ages


She snorts at Ireva's comments, lets loose a peel of laughter.

"Did I say 'my Exaltation'? I was here, six centuries ago. This...this was the site of the Seige of Utam; this was where a remnant of the Seventh Legion of the Shogunate took their first fortress. Sun, I wish I could bring all my officers here, even for a little while..."

She walks through the fields of old with reverence. "I knew I fought in this battle when I first read of the tactics used. See - here, and here - the beginnings of the adaptation of the traditional Lookshyian tortoise formation..."

The aged Solar breaks off abruptly.

"Come. Let us pray here, in this ancient place, where our forefathers stood and fought and died. Let us remember their courage, and their bravery."

Ireva shrugs, apparently unabashed, still smiling. "I guess the price of guessing is you sometimes guess wrong. I'm... glad you found this place, Kazei, and that it holds meaning for you."

She falls silent as Zhou speaks - and as he speaks, she seems to grow somehow even more quiet, more still, an absence of reaction that has its own weight.

She waits for a moment to make sure he's finished, and then looks to Fire Orchid. "As for me - your ancestors are not mine to claim, Kazei. My children's, maybe, someday, but not mine. We might have common heroic forefathers, further back in time - but not the heroes of the Seventh Legion."

Her voice is calm, even. Acknowledging a fact.

"But I will gladly pray remembrance with you, if you wish. For all our fallen, and their courage." She steps toward Zhou, looks up to meet his dark eyes. An inadvertent smile curves her lips. "You're right about not drowning the present in the past, but... you helped me realize, love, that there's strength to be drawn from the past, even when it's a bitter draught."

Her gaze turns back to the other Solar. Trying to measure us, are you, Kazei? She waits - wrapped in that calm, in the memory of names carved on no gravestone - for Fire Orchid's response. To Zhou's answer, to her overture. (And it seems... apposite, that a word for reaching out also means the first movement of a longer performance.)

[Ascension]

The Art of Sorcery

Braga's breath hitches in his throat. He should have seen this question coming... did see this question coming, if he's honest about it... but he so fervently wanted to avoid it. It seems it's always come to this, ever since the Heptagram. This is what people want from him. Sesus Denerid Braga, initiate of the Emerald Circle of Sorcery, Master of Demons.

"Are any of your men Exalted?" he asks, but he anticipates the negative answer. He's already asked the chief of the thaumaturges to bring him any Outcastes from among the men, and received no pupils.

Of course, it wouldn't be a simple matter to teach them, even if he had students. He isn't any Salinan master, able to easily pluck lessons out of a student's life history to lay out a path of unconscious initiation. His Silurian understanding requires more formalized training, a greater understanding of symbology and ritual. A learned thaumaturge might grasp it on the march, but a common soldier would have no chance.

He flexes his hands, focuses on controlling his breathing, finding his innermost center of calm. There are times when unpleasant things must be done, for the greater good. It would be criminal to allow the army's crude diabolism to go on uninterrupted.

Sacrifices must be made, the Lesson of Fire teaches. All sorcerers understand that.

"I won't be able to simply answer your red flares. We'll need to plan things out in advance. The summoning can only be begun at sunset, and it requires a great force of Essence, but I can bind them... for a year and a day."

Best not inform the Commander of task binding... he doesn't relish the thought of giving her an army that will serve until the war is complete. He glances over his shoulder again at the Erymanthus amidst the thaumaturgic wards... probably called simply because everyone who's thought to summon up a demon to do battle has heard of Blood Apes. He knows better ways.

"Baidak would serve you best. They have no individual will, so they require oversight in order to be used effectively, but they fight well, and they cannot rebel. No bloodthirst. No malice. They're as efficient and clean as anything one can summon from Malfeas."

Of course, their origin is distasteful, but that can't be helped. Every forsaken thing in the demon realm is twisted in some way or other.

"How many will you need?"

[Maugan Ra]

"But I will gladly pray remembrance with you, if you wish. For all our fallen, and their courage." She steps toward Zhou, looks up to meet his dark eyes. An inadvertent smile curves her lips. "You're right about not drowning the present in the past, but... you helped me realize, love, that there's strength to be drawn from the past, even when it's a bitter draught."

Her gaze turns back to the other Solar. Trying to measure us, are you, Kazei? She waits - wrapped in that calm, in the memory of names carved on no gravestone - for Fire Orchid's response. To Zhou's answer, to her overture. (And it seems... apposite, that a word for reaching out also means the first movement of a longer performance.)

"...true enough." Zhou admits. "The Siege of Utam, you said? I recall reading about it in the academy, but I suppose it just didn't leave as much of an impression on me."

He pauses, looking around the empty field, at the slight disturbances of earth which are all that remains of the once-fierce battle fought upon this land. "What was it like? A discussion of tactics in a textbook centuries later is one thing, but if this is to be a more personal acknowledgement... a sharing of memories would seem appropriate. Speak of the men and women who fought here, as you knew them, how they lived and died and why. Then I can pay true respect and carry that memory with me, as you have."

[industrious]

Kharal Fire Orchid

She doesn't miss a beat.

"How many can you call and bind with minimal risk? Aside from myself and your companions, there are no others in this camp who have taken their Second Breath."

"We are facing the Mask of Winters, Chozei. We must pursue every advantage."

Through the Trevail of Ages

The other Solar nods, accepting Zhou's words without complaint.

"Come, then, fellow Lawgiver. Kneel with me."

The older woman kneels in the middle of the field, ignites a stick of incense.

"Ignis Divine," she murmurs quietly. "We come before you humbly in this ancient battleground to seek your wisdom and to honor your righteous virtue. May you watch over and guide us as you did these warriors of old; may you bestow upon us the virtues of our ancestors past. Let us come to our city already anointed in the oils of victory, that our foes shall face the reflections of your wrath against"

There is the clank of metal against flesh. Kharal Fire Orchid topples, unconscious.

"Chozei Zhou," a voice echoes from the woods, as an awkward, string-bean looking figure with white hair and Immaculate robes emerges from the woods. "Untimely Orchid. Stand aside, please."

"My husband is dead because of people like her. And you told me that she would be grateful for the Immaculate's death," she snaps.

"What do you intend now?"


Chejop Kejak

He looks at her as a stranger for what seems to be a long time.

"...She makes things seem so simple, doesn't she?"

An image of Ireva shimmers into existence between the two Sidereals; her poise and posture unmoving yet perfectly emblematic of the little Solar.

"She speaks, and you can't help yourself; you get carried away in dreams of a better tomorrow. Of a better future. You know that it will be more difficult than she thinks, but...she makes you want to try. She brings a hope, an idea, the potential for something better. It is so easy to like her, to feel the warmth of her sunlit ideas against yours."

He speaks with the pained, wistful tone of the old and elderly. Of the dying.

"You have known her for but a little while, Isa. I knew three hundred for over three thousand years. Not all of them were as idealistic, as committed, as forceful. But..."

Ireva disappears; another image replaces it. Chejop as a younger man - a head topped by a mound of black hair done up in an archaic style, his robes cut strangely. The younger Sidereal is smiling, his arm around a group of strangers, men and women wearing orichalcum and moonsilver.

"They were my friends, Isa. I loved them. There were centuries of courtships and romances, of long campaigns against foes now forgotten in the echoes of history; bonds forged through millenia of cooperation, friendship, love."

"But I knew my duty. Creation is too vast and too important to gamble with loaded dice. And..."

A wave of his hand, and his creations fade away once more.

"My friends are gone now. And the sun rises on Creation and the sun sets, and people live and love and toil and sleep and rise again the next morning, who have not been hacked apart by enemies of humanity, people who are free to lie and steal and plot and complain and accuse and behave in all manner of repugnant ways because Creation still stands. Everyone I knew for so long has faded into time and myth and legend, and I and these strangers, these children, remain. And soon, I will join the ranks of those faceless, unknown dead with all those I knew."

He looks so tired. Weary. No matter the cost. Even to himself.

"The life of a Sidereal, Isa, is a sacrifice to duty. We leave behind who we were before; the world of man forgets our footsteps. We are given wealth beyond mortal compare, luxury to rival the gods...and the ceaseless, thankless task of holding Creation together. There are people, decent people, with the luxury of living their lives without ever having to make such terrible decisions, which I would not wish upon my enemies, and who would curse every act I make, because they have not had to be the one to deal with them. But our lives belong to Fate, to the Maidens, to duty; our Exaltation is a calling, not a reward."

Chejop Kejak looks at her, water near the corners of his eyes, and compassion in every wrinkle, back hunched as he leans on the staff Necessity. If his standards are strict and unyielding...it is because he applies them to himself harshest of all. He has dedicated his life, has sacrificed everything, to the preservation of Creation, to its survival, to the welfare of its people. And he is hated by nearly all.

"The Lady Saturn chose you, Isa," he says, taking her by the hand. "She trusted that you would do the right thing with her gifts. How can I do any less than She whom I serve?"

[Ifni]

Through the Travail of Ages

"It's Kharal Ireva, now," Ireva answers, standing up from where she'd been kneeling beside Fire Orchid. She holds out her hand in greeting, the starmetal ring glittering in the morning light, as she steps between the Immaculate and the fallen Solar. "I'm glad you made it out of Nexus safely, Most Enlightened Master. I was worried for you."

Her mind works frantically, behind the mask of calm. Does he know? Surely not, or he wouldn't simply be asking her to stand aside. There had been witnesses enough in Nexus to tie Untimely Orchid to a Solar with blazing anima, but if he'd been taken from the city unconscious, and not returned there... maybe he doesn't know.

Or he could know, and just be hoping I'll stand aside and make it easy for him, keep lying by silence and let another Solar die, in the futile hope of saving myself. Why not? I did it before...

"I'm glad you're well," she repeats, "but I won't stand aside, Master Nalis -" A little head-dip at that, a gesture of respect, but her voice is firm. "To harm this woman would be to aid the Mask of Winters, to risk the destruction of Lookshy, and that I cannot do."

She swallows. Does he know? Choices, diverging paths. He might listen to Untimely Orchid, Wood Aspect, where he wouldn't listen to an Eclipse - he'd done so once before, after all. But he knows the arguments she and Zhou made in Nexus already, and still he's here, telling them to stand aside. She can hear the determination in his voice, of a man already steeled to his task. Unlikely that he'll be swayed, as he was in Nexus, simply by the novelty of Dragon-Bloods defending an Anathema. Unless he truly didn't know that this army is aimed at the Mask of Winters, not Lookshy or the Realm...

Why should he believe that? Why take the risk? You only believe it because of truth-reading Charms and her sanctified oath. Why should he trust an Anathema's unsupported word? But to explain why it's not unsupported would mean revealing your own nature...

Truth hurts, trust backfires, she's seen it so many times - and honesty can so easily mean death, would have meant death for her in Nexus, if Zhou had made a different choice.

But.

The only path forward here she can see, that might avoid a battle to make the Mask laugh in delight in his far fastness, is not just to challenge Nalis' assumptions but to shatter them.

Is it fair to Zhou? The revelation of her nature would affect him as well. As is, he could walk away from this, Nalis is giving them the choice. But -

The burning houses, and stink of burning flesh. Screams and wild laughter. And afterward the frozen water, and the black rot riming every surface, and the shadows hiding the sun, and parodies of once-loved faces grinning from skulls half-clad with peeling flesh, and worse, far worse, in the darkness beneath the gates...

Ireva glances at her husband, and her jaw sets in resolution. No, he wouldn't want her to walk away from this. Not when Fire Orchid's strength might stand between Lookshy and that future, that memory.

Maybe Nalis knows. Maybe he doesn't. Maybe he knows and is willing to pretend he doesn't, to make an exception for her. Maybe she's about to ruin forever any hope of friendship with a man she admires, any possibility of seeing something other than disgust and contempt in his eyes. Maybe all this worry is for nothing, and the most she'll accomplish is to make him think of her as a slightly less self-serving monster. Maybe this is the choice that will lead to her death, and take that burden from Isa's hands.

Do not fall into despair.

"She swore to me," she says, quickly, "that she would not harm any loyal to the Realm, or see them harmed, until the threat to Lookshy was ended or the Realm betrayed them. And -" Quicker still, and breathless, flinging the words out so she can't take them back, can't let them soften into easier lies. "I sanctified that oath. Like this -"

She meets the Immaculate Master's eyes, clasps her hands together, ring glittering in the light - and then sparkling brighter, in a radiance that exceeds the sunlight filtering through the trees, clear and white and golden. Zhou's ring flashes with color, familiar hues, bright rose-gold of hope and silver-green of terror and the lurking bruised blue of certainty that she is only pitching headfirst into disaster of her own making. And a clear white glimmer of something else.

"I swear in the name of the Elemental Dragons and the Sun most high that I have never employed mind-altering magic to control or suborn any monk of the Immaculate Order or officer of Lookshy, nor will I ever. I swear I mean no harm to the Realm, the Order or Lookshy. And I swear that in private conversation with you and my husband, Most Enlightened Master, I will speak no word that is not true. May Heaven strike me down if I forsake this oath, and may it endure until I pass to Lethe or you release me."

She gulps a breath, as the light and the words of ancient laws swirl about her, in the moment before they fade. "I have lied to you in the past, Master Nalis, by omission at least. I am sorry. I ask your forgiveness."

Ireva sinks to one knee, shielding Fire Orchid's unconscious body with her own. She bows her head, and on her brow the symbol of the Eclipse shines like fire.

"But I was a daughter of Thorns before I was Untimely Orchid or Kharal Ireva. I know the truth behind the tales of the Anathema, and why the Doctrines teach what they do - and still, for the sake of Lookshy and the Realm and the living world, I cannot stand aside."

... let's see what happens. I apologize to Zhou if this backfires horribly.

(I'm just waiting for the rest of Nalis' new circle to come out of the bushes...)

Spending the 10m1wp from Personal to sanctify the oath, and I really hope Nalis knows how Deceiver powers work.

And defending other on Fire Orchid, although since Ireva hasn't drawn a weapon, her stunt-parry DV is going to be pretty bad; I guess she can channel Conviction if it comes to that.

[Maugan Ra]

The moment that he hears the sound of metal against flesh, Zhou moves. Aurora clears the scabbard with a quiet rasp, brought up to a guard position as he shifts his feet and looks around sharply for the source of the attack...

Only to see Cathak Nalis stepping out from between the trees, a sight so unexpected and so far from anything remotely desirable that he actually takes half a step backwards in shock and denial before rallying. On his finger, the Starmetal ring blazes with multiple colours, reflecting the sudden turmoil of emotions surging through his heart.

And then Ireva is kneeling and speaking and golden essence is gathering around her no...

He stops. Takes a deep breath, closes his eyes for a moment, then faces Nalis across the open field once more.

"You have... quite possibly the worst sense of timing." He tells the monk flatly, and everything from the ring on his finger to the way he stands illuminated by the golden light reveals that yes, he knew about this beforehand. "Dragons, Nalis, the headache this is going to cause..."

He sighs, and lowers Aurora, though he does not sheathe the blade. "And no, I will not stand aside. I need this woman, and her army, to help defend my home. And... she is family."

He gestures to Ireva. "You have my wife's word... and yes, I knew what she was when I married her... that she will not influence your mind. An oath sanctified by Heaven, the same one that I received. Please listen for a moment, to me at the very least."

[DeafnotDumb]

Hm. Who was supposed to be grateful for the Immaculate's death? Ireva, or some other Solar friend? Or was this a different Immaculate entirely?

But first, how to respond? Be a politician. Vague, noncomittal, and reassuring, while trying to work out how to get commitment and straight words from your partner. "We will progress as agreed. We just need to first erode her support. Her connections."

"That," 'Asheya' says, "I can start to do right now. Can you confirm her current precise location?"

Give a tent, a place, and if Xet is or has been there then that's evidence. And then...

...once information is obtained, a battle strategy can be made. Change her memory so that her husband was killed while being defended by the good Immaculates - seduce her under the guise of her once-dead love - even try earnest convincing - anything that ends without an assassination. Any sin, as long as it is done kindly.

The idea that the means justify the ends can be just as bad as the reverse, in certain hands.

[Inspector Valin]

Versi and Fire Orchid
"I know, ma'am. And I don't have answers for you."

Versi frowned at that, more irritated with herself than Fire Orchid. It was true. She had worries, suspicions, but nothing firm. She couldn't prove anything, even with her testimony. All it was good for was making her scared. She needed to know more, and didn't have the first idea of how to go about that. Still... the Kazei had listened to her. She knew as much as Versi did now. The young girl looked relieved as she met the older Solar's gaze, if a bit edgy still. "I just... wanted you to know these things. They might be important. You're nice, and care about your soldiers. I don't understand much about politics, or Lookshy, but if this all adds up to something bad for you, I'd like to help."

The young Lunar bowed her head, growing silent for a moment. The next words were... hard to speak. When she did, Versi was slow, a little nervous. "I'm not sure about going back to Lookshy. Before I thought I could pass disguised with my magic. I don't know about that any more. But I'll be with you on this march, no matter what. And if there's anything I can do to help, please say."

[industrious]

Nalis

The monk's eyes slide away from Ireva's with practiced ease; there is pity and contempt in them, for the instant they meet.

"You wear your name well, Deceiver," he says quietly.

"Chozei Zhou. Fellow child of the Dragons."

He addresses the other Dragon-Blood alone now; the two abominations are not worth words or effort. Their fates are etched in every copy of the Immaculate Texts.

"Our two nations remain allies; our leaders stand united in purpose against the threat of the Anathema. I know not what hold these creatures have upon you, but I do not ask you to turn your sword upon them. Sheathe your blade, brother, for I have no wish to hurt you. But do not bar me from my sacred duty and office. Do not break the alliance between our peoples over these two demons."

[Maugan Ra]

"The alliance will stand regardless." Zhou says softly, his voice far too calm given the situation. "If it is for the good of Lookshy, the actions of one Chuzei can be disowned. And yes, I got promoted."

He steps forwards, walking past his wife to stand closer to Nalis, stopping before he approaches sword's reach. "I have reason to stand aside, I will not deny. The Intelligence Directorate sent me here to kill the Anathema warlord leading her forces towards Lookshy, and when we met she tried to bind me to her will with magic - I resisted, but it was not a subtle attempt."

"And yet..." His voice is quiet, but his sword remains drawn if not readied. "I also have reason to stand here. I have been to Yu-Shan and spoken with the God of Exaltation. I have spoken to ones who remember, personally, the Great Uprising... who fought in it, on the side of our ancestors. I have listened to agents of the Bureau of Destiny, who have told me under supernatural lie detection that this course of action is more likely to save my city than to damn it."

He looks at the Immaculate, and there is something difficult to define in his eyes, something that falls halfway between a plea and a heartfelt belief. "Blood and Duty, Nalis. Everything I know tells me that working with these people will help my city survive the coming war. What comes after... I do not know. Can you tell me that I should take that risk, that I should betray those who trust me and stand aside, if doing do will only make things worse for those I love?"

[Ascension]

Demon-Binding

Braga's breath hisses through his teeth. He should, of course, have anticipated that request as well. The Kazei seems every inch the soldier, and strength in numbers is, of course, her concern. To summon demons en masse is a loathsome thing, but at least the Baidak, poor souls, are only empty things, and to fight the Mask of Winters... perhaps it would be forgivable.

"With the support of my hearthstones... perhaps one each night? But I would be unable to march between sunset and midnight. Summoning is not a procedure one can execute while on the move."

He could've just kept his mouth shut and just let the thaumaturges continue in their ignorance. He could have avoided this whole debacle, and any personal culpability in it. But no...

[Aevylmar]

Skandi opens his mouth, then closes it.

"I have no idea," he says honestly. "If your problem is just that one disguise spell, I'm sure there are reliable disguise charms to hide them - I know people who live in Nexus of all places while disguising themselves as non-Lunars - but..."

He gives her a sympathetic look. "At some point, you're going to build a name for yourself. In twenty or thirty years, if you're still alive, you're going to be the legendary hero Versino. The tattoos won't do anything that your undisguised face won't."

[Ifni]

Ireva rocks back, just slightly, at Nalis' words, at the look in his eyes. But that scar is an old one, and the pain is dull. It's no more than she'd expected, than she'd had any right to expect.

She glances over her shoulder as Zhou speaks, trying to judge Fire Orchid's condition. She's surprised that a single blow would knock the other Solar out so easily - is she feigning weakness? Or was there some magic in the thrown... chakram? Knife? Whatever it was - beyond mere force?

Beyond that she remains silent and still. If what she's said already won't help, she can't think of anything else that will. Not yet, at least. If by her posture - as utterly unaggressive as she can make it - and her silence she can say I do not want to fight you, Immaculate Master, and Zhou speaks for himself, not for me, maybe that's the right direction for now. If it comes to a fight... well, then they'll see.

[The_Snark]

He takes her hand, and it is only natural to step in closer, to fling her arms around him. He needs it, the reassurance of physical contact, and she needs to give it.

"I'm sorry, sifu," she mumbles into his shoulder. "I didn't mean - I didn't want this. I don't mistrust you, but I... am a little afraid of you, I think. I'm sorry." She clings harder for a moment. "You're a strong person. I won't hate you for that, I promise. But I don't think I have that kind of strength."

She withdraws a little, enough to look at his face. "Can we talk? About Ireva, about - all of this? I've never tried to talk to you about politics before, not like this; you took me in, and I didn't want to repay that by trying to influence you. But I don't think not talking about it is working."

[industrious]

Chejop Kejak

He smiles at her.

"There, there, child," he says, patting her back softly. "You are stronger than you believe, braver than you feel, and smarter than you know, and wiser than you think. And I am still proud of you."

He withdraws, and there is a table, soft cushions, and a small tea set. He motions for them to sit.

"I will answer any question you have, Isa. I will not lie to you."

"But," he warns, a single finger raised. "You must remember why the Lady Jupiter's domain is Secrets, not Knowledge; Knowledge is acquired, yet secrets are kept. To hold a secret is to change yourself; to reveal it, to change another. I know many secrets, Isa, and I have protected you from so many of them. But they will become yours to bear should you wish it."

"What do you believe, Isa? And what do you wish to know?"

The Art of Sorcery

He closes her eyes as she mulls over his words.

"Two days. We will have to stagger our marches, but one every two days."

She raises an eyebrow at him, inviting him to comment.

The Trevail of Ages

A sad smile graces Nalis's boyish face; the man looks upon Zhou with no small amount of pity.

"You have been Deceived," he says quietly. "I am sorry, Chozei. I have no wish to fight you; I will not attack you. If you attempt to take advantage of this, I pray that whatever will she has left to you understands what he is doing."

His hands flicker as whirling wisps of white air whir through towards Ireva, cutting through the tall grass as they arc towards the kneeling Solar. Fire Orchid seems entirely out cold.


Please roll Join Battle.

Activating Breath-Seizing Technique.

Dex+Martial Arts: [roll0]. 15 sux.



Fire Orchid gives the location of Xet's tent.

"Is there anything else we need to discuss?"

[Ascension]

Demonology

Braga nods, hoping only to not look too eager. While he knows that Fire Orchid would not think of it as such, and she's only keeping in mind the need of the army to remain on the march, being tasked with summoning only every other night is a leniency he had not expected.

"That will do. I am not in any way a skilled leader of men in battle, but the Baidak cannot question orders. Once I have them bound, it will be safe to give command of them to one more adept in the art of war. If it please you, Kazei, I offer them to you."

Should something go awry, of course, the Kazei would stand the best chance out of any in her army of putting the demons down like dogs.

[The_Snark]

Isa follows, settling cross-legged across from him. Part of her would rather be next to him, but there's something to be said for facing one another, she supposes. It doesn't feel adversarial.

"I don't know what to ask," she says quietly. "I was thinking of what I haven’t been saying, when I asked if we could talk. I need to talk to somebody - and I like Ireva, but it can’t be her, because she’s too wrapped up in all of this. So are you, a little, but... There aren't many people I trust." She smiles - lopsided, a little sad - and reaches across the table for a moment, seeking the reassurance of touch again. "But thank you. It - means a lot that you offered."

There are very few people Chejop Kejak would make that offer to; perhaps just one. She couldn't have asked for a better show of trust.

Isa pours herself tea. Her hands are a little shaky, which is utterly foolish. It's a dream, she shouldn't have to put up with that sort of thing.

"I have known Ireva in two guises now, seen her in a dozen different contexts or more. I have a fair grasp of who she really is, I think. I am not sure I would say she offers hope. She has no grand plan, no glorious vision of what the future might be. Her hopes for herself are... small things, such as any mortal might dream of; a place she can call home, a chance to see family again. Her hopes for the world are measured - she wants to preserve Creation, not lift it into an age of wonders. She is more tempered than I thought a Lawgiver would be."

"And she listens, when we talk of the danger she and her ilk present. She takes it seriously. Part of that is because she was raised Immaculate, and the idea taps into old fears. But also because she is the kind of person who listens to others. She can admit ignorance when it's called for, and she accepts truth even when it's hard." She looks up from her tea to meet his eyes. "She reminds me a little of you in that respect, sifu."

"That doesn't make her safe, of course. But I can't help but think that she represents an opportunity. I once asked you if you thought Creation would survive, if we keep on as we are, and you said yes... I'm not so sure. The Vision of Bronze was a long time ago, and there are more things under heaven and earth than were dreamt of in our philosophy. The Deathlords march openly on Creation - the Yozis are stirring and plotting in their prison - the Silver Pact fights us as they always have - and of course the Solars have returned. We've been fighting some of those wars a long time, and we haven't managed to win; I don't think it's reasonable to expect to do so now. But I think there's a very real chance we could lose."

She flicks an apologetic glance at him, because this next part touches on a sensitive topic for him. "There was a Vision of Gold, sifu. Even then, there was a way to work with them, to bring them back from the edge. It isn't categorically impossible. Dangerous, yes, but... so is fighting them."

"So the question becomes: what path is safest now? What offers the best chance of survival for Creation? I don't know. I'm not sure I can trust my judgment. I like Ireva, I even trust her, I want to see what would happen if I let myself be her ally. I don't want her to die. But I like and trust you, too. I don't want -" She fumbles for a moment, because I don't want to walk away like she did seems too blunt even for this conversation. "I don't want to lose you, or hurt you, or disappoint you. So perhaps my judgment is skewed either way."

She smiles, unhappily. It is simultaneously a relief to have all this out in the open, and frightening to admit it aloud after trying not to think about it so long. "You mentioned, once, that you'd tell me someday why the Solar Exalted can't be trusted. I... think that's something I need to know, now."

[Maugan Ra]

The Trevail of Ages

A sad smile graces Nalis's boyish face; the man looks upon Zhou with no small amount of pity.

"You have been Deceived," he says quietly. "I am sorry, Chozei. I have no wish to fight you; I will not attack you. If you attempt to take advantage of this, I pray that whatever will she has left to you understands what he is doing."

His hands flicker as whirling wisps of white air whir through towards Ireva, cutting through the tall grass as they arc towards the kneeling Solar. Fire Orchid seems entirely out cold.


Please roll Join Battle.

Activating Breath-Seizing Technique.

Dex+Martial Arts: [roll0]. 15 sux.



Quicker than the wind itself, Aurora flicks sideways, a brilliant tongue of fire leaping from the edge of the blade to intercept the attack. Two sources of elemental power clash together above the grass, cancelling one another out in a furious if short-lived tempest.

"Ireva." Zhou says quietly, bringing his daiklaive back to a guard position. "I don't know if I can defend both of you. Take Fire Orchid and go, please."

The unspoken line, the option of coming back with reinforcements if she can move swiftly enough, is still clearly audible in his tone. As is regret, the same quiet grief and calm determination that is visible in his every movement as he squares off against the Immaculate Monk across the ancient battlefield. "I do not wish to fight you, Nalis. Every charm I have tells me that I am not... Deceived, as you put it. But I will not let you slay them, not like this."

So, using Lover's Oath to reflexively Defend Other with Portentious Comet Deflecting Mode. Then rolling Join Battle:

[roll0]

[Ifni]

"There's one deceived here, Most Enlightened Master, but it's not my husband." Nalis, Nalis... Still the gawky unpretentious gentle teacher she'd spoken with so briefly in Nexus; still the man who'd been willing to work beside Skandi to save a city; still the man who'd punched his own Sworn Brother through a wall without a moment of hesitation, when he was revealed as akuma. A good man, by every standard she can imagine.

Ireva's voice remains quiet and measured, as the ribbons of swirling cloud are met and turned aside by the burning arc of Aurora. "I could have kept lying to you as well. It would have made things easier, for me at least. But I think you're owed more than the lies you've been given. I know you've lost people you loved, and I'm sorry -"

At Zhou's words her breath catches, words of sympathy cutting off mid-sentence; the ring on the Fire Aspect's hand flashes briefly in pallid hues of sickly green. No, no, don't ask me to leave you...

But he's right, and she is being self-indulgent. Nalis... if she knows Nalis, he won't harm Zhou out of anger, out of vengeance. (Please let it be true.) And Fire Orchid has to live.

She ducks her head in wordless acquiescence - the ring flaring love and worry - and slides her arm under Fire Orchid's unconscious form, preparing to lift her in a fireman's carry. Maybe she can call for help on the wind, can hand off the other Solar to her men and return to help Zhou. That's if they can even get away; Nalis is demonstrably very skilled at ranged fighting. But Zhou thinks this could work, and he's better at warfare than she is...

"I'll speak the truth, Master Nalis, whether you hear me or not," the Eclipse goes on, as her gaze flickers to the horses, measuring distances, gauging what she'll need to do. "Maybe even if you don't listen you'll remember; maybe some day you'll understand, even if it's not today."

The words flow out swiftly, upwelling of a bitter spring from a darkness underground. "I was raised in the Faith too, you see. I grew up in a place where the Anathema rule, and the Doctrines were a lifeline against despair. I worked to raise up the resistance, to fight for the Dragon-Blooded..." Her voice catches, stutters. "I thought I was doing the right thing."

She shifts her position, preparing to push off from the ground and make a dash across the clearing, testing the distribution of weight on her shoulders. "That striving granted me the Sun's power, light in the unending dark. I didn't understand how it could happen. I begged for death, because I thought that light meant damnation, and the destruction of my soul..."

... and the people who'd counseled me and comforted me, who'd helped keep hope alive in the darkness of Thorns - people like you, Immaculate Master, who cares for orphans and tries to save the world as best as he can - had no more words of wisdom; and they died or worse, all of them, for the lie coiled in the heart of our faith; and I'm still trying to understand what it means to lead a good life, when the foundations are swept away...

Her voice has trailed off. She shakes her head, small sporadic motion. "... what would you have told me back then, Master Nalis? Or would you have been one of those who turned away? Hear no evil..." Her smile is like a broken heart.

Her voice drops to a whisper, and she's not really talking to Nalis anymore. "A thousand years of lies don't add up to one truth. Zhou -" One long last look at the Fire Aspect. "I love you."

And then her focus narrows down to the seconds counted out by the hummingbird beating of her heart, and the weight of Lookshy's future on her shoulders, and what must be done.

I think it is extremely likely that Ireva won't be acting before Nalis acts again, so she probably has about the speed of his action to talk :smallwink:

(If I can pick up Fire Orchid and launch myself from the athletic starting position with reflexive movement, great; the only difference it'll make for the moment is whether Ireva's over near the horses or closer to the center of the clearing. If with a suitable stunt I could reflexively pick up FO and move over and vault onto horseback, let me know, but it seems like something that should require a couple of miscellaneous actions to me.)

Also, from rereading the JB rules, I think he has to roll Join Battle to make that attack (since JB "projects hostility or at least intense physical readiness"), and that's his first action? (unless he was trying to conceal his intent, which doesn't seem to be the case) I very much doubt this will matter in terms of invalidating his action, since Zhou rolled poorly and Ireva has a terrible JB pool, but it might make a difference in terms of how many actions he gets before we get to act.

I feel like trying to get away from Nalis is probably going to be pretty futile, but we may as well try. And Strength 2 is apparently enough to pick up a full-grown man, so Ireva (Strength 3) should be okay unless FO is very heavy.

Anyway, Join Battle!
Wits+Awareness [roll0]
Possible stunt [roll1]
EDIT: We are so slooow. I'll just keep talking then :smallwink:

[DeafnotDumb]

Asheya nods. Behind her, Jade Lotus prepares her Essence, building it up like a flood builds up behind a dam: waiting for the one crack that will allow it to break the barrier and advance with all the grace of a torrential monsoon.

"Just keep in mind that our Immaculate is connected." She says. "And that we are no longer playing as alone as we were. So join the game. Play along. Remember our protocols. If I do not follow them, assume it is not me you are speaking to. That was the brunt of what I came here to tell you."

And with a sudden flash, all that Essence is released towards the commander's mind. Jade turns to go, leaving Orchid's memory to reweave to her advantage. If she is going to keep up the deception, the first thing she should do is head to Xet's tent. The spy probably wouldn't object to a little warning.


Comboing the 1st Performance Excellency with Memory Reweaving Discipline. Her Appearance right now is 6 due to Mastery of Small Manners, so Fire Orchid/the demon pretending to be her almost certainly as their MDV at -1.

Spending 1wp 10m on Mastery, and 10m on Excellency for a total of 19 die on memory rewriting. I'm uncertain of how wide an effect Memory Reweaving has, but the first thing Jade wants to do is to establish a history of 'Asheya' using an identification phrase of... say, 'seen the light' or similar metaphors. Hopefully that should trip up the real Asheya when she doesn't give the correct phrase.

If further memory modification is allowed on top of that, some memory of 'Asheya' planning and mentioning the Bright Shard persona and her location in the Lookshy delegation would help.

Okay, roll time:
19 die: [roll0]
stunt die: [roll1]

6/7/8/10 successes on a 0/1/2/3 die stunt.

[Inspector Valin]

"Assuming I decide to start performing epic deeds, Ser Wolf."

Versi laughs, but there's not much humour in the young girl's voice. She's quiet for a few seconds, and when she speaks, her voice is soft. "I don't have a nation. I don't have a past, a history, anything like that. People don't look at me and see a Lunar, a Dynast, a Lookshyan or anything else. They just see some girl called Versi. They don't even think about the name or what it means." She looks up, first to Skandi, then to Braga. The anger and bitterness of the last few days is gone. This is Versi explaining herself and her feelings as best she can. "I like that. I like not being judged. It's one of the wonders of Creation. Anyone can be anything. What you look like doesn't dictate who you are. There's no real Hierachy beyond what you chose for yourself."

The young girl is silent for a few seconds longer, before looking downwards, gritting her teeth. There was no simple option here. No way around it, no best of both worlds. Almost growling at the poor circumstances, she looked back to Skandi. "I don't know. I've got a lot of stuff to think about right now. And you're asking me to make a choice I can't take back."Versi placed a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes, trying to think the matter over. Sighing, she gestured in the direction of the march. "Do I have time to think about this? Could I make my choice after the siege or something?"

[industrious]

Asheya nods. Behind her, Jade Lotus prepares her Essence, building it up like a flood builds up behind a dam: waiting for the one crack that will allow it to break the barrier and advance with all the grace of a torrential monsoon.

"Just keep in mind that our Immaculate is connected." She says. "And that we are no longer playing as alone as we were. So join the game. Play along. Remember our protocols. If I do not follow them, assume it is not me you are speaking to. That was the brunt of what I came here to tell you."

And with a sudden flash, all that Essence is released towards the commander's mind. Jade turns to go, leaving Orchid's memory to reweave to her advantage. If she is going to keep up the deception, the first thing she should do is head to Xet's tent. The spy probably wouldn't object to a little warning.


Comboing the 1st Performance Excellency with Memory Reweaving Discipline. Her Appearance right now is 6 due to Mastery of Small Manners, so Fire Orchid/the demon pretending to be her almost certainly as their MDV at -1.

Spending 1wp 10m on Mastery, and 10m on Excellency for a total of 19 die on memory rewriting. I'm uncertain of how wide an effect Memory Reweaving has, but the first thing Jade wants to do is to establish a history of 'Asheya' using an identification phrase of... say, 'seen the light' or similar metaphors. Hopefully that should trip up the real Asheya when she doesn't give the correct phrase.

If further memory modification is allowed on top of that, some memory of 'Asheya' planning and mentioning the Bright Shard persona and her location in the Lookshy delegation would help.

Okay, roll time:
19 die: [roll0]
stunt die: [roll1]

6/7/8/10 successes on a 0/1/2/3 die stunt.




Nalis

Nalis's ears are closed and his eyes shut from the lies of the Anathema. His hands blur as his chakram hurls towards their three mounts, aims to stop their escape.


9m for a 3-attack flurry, aimed at each of the horses.

Attack 1:
[roll0]

Attack 2:
[roll1]

Attack 3:
[roll2]


Chejop

He nods, smiling and frowning with her, sharing and reflecting each emotion the younger Vizier raises.

"I understand, my child."

He pats the back of her hand, brow furrowed in recollection and thought.

"I fear...that the proper understandings of the Three Visions have been muddled with time, and with the passing of those who received it directly. The Visions come from a deeper place than even our own gifts; they come from our collective Wisdom, and from the insights of the Maidens themselves. They do not end, Isa - they will continue. Our reward for following the Vision is a Creation that will endure forever; diminished, yes, but it will endure."

Every line, every wrinkle, a human life kept safe from the madness of the Solar Exalted. Upon his brow rests the weight of the world.

"The Solar Exalted...cannot be trusted with power. It is their nature to covet more, even with the best of intentions, and to wield it against those they consider enemies. According to your report, Tepet Ireva saved Nexus from a plot by which the leadership would be corrupted, turned against the Confederation of Rivers by means of unnatural influence. In that same Night, Tepet Ireva decided it was her prerogative to dictate the actions of Nexus, and with her own power, carried her intentions through. It was against the Lost City of Thorns, yes - but that she felt it was her right to do so, even so early..."

He doesn't raise his voice. He is calm, and quiet, and sad.

"Even the best of intentions twist themselves easily when the Chosen of the Sun are involved, Isa. I've seen too many noble intentions lead us to dark places. We wanted to prepare for the chance of a Wyld invasion. And when the raksha killed and twisted millions in Operation Wyldhand, it was so easy to continue trusting them."

He closes his eyes, opens them once more.

"There is another secret behind these words, Isa. But that secret is one that I must take to my grave. I cannot utter it, even in a dream."

The Art of Sorcery

"I'll need to train with them, know their capabilities."

She nods again, decisive.

"Inform me when you first intend to summon one. I'll examine the ritual, and you will need to instruct me as to the basics of demonic command."


Kharal Fire Orchid nods brusquely.

"Send up another flare when you want to talk," she says gruffly. "We done?"

[DeafnotDumb]

Jade nods. She needs to find Xet - or Zhou. They need to know of this. "We're done." She says.

[Maugan Ra]

Horses scream and Zhou frowns, grimly watching as their options fall away one by one. His heart hardens in his chest, and with a sigh he begins advancing towards the Immaculate Monk, Aurora held tight in one fist.

"By the Dragons themselves, Nalis, listen to me." He says, Essence surging around him in a shimmering haze as his soul reacts to the presence of the Celestial Exalted. "I need this army. Lookshy needs this army, and right now that means I need the General alive. Whether they are demon or human, whether they honestly want to help or are just deceiving us all with silver tongues, they are better than the Mask."

There is increasingly little distance between the two Dragon-Blooded now, and at such range Nalis can see the desperation and grim determination in Zhou's eyes. "Let them live, let me bring them to Lookshy. Come with me before the General Staff, before the Intelligence Directorate, let them examine me for mental influence and hear my reasoning. Just us, Children of the Dragons, no others. If they decide against me, then even if I cannot obey I will not be able to effectively intervene in whatever happens next."

Just barely beyond sword reach now, Zhou stops, studying his might-be opponent with a careful gaze. "Too many of my people are going to die in this war as it is. I think I have a way of preventing that, of allowing brave men and women and all the innocents they defend live to see another day." He holds out his free hand, hoping against hope that Nalis will listen to his plea. "Please, my brother. By the blood we share, by the bonds we forged fighting side by side, by the hope of unity and peace between our people, in the name of everything that lives in this world... give me that chance."

So, in purely mechanical terms, that's me activating Defense against Anathema method and moving forwards. In other terms...

Well, I know that by the rules we can't socially interact with another character one Join Battle has been rolled, but we've done it before in this game (the last time we saw Nalis, no less) and there are entire generations of appropriate media that says this should be possible. So I'm hoping I can pull off some kind of social Attack/influence that will persuade Nalis to stand down and give this a chance.

I'm not asking him to forsake his faith or betray his people or even really consider the idea that maybe Solar's aren't actually demons. I'm trying to get him to accept that the Mask of Winters is a terrifying and legitimate threat, and that the existence of that threat justifies giving Zhou a chance to explain things to the General Staff. Which should not be utterly impossible, surely.

[Aevylmar]

"Versi..."

He sighs.

"People look at you and see a winged hero wearing shining armor and carrying a relic of ages past, who fights deathknights and is a student - and a daughter - of the local master of sorcery. You have an identity as much as anyone else does. If you want to hide that identity, you need magic or disguise skills."

He's trying to be gentle, but he really doesn't understand her problem.

"Luna looked at you and saw a hero, and she Chose you. It was for a reason, but you were given a job. It isn't a place in a hierarchy, but it is a duty to use your powers, and I'm sorry, but that means that we can't wait until after the siege. You'll need to use your shapeshifting powers in the Lookshy war - perhaps to save lives, perhaps to hide your wings - and every time you use them there's that much greater a risk."

And then his face is somber. "I can give you a day or two, but Versi? Take it from Skandi Kinslayer, Skandi the Exile. Every choice is one you can't take back, and doing nothing is as much a choice as doing something."

[Ascension]

The Art of Sorcery

'The basics of demonic command' are simplicity itself when the demons in question are Empty Pawns, but Braga doesn't discourage Fire Orchid's attentiveness. Her company may be more than a bit intimidating, but the opportunity to teach her some caution regarding demons is too good to pass up... and her presence would be a great comfort should anything actually go awry in the summoning. Automata they may be, but Baidak still resist binding; their first loyalty is ever to Sigereth, their owner.

"Not tonight. Possibly not tomorrow night, either, depending on how well stocked your thaumaturges' stores are. There are preparations which must be made, particularly for summonings on this scale. Demons are willfully forgetful. It can take a great deal of effort to remind them to honor their progenitors' oaths. I'll begin the work immediately, and I will inform you as soon as we are ready for the demons' arrival."

In all likelihood, Braga knows, the first of the Commander's future infernal soldiers has already begun crossing Cecelyne's expanse.

'Hopefully without any hijackers in tow... I do love Versi, but one is enough for a lifetime.'

The Tattoos

Braga coughs softly, reminding the two Lunars that he's still there, hovering at the edge of the conversation.

"Skandi..." he says, cautiously, in a tone gentler than any he's used with the Wolf before, "She is still a child. And you're right, she is Chosen, but she didn't choose this."

He wraps her hand in his, and his worry comes to the fore.

"She's still hurt from the last time she faced death. I think... I think maybe we shouldn't ask her to fight this war. Her time will come to be a hero. A Steward of Creation. But... maybe it hasn't come yet."

This isn't obstinacy, or distrust of the Northern barbarian, this is simple fear... and hope. Fear for Versino's life, and hope that she might yet have some slim chance at being a normal girl, if only for a little while.

[Aevylmar]

Skandi, assailed from two directions, sighs and gives in.

"Versi will need to make her decision eventually, but... here, I'm just the messenger. Would you be willing at least to come with me and meet the Loremaster, to explain your reasons as to why you don't want to get tattooed yet?"

[Ifni]

Ireva watches, but as Zhou stretches out his hand to Nalis she squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, and tries not to remember. It doesn't help: the images painted in the dark behind her eyelids are just as vivid. Her sister, tall, beautiful, proud, trying to break and remake her people's deepest-held sacred beliefs with heartfelt words and strength of will, flinging herself into a crucible to prove that she was right -

And failing, fallen, on that rainy night. Leaving a dream broken, and those who'd shared that dream abandoned in the dark, to death and worse than death.

So yes, Isa, I know the beliefs of the Immaculate faith won't be undone quickly: not by a Solar's good intentions, or a Dragon-Blood's passion. I know it very well.

Some memories are like scars: written in blood and bone, carved into her flesh, and not easily denied. Some understandings are like that, too.

Ten years she carried Remembrance.

There is hope, still, tugging at her heart. A deadly flower, addictive as the cruelest drug of Nexus' streets, seeded there by Zhou, by Isa, by Ayesha, even by Fire Orchid and her oath. By Nalis himself, those scant weeks ago when he agreed to fight at Skandi's side.

But unreasoning hope can betray. Betray a memory, a trust, a future. Wanting something doesn't make it so. And there is no less at stake now than there was in Thorns, ten years ago - Lookshy may not be home to her, not yet and maybe not ever before the end, but it is a living city and Zhou's heart lies there.

Ireva rises silently to her feet, lifting Fire Orchid with - if not ease, not great effort either. Steadying the Zenith's limp body with one arm, she reaches into her coat with the other, and draws her golden sword one-handed, resting the tip on the leaf-mulch. The hidden dragon shimmers in the blade, like a haze of tears, in the green-shadowed sunlight falling through the trees. Resolve, as yet unblooded.

She looks up to meet Nalis' eyes for a moment - her own are sorrow-weary, and bitter, and older than her years; she's not hiding much else here, why bother to feign smooth serenity? - and then looks away.

Not quickly. Not easily. No course that doesn't risk betraying something precious. No sure route to the future she can only dimly imagine. There is one she'd look to first for guidance, for the right path to follow, but that compass is far away.

There is this choice: learn the lesson of Thorns, and do not try for the impossible. Strike now, as quickly as may be. Zhou will likely want Nalis kept alive, but if he should fall, here or later at Fire Orchid's hands... good men and women die in this war every day, for far less cause than the salvation of Lookshy.

Tepet Ireva had asked to die, after all, for the bare hope of the salvation of Thorns.

But Tepet Ireva had also whispered to the sea, ten years ago, We need only change the world, and she'd known even then it was naive and foolish and impossible, but...

... trying, you can fail. People fail, and break, and die, all the time. Every day, every hour. Some walls are too high to climb. Some hatreds too old. Some dreams impossible to achieve.

But wanting doesn't make anything true. Trying isn't enough but without it nothing can change. Nalis risked his life on my word and Zhou's in Nexus, he agreed to fight beside Skandi against the infernalists, even though he's lost those he loved to this war; do I repay that with a daiklave's edge? While Zhou is still trying, can I do less?

... and maybe the horse will learn to sing.

She draws a drop of white-gold sunlight, to sense the strained tense currents of emotion eddying around the two men, to test whether assaying those waters will only make things worse. As understanding comes -

The Eclipse sets down the hilt of Resolve gently, respectfully, and takes three steps back (albeit not so far back that she could not leap to Zhou's defense if necessary). The great orichalcum blade forms a bright line in the dark earth, between the pair of Solars and the two Dragon-Bloods: a gesture of good faith, and a promise not to flee, and in the azure gem glowing softly in the blade's hilt, perhaps something that Zhou can use to his advantage. Her husband saw the hearthstone work on Elegance's victim in Nexus, with his own eyes, and Nalis might be loremaster enough to recognize the Water gem.

From the scabbard at Fire Orchid's waist, hanging loose now, Ireva maneuvers the Zenith's jian free, and holds it low in front of the unconscious Kazei in a guard position. The steel is only a nominal shield against jade and elemental power, of course - Aurora and Zhou's skill are her true defenses here - but she can try to offer at least a little help, in guarding his kinswoman. (And she would rather prefer not to have that sharp-honed steel sliding back and forward in its sheath, a half-inch from her ear.)

"Maybe you are right, Master Nalis, and I am a deluded demon, a monster who thinks she's a woman." Her voice, still quiet, is growing rough with emotion, imperfectly suppressed. "My oath can only hold me to what I believe to be true. If you are right, and every word I speak will corrupt regardless of my intent -"

It's the old cold fear, never quite quelled, buried with the memories of Arkadi and just as much of a lingering ghost. The raiton on her shoulder, croaking wordless warning, the echo of her foremothers' faith. Steeped in that same faith, maybe it's something Nalis can believe as well, a demon who's come to identify with its devoured host's past; if he knows how the oath-swearing works he might even seize on it, as a way to reconcile Anathema with truth-bound and not ask harder questions. Not enough for the long future, but maybe enough to begin with, if he can believe at least that her hatred for the Mask is real...

"You have my silence. Until you're satisfied."

Her gaze flickers to Zhou once more, a brief look like a caress, before she deliberately turns her face away, lest Nalis accuse her of more subtle forms of communication. This is Zhou's fight now, in heart and mind before it comes to chakram and daiklave; what she can do is trust him. And hope that Nalis will keep trying to convince Zhou and keep listening in return, and that her actions and her silence will speak louder than her words.

OK, firing Mastery of Small Manners reflexively immediately before my turn, to try to figure out Nalis' current emotional state and give me a clue as to whether what Ireva's planning in the second half of this post is going to screw up Zhou's attempt at calming this down - she would really like to support what he's doing, not sabotage it.

(If I need to do it on my action rather than immediately beforehand, I will combo it with my combat Reflexives; I am not sure whether this counts as a combat Combo or not. If it does, there will be an Obvious display; note that Ireva is not speaking at that point, so hopefully it won't be mistaken for a mind-control Charm.)

I am assuming Fire Orchid's jian is not an artifact, if it's of Lookshyan make. If I'm wrong about this, or what I've written here doesn't work for some other reason, just let me know and I'll edit that line to Ireva pulling one of her spare swords out of her pocket.

If the full post goes ahead as stated, the flurry is:

(1) Stand up with Fire Orchid (not sure if kneeling counts as prone, assuming that it does for these purposes)
(2) Draw Resolve (one-handed, so rather clumsily) and put it down
(3) Draw jian
(4) Defend Other on Fire Orchid

"The horse will learn to sing" is a reference to this traditional story (http://www-personal.umich.edu/~jlawler/aue/sig.html), which translates fairly easily to Creation.

[The_Snark]

"I'm not trying to persuade you, sifu," Isa says softly. Mostly true. Some small part of her hoped for it, but she hadn’t expected it. It wasn’t why she spoke up. "I just - didn’t want to go on not saying anything."

She shifts, uncomfortable. It isn't that he disagrees with her, she knew that much before she said anything. It isn’t that he won't share everything; she’d never expected to be entrusted with all his secrets, so it's no sting to be told that some cannot be shared. And it isn't his criticism of Ireva, exactly, because the Nexus incident is troubling, in more ways than he knows. Part of her wants to explain, tell him the parts he doesn't know, tell him how Ireva reacts to the memory now - and more importantly, that she'd freely shared the details. That is no empty gesture. They are on the same side, as long as Ireva is in her right mind, and whatever madness afflicts Solars has not consumed her wholly. (Yet.)

But she meant what she said. She doesn't want to be drawn into a debate, doesn't want to feel like she's taking advantage of this closeness (a rare, possibly unique privilege with Chejop Kejak) to argue for an agenda. No matter how uneasy his line of thinking makes her. Besides, what could she possibly say? He's had a thousand years to think on this, and no doubt heard every argument or criticism possible from a dozen mouths. If she asks but how do you know that's true, it will not be startling and new. Perhaps she ought to ask anyway, in case his explanation soothes her... but she has a hard time imagining that it would, and if she's perfectly honest with herself, she doesn't want it to.

The silence stretches on, threatening to become awkward. There is something else she’s been wondering about - the issue that sparked this conversation, in fact, though it’s veered elsewhere. Isa clears her throat. "There's something else. I'll understand if you can't talk about this either, and you might not even know, but... the Nocturnals, the Khaibitu-em-Betu-Tuf. We see them as enemies, and they see us the same way, if the one I met was any indication. They pose some risk to the Loom, I understand that much. But why? What are they, what do they want? Can you tell me?"

[industrious]

Chejop

The old man's brow furrows and he leans very, very closely towards his apprentice. He whispers his words as if afraid of eavesdroppers - even in the dreamworld the two inhabit.

"The nature, the motive, of the Khaibitu-em-Betu-Tuf is a Great Secret, Isa. I learned it from the lips of the Lady Jupiter, and it is only with her grace I may be permitted to tell you."

Chejop Kejak's hand comes very gently down, to rest on Isa's collarbone.

"If you wish to receive this secret, then you cannot reveal it to anyone, Isa. Not to Anys Syn. Not to Ayesha Ura. Not to Tepet Ireva. Or the Lady of Secrets will know, and the blessings and protections you enjoy from her* will be withdrawn. This comes from the Most High, Isa."

"Are you prepared?"

*There are many blessings attributed to Jupiter. Privacy and the sanctity of one's own thoughts are considered divine gifts among some mystery cults.


Sometime later, after drinks and food, and quiet, subtle interrogation, Jade Lotus discovers that Fire Orchid was in a strategy meeting while the two of them had their talk.


Resist the Commands of the Anathema, and Do Not Fall Into Despair

As his deluded brethren's Essence ignites in response to the presence of the foul demons he defends, Nalis cannot help but pity the poor man.

"I am sorry that she has such a hold on you, my brother."

He shifts his weight forward, backwards, swaying in a wind of his own design, a chaotic buffet that sends him there and here and there again. The grass beneath their feet scatters; shoots and clods of dirt turn to brown-grey mist, and the robes of the Immaculate grow muddy and stained.


Activating Air Dragon Form; He's not persuadable with NMI. He is going to kill Ireva and Fire Orchid; if he has to, he is going to kill Zhou.

You both may want to roll Perception+Awareness.

[Ifni]

Do Not Fall Into Despair

As Nalis speaks Ireva bites her lip; the sword in her hand trembles for a moment before she steadies it. To attack Nalis would feel like... blasphemy, and failure as well. They should have been able to do better; she should have been able to do better. More than almost anything, she does not want to harm the Immaculate Master. But not more than anything, not when the Mask is marching on Lookshy, not when - as she can sense now - Zhou's life is at risk here as well.

She promised silence and so she does not speak; her green-eyed gaze darts around the clearing one more time, searching, probing, looking without hope for something that will change that answer, for a hint to a different path. Her senses feel sharp as knives, honed by fear and the sense of impending battle, time slowed to the beat of her racing heart.

An ancient battlefield, where a remnant of the Seventh Legion of the Shogunate took their first fortress; maybe this is an auspicious site, for a far smaller-scale struggle that may yet decide the fate of Lookshy. And yet in the golden-green twilight filtering through the leaves above it still looks so peaceful: a place to pray and remember, not a place where Exalts should shed each others' blood for the Mask's distant amusement.

Peaceful - except for the screams of the horses, the blood on the leaves. Except for Fire Orchid's unconscious body over her shoulders. (At the thought she shifts her hand slightly to test once more the pulse-beat in the older Solar's arm.) Except for the sword in her hand.

War gives birth to the greatest glory, Fire Orchid had said, and her heart had protested with all the fury and grief of the child who had fled through fire and darkness, holding Firada's hand - war is something to be suffered. But that child knew as well that peace does not come for the wishing, nor without a price.

And so it is at last that her gaze comes back from its sweep across the clearing, to focus on Nalis, and there is resolve in her eyes.

No action yet, just writing an explanation for Ireva's highly uncharacteristic level of awareness here :smallwink: And possible stunt dice:
[roll0]
EDIT: OK, so probably just the 4 successes on 2 dice from the OOC thread. I rather hope that's enough to notice something; if not, there really wasn't much point in asking Ireva to roll.

[The_Snark]

Though the answer seems obvious - she hasn't spoken about this to anyone, much less Anys Syn or Ayesha Ura - Isa considers carefully. A secret, once given, cannot easily be taken back. Can she hold this close? Stormwrack shared what he knew with her (some, at any rate); now she will not be able to return the favor. She won't be able to confide in Ireva - although she could tell her of Burning Waters' survival, if she chose. She thinks the other woman would understand if she said she could not share everything.

Yes, she decides. Befriending Ireva has helped to fill a hole she wasn't aware of before it was healed; confiding her doubts and hesitations to Chejop Kejak, who is as a grandfather to her, has helped to soothe the knot of worry in her gut. But there is still a love of quiet and solitude in Isa's heart, just as there was when she left everyone she knew behind to bury the dead in the wilds of Linowan. Neither Kejak nor Ireva knows all her secrets. She can bear this one, too.

Besides, turning away wouldn't actually help. She's already caught up in this secret, whatever it is.

"I understand," she says quietly, matching his tone. She meets his eyes, and nods. "I am."

[DeafnotDumb]

Interesting.

Sadly, she couldn't do too much about it. Out of Essence, limited contacts...

She needed to warn Xet. And then Ireva and the Chuzei. Where had they gone?

OOC: Already talking to Xet in this googledoc (https://docs.google.com/document/d/1fd9QilaGzqj4SCYFonlFy9qDaf9DdaLvQppR8qAUMsA/edit). Is meeting up with Zhou and Ireva possible? It's certainly not advisable to go into a fight scene with no Essence, but Jade doesn't know that is where she's headed.

[Ascension]

Conversation Without Communication (Jade and Braga)

Bright Shard is waiting for Braga as he leaves the tent. It’s uncertain how she found the man, but he does know that there are many talents of hers that she’s left unrevealed. If she’s what Versi suspects…

...but onto more pressing matters, namely that she does not look pleased with him. At a guess, this is going to be -

“Sesus Denerid Braga.” She says coolly. “I thought we might want to talk about that conversation we had on the Frostwing. I think that for our benefit - both of our benefit - we should set a few matters clear so that we can work well together. If that’s okay?”

She waits for him to come to her. This is not the shy crafter - rather, he’s facing the woman who has taught truant childs of tyrant scavenger lords. There is very definitely a Point About To Be Made.

“I know you thought you were being gracious with that speech,” she says with quiet firmness, forged in the heart of earlier shyness “But please, Sesus, consider what you are doing. To reduce someone to a mere stereotype - their entire history to a flat theatre role - is, well…” she waves a hand at the Dynast himself “...should I make a lovely little speech about you, Realm to the bone? Good as it might feel, I imagine that it would miss out a few details. That’s the problem with stereotypes.They blind you. If you’re not careful, you can…”

She waves her hand about, searching for the rest of her sentence, and picks an example completely at random.

“...have your delusions manipulated by, say, a spy who knows about how Realm crafters react to Lost Eggs and uses that to sneak into his company and play to his expectations, all the while letting his blind spots and gentle, placid superiority do most of the work for her. It would be terrible if that happened, wouldn’t it?”

Staring innocently and guilelessly at him, Shard gently coughs into her hand. “Hint, hint.” She finishes happily.

Braga scowls in response to Bright Shard’s… or the woman playing Bright Shard’s… insinuations and accusations. He’d been properly cowed before when she told him off for reducing her to a set of broad assumptions, but that was before he witnessed her ability to completely change her form, and before he found out that the alleged Air Aspect carries a weapon of Orichalcum. Does he have any reason to give credence to anything she says now?

“Was it such a crime to reduce Bright Shard to a flat theatre role,” he asks, “if that’s what she was?”

He waves a hand in her direction, vaguely encompassing the totality of the woman standing before him.

“You’re standing there and admitting you manipulated me… and I saw you change your whole self into that soldier. I apologized after the last time we spoke, and I meant it, but now I’m wondering if it might not should have been you apologizing to me. Is any of ‘Bright Shard’ even true?”

He’s too tired to want to play games right now.

There’s a shrug. “Trust me, I know my roles.” She says. “Bright Shard - poor, struggling Scavenger Land craftwoman - was offended at that moment. I don’t think she was wrong to be. But my point, since it is now better to be blunt, was that your assumptions allowed me to manipulate you with far less effort than the rest of the group. They each picked up on the hints that I was not what I seemed and you… never did.”

She looks up at him, eyes serious.

“I’m going to return the favour and guess your history.” She says. “But do correct me anyplace I’m wrong. You’re obviously a Dynast and yet you cannot detect the lies of a fine court. Your family life must have been difficult for you-”

Her face grimaces.

“-You know what? This isn’t actually fun.” She prods Braga firmly in the chest. “And I was looking forward for the chance to get to break down a stuck-up Dynast. Look, let’s set this simply. My offer of help still stands. The Chuzei wouldn’t let a soldier go out without some self-defense training, and likewise I cannot let you leave without some ability to defend yourself from liars like me.”

“It’s your choice, Chozei…” She says, backing away and hands up. Her dislike of him is obvious right now, but so is her determination. “...but you do have a daughter to look after. I want to help you protect her. Is this acceptable?”

She pauses, holds her arms in front of her, and bows. It’s from the Realm courts - and not her previous bow of supplication, the one she’d used to unbalance Braga, but one between equals. “Please.”

Braga almost marvels at the ability of the woman who plays Bright Shard to wave away the implications of her own actions, grouping Solar trickery and the manufacture of false identities from whole cloth in the same category as “the lies of a fine court.” He remembers the old stories, the most ancient histories he has read. The Solar Exalted are not the Immaculate Creed’s Anathema, no, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be dangerous.

“I don’t know who you are,” he says, taking a step back and raising a warding hand before him. The outstretched hand quivers slightly. “I can’t know who you are, given your skill. You are right that I should guard my mind better than I have, but I think the first step in doing so is to acknowledge that I can’t trust you. If you do have my best interests in mind, if that much, at least, is true, I hope you will accept that decision.”

He shifts his feet again. He could run from this stance, but she might also recognize that his new posture is close to the way he holds his body in battle.

“I may ask the Chuzei’s wife to help me. To be more secure.”

“That is satisfactory.” Shard says wrily. “She is good at what she does. And not trusting me is one of the smartest things you’ve done since saving your daughter, I suspect.”

Well, so much for directness and honesty in her approach. Jade knew there was a reason that she didn’t tend to use those things. She shrugs, and steps aside from Braga’s warding hand with an amused eyebrow. The man is so Dynast: even with an Anathema for a daughter he cannot help but try and ward her away like she was a demonic spirit - it was almost flattering. No matter how far the man ran, he would always bring the Scarlet Empire with him in his bones. Poor fellow. Should she tell him that you always brought your past with you, or let him work it out?

“That said, we should probably try and establish some kind of… working relationship.” The Anathema says. “Basically establishing boundaries, talking over a few guidelines, getting to a stage where even if we don’t trust one another, we will at least work together against the Mask rather than each other. We are likely to spend more time in each other’s company than the Deathknights, and mistrust festers with proximity.”

Oooh, nice phrasing. She was going to have to remember that one. And… well, she should probably say this, if only to avoid Versino doing something silly later without realizing the consequences…

“On this newfound ‘honesty’ fashion, I should mention that my employer - the Lookshy Justicar you met - hired me to keep an eye on you and dear Versi specifically. Now, I suspect this was a wild goose chase, but… do be careful. It would be a shame to see her hurt.”

There is a pause as the spy thoughtfully inspects her last sentence. “That’s pretty poor phrasing. Do you think I could be more vaguely menacing if I tried?” She says, and strokes an imaginary goatee like a cut-rate actor. “Do be careful, heh heh heh, it would be a shame…. no, too overdone.”

Her attempt at humor is lost on Braga, and her admission that she’s in league with that shady Lookshyan intelligence officer hardly improves his opinion of her. His eyes flash and spark, and blue electricity arcs between his outstretched fingers.

“Are you THREATENING my daughter?” he roars in a voice like a hurricane. “Your employer, what does he want with her?”

Shard’s actress is Chosen of the Unconquered Sun, and Braga is but a lone Terrestrial scholar, but fear for his life is the furthest thing from his mind.

“If the Mask of Winters is who you’re opposed to, why are you playing these games with my daughter and with me?” he spits, his voice bitter venom, “What you do, what that ‘Man of Illusion’ does, it isn’t funny.”

Jade steps back hastily, hands up in the universal gesture of surrender. She’s no combatant and the sight of the angry father, crackling with the thunder of the storm, reminds her of the fact that even this scholarly Dragon could deal serious harm to her.Her eyes widen, her breathing shallows and her mask is lost in a picture of fear. Only for two breaths, true, but it’s there: even Braga can see it before its swallowed.

“I don’t have plans regarding your daughter.” She insists, finding her back up against a tent. One of her hands instictively twitches towards her Orichulum wheel. “If I did, I wouldn’t mention this to you. How could it possibly be to my advantage? I was worried for her.”

She forces her hands to drop, and looks around to make sure the scene hasn’t attracted too much attention. Her voice lowers. “I don’t know what my employer wants with her. That’s what’s worrying. If it’s just a ploy to distract me, that’s fine, but... I wouldn’t trust him, and I worked for him. Because I work for him.”

The slight drift into white lies, deception by omission or implication, comforts her. Honesty hasn’t precisely been a winning tactic this conversation. Maybe it’s her fault, too - passing up the chance to taunt a true Dynast is too much for her subconscious. Heh. So much for superior etiquette.

“This is what I mean by working relationship, Chozei.” She insists. “One conversation and we’re ready to fight each other. What concession do you require from me that you could possibly trust?”

That brief glimpse of pure fear on Shard’s face is what pushes Braga’s anger back down from its boiling point. Her backpedaling regarding her employment with Lookshyan Intelligence is only moderately persuasive, but that terror… Braga has a hard time imagining even a Solar master of disguise feigning fear that well. His hand lowers, though his stance remains on guard, and sparks still dance at the corner of his eye.

“Your skill with lies… and my lack thereof, that’s the greatest obstacle to trust,” he tells her, “for I can’t discern your honesty from your falsehoods. But… a name would be a good start. You’ve admitted that Bright Shard is a role. What can I call the woman wearing her face? What is your true name?”

Reluctantly, he forces himself into a more relaxed posture, and tries to soften his features. This isn’t a demand, at least not yet. He’s trying to make as polite a request as he can manage under the circumstances.

“If I’m going to try to work with you, I need to know who you are.”

Shard stares at his face for quite a while. She opens her mouth. She closes her mouth. This repeats a couple of times as the conwoman sorts through the varying definitions of ‘real’ to find the one that is most useful to her. Eventually, there is a polite little cough.

“I’m going to assume you mean the name I was born with,” She says carefully, “in which case my name is-”

mumblemumblemumble.

Shard waits for Braga’s face to light up in recognition, and slowly realizes that it hasn’t. “Okay,” she says, eyebrows crossing, “it’s not that difficult. My name is-”

mumblechmumbleboxgirlmumble.

There’s an awkward silence as the spy glares defiantly at Braga Sesus Denerid, he of the noble and historied and respected dynastic name. Her foot taps. “Chaitheteaboxgirl.” She says all at once, rushing it out. “And you will do me the favour of realizing that if I was going to make up a name, I’d take one less completely embarrassing.”

Is it any wonder she’d become a spy, with a name like that? Honestly, if only they’d applied a little imagination... “...you are also under no circumstances to call me by that name, let me be clear.” She adds firmly.

Braga can’t help but chuckle slightly, more at Chai’s embarrassment over her old name than at the name itself, and while that probably doesn’t do anything to ingratiate him to the spy, it does relieve a bit of his tension.

“Now there,” he says, smiling, “that wasn’t so hard, was it? All trust requires is… a little give and take. A little honest communication. You can see, can’t you, that if all you give a person is lies, the only thing they can trust you to do is lie to them?”

His expression grows more serious. With his anger ebbing, some genuine concern for Chai comes to the fore… and with it, like an inexorable tide, his reflexive, unintentional condescension.

“You know, I think it would be good for you, too. Trying to be a little more honest when you can be, I mean. Even the greatest actress has to step offstage sometimes. Take off the mask or the make-up. Cultivate real friendships. A real life. What can you really have, if no one knows who you really are?”

“How…” Chai’s lips twist. “...paternal.” A father in everything, it seems.Concerned, honest, advisory… blinded, outdated and controlling. Carefully, the conwoman reminds herself that this is not just another idiot patronizing Dynast: this is an idiot patronizing Dynast she has to work with. Convincing his memory that he was originally a duck would Not Help future matters.

“I’m going to guess,” She says carefully, “you don’t see why that would offend anyone? In terms of, ah, etiquette lessons? Once again, you have presumed to know everything about my motivations, this time mere moments after complaining about how little you knew about me. On the basis of a name. My life of lying is perfectly comfortable, Denerid. It’s honesty that gets concerned fathers threatening me.”

“I’ve had twenty more lives than you, Braga, at twenty years the junior. Please stop trying to put each of them into a neat little box.”

He examines Chai’s face closely, his sharp eyes tracking each minute movement of her muscles, his thick eyebrows furrowed in concentration and concern. He looks for doubt, he looks for self-delusion… He finds none, but he wouldn’t, would he? He can identify the minutest flaw marring an ancient wonder’s Essence channels, deduce its cause, provide its remedy… but this Bright Shard, this Tea-Box girl, has demonstrated repeatedly and vividly that the human mind is opaque to him, its workings a realm unknown.

After a long moment, he shakes his head sadly.

“I could not live as you do. I hope for your sake that you are as happy as you say, but I can’t imagine how.”

He shifts uncomfortably, aimlessly adjusts the artifact bracer on his right arm. It seems as if conversations with Bright Shard are always a draining experience. He’s not sure how much longer he can keep this up. He shakes his head again.

“We are very different people. But we can work together, at least for now. Facing deathknights… everyone should be able to agree on an enemy, at least.”

Jade lets her body sink into relief as Braga concedes the point, or at least to cooperation. The Dynast has been oddly difficult to speak with today, probably due to her relative honesty - it’s not like a solid man of the Realm would appreciate her recent confessions. Dynasts always seemed to prefer for deception to be a luxury available to them alone.

Not as that is Braga’s viewpoint, she forcibly reminds herself. Not unless he’s a much better actor than even her. Argh, all this self-reflection is tiring her out… “Well, Im glad that’s sorted” She trills happily, clasping her hands together. “The offer to teach you and your daughter etiquette and, indeed, deception still stands, though given your reasons I understand if you refuse. Helping on artefacts, though, might be more acceptable…”

She shrugs.

“I didn’t get to be Bright Shard without at least some knowledge of how things fit together.” She offers, her mind already running through if this could get her a look at Fire Orchid’s armoury. “And I’m fairly sure I can’t trick a slice of metal, so your worries can rest assured there.”

For a moment, his lip curls downward again. With the remains of the Frostwing left behind (a loss which Braga doubts Lookshy will let the Chuzei, or any of his subordinates, soon forget), and the Commander’s thaumaturges and demons to deal with, he has little artificing work to concern himself with, and even if he did, he wouldn’t want her intruding on his own area of expertise, trying to take that as well as…

...no, no. He takes a breath, calms himself. Chai might not have won his full trust, but she deserves fairer treatment than that. She’s offering help, not trying to usurp him… even though, with the Sun’s gift within her, she could likely at least match, if not exceed, his own hard-earned talents. She’s being nice. He needs to acknowledge that.

He gives a half hearted smile, a polite bow.

“I’ll be certain to keep that in mind. And if you need any help I would be capable of providing, feel free to come to me.” He dips his head once more before adding, perhaps a touch too hopefully, “But for the moment, there are other matters to attend to.”

Shard returns the bow, and it’s a bow from the Realm - but not the subservient style she’d used back on the Frostwing to drive home a pointed bite, but rather the bow that might be done from one Dragon to another, one soldier to their comrades… someone to their equal, in short.

“I appreciate the offer.” She says, and lets him. This conversation has been oddly exhausting, with its focus on honesty and truth and the immaterial, unreliable nature of both. It is odd that Braga relies so much on such unreliable things, or that he places so much store by a meaningless collection of syllables that was simply what the first person to pick her up called her… is it because of how he left his family that he relies on these things so much?

Well, thankfully, it is over. And now she needs a distraction from all that… thoughtfully, her fingers encounter a green flare hidden in the folds of her dress. She examines it carefully.

Hm. Well, what was the worst that could happen?

[Inspector Valin]

Versino tenses a little as the two adults speak around her. Skandi's words had struck a slowly boiling nerve. The little girl took a step back, looking upwards to meet the wolf's eyes directly. When she spoke, her voice was pointedly calm. "I know about choices, Skandi. I know about risk. I chose to walk Cecylene to get here, with a barrel as big as myself on my back. The first humans I ever saw were dynasts who witnessed my Exaltation after being summoned up from Malfeas like a proper Anathema. Because Luna apparently has a sense of humour." She looked downwards, sighing slightly, careful not to catch Braga's gaze. "The only reason I survived that was because of one stupid man who threw away everything he had for a girl who didn't even speak his language. A stroke of fate I didn't deserve."

Pause. Versi took a breath before continuing, starting to grow a little calmer. "You're right, I'm not just a girl, or a scholar. I can pretend but that's not me. I'm Versino the Traveller, Chosen of Luna. Someday I'll have proper titles, myths and a legend. I am who I chose to be, I walk the path I chose to take. And I refuse to let that be decided for me. By the Immaculates or the Silver Pact. I will learn about the world and chose my path as I do."

One last burst of anger. The young sorceress breathed out deeply before chuckling, glancing between Skandi and Braga. "I'll see the Loremaster. I'll talk with her, and think about it. What happens after that... you'd have to ask Sacheverell. But I've got enough magic to disguise myself if I have to, you know that. I don't need to steal someone else's form. This is something I'll have to think about. Where I stand in the world and what needs to be done to help it."

[Ascension]

"Versino!" Braga hisses as soon as he realizes what she's saying, a warning and a reprimand, but she keeps talking, spilling secrets close kept since her advent into Creation, laying her past out for Skandi to see. Bright fear shines in his eyes.

He could try explain it all away as the product of an overactive imagination, but that would be such a hollow excuse, and Versi would resent it. But to tell Skandi like this! The last time the barbarian knew a secret of Versi's, he passed it to Ireva, and from her it passed to the Chuzei, and perhaps to Xet... The truth has been loosed now, it won't easily return to shadow.

"She's human," he interjects, defensively, before the Northerner has any chance to voice a reaction, "Despite where she came from, and how, she's just what she seems to be. She's just a girl, Skandi." He stands beside her, places a hand on her shoulder. "She's a human girl. And... maybe now you can see why I'm so adamant that she be allowed to live as one. Just once. Just for a little while."

[Aevylmar]

Skandi sighs. Versi's had her adventures, it sounds like.

"I'm sorry, Braga, because I know this sounds cruel...

But I cannot understand - literally cannot understand - what you mean by a normal life, or, if it precludes being a hero, why anyone would *want* it. A normal girl dreams of being a hero, and prays for the strength to go through with it. I can't imagine anyone who wouldn't." And then an odd smile, to Versino. "And at some point you'll need to tell me the context behind those adventures. But I understand you want to make your own decision. And I hope you make the right one."

He shakes his head.

"Either way, though, you don't have to decide until we meet the Loremaster, and hear what he has to say."

[Ascension]

At times the cultural gulf between Sesus Denerid Braga and Skandi the Wolf seems insurmountable. Most times, from Braga's perspective, if he's being honest. He feels obligated to try, though, for Versino's sake.

"Of course a normal girl may dream of being a hero," he agrees, "play-acting like she's Peleps Aramida against the demon Kalabaretes or Tepet Elana against the Varajtul cannibal horde, but she doesn't have to take the risk of being a hero, not until she's older. If an older boy pushes her down and yells that he won, she doesn't die. The demon isn't loosed. The cannibals don't chew the marrow from her bones. Versino has already been run through by a deathknight during this venture of ours, she could have already died. And she's still so young..."

[industrious]

Ireva

The little Solar attends to the scene; her focus heightening her senses beyond her norm. She spots the trap quickly - a figure lurking in the shadows, short stubbled hair caked with dirt and filth and grime, wearing an unwashed robe, and whose sihouetted fingers are overlong as they peek from the sleeves of his robe.

Skandi, Braga, and Versino: In the Light of the Full Moon

The Silver Chair waxes full this night, and the Argent Hunter's soft silver light beams down upon a clearing in the woods. The air is still, poignant with mystery and the smell of dewdrops yet unformed, blades of grass swaying slightly against an unseen wind. The trio are alone, as far as they can tell, amidst the stillness.

Here is the place, and soon it will be the Time. What do they do?

[Ifni]

And Do Not Fall Into Despair

A figure of shadows amid the dappled shadows of the trees; in other circumstances, less desperate to find a route other than the obvious one, Ireva surely wouldn't have noticed. Cynis Sar? It would make sense for him to be with Nalis, and those too-long silhouettes of fingers could be the claws she remembers him flexing as he looked at Skandi, that night in Nexus. But... Sar was well-groomed, hair carefully tonsured, the image of a proper Immaculate monk. Is this grief, for his brother's loss, or the result of his flight from Fire Orchid's troops, or something else? And why is he hiding? If to prepare an ambush, why hasn't he struck yet? Her gaze does not linger on the stealthy figure as these thoughts pass through her mind; better not to reveal her knowledge if she can avoid it, to keep her options open.

Precious instants hang in the balance, and she is already beginning to move, to spring into action; any moment might cost a life, here. Any moment might cost a war. Golden light spills from the Solar's face as if from an unshielded lamp; ephemeral white-gold blossoms tumble silently from her forest-green hair, and faint golden bark-patterns form and fade on her skin in readiness.

But there is time still to open her eyes to light and darkness, and look with the Sun's illuminating gaze and the insight lent by long years of watching, for the chance that there is understanding to be found.

Reflexively activating Unblinking Sentinel Gaze and... hmm. If Mastery of Small Manners is still up when she spots the hiding person, can she get a read on their emotions/motivations in the scene (if their Manip+Socialize/2 is 3 or less)? Whether it's up or not depends on whether she activated it as part of a combo on her last action, or immediately before that. If it's not up, I guess I'll spend the 1m again to put it back up.

And after this I'll declare my actual action, I promise :smallwink: Either way, any Charms being used will be in Combo with all Ireva's known Reflexives.

For Essence tracking, I need to know stunt rewards for the highest of:
-Tick 6 action (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=18402817&postcount=357)
-Perception+Awareness roll (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=18434132&postcount=360)
(only the highest of these matters as they happened before the Tick 11 DV refresh)

Also, can I claim Motivation upgrades on any of my stunts in this fight so far, given that Ireva has put herself in the firing line to try to non-violently prevent an Immaculate from killing a Solar who's sworn (reluctantly) not to harm agents of the Realm? 6m vs 4m rewards would make a difference due to my persistent tendency to spend all my motes on understanding-people Charms and oathbinding in combat situations :smallwink:

[industrious]

Ireva

The monk is no creature of darkness, and his motivation seems extremely straightforward.

Vengeance.


Give yourself a 3 die stunt due to Motivation.

[Inspector Valin]

Versi steps forward into the clearing, clad in full armor, glancing around with Skycutter on her back. This... was it. And it still left her uncomfortable. She'd wanted to find out about the world on her own terms, try to understand things through history, form a broader perspective. She might've sought the Silver Pact out in time... but they were approaching her. That did not set the young Lunar's mind at ease. She looked up towards the Silver Chair, pondering. Gods can hear prayers, right? And I'm Chosen. Can Luna hear my thoughts? She probably wouldn't be fond of someone not joining her other Chosen... hopefully she'd understand Versino's reluctance and not mistake it for anything more.

[Ifni]

And Do Not Fall Into Despair

No villains here, then - no smiling masks hiding vicious hatred for the living world, manipulating innocents like puppets for their amusement and the ruin of the East. Or if they are, they're staying away from the immediate scene of the crime.

Vengeance. She doesn't know which of them here is the monk's target - Fire Orchid seems the most likely, if the hidden figure was involved in the attack on her husband and lost brethren there. If that's true, then everyone here except me and Zhou has lost someone they loved to the Cleansing's crusade against the Solar Exalted. Oh, the target could still be her or Zhou, in revenge for something that happened in Nexus, or even some older slight. Or even Nalis; the stranger is hiding after all. But if it is her first guess...

Isa's quiet words come to mind: Just... simple, human hatred.

But what right has she to condemn vengeance, when she bore Remembrance for ten years? When the words Never forget, never forgive are graven on her soul, beside the names of the lost? When her own heart holds that fire and yearning, for justice for the dead, redemption of their anguish in their enemies' utter defeat...

Vengeance. A soft whisper, by a figure in dark green jade as her spear bit deep, to strike down the man who'd slain her husband.

Vengeance. A word cried to air and water, wood and stone and fire, in Old Realm of an ancient age, by voice upon voice in a crescendo of fury.

It ate away at both peoples. It ate away at the land, too... there are shadowlands in Linowan to rival those left by the Great Contagion, the Uprising, even the Primordial War and the birth of the Neverborn...

She can see Nalis' heart and he is steadfast; he will not be turned aside here by any natural means, and it is not only her life and Fire Orchid's that are at stake. She can see the restrained fury in the shadowed stranger, like an arrow set to a bow.

The diminutive Solar is moving, then, lightly bounding across the broad golden blade lying on the leaves. Perhaps this is still dodging the question, perhaps it's a meaningless gesture. But the thought of using Resolve against her sister's brethren, the thought that the first blood it drew might be the Dragons', makes her feel almost nauseous. That is a line she will not cross: let it be demarcated by the golden edge of the great daiklave, bright against the dark earth.

Until you have no other choice.

In Ireva's unencumbered hand the Lookshyan jian feels briefly strange, but she shifts her fingers slightly and adjusts her stance to accommodate its weight and balance, and feels it settle comfortably into her grasp. Swords are familiar, are easy. She's carried so many blades over the years, from potmetal knives and poorly-reforged poniards and the fine child-sized dagger Firada had kept with her always, to the finer steel of the late years of the Resistance, and then the many practice-blades of the Nexus training yards. Swords of different weights and shapes and balance and quality, swords that would shatter if struck the wrong way and swords as flexible as a willow-wand. This one is very fine, fit for a high officer, light and swift in her hand. She raises the hilt briefly to her lips, to whisper in words so soft as to be inaudible to anyone else, "For Lookshy".

A long graceful half-step half-leap takes her to Zhou's side, and the sword is a dance of silver and light in her hand, shielding her husband and her husband's cousin, tracing out an intricate pattern in the air. She promised Nalis silence, but a glance up at Zhou, a stabbing, flickering thrust of her curved blade, a meaningful look toward the shadows - the message is clear, look there.

Does the Air Dragon know, about the mud-caked monk? Does he turn to look, following the silver sign of her sword? She does not begrudge him the warning, if warning it is; all she wants here is that none of them shall die. Or does he see in her flashing blade only an ally unveiled? Or a feint to distract him, look behind you!

If he thinks the last he is not entirely wrong, for Ireva flows forward behind the thrust of the jian, with a last glance at Zhou of regret and apology and determination. I know you tried, love, we both tried, but I don't see what else there is to try...

Still it is very hard. This is Nalis, a man she likes and admires; just as bad, this is an Immaculate Master, and - twenty years of being Tepet Ireva tell her - to be respected and revered. She had never planned to fight the Wyld Hunt. Defy them, yes - but only by running and hiding.

You asked Zhou and Firada and Isa to stop you if necessary. You wouldn't want to do harm based on a lie.

At the last moment she whips the blade sideways, sharp edge turning to reveal broad flat surface of steel, a slashing cut caught deliberately short to slam bruisingly into the Air Aspect's arm and shoulder. There is no killing intent behind the stroke; the very worst it could do would be to break or dislocate the arm. I am trying to stop you from killing people who should be your allies against the Mask, Enlightened Master, nothing more.

And then she steps back, blade again weaving a slow tracery of silver between Fire Orchid and her would-be assailants, face still in the concentration of battle.

OK. Just flurrying an attack (pulled for bashing damage) on Nalis, and a defend other on Fire Orchid, and trying to point out the hiding monk to Zhou (she's not trying to be subtle about this; Nalis can undoubtedly figure it out as well if he didn't already know the other guy was there).

Speed is 5 due to the Defend Other.

Accuracy is +2 with the Exceptional bonus, so 15 dice base, -2 for the multi-action penalty, I'll add 5 dice from the First Melee Excellency (combo'ed with all Reflexives) and we'll just see how this goes. (I suspect it will miss, and ping off Hardness even if hits if he still has his armor, but this will at least start to give Zhou a handle on his DV.)

[roll0] -1 external penalty to do bashing damage.

Base damage is 6L (3L for the sword, +3 strength).

[Ascension]

In the Light of the Full Moon

Braga is a little surprised to be standing with the Lunars this night. He had expected Skandi to put up more resistance. There is something sacred about the clearing, the sanction of a goddess who is not his own, who does not know him, whose Chosen have spent centuries warring against his own kind. He probably shouldn't be here at all...

Except there is no holy ceremony coming, is there? Versino is here to refuse it, or at least to question it. She's the one defying the purpose of this place. And he ought not to feel uneasy about that... this is what he wanted, isn't it? But his mind is not calm. Perhaps... perhaps this is a mistake after all. He looks to Versi, trying to gauge her confidence, and he waits.

[Aevylmar]

Skandi, Braga, and Versino

Skandi strides cheerfully into the clearing, leading the others with him.

"Well," he says, "this looks like about the right place."

He smiles as he always does, hiding his worries behind a casual grin.

[Maugan Ra]

Do not fall into despair

Slowly, Zhou let's his outstretched hand fall back to his side, the offer of peace and cooperation spurned by a man that calls him brother. The temptation to give in to bitterness and melancholy is immense, the urge to rage against Nalis and his willful blindness only too strong, but... he knows why the monk is acting this way. The two of them were raised with different principles, sculpted over the course of their lives by different beliefs, and just because those circumstances now pit them against one another is no reason to give in to such weakness.

Duty, then, shall be his watchword, the guiding principle behind his actions. Duty to his city, and to his people. Whether the Immaculate teachings are true or not is at this point immaterial - there is an army here, one willing to fight on Lookshy's side against the forces of gathering darkness, and he cannot countenance any course of action that will threaten that alliance.

With careful formality, he raises Aurora and holds it vertically before him, an old-fashioned salute to an honourable enemy. Ireva steps up next to him, and the sun flashes from their exposed blades. That she has set aside the great Orichalcum foe-cutter for this fight is perhaps tactically unwise, but from a personal standpoint he cannot help but agree with the decision. To turn a gift like that to such a purpose as this would taint it forever more, and she cares too much for her sister and her legacy to accept such an option.

He takes a few steps to the side even as his wife moves in to the attack, watching the way that the steel flashes through the complex attack patterns to test Nalis' defenses. The signal hidden in her movements is obvious as well, even if the significance of a second watcher here is difficult to judge. Still, he won't attack a man that has yet to declare against him, and Nalis is by far the more immediate threat.

As Ireva falls back, Zhou moves in, Daiklaive turning in his hands. The strike is an odd one, fueled by both superhuman skill and power yet held back by reluctance and doubt. The burning fire remains contained within the blade, and there is no furious onslaught of blows - just a simple, flickering lash of an attack, a test of his foe's guard that turns aside at the last moment to avoid any chance of drawing blood.

He does not want to kill Nalis, but if one of them must pass... he still remains unsure.

OK, just making a single attack here, adding six dice with the First excellency and suffering a -1 external penalty to only inflict Bashing damage.

Attack: [roll0]
Stunt: [roll1]

Dodge DV: 13 (14 -1 for attack)

Personal: 9/17 (5 committed to Defense-from-Anathaema)
Peripheral: 27/40 (13 attuning to artifacts)

Willpower: 9/10

[industrious]

Immaculate

While she is unused to the weight of the weapon, Ireva remains a master swordsman, her movements quick and sure. But Nalis is the wind itself, and one cannot cut a breeze or slice a storm; the monk is never where she aims her strikes.

So too fares the fellow Dragon-Blood; there is no guard as the monk folds and bends and retreats, and letting the blade cut where it will - which is to say, away from Nalis.

The Importance of the Tattoos

They hear it call out before they can see it. A great, warbling call, waxing and waning; No singular sort of beast would make this cry, for within its haunting notes can be heard the screech of eagles, the roar of tigers, and many more animals, all undercut by the guttural and low-pitched scream of man.

It comes before them now, an abomination nine feet tall in a half-crouch, as backwards-bending knees cushion its steps. A long thick tail extends outwards for balance; a deceptively slender torso and elongated neck contrast with thick brawny arms ending in long, razor-sharp claws. Scales appear and vanish along portions of its body; fur and feathers likewise. It steps into a moonbeam, and the trio can see it appears to be made entirely of shimmering silver.

The most horrifying portion of the creature that stands before them, though, is the head of the beast - there are no eyes, no ears, no nose, no vertical space that one could call a face. Instead, a ring of jaws encircle an open maw, each jutting outwards like the pedals of a flower edged with fangs. Each jaw appears composed from a differing animal, and the creature howls once more as each encircling mouth snaps shut, one after another.

[industrious]

Immaculates

The figure who had been formerly hidden rushes towards the group now, and as he emerges from the treeline, Zhou and Ireva recognize the newly-beraggled features of Cynis Sar, eyes ablaze with fury, clothes tattered and filthy, hair untonsored and unkempt. Dragon's Claws emerge from the end of long billowing sleeves as he slashes at Ireva, the air rippling outwards from their keen edge.


Rippling Water Strike! It affects Zhou, Fire Orchid, and Ireva!

[roll0]
11 sux
Base Damage is 7L/2

[Maugan Ra]

His expression grim, Zhou steps sideways to intercept Sar's attack. Aurora spins and flashes as he moves through a complex defensive routine, fending off the glittering assault of the Dragon's Claws. Where the blade passes, the speed of its movement and the burning heat contained within the scarlet Jade combine to produce ripples of his own in the air, movements that disrupt and dispel the Immaculate's own attack.

It is not a flawless defense, for the arts of the Immaculate Order are justly famed and their techniques not so easily defeated, but it suffices. The rippling waves of air crash around him, enough of their force dispelled by the counter that the plates of his armour can turn the rest aside with comparative ease.

So, Zhou will definitely defend against the attacks made against himself and Ireva, thanks to Lover's Oath. I don't know if he can also defend Fire Orchid - Ireva is defending her, and he is defending Ireva, so I'm not sure how the chain of moves works out precisely.

Still, if I can defend her by proxy I will. Beyond that, I don't know if the attacks impose an Onslaught penalty for fending off multiple effective attacks, but even if they do and I take the worst penalty defending Fire Orchid, my Parry DV is 11 and my Hardness is 10, so I can tank any of the force that gets past easily enough.

Now to hope that Sar isn't making a Combo with some of the nastier effects available to Immaculate stylists. Most need to roll damage if I recall, but there are at least a couple that just need to hit...

[Aevylmar]

I Told You! I Told You!

Skandi's grin falters slightly at the shriek, but quickly returns.

"And here, Braga, we have our first and best example of Chimerae and what they look like."

His eyes narrow as he draws sword and shield.

"At some point I and Moonwrath are going to need to give a good correction to whomever led us here," he mutters, then raises his voice again. "So! According to what I've been taught, this thing is going to try to eat us. Let's not let it, shall we?"

[Ascension]

Sesus Denerid Braga has the essence of a blizzard pent up in his veins and can stare down the demons of Hell and leash them to his will, but the Chimera's uncanny cry chills him to the bone. His skin crawls at the sight of the beast, and that sensation is all the more disconcerting with such a creature standing in view, its quicksilver flesh writhing far more than metaphorically. He guesses the name of the monstrosity in the moment before Skandi speaks it aloud. This is the moon-mad Chimera, that which is anathema even to the Anathema. This is what the Silver Pact fears. He understands that fear now.

He makes as if to run, but, though the impossible animal's shape seems ungainly, its limbs are strong, and the inconstancy of its form suggests that it might be still swifter in a moment's time. Too frightened to flee, he stands his ground. Electricity arcs between his outstretched fingers.

"Stay back, Versi," he cautions, quietly, lest the earless beast somehow hear, "you're not yet healed from... last time."

I'm assuming we'll need it, so Join Battle: [roll0]

[Ifni]

Vengeance

Ireva's blade is quick and sure, but Zhou is swifter far, moving like the fires of Hesiesh himself. She looks at Sar across the white-burning edge of Aurora for a long moment as the nimbus of water and air around the glittering dragon-claws sublimates into steam, blade raised in reflexive but unnecessary defense.

"I promised your brother my silence," she whispers, her lips barely moving. "He's doing his duty, as he sees it. But you are not here for duty, are you, Cynis Sar? You're here for vengeance."

The air ripples like a wave, and Ireva spins away, shielding Fire Orchid with her own body, the jian in her hand flung out to slice a scribbled koan in the air. The quick short slashes may help scatter and disperse the shock-wave, even as Zhou's blade draws a shimmering heat-haze across the scene with flowing motion almost too fast to see.

Her sidestep takes her back toward Sar, circling to cover Zhou's off-hand, even though she suspects he doesn't need her help very much. Without him, this fight would already be over - and it would have been so easy for him to stand aside. Even now, it would be so easy. Dragons, I do not deserve you, love...

"Do you remember what Risa said, as she stabbed your brother?" she whispers to the Water Aspect, her gaze flicking to Nalis. She remembers the anguished frustration she'd felt that night - don't any of you know who your enemies are?

But maybe they truly don't. They haven't walked in Thorns, after all.

She remembers Braga's words, gentle, not trying to hurt -

Everything that happened in Thorns, to Thorns, that was all happening to the Realm's own people... and the Legions weren't mobilized.

...the Faith's condemnation of nations of Anathema is far more developed in theory than in practice...

They are Firada's brothers-in-faith, these men, the pinnacle of the enlightenment that she hopes to achieve. How can they not know? Or are they like the Midnight Queen, knowing the full truth and accepting it as the way of the world?

It's easier to turn the Wyld Hunt on newly Exalted children and call that a victory over evil than it is to oppose entire armies. And it would be easier to condemn Lookshy than it would be to stand beside it against the Mask...

"Thorns waited for help against the Anathema for more than twenty years. Lookshy faces the same fate -" Her jian rises, meeting feinting dragon-claws in a quick glittering defensive pattern, as Sar prepares for his next real attack. His eyes are burning, furious, and of course he's not listening to you...

She's choking back the whispers along with the burning lump in her throat, but the last words are blurted out almost without her volition, "Did you join the Order only to do the easy thing?"

I think that with a one-die stunt and Ireva's assistance on the Defend Other on FO, Zhou just parries everything - but if he DOES get hit and it bounces off Hardness at any point, let me know, it matters slightly for Overdrive.

[Inspector Valin]

"Well. You're... big."

Versi had started to relax a little at the quiet, but the once human creature charging towards them was enough to make the young Lunar draw her weapon. She glances upwards briefly, considering taking to the skies, but shakes her head at Braga's words, stepping forward with a set expression. "No. I'm not going to run out of the way whilst you're here. That's not changing now." She smiled across to her father though truth be told she couldn't quite feel that confidence. Even after all this time, the aches had not gone. She wasn't sure how much more punishment she could take, all in all. Let's hope Mouthface goes down quickly

[roll0] Join Battle

[Maugan Ra]

"Vengeance?" Zhou repeats with an incredulous air, his expression wavering between stalwart determination and disappointed fury. "You are here for vengeance, Sar? Against what? We have done nothing to you."

He repositions, adjusting his stance to make best use of Ireva's assistance, watching the two Immaculate's warily as he tries to decide on his next move. "What crime could possibly be so great, what trespass so unforgivable that you would choose revenge even while the dead and damned circle from all sides?"

Not declaring an action just yet, more setting up an introduction for Nalis or Sar to engage in mid-combat banter/dramatic declarations etc.

[industrious]

"Vengeance?" Zhou repeats with an incredulous air, his expression wavering between stalwart determination and disappointed fury. "You are here for vengeance, Sar? Against what? We have done nothing to you."

He repositions, adjusting his stance to make best use of Ireva's assistance, watching the two Immaculate's warily as he tries to decide on his next move. "What crime could possibly be so great, what trespass so unforgivable that you would choose revenge even while the dead and damned circle from all sides?"

Not declaring an action just yet, more setting up an introduction for Nalis or Sar to engage in mid-combat banter/dramatic declarations etc.

Chimera

The creature lets loose another ear-piercing screech, and as the ears of the three Exalts ring, it leaps into action, silver light flowing around sharp claws. Liquid silver girds its form, forming jagged spines and growths along its limbs and torso, as it attempts to rend the flesh from Skandi's bones.


Activating Relentless Lunar Fury, Secure Cat Stepping, Shell-Crushing Atemi, Burrowing Devil Strike, and Wasp Sting Blur. Certain Gift Charms already active.

Activating Octopus and Spider Barrage.

Attack 1: [roll0]
Attack 2: [roll1]
Attack 3: [roll2]
Attack 4: [roll3]
Attack 5: [roll4]




0: Chimera
1:
2:
3:
4: Chimera (again)
5:
6: Versi, Skandi, Braga


Sar and Nalis

The Water Aspect's nostrils flare, his eyes narrow at the Solar, hatred in every line and crease. But he is of the Faith and the Anathema hold no sway over him.

"She's talking, Nalis," he growls.

"Of course she is," the other monk says, almost bemusedly. "They're all liars, Deceivers. Chuzei, I do apologize again. Please do not resist."

The Air Aspect claps his hands together, and a wave of sound echoes from the contact. Grass flattens, and the forest grow still.


Thunderclap Kata!

Roll Stamina+Resistance, difficulty 4.

[Maugan Ra]

"Do not resist?"

The words are almost a snarl, and Aurora slices through the air like a thunderbolt. There is a harsh tearing noise, and Sar is forced to fall back, one of his long billowing sleeves torn free to float lazily upon the air.

Not an attack, just a cosmetic stunt to set up the description I'm going for with this next bit.

"You come to slay my kin, cut down those who stood beside you in battle, sabotage the defense of my city to the advantage of a Deathlord, and you expect me not to resist?"

The Daiklaive comes around again, striking at the floating sleeve with the razor edge turned to the side. Loose silk tangles around the length of the blade, drawn tight as Zhou spins the blade around in his hands until the deep crimson jade is hidden almost entirely from view. A blade-wrapping, such as one might use in the practice yard to mitigate the risk of accidentally drawing blood from an unprepared opponent, improvised but passable enough.

"To hell with your apologies, Nalis. I've never stood aside from what I know to be right in the past, I will not do so here."

In response, the Air Aspect brings his hands together, the deceptively simple motion producing a shockwave that is almost visible in the air. Grass is knocked flat and the sounds of nature cease, as though the entire world were rendered helpless before the Immaculate's power. But Nalis is not the only child of the Dragons here, and it will take more than such parlor tricks to subdue a son of Hesiash.

Gritting his teeth, Zhou powers forwards, ignoring the shockwave that crashes over him though he makes his very bones ache with its passing. He covers the distance separating him from the monk in an eye-blink, loose strands of cloth trailing in the wake of his blade like the tails of a kite. The additional weight and bulk threatens to throw off his rhythm, but none have ever denied that Kharal Zhou is a skilled swordsman, and he compensates for the difference with barely even an instant's delay.

If the power released by Nalis is the roar of thunder, then the onslaught unleashed by Zhou is the lightning, a furious storm of blows that batter at his opponent's defenses and threaten to smash their way through. He is a soldier fighting in defense of his home, a cousin confronting the man who would harm his kin, a husband standing in defense of his wife. Before the fury of such men have gods and nations fallen, and before it even the masters of the Immaculate Faith will pause.

They will not win. They must not win.

OK, flurry of three attacks directed at Nalis, using the stunt with the fabric to explain the -1 external penalty in exchange for this being bashing damage.

On each attack I will spend 3m of the 1st excellency, and to back things up I will also channel Compassion. Let's see what that gets me.

I leave it to your discretion whether this counts as fighting in defense of Lookshy's interests, for the purposes of Motivational upgrades.

Attack One: [roll0]

Attack Two: [roll1]

Attack Three: [roll2]

Stunt: [roll3]

Base damage is 10B/2

Personal: 3/17 (5 committed)
Peripheral: 27/40 (13 committed)
Willpower: 9/10

Dodge DV: 11 (14 -3 for attacks)

[Ifni]

Ireva's lips crook in a sad half-smile at they're all liars, Deceivers. She doesn't speak, but her green eyes are eloquent: and yet you wouldn't be trying to kill me at all, save for a truth I offered you freely. She wonders if Nalis can see the irony.

But then he strikes his hands together, and she must slide sideways and turn swiftly to try to shelter the unconscious Zenith from the worst of the blast - and of course, that means taking the full brunt on herself. The wind and the sound strike her like a hammerblow, but she grits her teeth and holds her position in the face of the onslaught, digging her feet into the soft leaf-strewn earth, hunkering down among the spreading roots of the forest that surrounds them.

She has seen great trees uprooted by windstorms before, or split in twain by lightning. But as her ears ring dizzyingly with the thunderclap and she sways against the force of it, the memory that comes to mind is a tree that grew above the beach near her sea-song manse, climbing outward and upward from a meagre dirt-filled crevice in the rocky cliff. A dwarfed and twisted thing, only its delicate white flowers in the Eastern spring serving to identify its species, almost unrecognizable when set against its tall proud cousins. The seed that birthed it had come to rest in a place without light or soil enough to nourish proper growth, and from its earliest beginnings it had been blasted by the wind and brine and driving rain of storms off the Inner Sea. Yet years later, still it lived, and grew, and reached toward the light.

Starved and stunted and scarred, still she survived, through the darkness of Thorns, through the lonely years of exile. This is just another squall, another storm, and if it is the one that breaks her and dashes her down to the hungry sea, still she will hold her ground until she can hold no longer.

Ireva's anima does not yet shine, although her skin is rough as bark and her hair is bright with blossoms. The great white-gold ash does not burn for all to see, rising like a beacon and a promise from the tangled bed of thorns, reaching out to touch the edges of eternity and shelter all beneath its branches from the searing lightning-storm above. But she can sense its presence, invisible in the air, the hidden shape of her soul.

Stormcrow. Eris. The tree draws the lightning.

But amidst the storm... the tree endures.

Resistance+Stamina, and I'm claiming my Adrenaline-Fueled specialty :smallwink: If this counts as a deleterious environmental effect, Ireva's Infinite Resplendence Amulet adds one success. Also spending 1WP to try to avoid it.

Resistance+Stamina: [roll0]
Specialty: [roll1]
Stunt: [roll2]
EDIT: Well, I'm glad I spent the WP. I am going to assume that's at least a one-die stunt? If so, Ireva passes.

If she fails to resist, Ireva will fire Durability of Oak Meditation and Iron Skin Concentration, which I think should knock off the damage (since it only ignores armor soak, DoOM should take it to minimum damage, which should be zero with ISC - unless it's Overwhelming, but I don't see that specified anywhere).

[Aevylmar]

And the Wolf roars back. As the chimera charges him he charges straight back, and moonsilver claws ring against moonsilver shield. The shield isn't simply interposed but swung, the lightning-fast intercepting blows driving the chimera back and spoiling its attacks.

"You should both get out of the way," says Skandi, speaking through his fangs. "Hand-to-hand is my domain."

Skandi is HEROICALLY CHARGING INTO BATTLE to justify channeling Valor to his defense.

DVs are all Parry, are 14/13/12/11/10, plus stunt.


All buffs are factored in.
Boosts: Deadly Beastman Form (+1 all physical attributes, heal a Bashing and a Lethal each round, +4L/4B soak, +4 yards/tick of move)
Penalties: None.

Attack Pools
Moonwrath - Speed 5, Accuracy 15 / 17, Damage 14L / 2, Rate 2
Axe - Speed 5, Accuracy 12 / 14, Damage 11L, Rate 2
Shieldbash - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 , Damage 8B, Rate 1
Dagger - Speed 4, Accuracy 13 / 15, Damage 7L, Rate 3
Iron Boot - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 / 13, Damage 12B, Rate 2
Note: (Fierce blows are currently off.)

Defense Pools
Moonwrath - 6 / 7
Axe - 5 / 6
Shield - 8 / 9
Dodge - 4

Essence: 3
Personal: 23/23
Peripherial: 33/52
Willpower: 9/10
Committed: 19

Getting Hit
Soak: 17L / 19B
Natural: 7L/10B
Hardness: 8L / 8B
Health Levels: 0/1/1/1/1/1/1/1/1/2/2/4

[industrious]

"Do not resist?"

The words are almost a snarl, and Aurora slices through the air like a thunderbolt. There is a harsh tearing noise, and Sar is forced to fall back, one of his long billowing sleeves torn free to float lazily upon the air.

Not an attack, just a cosmetic stunt to set up the description I'm going for with this next bit.

"You come to slay my kin, cut down those who stood beside you in battle, sabotage the defense of my city to the advantage of a Deathlord, and you expect me not to resist?"

The Daiklaive comes around again, striking at the floating sleeve with the razor edge turned to the side. Loose silk tangles around the length of the blade, drawn tight as Zhou spins the blade around in his hands until the deep crimson jade is hidden almost entirely from view. A blade-wrapping, such as one might use in the practice yard to mitigate the risk of accidentally drawing blood from an unprepared opponent, improvised but passable enough.

"To hell with your apologies, Nalis. I've never stood aside from what I know to be right in the past, I will not do so here."

In response, the Air Aspect brings his hands together, the deceptively simple motion producing a shockwave that is almost visible in the air. Grass is knocked flat and the sounds of nature cease, as though the entire world were rendered helpless before the Immaculate's power. But Nalis is not the only child of the Dragons here, and it will take more than such parlor tricks to subdue a son of Hesiash.

Gritting his teeth, Zhou powers forwards, ignoring the shockwave that crashes over him though he makes his very bones ache with its passing. He covers the distance separating him from the monk in an eye-blink, loose strands of cloth trailing in the wake of his blade like the tails of a kite. The additional weight and bulk threatens to throw off his rhythm, but none have ever denied that Kharal Zhou is a skilled swordsman, and he compensates for the difference with barely even an instant's delay.

If the power released by Nalis is the roar of thunder, then the onslaught unleashed by Zhou is the lightning, a furious storm of blows that batter at his opponent's defenses and threaten to smash their way through. He is a soldier fighting in defense of his home, a cousin confronting the man who would harm his kin, a husband standing in defense of his wife. Before the fury of such men have gods and nations fallen, and before it even the masters of the Immaculate Faith will pause.

They will not win. They must not win.

OK, flurry of three attacks directed at Nalis, using the stunt with the fabric to explain the -1 external penalty in exchange for this being bashing damage.

On each attack I will spend 3m of the 1st excellency, and to back things up I will also channel Compassion. Let's see what that gets me.

I leave it to your discretion whether this counts as fighting in defense of Lookshy's interests, for the purposes of Motivational upgrades.

Attack One: [roll0]

Attack Two: [roll1]

Attack Three: [roll2]

Stunt: [roll3]

Base damage is 10B/2

Personal: 3/17 (5 committed)
Peripheral: 27/40 (13 committed)
Willpower: 9/10

Dodge DV: 11 (14 -3 for attacks)


Nalis

The Dragon-Blood 's eyes close briefly in sorrow. Zhou attacks with fury and false passion, ensnared by the Anathemae at his side. His attacks slice through the air, and Nalis is the wind, feels the breeze before the blade. The monk emerges from the barrage yet untouched, twisting and turning before him.


Channeling Compassion to boost DV - Zhou's attacks miss.


Skandi and the Chimera

The two champions in silver clash, claw against shield, tail against blade. Skandi times his counteroffensive perfectly, and the creature is driven back several yards; it drops to all fours, its movements becoming more lithe as its eyes stare with naked hunger at the wolfman. A misshappen, formless aura begins to form around the creature.


Skandi does not get hit!

The Chimera is activating Instinctive Dexterity Unity.

[industrious]

Sar

The lips of the beraggled monk move, twitching with rage and pain and Essence. His pain resonates within and without, and the blades of grass turn to green pulp as they wither away. The duo can feel their strength fade, their bodies rebelling against their souls, tearing themselves apart. Sar is surrounded by the crashing of waves, an undertow that sweeps all corpses out to sea.


Tsunami Force Shout.

Unblockable Attack: [roll0]


Chimera Fight


6: Versi, Skandi, Braga
7:
8:
9:
10: Chimera
11:
12:

[Maugan Ra]

The world ripples, like a pond disturbed by a thrown stone, and even unschooled as he is in the techniques of the enlightened arts Zhou can feel what is coming.

He does not hesitate, already turning as the grass around him is reduced to pulp and the dirt begins to run like water. The power that Sar has unleashed feels like a tidal wave battering at his body and soul, but he is not without his defenses against such things. Trying to parry would be futile, he appreciates in an instant, but still the burning essence of fire roars through his blood. He grits his teeth and leaps, flying high into the sky and turning in an elegant roll that narrowly avoids the bulk of the attack passing by beneath him.

He touches down a moment later on the far side of the group, relatively safe. But already, his eyes are turning towards the prone form of his cousin, unconscious and helpless before the onslaught...

So, Zhou can avoid that one with relative ease. Three motes spent on Threshold Warding Stance eliminates the DV penalties for my last flurry of attacks, and then a one-dice stunt allows me to dodge the attack.

I'm rather more concerned about the other two targets...

[Ascension]

The Chimera

As Braga gazes on the hideous beast before him, it seems unthinkable that within that cage of protean flesh is trapped a spark of divine Luna's power, and that its terrible eyeless head once wore a human face. How did it come to this? What stripped that champion's human dignity and Exalted pride away, and how could this monstrosity be what was left behind? The chimera couldn't even be properly called animalistic; the animal kingdom holds no such horrors, no such hunger.

Braga's heart leaps into his throat as the thing sizes up Skandi. Though he has had his differences with the barbarian in the past, becoming a meal for that chimera is a fate he wouldn't wish even on a dire enemy, much less on Skandi the Wolf.

"Careful!" he calls out in warning, "No one is served if any of us throw ourselves into that thing's jaws. If we're overwhelmed, we run."

He glances at Versino, hardens his voice.

"We all run. We are not dying here. Though Dragons willing, Luna willing..."

His body sways, electricity crackling across his skin in rhythm with his movements, and then he leaps a step forward, flicking both wrists outward as he lands. A wave of violent wind rushes outward from his hands, bending grass and breaking twig as it rushes toward the chimera, and pent-up lightning leaps within it. As the miniature storm reaches the beast's feet, Braga releases his hold on it, and it explodes in a brilliant blizzard of blue-white essence. Skandi's charge drove the thing back, and if he and Versi can keep up the pressure, perhaps, perhaps...

"...that creature, it might die tonight."

Elemental Burst Technique! I claimed it as my gift Charm back in Christmas 2013, and I think this is the first time I've actually tried to use it. I think that if a target wants to dodge an area attack it has to move out of the area of effect as part of its dodge. I'm... absolutely certain that that won't be a problem at all for this thing, but at least it should help maintain a morale-boosting fiction that we're succeeding in driving this thing back.

Dropping 4m on the 1st Lore Excellency to improve my attack pool to 25 dice. Damage is at the 4L/2 baseline from Glorious Birthright Font. I'd probably boost damage if I had any faith at all that this attack would hit, but I don't, so here goes.

[roll0]

Potential stunt dice:
[roll1]

[Inspector Valin]

So... you're a 'Chimerae'?

Seeing the thing charging towards them was one thing, having it atop them was quite another. Versi looked down at the creature as it readied itself, seemingly undetered from its plan of eating Skandi. It... had been human once, though that was hard to see right now. She'd known prettier Blood Apes. She understood the intonation in Braga's voice as he spoke of it: thing, creature, it... but a part of her was starting to understand. The Exaltation changed people deeply. Shifting in shape too much just magnified that, stripped things away, pushed you outside of society. When you took a person's mind from them, removed their compassion, their feeling and their ability to belong... what was left?

Hunger. The kind of hunger that'll make you do anything. Like pray to a demon, for example.

Versi's heart tightened a little at that thought, mind going to the wings on her back. Whatever this thing was, it had been human. She... needed more time to think about this, and what it meant. But right now, her mind had to be on other things. Her companions were fighting something powerful, and wounded or not, both Skandi and Braga could dearly use her help. This simply wasn't the time for meditation. Reflexively channelling her essence through the familiar mundras, Versi's hands begun to glow a faint silver, her eyes narrowing in focus on the creature. In that instant, the pain and lethargy faded away and Versino of Malfeas stood tall. Her doubts and personal feelings would have to wait.

In time with Braga's strike, Versi let fly with a single shot shot of silver essence, the bolt streaking across the forest floor, aimed cleanly at the Lunar's 'torso'. But once where Versi would've planted her feet squarely in the ground, this time the young Lunar lets the recoil of the blast carry her upwards, spreading her crimson wings wide as she went. Turning in the air, she looked down at the Chimera, smiling grimly. A slight twist of her body, and Versi let fly with a second shot, a straight line of argent force aimed straight into the creature's unnatural silver-coated maw.

The young Lunar descended to the ground before her shot had even landed, wings ruffling slightly, gaze still fixed on her opponent. Let's see how used you are to blocking from above, Anathema.

Ok.... let's see if I remember all the charms I want to activate here

Relentless Lunar Fury, Wasp Sting Blur, Golden Tiger Stance and Hide Toughening Essence. 8m, 1wp, Versi ignores -7 penalties to DV, makes her attacks at speed 3, has a bonus success on each combative action, and gains 6 soak. Because she activated three additional charms at the same time, RLF became Obvious.

Then Twin Fang Technique, backed by 4 Excellency successes (cap raised thanks to RLF), a success from RLF and a Valor channel to defend Braga whilst pretty damn heavily injured.

21 motes, 1wp spent

[roll0] +5 sux Attack
[roll1] Stunt dice

[Ifni]

The Breaking Wave

With the storm comes the storm-surge, rising high above the rocky base of the cliffs, to scourge and drown a stunted tree. Ireva can taste salt and copper on her lips, like tears and blood, and feel the beginnings of a shivering deathly enervation. It sweeps her back twenty years in time, to a child starving on wintry midnight streets.

Zhou may leap clear, like smoke and sparks rising above the waters, lofted on the wind. But Ireva has no such freedom - sun-chosen, still her strength is the rooted power of the ash-tree, and night-blooming roses in the dark. Endurance, before escape.

At least for herself.

In the moment before the wave crashes down she bends and heaves Fire Orchid from her shoulders with all her strength, flinging the Zenith a couple of yards through the air. To a spot where the grass is not beginning to wither, outside the focus of Sar's furious gaze and the growing reverberation of his grief.

(Unconscious, she may land awkwardly. But she'll be limp at least, not tensed up, and Fire Orchid is Exalted. She won't ever die from a clumsy fall, or a shallow cut gone bad, or drinking bad water or eating rotted food. All the stupid, avoidable ways Tepet Ireva has watched friends die.)

Of course, nothing comes without a price. Every action has its reaction, every point its counterpoint. And Fire Orchid is heavier and taller than Ireva, raised in the wealth of Gens Kharal rather than the streets of Thorns, and with a lifetime of soldier's training behind her. The Eclipse stumbles backward, trips on something in the grass - a stone? - and catches herself with her free hand, eyes rising to meet Sar's just in time for the full force of his shout to strike her dead-on.

It hurts. Tearing pain, chilling weakness, and the seductive call of the undertow, promising cleansing and a final peace. Mourning and rage resounding through her bones, shivering along her nerves. It is the power of the stormy sea and a night of rain and despair.

And yet... none of that is new, either. As familiar as her own face in the mirror, and a list of forgotten names, and the scars on her arms, now revealed as her light-wrought jacket shrivels away beneath the onslaught.

What can you do to me, Enlightened Masters, that Thorns has not already done?

The recognition burns through her with a surge of golden Essence. Anger and agony batter at her like waves, but she is oak and she is iron, and adamant forged in the Mask's dark domain. She is sunlight in the unending darkness, rooted in the bones and blood of that battleground. Weakness, pain, the allure of the ending - these things she has endured and defied since long before she bore the Sun's glory. In the midst of devastation, flattened and withered grass and broken trees, she holds unflinching, and defies them still.

I have an actual action to post, too, but as I said in the OOC, waiting to make sure industrious has had a chance to read my PM, first.

This is just Ireva's defense against Tsunami Force Shout. The initial bit, with throwing Fire Orchid, is attempting to stunt-justify Ireva taking the hit for Fire Orchid as well as herself (so having to defend twice). I think unblockable attacks can be redirected to the defender with Defend Other, if the defender jumps in, they just go up against PDV 0.

Tsunami Force Shout is a 45-degree cone, so it's certainly possible to throw someone out of the area, and Ireva has been maintaining a Defend Other on Fire Orchid and explicitly carrying her around. Please?

So I may have two defense rolls to make here.

First:
Essence roll: [roll0]
Possible stunt: [roll1]

Second (only applies if I can defend for Fire Orchid):
Essence roll: [roll2]
Possible stunt: [roll3]

In both cases, if I pass the Essence roll I will use Durability of Oak Meditation + Iron Skin Concentration to make Ireva's lethal/bashing soak 20ish, and reduce the min damage by 1 (to 0, presumably) - my understanding is that armored soak does apply, and as I said in the OOC thread, I don't think threshold successes apply here. If I'm wrong about either of these, let me know, as it may mean I use Adamant Skin Technique instead.

If I fail the Essence roll, I will use Adamant Skin Technique in any case, as Durability of Oak Meditation does not help with Aggravated soak.

I will continue this post with her action, and write a description of her anima flare (as it depends on what Charms she's using, but all this will come out of Peripheral) once I know how this action resolved.

[The_Snark]

Secrets in the Dark (continued from here (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?349406-Return-of-the-Scarlet-Empress-III-The-Lookshy-War&p=18434189&viewfull=1#post18434189)) “Very well,” Chejop says softly.

“This secret is too great to be revealed without the knowledge that surrounds it. Tell me, Isa, about the Maidens Five who we honor - the task that they perform, and how they came to be.”

“... they came from before,” Isa says, reaching back to lessons she hasn't heard in over a decade. “Before Creation, before Yu-Shan, before there was a sky to hold the stars. When the first principles which would become Creation were born in the dreams of the old titans, the Maidens were there. When the sky split into day and night, the stars were there, waiting.”

“They embody the foundations, the order which allows the world to have shape and meaning. But the titans were blind to what they had created, caring only to carve their own whims into reality - like the creatures of Chaos before them, except that they were more able to realize their dreams. And so the Maidens worked against their creators. Their task...” She mulls this over a moment, shaking her head. “I think that depends on who you ask, but I would say that their most important task is to be that foundation. Or to care for it, perhaps - but I don’t think one can wholly separate the Maidens from the Loom.”

She looks back up to meet his gaze. It’s a very broad question, and she isn’t sure that her answer covers what he feels is significant.

“Yes,” he quietly acknowledges her recitation, neither approval nor disapproval in his words. “Before the sky or sun or moon, the stars waited for their arrival. When the foundations of Creation were laid, they fell according to the patterns of samsara, to the destiny to which all things are bound. And to enact this pattern, the Five Maidens revealed themselves as servants of that which binds all things, beyond the Exalted, beyond the gods, beyond they who would be the Primordials.”

“The revelation of the Maiden’s existence at that beginning brought about horror and revulsion at the knowledge that even the Titans were bound by forces greater than themselves. They could not bear such a thought, could not entertain the notion of such grand majesty beyond that of their Emperor, He Who Would Be Malfeas, whose name before Malfeas has been irrevocably lost.”

The ancient eyes of Chejop Kejak stare into Isa’s; green orbs blaze with intensity in recollection of times before his own.

“They would not accept the dominion of samsara. And in their mad power the Titans created a being of foul and dark powers, dedicated to the denouncement of destiny, a creature bound to their own whims in the hope that all that is, was, and would be would fall under their tyranny forever. A thing to shatter samsara, destiny, fate, causality itself...all would bend under this demon’s will.”

The old man’s hands tremble at his own words; he drains his teacup dry before setting it shakily down upon the table.

“Do you now begin to understand the nature behind the symbol you have encountered?”

Isa recalls… not the symbol, but the moment when Burning Waters rent the strands of Fate asunder and rewove them, all unawares. She hadn't noticed at the time, but she could recall his expression clearly: not focused on the warp and weft of causality stretched before him, but distant, as if envisioning something entirely different.

“I think I do,” she replies, schooling her own hands to stillness. “And… what happened to this being? How does it have servants - Exalted servants - still?”

“When the Primordial War began, the Abomination was highly honored by those who would be cast down. Given privileges beyond the purview of the Incarnae. One of the highest priorities in preparing for the War that would free Creation and Heaven was to counter the creature, to contain the being. All Five worked as One to build a prison to hold the being. They could not kill it - it is a wound in what Should Be, and to attack a wound only makes it stronger. They sealed it away, encased in chains woven of Fate, of Oughts and Therefores, of things beyond the creature’s understanding.”

“And... as snags and tangles form elsewhere, as errors and careless pruning snap threads intended to run longer and lengthen those to be ended, the bonds of the Imprisoned Abomination loosen, and fragments of his power are unleashed upon the unsuspecting world once more.”

“Fragments,” she repeats. “And… that’s what they are? The Khaibitu-em-Betu-Tuf?”

“Yes. Shadows of Abomination. Portions of the creature’s power entwined with a mortal soul.”

He gives a bitter smile. “To call them ‘Exalted’ is to stretch the definition.”

“It’s a stretched word, these days. First the deathknights, and now these Yozi-chosen, and… this.” She shakes her head, not in disagreement but in a kind of uneasy wonder.

Her next question is perhaps a little too telling, but she can’t quite restrain herself from asking. Isn't sure she wants to - there won't be another chance, and as long as she's confessing things she’s kept from her teacher… “Do they know? The people who bear its power, I mean. Do they know what they’re working for? What they’re working towards?”

He gives her a sad, tight smile that extends only to the edges of his mouth.

“What do you know about the Time of Cascading Years?”

“Not much. What you've told me, mostly.” She thinks back a moment. “Ei Zou's story.”

He frowns at her ignorance, though not at her.

“...Creation was shattered - not physically, but...no language has the precise tools to describe it. Every Exalt was alone, and in a strange realm which only barely resembled the true order of things. Time, causality...everything had been fractured.”

“When it was over, it was nearly impossible to reckon how long it had been - for some, the Time was but a second; others had lived for centuries alone.”

He nods towards the symbol.

“And the one responsible for the Time bore that symbol upon his brow.”

“Ah.” It's not exactly an answer, but she suspects that it's as much as he can offer. They cannot know the enemy's mind, only their actions; and thus far… Well. Dangerous to give someone the benefit of the doubt, with the stakes as high as that.

“The one I met,” she says slowly, “did not seem… I wouldn't have guessed him for an infernalist, or anything of the sort. He seemed to honestly care about Nexus, about the people who call it home. But I didn't speak with him much, and I am… not confident in my judgment, where he is concerned. If he, or others like him, don’t know what they’re really fighting for - that seems a weakness.”

She takes a deep breath. It’s shallow reasoning, she knows, but it’s not wholly without merit, and she isn’t pushing for anything. She is presenting facts, which he can use as he sees fit. Here is something that might be a chink in the enemy’s armor, which you may not have known about.

“What I don’t understand,” she presses on, “is the secrecy. Why aren’t they known and feared as enemies of Creation, as the Yozis are? Why aren't they listed among the ranks of the Anathema, to be harried by the Wyld Hunt? Is there something dangerous in the knowledge…?”

“And what was the result of his actions in Nexus?”

His voice remains gentle.

“They may seem kind, or misguided; they may wish to help. But their actions inevitably lead to ruin, the disruption of fate, the sacrifice of what we hold dear.”

He speaks as if from personal experience. She nods, slowly.

“As for the secrecy...the knowledge of their existence is kept under the Lady Jupiter’s domain, and by her own judgment; it is her will that this knowledge remain hidden. We cannot know the reasons behind the Maiden of Secrets’ reserve...but if this knowledge were to be revealed, the Khaibitu-em-Betu-Tuf would be perhaps able to forge potent alliances with those opposed to fate, to the Incarnae, to the Bureau of Destiny. And...they are exceedingly rare creations, Isa. Only four incidents involving them have been recorded.”

“If what happened in Nexus is any measure, they already have,” Isa sighs, but she lets it lie at that. A dictate from the Maidens is a dictate from the Maidens, not to be contested or ignored. And he’s not wrong about the outcome in Nexus; whatever Burning Waters intended, chaos was the result. Kind yet misguided... that feels all too plausible, when she thinks of him. The shock in his voice when he learned what she was, and the wariness in his eye later.

Something else niggles at her. Four incidents, he says, when her briefing outlined five. Perhaps he isn’t taking the latest encounter (hers?) into account. But that spurs other memories. The Time of Cascading Years, Ei Zou’s descent into madness and forbidden arts. The impersonal, censor-ridden account given in the files Oversight sent her. Debriefing of agent involved in Incident 4 revealed they felt an “instant connection”...

“The same thing happened to Ei Zou, didn’t it,” she says softly, meeting his eyes. “He met one, and there was a bond between them, just like that, a connection that couldn't be explained or reasoned away; and afterwards he slid into ruin and madness. That’s what you were worried about, back in Yu-Shan. You're afraid something like that will happen to me. And I can’t say you're wrong to worry, because I felt that same connection to the one I met…”

She pauses, swallowing to ease the tightness in her throat. “What happened to him, sifu? I don't want to dredge up old sorrows, but - I think I need to know. Ignorance can't protect me anymore.”

He is so very weary. Chejop rises from the table, plants his feet on the ground as he begins to move through a series of katas, his aged frame flowing through them as water. They are the same katas that Isa practices, Throne Shadow and the Violet Bier - the traditional Sidereal styles.

“In the Time of the Cascading Years,” he says in mid-kick. “lived a man named Ei Zou…”

“...Ei Zou built a perfect simulacrum in his mind’s eye. With grim exactitude, he looked for a difference between it and his own image: this, he was sure, would tell him its weakness…”

He blurs through the motions, every step a sacrament, a gift offered in emulation of Saturn; every motion perfect. Chejop is the greatest martial artist alive.

“...no longer did it merely react, but leered at him in infuriating triumph…”

His motions invert, and Chejop appears to move backwards, taking away each punch, each kick, each step. The building blocks of all forms remain fixed yet the spaces between them seem to stretch and distort; no sacrament but the highest blasphemy. The movements feel wrong, almost painful to look at, much less to spar against. The logic behind each move defies expectation, eldritch, incomprehensible.

“now you are gone forever, he said, and stepped into its place.”

He stops in the midst of some tenebrous and unnamable strike as he falls silent, his limbs quivering.

“...He called it the Obsidian Shards of Infinity Style. With it, Ei Zou defeated his Shadow. With it, he restored the natural order of things. As his pupil, he taught me the motions, the strikes, the flows of chi that I dare not access.”

Chejop stares at Isa as if from a disproportionate distance, his eyes unfocused, spectral.

“In his mastery of this style, he could not be defeated by any of his peers. And with each use of it, the bonds encircling the Abomination uncinched, and grew more loose. In the end, Jupiter and Saturn, with some minor assistance from myself, had to intervene to stop my old sifu.”

“They cannot be trusted, Isa. Even their aid contains lurking poison, loathsome and subtle.”

Isa nods, accepting this. She'd hoped for more detail - who was the one Ei Zou met, and what did they want? What happened? - but if he doesn’t know, then he doesn’t know. Details on the shadows, the Nocturnals, are hard to come by.

“And... the connection I felt?” she asks. “It wasn’t just me, the files Oversight gave me recorded something similar. They compared it to the bond linking Lunar to Solar. Do you know anything more about that? How it came about, or - how to break it…?”

There’s a plaintive note in her voice. It’s not that she doubts what he's saying, but something about all this still doesn't feel right.

He shakes his head.

“We don’t know. What we do know comes from our few encounters with them, what the Maiden of Secrets has deemed appropriate, and their actions.”

She nods again. There are few answers to be had here, it seems. But Emerald Stormwrack found some, even if they don't match up very well with this. Maybe she can do the same.

“Thank you,” she says finally. “For telling me.” And then, “Is… there anything you want to ask me?”

He’s been open with her; the least she can do is offer the same.

He is silent for a moment.

“When I am gone,” his lips lingering over the phrase, “who would you trust to do what must be done?”

“What must be done,” Isa repeats, slowly. An awfully vague turn of phrase. (An awful phrase, in its way, suggesting cruelties and horror hiding beneath a mask of banal neutrality.) What must be done about… the Solars? The Nocturnals? Everything? Tempting to profess ignorance, or ask clarification, but... she offered honesty, and so feels obliged to give a real answer.

“I’m not sure,” she admits candidly, because that is the truth, however uninformative they may be. “I haven’t given it much thought. It depends on what needs doing, doesn’t it?”

“There are plenty in the Bureau who will try to carry on your work. Keep the Solars out of power. Try to preserve the Realm, or something like it at any rate. But.” She hesitates, bites her lip. “The people who'd follow your lead wholeheartedly… well, that’s the problem; they're followers, almost by definition. Not leaders. Anyone with the drive and vision to lead will have a vision of their own. Similar, maybe, but not the same. And I don't know any of our brothers and sisters well enough to trust them completely.”

She studies his face anxiously, searching for hints of… approval? Offense? Some sort of reaction, anyway. “Is that what you meant? It’s a broad question, and I don’t know if I’m answering what you meant to ask.”

“Yes.”

He nods softly at her response, brow furrowed in thought, and says little more.

All right, then. Isa rises. This being a dream, it's only a gesture - neither one of them needs to stand in order to leave - but their time together is sparse enough that she doesn’t want to part casually. No simply fading away. She rounds the table to embrace him, gently. The desperation she’d felt in Yu-Shan, that she was losing him and needed to hold on as fiercely as she possibly could... gone.

“Thank you for coming to see me, sifu. It helped.” She pulls back a little so she can see him properly, hands resting lightly on his shoulders. It’s a stretch; he's taller than she is. “I will remember you, when you're gone. And I'll miss you. Don't forget that.”

She stands on tiptoe to brush her lips against his cheek, then steps back. From the look in her eye, there's more. “Sifu… what you said earlier, about the Visions…”

The Visions come from a deeper place than even our own gifts… They do not end, Isa - they will continue. Our reward for following the Vision is a Creation that will endure forever.

Understanding comes in the space of an instant, the haze of disquiet and doubt that's dogged her all throughout this conversation resolving in a moment of sudden, perfect clarity.

“There's always an ending.”

[Ifni]

Resolve

Now the shining tree rises in all its glory, sprouting from a seed of sun-fire, planted in the blood-watered soil of Ireva's soul these ten years past. Branches reach skyward, dancing in the storm, in an exultant yearning paean to the light. Lambent golden flowers, matching the blossoms in the Eclipse's forest-green hair, cascade in shimmering strands from above, casting a brilliant light across the battlefield. And about the Solar's feet, growing up through the withered black grass and broken salt-wracked earth left by Sar's Charm - the bed of tangled thorns, and luminous white roses, stained with red-gold light like the remembrance of blood.

That's not a truth one would see from a distance, watching a white-gold lightning-tree ignite the night sky over Nexus. It is not obvious, from the glory and the light of the upper branches, where the great ash-tree's roots lie. But here, in this quiet glade that once saw the clash of armies, it is clear that the thorns and the tree are inextricable.

Ireva meets the Immaculates' eyes, and in her own gaze there is... not hope. Not entreaty. They are past that. Only the calm that comes with the final end of deception, with heart's truth offered freely to all with eyes to see.

This is where I came from, Cathak Nalis, Cynis Sar. This is who I am. This is my answer to They're all liars, Deceivers.

From that inward stillness she looks past the Dynasts, and meets Zhou's eyes. Their rings glow blue-white in the light of her anima. A tilt of her head, a small motion of her hand toward the half-uprooted tree on Nalis' far side - Zhou will understand, as her sister would have understood. No more denial. Against whatever comes, we fight as one.

But there are bitter truths too, amid the sweetness.

The Eclipse glances toward Fire Orchid, readying herself to resume her guard, but - You cannot defend her this way. Not when they can turn wind and water against you both. Already there are darkening bruises on the Zenith's face; it was nearly much worse. And Sar may find a way to deny her such a last-ditch escape-route next time.

You swore to defend Lookshy to the best of your ability.

Her free hand descends to rest on - the rock that had tripped her? No, no rock, but the hilt of Resolve. She can feel the thrumming power in the hearthstones and the blade, the familiar wash of distant music through her mind. She could take it up. She could fight as she fought against the Maiden, and hope to shed the Dragons' blood.

But Nalis and Sar's deaths won't serve Lookshy either. The power they have manifested here is power that could and should go to defeat the Mask's horrors. She cannot try to kill them, even if she wanted to. But she cannot let them win.

For a moment the little Solar only crouches, unmoving. It is too hard. Too much. She cannot disable two Immaculate Masters, especially not while defending her husband's cousin. The weight of it crushes her as the rage of Air and Water Essence could not, the elation of surging sun-bright power giving way to despair: Zhou will die here, defending you, and then you will die as well, and all you've done and all you've sacrificed will be for nothing...

Words stream through her mind, like flickers of dappled sunlight on the leaves of the great ash-tree.

Remembrance. The Siege of Utam. May you bestow upon us the virtues of our ancestors past. Music in the mind. There was a great manse, a fortress forged of gleaming alloy. A bed of thorns, watered with blood. A sacred oath. Marry the girl. Where our forefathers stood and fought and died. The example for the world to look upon in envy. Ignis Divine... For Lookshy's sake...

And she knows what she will do. It may be futile and it may be foolish. It may hasten her death and amuse her enemies. But it is hers to attempt, as Kharal and Tepet, as Solar and child of Thorns, for a past mired in darkness and the dream of a promised future full of light.

"On this sacred ground, Lookshy was born," she whispers in Old Realm - to the air, to the salted and withered earth, to the white-gold light and the listening trees. "Its fate now rests in the balance."

Ireva draws the jian shallowly across her forearm, where uncounted straight fine scars mark years of ritual pleas, prayers, sacrifice. Fire Orchid burned incense, but it's gone out now, quenched by wind and wave. Sometimes all you have to give is yourself, and sometimes that's not enough...

But she promised to try.

The blood flows easily, dark and gleaming in the white-gold light. She tosses the jian slowly over toward Fire Orchid, the blade landing near-soundlessly on the green grass beside its master. Droplets of blood follow its arc, glittering like water and fire and the heart of the Sun.

"Honor," she whispers. I am not one of you, but I would join your ranks. Ignis Divine, bear witness: my word sworn in Your name, and my blood in earnest of that pledge. "Loyalty." Another line of blood falls to the broken ground, as she looks at Zhou, smiling despite herself. See your most steadfast son, who would fight to his last breath to defend your legacy. "Prowess." Fire Orchid, lying unconscious on the ground, the jian of a Lookshyan kazei close to hand. See your daughter, who once fought beside you on this very field, and has now raised an army to defend your people.

"Compassion -" Her voice breaks, as she glances at Nalis. But he won't listen, not as he did in Nexus, that's become clear. Instead she makes it a plea, a calling, cast out to the lines of Essence in the earth and the sunlight above and the memory of the dead. She grasps the sword-hilt more tightly and blood trickles from the wound with the tensing of her muscles: is there strength here that remembers? Is there courage to stand against the fall of night, to fight for unity and not to destroy it?

The Five Pillars, Zhou had told her. Honor, Loyalty, Prowess, Compassion...

For a moment Ireva closes her eyes. But she swore. The best of her ability. Whether or not her plea is answered, by the Sun or the dead or the memory of the power that once abided here... still she has to do her part, until the ending.

She lifts Resolve in both hands, and its name is on her lips.

Well, here we go. Ireva is fully totemic due to those two perfect defenses, so that should be a nice lighthouse for everyone else to follow :smallwink:

I know I could have picked Fire Orchid up again, but throwing her out of the way of Tsunami Force Shout feels like the kind of thing that shouldn't work twice (just from the perspective of Awesome Exalted Battles Should Not Be Slapstick Or Repetitive). Let's see if this works.

Flurrying an attempt to coordinate with Zhou, a ritual blood-letting action for a single health level (combined with dropping the jian, but I don't think dropping something takes an action), a defend other on Fire Orchid, and picking up Resolve. I would like to request a stunt upgrade for Motivation, having belatedly remembered to make the explicit connection between saving Lookshy and the future the Gold Faction promised (where implicitly the Dragon-Blooded and Celestial Exalted work together).

Three of these actions are straightforward. The other one is more or less a Hail-Mary, a sacrifice and a plea to pretty much whatever might be listening, since (a) there was a half-completed prayer to Ignis Divine in the works, and (b) we were told that this is sacred ground to Lookshy and it's just possible the battle here has left some residual traces.

(I can't do an actual Summon Ghost ritual as it takes 15 minutes. Spilling blood is enough on its own to call ghosts in a shadowland, but this presumably is not a shadowland. Mechanically, it is possible that if there used to be a manse here but isn't now, we're standing in an uncapped or partially capped demesne, and what Ireva is doing should be implemented as a social roll to persuade attunement (which we have established can be stunted quickly), which might then allow some other options. (A partially capped manse with damaged powers, and geomancy influenced by the battle here, could do quite a variety of things.) So, basically, if anything happens at all, and if so what, is entirely up to the ST.)

Spending a WP on the coordination roll; my pool is (Charisma - multiple-action-penalty (4) + stunt), so 1 die before the WP and any stunt.

[roll0] + 1 success
Possible stunt: [roll1]

industrious, let me know if I need to roll something for the appeal.

[industrious]

Chimera

The creature flows away from the Dragon's lightning with contemptuous ease, but its motion brings it squarely into Versino's line of fire. The silver-liquid skin splatters across the field, glistening in the moonlight, gathering in unnaturally large droplets; Blades of grass sink and bend to the ground under their weight.

The Chimera opens its mouth to cry out in pain...and Versino opens fire once more; another opening appears in the creature's throat, near the back, and the splatter of mercurial drops falls like rain.


That's a 3 die stunt right there. Success, margin of 9/10, minus soak, plus base damage leaves you with...7 dice worth of damage. [roll0]


Battleground of Utam

As if from far off, she can hear the blare of trumpets, sounding a cry to war. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NkMhRvEmG6s)

They ring among the trees, echo from hollowed trunks, creak and crack from between the branches. Voices begin to call out marching orders from centuries past, and the ground rings with the rasp of invisible steel. As Ireva's opens her eyes, the little Solar's gaze bores into Nalis's; he breaks contact first, his eyes flickering to her right. To her left.

The man takes a step back, chakram still whirling but his posture now more guarded.

"You can't be allowed to live," he says, but he isn't attacking. A raised eyebrow, a flick of the wrist, and Sar reluctantly joins him as they begin to edge away, their focus remaining solely at Ireva.

Behind the Solar drift the gold-lit outlines of soldiers long since fallen, their bodies as insubstantial as dust through a sunbeam and the edge of their weapons as sharp. They fill the clearing behind her, fade into the trees, silently watching.

[Ifni]

The Fallen

The sound of trumpets lifts her heart, like a ray of light in the darkness, like the flowering of hope. That the ancestors of Lookshy accept her desperate offering, and rise to witness as if she were truly one of their own... there is a warmth in that like a hearthfire, and gratitude she can barely express in words, even in her own thoughts. Actions will have to do.

Ireva shakes her head slightly at Nalis' words. Silence, until you're satisfied - but he had addressed her directly. Her voice is soft, her words simple. "You needn't fear failure, Immaculate Master. My life is already forfeit; I've pledged my surrender, sworn and sealed, to one designated by a master of your Order." Her lips curve in a small smile, bitter as rue. Blood still drips slowly from her arm, a promise of sacrifice, dark against the white-gold blaze of her anima. "Once this war is done and Lookshy is safe. But not before."

There are tears glittering in the Solar's eyes as she raises Resolve in a sweeping salute to the shining forms, a gesture of profound respect. It becomes a salute to her husband, as she turns to Zhou, and bows slightly - although she keeps Fire Orchid and the monks in her peripheral vision. She smiles fiercely as she looks up to meet his eyes, and says in Old Realm, loudly enough for all assembled to hear: "Kharal Zhou, Chuzei of Lookshy and the Seventh Legion -" Despair is only a shadow's width away, but now exhilaration carries her forward, exhilaration and the sense that she dances on a knife-edge, but has not yet fallen, "Here stand the fallen heroes of Utam!" Her smile softens, but her eyes remain intent. "But it is not my place to lead them."

And now let's turn this over to the character who is (a) their descendant culturally and possibly by blood, (b) a Dragon-Blooded officer of the Seventh Legion who is utterly dedicated to Lookshy, and (c) in possession of War dots :smallwink: Because this should really not be just Ireva's scene.

And from the perspective of the Immaculates, a Solar just called up the ghosts of Shogunate warriors to defend their legacy, and then relinquished any claim to leadership in favor of a Dragon-Blood...

[Maugan Ra]

For a moment, Zhou just stares at the gathering throng, the sight of ancient heroes rising at the call of their descendants. It is a vision straight out of the old stories, a glimpse of the days of old when legends walked the earth and the gods themselves trembled to behold their might. It is a scene he had never thought to see with his own eyes, and for a moment the magnitude of it all overwhelms him.

Then he smiles, and raises Aurora in salute, scarlet Jade moving in time with the burning Orichalcum blade in his wife's hands, a gesture of unified respect. His equipment and uniform is different to that worn by the dead, but there are common elements there all the same, hints of a shared origin and similar legacy. These are his kin, as much as anyone still living, and it feels right to stand alongside them once more.

"Do you know where you are, Nalis? Or you, Sar?" He says, turning to face them with a host of golden warriors at his back. "This is Utam, the birthplace of Lookshy. It was here that my ancestors first shed blood to forge our nation, the first time the Seventh Legion stood alone and forged our own destiny in the ashes of the Crusade."

The flames of his anima begin to burn around him, embers dancing in the sunlight, and Zhou raises his sword to a ready position. "This is a sacred place. A place of honour and legacy... a place that you would see defiled with the murder of those sworn to the Seventh and the people we protect. I will not permit it."

His eyes are hard and unyielding, his sword held motionless in steady hands, the flames of the Phoenix blazing around him in glorious display. "I will give you but one chance, Dynasts. Withdraw now... or be destroyed."

Behind him, ten thousand swords catch the light of the sun, a silent counterpoint to the words of their heir, an army ready to destroy those who would threaten what they built with their sacrifice.

The world seems to hold it's breath...

So, mechanically Zhou is going to aim for three ticks here, to make the most of the coordinated attack on tick 21 if he needs to.

Now to see if the Immaculate Monks do the smart thing and walk away. If not, I guess I need to ask what kind of mechanical impact there is to being supported by a legion of the honoured dead...

(This is really freaking awesome, by the way).

[industrious]

Nalis

The monks say nothing, their eyes stern and wary as they slowly make their retreat.

Chimera

The creature sends forth another unnatural howl, and sharp claws seek once more to piece the older Lunar's hide.


Activating Twin Fang Technique as well to attack Skandi.

[roll0] +1 sux

[Maugan Ra]

Zhou watches the monks retreat with a grim expression and a wary stance, and only when they have pulled back out of range and vanished among the trees does he begin to lower his sword once more. Then, smiling, he turns towards Ireva.

"I... feel like I should say something profound." He says softly, the flames of his anima seeming gentle and muted amongst the golden light that bathes the clearing. "But all I can think of are words from lips that are not my own. Old boasts and quotes from heroes of old, mostly, none of them really appropriate."

He turns, and looks out over the ranks of gathered soldiers, their swords gleaming in the sunlight. "You told me once that you were afraid. Afraid that my family would reject you, that my city would spurn your aid, that all our hopes were little more than dreams that would inevitably fade in the cold light of day." He continues after a moment. "I think today should stand as answer to those fears. The honoured dead would not answer the call of one who was not worthy, no matter what power or authority they might wield. Trust in their judgement, if not your own."

This is of course assuming that Nalis and Sar don't just immediately turn around and try to shank us the moment we look away. And that the ghostly soldiers hang around for at least a little bit, though I'm not sure if we're talking 'short term manifestation' here or 'lead the army of the dead to the pelenor fields' in scope. Probably the former, but I'm leaving what room I can for further details from our illustrious ST.

And man, I wrote and then deleted about twenty different possible lines for Zhou here, and I'm still not sure about these ones. Still, I need to post something, and this seems at least vaguely appropriate.

[Ifni]

Ireva returns Zhou's smile, her eyes still glittering with unshed tears and exhilaration in equal measure. And with triumph - they will live, Zhou and Fire Orchid, Nalis and Sar. At least for the moment, Oblivion will claim no victory here.

The small Solar moves swiftly to stand between Fire Orchid and the edge of the clearing, as her gaze passes once more across the ghostly soldiers. Her orichalcum blade is held in a guard's stance, raised in automatic precaution against the Immaculates' return - but her attention is focused on the gold-etched visages of the fallen, wide green eyes drinking in their watching faces. Fixing their evanescent images forever in her memory, beside the names of Thorns' dead; and searching as well for hints of familiarity, for features and insignia that resemble those she saw in modern Lookshy, for links spun through time to Zhou and Fire Orchid and Shimoko.

The glade, the light, the silent ranks... it feels like a single pure note of music, a kiss of blessing, a moment outside time.

Worthy. Although it seems... presumptuous, to think that the ancient dead rose in answer to the messenger rather than the message, in endorsement of Kharal Ireva rather than to rally to Lookshy's aid. She has never asked, never imagined, to be followed for her own sake, rather than in a common cause. It is enough - more than enough - that the message was not ignored because she was the one who bore it.

When she bows to the shimmering silhouettes, it is a bow of eulogy - in honor of the dead, and promise of remembrance.

"Thank you," the Eclipse says quietly, to the listening silence. "Today you may have turned the wheel of history in its course. I will burn incense in honor of your memory, and if I am fortunate enough to have children of my own, I will teach them the legend of Utam."

She looks once more across the massed ranks, trying to pick out a leader, but addresses them all. "If you can speak with us, we would welcome your wisdom. If you are held to silence, still we will heed any guidance you can offer." She glances at Zhou as she goes on, "We march now for Lookshy, to bring aid to the city against the Deathlord called the Mask of Winters. Your comrade -" she nods to Fire Orchid, "- and I are Chosen of the Sun, and your city now names us Anathema, but we will defend Lookshy to the best of our ability nonetheless. And hope that offering is not rejected out of hand."

She takes a long breath, and then continues, her voice only roughening a little with emotion, "In accepting my sacrifice of blood, you have given that hope strength. For that, if nothing else, I would thank you, and pray that the mingling of my blood with yours bring honor to us both."

She pauses for a moment, as if to halt there. But...

Presumptuous, to assume. But would it be presumptuous to ask?

She swallows, and stands straight as a sword-blade, and looks once more at Zhou to steel her nerve. And then she speaks.

"I am Tepet Ireva by birth, and would be Kharal Tepet Ireva by marriage. Twenty-six years ago the Mask destroyed the city that was my home, and left it a wasteland of ghosts and shadows, terror and pain. Since I was four years old this war has been my war."

"Beneath Thorns' dark sky I have many times made offering to the fallen, old and new." The scars on her arm testify to that, pale lines against the dark skin, old cuts beside the new one. "I have been guided by the righteous dead, the ancestors of Thorns who aid their living children still; I have wielded in their name the blade Remembrance that was their gift, and Resolve her sister."

She bows her head. "Today you rose in answer to my plea, for Lookshy's sake, and for that I will be forever grateful. You owe me nothing. But I will ask your blessing, soldiers of the Seventh Legion."

EDIT: Forgot to write this, but it's important: firing Mastery of Small Manners to avoid social screw-ups, because talking to Shogunate-era ghosts seems like a place where culture clash would be easy. (Also, might give me a sense of their emotions, if these are actually ghosts.)

I have no idea how responsive the ghosts are (or if they are actually ghosts), but Ireva has a tendency to be respectful toward ancestor-ghosts.

So... what she's trying to do here is (a) thank them and ask them to speak if they have the capability, (b) inform them of the situation and see how they react (she's not going to ask them to do the Pelennor Fields thing yet, in part because she has no idea if they can and in part because "Will you follow me?" is clearly for Zhou to say rather than her), and (c) ask, on a personal level, for their blessing (for her, for the marriage, for their hopes). These are in some relevant sense Zhou's ancestors, and while of course getting their approval is not the same as getting the approval of present-day Lookshy, it feels important in its own right to Ireva.

(A note: the bit about mingling her blood with theirs is meant to be a double reference, on one hand to her blood-offering falling on the ground where they died, and on the other to her marriage to Zhou, in the sense of bloodlines.)

[Aevylmar]

"HA! Well struck, Versino!"

Skandi matches the claws with his raised shield. Ayesha's moonsilver is wherever it needs to be, as thin as it has to be to cover the full area and as thick as it has to be to hold against the beast's silver claws, and the Wolf is ready to strike.

"Retreat, Braga?" A fanged, growling grin, revealing the full moon on his forehead.

"You may do as you wish, but I'll not run while I live!"

Hoping for a one-die stunt. Opened it enough to see 24 dice but didn't read it; I'll buy 5 more dice with 1st Dex in hopes of being able to block the attack.

DV 9+stunt+5d10. = 13+stunt
[roll0] Stat Block to Copy-Post

All buffs are factored in.
Boosts: Deadly Beastman Form (+1 all physical attributes, heal a Bashing and a Lethal each round, +4L/4B soak, +4 yards/tick of move)
Penalties: None.

Attack Pools
Moonwrath - Speed 5, Accuracy 15 / 17, Damage 14L / 2, Rate 2
Axe - Speed 5, Accuracy 12 / 14, Damage 11L, Rate 2
Shieldbash - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 , Damage 8B, Rate 1
Dagger - Speed 4, Accuracy 13 / 15, Damage 7L, Rate 3
Iron Boot - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 / 13, Damage 12B, Rate 2
Note: (Fierce blows are currently off.)

Defense Pools
Moonwrath - 6 / 7
Axe - 5 / 6
Shield - 8 / 9
Dodge - 4

Essence: 3
Personal: 23/23
Peripherial: 28/52
Willpower: 9/10
Committed: 19

Getting Hit
Soak: 17L / 19B
Natural: 7L/10B
Hardness: 8L / 8B
Health Levels: 0/1/1/1/1/1/1/1/1/2/2/4

[Inspector Valin]

Before either side could land a blow however, Versi is darting forward, the beat of scarlet wings keeping the young Lunar above the ground and moving faster than her legs could carry her. That blast would've been enough to leave most mortals dead. She wouldn't allow herself the luxury of a moment's pause, or of holding back whilst there was a moment's room for doubt here. As Skandi and the Chimera close, claw and moonsilver screeching against each other, the young Lunar twists about, somersaulting in the air to put herself on the Chimera's side. She had the monster flanked, and more importantly, had it right in front of a slender looking deepwood tree.

The young Lunar's toothy smile gleams in the swirling silver light, her red feathers seeming to shine all the more as the shifting argent mark materializes on her brow. Versi could feel the essence shifting as she focused it through her anima, into Skycutter. It takes less than a second to bring the might cannon to full charge, and then Versi lets fly, one silver blast, then another. This time, however, the shots seem almost to have been fired simultaneously. The two lines of essence twirl through the air, keeping perfect pace with each other as they circle. The Chimera raises its silvered claw high, trying to diffuse the blast, but too late. Both shots connected at once, blowing the monster off of its many limbs and straight into the deepwood tree. There was a great snapping sound, before the dark brown trunk fell to the ground with an almighty thunk, and the beast came crashing down back towards the earth.

Second Twin Fang, buying three successes, plus one from RLF, DV lowered by one on the second attack as normal. Second Valor channel, same motivation as before. Anima now at 9 mote level
[roll0] Dex+Archery
[roll1] Stunt Die

Personal: 0/23
Peripheral: 41/52

[Aevylmar]

The beast is smashed like a quicksilver bug under the strokes of Versino's cannon and the fall of the great tree - but that isn't enough; her strongest blasts may stun and shock it, but the alien flesh mends all too quickly. Even at his strongest, he couldn't kill it by himself; she needs his help. No.

The monster is interesting; a perfect predator, more terrifying than anything he's seen in Rakshastan. He wonders how many Lunars it's eaten. He wonders how it left that message for him to find, or if someone else left it. Did it have the wits?

These thoughts are slowing him down. Skandi is curious. Skandi is boasting. Skandi, for all his bravado, is little more than human. She needs the Wolf's help.

Time for Skandi to vanish back into the depths of his mind. He's slowing them down, and it is the Wolf's business today - the monster Luna sent, in battle against the monster that lost its way.

He roars, once, and then closes in total silence and blinding speed, a pack of silver wolves baying at his heels, calling for blood. Skandi tried to play a dance of power with sword and axe, but the wolf strikes to murder and maim. The shield is to stop them striking you. The sword is a claw like a butcher's knife, to part meat from bone. Nothing more.

And to the Wolf, this terrifying monster is nothing more than soft flesh under a hard shell, with oh-so-many vulnerable joints where the blade can come crashing down.


Recovering 4 motes from the previous stunt.

This thing is a regenerating, DV 13ish monster. Let's go all-out, shall we? Skandi is Aiming for one tick on Tick 10 - a brief hesitation - then activating Relentless Lunar Fury and flurrying three attacks. RLF has, attached, Secure Cat Stepping, Rock-To-Pebbles Attitude, and Burrowing Devil Strike. Skandi has one success added to each action from RLF, and also while he's at it, he's burning 0/5/5 motes on the attacks.

His base pool is 17, +1 from aiming, -3/4/5 flurry penalties.

Attack 1

Base: [roll0] + 1s = 11s
Stunt: [roll1]
Onslaught: -0


Attack 2

Base: [roll2] + 1s = 14s
Stunt: [roll3]
Onslaught: -1


Attack 3

Base: [roll4] + 1s = 7S
Stunt: [roll5]
Onslaught: -2


Damage is 17LP. If any attack hits, I'd prefer to roll damage personally, so can 3rd it.

Stat Block to Copy-Post

All buffs are factored in.
Boosts: Deadly Beastman Form (+1 all physical attributes, heal a Bashing and a Lethal each round, +4L/4B soak, +4 yards/tick of move), Relentless Lunar Fury (5 actions remaining, cap is raised ignore -1 action penalties, 1 free success, attacks are Piercing and have +3 damage and don't impose action penalties)
Penalties: None.

Attack Pools
Moonwrath - Speed 5, Accuracy 15 / 17, Damage 14L / 2, Rate 2
Axe - Speed 5, Accuracy 12 / 14, Damage 11L, Rate 2
Shieldbash - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 , Damage 8B, Rate 1
Dagger - Speed 4, Accuracy 13 / 15, Damage 7L, Rate 3
Iron Boot - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 / 13, Damage 12B, Rate 2
Note: (Fierce blows are currently off.)

Defense Pools
Moonwrath - 6 / 7
Axe - 5 / 6
Shield - 8 / 9
Dodge - 4

Essence: 3
Personal: 23/23
Peripherial: 19/52
Willpower: 8/10
Committed: 19

Getting Hit
Soak: 17L / 19B
Natural: 7L/10B
Hardness: 8L / 8B
Health Levels: 0/1/1/1/1/1/1/1/1/2/2/4

Edit'd for attack motes.

[industrious]

Chimera

The Wolf falls upon the perversion of Luna's vision, and moonsilver blade meets argent skin; the creature's hide ripples with each blow, the cutting edge flowing through the predator's form as if through water.


Defensive Stunt: Chimera's DV is 12, and it's Lethal Soak is 14 - 10 with Piercing. It cannot currently use Charms due to Dexterity Unity.

[industrious]

Utam

Ireva's words carry in the wind through the translucent forms of warriors long dead; carry through and like the wind, vanish and scatter admist the branches of the forest beyond the clearing. Yet the warriors remain still and unmoved.

A gasp rings out through the clearing, as Kharal Fire Orchid breathes at last, sputtering as she tries to fill her lungs.

Chimera

The Chimera is rent by Wolf's blade; the Lunar's blows carry with them chunks of silver flesh, and scatters that silver across the grass and trees. The liquid moves under its own volition, though, and slips and slides silently to form in pools and puddles, and draws itself ever-toward the Chimera, and slips into padded feet, drawn by some strange magnetic force.

Even yet, there is much silver on the grass.


On its turn, the Chimera will spent 3 motes to heal all of Versi's bashing damage, and automatically regenerates an additional bashing and lethal. It's already gone though, and Skandi defended successfully, so I'm going to need to check the order.

On an entirely unrelated note, I'll need Perception+Awareness checks from the PCs.

[Ifni]

Utam

Ireva turns quickly at the sound of Fire Orchid's coughing - and as quickly returns her attention to the forest, her blade to its guard position. "You're safe, Kazei, at least for the moment. Zhou, can you help her? You know more of medicine than I do - I'll stand guard."

Her gaze flickers back to the motionless ranks of the fallen - but no, if there's more to be said and done there, it can wait. It's one thing to indulge her hopes when it doesn't detract from any larger goal; quite another when it does.

[Maugan Ra]

Zhou's head likewise turns at the sounds of consciousness from the Kaizai, and he nods at Ireva's suggestion. His cousin is still wheezing when he kneels down next to her, placing Aurora carefully to one side where it can be grasped again at short notice if needs be.

"Easy, cousin." He says in the firm tones of a field corpsman, laying one hand on her arm both for reassurance and to make sure she does not hurt herself with any desperate thrashing. "The danger has passed. Stay still, and recover your breath for a moment."

[Ascension]

Braga would chide Skandi for his cavalier bravado, but... but it seems as if it's working. The thing staggers, and, though all its monstrous body strives to knit itself back together, it isn't keeping pace with Versi and Skandi's efforts. Braga has nothing like the Wolf-Lunar's bestial instinct (the instinct that led the Chimera to its fate, a fleeting thought threatens), but even he can sense the creature's vulnerability, a streak of mortality that persists even though its outward aspect has left all humanity behind.

The scholar sways on his feet, feeling out the ambient essence, searching for a favorable flow. Here a cool night breeze, there a whiff of ozone still lingering from his last lightning blast... he stretches his body along the arc of the natural current and opens himself to it, allowing his own chakras to serve as an extension of the dragon lines. He feels Mela's breath flow through him, stirring the latent power in his blood. The wind rises round him, and the grass at his feet begins to gather a rime of frost. An eager spark jumps prematurely from his fingers, but he raises his other hand to catch it, bend it back along its path. As it arcs between his palms he feeds it power, watches it grow into a brilliant bolt, searing afterimages into the eyes of those who witness it. The very corners of his lips twitch into a serene smile. The captive thunderbolt dances, dances until he can contain it no longer.

Then, with a simple gesture, the bolt is loosed, streaming out from the tip of a single finger, striking out to bite the quicksilver beast. It is only a single stroke, but it carries with it the pent-up strength of a tempest. It might be enough to lay even such a monster low.

Since its Instinctive Dexterity Unity is in play now, this is probably a gesture in futility, but I'm going all in. 4m on the First Lore Excellency again to boost my attack pool to 25, 3m on EBA to boost its base damage to 10L/2. I'll definitely want to know what rating stunt this gets, even if it's only for the mote regain.

Incidentally, his anima's now at the 11m level.

Attack roll:
[roll0]

Possible stunt:
[roll1]

Meanwhile, Perception+Awareness:
[roll2]
And, if his Opal of the Hunted's bonus against ambushes applies:
[roll3]

[Ifni]

Exiles
(The events below take place the day after this scene (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=18294386&postcount=322), after Braga's meeting with Fire Orchid (ending here (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=18364748&postcount=355)), and prior to the scenes with the Immaculates and the Chimera.)

It is just after noon when Ireva comes in search of Braga, when he's stepped aside from his labors with the thaumaturges to get some food and try to soothe his fraught nerves.

"Hello, Braga," the little Solar greets the Air Aspect. She is dressed simply, for travel, but her coat hangs open to reveal the orichalcum breastplate beneath, now worn openly. "Will you share lunch with me? Shard showed me how to make savory buns with the meat and flour from our rations, they're pretty tasty." She holds up a greasy paper-wrapped bundle in illustration.

Ireva can see the bags under Braga's eyes as he looks up in response to her greeting. Students of the Heptagram are primarily accustomed to dealing with their own kind or with Dynasts and patricians wholly unlearned in the occult... they're usually kept well away from the spectacular ignorance of the incompletely enlightened. For all his theoretical tolerance of such explorers into mystery, Braga has found actually dealing with them on a day to day basis to be much more trying than he expected. He still isn't sure how he feels about the Chuzei's wife, but spending a little time with someone who definitely (probably) won't go conjuring demons up out of Malfeas the moment he looks away from her does sound refreshing.

Besides, if two Solars wanted him dead they'd be able to accomplish it much more easily than by poison.

"Fine, that sounds fine," he agrees, clearing away a little more space on his camp table to make room for Ireva. "Have a seat."

Ireva sits down in the proffered spot, and opens the bag, setting out the buns on the folded paper and taking one for herself. She studies the Air Aspect for a long moment as she bites into the bun, noting the dark circles under his pale eyes. "Thaumaturges keeping you busy?" she asks in easy High Realm. Braga's Riverspeak is fluent, but accented; it seems like a simple enough courtesy, to use his native tongue. Her tone is sympathetic, but carefully light - stressed people can be touchy, and she doesn't want to imply pity or lack of confidence in his skills.

Though it had been broken by the time Ireva came of age, Thorns was once one of the Realm's most devoted satrapies, and her High Realm is clear and pure, giving Braga a sharp jolt of nostalgia. He hasn't, of course, forgotten his reasons for leaving the Scarlet Empire, nor does he regret that decision, but one does not easily forget the land of one's birth... and life was simpler then, before his flight.

"Yes," he admits, with the candor of a man too tired to polish his words, "They apprenticed under a half dozen or more different traditions, and while you can trace all thaumaturgy back to the same basic principles of Creation, the details of execution can vary vastly between different schools even before you account for misinformation, misunderstanding, and the like. Simply understanding what they're trying to do can take effort."

That much is all true, even if it's not the whole truth. She doesn't need to know about the demon, he thinks.

"And what of you?" he asks, more out of politeness than curiosity. "The Commander is keeping your husband close, isn't she?"

Ireva nods, but pushes the folded bag toward the Air Aspect before answering. "Have some food, Braga - the buns really are good, Shard has a genius for turning the most unappetizing raw materials into delicacies. If you're anything like me it's easy to get so caught up in work that you forget to eat."

"And yes. Zhou has an officer's training, of course, but as recently as a few weeks ago he was telling me he had no ambitions for higher command - he's changed his mind on that front, knowing what we now know of the Mask's plans. We both have a lot to learn; for me it's been arms practice, mostly." She offers the Air Aspect a small wry smile, briefly unguarded. "You might be one of very few people in this camp who'd understand why I didn't work very hard at developing my skills in combat, after I Exalted -" She shrugs, and the crook to her smile flattens out. "But that seems like a selfish position now. Next time we fight the Maiden I'd like it to be a little more even. Or uneven in our favor."

"And that makes sense, about the different traditions. Like different currencies, or subtle differences in dialects - those are always plagues to a trader, and sometimes it's worse when it's close, so you think you both understand each other right up until they deliver ten times the amount you were expecting, or a crate of hams when you wanted fruit preserves..." The Eclipse stops herself, and chuckles quietly. "Sorry. I could tell a few stories, but it's beside the point. Anyway, it sounds like Fire Orchid - and the rest of us - are lucky you're here. My confused contractors weren't dealing in magic, generally."

"You'll let me know if there's anything I might do to help, won't you? I am blissfully ignorant of occult matters, except some practical knowledge of ghosts and shadowlands, but I have some practice with communication and getting groups to work together. Hopefully you won't need any help, but... well, if I could be useful, let me know."

Under anything approaching normal circumstances, Ireva could serve as a useful intermediary with the Commander, but he has not been completely blind to the tension between them. That he doesn't understand its source is yet more reason to keep well clear of whatever issue they might have with each other.

"No, everything has been going... smoothly enough, despite our little difficulties," he lies. He hasn't forgotten her trick for hearing truth, but he hopes she won't press this particular point. He takes one of Bright Shard's buns as encouraged. If all else fails, filling his mouth should be an effective, if temporary, ward against being obligated to converse.

Not taking the bait, Braga? She wonders if he's not following up her hints and leading comments out of disinterest, courtesy, as a message... or if he simply didn't notice them.

Even without Charms, the Eclipse is rather doubtful of the sorcerer's last statement, but there seems nothing to be gained by pressing the point: she's offered help, he's declined it for the moment. Leave it at that. But is it just pride or not wanting an ignorant outsider to barge in and do more harm than good, or is the problem that it's me who's offering?

"I'm glad to hear that," she says with a smile, and for a few moments devotes her attention to the food.

She considers asking about Versino, but... no, not without knowing the answer in advance. From all she's seen, the Air Aspect tends to get a little defensive when his daughter is mentioned. Understandably so.

She finishes the first bun, takes a second one, and pushes the others closer to Braga. But she doesn't begin eating again, just yet.

"I also wanted to just check on how you were doing, more generally," she says quietly, still speaking in High Realm. "None of this will pass to anyone else, unless you want it to. But..." She pauses, and goes on, carefully, tone controlled. She could let the real sympathy she feels ring through, but... Deceiver. Too easy for genuine feeling to be mistaken for an attempt at manipulation, by those who know what she is - a lesson learned ten years ago - and so she keeps her voice soft and neutral. "I was raised in the Immaculate faith as well, Chosen of Mela. The Realm's faith, not the Lookshyan variant. I don't know your history and maybe I am completely wrong about this, but... I can imagine this situation might be difficult for you. I know how difficult it was for me, although the circumstances are not quite the same." The corner of her lips tilts just slightly, the shadow of a rueful smile, quickly suppressed.

She looks down for a moment, not meeting the Dynast's eyes. "If you tell me there's no problem, or you don't want to talk about it, that's fine, I'll take you at your word. If you have any questions I might be able to answer, any concerns I might be able to address, I'll try to do that. I didn't talk to you on the airship because I know what the Realm says about people like me and so it seemed intrusive, but..." She turns the hand that's not holding a bun in a gesture of ambivalence. "This war is yours as well, now. And for myself - I hate going blind into battle. So I wanted to... make the offer, at least."

Braga sighs, putting down his almost fully eaten bun (they are rather good, he's forced to admit). The Chuzei's wife always seems to be trying so hard to be reasonable, to be companionable; her concern is almost maternal. He rubs his forehead, eyes fixing on her face, assessing her again. Perhaps... perhaps it's time to allow her a little of her good-natured meddling. Though not with Fire Orchid and her thaumaturges and her demons.

"I have been... hesitant to trust you in the past," he concedes. "And I still don't know how you and Skandi discovered Versi's nature... there are secrets of yours I am not privy to. But I won't judge you on the basis of the Faith; I've come too far since-"

"-meeting Versi," he almost says, but catches himself. "...since Versino Exalted to do that. And I've seen enough these past few weeks... you're not the one I'm worried about any more."

He holds up the last remnant of his bun, looking at it ruefully.

"You made these with Bright Shard?" he asks. "How well do you know her?"

The image of the woman who plays Bright Shard taking on the form of that wounded scout still nags at Braga's mind. That's Anathema magic. But perhaps her fellow Solar has seen through her...

Ireva looks back up to meet Braga's eyes, and manages a slightly more substantial smile, albeit still rather tentative. I won't judge you on the basis of the Faith - well, he's trying, at least. It's clear he's still not fully comfortable around her, but the guardedness is to be expected, on more than one front. Maybe he truly won't, but just the trying is enough to be grateful for.

"Regarding Versi's nature..." He hadn't exactly asked, had carefully not asked, but one way to build trust is to offer more than was asked for. "I had guessed something was off, based on statements the two of you had made and the fact that Lookshy had sent a twelve-year-old on an assassination mission -" There is a thread of anger in her voice at this, and she shakes her head, before correcting her tone to its earlier careful neutrality. "But I'd also wondered if her mother might have been Anathema, or something of the like - I didn't know the truth until Skandi told me. He had that intelligence from an external source, a very knowledgeable Exalt with a general interest in Solars and Lunars in the East. I can tell you a bit more about that later, if you wish, but first... Bright Shard, yes."

She bites into her own bun. "I'd never met her before that morning in Lookshy, at least to my knowledge. Since then we've spent some time together, but she has not been especially forthcoming. She's told me some things, some of which were true."

"She is a Solar, most likely of the Night caste." Braga may or may not have known that already, but he saw her wielding orichalcum in the battle and someone of his intelligence must have realized that the only Lookshyan - or adopted-Lookshyan - Dragon-Bloods on this mission are those close-tied to the Anathema. "She has near-perfect disguise magic that can, in certain circumstances, defeat my truth-reading, although not reliably so. She wasn't lying when she said she could craft substantially faster than a Lookshyan sorcerer-engineer, and I've had ample demonstration of her talents at cookery. And singing." She winces faintly, then smooths her expression. "She grew up in a Realm satrapy - I don't know which one - and speaks the Realm languages fluently; I'm teaching her Riverspeak in exchange for cooking lessons. She gave Zhou a list of her talents - aside from the crafting, they're much what I would expect from a Night caste. She's also a bit of a performance artist, as you may have noticed."

Her tone becomes a little more amused, a little more edged. "I know half a bottle of shochu is enough to get her falling-down drunk, and consequently I also now have a rough picture of her history to date, and her current situation." She shakes her head. "Somehow people always assume they can drink me under the table..."

She studies Braga thoughtfully. "You have reasons to be worried about her?" Or does Braga mean it's the deathknights he's concerned about, and the question of Bright Shard is unrelated? Well, easy enough for him to clarify in that case.

Her tone is serious again; her question seems genuine, not rhetorical.

Braga's eyebrows perk upward at the news of Skandi's "external source," but he lets it pass without comment for now. It does, at the very least, mean that the man doesn't have some supernatural form of Lunar-detection capable of defeating sorcerous concealment, which is some small comfort. And hearing of another conspiracy at this point is almost as unsurprising as it is unwelcome. As Ireva says, first Bright Shard.

"I find it difficult to trust her," he admits. "You said yourself that your truth-reading can't reliably hear her lies. If another Sun-Chosen can't manage it, how can any of us accept anything she says as truth?"

From Ireva's reports, Shard seems to have been a little less guarded around her fellow Solar, but there are still too many gaps for Braga's taste. She's still too much a cipher. Even Tepet Xet's murky motives seem more easily explicable than Ch... than Shard.

"We know she's hiding things from us... How can we know what she really wants? What she's playing at?"

Ireva listens quietly, and after Braga finishes speaking she is silent for a moment, letting his question hang in the air. The pause lingers almost uncomfortably before she breaks it.

"That's always the question, isn't it," she says finally, with a faint pensive smile. "Who do you trust? How do you trust? All of us here - neither you nor I excepted, I think - have some bitter enemies. And likewise we all have our secrets, and truths that we've learned not to speak because they'd never be believed." She shakes her head. "I can seal binding oaths, you know? The fearful magic of the Deceivers, to ensnare men and women into slavery..." There is a flicker of emotion in her eyes, quickly hidden, but her voice stays light and calm. "But I sometimes feel the most potent aspect of that magic is that I can occasionally use it to convince people that I actually mean what I say." She chuckles softly, brief and perfunctory, then looks up to meet Braga's eyes. "Yes, she's hiding things - but so are you. So am I. I have good reasons for the secrets I'm withholding; I'll trust that you do as well."

The corner of her mouth quirks. "Although platitudes aside... yes, it makes me uncomfortable that I can't reliably pick up her lies. I've gotten used to that capability. But, well, I couldn't do that back in Thorns, either. Didn't mean that the questions went away." She looks into the distance, and her voice slows. "You have to judge by actions, I guess, and accept that trust grows over time, not in a flash of enlightenment. When the Frostwing fell, Shard had wings to fly, and I know she didn't volunteer for this mission. She could have fled. Instead she caught Xet, brought her down safely, and then stayed to fight the deathknights with us."

Ireva shrugs, and her gaze returns to Braga. "Do I trust her...? I wouldn't put my life in her hands unless I really didn't have any other choice. I've probed her intentions a few times and found nothing very alarming, but you're right, I still don't know the full truth of why she's here." She smiles briefly. "Although the same is true for you and Versino, of course. Do I trust her enough to try to help her, and accept her help, even if I keep an eye out for strings attached? Staying to fight deathknights buys her that much, in my book, at least until I get evidence otherwise." Her smile crooks a little as she regards the Air Aspect, but remains warm.

So, Braga, how good are you at subtext? Isa, she thinks, would hear both the reminder - I have little more reason to trust you than I do her - and the accompanying reassurances, I will defend you to others, as I am defending her to you and I honor your courage against the deathknights and I do not hold your secrets against you. Braga is a Dynast; he has surely learned to listen to what people are really saying, beneath smooth surface words. But he is an exiled Dynast, so... perhaps not.

Braga hears the worst of Ireva's implications, and winces. She's right, of course, that she has no real pressing reason to trust him, either... He has precious little of the Night Caste's skill in theatrics, but that doesn't mean he hasn't tried to conceal things from the Chuzei's wife himself. That doesn't mean he isn't still concealing things from her. And for that matter, he's not certain when or how Ireva earned his own trust. Why is he talking about this with her?

Perhaps it's just too exhausting, worrying about everyone's motives, waiting for everyone to draw a dagger from behind their smile. A proper Dynast would be at home in such an environment, but Braga's not a proper Dynast, is he? He never truly was. He can't keep up the game for long. He can't stay on guard against everyone. He has to have a limit. And Ireva, with her conciliatory nature, with her unimposing stature, and with just an edge of comforting familiarity... it's easy for him to fall into trusting her, if he doesn't actively resist it.

But she is more canny than he. Her social instincts were honed on a harder whetstone than the courts of the Realm; she learned when to trust and when to doubt in the dark streets of a city occupied by death. And it's the shadow of death she faces now, she and he and all of Lookshy's allies. Perhaps Shard was right, at least in part... perhaps the fog of lies surrounding Chuzei Zhou's troop is less of an immediate problem than Braga's own blindness in that fog.

"When I confronted her about deceiving me, she said I was too easy a mark. A liability." He frowns, picking at his food. "Maybe I am. What she can do... what you can do... I know our enemies are capable of the same feats. And I know that Faith alone is no sure safeguard."

He meets Ireva's eyes, more or less. He has difficulty actually holding contact for more than a few moments before his gaze starts to wander. It's one thing to accept the Celestial Exalted in theory, it's one thing to chat with the Chuzei's slim wife, and it's something else entirely to directly acknowledge the fearsome potential of a Solar while you're looking her in the face.

"If we're going to keep going like this... I ask for your help in that matter. Help me defend myself."

Ireva meets Braga's gaze - although when his eyes flicker away, her own turn downward, and there is a hint of relief mixed in with her wry recognition of his hesitation. It's one thing to speak to Lookshyan Exalts as near-equals, with the status lent by her marriage; it's one thing to defend the honor of the Dragon-Blooded, as if she had a right to speak for them, when the only listeners are Zhou and other Celestials - but Braga is an Exalted son of the Scarlet Dynasty, and though he seems to be trying to unlearn that assumption of superiority, it's still subtly present, in his demeanor and the speech-modes of his High Realm. And the last time she spoke this language regularly was in the hidden temples of Thorns.

Obey the Dragon-Blooded, who are the descendants and disciples of the Immaculate Dragons and are so close to enlightenment that their commands cannot cause a soul to stray from the Road...

Even knowing the history of the Faith and the deadly-pragmatic motivations behind those teachings, even remembering her sister pressing Resolve into her hands, a gift worthy of an Exalted daughter of their House -- it is still hard to shed that ingrained deference bordering on awe, to not shift uncomfortably as Sesus Denerid Braga asks her aid.

So there is a certain tentativeness, as Ireva reaches out to clasp the Air Aspect's hand, and tries to keep her eyes level with his. "I would be glad to help you, however I can," she says quietly.

"I don't have a perfect answer, though. Our enemies' capabilities worry me as well. But they are not all-powerful, Braga. I survived in Thorns as a mortal child for sixteen years, with far less in the way of allies or resources than we have now." The words of the Fifth Diligent Practice hover on her lips, but... it seems too presumptuous, here and now.

She lets go of Braga's hand, and her tone becomes crisper, practical. "There are a few defenses that require no action on your part. I have a hearthstone that can shatter any long-term mind-influencing magic with a touch, although it sometimes takes a few tries; I generally touch it every evening as a precaution. You and Versino are welcome to do the same, if you wish - or to use it any other time, just let me know. Hmm. It might be worth setting up some sign-countersign system, in case they do have disguises like Shard's, especially if she's willing to tell us the limitations. I know that one of them is that it doesn't teach new languages, so it seems reasonable that other kinds of knowledge wouldn't be conferred either."

She meets Braga's eyes again, and her voice goes rather flat. "As for abilities like mine - if you're facing one of the Mask's diplomats and you know it, the best defense is probably the one the Wyld Hunt espouses. Don't give them time to talk. Most Charms require five minutes or so of speech, in order to take effect."

She glances away, and her tone grows softer again. "If you're not in a direct confrontation - you know I can read lies, intentions, emotions, and if you wish I can pass what I learn on to you. I also have the ability to sense... creatures of darkness, they are called, beings condemned of the Sun." She pauses, thinking. "Actually, I'd like to ask you about that, you probably understand the underlying metaphysics much better than I do."

"If you're looking into Charms, Zhou has spent some time recently honing his mental defenses, he would be able to advise you better than I can. In terms of cultivating the proper balance of suspicion..." She smiles, and there's a certain sadness in it. "I can show you some common stratagems, and how to turn them aside, but... we used to say in Thorns, trust is death. Any risk you take can get you killed, you just have to accept that, because inaction is just as risky if not more so. If you're not sure of a situation... pay attention. Try not to make assumptions. Figure out as much as you can before revealing your own hand. Be sensitive to incongruities." She glances at the thaumaturges' tent. "But Dragons, why am I telling you that? You can summon demons." She smiles a little. "Maybe you should think of dealings with Exalts as a tricky occult experiment, prone to lead to unintended explosions."

She takes a breath, and then goes on, more slowly. "If you know what people truly want, you can often predict what they'll do. But it goes the other way too - a pattern of actions can tell you about motive. Not always - people don't always act in their own interests - but often." What do you think my motives are, Braga? Are you wondering, or have you already come to a judgement? And what are yours, exile? A place of safety for your daughter, that much I've figured out, but is there more? "And if you want someone to be your ally, showing them how it furthers both your goals and theirs is usually a good start. Most people... aren't your enemies, or not inevitably so. The deathknights, or the infernalists we fought in Nexus, well - when someone desires death and destruction for their own sake, not as means to an end, there's not much room to find common interest there. But that's the exception, not the rule." The Eclipse stops for breath again, and then offers a wry half-smile, seeming a little abashed. "Of course, it may be a bit academic in this case, the common interests of almost anyone who's not the Mask are pretty clear... I guess all I'm saying is keep an eye on who's benefiting in a given situation, and if you want someone to keep helping you, make sure they're still getting something out of it. And if someone offers you a deal that either doesn't seem to benefit them at all, or doesn't seem to benefit you at all, you should be careful."

"Anyway. Hopefully, that won't be so relevant for dealings with deathknights. As for other safeguards..." The Eclipse pauses again, and taps her lips with one finger. "Tell me, Braga, what is your assessment of Xet?" Her smile is encouraging, and curious; not a challenge, but a... test of sorts, perhaps.

Braga lets out a laugh as Ireva brings up his demon-summoning, though it's a bit pained. Of course, by the tenets of the Faith both he and Ireva were raised in, dealing with Anathema wouldn't seem too far removed from dealing with the spawn of Malfeas, but in practical metaphysics... well, the incongruities are always one of the Heptagram's hardest lessons for the faithful.

"I don't want to trust demons. No good demonologist should. That alone makes them far simpler than people. Humans are messy and complicated, but we all need friends. We all need people we can trust. I can't live like trust means death... and I shouldn't think that you or the Chuzei could live that way, either." He smiles then, and says, "But your general advice seems sound. Thank you. As for Xet..."

Tepet Xet, of course, is an entirely different issue, an entirely different mystery. He thinks back to another conversation, back before the Frostwing fell, and blushes slightly at the memory, skin tinting a soft purple as the color of his blood mixes with the signs of Mela's gift.

"I have... spoken with her. She is not a monk. She claims to be a 'diplomat.' I think it very likely that she is a spy." He laughs again, more sincerely. "No real diplomat of the Realm would be so diplomatic. Even in its current state, the Scarlet Empire has no need to be polite to someone as brazen as Skandi the Wolf. And open diplomacy with the Commanding Teacher would be a scandal to shake the Deliberative. House Tepet would never risk it. It's been weakened enough since the Battle of Futile Blood, and with Ejava such a divisive figure. She almost has to be from the All-Seeing Eye. Playing nice so she can learn more about us, and particularly the connections between Lookshy and the Anathema."

A thought occurs to him, and he looks up at Ireva again.

"I know Lookshy has declared its support for the Cleansing... how much Cleansing presence do you think there is in the city? If she reveals our activities to them, could they cripple the city from within? I don't want to think that the Realm would be willing to give Lookshy to the Mask of Winters, but given how much bad blood there's been between them..."

Ireva shrugs faintly at Braga's comments on trust, but her smile is pleased, albeit a little wry. "Trust means death. The other half of the saying - sometimes it's worth it." She pauses, and then reaches out to touch his hand. "I would be honored to be your friend, Braga."

After a moment she coughs, seeming faintly embarrassed, and withdraws her hand. "As for Xet..." She leans forward, resting her elbows on the table. Her voice grows softer. "I can tell you that I know, absolutely and without doubt, that she will not betray Lookshy to the Mask. As for the rest of your assessment - it's good that you doubt her cover, that you look for what might be beneath the surface. That she serves the All-Seeing Eye is a good working hypothesis. But... as general advice, remember that your guesses are guesses. It's very easy for hypotheses to solidify into assumptions, so you stop thinking about alternatives."

She sits back, frowning a little. "I don't know how much Cleansing presence there is in the city; I wasn't allowed into the inner ring, and was only there at all for one night. I... have some reason to believe that the people who arranged that, who orchestrated our presence here - yours, mine, Versino's, Shard's - are members of a faction in favor of alliance between Lookshy and An- Celestials. What they did in hustling us out of the city so quickly may have been to protect us." She opens a hand, turns it side to side. "Zhou and I also had a theory that maybe Lookshy's support of the Cleansing was a... reaction, to an Anathema we encountered in Nexus. He had powers somewhat like mine, but he was an infernalist, empowered by the Yozis. He'd been using those powers to subvert Nexus, and he was in Lookshy only a few weeks earlier. If he tried to subvert Lookshy but failed, well, it would explain why their leadership would offer support to the Cleansing now. That would mean it was a... pragmatic political decision, though, which on one hand means to change their minds you'd have to change the cost-benefit equation, but on the other hand means it probably wasn't about abhorrence." She smiles faintly, the twitch of her lips self-deprecating. "Although that may be wishful thinking."

She frowns more deeply. "But even if the Cleansing has numerous devout supporters in the city, and they did learn about us, and about the activities of the other faction... do you really think they'd deliberately sabotage Lookshy's defense against the Mask? No Immaculate monk I've ever known would countenance such a thing - yes, the Realm and Lookshy have been at war, but to betray a living city, a city of the Dragon-Blooded, to the Anathema?" Revulsion breaks through her careful control at that last sentence; it's clear she finds it difficult to imagine. But it is revulsion, not dismissiveness.

Braga draws back the hand Ireva touched (there's still something that seems wrong about touching her, a Solar and a married woman), burying it in his ill-kept hair, worrying at his crown of Jade.

"I'm not well versed in politics, and I'd... left the Realm by the time the Cleansing was declared. So it's hard for me to say what they might be capable of. But in the grip of religious fervor, who is worse? The demons, who you expect only evil from, or the traitor who would lie with demons, and turn his back on his own kind?"

Ireva looks down abruptly at that, unconsciously twisting the starmetal ring on her hand.

Braga winces, realizing what he's just said, and how it must have been heard by Ireva.

"I didn't mean... I wasn't trying to insinuate anything about..."

"It's all right," Ireva says quickly. She manages another one of those edged, self-deprecating (self-mocking?) half-smiles. "I am almost certainly going to hear that and worse from his family in Lookshy, even in the happy scenario where we get that far." She pauses, opens her mouth as if to say something and then closes it, clearly not quite sure -

It doesn't seem like a good idea to let Ireva go on worrying about her future with the Chuzei, and he hadn't quite gotten to his point, so Braga continues. "In any case, what I was trying to say... I don't think they would want Lookshy in the hands of the Deathlords, certainly not if its arsenal was intact, but they might very well be glad to see the Anathema and the Anathema-lovers all burn together."

Ireva nods, looking down at her hands once more, twining her fingers together. "I don't want to believe that of them." She looks up at Braga, and there's an old, bitter anger in her leaf-green eyes, although it doesn't seem to be directed at him. "The leaders of the Realm, at least, they know about conditions in Thorns, they know what happened during the invasion, what was done to the Dragon-Blooded d-defenders..." Her voice stutters; she pauses for a moment to compose herself. "And afterward, what was done to their families and subjects. I... don't want to believe that anyone who knew that would condemn another city to the same fate. But." Another deep breath. "You've lived on the Isle as an adult and I never did - I do hear what you're saying."

Braga sighs. He doesn't want to say what needs to be said; he sees how Ireva's old hurts have surfaced, and he doesn't want to make things any worse for her, but... it's not healthy for her to maintain too ideal an image of the Realm she's never really known.

"They know, yes. And did they ever try to retake Thorns?" he asks, as gently as he can. "And Lookshy... historically the blood of Dragons has not been much of a bond between them and the Realm. Their present cooperation in the Cleansing is a closer relationship than they've ever had before."

"We had... some contacts with them, before I - Before. When there was a Resistance in Thorns." Ireva's voice is very quiet. "With Lookshy too, but there were so many in Thorns with some kind of tie to the Realm, family, friends..." She swallows. Old plans, made with Firada and her advisors in the dark below the city, in the ever-present shadow of fear but also so much hope - for ten years she's barely thought about those particular meetings, based in assumptions that can no longer hold, peopled by ghosts and memories. She can talk about them calmly now, the pain has faded to that extent. But there's still pain. "We had channels to get weapons into the shadowland covertly, and a handful of sorcerers for communications, and the old ghosts from before the invasion were helping us, we knew everything there was to know about the city - it seemed like there was, there was a chance, of persuading the Dragon-Blooded powers to send troops, with the Resistance to act as their proxy inside the walls. No concrete promises yet, they were waiting to see if we could resolve the last of the internal disunity, but there were hints -" She swallows, once more, and looks away. Her eyes are dry, although there is an aching lump in her throat.

"But then the Resistance splintered, and there was no plausible partner anymore. You can't ask... it's one thing to expect that people won't betray you to the Thornsguard. It's something else to expect that they'll walk into the Shackle Maw to try to save you. I know... the argument was made, to send troops, by a few people in the Realm, even after... afterward. But I don't - I don't blame the Houses for not being willing to throw their people against the Mask with no support. Any more than I blame Lookshy."

She looks at Braga almost defiantly; his point about the dangers of Cleansing agents in Lookshy is valid enough, and she'd said she accepted that possibility, but...

It is not the same.

Braga winces again. In retrospect, it's very clear that it was horribly insensitive of him to try to use the tragedy of Ireva's painful childhood as a simple rhetorical point, but it's not just Shard he's inept at talking with.

"I'm just saying... everything that happened in Thorns, to Thorns, that was all happening to the Realm's own people. And the Legions weren't mobilized. I don't know the reasons why, and, begging your pardon, I doubt you really do either, but... the Tepet Legions were lost to the Bull of the North the same year Thorns fell. Since then it's seemed like the Faith's condemnation of nations of Anathema is far more developed in theory than in practice. It's easier to turn the Wyld Hunt on newly Exalted children and call that a victory over evil than it is to oppose entire armies. And it would be easier to condemn Lookshy than it would be to stand beside it against the Mask. We don't want to give them that easy option."

Ireva nods, relaxing a little. "Yes, that makes sense, certainly." It's a relief to be able to agree. Although there is the factor Braga doesn't know about, her bargain with Chejop Kejak - but she doesn't know how much direct impact that will have, either. What does what he is able actually mean? They'll find out, presumably, but it's not something to lay their hopes on. And there's the countervailing factor of the possible infiltration of the Cleansing by infernalists: was Cynis Adan an anomaly?

"I agree it will be important to try to sway them away from that outcome, it would be a disaster for both Lookshy and the Realm, long-term. And returning to Xet - she may be able to help us there."

She pauses, and then goes on more slowly, considering each word. "She - her secrets are not mine to share, Braga, but I can tell you that she came very well-prepared, and when it comes to the conflict against the Mask, I trust her implicitly. She has methods to uncover information that even I don't share - if she gives you advice, or tells you something, you should pay attention."

She stops again, and then a little awkwardly, continues, "You said a little about her family before - I don't know much nearly as much about House Tepet as I would like to. Can you tell me about them?"

"Tepet?" Braga echoes quizzically; he's a bit surprised by her interest. "Again, I'm not politically minded, and Sorcerers tend to be outside the usual social circles... and any gossip I have is out of date... but I can give you the basics. They were among the strongest of the Great Houses before their armies were sent against the Bull of the North, but they've never quite recovered from that defeat. Tepet Ejava, called the Roseblack, has been a favorite for the Throne at times in spite of that, but she is a soldier, not a politician. She has widespread popular support, but she's not backed by the people who make the decisions. They've kept her busy in the Threshold. She's probably still the Tepets' best bet at regaining their former glory, though." He shrugs. "That's about all I know about House Tepet in general."

Braga wonders if Ireva's interest in House Tepet might be linked to the surprising trust she professes to have in Xet. He recalls that Versi mentioned something about having seen the two of them in conversation; perhaps there's some connection between them, deeper than he'd imagined.

Well, at least he doesn't seem to hold any animosity toward them. Ireva feels a touch of disappointment - she'd hoped for more, a story of a Tepet friend or schoolmate perhaps, another scrap of information about her cousins. But no matter. She's heard of Tepet Ejava, of course - from childhood hero-legends told in the dark, and much later, Firada's brief comments about the politics of the Realm, glimpses of insight into a world denied to her. Three decades defending the northern frontier from a Solar warlord, and what would her famous cousin's rule mean for the world? Easy for her to hate the Anathema, surely - but perhaps she might also understand the cost of the long conflict.

"Thank you," she says politely after a moment, with a brief but warm smile. "That's helpful. I know a little about the Great Houses of the Dynasty, of course, but not much beyond what you hear at Nexus parties."

She pauses, and then asks gently, the note of sympathy in her voice quite clear, "And your own family, Braga? House Sesus?" She studies the Air Aspect's face, as she holds up a hand in preemptive apology. "If you don't want to talk about it, just say so, I'm aware I can be overly inquisitive." This may be a raw wound - exile from kith and kin surely cuts even deeper for a Dragon-Blooded Dynast than it did for her, and Versino's Exaltation can't be that far in the past - but... well, it's worth testing the waters. Once, at least.

"My own family," he echoes, somewhat vacantly. He doubts they would claim him these days, and wonders faintly what excuse his parents are providing, when questioned. Has there been a scandal too large to sweep under the rug, or is he visiting distant relatives in hard-to-reach satrapies? Is he serving with a legion on garrison duty far from the Isle? Has he, perhaps, suffered an injury, or fallen prey to a rare supernatural illness? Has he died? Or is it simply enough to make some vaguely disapproving comment about "sorcerers' ways" and leave it at that, with imagination left to fill in whatever business he might be wrapped up in to keep him from visiting the cousins and attending social functions?

"House Sesus is a military house, not too dissimilar from House Tepet in that regard. But strongly Fire-Aspected... mostly. The Sesus Legions have a proud history of service... or a record of bloody barbarism, depending on who you ask. Hot blood... But I'm from a branch family. Sesus Denerid Braga, you'll remember. And the house of Sesus Denerid started a tradition of intermarrying with House Cynis, whose reputation I assume has preceded it even as far as the parties of Nexus. My mother was Cynis born. And Wood-Aspected."

And Braga, of course, is neither Wood nor Fire... Ireva nods slightly, lips crooking in faintly wry sympathy, but doesn't interrupt.

He manages a small, pained smile, the sum total of the memory of several dozen arguments, both open and subtle.

"My parents never did agree on where the blood of Mela entered my family tree. And with the Azure Dragons' association with the occult arts, it... proved more convenient to send me to the Heptagram than to continue the debate."

Ireva frowns slightly. "But attending the Heptagram is an honor, isn't it? I mean, it's famous, even I've heard stories about how competitive it is, people vying to get in - that much made it as far as Nexus." And let's just tactfully set the reputation of House Cynis and its propagation to Nexus aside, here - it doesn't seem something Braga is eager to live down to. "And mind you, I speak as someone entirely uneducated in the occult."

"Attending the Heptagram is an honor," Braga agrees, "for a Ledaal. Expected, for a Mnemon. For a Sesus? The Isle of Voices is far too removed from the battlefield. As a boy I was given toy swords and bows to play with. And the family library certainly showed our heritage. Half Thousand Correct Actions, half Lover Clad in Blue. Their reading habits never did run in particularly scholarly courses." He shakes his head slowly. The pain is old and distant, more remembered than felt, but it still bears a sting. "I am accomplished in my own trade, but I am not the son they could have been proudest of."

Ireva's eyes soften, as she hears the note of strain in Braga's voice, sees the old cloud in his eyes. Oh, believe me, Braga, I know all about not living up to parental expectations... but she doesn't, really, know what it would be like to grow up in the shadow of that disappointment. That her parents believe her dead, that the knowledge of her survival as a Solar would likely be met with horror rather than joy, is not quite the same.

"A few days ago I would've had trouble understanding that," she says quietly, after a moment. "You are Exalted, and when I think of what I've seen you do - we would have given a great deal, to have someone like you on our side in Thorns, and I don't think anyone would call that far removed from the battlefield. Well, maybe someone who thinks battles are only about swords and banners and charges."

"Everyone can see that a demon-summoner is useful," Braga says, ruefully, and he includes Ireva in that 'everyone.' "That doesn't mean they have to respect him. That certainly doesn't mean they have to enjoy his company. In the Realm there's a lot of suspicion about sorcerers, all sorcerers, and some fear... and the common people are right to fear, at least to fear the demons, but it makes a lot of sorcerers defensive. They band together, and they reassure each other, and they deny the risks. And that helps fuel the fear."

"Ah." The Eclipse rests her chin on her hands, her gaze growing pensive. "Yes, I can... see that." It sounds very much like another situation on my mind... "Although I wasn't thinking of demon-summoning when I spoke of what I'd seen you do." She shakes her head slightly. "I might still prefer to be thought useful and distrusted, rather than rejected altogether -" Isn't that more or less what you're hoping for in Lookshy? "- but to be isolated like that in your own home, among your own kin... I'm sorry." It's not quite clear whether that's an expression of sympathy, an apology for the misunderstanding, or both.

After a moment her eyes crinkle a little. "I won't say I understand, but perhaps I can sympathize with at least part of it, after meeting the first of my own fire-blooded cousins-by-marriage. She too does not have a very high opinion of talents beyond the battlefield - she has made it quite clear how she measures the value of diplomacy. Or lack thereof." The moment of dark levity fades. "But growing up that way -" Ireva shakes her head. "I was lucky in my family, at least."

After a brief pause, she asks a little abruptly, "Do you... miss them?" In some ways it's a simpler question than Do you wish you could go back? - in other ways, more complex, if only because it defies the easy answer of I can't, so it doesn't matter.

[Ifni]

Exiles, Part II

"Do I miss them..." Braga echoes, voice distant. It's a question he might have answered quickly and decisively before this conversation, but Ireva has made him think about his family again, remember them in ways he's resisted for months, seasons.

He doesn't miss the resentment his very existence could engender, or the pragmatism with which they'd use his talents anyway. He doesn't miss hearing conversations abruptly change as he entered or left rooms. He doesn't miss the parties, the excesses. But does he miss them?

He misses safety. He misses surety. He misses a well-stocked workshop, a reliable stipend of jade, a solid roof above his head. He misses his books, the library he had to leave behind. He misses attending plays (at least the more tasteful ones). He even misses attending readings of the scriptures. But does he miss them?

"I... miss what we once had, long ago," he says at last, "before my Exaltation. I think I am glad I didn't become who I might have been, if I'd been more like my parents. But I miss being someone who brought out the best in them, instead of the worst."

Ireva falls silent at that answer, but it is a contemplative silence, not a judgmental one. After a moment she nods slowly, but it is another long moment before she speaks.

"To miss the person you once were, even when you don't regret the chances and choices that separate you from that person - that makes sense to me, Braga. I... thank you." More truth than she'd expected, shared more freely. His family still matters to him, she thinks; there is deep feeling there, albeit neither uncomplicated love nor unalloyed hatred. If loyalty remains, it's not in any simple form, but... there is something there.

"What do you see yourself becoming?" she asks, on impulse. "Or what would you want to become?" She gathers the answer is not demonologist for Lookshy, from what's already been said. Loving father to Versino, sorcerer-engineer and officer of the Seventh Legion? There had been a note of... disapproval, or maybe just alienation, when he spoke of his parents' un-scholarly preferences in reading material. Does Braga see himself first and foremost as an intellectual, a seeker for knowledge? That sense of failure, when it comes to his soldierly House's inclinations, might tangle uncomfortably with Lookshyan militarism - is that why he was so reluctant to call himself a soldier, so seemingly out-of-his-depth, early on? Does he not recognize his own courage?

"Myself?" he asks, somewhat surprised by the question. It's been a long, long time since he has seriously considered his own dreams, considered them as concrete, achievable goals. Since before his Exaltation, since childhood, expectations and obligations have hung over him. At the Heptagram, in serving his cousins, and now in acting as a surrogate father to Versino and as a new-minted citizen of Lookshy... the expectations and obligations have changed, but his life still seems more ruled by others' needs and desires than by his own.

"I'm not that important," he deflects, eyes falling to the table. "What I can do, what I want to do... I do in service to others... the dispossessed, the forgotten. Creation has lost, or willfully discarded, so much... ideas, history, territory, people. Those abandoned... ought to be remembered."

He looks up sharply, uncomfortable with having revealed so much of his history and having bared so much of his soul in the course of this one conversation. "But what about you?" he blurts out.

The corner of Ireva's mouth tilts upward. "I was wondering how long it would take you to ask that," she replies, tone amused but gentle. "But before I give you an answer -"

She shakes her head, and her tone becomes less gentle, more mildly exasperated; she meets Braga's eyes directly. "Regarding I'm not that important, Zhou and I had an argument back in Yu-Shan, where he was - briefly - trying to argue that his opinions and goals were of less significance than mine." She frowns, in remembered annoyance. "Which is, er, <yeddim excrement>." She drops out of High Realm for that last phrase, into Low Realm; it's not an expression one would find in a well-raised young Dynast's books of courtly language. "You are Exalted, Braga, that didn't change just because we're no longer in the Realm. I watched you throw lightning against deathknights, and shape the earth itself to quench the fires of the Frostwing's fall. Which I could not have done, nor Skandi, nor Bright Shard, and very likely not Fire Orchid either." She chuckles softly. "Maybe because we're no longer in the Realm - understand. I look at you and do not see the Sesus lad who was not the soldier or courtier his parents desired, I see a Heptagram-trained Exalted sorcerer and loremaster, a master of the elements. I see Versino's guardian, yes, but also I see a man who left wealth and privilege behind, who defied faith and law, to protect his daughter. Successfully, thus far, despite an array of rather powerful enemies including the Cleansing, the Immaculate Order and their adherents, and now the Mask of Winters."

The Eclipse opens her hands. "What you seek, what you'll do to achieve those goals - it matters. I cannot look at what you've done so far and think that what you'll do next is unimportant. Even if you don't recognize it yet."

She stops to take a breath.

Braga doesn't argue, but he does gently, quietly grin at Ireva's pep talk. He appreciates her effort, but the parallels she's trying to draw don't quite line up, of course. When Braga places Versi's best interests ahead of his own he isn't acting as a Dragon-Blood subordinating himself to a Celestial Exalt, he's acting as a father concerned for his child. Or how he imagines a father ought to be concerned for his child, anyway. Since meeting Versino... he simply has bigger concerns than himself. Ireva and Zhou will probably understand, one day. Perhaps soon, if she's not been drinking her tea. He deems it impolite to ask, and simply lets her continue.

When Ireva speaks again her voice is softer. "All that said... yes. It's funny you should phrase it just that way. For ten years I carried a blade called Remembrance, a gift from the dead of Thorns. Never to forget, never to forgive..." She looks away from Braga, gaze automatically turning in the direction of the coast and Thorns. "I do remember them, the names of those who never had a grave, and I want... to make their sacrifices mean something. To redeem the cause we fought for, that they died for, to end the nightmare for those who are still trapped in the darkness w- I escaped."

Her gaze turns back to him, green eyes growing focused again. "And beyond that, beyond Thorns - it matters, to remember the past, the truth of what happened. Without memory to learn from, I don't see how we'll do better. And I -" She swallows, and smiles, bittersweet, "I would like us to do better."

Another soft chuckle, albeit filled far more with irony than amusement. "But what I want, for myself? It's simple enough, at least to say. To be Zhou's acknowledged wife, and mother of his children. To have a home where those children can grow up and not... not fear death that comes with fire and screams in the night, or people who see them as enemies rather than innocents, because of who their parents are or what they might grow up to be." She stops for a moment, and collects herself, and then goes on, "And I'd like them to know their grandparents on both sides, I'd like... to be able to see my parents again, and my siblings, and not have to lie." The yearning in her voice is not hidden.

And is that all you want, Kharal Tepet Ireva? Is that the scope of your ambitions?

Give me the world in which those dreams are possible, where the Celestial Exalted are not hunted as demons but neither are the Dragon-Blooded made subordinate to the whims of Solars, and then perhaps I'll reach further -

But as yet she can't even see the shape of that world clearly, in daydreams of the future or memories of the past.

The Eclipse shrugs once more, and smiles slightly, although it seems a little strained, a little pained. "Another way to say it, I suppose, is that I want a world where a Solar - or a Lunar - can be a Dragon-Blood's child or spouse or parent without shame or deception. Where our families no longer spend blood and treasure to feed a conflict constructed on lies, while the deathknights take more cities and turn them into torture chambers." A breath, a flicker in her strained smile. "Although that sounds rather more grandiose, I know. But... I think it is a hope you may understand better than almost anyone else in this camp, Sesus Denerid Braga."

While Braga's question was asked more in an effort to deflect attention away from himself than out of any genuine curiosity, he finds himself drawn in by the way her simple desire for a family necessarily spirals out into a need for an entirely altered world. And she's right, it's a sentiment he understands all too well. With a grim laugh, he shakes his head.

"It would be so much simpler if Creation was all we had to change to live happily, to live in peace. But no, you and I, we need people to change. Minds, opinions... It would be easier to sculpt stone, divert rivers. If our... families... are to live openly, and without fear of reprisal, we need to turn back the tide of centuries of distrust, hatred, violence."

His fingers run absently through his hair as his lips curl into a frown.

"It's simpler to hide, to lie. Even for us, even with who we are, even with what we know... it's easier to forget what might be, what should be, because it's such an enormous task to fight that which is. Where would you even begin?"

"Minds aren't that hard to change," Ireva murmurs softly, lips twisting in a wry not-quite-smile. "I can't sculpt stone with my fingers or divert rivers by strength of Essence, even if you find it easy. But if you wanted House Sesus to welcome you back joyfully, shower you with glory - or tear itself apart, setting brother against brother, in debating the question of your acceptance? Well then - I only need one member of the House to work the Charm." Her lips are drawn back against her teeth, almost a rictus, tight with irony and bleak amusement and... anger?

Braga almost mirrors Ireva's grimace at the reminder of just what power the Solar has at her disposal. Such strengths are what earned her kind the title 'Deceiver.' Such strengths could make puppets even of the Exalted. But Ireva seems nearly as uncomfortable with her abilities as he is, and that's as good a sign as any that if anyone can be trusted with that power, she might well be the one.

The Eclipse shakes her head, and lets her breath out in a sigh. "But I don't want to do it that way. It doesn't seem like a good foundation. Although... of course, that doesn't guarantee all people with these powers will feel the same way."

She runs her hands across the tidy coils of her own dark-green braids, mirroring Braga's gesture. "I've thought for a long time that Thorns might be somewhere to begin, a pivot point of sorts - dealing with internal strife by focusing anger on an external enemy is an political cliche for a reason, and nobody wants the Mask as a neighbor. I think that for the Order, or any of the Great Houses, reclaiming Thorns for the Realm would be a major coup, and if Anathema happened to make things easier by attacking Thorns at the same time, nothing wrong with that - taking advantage of quarrels between your enemies is also a time-honored tactic. And once people have fought alongside each other... it's one of the better ways to build at least the beginnings of respect." She opens a hand. "The current war... may achieve that. I'm trying to push things in that direction. It certainly makes it easier to argue that the Mask is a threat, even if it might distract from Thorns itself."

"Beyond that -" she taps her fingers against the table. "I have a few ideas. I do genuinely believe that the current trajectory is very dangerous for the Realm - it's not just in our interests to change things. And I am not the only one who believes that."

Her frown becomes more frustrated, albeit still pensive. "But part of the challenge is that I don't really know... what should be, as you say. Easy to say what I don't want - forever having to lie, forever being hunted; Solars using their power to reshape people's minds by force, or just invading and destroying the Realm the old-fashioned way; the cycle of revenge growing ever more bitter - but I don't know what the world I want would be like, in detail, and that makes it hard to work out what path would lead there."

Ireva smiles across the table at Braga, a little self-deprecatingly, warmth in her eyes. "But maybe you can tell a better story, loremaster? I'm no historian, I don't have much in the way of examples to work from. I only remember little bits and pieces of the First Age, and that mostly in its late days, which seems... not a good model, to say the least."

The wrong words catch Braga's attention, and Ireva's actual question is lost. He leans in closer to her, his eyes bright with interest.

"You have memories of the First Age?" he asks, with undisguised awe, and the questions keep coming. "Even in its decline... that's astonishing. I assume they are transmitted through your Exaltation? So you remember... another life? Lives? How does that work? Who were you then?"

Ireva puts her hands over her eyes at the flood of questions, and chuckles, a little weakly. "Hah. Well, at least now I know what to offer if I ever need to bribe you." She lowers her hands after a moment, although her smile still seems slightly fixed, slightly forced. "I don't know the details of the metaphysics, but... yes, the memories are tied to the Exaltation. Most of them are cleaned away between incarnations, by a god who manages such things, but some remain. So far they've all been from the same life, as far as I can tell - an Eclipse, of course, his name was Kendik Arkadi, he was an admiral in the Deliberative fleet. He died in the Great Uprising."

The Solar looks down. "The memories are... not pleasant, generally. They do feel like genuine memories, like things that happened to me - I recall thinking like he did, seeing the world through his eyes. And Arkadi was..." She breathes in and then out, slowly. "I have one memory from early in his life, his first wedding, that wasn't so bad. But later on -" Her hands are trembling. Noticing, she thrusts them into her coat pockets - and a moment later, extracts a slim book, and hands it to Braga across the table. It does not take extraordinary powers of observation to note that she seems grateful for the distraction; her smile becomes a bit brighter, more genuine, at having something concrete to offer. "This is his biography. Authorized biography, I gather, and contemporary, so it's very whitewashed, but you're a scholar, maybe you can figure out more from it than I could, about the time he lived in. I've read the whole thing, so keep it as long as you like. Just -"

She pauses, and takes a breath again, and when she speaks her voice is colorless. "Just remember that the hero lauded in those pages was also a sadistic monster who thought of the Dragon-Blooded as vermin and was entertained by their pain. I really don't like digging through those memories, Ch- Braga. I'm... sorry."

Braga is not so blind to social cues that he doesn't recognize Ireva's reaction. He sees the pain welling up inside her, and he realizes what he's done, but he sees it too late to stop it from coming.

"No, I'm sorry," he says at last. "I should have thought... I know I have a tendency to... romanticize the past. The Realm lies, the Creed exaggerates, but I ought to remember that it's not all lies. The First Age..."

He doesn't have the words for it, to describe something grand and terrible in equal measures, and in any case it isn't his place to tell her how to feel about it, not when she (no, a part of her, not the woman he knows) lived it directly. He reaches out and takes the book.

"I'll take a look at it. Histories always carry their author's bias, but when you examine them with that in mind, and you compare different sources, and try to get as close to first hand accounts as possible..."

His eyes drift back to Ireva again, and part of him can't help but yearn for the knowledge locked in her head... true memory, unvarnished by any embellishment or misinterpretation... but no, that's not an option. That wound is clearly too raw, too tender.

"...well, anyway, it's possible to get closer to objective truth."

He looks down at the book, weighing it in his hands. Such a small thing, to contain an entire life. Even a fabricated fiction of one. A thought occurs to him. From Ireva's reactions, he gathers that her recall of Arkadi's memories, while plenty vivid enough, is incomplete. In giving him the book, is she just trying to get him to drop the subject, or is she trying to fill in the gaps?

"Do you... want me to look for anything?" he asks, hesitantly. "If you just want to forget it all, tell me, and I'll try not to bring this up with you again. But if you're looking for anything... anything you don't know from his life, that didn't make it into the biography... I might be able to help."

Ireva blinks; there is a moment of uncertainty before she smiles, looking touched. "Hey. It was supposed to be a gift for you, Braga. And you're being very kind, but - you don't need to walk on eggshells around me, you know. I'm not particularly fragile."

She runs her hands over her hair again, and eyes the book. "It's a good question, though. I... don't want to forget it all. Might be easier, but I don't think it would be better: the past has lessons to teach, strength to offer, if we can understand it." She looks up at Braga, visibly steeling herself. "If there are specific things you want me to try to hunt for in the memories, I can try that - I don't like digging into those memories, but it might not be so bad if there's information you'd find useful outside Arkadi's thoughts; I might be able to distance myself from him, focus on the surroundings."

"As for your offer..." She falls silent for a moment, chewing her lip. "I suppose... I don't know if you can tease it out, but if you could... I would like to understand how and when Arkadi changed. My early and late memories are like two different people. Was it sudden, was there a precipitating event, or was it a slow decline? Did he show signs early on, of what he might later become? And... did other Solars follow the same sort of pattern?" She stops, thinking back over her words, and then nods slightly. "That is something I would like to know. And anything that might be useful against the Mask, but you'd look for that anyway."

Braga turns the book over in his hands, feeling the texture of its cover, stroking its hidden pages (all in very good condition, considering its age... perhaps it incorporates imperishable materials, at least in part? To think that such things could have been commonplace in the First Age...).

"I'll see what I can find," he promises. "My resources are limited, at present, but I, ah... I have a very good memory. Even though I don't have a library at hand, I may be able to cross-reference with things I've seen in the past... Well, we'll see."

He begins to stand, ready to begin his study of the biography immediately, then catches himself, realizing that he's not really certain if the conversation is over. Thinking back, even with his vaunted memory, he's not even entirely sure how it began, aside from the pastries.

"Oh, I'd like to... But if you're not... Is there anything more we need to talk about?"

"It's been a good conversation," Ireva concedes with a smile. "I'm glad we had a chance to talk, Braga - let's not leave it so long next time, okay? And please let me know if there's anything I can do to help you or your daughter."

She pauses, and then continues slowly, "... I could leave it at that, but I suppose I do have one question. You talked about romanticizing the past, by which I guess you mean the First Age, but... why? I understand why... some Celestials I've spoken with... would look back with longing to that time, since it meant power and privilege and not being hunted as Anathema, but..." She shakes her head. "Is it just that it's our only model for what a unified Exalted host looks like?" Her lips twist a little in dismay; I hoped you'd have a better vision, Braga...

The question catches Braga by surprise. From his perspective, he can hardly imagine anyone not looking back on the First Age with awe and wonder as long as their view of it isn't poisoned by Immaculate propaganda. How bad are her memories of Arkadi, he wonders, if all she can see are the flaws? 'Thought of the Dragon-Blooded as vermin,' she said... Surely that couldn't have been the norm?

"The knowledge, the technology they had then..." he begins, raw adoration bleeding into his voice despite himself, "All Lookshy's magitech, all its splendor, is but a shadow of what it possessed at the height of the Shogunate, which was but a shadow of what it possessed at the height of the Solar Deliberative. The Essence-workings wrought by the sorcerers and scholars and engineers of the Celestial Exalted, the artifacts they forged, the structures they built... What they could create, even the greatest Terrestrial craftsman struggles to maintain. There are nations across Creation built on the merest scraps of their achievements. Their abandoned ruins are our finest palaces, their grave goods our greatest weapons. How can you not stand in awe of that?"

He rubs at the bracer on his left arm, and the minor miracle of the resplendent personal assistant wound around it.

"And we, the Dragon-Blooded? The greatest feat we've accomplished on our own has been tearing all that down, and destroying the memory of its builders along with it."

Ireva listens silently, her expression an ambiguous blend of interest and skepticism and anxiety; one hand goes to touch her armor just below her throat. And then Braga reaches his conclusion. Her hand falls to the table with a loud smack, and her green eyes are suddenly wide and blazing with incredulity and ire.

"What." She almost splutters the word. "How can you... Chosen, how can you possibly say..."

She stops and takes a deep breath, before looking up once more to meet the Air Aspect's eyes. When she speaks again her voice is controlled, although a small vein pulses in her forehead. "The Dragon-Blooded saved the world with the Uprising, Braga. The Solars of the First Age, continuing unchecked along that path, would have destroyed Creation - shattered it without any hope of recovery; it was foreseen. And you don't even need to look back that far. The world still lives because of the Scarlet Empress and the Realm she built."

She fumbles at her throat, pulls out a finely-wrought amulet - a cage of orichalcum, around a bead of gleaming starmetal. Her voice grows softer, but wavers a little as well. "I understand... you're an engineer, a scholar, an artist in artifice..." But she doesn't understand, in truth. Her imagination fails before what Braga describes. Like Yu-Shan, maybe. A world like Yu-Shan.

She shivers slightly, and shakes her head. "Or maybe I don't understand, but I can think I can at least imagine why you would love the past for that. But Braga..." She holds out the amulet on her open palm. "A deathknight made this. Lovely, isn't it? And I've been to Yu-Shan - it's where I got that book - and it is beautiful, full of luxury and wonders and knowledge beyond anything I could've imagined. But should I honor the deathknight for that, or those who hide in their palaces and chew the bones of old grudges and scorn the people who have actually preserved and protected Creation for the last two thousand years?" She lets the amulet fall from her hand, and gestures at the trees beyond the dust of the army, the blue sunlit sky above. "The salvation of a living world... that is the achievement of the Dragon-Blooded and their allies. How can any feat of technology compare?"

After a moment, the Eclipse flushes a little, perhaps realizing that her pose and elocution have become a touch theatrical. She lowers her arm, and looks down: glares and lectures aren't much of a reward for answering his question. "I'm sorry," she mutters after a moment, "for the diatribe. This is a bit of a sore spot for me, especially after Yu-Shan."

Again Ireva casually blows Braga's mind with nothing more than a passing comment.

"You've been to Yu-Shan?"

And yet she doesn't see what wonders Creation has lost? She doesn't see what it could be, what it once was? How can that be? Has the grandeur of Heaven itself faded?

"I don't know what's true about the old Solars' madness, and I don't know how you can claim with certainty that the Uprising averted the end of the world, but I do know that Creation was stronger then, in the First Age. The Scarlet Empress saved the world, yes. In the First Age she wouldn't have had to. Great reality engines kept the Wyld at bay... Balor and the Fae couldn't have set foot in Creation, much less have threatened to destroy it. And... I don't even think there were deathknights then, or Deathlords. An Underworld, yes, that was a product of the Primordial War, but... if the Solars were a threat to Creation, then at that time they were its only real threat."

He looks back down at Arkadi's biography in his hands, and runs a thumb along its spine, thinking.

"You said... you said Arkadi hated the Dragon-Blooded, even enjoyed seeing their pain... might that have been it? No world-consuming madness, no Anathema made real, just a deep, deep hatred, maybe cultural, maybe political, between the Solars and the Terrestrials? I'd find that a lot easier to believe... and a lot harder to accept as a justification for the Usurpation."

He looks up at her, numbers swirling in his head.

"Do you know how many people died in the Great Contagion? In the Raksha's invasion? And... I hesitate to say it, but... in Thorns, too? We're talking about the lives of billions. Had we the full strength of the Celestial Exalted then, none of those people would have had to die. None of them. And... and whole chunks of Creation have been lost! The world is actually smaller than it was then, significantly so! Was the Deliberative really steeped in enough blood and sin to balance out all that?"

"He didn't hate them," Ireva corrects quietly. "He didn't think they were important enough to hate. He ripped a Dragon-Blood away from her family, worked Charms to ensure no one she knew could acknowledge her or give her any aid or comfort, and he thought it was... funny. It was the satisfaction one gets from a good joke, not from hatred fulfilled. Like a kid pulling the wings off a fly and laughing at its struggles. In the Uprising - he assumed it was one of his Celestial rivals striking against him. It never occurred to him that the Dragon-Blooded would sacrifice their lives of their own free will, to bring him down. Right up until the end he was thinking about how he'd need to do a better job of binding the next lot to service." Her voice is almost toneless, carefully distant.

She swallows. "I've been told something of those times, by one who believed she was telling the complete truth, and she had it from a direct witness with confirmation from other sources. The Wyld was warded out, yes - until the Solars let it in, so they could test themselves against it. She talked about them cracking reality open once, when they tried to write their desires into the nature of the cosmos, and nobody understands now how it happened or how it was fixed - I don't know, does the word shinma mean anything to you? She's the one who told me about the prophecies, too."

The Eclipse puts her head in her hands for a moment. Her voice is growing uneven. "About the losses... I don't know. I don't know if did they balance out is even the right way to think about it. Deaths don't cancel out other deaths, they add, not subtract..."

She takes an unsteady breath. "The people who told me about the horrors at the end of the First Age, they weren't lying and I don't think they were mistaken. It matches my memories, and even the ones who wanted to restore the First Age, when I asked about those aspects - they said they didn't want to bring them back, but they didn't deny they existed. I remember the Uprising, I remember what our ancestors were fighting against, and - what they did probably wasn't the only possible right thing, but I find it really hard to say it was wrong."

"And in any case I'm not sure second-guessing our ancestors has any benefit now." She looks up at Braga, green eyes almost pleading. "It happened, it's done, we live in the world shaped by the consequences - and also in a world where that solution won't work again, however bloody it gets. I can believe the Uprising was entirely justified and still believe the world today needs the Celestial Exalted and the Dragon-Blooded to work together. We just have to figure out a way to do it that doesn't lead down the same path."

And maybe Braga can make that argument better than she can, with his visions of wealth and glory and safety for the world. Only one real threat to Creation... the Eclipse's shoulders slump a little at the thought. A very bittersweet dream, that one.

Braga hears, and tries to understand, Ireva's objections, her concerns, but at every turn she opens a new door to a new unguessed wonder, and Braga can't help but see the potential couched in her cautionary tales, right alongside the danger.

"Shinma..." he breathes, eyes wide with the very thought that even they didn't lie beyond the reach of the savants of the First Age. "I scarcely dreamed... there are hints, of course... the crafting of protoshinmaic vortices is recorded history, but those are just... just potential, they were just tapped for energy. If they could actually shape a genuine shinma, then yes, they could shape reality itself."

He shakes his head, marveling at the true extent of the Solars' power.

"But then, how... how was the Usurpation possible? Our numbers were greater then, I know, and our blood stronger, but... to cast down a Celestial Host capable of such things, it should have been an effort as great as the Primordial War itself. Cities were sundered, yes, but... you're saying the Solars could have broken open the entire world."

He slows himself a moment, reminds himself to consider the rest of what Ireva's saying, and frowns slightly.

"And... I'm sorry to ask this, but... what is it, exactly, that you want? A return of Celestial power... but not the power to shape the world, that you fear. You want just the power to save it. But then what? A united Exalted Host was able to assure Creation's safety once; if you bring us together once more, what's stopping us from doing it again? And then what? When the borders are secure at last, what would you do with the army? Its weapons and its warriors? Every war has an end of some kind, but... as the Immaculate Order well knows, Exaltations are eternal. I... think I can understand, a little, why you fear to rule, Ireva, but if all the Solars can do for Creation is to fight for it... they will outlive their purpose, eventually. If there can be peace among the Exalted, and unified purpose, then there will be victory, and then... if not a new golden age, what? A new Usurpation? A new Cleansing?"

"As I said earlier," Ireva says a little wryly - but calmer, now - "It's much easier to say what I don't want than what I do, beyond a world in which the Celestial Exalted and the Dragon-Blooded can live at peace with each other, with neither subjugated or hunted. I don't know the precise shape my ideal future would take, but I know some preconditions that would need to hold; I can try to work toward those preconditions, and hope that possible answers to the greater questions grow clearer as the day where they are relevant grows closer. I wish I had a better answer - that I could see it clear as a vision, rather than stumbling forward like a blind woman poking for obstacles with a stick - but I don't, yet. If you do... I would very much like to hear it, you know."

"Although..." She shakes her head, with a faintly dissatisfied twist to her lips. "Understand - it's not that I have no ideas, or think that Solars can't contribute in ways other than warfare. I very much hope we can. I don't want an... age of Gold, where only Solars can shape the world and woe betide anyone who gets in their way, but a golden age for all, beyond mere survival..." She pauses. "You can imagine it better than I can, I think, but - that, I would fight for. I just don't know what will work."

"I can tell a story. An imagined future history." The Eclipse closes her eyes, and her voice becomes almost singsong, lilting, almost laughing. "Of how the liberation of Thorns by forces of the Realm, in alliance with Lookshy, tipped the precarious equilibrium of the succession struggle. It was a stunning victory for a nation that had experienced precious few of those for nearly three decades, an empire fearing its own decline. Those who had advocated for it, given resources to it, and most of all, those who had fought for it - they saw their reputations rise. And they came back with stories of the horrors within Thorns... and some of them, with stories they remembered but did not tell, of unexpected allies."

"It didn't change anything right away. In fact, initially sentiment against the Anathema, and support for both the Order and the Legions, swelled as a result. It heartened the supporters of the Roseblack, as of all the candidates for the Throne she was by far the most skilled in warfare and had spent decades fighting back the Anathema in the north; they asked her to return to the Isle to seek the Throne. But of course she needed assurances that the Bull would not strike southward, while she was gone. The truce that emerged was fragile, but to the surprise of all concerned, it held."

"In Lookshy, Solars swore binding oaths of loyalty to the Seventh Legion. The Cleansing preached against it, but... the succession struggle was quickening, and there was Thorns to rebuild, for the pious who sought to escape the Isle's politics. Being hailed as heroes by an abjectly grateful populace was a far more rewarding prospect than fighting the Seventh Legion with Anathema at their side. And in Lookshy, there was little appetite for a war with the Realm, so soon after a shared and hard-won victory. Contact between the two great powers grew. Ideas flowed back and forward. Evidence of infernalists seeking to undermine the East provided further common ground. One idea that gained currency, especially among those Dynasts invested in relations with Lookshy, was that while it was the duty of the Dragon-Blooded to deal with the Anathema, perhaps this need not mean killing them. After all, the Dragon-Blooded are spiritually enlightened to guard humanity from gods and demons - and to kill an Anathema's host is to condemn another human being to the destruction of their soul, the worst imaginable fate."

"Slowly the world changed. The Eighth Legion offered reinforcement to the long-besieged Lunar Exalted, in their war against the raksha at the edge of the world, and began to erode centuries of bitterness over their defense of a world that despised them. The truce in the north became the status quo. More Deathlords were vanquished, and with time the aid of the Solars and Lunars no longer needed to be covert. The day came when a Solar who Exalted in the Realm was not slaughtered out-of-hand, but brought before the new Empress and offered the opportunity to serve in the Legions, as Lookshy does now for its Exalted recruits. The peace between Lookshy and the Realm had always been a matter of careful balance, of weaponry and Exalted power, and when Lookshy's new policies threatened to overturn that balance... the Realm had to respond, in a way that would not leave their northern flank open to the Bull."

Ireva opens her eyes, and waves one hand at the sky in a gesture of abandon. "Where does that future go, in the centuries to come? A patchwork of states, maybe, some ruled by Solars or Lunars and others by mighty Dragon-Blooded dynasties. The latter have the advantage of being long-established, rich in wealth and weapons and history and people and land. But the former... you said Creation was larger once. I've heard some Solars can convert Wyld zones to normal land. I know I can walk through such zones without harm or change. So if a Solar wants more than the calm center of Creation can offer, let them train there and then head out into the Wyld, and sculpt a new kingdom for themselves. Let those follow them who wish to. If those new lands bring wonders to the world, well enough: the Dragon-Blooded nations will find wealth to trade for them, even if it's wealth of culture and scholarship rather than raw materials and technology." She grins at Braga. "Let strange experiments and wild leaps of exploration happen in new worlds in the Wyld; people's desire for trade will link the successful experiments back to the center, and expand the world again. And in the center... if the status quo is good enough, people will fight to defend it. If enough powerful people support the system, are invested in the system, then insurgency is unstable; a safety-valve is necessary, but that's what the outworlds are for. And if madness still haunts the Solar Host, still taints us - we will not be isolated in glorious splendor this time, not told the only opinions that matter are our own, and the world is ours to dispose of by right of our inherent superiority."

She lowers her hand and sits back, and catches her breath. And chuckles, self-deprecating. "That's one story. It could happen, I think, with the right help at the right times. And it could fail in a hundred, a thousand different ways. Or something totally different could succeed. Or be attempted, and fail utterly." She shakes her head again, slowly. "I don't know the answer. I don't know if I'm even asking the right questions. But when the other answers I've heard are only echoes of the past... there is a definition of madness, I think, that consists of doing the same thing and expecting a different result."

Braga is at a loss for words for a moment, caught up in the tale she tells, but he catches himself on the precipice of devotion and forestalls himself from falling in. It's an attractive dream, but it's largely built on air... a fault he has much experience recognizing in his own thinking.

"I am not a storyteller," he says at last, "or at least not one of such skill. I could not outline any alternative vision so compelling, and I do hope our actual future might come close to such imaginings. It is early yet to make such plans, though, and early yet to know what plans to make. Until the Mask of Winters is dealt with... any tales we spin might well end in blood, darkness, the chill of the Void."

Suddenly he stops, lost within his own thoughts. Something he said just then seemed... familiar.

"But perhaps..." he says, speaking slowly, drawing up faint memories along with his words, "Perhaps I shouldn't be so quick to set aside tales. There's a heretical god of storytelling called Talespinner, who has, along with others of his kind, established dominance over the city of Great Forks, in defiance of the laws of Heaven and the strictures of the Immaculate Faith. It's a city in the River Province, actually... it lies to the east of us. You probably know it by its reputation, if nothing else. There's a story you might not know, though... an old story now, from the time of the city's founding. It's the story of the first Deathlord who became known to Creation."

He shrugs, expression grown somewhat sheepish.

"Well, not much of a story. As I said, I am not a gifted wordsmith, and, in truth, I don't know precisely what happened. I do know this: The gods of Great Forks defeated a Deathlord. It is said that they told a tale of her defeat, of a weakness exposed and exploited, but it's a matter of some debate whether she possessed such a weakness before they began their story, or if the telling made it so. Either way, a story better told might be a weapon against the Mask."

Another shrug, a slight frown.

"Or perhaps the Deathlords have learned over the centuries since, and the same effort wouldn't work a second time. Still, it may be something to consider?"

And if only it could be so. So much safer than a war, so much less suffering. For Versi, for Lookshy, for Creation itself...

'Or it may just be a fancy built on clouds.'

"... indeed," Ireva says after a moment, thoughtfully. "I don't know how it would work - if I heard a tale like that in a different context, I'd assume it was a myth or a metaphor. But if it could be done again... last I knew, Great Forks was on friendly terms with Lookshy, and in any case no Scavenger Lands state would benefit from the Mask's success. But I don't think I know anyone in the city, unless I went through the Guild... still, I agree, anything that can defeat a Deathlord sounds worth exploring."

"Time may be our greatest enemy, I'm afraid. The Mask of Winters is coming... we don't have long to prepare. But we'll do what we can. Keep hanging on. That's what's brought us all this far, after all, isn't it?"

Braga bows respectfully, but not extravagantly, to Ireva.

"You've given me a lot to think about, Karal Ireva. And thank you again for... well, for lending me the book. I trust you'll take it in the spirit that's intended when I say 'Dragons be with you.'"

Ireva stands, and returns the bow. "Thank you, Sesus Braga. That means... a great deal to me." Her smile is warm and unreserved. "And while it's easy to feel we're just keeping on hanging on... this conversation has given me new hope, as well as many things to think about. I hope it won't be so long before we talk again."

"Do try to talk to Xet, when you get the chance." Her smile quirks slightly, as if hiding laughter at a secret joke. "See if she'll give you the same tips she gave me, on watching where one puts one's feet."

She pauses, and then adds, a little hesitantly, "And in the same spirit as your words to me - may the Sun light your path."

[The_Snark]

Part I: Spy to Spy“Xet!”

The voice bells across the camp, soon followed by a woman. This is, Isa realizes, the first time she’s seen Shard both exuberant and (nominally) sober, and this time she bounces along with actual grace instead of a worrying lack of cooperation between gravity and her legs. She skids to a stop next to the Immaculate, and takes a moment to make her perfect hair look even more perfect, using Xet’s expression as a mirror.

“These last two days have been dreadfully tiring.” She complains. “Having to present as vaguely honest so much of the time. Dearest Braga was the worst, so intent on my intent, and the Chuzei’s wife - she’s nice and all, but she doesn’t quite get the contradiction in hinting to an incorrigible liar that they’re safe to be themselves and they should be honest: by definition, I cannot be both.”

She slides her arm into the other woman’s, smooth as a key into a lock, and matches pace.

“But I think that you, my dear, might understand what I mean, speaking spy to spy, when I say we just take a few moments where we do not have to pretend to not be pretenders and have a little fun with ourselves. So do you say, my lady love?” She grins. “Would you like a contest of outrageous lies?”

All throughout, she lifts her hand away from Isa’s arm a little - a signal that the spy, despite her apparent momentum, is ready to disengage if so required.

“A contest! I accept. But first - ” Xet’s expression turns serious. Grave, even. “I’m afraid I have a confession to make: I have deceived you. I am not the outrageous liar that I appear to be; in fact, I am barely a charlatan at all. I have only been pretending.” She turns, unlinking her arm from Shard’s and clasping both her hands as she turns to face the other woman; the movement is almost dancelike. “Can you ever forgive me, dearest Shard?”

… all right, perhaps not all that serious.

Shard clutches her partner’s hands to her heart, gravely - indeed, stylistically - wounded. “Xet!” She gasps, filling her voice with all the passion of a half-price street actor. “Are you telling me that all this time you have been an honest woman! You have been deceiving me!”

But then beautiful realization crosses her face, and she smirks slyly, almost seductively. The conwoman’s proud of that smile: it is the faint cousin of the one that the Master of the Seven Veils wears in his eponymous play, just before he seduces and beheads the noble Dragonblooded soldier. She’d studied it quite some time to get it right.

“Ah, but that means that you have been lying to me,” she declares, “and that all this has been but yet another sweet torture of deception. Why, of course I forgive you for that, charming Xet! What woman wouldn’t, hearing you speak, even lacking a Durian?”

With a pointed finger, she notes the empty space in Xet’s hair and crows silently. At this rate, there is probably going to be an audience gathering to watch the show.

“Oh good.” Xet sags in exaggerated relief. “Someday, perhaps, I will meet a man or woman who can somehow resist my charms. On that day, I will seek you out and beg to have exotic vegetables woven into my hair, and pretty dresses made, in hopes that this will win their heart. But not this day.” She leans forward to give Shard a peck on the cheek.

“All right, your turn. What outrageous lies did you come here to tell me?”

Shard’s mind sounds with the familiar thrum of spinning wheels, reactions being examined and discarded and slotted into place, and the whole thing is humming with so much enjoyment at the game that she hardly registers the kiss. Isa can feel a darker emotion at the core, though, heavy and stormy - a thread of concern directed at, surprisingly, her. A deeper look would reveal the contents, if she wished...

“Why, I have no confession to make.” Shard says primly. “Only that I am the Scarlet Empress in disguise, returned from the Wyld to search for a worthy applicant for my throne, and so far only you have proved to be suitable. Tell me, Xet - ” She pulls the spy closer “- how do you feel about ruling the Realm, with a not-a-Lookshy-spy advising you at your side?”

Amusingly - or perhaps worryingly - there is no indication in Shard’s mind that she feels she couldn’t take the Imperial Throne for Xet, given enough patience on her part. The plan where the Empress abdicates through the medium of song is particularly curious.

“That sounds like an awful lot of work, your Imperial Majesty,” Xet returns, amused at the falsehood. (It is a falsehood; she checked. Silly, but she’s not the only one who can pass truth off as entertaining lies…) “Why, overseeing the overseas provinces seems like enough to bore a woman to death all on its own. And the paperwork, oh gods - I know I’d have an entire Thousand Scales to help me, but you can’t delegate everything, you know, or you end up with no idea what’s going on. Not to mention all the people who’d want to kill me and push my body off the throne.” She shudders. “Now, I’ve my fair share of enemies, but I like to earn them myself. The personal touch, you know? Much more fun that way.”

“No, no, I can quite understand why you’d flee into the Wyld to escape all that. I’m afraid I’ll have to pre-emptively abdicate.”

“Personally, I prefer having so many enemies that they get in each other’s way.” The Scarlet Empress says thoughtfully. “But the rest are fair points. Yes, indeed, what does Creation matter? Let us wander the Wyld and create our own, better, empire there. One with courtesans, nepotism, corruption, gambling and deceit enshrined into power.”

She pauses, frowning, and holds up a finger as she considers her last statement.

“Wait. I think I’ve done this before.”

Shard’s enthusiastic travels are taking Xet away from the heart of the camp now, further into the edges where the careful patrols are the only eavesdropping ears. At least, hopefully.

“But, my dear, enough about the complete and utter disrepair of your homeland. I think it is your turn to reveal who you really are.”

A quick look at her mind shows that she isn’t aiming at anything more than a joke in the dark. Still, it was a bit of a jolt.

After a moment, Xet puts a hand to her heart, gasping with shock. “But Shard! However did you know? I thought my performance was perfect! Now my true identity has been guessed, and I am ruined!”

A moment later, she grins slyly. “Oh wait, no it hasn’t. You’ve got to guess first, and then I’ll be ruined. Go on! Who do you think I really am, your Imperial Majesty? What secrets lie behind this devastatingly beautiful, absurdly charming facade?”

“Unfair! Unfair!” The Empress waves her finger at the disloyal subject sternly. “But it is true that I set no rules. Indeed, I have been betrayed by my own system. Betrayed - ”

She points an accusing finger. “-by the ultimate betrayer! I name thee, Shadow of All Things! Reveal thyself, and rejoice in your freedom!”

“Ooh.” Xet winces, a bit of discomfort showing beneath the merriment. “I’m not that dissolute, am I? I assure you, I do have some standards. You passed them, even! With flying colors!” She pauses, and adds dryly, “What that says about my standards, I leave to you to decide.”

“But no; I shall decline to be the Nemesis of All. Guess again!”

“Even the Empress is fallible, it turns out. Does it pain the loyal subject to admit this?” The ruler of the Realm pouts in a very unimperial fashion, and makes a good show of examining her companion for further clues. “No, instead, I use my powers to declare you my secret lover, the dreaded Roseblack! Finally, the reason why you never marched on the Isle reveals itself: like me, you never wished for the throne.”

She spreads her arms. “But we are reunited once again, with no Realm to get in the way.” She grins. “Are the mighty general’s standards still low enough for me, my dear?”

“Oh, I like that guess much better! I’ll take it. Far more interesting than who I was thinking of.” Xet grins. “And as the most eligible scion of House Tepet alive, I am afraid my standards must be impossibly high; how else could I explain being unwed? But never fear; I make exceptions for creatively conniving liars.”

She takes one of Shard’s hands, twirling around and inwards to tuck herself cozily in front of the other woman, looking up and over her shoulder at her ostensible liege-lady. “And what comes now? Having each learned the other’s deepest darkest secrets, are we doomed to lose interest in one another?”

The woman looks down at her subject, a maternal amusement playing at her lips. “But do we not have even more secrets now?” She says, placing her arm over Xet’s torso. “Why, a woman like me picks them up as easily as pebbles, in my twenty year wander - and you, my Roseblack, what changed you so much to make you into this new, even more enticing woman?”

The Empress untwines, spinning her lover out in a brier whirling dance. “Why, the moment it seems interest starts to wane, we can simply find another secret to have! But I think your past twenty years shall provide plenty to start with - most of all, the secret as to how you are currently here as well as adventuring to the West, the last I heard. Are you actually some foul Anathema, split itself into twain?” Her smile grows a touch wicked. “Because there is a lot I could do with two of you.”

Xet chuckles. “In this company, that’s not much of a revelation. It’d be more shocking if I weren’t.” She lets that rest for a half-second or so before moving onwards. “Let’s see, here as well as out West - give me a few minutes to come up with a suitably entertaining alibi… Perhaps I’ve always known I would want to escape my duties, and so pretended to be a drably conventional scion of the House so that my cousins could impersonate me when required? (They would never be able to mimic my true, scintillating personality, of course.) The woman currently out in the West is Tepet Ojava, my secret cousin and body double.”

She nods, satisfied with this. “And what of you? What drove you to flee the confines of your preposterously luxurious palace, what exciting adventures have you had over the last thirty years?”

“Your generosity in giving Tepet Ojava her dream of being a military commander is unparalleled.” Shard says smoothly. “As for myself, I often like to disappear - give the Realm a taste of how it would fare without me. But when I left this time, my hand was cramping, my feet were aching, and - horror of horrors! - my back had not been massaged for two weeks. So I spent my personal treasury for five years under the hands of the South’s greatest masseur, and after that it was simply too embarrassing to return and and reveal that I’d plunged the Realm into chaos over a hurty back.”

She frowns. “I did send them a letter requesting they modify the throne to allow for a good back or shoulder rub, but I don’t think they changed anything. I also might have been the cause of a couple of minor explosions and a solar eclipse or two, but those aren’t really important right now.”

“But how many impersonator cousins do you have? Why, when I ruled, I had as many as twenty Empresses spare at any one time, though some of them were a bit too keen on the beheadings. I think we may blame the past few rebellions on them.”

“Alas! If only they knew that hiring a carpenter - or possibly a smith, I’m not sure what the Throne is actually made of - could have spared them years of political turmoil and upheaval.” Xet shakes her head mock-sorrowfully. “I am terribly disappointed in your substitutes; if I were one, I would have taken the opportunity to step into your shoes if you vanished. Well, except I don’t want your old shoes - but I confess the prospect of becoming Empress would be somewhat more attractive if I had to cheat my way to the throne, rather than inheriting legitimately.”

“As for my cousins - five. But one took Immaculate vows a few years back, and another is expecting her first child any day now, so I’m running a tad low. If you should happen to encounter any Tepet Ejava-lookalikes in your travels, do let me know, I’m in the market for replacements.”

“But that’s enough of the past for now, I think. How has the camp been treating you these past few days?”

The conwoman’s mind darkens, though she keeps the exterior light. “Ah, if only you had a master of disguise to be a fifth cousin! But sadly, your Empress cannot abandon her post quite yet - she is working for Lookshy now. What?” She finishes, raising an eyebrow. “Did you not think there was a reason the Cleansing is now here? All manipulated to get you into my presence, dear Roseblack.”

And then she… does not become serious, as such, but drops the pretense of the Empress and goes back into being Shard, the body language shrinking from loud parody to fine satire. The camp is less busy here, though still surrounded by noise enough to drown their conversation: choice-picked for this very conversation. “It has been an interesting few days,” Shard says thoughtfully, and wraps her hands around Xet’s in a position that will enable the other spy, if she so wishes, to have her grappled to the ground and her throat garotted in a few seconds. “Mostly due to a case of mistaken identity. You see, someone has hired me - or who they thought I was - to try and kill you.”

She looks at Xet. Her tone is light, but her eyes are serious, and she keeps them on the spy. “Now, I am not opposed to the death of Realm spies in the general - but in the specific, I’ve always liked them for at least being honest about trying to use or kill me, which is more than can be said for Lookshy. And I suspect your death would complicate my mission, anyway. So, while I try and confirm who gave this order, can you keep yourself safe - and perhaps think of a way or two to be harmlessly assassinated, in case that would be useful.”

She wrinkles her nose.

“My dates always get ruined by politics.” She says. “Why do we have it again?”

“Punishment for the collective sins of mankind, I expect,” Xet says reflexively, her mouth running on automatic while she thinks. “Clearly a curse from the gods. Nothing else could explain its perniciousness. On the other hand, it keeps me employed...”

She trails off, her attention elsewhere for a few moments, then abruptly focuses on Shard again. [COLOR="#000080"]“Well! This is good news; if someone wants me dead badly enough to pay for it, I must be doing something right. I have so many questions, of course - who was it that hired you, or rather who did they seem to be? How did they happen to mistake you for a hired killer? And most importantly, how much are they paying?”

“Some of the details I’ll have to keep to myself for the moment.” Shard says, while her mind unspools her thoughts to Xet. “It’s not that I don’t trust Xet, my dear, it’s just that I don’t trust the Realm Spy. As a person you’re lovely, but as a profession I am obliged to keep a few things from you until I’ve ran them past the Chuzei first.” Xet nods impatiently, having assumed something of the sort already.

In Shard’s mind, Isa can see the meeting, a conversation between two people disguised as somebody else, the conwoman’s contact as Fire Orchid and the conwoman stumbled into her role by the happenstance of a green flare, the same as the one she keeps in her robes. Thoughts are span through for examination, trying to tread the line between not revealing everything and keeping Xet safe, while trying to pump the spy for more information. The words are prepared, the weapons loaded.

“I’m sure you won’t mind - you two seem to get on well.” She throws out casually, an attempt to see if Xet will admit to a further connection. “But what I can say: firstly, I was not paid - this assassination was apparently prearranged. Secondly, that whoever I talked to has an impressive disguise - perhaps abilities similar to mine - and knows a fair bit about you. As to who I was - ” She looks intently at Xet, both concern and calculation firing behind those eyes. “- is Ayesha one of your personal enemies?”

The eyes look at her softly. Isa can see into the mind, knows that the confidence and familiarity with which Shard says the name is a pretense, a trick to see whether Xet will hide information or reveal it, or simply not know it. All these thoughts, whirling about, and not one of them even conceives of honestly asking as being an option.

Secrecy can become a habit, apparently.

“Ayesha?” Xet raises her eyebrows, thinking this over. Either the Gold Faction is trying to have her killed, or someone is attempting a convoluted frame job, or… can’t delay too long, that would be telltale. “Ayesha... Sorry, not ringing any bells. I don’t suppose there was a House name attached? Probably not, that would be too easy...”

All the while, her mind races. Shard is fishing; she doesn’t know. That means someone else dropped the Chairwoman’s name - probably deliberately, because while she can believe the Gold Faction might try to have her killed, she can’t imagine they’d be this sloppy - and Shard is either being misleading about the identity she used, or honestly unsure who she was mistaken for. If it’s the latter, then there’s only so much to be learned here… but some impish part of Isa’s mind spurs her to say, “All right, I give up. Who’s Ayesha?”

Shard attempts to read Isa, but she lacks the Sidereal’s advantages: all she can truly see is the surface details, and in Xet those are as trustworthy as, well, in her. “That was the name my contact called me, when they thought I was ‘playing games’.” She says with a smirk. “They seemed somewhat frustrated with my initial insistence that I was Bright Shard. Whoever this Ayesha is, she’s powerful enough to pull about her erstwhile employer and has a sense of humour similar to mine. I’d say I’d like to meet her, but I’d be worried she’d kill me.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Do people you don’t know usually try to kill you? It happens with me, but that’s mostly because I forgot their names.”

“It’s been known to happen. Sadly, most professional assassins lack my extensive education in etiquette, and attempt to kill their victims without so much as introducing themselves. Terribly impolite.” Xet tsks. “Although I suppose murdering acquaintances is something of a faux pas in polite society as well. That is the assassin’s eternal dilemma, and the reason why I feel etiquette is a severely undervalued skill in the profession.”

She pulls herself back to the subject matter at hand. “Right. So we don’t know who Ayesha is - except that she is apparently a master of disguise - and we don’t know who wants me dead, with the same exception. That’s rather annoying; I prefer my enemies to be a little less competent. The lethally motivated ones, at any rate,” she adds with a grin. “Any other details you can share? Little things that stood out as odd, which didn’t mean anything to you but might to me?”

“I’ll be sure to become suddenly sloppy when it is time to kill you, then. The slave of a lady’s whims, I am.” Shard taps her lips, giving Isa a first-person view of her memories as she examines them.

“Hm… well, first, it seems Ayesha told her employer that the female ‘Solar diplomat’ would be happy for ‘the Immaculate’s death’, which would either indicate Ayesha lying or that the dear Chuzei’s wife is a terrifying actress. She was also quite intent on keeping up her disguise - ”

She pauses, and shrugs. It’s not as if Xet isn’t part of the same team as the Chuzei and against the Mask, anyway. Revealing this might do a bit of harm, but Shard would be far away by then.

“- that of our dear big vegetable, talking about her dead husband and so on.” Paranoia prevents her from saying the name, but a nod towards the commander's tent shows who she’s talking about. “Which is odd, because I checked and our dear woman was in a meeting at the time I was supposed to be talking to her and, according to the Chuzei, agreed on Anathema oath to not harm you.”

“The woman the Chuzei has been talking to is the big vegetable, isn’t she? It would be inconvenient if we were negotiating with the wrong person. Or that there’s two of them. Dragons, but wouldn’t that complete it.”

That earns a raised eyebrow from Xet. “... because this whole situation wasn’t complicated enough already. Ugh. I feel like I’ve wandered into a play in the middle of the second act with no idea what’s going on. I did that once, actually,” her voice goes from frustrated to reminiscing, “drove the rest of the actors to a near panic. It was one of those convoluted murder mysteries, you know the sort, where half the appeal is trying to work out who’s lying before it’s revealed. It worked out in the end - I stole the show, naturally - but the audience there was a bit more forgiving than this lot.”

“I suppose I’ll have to watch my back, not that I wasn’t already - our newest ally might have sworn an oath, but her men haven’t, and I wouldn’t be surprised if one got the bright idea of going behind her back. I suppose this could be something like that...” she mulls over the idea for a second before shaking her head. “... but it seems awfully complicated for soldiers.”

“Well, then. What are you doing about this, and how can I help?”

Shard blinks in surprise at the Immaculate’s mention of theatre. “I chose almost exactly the same metaphor when speaking to the Chuzei.” She admitted. “Only it was third act and… dynastic saga, I think. But anyway!”

The conwoman raises her finger into the air, undeterred by the bizarre machinations of the plot she’s found herself in. “One principle I’ve always held to is that when everybody around you is carefully plotting and manipulating and researching in order to begin their perfect plan, just jump in straight and improvise and you’ll outpace them all. It’s too complicated to work out what they’re going to do, so let’s just work out what we’re going to do and leave the nebulous ‘them’ to deal with researching their enemy.”

“I’ll need some way to slowly assassinate and weaken you - do you think that you could start to look poisoned, and perhaps imply that your mysterious spanning network of contracts and political protection is starting to desert you? I can use that to leverage further meetings, further progress and…”

“...well, improvise from there.” She grins, eyes burning with the fires of enthusiasm and a half-formed plan for kindling. “I’ll also need to hear about this play you’re in sometime. Very important, you know, to hear about your subordinate’s capabilities.”

“Any suggestions yourself, my dear?”

“You know… that explains a lot,” Xet says thoughtfully to Shard’s explanation of her methods. “I’ve always preferred to sit back and let everyone else scramble around while I watch and figure things out - the lazy spy’s approach, I suppose.”

“Nothing springs immediately to mind, but I’ll think on it. Faking my death might have, mm, complications - particularly given that I have no way to sustain a proper cover identity with respect to the commander or the Chuzei’s wife, and I’m somewhat hesitant to bring the former in on this plan. I expect I can feign some sort of sickness, though. Might even raise the commander’s spirits a bit - mustn’t neglect my duties as morale officer, you know.”

“Perfect!” Shard puts a companionable arm around Xet’s shoulder, dragging her along into her energetic stride. “This is going to be the start of something wonderful, Xet. Let it never end until one of us has to kill the other.”

“Morale officer, my dear? You know, I’ve always thought Braga needed a bit of unloosening. Do you think that we could flirt some of that stiffness out of him?” Her expression is remarkably straight-faced, but there’s no hiding the amusement in the eyes. “Out of… friendship. Yes, friendship! That’ll do.”

“It is my professional evaluation,” says Xet, equally poker-faced, “that flirting with Sesus Braga will only make him stiffer.”

“It would be a hard job.” Shard opinions. “But between the two of us I think we could make short work of a long task.”

Xet laughs. “Touché. All right, let’s go and help him unstraighten his laces.”

[The_Snark]

Part II: Stiffening MoraleThe women have the great fortune to find Braga on a night when he is not engaged in calling demonic husks of lost humanity up from out of the depths of Hell; arcane summoning rituals tend to do a lot to kill the mood. Instead they find him sheltering in the tent he shares with Versi, hiding from Fire Orchid’s inane thaumaturges and from the fledgling squad of demons bound in his name. Versino herself is absent, probably off drinking and swapping stories with some group of soldiers, those both being activities he tolerates much better when he’s not properly aware she’s engaged in them.

There are dark bags under his eyes when he sticks his head out of the tent flap in answer to their greetings.

“Sesus Braga!” Xet exclaims cheerfully, one arm linked through Shard’s. “Just the man we were looking for. We’re in desperate need of your assistance. Aren’t we?” This last is directed at Shard.

“Desperate.” Shard confirms, nodding solemnly. “We have encountered a troubling question and need an artisan’s eye to resolve it. My dear Braga, which one of us is more appealing to your personal preference? Is it the winsome Xet, with her enticingly sharp angles and bracing wit - ” with a wave, she hands the rest of the sentence over to the woman in question.

“ - or is it comely Bright Shard, with her lively manner and astounding fashion sense? You see, it’s quite impossible for us to decide. Do we bow to infatuation, or narcissism? A dreadful choice. So it is that we find ourselves in need of an impartial judge, and you sprang to mind at once. Didn’t he?”

“You did. We need you, noble Sesus.” Shard says, with just the right - or wrong - inflection on the ‘need’. “I mean, I look at Xet and it is obvious she is the victor, but then I glance downwards at all this - ” her hand displays her dress, artfully tightened in shallow pretense at modesty “- and I think perhaps I’m being a little harsh on it.”

“Also, nobody else in the camp will put up with our nonsense,” Xet finishes airily.

Braga blinks, rubs his eyes, and blinks again, mind racing as he tries to come to terms with what seems to be happening. Tepet Xet’s teasing is something he has some degree of experience with, as the first hint of his blush might attest, but for Bright Shard to be doing anything other than criticizing him, he must be dreaming. But no, he can’t be dreaming, or Bright Shard wouldn’t be there. Not in this context, anyway. With a mind as swift as the wind and as sharp as ice, he soon reaches the only logical conclusion.

“...Bright Shard, are you drunk?”

He shoots Xet a look of disapproval, a maneuver which would doubtless prove much more effective were it not for the fact that the color in his cheeks rises as he looks at her.

“She really ought not to be up and around in this state. Put her to bed. She needs to sleep it off.”

After a moment his eyes widen in panic, and he hastily adds, “Not here! Take her back to her own tent! She’s not sleeping here!”

Shard notes at whom the noble Sesus blushes, and subtly cues Xet with the back of her elbow. “Drunk on nothing but this sweet presence.” She says cheerily, brushing a hand against the woman’s shoulder. “Are you thirsty too?”

“I can give you some advice on how to drink her.” She adds conspiratorially, with a wink. “Firstly, she likes winning. She’s dreadfully crude that way.” Her voice briefly sinks, doing things with inflections that would be near illegal in some of the more conservative Scavenger kingdoms.

“Oh,” Xet laughs, nudging right back. She’s gotten a head start with Braga, clearly Shard needs to step her game up rather than fading into the background. “Ohh. I think I’m insulted! I’ll have you know that my dominant streak is considered the height of courtly refinement in certain circles.”

“Very small circles.” Shard interjects absently. “No one else’s seen them.”

Xet sniffs, affecting haughtiness. “Moderately sized circles, my dear, and of course no one’s seen us, I do have some sense of decorum.”

“Which is of course why we’re both standing here.” Shard says, bringing the conversation back to the ostensible subject. She steps forwards artfully, the angle of her foot pushing her leg - modestly clothed, at least at current - into Braga’s view. “We cannot seem to agree on anything. But why, perhaps we should not just be getting physical? Is this not a man who prefers a intelligent partner?” She turns to Xet, eyes gleaming with the idea.

“He is a rare and worthy man that way.” She flatters. “Why, he appreciates us for our minds, not our - admittedly fine - bodies. Should we not congratulate him?”

The elbow-nudge, now repurposed into a subtle silent signal, transfers over control.

“A man of true vision appreciates both, as two facets of a whole,” Xet says archly, refusing on principle to give up on physicality. “And let us not put words in his mouth! Did we not come here seeking the wisdom of his tongue?”

“Good point. It is a very wise tongue. Well, Sesus?” Shard asks innocently. “Physicality, or mentality? And what kind of either?”

Xet elbows Shard and hisses (in a voice perfectly audible to Braga), “No dichotomies, that’s fighting dirty.”

“...I thought dirty was the point?”

With drunkenness removed from consideration, Braga’s mind cycles through an extensive list of other euphorics (and aphrodisiacs) that might be responsible for the women’s current state, but as the conversation wears on it seems increasingly possible that they are in fact as sober as claimed, just… remarkably giddy. And flirtatious. And… oh goodness. Oh Dragons.

“I’m not sure if this is the time or place for this… philosophical debate?” he ventures. “I am… a scholar of history, and of the occult. Those subjects are not…” with certain volumes of Demonology excepted “...particularly relevant to the topic at hand. Which is to say, your attractiveness.”

His blush is undeniable now, even before compensating for the slightly blueish tinge of his Dragons-graced skin.

“I’m not qualified to comment on… that.”

“Not qualified?” echoes Xet, drawing back a half-step and placing a hand over her heart. She exchanges a glance with Shard. “A gap in our scholar’s education? That will never do. You must educate yourself, clearly.”

“We must educate him.” Shard corrects primly. “It would be uncouth of us to leave him without the ability to navigate this subject. So where do you think we should start?” She addresses the both of them. “Aesthetic appreciation? The great romances? Courting techniques?”

“Education is a student’s task,” Xet corrects right back, apparently unable to concede any point no matter how minor, “the teacher is merely an assistant. A great student can learn despite a poor teacher, or indeed without any at all, but a great teacher afflicted with poor students is helpless.”

Shard pouts. “There has to be some happy medium between guiding his every move and pushing him feet first into the great ocean of romance with weights tied to his feet.” She insists. “We could at least offer a helping hand.”

...it’s getting increasingly difficult to tell what is an innuendo and what isn’t. The last two words were said as straight-faced as any teacher’s debate.

“I suppose we could.”

“Good!” Leveraging her elbow onto Xet’s waist, Shard moves Xet forwards so she’s standing in front of Braga and Shard is safely behind them both. “Now, Braga,” the erstwhile teacher proclaims, “please proceed with your courting. The important thing is to present the best version of yourself - in your case, your mind must be at the forefront. Fortunately, Xet has a liking for debate - or at least contrariness.”

She briefly breaks off the teacher’s manner to stick out her tongue at the woman’s back.

“So, it’s a lovely, pleasant, low-key party, and you have by chance encountered this charming woman” - on cue, Xet bats her eyelashes - “in the midst of all the fuss. She is holding a set of scrolls. How do you proceed?”

“You’re not going to let me beg out of this, are you?” Braga asks, looking to Bright Shard for a reprieve and finding none. While it’s a far cry from the acid sarcasm and the open criticism she’s leveled at him in the past, perhaps this unearned, unasked for intimacy is also a form of enmity. He swallows, realizing that his throat is suddenly dry.

“Are the scrolls… labeled, or marked in any distinctive manner?” he asks. If he can discern, or even guess at, their contents, perhaps he won’t have to endure the pressure of hypothetically speaking to this hypothetical woman who hypothetically looks like a very well-read incarnation of Tepet Xet after all.

Xet gives Shard a wry glance. This was not a well-chosen example, unless she meant to enjoy watching the two Dynasts fumble around attempting to hold a conversation about the contents of imaginary scrolls. Which is entirely possible. Perhaps she’d better speak up before Shard can answer; she just needs to come up with something that doesn’t back her into a corner, and preferably doesn’t leave Braga utterly at a loss...

“Let us suppose they appear to be a treatise on some academic subject,” she suggests, “perhaps by an author you’re familiar with from other writings. Let us also suppose that I have noticed your attention, and mistaken its object...”[/color]

She does a credible job of looking shy and flustered. Her body language, normally casual and brazen, has abruptly turned self-conscious: head lowered so as to avoid making eye contact, shoulders hunched slightly inward, a general air that suggests she’s expecting to make some dreadful misstep at any moment. There’s actually a faint blush in her cheeks as she avoids looking at Braga directly. Even the clothing is not entirely out-of-place, as her posture shifts to hide rather than emphasize - she looks exactly like a modest young Dynast forced into an outfit she’d never choose for herself.

Shard oohs in appreciation at the Immaculate’s acting before returning her attention to her ‘teaching’, signalling the change by clapping her hands together. “Remember, Braga, this is practice, so you get to be slow and careful here. Treat it like a piece of craftswork, dealing with the problem piece by piece. Let’s start with the basics. Firstly, what is your objective and what could you do to achieve it?”

Xet’s transformation catches Braga wholly off guard. He coughs nervously and averts his eyes. The diplomat seems, if anything, far more alluring when she’s trying not to be, and he truly doesn’t know how to deal with the current situations, both hypothetical and actual.

“I… was only trying to see what she was reading!” he protests, his blush threatening to surpass its theoretical limits. “But I… might want to solicit her opinions on the work in question and its author? To determine whether I might want to read it myself?”

There. That should be a safe topic. Pure, simple scholarly interest. Even Shard and Xet shouldn’t be able to corrupt that with their implications and insinuations. Braga breathes a slight sigh of relief.

“Good, good.” Shard nods. It’s not actually a difficult question to pose, tailored to the subject as it is, but at least she’s established that Braga’s not perpetually placing foot in mouth, as opposed to just with her specifically. “You’ve used the environment to dodge your weaknesses, shift the conversation to your strengths, with an excuse for why you have done so. Achieved subconsciously, though - I’m trying to get you to think these things through, so that you will be able to manage yourself in less beneficial situations.”

She considers a moment, and then shakes out her sleeves - “Like so!” - and in that moment she is equally transformed as Xet, from a plump dilettante to a sour old battleaxe rusted in too much sake and sauce, the fine clothes fitting her as well as a bow and ribbon on an essence cannon. She strides up to Braga and hisses her finger towards his face - enough distance away to keep the intimidation theoretical - and speaks normally.

“Sadly, the shy lady has a drunken soldier aunt who’s gathered quite the wrong impression of you. Soused as she is, she’s important and should not be offended, but on the other hand soon she will become loud and that will draw embarrassing attention. How to retreat without offending either shy lady or sour soldier?”

Looking at Braga’s face, the conwoman decides she can probably add a little help on this one. It’s not an easy question for someone as reserved as the artificer.

“Remember, spin the conversation to your strengths. The aunt’s more forceful, so don’t engage head on. And…” She considers. Given his reaction, sweet words from the Immaculate might go down better, as well as giving her a view into how the spy thinks. “...Xet? Do you want to advise the gentleman on strategy?”

“Oh, um - should I?” Xet asks, refusing to break character. The hesitance in her voice sounds distinctly odd on her. “I mean, if we were really at a party, I wouldn’t be giving advice. I’d probably just be sitting here embarrassed, and wishing I were somewhere else...” She flicks a pleading glance at her ‘aunt’. It doesn’t take a keen observer to notice that her self-conscious, almost defensive stance is no longer focused on Braga; her body language almost screams help, I don’t want to be the center of attention.

“Dear, you should be less diffident.” The ‘aunt’ snaps. “Your mother was just the same, you know, and see where that got her… you cannot just let people swan up to you and push you around.” She finishes, waving an accusing hand at Braga. The illogic and hypocrisy would be irresistible bait to many a scholar’s mind… she wonders if he is the kind to blindly take it.

Braga’s first inclination would be to simply cower and flee before Shard’s fierce display, spitting out his shredded dignity in the form of weak apologies to cover his tracks, but Xet’s act plucks at the strings of his heart, playing him like a finely tuned sanxian. For her sake (for the sake of a character played by a character), he can’t run.

“I wasn’t… no one here is pushing her around,” he protests. ‘Except you,’ a braver man might add, but Braga is not a braver man.

“I only stopped to see what this young lady was reading. But that was rude of me, I confess. I believe she was in a hurry to get somewhere.”

His eyes flicker to Xet’s shy scholar, trying to secure her approval for his plan.

“We can’t delay the delivery of those scrolls, can we?” he suggests, handing her an excuse to get out of her aunt’s line of fire.

“Oh - no,” the beleaguered young Xet agrees, catching on after a brief look of confusion. “I’m sorry, aunt, they’re, um. Borrowed. I should go return them now…?” Her voice rises at the end, more a request for permission than the statement of intent she probably meant it to be. She glances between the pair uncertainly.

Your move, she thinks, leaving the metaphorical ball in Shard’s court. Braga’s stratagem is sound - fairly basic, but sound - and more importantly, he’s starting to be drawn into the exercise despite himself; the shift from describing the actions of a hypothetical Braga to acting them out is noticeable. It will be interesting to see where Shard goes next. She has momentum, what will she do with it…?

Hm.

Well, firstly she had to reward Braga for sticking with the game and coming up with a decent approach. But she couldn’t make it an unqualified success, especially as that would bring the teaching to an end, and the scholar is too smart to accept such an easy conclusion, whether it be true to life or not.

So. A partial victory. The girl is let free, but the hero is trapped with the dragon. The aunt nods permission to her unfortunate niece, but steps in before Braga can leave. “Take the scrolls from this gentleman.” She commands. “I want to have a talk with him while you return them.”

She turns away and focuses her attention entirely on poor Braga, giving Xet a chance to have her character communicate secretly with the scholar now her guardian’s attention is elsewhere. “My niece is engaged to a noble gentleman in house Tepet, quite the fine warrior.” she accuses. “Should I bring this little conversation to his attention?”

With the hands behind her back, she signals Xet. Now her character is outside the conversation, the woman can offer Braga advice, or help or hinder in the form of new intrusions. Best to let her know she’s still in the game.

Xet collects the imaginary scrolls from Braga, and takes the opportunity to mouth something at him while she’s too close for the overbearing aunt to see. Unfortunately, rather than advice she seems to be saying sorry. She backs away, looking a little guilty but mostly relieved to have made her escape.

Braga can’t help but bristle at the old aunt’s accusation, particularly as it calls to attention just how inappropriate his blood’s reaction to the presence of (a shy, demure version of) Tepet Xet truly is. Acting isn’t at all Braga’s forte, and the bounds between the game and the reality beyond it seem all too blurry in moments like these.

“You have nothing to report,” he insists, though too stiffly to be truly convincing. “I have no, I had no… I have never had any intentions toward your niece!”

The aunt sniffs. Though not the kind of person to need evidence for her accusations, she is nevertheless pleased that Braga’s unconvincing reaction has given her ammunition. “Well.” She says, summing up in one word her firm disbelief in Braga’s defense. “I suppose it was just scrolls, after all. A man like you doesn’t seem bold enough for anything realer than mere paper.”

Internally wincing, Jade yanks hard on the reins of her disguise before she gets too far into insulting the student. That kind of behaviour, if at all evident, is best used in care and moderation.

“I suppose I have people like you to thank,” She continues, “for my niece's shyness and distraction. Shouldn’t you be ashamed, turning her away from the proper way of things? She could have been a fine warrior, a tactician, a brilliant general if people like you hadn’t turned her mind towards useless things.”

Braga is torn between his need to get free from the aunt’s attentions and an irrational impulse to defend Xet’s fictional scholar from such all-too-familiar accusations. If proper socialization means dealing with women like Shard’s latest creation, he’s dearly glad he’s never seriously attempted it.

“I…”

He wracks his brain, searching for the words that might lead him out of this mess, and doesn’t find them.

“She…”

At last he sighs and gives his head a shake as if he’s trying to shake something loose from it. When he looks at Shard again his demeanor has changed, frustration taking over from timid indignance.

“I’m going to lose no matter what I say, aren’t I? She’s going to take my words in the worst possible way and I’ll just dig myself a deeper hole. What am I supposed to learn from that? That some people are just irrational and that there’s no point in trying to deal with them? I might as well have walked away and let her think what she like, for all the good talking to her has done.”

“Knowing when to walk away is a valuable skill,” Xet puts in from her position outside the performance. “Right here, you don’t want anything from this lady, or at least nothing you’re likely to get. You could try to put her on the defensive, if you feel like repaying her for the hard time she’s been giving you, or you can simply disengage as quickly and gracefully as you can manage. In your place, I’d probably try a little of both: say something she doesn’t expect, then excuse myself before she can regain her footing. But retreating politely is safest, if you don’t mind bruising your ego a bit.”

“But if you’re wondering what the point is? Sometimes you can’t avoid dealing with people like this. If you were to marry that fetching young woman who just left” - she grins slightly - “or someone like her, you might find yourself with in-laws like this. The better you are at handling yourself in these situations, the less unpleasant they become, but you won’t get better if you never practice. You’ve got to push your boundaries from time to time. Preferably when there isn’t much at stake - ”

She gestures, encompassing both Braga and Shard. “As now.”

Jade smiles as Xet speaks, glad that she’s come to neatly tie up her improvisation with the impression that there was an actual intended lesson and a plan. She waits until she’s finished speaking before acknowledging her statement with a nod and stepping in for her own piece.

“An important thing to learn is that you can always cut your losses and retreat.” She says. “To run, regroup, or rexamine your opposition. But this wasn’t just for teaching you that you are allowed to fail - do note that you, on the spot, successfully managed to distract the fearsome beast from the noble maiden and let her escape unscathed. I doubt she’ll be ungrateful.” The conwoman winks at Xet with just the hint of a sway. “You’ve laid good groundwork for any future interactions, if you wish.”

“But whatever your plans for future action, I hope this was at least helpful.” Jade bows her head to her student briefly, carefully avoiding any mention of the word ‘lessons’ lest he realize that he’s been avalanched into accepting her earlier offer. “I would be perfectly happy to help. And would you be able to offer your experience, dearest Xet?” This is met with a nod.

It’s a little shameless, using her like that, but Braga seems to have a very shy thing for the Immaculate. Well, if the man is going to have the terrible taste not to choose the delectable Shard, then at least he’s gone with a solid secondary option.

“I’m still not certain what just happened,” Braga admits, more than a little bewildered by the two women’s easy manner, their ability to play effortlessly off each other. He dimly recalls that this all started with a question of their relative attractiveness, but somehow that flowed seamlessly down through that strange pantomime and into Shard’s final… lesson? Had that been the intent all along, or were they just both masters of improvisation? He’ll probably never be able to say for sure.

“And you want to keep doing this? Is this some kind of… game?”

“One through which we can all learn. You did say you wished to study etiquette.” Shard says loyally. It’s a touch of a mean trick, this one: taking Braga’s uneasiness and half-uttered mutterings in their earlier conversations and passing it off as permission, but it’s a safe one: if he catches it, Jade can merely congratulate him on learning the lesson, and if he does not she has further leverage with which to teach him.

She takes in his bedraggled appearance and dark eyes for what seems to be the first time, and frowns. “But I imagine you might want some rest right now. Should we discuss this later?”

Braga is faintly irritated by Shard’s confirmation that her little charade was in fact her way of forcing those etiquette lessons upon him, but only faintly. It increasingly seems as if getting angry with the-actress-who-plays-Bright-Shard for veiling her true intentions is akin to getting angry at a cloud for raining. It may be irritating, inconvenient, and even destructive if ill-timed enough, but it’s simply her nature to do so.

“Yes, later. Later is good,” he says, glad for the chance to rest, at least for the moment. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Bright Shard, Tepet Xet.”

The conwoman keeps her sense of victory from her face, but lets the man have his escape: he’s earned it, and hopefully proved to himself that he is a little more adept at the court life than he fears. Should he ever wish to return home, or make a new one, these lessons might serve him well.

“And enjoy yours, Sesus Braga.” Shard says, giving a bow, and after Xet has said her farewells walks away with the woman in tow. She waits until Braga is firmly, absolutely out of earshot before smiling at her companion.

“I think you won.” She says, giving a chaste pat of victory on the shoulder. “Did you see the poor man’s blush, or how your winsome character motivated him? It seems that you are the winner, curse his poor taste.”

The conwoman pouts artfully for a second, and follows it up with a well worn sigh. “So what prize does the victor demand?” She asks, with the hint of a wink to her voice.

“Oh, a forfeit.” Xet grins, a hint of cat-watching-a-pretty-bird seeping into the expression. “Traditionally, I’d demand something embarrassing from you, but if you have a sense of shame I’ve yet to find it. And I have looked...” Her gaze roves up and down the other woman for a moment.

“Oh, I know! I’ll demand an answer as my prize. What would you find embarrassing, Bright Shard?”

“Unfair! Unfair!” The bird cries, pointing a finger at her hunter. “You want me to provide you with your ammunition? How slothful! But it is within the rules, so very well.”

Shard stops and muses, and then when this is not sufficient muses deeper. The same pointer finger works its way into the side of her mouth and is chewed thoughtfully. This does not seem to be an easy question. “I don’t know where you’ve looked,” She says at last, “for I hardly keep anything as dangerous as a private diary, but you’re right. There is very little shame that cannot be turned into spotlight.”

“Some private embarrassment, then.” She concludes with a clap. “Something I cannot turn into performance, or some hidden truth of mine exposed, but as for what…” She wags a warning finger. “...I cannot do everything for you, my dear. Imagine how bored you would be if gave you more than scant clues. We ladies have to have our secrets.”

“Tch. I take that to mean you can’t think of anything either,” Xet smiles. “Ah well. I can’t take full credit for my victory, anyway. Whatever did you do to Braga, to make him so shy of you?”

“What?” Shard teases, dragging a hand down her length. “Is this not enough evidence? You wound me. But, pah, if you want other explanations, dear Sesus managed to upset poor Bright Shard quite badly by making a few assumptions about her past, and the memory of foot in mouth was not quite helped by the revelation that I am a duplicitous spy. The man is - ”

She scrunches up her lips, trying to find a word that best describes that particular bad trait, and settles for “- honest.”

“I see. I had best avoid sharing the lurid tale of grand adventure and sweeping romance that I’ve been penning while speculating upon your past. A shame, you’d’ve liked it.” She smirks. “But really - do you think it’s happenstance that I slip instinctively into the tempter’s role, while you default to harrying him? Does his honesty bother you that much?”

Shard half nods. The conwoman is not normally a woman for self-reflection, considering it a danger to any competent conwoman, but Xet is entertaining enough that a bit of it slips underneath the radar. A moment of thought is taken.

“The paradox of honesty,” she opinions, “is that by speaking honestly I have to be dishonest about who I am, but if I act honestly myself I have to be a liar. One way or the other, I have to lie about something. Your friend Ireva has this problem - she wants me to open up and to be myself, a most befuddling task.” Her lips twitch with amusement at the impossibility. “Does she ask that of you, too?”

“Try not to skip the chapter with the sky-pirates, by the way.” She adds. “That was the most entertaining year of my entirely nonfictional past.”

“Oh, I haven’t gotten to that part yet. You were just sneaking into the seraglio of the Frog Queen when last I left off.”

“As to your paradox -” Her lips curve into a small smile, not one of Xet’s usual grins but Isa’s smile, saying I know a secret you don’t. “It’s like a koan. That’s a monk thing, you know: some statement or puzzle that doesn’t make any sense and can’t be explained; but if you meditate on it long enough, then supposedly you find an answer.”

“One hand clapping.” Shard interjects, just to show she’s paying attention.

“Yes, precisely. To answer your question: she asks for as much honesty as I want to give, and I give it. It’s a comfortable arrangement - surprisingly so, considering. But that’s my answer, not yours.”

“Ask yourself, what’s she offering for your honesty?”

Jade considers Ireva’s solution to the problem of dishonesty, and slaps the fingers of her left hand down onto the palm of the same hand, creating the soft sound of one hand clapping. “Paradox solved. Or evaded, at least… she’s offering me trust in exchange.” Jade says. “Honesty for honesty, a deal to build a lasting relationship.”

“Do you want it?” Xet inquires.

“I’m uncertain how much trust from a woman with truth-detecting ears counts as trust.” Shard remarks dryly, sidestepping the question. An old saying springs into her mind - Trust is death. Now how had the second part of that gone? “That’s like faith in rock. I’m certain it exists - no risk needed.”

“But she is a trustworthy sort of person.” The conwoman relents. Not that you could, of course, really trust trustworthy people. Her mind smirks at the paradox, but does not choose to share it out loud with the other spy.

“Well then, if you’re not interested in what she’s offering, I don’t see the problem. Koan evaded.” Xet claps Shard on the shoulder. “Figure out what you do want, or stop worrying about it.”

She pauses a moment (long enough to let Shard’s mind process that, and to listen in) before moving on. “You know what’s good for introspection? Alcohol.”

What she wants? Well, Shard’s mind knows that. Of course it does. That it is absolutely confident in this knowledge while studiously avoiding actually thinking about or answering the question is another, more worrying, matter. The question bounces off a mind determined to stay as shallow as a puddle, and flounders into unknown depths.

Shard grins across at the fellow spy. The last couple of exchanges have felt like a brief slip out of their disguises - no more than the smallest glimpses under the masks - but it’s good to know that her opposite number is just as focused on preventing things from getting too heavy.

“This isn’t going to be a game of questions in exchange for drinking, is it?” She asks with a grin. “Because you’ve seen how that one ends.”

“Ply you with strong drink to try to coax secrets out of you? I would never!” Xet grins right back. “But I suppose we don’t have to keep score, if you’re afraid of losing. Come on, let’s go find someone we can cadge a bottle or two off of.”

Momentary pause. “Perhaps you ought to do that part, actually. I think I’m still the camp’s least favorite person.”

Shard laughs at the taunt, and grabs Xet by the hand and starts dragging her towards the center, where the supply tent lies. “Alright, then,” she says, “Let’s see how much we can shock them. With me on one, two, three - ”

“I had myself a soldier boy/ muscles shaped by the tides of war….”

[industrious]

Chimera

The Chimera howls in pain at the blows the Wolf rains upon it. The Lunar presses the advantage, daiklave raised...

And stumbles.

A moment of confusion. What is that black object in his wrist, dripping with venom?

It is swiftly joined by another.


Ambush!

You unfortunately failed your detection roll, and your DV is 0 for the first attack. you get to roll Perception+Awareness against the first arrow to keep your DV from being 0.

Attack 1: [roll0] + 5 sux

20 sux

Attack 2: [roll1] + 5 sux

15 sux


Fire Orchid

"I...am...going..." she pants. "to...kill...that...monk..."

Her chest heaves, and she lies still for a moment to recover. Eventually, she tugs at her cousin's elbow, motioning for him to help the more aged Solar up. Her eyes widen at the silent figures before them.

"We need to get your sorcerer to have a look at these."


We can skip to having Braga enter at this point.

[Aevylmar]

The Wolf's hand is raised for the blow, and then it is knocked aside by the black-feathered shaft, nearly losing its grip on the blade. Ayesha's shield is raised against the second arrow, though - and at the same time he reaches his fanged maw down, bites on the fletched back end, and rips it out of his wrist with his fangs, hurling it back at the unseen archer in a gesture of defiance.

Holy crap deathknights! Skandi's defense isn't applicable against the first attack; he'll blow 8 motes on the 1st excellency to defend against the second attack, and other than that just trust in his soak and stunt.

DV 9, plus stunt, minus onslaught of -1, plus the following roll:

[roll0]

Stat Block to Copy-Post

All buffs are factored in.
Boosts: Deadly Beastman Form (+1 all physical attributes, heal a Bashing and a Lethal each round, +4L/4B soak, +4 yards/tick of move, +2 hearing)
Penalties: None.

Attack Pools
Moonwrath - Speed 5, Accuracy 15 / 17, Damage 14L / 2, Rate 2
Axe - Speed 5, Accuracy 12 / 14, Damage 11L, Rate 2
Shieldbash - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 , Damage 8B, Rate 1
Dagger - Speed 4, Accuracy 13 / 15, Damage 7L, Rate 3
Iron Boot - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 / 13, Damage 12B, Rate 2
Note: (Fierce blows are currently off.)

Defense Pools
Moonwrath - 6 / 7
Axe - 5 / 6
Shield - 8 / 9
Dodge - 4

Essence: 3
Personal: 23/23
Peripherial: 15/52
Willpower: 9/10
Committed: 19

Getting Hit
Soak: 17L / 19B
Natural: 7L/10B
Hardness: 8L / 8B
Health Levels: 0/1/1/1/1/1/1/1/1/2/2/4

[Ifni]

Utam

"Just what I was thinking," Ireva agrees. It's not merely a polite locution - Those abandoned ought to be remembered, the Air Aspect had said, and if there is a mystery of the past to be solved then he is surely the one to consult. "I'll send the Wind-Carried Words Technique. Should I ask him to bring an escort of your troops, or anything else from the camp?"

Braga, Ireva here, her voice whispers across the breeze a moment later. Attacked by Immaculates, drove them off, all safe. Need your expertise. Ride - she names the direction - follow anima light. A few words to cover anything Zhou or Fire Orchid might want to briefly add, and then - Bring Xet.

She hesitates for a moment over those last two words, but she wants Isa's advice here. The Sidereal has knowledge none of the rest of them share, stretching back to the First Age, and she is Chosen of Endings; she understands death. As well, she'll be able to protect Braga if anything goes wrong - and they both look Dragon-Blooded, so shouldn't be targets for Nalis and Sar. Fire Orchid may not be pleased, but the Kazei lacks critical information in this context, and having any suspicions prove groundless might help to erode them.

Once the message is sent, she offers quietly in explanation, "I said that Lookshy's fate rested in the balance; I named the pillars of the Faith; I spilled blood in offering. What you see is the answer I received."

Happy to skip forward to Braga's entry (I tried to phrase everything here so it wouldn't require a response; if she wants soldiers we can assume they just follow along after Braga), but Ireva would like Xet/Isa to come too - and if DnD wants something to do, I'm sure we can justify Xet bringing her along?

[Aevylmar]

The blade twists one way, and then the other simultaneously. Two rending blows in the same moment; one low, one high, ever the while the shield blocks.

The wolf is a predator, but it is not stupid. It is protecting its pack; the old male, and the young female behind it. They need it to be sharp, and so it as sharp as it could ever be. Two blows to open it up; then the third to finish.

Unfortunately, the arrow throws off the last blow.

'More arms' are still somewhere on Skandi's list of Things He Wants, no matter how wrong they'd look. Flurrying two attacks, channeling Compassion. 8 motes on each attack because let's be as loud as possible.

First Attack: 17+stunt+8+4-2 = 27
[roll0] + 1 success
[roll1]
15+stunt
Onslaught: -0

Second Attack: 17+stunt+8+4-3 = 26
[roll2] + success
[roll3]
14+stunt, onslaught -1
Onslaught: -1

Damage is 17LP/2, prefer to roll myself, etc.

Stat Block to Copy-Post

All buffs are factored in.
Boosts: Deadly Beastman Form (+1 all physical attributes, heal a Bashing and a Lethal each round, +4L/4B soak, +4 yards/tick of move, +2 hearing), Relentless Lunar Fury (+1 sux, piercing, +3L damage, attacks do not have action penalties)
Penalties: None.

Attack Pools
Moonwrath - Speed 5, Accuracy 15 / 17, Damage 14L / 2, Rate 2
Axe - Speed 5, Accuracy 12 / 14, Damage 11L, Rate 2
Shieldbash - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 , Damage 8B, Rate 1
Dagger - Speed 4, Accuracy 13 / 15, Damage 7L, Rate 3
Iron Boot - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 / 13, Damage 12B, Rate 2
Note: (Fierce blows are currently off.)

Defense Pools
Moonwrath - 6 / 7
Axe - 5 / 6
Shield - 8 / 9
Dodge - 4

Essence: 3
Personal: 22/23
Peripherial: 4/52
Willpower: 8/10
Committed: 19

Getting Hit
Soak: 17L / 19B
Natural: 7L/10B
Hardness: 8L / 8B
Health Levels: *0/1/1/1/1/1/*1/1/1/2/2/4

[industrious]

Chimera

The Wolf meets the Predator, and the Predator meets moonsilver blade with claws of shimmering silver, the warped designs of that which had intended to protect it. The Predator howls once again, its face pressed so close to Skandi's, jaws snapping ineffectually as it attempts to sink fang into flesh.

After the first blow swings to stun it, the Chimera's form flows with the blows.


With stunts, Skandi's attacks both hit - barely. Net of 0 sux.

First attack is reduced to 7L. However, the Chimera will activate Wound Mastering Body Evolution will buff its soak to reduce Skandi to ping damage for each blow.

[Aevylmar]

His attacks do nothing, or nearly nothing. The Deathknight's arrows fly from the trees, and they strike with lethal accuracy.

There is poison running through Skandi's bloodstream, chilling his heart, draining his vitality. That will make it harder.

For a moment Skandi surfaces. He can hear the sounds of the battlefield; Versi and Braga firing bravely but futilely, and see the near-uselessness of his own action in the face of the Chimera's adaptive flesh.

He and the Wolf confer. They can agree on this plan, but Skandi needs to speak, and so he pushes through the battle-fury and screams into the sky, howls in concert with the thousand voices of his anima-pack.

"Versino of Malfeas! By your name! By the life you owe me, by the power Luna gave you, by your hopes for life and honor, I invoke my debt! The life I have saved, I now return, on the sole condition you obey my order!"

The poison forces towards his heart, but he does not stagger.

"Versino of Malfeas! I order you to take Sesus Denerid Braga and flee, compelling him with all force available to you short of murder itself to accompany you with all possible speed to the force of Kharal Fire Orchid and our companions, Kharal Zhou and Kharal Ireva! Do not stop until you both reach them, and do not return to this battlefield, nor permit Braga to return, unless you come by their permit and with their aid."

He's too busy fighting; he can't see what she's doing; he can't see if she's listening; he can't tell if she'll understand what he says. Nothing, for a Lunar, is worth more than a blood debt - but is she really a Lunar? Luna chose her, but did she listen?

"And - if I do not return, I have three messages. Tell Karl the Axe to **** himself, give Symphony of Chimes my hidden papers, and apologize to Autumn Lotus."

Then Skandi fades under, and the Wolf returns to the battle.

It knows what it must do for the Pack to survive.

[Maugan Ra]

Fire Orchid

"I...am...going..." she pants. "to...kill...that...monk..."

Her chest heaves, and she lies still for a moment to recover. Eventually, she tugs at her cousin's elbow, motioning for him to help the more aged Solar up. Her eyes widen at the silent figures before them.

"We need to get your sorcerer to have a look at these."


We can skip to having Braga enter at this point.


"Different set of monks." Zhou says firmly. "Unaffiliated with the one that came with me. Well, probably. I could go through all the reasons, but I'm pretty sure she had nothing to do with this and that will be born out by questions from Ireva."

He hesitates for a moment, then sighs. "Granted, I'm a little more inclined towards your view of the Immaculates as a whole now. I... well, that makes the first time I've had them come after me personally. It's... well, a conversation for another time."

He helps the Kaizai up as instructed, steadying her until it is clear she can stand on her own then withdrawing to acknowledge that fact. He nods towards the faintly visible shades. "I'm assuming they are friendly, based on how we're not all dead, but that's about all I've got. I've never even heard of anything like this outside of the more fanciful campfire stories... but it's heartening, none the less."

[Ascension]

Fire Orchid's Camp

It's shaping up to be a fine morning. According to the camp gossip, the Kazei has some business to attend to with the Chuzei and his wife, meaning that the march is delayed for the moment. That means the first calm day since joining her troops, and Braga is determined to enjoy it. He's sent the Kazei's thaumaturges off to attend to an errand basic enough that, even unsupervised, they shouldn't be able to screw it up, giving him the time to sit and savor a cup of tea. Not army provisions, either; he's brewed the last pinch of his private stash, leaves grown in the far East, where the tea plants grow tall and strong under the influence of the Elemental Pole of Wood. Yes, it's-

Braga, Ireva here. Attacked by Immaculates, drove them off, all safe. Need your expertise. Ride - she names a direction - follow anima light. Bring Xet.

-a terrible morning. A terrible morning indeed. There are Immaculates afoot (not subdued, 'driven off'), there's some unexplained but pressing need for his particular skills, and, despite the sensitivity of the situation, Ireva wants him to bring the Realm monk spy diplomat spy. He knows the two women have some sort of deeper connection or trust in each other, and he wants to trust Ireva's judgement, but still...

And Versi, Dragons, Versi. He can't leave her alone with Immaculate monks on the hunt so near at hand. Tea forgotten, he rushes back to their tent, hoping to find her there, resting or studying her books, and not off trading stories with soldiers again.

"Versino," he says, voice hushed but urgent, "You told me once that you thought Tepet Xet might be some sort of 'Sidereal Exalted,' said that Skandi spun some whole story about them to you. How much faith do you have that she's not here at the behest of the Realm?"

[Inspector Valin]

"... fairly sure?" Versi blinked, scrambling to her feet and using Skycutter to heft herself upwards. She looked towards Braga with puzzlement, their arguments forgotten for a second: his question seemed bizarre. Had he run into some evidence that proved her right? The young Lunar cast her gaze around, expecting Heavenly Assassins to literally step out of nowhere to fight them. At their failure to materialize, she turned back to Braga, still puzzled. "Has something happened?"

Sorry for the brief post, wanted to keep this moving, but a little tired. Midnight over here

[Ascension]

In Camp

Braga glances over his shoulder, feeling ill at ease even in the increasingly familiar confines of the camp tent.

"I'm afraid... your fears about the Cleansing may have been justified. There are Immaculate monks active in this area. Ireva says she and the Chuzei are safe, for the moment, but some other problem has arisen, and she's asked for my assistance. But I need you to stay with me. With those monks around... the whole camp's seen your wings by now. You may not be safe here. And Xet..."

The scholar furrows his brow, thinking back over all his interactions with the flirtatious monk diplomat spy ("Sidereal"?). She's likable, certainly, but that doesn't necessarily mean she's trustworthy. But Ireva shouldn't get the two confused, should she? He hopes she wouldn't. Her ears can discern lies, but there's so much hope in her heart...

"...Ireva wants me to bring her along."

[Ifni]

Utam

A conversation for another time, indeed. Although she supposes it might not be so bad for Fire Orchid to feel that Zhou is amenable to persuasion on that point. While the Zenith is still thinking about the question, not freezing them out, there is room for change.

"I'll contact Skandi, as well," she says after a moment. "He should be warned, and if this was planned as any kind of one-two punch - decapitate your army's leadership and then strike at the camp in the resulting confusion - he's in a better position than we are to do something about it." Braga will tell Isa, and as for Shard and Versino - well, Shard is disguised as a Dragon-Blood and unlikely to be a target, and if Braga and Skandi are both alerted, they'll surely see to the little girl's safety.

Ireva speaking, her voice whispers in Skandi's ear a moment later. Nalis, Sar attacked - drove them off, no one harmed. Mystery out here, staying to solve - but allies, troops possible targets. Alert, protect them?

As they wait, she glances at Fire Orchid. "Kazei - what did the Immaculates who killed your husband look like? If you don't wish to talk about it, well enough. I'm only asking because one of those monks wanted vengeance; it felt like a personal grudge."

Just continuing the conversation, since it looks like it'll be a little while before the reinforcements show up. And... sorry, Aevy, if you want to get involved in this scene I can rewrite this or Skandi can decide to do something else, but Ireva is a bit worried about leaving the camp without (trustworthy) Exalted defenders, and Skandi is pretty clearly the one she'd look to for that (she doesn't trust Shard, Versi is a child, whereas Skandi is a warrior with actual experience at leading troops).

[Inspector Valin]

Earlier in the day

Versi tensed at the mention of the Cleansing, far from happy at the validation of her earlier thought. That'd been one note in a sea of worries, but even she hadn't expected them out here, with the threat of war so close to Lookshy. Everyone's at risk now. It was... irritating. One more thing dragging her down, that she had to focus on. Xet was another. The faux-monk's true alliance was an important point... but Versi honestly couldn't be entirely sure of where her heart lay. Suspicions and theories wouldn't be enough for Braga, let alone Fire Orchid. She shook her head, focused on Braga's earlier question. "She does seem to really think like the Immaculates a little bit. She doesn't like the Bull of the North much. I don't know more than that."

The young Lunar is silent for a few seconds, weighing the question before nodding to her adoptive father. "Better to bring her with us than leaving her here. I'll keep an eye on her, on the way and once we're there. With so many other Exalted in one place, there's not much that she can do." Hopefully, at least. Dependingon who or what Xet really was.

Chimera Fight.

Versi's fury was a different thing to Skandi's: whilst the wolf's heart ran hot with the flames of battle, the young Lunar's mind was darkened, eclipsed, shaded. The smiles and laughter were locked away behind a wall of quiet and calm, only the immediacy of the fighting sticking with her. Stuff that was unrelated to the conflict got filed away in some distant portion of her brain as something to be used for later, something that didn't matter right now... at least usually. Skandi's words, however, shattered the wall of detachment Versi's essence had placed around herself. With his last invocation of her name, the black flame faded from the young Lunar's eyes and she suddenly looked very pale..

It was hard to decide whether to obey or not. On some level, the fight had only just begun, and even without the Fury wrapping up her mind, some part of Versi's heart was crying out to strike down whatever distant attacker had ambushed Skandi. But that wasn't what the northman himself wanted, was it? And even though she wasn't a member of their pact, he was still holding her accountable to their rules. Their standards.

Versino's crimson wings spread wide as she pulled together a familiar essence knot, the Scarlet Crane of her anima flaring into being above her. The young Lunar hefted Skycutter onto her back, eyes lingering on the still struggling Skandi. Her face was pallid as she nodded to his back, muttering as her essence cannon slotted into place. "Don't die, wolf. We're not going far. This isn't where your story ends" Glancing to her side, Versi looked towards Braga, stepping closer to him as she called out. "Father, you heard him. Are you ready to leave this place?"

Current stunt calculations put Versi at 51 motes of Peripheral. Spending 32 motes on seven invocations of Instinct Driven Beast Movement, which flares her anima to Totemic Full Moon. Wings puts her basic dash speed at 18 yards per tick, that's 144 yards per tick of enhanced Dash, as the crow flies. She can reach the camp in about twelve ticks after this Simple Charm Activation, give or take.

And even whilst wounded, she's still effectively Str+Ath 6. She could conceivably ferry people back into the fight if Skandi can hold out that long.

[Ascension]

Earlier, in Camp

Braga is inclined to agree with Versi's assessment. Should it prove that Xet is a traitor after all... well, at the very least, she'll be outnumbered. He sincerely hopes it doesn't come to that.

He nods, but adds, "We don't tell her about the Immaculates until we rejoin with Ireva, the Chuzei, and the Kazei. If she's a part of this, it's unlikely she doesn't already know they're here, but if she doesn't... we shouldn't be the ones to tell her."

With that guideline established, there's no more reason to delay. There's no time for second guessing. Fortunately, with the camp's widespread suspicion of Xet, it's not difficult to find out where she was seen last. Braga isn't particularly surprised to find her in the company of Bright Shard... the two of them seem to have become fast friends since the Frostwing's crash.

'Whether that's more or less reason to trust Xet is hard to say.'

"Tepet Xet," he calls out, formally, but not coldly, "Karal Ireva has encountered some problem and has requested our assistance. She asked for you and me by name, and asked us to ride to meet her."

He nods to his daughter and manages a smile.

"I asked Versino to come along. It's been far too long since she's had a chance to watch her father at work."

And too long since he's had proper work. If it weren't for the threat of the Immaculates, Braga would be pleased to have some conundrum to focus on. But under these circumstances...

"Shall we be going?"

Under the Full Moon

Hope can be drowned just as quickly as it is kindled. Suddenly it's Skandi who seems painfully mortal, pierced by arrows from out of the darkness, faced with a foe whose very body is adapting to his tactics. His words are no more encouraging... this is a farewell.

It is no secret that Sesus Denerid Braga and Skandi Dragonsbane have rarely seen eye to eye, but the ex-Dynast has never truly wished the Wolf ill. Certainly not like this. Faced with a wounded Skandi pleading for him to flee, his first urge, whether born of compassion or contrariness or both, is to stand, to defy the odds, to defy despair, to be the image of the Exalted hero he has so often invoked to encourage Versi...

...but no, he is not that hero, and this is not to be a legendary triumph. If tales are ever told about this night, it seems increasingly likely that they will be tragedies.

"Skandi..."

He has no words. To tell the truth, he hadn't even considered this possibility, seeing the great Northern barbarian, the great Lunar warrior, outmatched and overpowered. The reality of the situation seems almost as absurd as it is terrible.

"Walk away from this," he murmurs. Whether it's an exhortation, a command, or a prayer, he couldn't say.

With that he turns his face from the scene, though he stays wary of the threat of incoming arrows.

"Yes, Versi. Let's... let's go."

[industrious]

Chimera

As Skandi weakens from the poison now coursing through his veins, the Chimera attacks once more as padded feet leap off the ground, the creature pouncing upon the Wolf.


Activating Twin Fang Technique.
13 sux
[roll0]


Fire Orchid

She describes the monks tersely, and the couple can easily recognize the descriptions of Nalis and Sar.

Shortly thereafter, Xet, Versino, and Bright Shard arrive.

[Ifni]

Utam

Ireva listens gravely to Fire Orchid's descriptions, and keeps her face smooth, although part of her is muttering That's not what we were given to understand earlier. But that really is a conversation for another time. It seems consistent, at least, with her guess: Nalis and Sar lost loved ones to a Solar not so long ago, and for it to happen again...

As the others enter the glade she moves to greet them, although she still doesn't sheathe her sword. The little Solar hasn't taken the time to repair her clothing, and she looks as if she's been picked up by a hurricane and dumped in the ocean - which, after all, is more or less what happened. Her hair is coming loose from its neat braids in wild drifting dark-green tangles, and her coat and trousers are in tatters, revealing the old ropy scars twisting along her arms and legs. But there are no wounds apparent, no deep bruises or broken bones - only a thin red line on one forearm, amidst the many thin white scars.

"Thank you for coming. I don't know how much B- the Chozei told the rest of you..." It is half a question, as she looks at each of them in turn. Braga and Isa, she trusts to understand this. Versino... is too young, as always, but she is Braga's daughter, and might be Lookshyan in time. And then there is Shard, and part of Ireva wishes rather strongly that the conwoman was not here in this place of solemn light and silence, but - nothing to be done about it now.

Whatever she sees in their faces, she goes on quietly, "The short version is that the Kazei brought us here because this was the site of an ancient battle between the Seventh Legion and its foes, for the great manse-fortress that stood nearby. As we prepared to offer remembrance, we were attacked by two Immaculate masters. In the course of the fight I spoke of Lookshy's mortal danger, and spilled my blood in sacrifice. These -" She takes a hand off her sword-hilt for a moment, to indicate the ranks of translucent forms, "- rose in answer, and the Immaculates retreated. But they have not spoken to us, nor responded to our words."

She looks at the Air Aspect. "Chozei, I know you are a loremaster dedicated to remembrance of the past, as well as a sorcerer; we -" And she does stress that we faintly, head tilting toward Zhou and Fire Orchid, "- hoped you might be able to shed some light on what happened here. And on how we should proceed, to ensure due honor to the dead." At the last words her gaze flicks to Xet, lingering for a long moment.

[Ascension]

All Braga's worries about the Order and the Cleansing, about Wyld Hunts and Tepet Xet, fall away in the moment he spies the sunlit spectres standing at the edge of the wood. He spurs his horse ahead of the others, drawing in for a closer look. He's read extensive accounts of ghosts and of the Underworld, but he's never seen so many shades with his own eyes, much less arrayed in Creation, much less without the apparent aid or direction of a necromancer. It's a marvelous sight to behold, and he overflows with questions...

...but then he hears Ireva speaking, and her directness brings reality crashing back in on him. He brings his horse about, turning to face Xet, turning to see what she will do. He doesn't precisely expect to be betrayed; it's more accurate to say that betrayal would surprise him no more than any other reaction. The question of the woman's loyalties must be settled one way or another, though, before he'll be able to truly consider the mystery of the ghosts.

"Immaculates. What have you to say to this news?" he asks the 'diplomat,' voice dry and shaky.

[The_Snark]

Tepet Xet is quieter than usual as they ride out, exchanging a bit of light banter with Shard but mostly focusing on the ride. Even that much falls away as brilliant gold anima-light becomes visible above the treetops, like a second sun rising. The layers of flippancy and poise she wears as armor are thin today, revealing a pensive mood beneath. She keeps a careful eye on the land around them as they ride.

In contrast to Braga, she reins her horse in as the glade comes into view. Sunlight bathes the clearing from multiple directions, banishing the shadows to cower behind the trees and painting the land a rich gold; the air is thick with it, like honey, like a lazy summer afternoon. The blaze of Zhou's anima lends the scene an orange tint, but it is the Sun's power that shines brightest here. And in that light, glimmering like dust caught in sunbeams, stand the silhouettes of soldiers, rank upon rank of them, standing and watching.

Ghosts? Perhaps. It doesn't feel like ghosts, though; this place looks very nearly opposite to the Underworld. Isa sharpens her senses with Essence, listening for the heartbeat of Creation...

It takes her a moment to realize that she's being addressed; a snort from Braga's horse catches her eye. He's... oh yes, of course. Her cover. He's not sure how a supposed Dynast will react to this.

"What do you expect me to say?" she asks bluntly. "I didn't know they were here, if that's what you're asking. And I'm not particularly happy to hear it. This situation is complicated enough without adding monks into the mix; I'd much sooner have them shadowing the other army."

Activating Telltale Symphony.

[Ifni]

"She's telling the truth," Ireva says - calmly, but in her voice there is a hint of weariness, the adrenaline of the battle starting to recede. She glances at Fire Orchid. "Although I guess you don't need my word for that anymore, Kazei." Despite the light level tone, there is a hint of a plea in her green eyes. Trust me in this, Kharal Fire Orchid...

She looks back at Braga, but her words are clearly for the other Solar as well. "I would not have asked you to bring her here, Chozei, to this sacred ground, if I thought there was any chance she had betrayed us or Lookshy. I did judge her presence might offer your party some protection, make you less likely to be attacked - the Immaculates left, we didn't destroy them - but that is only to our benefit."

She looks up at Xet, and smiles, the expression a little muted. "From one sworn ally of Lookshy to another - I welcome you to Utam, Tepet Xet."

Standing in the light of Ireva's anima, surrounded by the shades called up by her sacrifice, will Fire Orchid deny her right to make this judgement and offer that welcome? It seems like it would be far easier to gracefully accede and accept Xet's presence, but she is not sure she's fully grasped how the Kazei thinks.

[DeafnotDumb]

Whatever Shard's employers liked in a well-rounded woman, it evidently didn't involve riding, or at least not the kind of riding that involved sitting on top of animals while they transported you someplace. She started out by glaring through her hangover at the horse provided, progresses to fending off attempts to eat her hair, and finishes clinging for dear life onto the beasts neck while it gallops along with the others. By the time she arrives, the effort of not falling off while maintaining brief banter with Tepet Xet has made her even more weary-eyed, and she uses this as an excuse to hang around the back of the conversation and pretend shyness as Shard's reason to keep away from the camp's commander.

Her eyes do, however, briefly alight on the gleaming gold collar around Fire Orchid's neck and dart away smiling. Perhaps Tepet Xet can feel the wheels of her mind twitch as the expected evidence is stored away, to use in future plans.

[Maugan Ra]

For his part, Zhou stands there silently as the rest of their strange little group arrives. The flames that coil around him have largely faded by this point, reduced only to faint embers, but it will not escape notice that the Chuzei remains on-edge, as though half-expecting more trouble to break out at any moment.

"The arguments about trustworthiness have been made already." He says at last, before looking to Braga. "Therefore, I would pursue a fresh angle of inquiry. Chozei, you are the most knowledgeable among us on occult matters. Anything you can tell us about this... manifestation would be appreciated. The most I can confirm is that I should be surprised if these are ghosts as I know the term, for Lookshy's faith is similar to the Realm's when it comes to the matter of reincarnation."

[Inspector Valin]

An Importune Heart (Earlier on the march towards Lookshy)

The gentle woodland was quiet and dark, some distance from the lights of Fire Orchid’s great camp. If secret Lunars or dead things were lurking behind the trees, they kept largely to themselves. The only sounds were the gentle rustling of leaves, blowing in a chill nightly wind. Even the creatures of the forest had the good sense to be abed at this hour. All that was left were shadows, darkened boughs, and the distant light of Luna.

It was, in short, the perfect time for a private conversation.

The strange duo who had left the camp five minutes ago finally came to a halt, the smaller figure turning back to look towards the taller one. She’d pushed herself to still be standing here so late, still weak after all this time. Still, it was worth it. Lowering her hood, Versi looked up towards her friend.

“Is this far enough?”

“It’s more than far enough, Versi,” Braga answered, too tired himself to keep his frustration entirely out of his voice. “We’ve little enough to hide now.”

Braga wasn’t sure what she was trying to keep so quiet. If her Lunar nature had ever been a secret from any of the others, it certainly wasn’t any longer. He didn’t want to be frustrated with her, but he knew she shouldn’t be straining herself so soon after her injury, and what kind of conversation might still occasion a walk so far out of camp, so deep in the night?

Then an actual possibility occurred to him, and he frowned, but when he spoke again his tone was more compassionate.

“You’ve not been having nightmares, have you? About… the time before your Exaltation?”

Memories of Malfeas, those they might still speak of in whispers.

“What? No!” The suggestion blindsided Versi; she hadn’t had cause to think about the Theatre for a fair while. Compared to things such as Thorns or people like the Black Hand, Malfeas seemed almost quaint and charming. Though honestly, she was mostly just surprised. The young Lunar sighed, leaning back against the oak as she met Braga’s gaze.

“I just…” It was hard to know where to start. Versi looked towards the ground, taking a deep breath before beginning slowly to explain herself. “We need to have a plan. About going back to Lookshy. A lot of people here know what I am now. I still have my magic, but I’m not sure if my spell will be enough any more. And the Cleansing’s still there”

So that was the issue after all. Still struggling to preserve the sanctity of an open secret. Habits die hard, and fear can be even harder to put down. Braga could understand her worry, but…

“You know Skandi was sent to accompany us, and you know he’s nothing less than open about his identity. In fact, it seems like at least half our companions are some kind of Celestial Exalted. Maybe we weren’t ever meant to return alive to Lookshy, but if we were… at least someone in authority must, correctly, deem Lunars and Solars a lesser evil than Deathknights. And if we weren’t, then that’s a crisis we can all deal with together.”

He frowned sympathetically, and offered his hand to Versi.

“I know it’s not ideal. I know it’s not the life I promised you in Lookshy. With the Mask of Winters on the march, though… we can’t have everything we want. I’m sorry for that, Versi, I really am. But a Deathlord on the move isn’t something we can ignore.”

“We can’t ignore Lookshy either!”

Versi almost snapped the words, brushing Braga’s hand away as she glared up at him. Why didn’t he ever listen to her at times like this? Breathing deeply, she tried to meet his gaze. Tried to calm down. He definitely wouldn’t listen if she got angry. “I don’t think the man who sent us on this mission was really working for the Legion. Even if he was though, it doesn’t matter. Lookshy are supporting the Cleansing. They’re about to be attacked by an army of Anathema. Kazei Fire Orchid has been left out here like this, trying to build an army out of mercenaries and random swordsmen.”

Those words hurt to say. The soldiers had been kind to her: from Unbroken Willow and his men, through everyone else in the larger camp. Versi flinched slightly, leaning upon Skycutter for a second, before looking back up at Braga. “They’re good people, but they’re not her people, right? If they were willing to trust other Exalted, she’d be back home. On the walls, commanding part of the garrison or something.”

The young Lunar paused briefly at that. The night was silent for what seemed like a small eternity. Eventually, Versino took a long breath, tensing slightly as she started to try and elaborate. “If they find out what I am, we’re both in danger. I know there’s a big battle coming, but that won’t make them protect us. They’ll either see us as a weakness, or people they can afford to lose.”

And you’re in the Legion now.

The few positive images of Lookshyans she’d formed in the short time she’d known them passed briefly through Versi’s mind. Gochei Rabir, Kharal Li, Zhou on the Frostwing, Fire Orchid in her tent… She can still remember the city, its blue jade towers gleaming in the early morning light. It was a beautiful place; strong, but calm, in a strange way. Versi had fallen all the more in love with the city with everything she’d seen of it.

But now, the young Exalt turned her head downwards, resting it in her hand. Her next words are quiet, slightly painful to say, even to Braga.

“We...could just run, couldn’t we?”

“No, I’m afraid we can’t.”

That, Braga was certain of. Even were it not for Braga’s oath to the Legion… even though he’d run from oaths before, and blood ties as well, in leaving the Realm… with the Mask of Winters on the march, nowhere in the Scavenger Lands was safe. Perhaps nowhere in the East.

“There’s nowhere to hide, Versi. There’s nowhere that’s safe. You’ve felt the strength of the Mask of Winters’ deathknights. If any force can stand against that strength, it’s Lookshy. No one else has the power. There’s danger in turning to Lookshy, to be sure. Maybe they will turn us away from their gates, maybe they will even risk wasting men on military action against Kazei Fire Orchid’s troops, even with an army of the dead on its way. But even with that possibility, their acceptance is our best chance at survival.”

He wasn’t sure how to drive that point home to Versino, how to really get through to her. Perhaps by way of analogy?

“You couldn’t seriously hope to run or hide from Zsofika’s hunt, could you? The omens of her coming are terrible, but to run only delays the inevitable. She’ll keep coming, faster than you can possibly fly, until you are dead, or she is defeated. It’s the same way with this Deathlord, the Mask of Winters. I met and spoke with his so-called ‘ambassador’ whilst I explored the wreck of the Frostwing, and I can tell you there will be no peace with him, not this time. The coming war will decide the fate of more than just the city of Lookshy itself.”

Silence. Versi was quiet, looking up at the moon, resting between her tree and Skycutter. She was looking away from Braga, it was hard for the Air Aspect to see her face… but when the young Lunar spoke again, her voice was as certain as his had been.

“No.”

Versi turned, gripping Skycutter’s haft tightly. More tightly than usual, leaning on the cannon for support.. She met Braga’s gaze before continuing to speak, voice fast and agitated. She was sure of herself, and not backing down. “There are other things we could do. We could try and find a boat heading to the Realm, we could go towards the Wyld. We could head north, make for Whitewall or could try and stick to the coast, avoid Mask’s army and go south towards Chiaroscuro. We could go anywhere but here, and we’d be fine!”

But Lookshy wouldn’t. The words hung in Versi’s mind unspoken, that image she’d conjured up of the city fallen still a shadow in some distant part of her. The young Lunar is silent at that thought. When she spoke, her voice was soft, slow, a touch uncertain… but filled with quiet anger at a city that hadn’t been all she’d hoped. “Lookshy sided with the Cleansing. Regardless of people like Chuzei Zhou, most of its inhabitants would kill both of us if they knew what I am, and how much you’ve helped me. They’re like… Immaculates. Like the Cleansing. We shouldn’t have to fight for them. We definitely shouldn’t have to die for them! Should we?”

Braga was shocked to hear Versi talking that way. Sweet, young Versi, so enamored with Creation… and now so quick to condemn Lookshy to die.

“Versi, they’re people like me!” he snapped, more harshly than intended, and then caught himself. Took a breath. When his voice came again it was softer, more even. “People like I was, I mean, before I met you. Afraid. Ignorant. Indoctrinated. Some of them are just hate all the way down, right to the soul, sure, but not all. Not most. I’d wager not even all that many. Most haven’t ever been given a real choice, a real alternative. And…”

He rubbed his palm into his forehead. Frustration was coming to him too easily, and he knew it, but that knowledge wasn’t enough to send it away. The hour was late, he was tired, and… and he expected better of Versi.

“And even if you don’t care about those people, Versino, even if you’d just as soon see every one of them drowned in Kimbery’s embrace, and that whole beautiful city trampled into dust… They’re the ones who have power here, Versi. They have armies… bigger armies than Fire Orchid, and better equipped. They have gunzosha. They have Dragon-Blooded. They have warstriders and airships. If they don’t beat the Mask of Winters, if they do all die? No one else is going to beat him. No one short of the Realm, in any case. And do you seriously think they’re coming to the Threshold to stop him here? When? After Lookshy falls? After the Confederation of Rivers? After Sijan? They didn’t come for Thorns, and that was one of their most loyal satrapies. I told you, this is bigger than Lookshy. This is a battle for the entire East. If we let the Mask of Winters go unchecked… no, we won’t be fine.”

He stared hard at Versi, almost as surprised at the vehemence of his response as he was her callousness, but his brush with Typhon still stood out clear in his mind, and his skin crawled with the thought of the deathknight’s touch… and his so-blatant lie.

“We won’t be fine at all.”

Versi had turned away during Braga’s speech, breathing quietly and slowly, looking out into the darkness. It almost looked like she’d stopped listening to him. After a few seconds of the silent night however, the young Lunar wheeled around, kicking up a flurry of dirt behind almost snarling as she glared up at her father.

“Stop talking like that!”

Her words are loud. Possibly too loud. Versi doesn’t care. Instead she moves forward, shaking her head emphatically. Braga couldn’t remember the little one ever looking this incensed before; her cheeks are flushed and her voice is fast, the words starting to blend into one another. “You’re not a hero. You’re not a warrior. You’re Sesus Denerid Braga! You’re a nice, kind man who knows a lot and helped me out when I needed it. And I’m just some stupid little girl who barely knows the first thing about Creation, and who keeps on trying to go where she doesn’t belong while the whole world keeps on being crazy!.”

And with that, the anger Versi had been trying to control became simply too much. The dark skinned Exalt turns and lunges towards the oak she’d lain against earlier. The mighty trunk creaked slightly as the girl’s closed first impacted against it. Versi remained there for a while, breathing slowly, trying as hard as she could to recollect herself. The anger that she felt wasn’t at Braga, this wasn’t his fault. Eventually she spoke, not turning around. “I know this fight’s important. I know about Thorns and what Mask of Winters did there. I know about Lookshy, and why it matters. Of course I want them to win the war. But this is not our fight. We can’t add anything, can’t help anyone. You’ve seen the Deathknights, you know what they can do. We’ll just get wounded and killed. And....”

The young Lunar finally paused, looking across at Braga with a strange sort of nervousness in those eyes, the words catching in her throat. The words are ones she’d said a thousand times before, but here and now they’re more difficult somehow. All she has are the images: the spy with the greataxe charging out of the shadows, Smile dancing through the ash and fire of the Frostwing, the Black Hand standing so imposing above it all. They were deadly, everything that the Immaculates were afraid of. Smile’s promise to her aside, no one else in the ranks of Thorns seemed likely to show mercy. And….

Versi turned around, her anger faded. There’s a tear in her eye, and she looks up to Braga, voice slightly hoarse. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Braga flinched at Versi’s unveiled anger. For all he knows her, trusts her, loves her as he would his own child, it was difficult to forget his fear entirely when faced with such a display. Her final words, however… well, he wasn’t much more certain how to deal with her fears than with her anger, but he understood it far better. He knew it because it was echoed in his own heart. He gathered her into his arms.

“I know, child. I don’t want to see you hurt any more either.” He chuckled darkly and added, with truth enough to belie his attempt to make a joke of it, “And I don’t want to be hurt! But… we are Exalted. By the grace of the gods, we have power to protect ourselves, and to protect others as well. Now... you’re a smart girl, and I’m an old man. We both know that power isn’t guaranteed to be enough. We know that we may fail and we may fall, and that’s scary. Dragons, that’s terrifying! But Versi…”

He drew back a step, keeping his hands on her shoulders, and met her eyes.

“...we have a chance to stand against what’s coming. That’s more than most can say. There are mortal fathers and mortal daughters by the score in Lookshy and throughout the rest of the River Province who could never dream of standing up to Deathknights and living to tell the tale… but we have! We’ve done it, and we can do it again… for them. In their stead. For the families that can’t protect themselves. That’s a damnably hard burden to shoulder, but… we’re Exalted.”

He smiled sincerely then, despite his fear, as confident in his words as he had been weeks before, in the streets of Lookshy.

“This is what we do.”

Versi sniffed, not meeting Braga’s gaze. Instead she looked downwards, towards the earth, trying as hard as she could not to cry. Breathing deeply, she closed her eyes, thinking back to that moment in the dining room. Her first sight of Creation, the embrace of Luna’s essence. The young girl shook her head, snorting grimly and smiling without humour. “We… we weren’t chosen for this, were we? Death, Oblivion, fighting and killing... “

Her Exaltation had made Versi a better fighter, but the idea that combat was all she was here for was truly depressing. The tears flowing now, the young sorceress looked up towards Braga. Her mentor, her father… the one who’d led her to this. “I thought we were going to be happy in Lookshy. That it’d be peaceful; I could study Creation’s history, you could actually live like you’re supposed to. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

With the last word, the little Lunar yanked herself away from Braga’s grip, back across the glen. She fell to her knees with the effort, sobbing slightly to herself. Everything had gone so wrong, and she couldn’t see any way to go back to how it was supposed to be. A part of her was in agreement with Braga, that going back to Lookshy at least left them potentially able to recapture that vision of how things could’ve been. That they should do that anyway for the sake of the people. But older voices, dissonant and base, laughing heartily to themselves, echoed in Versi’s mind.

Drying her tears on her sleeve, Versi looked up towards her father. Her voice is quiet again, as she shakes her head. “I’d like to be a hero. Everyone would. But I know how this story goes. It’s one demons tell each other, laughing about how humans think. The world gets bleaker for us, the threats get harsher. We try to help, try to reach above our abilities and accomplish impossible feats, all for stuff like valor and compassion...”

And those stories always ended in exactly the same way. The stage bloody, the mortals dead, and the audience laughing and clapping uproariously. Versino clenched her fists at the memory; that wouldn’t happen. No matter what. She took a breath before continuing, trying to stay calm. “Even for the Exalted, being in the right doesn’t really change anything. You’re trying to make it sound better, but we’re still at risk of the Cleansing getting to us, even before the Deathknights do.” Braga hadn’t argued that point, had he? Versi tilted her head, looking upward towards her father, hoping that he’d see reason. “Dying in that fight doesn’t help anyone. And we can’t avoid it anymore. If we go back to Lookshy, we could get killed before the war even starts properly. Why take that risk? Just for the possibility that we might be able to help against the Mask of Winters?”

Braga followed Versi’s retreat, but kept some distance, let her cry. She was so young, and the threat of death is hard to face at any age. Some stress, some grief, was understandable. Even expected. He tried to give her time. But in the face of such doubts…

“I know something of demons myself, Versino,” he says, “and something of humanity. I can tell you this with certainty: Demons lie. You have seen them in their homes, among their own kind, and you have seen them lying to themselves. They are nasty, petty creatures, and they will do all they can to make themselves seem grand and make humanity seem lowly in comparison, but they are but kings of dungheaps, lords of flies. What majesty they still have is woven out of the scraps our ancestors misguidedly left them. You see, when it came down to it, humanity versus those shards of Primordial souls, the Exalted against the very creators of the world… we won.”

He brushed off a spot and sat down beside the kneeling Lunar girl, bending to trace pictures in the dirt, images passed down out of dreams and out of legends, predating history itself.

“You have dwelt among the twisted streets of Malfeas, and you have crossed the silver sands of Cecelyne. Try to imagine them as they were, they and all their fellows and all their collective souls and servants. Imagine the whole of Hell unbent, unbroken, every spirit among them walking or crawling or swimming or flying across the face of Creation as its makers, as its masters. Imagine how much taller than the Mask of Winters the pillar that became Qaf must have stood! Imagine how much fiercer the charge of that which became Isidoros! And yet we stood. And yet we fought. And yet we won. Never count out the Exalted, child. Our stories don’t end the way demons wish they would.”

He sat back, brushed off his hands, and smiled.

“So that’s the Mask of Winters sorted. Now, I won’t pretend the Cleansing isn’t a threat. But think how much smaller they are than all the other threats we face. Have faced. Will face. And remember, they’re the ones afraid of you. If they do come after us, they know down deep in their hearts that you’re stronger than them, that you’re faster than them. If it does come to that, don’t give them the chance to think any different. And we’ll get through this. We’ll have our days of peace. All this is just a brief, unpleasant detour along the road.”

Versi blinked, trying to follow Braga’s conversation. She was normally good with High Realm, but she was tired and his story had some mildly complex descriptives in it,but she got the general idea. And it was not reassuring her. As he drew to an end, the little warrior raised a tired hand, shaking her head. “Stop it. Just… stop.”

The messy haired Lunar took a deep breath, placing her palm briefly to her forehead. When she spoke though, it was like a river finally breaking through a dam. A slow trickle of words intensifying to a burst of frenzy at this intractable, obstinate man. “You’ve read about the Exalted of the past. I’ve heard about them. But we’re not them. We’re not up to where they were yet, and there’s no shame in admitting that. We aren’t mountain breakers or world enders. We’re just people who could follow in their footsteps one day. If we’re cut, we bleed. If we fight, we die. And everything that could’ve been gets thrown away.”

Her mind wandered to their days walking through the River Province: everything so green and peaceful. Even the Cleansing seemed less important back then. Her focus had always been on the wonder of Creation; how beautiful everything was, and how much more there was to see. Shining cities, ancient libraries, magnificent palaces.

All those wonders, all those happy days…all could be thrown away if they kept doing this, a little voice of doubt kept whispering into her ear. if they die, what comes after? The Underworld? New life? Or a return to Malfeas for her. Versi tensed just thinking of that little possibility. She’d wanted to see Creation, enjoy it, alongside the wise and kind man who’d saved her from death. The man she owed everything to. But now he seemed… different. Lookshy and the Legions had gotten to him in a way House Sesus never had. He was so sure everything was going to be ok, that fighting like this was what was right for him.

Versino, on her own, would’ve dared a thousand deaths in Lookshy. As bad as her injury had been, she knew enough of flesh and pain to count herself lucky it hadn’t been worse. You never got anything in Creation or Malfeas without taking risks. But her staying in Lookshy was gambling with more than just her life. It risked Braga too, a man worth more than any other she'd ever met, and for what? For his oath? His fellow Dragon Blooded, who were all too willing to back the Cleansing? For a chance to fight the Mask and die heroically?

He’d do it too. The voice whispered from somewhere in the back of her mind, making Versi’s wings feel a sudden chill at the realization. He’d sacrifice himself for anyone who needed it. That’s the kind of person he is. You know that, don’t you?.And that was before he joined a Dragon Blooded legion

Versino was starting to feel queasy. The young Lunar’s pale eyes were a study in conflicts as she looked up towards her mentor, anger, sorrow, fear and frustration all met in equal measure. When she spoke, the words were hushed, under her breath, almost forced out. Each one seemingly made the dark skinned traveller shake a little, her wings fluttering in the night breeze. “You’re smarter than this, Braga. I know you’re smarter than this. Why won’t you listen?”

Braga looked away from Versi, stung by her words. He was smart enough to have an idea of Lookshy’s odds, and he was smart enough to recognize that they weren’t great. Versi didn’t want him to sugarcoat that… but she also refused to accept it, and that hurt. While yet mortal, she had been willing to cross the silver sands of Cecelyne for her own benefit, but now, empowered by Luna’s favor, she couldn’t bring herself to stand against the Mask of Winters for the sake of others. Was that the true measure of her character? He expected better of her…

...but, no, he could not fault her for selfishness. She was Chosen of Luna, surely, and phenomenally strong, but she was still so young… and, further, her early education had been at the feet of demons; that she might have picked up some of their baser traits in the process was, while regrettable, fully understandable. He wished he could give her more time to grow, to learn. She truly ought to have time to hear stories of heroes (proper ones, not twisted by demonic bias) before being asked to become one herself. She ought to have time to live before being asked to risk her life.

But there was no time.

He hated that fact, but his emotions could do nothing to alter the reality of it. Every single thing that had happened to her and to him since their arrival in Lookshy seemed to serve as further proof that he could shield her from her fate no longer. For all he might wish otherwise, Creation had no easy childhood in store for her.

“I’m smart enough to know that Lookshy may fall, yes,” he says at last, in an even, patient tone, “And I know that might even be the most likely outcome. And I know that we may die in its defense, even if Lookshy itself manages to stand. But I’m also smart enough to know that if we believe in our hearts that it will fall, and if we believe in our hearts that we will die, then that’s just what will happen, and there won’t be any hope of changing it. The Mask of Winters wants us to believe that we can’t stand against him. The enemies of Creation always want us to believe we can’t win, that it’s futile to fight… but the reason they put so much effort into trying to convince us to give up is that they know we can win. Maybe it’s not probable, but, right up until the moment we lose faith in ourselves, it is possible.”

He pointed again at the simple pictures he had drawn in the dirt, and he smiled.

“The Exalted of the past… they didn’t know they could break mountains until they did so. They didn’t know that the Primordials could fall until they slew one. They had no prior generations to look up to, no sense of where the limits of their power might fall. But they strove for greatness, and greatness is exactly what they achieved. We certainly won’t ever match their feats if we never dare to try, if we constantly tell ourselves that we’re too small and too weak. We ought to know better! We ought to know that we absolutely are capable of matching their feats, because, after all, they achieved them, and they had the same Exaltations burning in their souls that we do in ours. They probably felt just as small and scared as we do, at the time, but still they fought, and still they won. We can do that, too. That’s what I’m smart enough to know.”

He softened his expression, showing Versi a sympathetic frown.

“This still isn’t the life I’d choose, of course, if circumstances were better. And I still don’t want to choose it for you, even now. But… there is a calling that comes with our power. We aren’t meant for quiet lives. We have so much more to give to the world, and Creation needs that aid. Without the Chosen, there would be precious little standing between mankind and the dark. Too little. So… I am going to do my part. I’m sorry, Versi, but I can do no less.”

It’s hard to read the look in the young Lunar’s eyes at those words. Throughout Braga’s speech, the small sorceress simply sat there, looking up at him, her face empty. Inside, however, her heart was twisting as she truly started to comprehend the issue with her Father’s stance here..

He does understand.

Braga knows exactly what he’s doing by staying with Lookshy, and has accepted it. He honestly and sincerely believes that it is his duty as a Chosen of the Dragons to fight against the enemies of Creation, despite having no combat training and having spent his life up to this point as a scholar and a sage. There was nothing she could say that would change his mind about this, no matter how hard she tried. Braga’s mind was made up, and he wouldn’t listen to her..

But why should he? After all, this was in his nature, wasn’t it? Braga was the same man who once rescued a young girl without even knowing her name, throwing everything in his life away just for the sake of a stranger. Of course he’d be willing to risk himself for something like this, the fight against some great evil of the world. Sesus Denerid Braga was a good man, a man who cared about others, and who would risk danger for their sake.

But that was only part of what Versi loved about him. He was her father, her companion, her friend and mentor. He’d saved her life, taught her all she knew about the Creation of today and why things mattered. He’d stood with her all this time, endured all her failings, pushed her onward towards success, and had always been kind to her. Braga was her lifeline, her inspiration, her one true point of contact with the world, and had been ever since she’d arrived from Malfeas.

And now, he was willing to throw his life away. In a war that had nothing to do with him, or his real home. And leave Versi all alone in this dark, bitter, stupid mockery of a Creation!

Finally, as the older Exalt’s words drew to a close, something snapped in the young Lunar’s heart. Standing tall, wings flared and injury forgotten, she snarled up at Braga. “Fine! Fine! Be a hero, stay with the Legion, go and die trying to do the right thing! It’s what you want, why should I stop you?” Versi’s mouth twisted into a sneer as she continued, wrath shifting into bitterness and scorn “It’s what you’re supposed to do, right? What your family wanted for you? I’m sure when they hear the news, they’ll build a little statue of you and talk about what a good boy you turned out to be in the end.”

The young Lunar paused at that, staring straight up at Braga, her wrath still a palpable force. A silver spark seemed to dance across her brow, the wind intensified and ruffled the scarlet feathers of her wings. Finally though, Versi drew back, turning to the side and walking away. She doesn’t look back at her errant father as she called out behind her, no longer concerned about being discovered. “It’s late. I’m tired, and this is going nowhere. Let’s head back to bed.”

Braga came to his feet with uncharacteristic clumsiness, almost staggering under the impact of Versi’s scorn. Such aggression, such spite… but, in the midst of it, a clue. Perhaps the clue. Her worry… was on his behalf? That last outburst… while the words were hurtful, she was attacking him for risking his life, not for risking hers. While he stood there, outwardly dumbstruck, with her glaring at him, his thoughts were awhirl, and the picture that began to form in his mind helped dim his fears.

The fierceness of Versi’s temper was still abundantly distressing, but its root cause suddenly seemed more understandable, less uncharacteristic. In a counterintuitive way it was almost heartwarming that she would be so concerned on his behalf. He couldn’t be entirely relieved, however, for he knew her resignation was no real end to her worries. He would have to find some other way to put her mind at ease…

...and he had no idea how to even begin to do that, beyond what he had already tried, and failed with. So no, there would be no true relief for either of them, but neither did they have the strength to argue any further. And so they would sleep.

He trudged along behind her, back to camp.

[Aevylmar]

The Chimera moves to strike, and the Wolf's shield races up to deflect the blow. He has to hold out. That's it. If he can stall for long enough, his pack will escape...

Hoping for a stunt, channeling Compassion for +4, and throwing 4 dice into this. Base DV 9, hoping for more.

If the defense is a success, Skandi will want to take move actions this tick.

[roll0]

Stat Block to Copy-Post

All buffs are factored in.
Boosts: Deadly Beastman Form (+1 all physical attributes, heal a Bashing and a Lethal each round, +4L/4B soak, +4 yards/tick of move, +2 hearing), Relentless Lunar Fury (+1 sux, piercing, +3L damage, attacks do not have action penalties)
Penalties: None.

Attack Pools
Moonwrath - Speed 5, Accuracy 15 / 17, Damage 14L / 2, Rate 2
Axe - Speed 5, Accuracy 12 / 14, Damage 11L, Rate 2
Shieldbash - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 , Damage 8B, Rate 1
Dagger - Speed 4, Accuracy 13 / 15, Damage 7L, Rate 3
Iron Boot - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 / 13, Damage 12B, Rate 2
Note: (Fierce blows are currently off.)

Defense Pools
Moonwrath - 6 / 7
Axe - 5 / 6
Shield - 8 / 9
Dodge - 4

Essence: 3
Personal: 22/23
Peripherial: 0/52
Willpower: 6/10
Committed: 19

Getting Hit
Soak: 17L / 19B
Natural: 7L/10B
Hardness: 8L / 8B
Health Levels: *0/1/1/1/1/1/*1/1/1/2/2/4

... And after that he starts running. He's not running as fast as he possibly could, but he moves very quickly; the Wolf is agile under the light of the full moon. He saw which direction the arrow came from, he can hear the crack of grass under the Abyssal's feet, smell his dead blood.

That's his target. Not the chimera, the abyssal. Not the hound, the hunter.

Skandi is starting moving on the tick the Chimera attacked on. He can't let it attack him, but so long as the Chimera pursues him, he won't let it get too much of a lead - he has no intention of letting it lose track of him. How does it respond to his movement, tick-by-tick?

[industrious]

Chimera

As Skandi turns towards the deathknight, rushing forward to close the distance, the Chimera nips at his heels, howling through the night.

[Aevylmar]

As long as the Chimera pursues, the Wolf keeps running. It can tell by the sounds of destruction in the forest behind it that it has not lost its pursuer.

There are two hunts, now, just as in the days when it stalked the northern snows for the children of the dragon. The Wolf hunts and is hunted.

There is a trail of blood on the ground as it flees, blood from a wounded limb. Wounded prey is always irresistible. And there is the smell of weakness from the poison - every few moments the Wolf will slow, just a fraction of a second, as a sign that it is flagging. Then it will 'muster all its spirit' and return to full speed, the Chimera chasing after it as fast as it can.

Skandi's action is, in fact, just to Dash, speeding up as much as possible. Also reflexively regenerating, of course. Roll vs poison:

[roll0]

So long as the Chimera continues to pursue him, he'll just continue to run as fast as he can towards the archer.

At this point (Tick 17), he's been walking since Tick 13 at a speed of 20 yards a tick (dex of 6 + mutations 4 x2 for anima) for a total of 80 yards. I'm assuming the Chimera is following behind at a speed of 12 y/t (dex 6 x2 for anima) for a total of 48 yards. He's now speeding up to 32 y/t; if the Chimera wants to dash, it'll only speed up to 24 y/t.

If there was a misunderstanding somewhere and I was wrong about the Chimera's actions, or it is moving at a speed of 20 y/t or higher, Skandi won't dash and will need to take an actual action. But unless that's the case, he's buying time.

Stat Block to Copy-Post

All buffs are factored in.
Boosts: Deadly Beastman Form (+1 all physical attributes, heal a Bashing and a Lethal each round, +4L/4B soak, +4 yards/tick of move, +2 hearing), Relentless Lunar Fury (+1 sux, piercing, +3L damage, attacks do not have action penalties)
Penalties: None.

Attack Pools
Moonwrath - Speed 5, Accuracy 15 / 17, Damage 14L / 2, Rate 2
Axe - Speed 5, Accuracy 12 / 14, Damage 11L, Rate 2
Shieldbash - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 , Damage 8B, Rate 1
Dagger - Speed 4, Accuracy 13 / 15, Damage 7L, Rate 3
Iron Boot - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 / 13, Damage 12B, Rate 2
Note: (Fierce blows are currently off.)

Defense Pools
Moonwrath - 6 / 7
Axe - 5 / 6
Shield - 8 / 9
Dodge - 4

Essence: 3
Personal: 22/23
Peripherial: 2/52
Willpower: 6/10
Committed: 19

Getting Hit
Soak: 17L / 19B
Natural: 7L/10B
Hardness: 8L / 8B
Health Levels: *0/1/1/1/1/*1/1/1/1/2/2/4

[Ascension]

The Ancient Battlefield

Braga no more wants to distrust Tepet Xet than any of the others do, but for Versino's safety...

"Those arguments were made before the Wyld Hunt arrived. You must understand..."

But no, the Chuzei won't understand. He, naturally, trusts his wife, and she, in turn, trusts Tepet Xet with her very life, for whatever reason.

"Be careful," he begs of his daughter. "If need be, you fly straight up. Even an Air Aspect can only follow you so far."

Then he tries to do as requested... no, as ordered. He's meant to be a military man now, and Zhou is his superior. Following his suggestions isn't meant to be optional.

Turning back toward the ghosts (if ghosts they be) gives the scholar another little thrill of wonder. He really would love to study this phenomenon in detail under any better circumstances, without such threats hanging over his head. As is... well, his examination will have to be brief.

He asks his Recorder of Everlasting Glories to play back what Ireva said about what happened, now truly considering her words. He begins to muse out loud in response.

"Calling ghosts by blood sacrifice... you can certainly do that from a battlefield, but it's more difficult if you don't call the ghost by name... more difficult if the ghost has been long dead... it ought to take more time... and, really, you ought not to be able to call so many with a single summons, unless... this doesn't have the look of a shadowland, or the feel of one. And even in a shadowland, to call an army, that would require... failure to a degree I can hardly imagine, actually. Thaumaturgy is meant to summon specific ghosts... if others come, it's usually because they're hungry for the summoner's blood. But these ghosts are yet proud soldiers..."

He scrunches his face up in concentration and allows a deep portion of his mind to tap aspects of Mela he has had little reason to invoke in recent days: the stillness of calm air, the crystalline solidity of ice, the purity of fresh-fallen snow, the quiet eye around which the storms of his anima revolve. In that space he can set aside his fears. In that space, in that stillness, he can truly think.

"Immaculate Faith not perfect proof against the formation of ghosts," he murmurs, the words barely carrying beyond his lips, as if borne on a slight breeze from someplace very far away. "The ghost hypothesis shouldn't be discounted... although they are armed, and Immaculate ghosts are generally impoverished, without grave goods... but grave goods would evaporate under the Sun's light in any case; if they are ghosts, those arms and armor must be integral to their corpus? But that's sensible, for soldiers. In any case, that's a tangent, I was trying to get at the fact that other angles should be considered as well..."

A thought comes to him, one that hadn't immediately occurred to him, given his upbringing. It's only one of many possibilities awhirl in his mind, but it seems more likely than most. His eyes snap open again, and he turns to Ireva.

"You said you 'spoke of Lookshy's mortal danger' and offered blood. Ghosts may be summoned by entreaty, yes, but they're not the only sort of spirit which can answer... prayer. What did you say, Karal Ireva? Exact words, if possible. I should very much like to know who might have heard you."

This may go a bit too far, but I figure if Braga's on the wrong course and rolls well, then I can have him veer off onto a different hypothesis next post, and if Braga's on the wrong course and rolls poorly... then he can stay on the wrong course. And even if he's in the right ballpark but rolls poorly, he's not nailed down any specifics yet.

Throwing a max Occult Excellency on this from personal essence, but I'm not going to subtract from my totals on my character sheet unless we end up getting into an actual fight here, since with Braga's hearthstones he'd have had more than enough time to recover to full by the Chimera scene.

I don't believe any of my Occult specialties would apply, but the Art of Warding and Exorcism is an edge case, so I'll roll those dice (and the Excellency dice that could accompany them) as separate rolls.

Int+Occult+Excellency:
[roll0]

Art of Warding and Exorcism:
[roll1]
Specialty-linked Excellency Dice:
[roll2]

Potential Stunt:
[roll3]

[Ifni]

Ireva closes her eyes, trying to remember. "I said... that Lookshy had been born in this place, and that its fate rested in the balance. I can't remember my exact words, though. Zhou might...?" She opens her eyes, and glances inquiringly at her husband. "Events were... moving rather quickly, keeping everything clear in my mind wasn't my first priority."

She turns back to Braga. "But when I actually spilled blood -" Her gaze turns to Fire Orchid. "I used your jian, Kazei, and if that was inappropriate you have my apology, but it seemed like it might resonate with the place. And I named the Five Pillars." She smiles briefly. "It makes it easier to remember, when five words said everything."

The Solar pauses, and her glance flickers to Fire Orchid, to Xet, to Versi - and back to Braga.

"The Pillars are the heart of the Lookshyan interpretation of the Immaculate Faith," she continues quietly, "as my husband explained it to me. Honor. Loyalty. Prowess. Compassion. And Resolve." Each word is soft but clear, offered to the silence like something precious, like something sacred.

After a moment Ireva clears her throat. "I don't know if this could matter, but as I spoke I focused my mind, as well as speaking the words." Her smile flickers momentarily, a brighter glimmer in the white-gold haze of light. "For Honor, my honor, laid on my oath to Lookshy. For Loyalty," she smiles warmly at Zhou, "and Prowess," a nod of genuine respect to Fire Orchid, "my inspirations were easy." Her voice slows, her expression growing more solemn, as she looks again at the gold-lit silhouettes and is quiet for a moment. "Compassion was a... call to arms, I suppose. A plea for strength against Oblivion. And Resolve..." She looks down, at the great golden blade of her sword, and sets her hands more securely on its hilt. "A promise, to do what had to be done."

"You are right about shadowlands, as best as I know," she adds rather abruptly, looking up as if to change the subject. "We offered blood in Thorns to feed the ghosts, as propitiation and to share strength, but there was never anything like... this." Ireva's gaze once more turns to the ranks of shining forms, and she swallows, and falls silent. Not what she had first guessed, perhaps, but still a blessing? But she is no priest or preacher to entreat the gods, no chanting spirit-caller, no leader of legions - ghostly or otherwise.

And yet there they stand.

[Inspector Valin]

Versi sighed, shaking her head at Braga's comment. She wasn't running from this, injury or no. The young Lunar has kept close behind Tepet Xet throughout the conversation thus far, wings gently flapping in the breeze. Skycutter rested on her shoulder, pointed straight at the Dynast's back. Versi didn't hate Xet, and a part of the young Lunar felt guilty for this, remembering that night on the Frostwing when the martial artist had helped her maintain her disguise, but trusting the erstwhile Cleansing agent seemed unwise in the extreme. They didn't know who she was, who she worked for, or what she was doing as part of this whole expedition. Whatever she was, an essence cannon at her back would hopefully make any kind of double cross unlikely. With her focus on the known risk, Versi barely noticed the shining legion just beyond their location. Braga would deal with it, she had her own job to focus on.

Still, Zhou's final remark makes the young Chosen blink. For the first time truly letting her attention waver from Xet, Versi glanced around the group, honestly curious. "Why does belief matter? Do people have to believe that they'll become ghosts... in order to become ghosts?" It seemed strange to the young Exalt, but the question was sincere. The concept of ghosts was still something she didn't truly understand: she knew what they were, but not how they formed or tied into the cycle of reincarnation. She doubted these Ghosts were the result of some soul compact binding them after death. Things work differently in Creation

[industrious]

Utam

Kharal Fire Orchid snorts at Ireva's welcome to Xet, but doesn't press the issue.

Isa notices that the resonance of the apparition's essence has more in common with the surrounding area than the Underworld, while Braga's keen mind quickly determines what the true cause of the ghostly figures is.


This spot was already suffused with essence due to the historical significance of the place. The result of Fire Orchid and Ireva's prayers wasn't to summon ghosts, but rather to catalyze the transformation of the area into a (low-level) demense; the figures are but a feature of the place, and are mindless, soulless, and can no more leave the area than a tree.

If an appropriate manse were to be build here, a statue or monument of some sort, it would almost certainly produce a Memorial Stone.

[The_Snark]

"These aren't ghosts," Tepet Xet says with quiet confidence, ignoring the lingering contention over whether she can be trusted. She dismounts her horse, stepping closer. The melodies of Essence resonate through the clearing, blending euphoniously with the hum of the landscape. Even the gentlest of restless spirits would be a dirge, mournful notes a dolorous stain upon the living songs of Creation. "Look at them. They belong here, and this is no shadowland. Fair or foul, ghosts don't fit into the living world like that."

[Ifni]

Utam

Thank you, Fire Orchid. Ireva doesn't breathe a sigh of relief, but a little more tension goes out of her, another edge of worry softening away. She hadn't wanted a fight with the Kazei, not here, but she had needed Isa to see this, and it's always easier to ask forgiveness than permission.

At Isa's words she frowns a little. Some of the ghosts of Thorns had been cruel, or greedy, but some... they had comforted two children in the darkness. They had been part of the Resistance, if even more quietly than its living members. They had led the White Rose to weapons she alone could bear, in the memory of freedom and the hope of a sunlit future.

It feels... jarring, to think that those spirits might find no place they fit in that future; that the stories they told were of a world that could never be theirs again. She knows what the Immaculate Order teaches about ancestor-worship, but still... an advantage of shadowlands?

But she doesn't speak up. What Isa - Xet - is saying doesn't feel wrong, and she is certainly no expert in the occult. She'd suspected these weren't ordinary ghosts anyway, when they rose so quickly and then asked nothing in exchange, and more so when they didn't respond to her words - ghosts she knew would have reacted somehow, even if it was to condemn her for presumption.

Well, asking was a reasonable thing to do, anyway. You learned something. And if it had gone the other way, not asking would have been disrespectful, taking the support of the ancient dead for granted. This way... well, maybe you looked a fool, but it's hardly the first time for that, and you didn't slight anyone who deserved better. Anyway, Zhou was the only witness. She does feel a small flicker of mingled embarrassment and relief, that Fire Orchid had still been unconscious at that point.

"Do you know what they are, then?" she asks softly, looking to both Xet and Braga.

I feel that the surviving fragments of the Immaculate faith in post-invasion Thorns probably emphasized the bits about resisting the Anathema considerably more than the anti-ancestor-worship provisions. I think... young Ireva probably felt that while everyone should pass on to Lethe for the good of their own soul (walking the path of enlightenment), it was a praiseworthy sacrifice to remain behind temporarily to try to keep fighting for the Greater Good (i.e. Resist The Anathema And Do Not Fall Into Despair). And staying came with tremendous risks, too, given the existence of soulsteel.

EDIT: After thinking about this a bit more... I don't think she's actually had to confront this before, but while what I said in the previous paragraph is probably what she'd say her position is - and she doesn't think that's heretical even in the Immaculate doctrines, since staying to fight the Anathema isn't willfully defying the cycle of reincarnation, it's risking oneself to try to save others' souls - I think Ireva may have some emotional difficulty with the obvious corollary that once Thorns is freed, all those ghosts absolutely should pass directly into Lethe. She has trouble letting go of people she cares about, and it also feels... ungrateful, maybe?

[Inspector Valin]

A Growing Bond I: (Earlier on the march towards Lookshy)
“Surprise!”

The cheap bowl is waved in front of her face, triggering Versino’s ambush instincts until the smell of well-cooked food reaches her nose and the figure holding the bowl follows it into her line of sight.

“It’s a little late, but I did promise you a meal.” Shard says. She’s holding herself differently now: not the apologetic shrink of her crafter persona or the sprawling limbs of a drunken woman, but expansive in the same manner as an expensive perfume. She carefully drops the dish into Versi’s lap, and the Lunar can see as well as smell the brisk scent of seafood. Given their current location, someone has probably been robbed.

The crafter-slash-spy sits down, keeping a space clear for Versi. “I haven’t had much practice cooking Blessed Isle style,” She apologizes, “more like Scavenger-Land Isle knockoffs style. But I hope you still like it. It’s something that your father might have eaten, back home.”

A few sniffs, eyes closed, were enough for Versino. The young Lunar almost leaps on the bowl once offered, twirling the wooden chopsticks as she swiftly manoeuvred the food into her mouth. Whatever manners the young Dynast had been taught, culinary were obviously not included..She eat like a hungry wolf, not sure when the next meal was going to come. Eventually, the young Lunar looked up, grinning wide. “It’s delicious! I… don’t know that much about food, but I know this tastes good. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted something quite like this before.” Not as chewy as most meat, and the texture was different... Versi beamed at Shard, still happily scoffing away. She was obviously enjoying herself.

“I’m giving the Chuzei’s wife a couple of cooking lessons in preparation for meeting her new in-laws.” Jade says, picking a slice of fish out for herself with her hands. The slippery snack is juggled between her hands until she gets a good grip on it and tosses it into her mouth. “You’d be perfectly mpfh welcome to join. What really makes that dish is the lemon, but you can’t find one of those in an army camp without doing something tremendous for it. Maybe when we’re back in lookshy…”

The crafter quickly checks over Versi’s shoulder to make sure that the Lunar’s Essence cannon is firmly out of reach, and then subtly establishes an escape route and ensures that the background noise is enough to hide her confession from prying ears.

“Anyway, Versi…” She swallows. “I’m a little worried about you. As I’ve mentioned to the rest of our group, I’m a spy for Lookshy and something of a liar. More specifically, I was told to spy on you and your father.”

“Now…” The woman winces an apology. “...given the past few days, I don’t quite trust my ostensible superior, so it seems better for Lookshy and us in specific to come clean. But did the… Justicar captain give any indication of his intentions towards you when you spoke with him?”

So, push the bowl up into Versi’s face, jump over the crates, scatter slippery fruit behind herself, duck around a corner and assume a disguise… Jade’s fingers itch, waiting to see if Versi will reach for her weapon or take the news with equanimity. Essence Cannon blasts would be difficult to explain away in the middle of an army camp, but not impossible.

Versi’s actual reaction is oddly calm. She pauses at the admission, looking Jade up and down once briefly, before returning to her meal, grin faded a little but still vaguely present. She seemed to be enjoying the food if nothing else. At the question though, the young Lunar simply placed her bowl to the ground, closing her eyes and humming briefly before opening them and looking back at Shard. “Not really. He seemed friendly enough though. He’s the one who persuaded the Academy to let me borrow Devon’s book. He was a little cold at first, but I think he was just being formal.” The important information given, Versi yanked up her bowl once again and begun munching on seafood. Her voice grew just a touch bitter as she continued to ponder the mysterious Justicar. “I didn’t even find out this was a mission until Father told me later. He didn’t say a lot to me.”

Jade relaxes, soothing her frayed nerves until she is no longer in fight-or-flight mode and the little Lunar seems like Versi to her again, instead of a distant relative of the fearsome Skandi the Wolf. “You’re taking this rather well.” She comments cheerfully. “Normally, I would have at least one person try to hold a blade to my throat by now. Rest assured, my sympathies are entirely with you when it comes to that man withholding information. Hmph.” She pouts briefly at some internal memory, and then shrugs.

There’s silence for a moment as Jade considers Versi’s reaction, as calm as the moon and nonchalant as discussing weather. It intrigues her, what this girl of little over ten years as been through to remain so calm in the face of both Deathknights and intrigue, and yet the explanations she can imagine for that tend to wilt in the face of her father’s personality. Presumably, he was not there for the earliest years of her life, and Jade feels a little pang of jealous sympathy.

“Have you had experience with this sort of thing before?” She asks. “The only other person quite as calm as you was dear Xet, and she is a professional paranoid.” Jade quickly takes the opportunity to steal another slice of fish. “Perhaps if we two spies put our heads together over what the Justicar said to both of us, we can figure out why he’s so interested in you. I’d prefer to know if he’s planning something…” She waves a hand. “...rash.”

Versi started to smile a little at Jade’s words. She shook her head. “I don’t really know much about intrigue, but I already knew you were a spy. It’s not a shock.” She hadn’t known the older woman was sun chosen specifically… but ultimately, that didn’t mean much. There was no Solar Nation any more, Shard could be working for anyone. Shrugging, the young Lunar gestured across the camp. “Xet’s a spy too, I think, though I’m not sure of more than that. I don’t think she’s with the Cleansing. If I had to guess, she’s working for the Justicar.”

She tilted her head slightly, looking at Shard inquisitively. “Like you?”

Versi just sat there, looking at her for an uncomfortable second, before turning back to her food. She seemed content without an answer. “Anyway, I really didn’t think he had anything in mind for me. He just asked me questions about what’d happened at the Hall of Records, and told me to accompany Father. I… felt more like I was there because I had to be. I’d been at the hall and everything. Not because he wanted to talk to me specifically.”

The conwoman sighs. “Please don’t tell me the Justicar told you I was a spy. With all the ‘help’ he’s offered, that would just be the last straw. Xet dearest could also be working for him, with the way he’s sharing information, but…” She frowns. “Something to consider.”

This time, Shard waits until Versi does her next inquisitive look - the odd, slightly-too-long stares - and meets it with a faint smile. “Is something on your mind?” She asks, and grins down at her own appearance. Even without the collar of Dawn’s Light to keep the dirt off, it’s still rather fetching. Care has been put into it.

“Is it my look?” She teases. “I never did take you clothes shopping like I said I would. We could try that here. Seeing what fine fashion we could scrounge from an army camp ought to be… amusing, I’d say.”

For some reason the suggestion makes Versi’s eyes go wide. The young girl is struck dumb briefly, looking out over the campsite, lost in thought. Finally though, she spoke, seemingly holding back a tear in her eye. “I lost my tunic.”

She makes it sound like she just lost a talent of jade. The young girl chuckled a little, recognizing for once how odd her words seemed. She shook her head at the older woman. “It… doesn’t sound like much, but for a long time, that was the one thing I really owned. The one thing that was mine, no matter what. It kept me warm in the darkness, and through the desert. It was kinda a part of me. And Smile pretty much ruined it. Now it’s all cut and frayed and… bloody.”

Versino shivered at the thought. She’d endured a lot, but somehow, the thought of her tunic like that resonated with her. For the moment, she had stowed it in her pack, out of sight. The young Lunar sat there, lost in her memories for a while. Finally though, she looked back to Shard, chuckling ruefully and nodding. “I should probably find something else to wear other than my armour, you’re right. Sorry. I… haven’t really been thinking straight these last few days.”

Jade smiles to herself. The feeling is a familiar one to her, from back before the little girl became the conwoman she was now, and it was amazing how much sentimental value a useless little trinket could have over the finest jewels in the land. What was needed right now was sympathy, and retail therapy.

She places a reassuring hand on Versi’s back. “I understand.” She says, shifting her wrist so the circle of solid gold around it comes into view. “I used to have a bracelet of black stones, the closest thing to jewelry I owned back then. Even though I lost it after I found far prettier things...” She examines her reflection in the thing a moment before shifting back to the present “... losing it still hurt.”

She shifts her grip and pulls Versi up with her as she stands up, taking away the finished bowl with her other hand. The aim is speed, to whirl the girl away into other thoughts and away from the depressive moods. “So I shopped until I felt better.” She finishes briskly, taking her hand away. ”Nothing like glitter. So, what sort of look are you aiming for? Practical? Pretty? Proper? Something that can survive a desert? You are going to have to tell me the story behind that one - it sounds impressive.”

“It was how I Exalted.” Versi grinned at the last, her blacker mood dispelled by the memory. Even the pain that’s plagued her these last few days seems to have gone from her. She kneels down to pick up her pack, before alighting and meeting Jade’s gaze. “Five days, and five nights, with nothing but a barrel of bonewine and my tunic. I could barely stand by the end of it, but I got out...” The little Lunar snorted, wincing slightly at the memory. “And walked straight into a Dynast party, with my forehead glowing bright silver. I think that counts as a social faux pas.”

Chuckling a little at the recollection of the Dynasts' collective faces, the young Lunar looking at Shard a second time. Somehow the craftswoman always looked wonderful, whatever she wore. Versi blushed a little, looking away before speaking further. “Thank you, but I… don’t really know much about clothes. Like I said, that tunic’s all I’ve ever had. I don’t really know what sort of clothes are practical, or what would look nice if you wore it. I’ve just… never had to think about that.”

She trailed off: it was weird to think about it now. Still, Shard’s words have set some gears turning in Versi’s head. Slowly, she looks back towards the Solar, smiling slightly sheepishly. “I’ve seen some amazingly wonderful dresses though. I used to live in an opera house, and I loved the dancers’ costumes. I used to sneak backstage to get a better look at them. They were pretty, but elegant, made of all sorts of materials I didn’t know. There was one gown, white silk with silver embroidery, that would murmur as you moved in it.” The young girl sighed wistfully, thinking back to a time before all of this. A time when she’d never had to fight or risk dying, so long as she did what she was told, and when she could see one of the most beautiful sights in Malfeas every day. “You could dance like Adorjan across the stage in that thing. Swift, beautiful and deadly. It was wonderful. ”

In response to Versi’s thoughts, Shard has already pulled out a piece of parchment and is sketching designs on it with a piece of charcoal. The fingers move, not catching the actual clothes the Lunar described - there’s too little detail for that - but the thought of them, and how they might be made using materials not too hard to find in the middle of an army camp.

“I’ll have to tell you about the time I glowed gold in the middle of a Dynastic party.” She says offhand, focused on her art. “That’s a story that proves the Incarne have a poor sense of humour. Now, let’s see-”

She hands over the piece of paper. Dresses drift past Versi’s eyes, operatic costumes from the Realm, fine fancies of fierce warriors, and a couple of elegant flowery pieces of soft silk should the girl’s fancy take her that way. “Now, let me first start with a quick point, dear - you don’t have to choose merely one design.” Shard smiles. “It can be a bit tricky to get used to, but we have a fair amount of choice now. The important question, Versi, is how you want to look - and when and where you want to look it.”

The question is slipped onto the end as softly as a scorpion’s sting into a meal. “Adorjan?” Jade lies innocently. “I don’t think I’ve heard of them - are they a famous dancer where you’re from?”

Versi blinked: Shard’s rapid collection of drawings had overwhelmed her a little; the young Lunar sat there, flipping slowly through the designs, trying to work out how the pictures would look in real life. The question had taken her aback. Versi looked up at Shard, tilting her head curiously, trying to understand why she’d asked that. “You don’t know about the Silent Wind?" The young girl’s stupefaction was entirely genuine: it was as if Shard had just asked what trees were. Still, soon enough Versi brought herself back to reality, blushing a little at the realization. “Sorry, sorry. Adorjan is one of the Yozis. Rulers and prisoners of Malfeas, once the Primordials, ect?” She looked to Shard quizzically. Surely she had to know that much, right?

Shard frowns, figuring how to best put this, and carefully starts using those conwoman’s instincts to examine Versi. A girl unfamiliar with an abundance of personal possessions, more at comfort with combat than clothes, unaware that the Yozis were not common knowledge, at least not uniformly…

“Not everyone’s had your father’s education.” Jade says lightly. “Mine was a bit, ah, scattershot. The nature of travelling through the Scavenger Lands leads to expertise and ignorance in equal measure.” She smiles. “But I’m always happy to learn. Would you care to share some of your knowledge with me? Consider it advance payment for the dresses.”

She slides closer to Versi, and tests the waters a bit. “Did your father teach you about them?” She asks.

Versi chuckled a little darkly at that, shaking her head. It was a funny thought, but it touched a bit of an old wound. “No. He doesn’t like demon summoning anyway. He wouldn’t start teaching me about the Yozis. He didn’t even want to teach me sorcery.”

The young girl tilted her head, studying Shard and trying to think this through. Braga had told her that people would get the wrong idea if she just told everyone about her past. That many would have the same reaction the Dynasts had; assuming that it meant she was either a demon or a literal Anathema. But Shard wasn’t just anyone: she was Exalted. She was smart, thoughtful, friendly… she wasn’t trustworthy, but she couldn’t do anything with this truth, could she? Who’d believe her? How could she prove it?.

Eventually, sighing, the little girl with messy hair smiled up at Shard. “I can answer questions if you want. I grew up in Malfeas. It’s kinda easy to learn about demons when they’re all you really remember.” Well, demons and one old crabbity ghost, but that just made the story more complicated. Best to keep it simple.

Shard blinks, tilting her head to the side as yet further of her theories regarding the background of Versi’s relationship with Braga get blown right out of the water. She is thankfully able to limit her startlement to nothing more than a little cough.

“Well, Malfeas.” She manages. The Dynast was a demon-summoner, wasn’t he? There was certainly a story behind this. Jade’s mind boggled trying to imagine what it could be, dragging up disparate bits of learned lore and stolen scrolls to see what she could remember about the demon city. Assuming that this wasn’t a child’s fanciful imagination…

A look at Versi put a dent in that theory. If pressed, the conwoman would admit that Versi probably had at least five years maturity on her, ten on a bad day. A delusion, possibly… best test the waters. “I wouldn’t spread that one around, dear.” She says carefully. “People can be a bit strange about such jokes, especially if they’re true…”

Concern rides on her face. The Lunar has been a little off today, a bit too placid, calm, casual towards revelations. She isn’t sure what it means, but it’s not comforting. Carefully, she grips Versi’s arm to make sure it’s not trembling, and inspects her face for fever. “Versino, I’ve just told you that I was spying on you, and you share this with me? Are you aware of what… please tell me it’s a joke.” She mutters, giving up the pretence and placing a hand to the girl’s forehead. Neither too hot, nor too cold... thoughts of disguise magic and paranoia flash through her mind, consequence of the strange conversation of the green flare. She’s used mental influence herself, and knows how invasive it can be.

“Are you feeling alright? You seem a little off today.” She says, checking the eyes. “Now, don’t be alarmed, but…” yes, that’s not going to alarm anyone, is it? “...do you have any reason to believe someone is exerting… mental charms on you?”

Versi blinked at that, looking up at Shard with an expression of honest surprise before chuckling briefly at that choice of question. “Other than you?”

Snorting to herself at that, the young Lunar shrugged off Jade’s attentions, smiling at the Solar whilst shaking her head. She’s still a different person from the one she was before, quieter, more serious, but for a moment there’s that spark of fun and enjoyment back. “I’m fine. Like I said, I knew you weren’t who you said ever since the Hall of Records. That disguise magic was powerful, and too quick for Sorcery, so I was pretty sure on what you were too. You telling me outright just makes things a little simpler. It’s not made the situation here any more complicated, or any worse. Which means I think it’s the best news I’ve heard all week.”

The messy haired Lunar grinned a pearly smile at that thought, laying back against the side of the tent. She was tired. She felt tired too often these days. “As to what I just said… how would you tell it to people? How could you prove it? What use would it be to them? Unless you think I’m literally a demon or some sort of Malfean spy, it gets you nothing.” Versi sagged a little at that thought. It was true. Confessing to being born and raised in the Demon Realm was less of a matter for Huntsmen than the silver mark on her brow. She shook her head towards Shard, sighing slightly. “The fact that I’m a Lunar is a bigger secret and you already know that, unfortunately. Telling you the truth about where I come from doesn’t give you any real advantage over me.”

Versi’s eyes narrowed, just a touch as she spoke those words. A darker possibility dawned on her, though she winked as she looked back up at Shard, trying to smile. “Unless you’ve got Malfean connections of your own, of course.”

Shard stares at Versi for a long moment, her mouth open as she tries to express everything that was wrong with the last couple of statements at once, and merely gables. Eventually, she decides to start with a confused “I didn’t place any mental Charms on you, Versi. What makes you think I did?”

The spy lets go of the younger girl and stands up, mental cogwheels spinning as she tries to work out what to do with all this information. Things might not be getting more complicated for Versi, but the same cannot be said for either Bright Shard or Jade Lotus. There’s even a small Captain Varil in there somewhere, yelling about duties to Lookshy or some rot. “Saying that you’re from the Demon City...”

Shard pinches the bridge of her nose, an act of great karma for all the confusion she’s inflicted upon other people in the last few days, and checks there’s nobody eavesdropping.

“...the Justicar would not be too concerned that you are Anathema, given that he employs a number of them, myself being evidence of this. It’s still not something that you should tell him, but it’s a far gentler revelation than the idea that you came from Malfeas! Intelligence heads are not known for their gentleness, and the thought of a demon-child in their city could lead to an outright vicious paranoia. What if I did tell him that you were a Malfean spy, or he came to that conclusion himself? Where would you and your father be then?”

She almost hisses. If trust was death, then this was placing your neck in the noose and jumping up and down on the trapdoor with both feet. Whatever’s caused this strange behaviour needed to be resolved before it causes some serious damage.

“I’m thinking you might be under some sort of influence to make you trust me. Some charming dolt must have thought they’d be helping.” Bright Shard pauses, using her artisan’s mind to approach this problem systematically. “Could you - if you wish - tell me when you think I placed this influence upon you, and how you suspect it is altering your feelings?”

Versi blinked, honestly surprised at Shard’s reaction. She hadn’t thought most people would care too much about where she came from, and had never quite understood why Braga seemed worried about it. Shard's reaction seemed to bear that out, but it still made little sense: it wasn’t like Malfeas could invade Creation. Why would her origins make her a threat? At Shard’s final question, the little Lunar paused for a second, thinking back. She knew what’d happened, but she needed to put it together carefully. Just in case there was something at the root of this. “The first time we met, in the examination room. I felt kinda like I knew you already, even before you woke up. Like you were an old friend I'd kinda forgotten about. It was just a faint feeling, and I didn’t think much about it at first. But when you came into the Hall of Records as that Captain, I had the same impression. Even though you looked different, I knew it was you somehow.”

Versi sighed, it was vague, but she couldn’t describe it more. She looked away from the artisan, trying to reflect on past conversations with the spy. “I don’t think it altered my feelings a lot, especially not once I was aware of it. I assumed it was just a simple charm to make me have a good first impression of you, to make the whole spying thing easier.” She shrugged: even after Shard’s words, the messy haired Lunar was still seemingly unconvinced about the whole thing being important. She chuckled a little. “As to the Malfean thing, you still can’t prove a word of it. And it sounds like an improbable story. ‘That young Air Aspect is actually a Lunar Anathema from Malfeas sent here to spy on us for the Yozi’s upcoming invasion’. I don’t think most people would believe something like that without proof.”

“I don’t have to prove it, Versi… just provide a suggestion that further enquiries are to be taken. And then the spies and sorcerers of Lookshy will investigate, and if they conclude you are from Malfeas…” She winced. “...demons are not liked, darling, and those who associate get tarred with the same brush. Be careful.”

Dragons, but she was going to have to talk to Braga again, about his (adopted?) daughter, and about why she should learn to lie and disguise and all the other things that the honest Dynast so disliked in the spy.

“As for the mental influence… I can’t do anything to anyone while I’m asleep, and prior to the examination room I hadn’t even met you.” And apparently it penetrated through formerly unbeatable disguises, thank you for that. “It must have been placed by someone else beforehand. I can’t think of any explanation otherwise, even….”

Her voice trails off as she works through the possibilities, examining Versi’s testimony for clues. An instant liking on sight, an instinct for Jade’s presence and coupled with odd behaviour around the spy, including an uncharacteristic sharing about her life. Now what could tha-

Jade blinked. Oh, dragons

[Inspector Valin]

A Growing Bond II: (Earlier on the march towards Lookshy)

In rising desperation, she examined Versi again. It was difficult to see, but if you looked past the armour and the scars the girl was, what, thirteen? Young but growing into an adult, a time when she is experiencing new emotions and feelings, developing new tastes and Heaven save me desires…

If I turn out to be his daughter’s first crush, Jade thinks glumly, I don’t think Sesus Braga will ever forgive me.

“Versi,” She says delicately, taking a delicate step away, “It, well, the familiarity, the emotion on sight, the… how to put this? Sounds a little like you’re attracted to me.” She bites her lip, and oh please let Braga have dealt with this conversation already. “Has your father….talked to you about this sort of thing?”

Versi looked quizzically into Shard’s eyes, not quite understanding her meaning at first. Slowly, however realization dawned in the young girl’s eyes. And a massive grin seeped onto her face. It was wrong of her, she understood the older woman’s worry, but Versino couldn’t help herself: she laughed at that thought; a long, loud and heartfelt laugh. No matter how long she spent in Creation, all the worries and thoughts of people, dancing around things, trying to be delicate.

Eventually, the young Lunar managed to calm herself a little. Wiping away a tear of mirth from her eye, she shook her head towards the craftswoman, smiling gently at her. This wasn’t her fault. “Shard… I grew up in the Demon City. Tending a bar. I know what people do behind closed doors, and what gold lanterns mean.” Sighing slightly, the young Lunar shook her head. “I never got to lay around with anyone myself, that’s what comes of being a slave who spent most of her nights in an unlit cellar, but I still know how things work. For Demons and Creation Born.”

In theory, at least. She’d not really thought about physical stuff like that since coming to Creation. And she’d never met any other humans before that point. Could she be attracted to Shard? Versi blinked slightly, looking the craftswoman up and down for a second before sighing wistfully, pondering the thought. She was beautiful, beyond a doubt. A part of her wished she could be like her in so many ways; her looks, her calmness, her skills at dealing with people. As to the person, Bright Shard though…

Versi couldn’t easily define her own feelings. She’d been a clear threat for the duration of this mission, a spy who was ready to reveal her secret. But even then, she’d talked with Shard, smiled and laughed with her, helped her with her cooking… She liked spending time with Shard. Even eknowing everything she did about the true woman, the Lookshyan spy and Solar and Solar who could lie as easily as breathing... Versino did trust her on some level. She wanted to keep her safe, wanted to spend more nights listening to her stories…

The young messy haired Lunar blushed slightly, looking up at Shard with a silent awkward smile. She couldn’t put her finger on the truth of things. Hopefully Shard could understand that.

Jade being who she was, she couldn’t help but feel rather more insulted than relieved at the instantaneous laughter. She was pretty! She worked at it, damnit, and how dare this little child not be attracted to okay stopping that thought right now.

Thankfully, the conwoman’s internal indignation gives Versi enough time to finish her laughter and launch into her explanation, and by the end of it Shard is smirking too even as she catalogues the clues about Versi’s background. Some of the implications, probably alien to the Lunar - a fish that has spent its life swimming in poison has little idea that it has suffered compared to its cousins in water - earn quiet winces of sympathy inside Jade’s mind.

“Do spare me the details of your Malfean education.” She says dryly, putting her hands up in mock surrender. Her own childhood had left her with no illusions about the bizarre pastimes people got up to, but she was fairly certain that the Demon City could provide something she didn’t want to know. “Despite my boasting, I’m evidently not entirely unshockable.”

Carefully, she inspects the girl’s silence, her nervousness, her gaze… for all her early worldliness, there was that same youthful uncertainty you’d expect, just better tempered and worn. “It’s, ah, evident that you know about the mechanics in some manner.” She says, with amusement at her earlier tiptoeing. “But you might be lacking elsewhere, given your background. I’m thinking, should you not mind, that you might want a bit of direction and advice on the social side of things. The emotions and how you treat them, rather than the…” she waves a hand dismissively “...physicality.”

And, given Versi’s current expression, there was one thing she should definitely start off with. “It’s okay to not know, let me be clear. Not know what you’re feeling or want or need, or the answer to any questions.” She grins. “As far as I’ve observed, nobody really knows what they’re doing in these matters. Some just hide it better. Oh, the stories I could tell…”

“If you don’t want to talk to me about these things, I’d recommend the Chuzei’s wife or your father. Better, both: different perspectives are a blessing. If, on the other hand, you have any questions…” She spreads her hands.

The messy haired Lunar nodded, smiling appreciatively at both Shard’s advice and her offer. All of this was strange to think about, and she didn’t have many options for discussing it. Having the different perspective was good, and the advice was better yet. Versi could’ve sighed in relief at Shard’s confirmation that her uncertainty was ok. It was good to be on the same page as normal people for once. To know that other humans had things they didn’t understand about life in Creation.

Looking up, the young Exalt smiled at her companion, face still a little red but smiling nonethe less. “I don’t know what questions to ask yet. But thank you for the offer. And yes, I trust you enough to talk about this stuff with you.” Looking away from the craftswoman for a few seconds, Versi sighed, mind turning backwards. She still managed a slightly weary grin when she looked back to Shard however. “Relationships and attraction are different for demons. Very different sometimes. Most of what I know about mortals getting together comes from demonic actors making fun of legendary romances.”

“I’d recommend against placing too much trust in me, Versi.” Shard insists airily. “It’s not that I’d want to betray you, but I don’t have the stomach for resisting interrogation. I may not have a choice.”

The spy looks at Versi’s face, and then decides that lesson isn’t going to take, at least not right now. “But coming to me on these matters is perfectly acceptable.” She admits. “And on that subject - I am curious as to what the Demon City makes of the famous romances. It’d be hard to do them worse than humans have done, sometimes. Mind sharing?”

This way, she’d learn a little about the Demon City - always exciting - and be able to screen the worst of the misconceptions that Versi had without needing her to make those mistakes first.

“Hmm…. where to start?”

Versi sighed pleasantly, leaning back down and letting her scarlet wings spread out across the grass. Closing her eyes, the young Malfean started to think back to the quiet halls of the Glorious Shogunate; hours spent quietly watching rehearsal and humming out arias to herself. She kept her eyes closed as she spoke, focusing on those past distant memories. “Generally, mortal love is either a fancy excuse for sleeping with someone you shouldn’t or a series of false proclamations two important make to each other whilst sleeping with lots of lovers and planning to kill the other one. If the two lovers are sincere, they’re naive and will be tricked into somehow killing each other: like when Homukari Eizen slew Vagyn Ujeni in naval combat without either one recognizing the other’s ship.”

Dragon Below, she could still remember the first time she’d seen the company pull off that scene. Fire, smoke and dancing through it all. The little Lunar smiled contentedly at the memory. That had been beautiful to watch. In a second though, Versi was back on topic, humming a line of Ujeni’s final aria to herself as she tried to think of how to explain where those plays fit into the minds of the patrons she’d known. She kept on in the same vein for a while, outlining some of the better remembered stories. Finally she sighed. “Still, Demons never agree on anything, let alone something like love. There are some legitimately touching stories from Malfeas, demons who either truly feel love or aspire towards it. Gervesin’s tale still gets retold, and for every demon that laughs at the Greiving Lord, another respects the tale of him and Kinnojo. Stories of Floviant’s adventures always made it into the bar, though that’s a bit more complicated. The Whim of the Wind is… unique.”

Trying to talk about demons as a whole was weird. You could generalize about the serfs of a given species, but even those had some variety. And humans saw all demons as pretty much the same, which was a mistake in a different way….Versi sighed happily to herself, quiet for a second before looking up at Shard with a nostalgic gleam in her eye. “I miss the drinks. Malfeas has bonewine, and if you distill it with the right Hegran water, you can get all sorts of emotions mixed into the alcohol. Joy, sorrow, dreams of something better… it was amazing.”

Jade sits back to listen to the stories of Malfean romance, nodding in tune. Overall, the demonic cynicism towards romance seems to fit into her views a lot better than the overwrought tragedy or forced brightness so popular among the high operas and stately theatres, but most of what interests her is this glimpse into a world both alien and parallel to the one she’s used to. The names vary from the familiar to the warped and the unknown, some recognized from her scattershot study and others as alien as the stars in the void…

“Well, fiction never quite gets these things right.” She puts in, getting her advice out there in disguise before moving onto other subjects. “Humans idealize, demons demonize, and leave the confusion and mess in between to reality…” She stretches out, shaking her head at the folly of mankind. “...I take it you miss it, even if you’re glad you left? It sounds like you enjoyed the opera and the drinks, no matter what else you left behind.” She grins briefly. “I can sing quite well too, you know, though I doubt your father would like the songs I know. They tend to the bawdy - there’s A Monk’s Staff Has A Knob On The End, if you’re feeling blunt, and Somewhere There’s A Dragon For You, and Shedding Of The Seven Veils has some jokes I still don’t quite understand after all these years…”

She stops briefly, musing, and laughs to herself.

“Oh, ‘grinding mirrors’, of course! That’s what it’s referring!”

Versi snickered at that, happy to hear Shard laugh. She shook her head in answer to the earlier question. “Tavern songs don’t spread that far I guess. Most of the ones I know are either from the Shogunate, or are in Old Realm. You’ve never heard the tongue of Gods, Elementals and Sorcerers until you’ve heard a Blood Ape bellow out a few verses from Ozan’s libretto of Fifty Hearts.” Grinning at that memory, Versino took a deep breath before putting on her best baritone, letting her arms hang from her side like her old red furred patrons. “Wǒmen xuējiǎn tāmen de, wǒmen mùyù zài tāmen...”

She couldn’t keep it up: the little Lunar fell to one knee for a second, breathless with laughter. It takes her a little time to pull herself back together, sitting down on the ground now once again. Calmer now, Versi’s mind turns backwards towards Shard’s question. Did she miss Malfeas? She hummed to herself for a second, pondering the matter before replying. “I miss things about it. I miss getting to take a sip of Bonewine when no one was looking, or sneaking off to watch demons dance and sing. There’s no music quite like that of the Yozis and their creations. I miss listening to Glimmerscale and that blue tinted Aalu talking about their writing project, and how they’d always thank me for bringing them another round without needing to ask.”

Versi sighed pleasantly at that. Some simple things seemed so much better, looking back. Still, listening to the wind gently blow far off leaves, the young Lunar didn’t need to think too much on the matter, shaking her head emphatically. “I don’t miss Malfeas though. There, I was a slave. A thing that could pray and do chores and show how wealthy Vahliz was. I didn’t even have a name. Now?” Versino chuckled to herself, eyes meeting Shard’s once again, smiling wide. “Now I’m whoever I want to be. In a world with so many things I didn’t know about.” She still didn’t know the words to describe how that felt, but in spite of everything that’d happened since she’d crossed over, Creation was still a wonderful place. And she wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Shard titters at Versi’s copy of the Blood Ape song, hiding her laugh beneath a draping sleeve. “We’ll have to share our songs sometimes.” She says. “There’s little better for learning about a place than its plays, poetry and songs, what the people do and why they do it. The Shanties of the West - now, imagine those on a stormy night!”

The conwoman listens to Versi talk of her new life, reluctantly raising her estimation of Braga a few notches as she did so. She still generally stuck by her previous statement that the only thing good about the Dynast was his position as a father, but… that virtue was turning out to be a bit wider and stronger than she’d initially anticipated. Covering up her thoughts with a clearing of her throat, Shard attempts to ape Versi’s native song. “Wǒma…. wǒmen xuējiǎn tāmen d-de, wǒmen mùyù zàiurgk!”

Coughing like she’d downed a bottle of Ireva’s strongest sake, Shard eventually recovers her voice and the tattered scraps of her dignity. “I think that range goes a bit too deep for me.” She reluctantly admits. Her conwoman’s instincts flare to the surface, the need to keep the other party talking, make sure the revelations flow. “But enough about me. Now that you’re out in this wonderful world of Creation…” She spreads her hands out at the humble campsite. “...what is it that you have given thought to doing? Say, both what is practical and what you’d do were there no restrictions on you at all.”

Versi couldn’t help a grin at Shard’s attempt at the Blood Ape chant, chuckling at the thought of the conwoman trying to blend into a Malfean bar with that. She was close, but Old Realm was a hard language to speak, and a few subtle shifts in pronunciation led to a very different interpretation. Though one that would’ve fit the Demon City quite well. The young girl fought to stifle a snicker, nodding to the Solar. “Not quite the same thing, but… close enough.”

The little warrior lay back, resting on her velvety red wings before sighing slightly. “I don’t know where I go from here, honestly. Our plan was Lookshy. Father could fit in there, and I could study Sorcery at Valkhawsen, try and understand Creation as it is a little better.” Versi chuckled, only slightly bitterly as she thought back. “Pretty much everything that’s happened since then has not helped with that plan. Father needing to join the Legion, the others now knowing what I am… and the war.”

And the Cleansing Versino’s eyes flicked away from Shard at that, her gaze turning towards the ceiling. That was the most difficult part of all. Lookshy’s attitude towards Anathema had never been friendly, but apparently they were now working hand in hand with the Realm’s new initiative. Chuzei Zhou and perhaps Shard’s employer might be exceptions, but the majority of Lookshy officially wanted the Anathema dead. It was them on one side, the Mask on the other, and little Versi and Braga caught in between.

She looked back to Bright Shard for a few moments. Versi wasn’t hiding the look of worry in her eyes, but something held her tongue. Despite everything else that’d happened, Shard worked for Lookshy. She couldn’t trust her that much. Instead, the young Lunar looked down for a second, snorting quietly. “No one ever said that life in Creation was going to be simple, did they?” She shook her head before returning to Shard, starting to smile a little now. They needed a different topic. Versi gestured towards the conwoman. “How about you? What were you planning to do with your life before this all started? Have you always wanted to be a spy?”

Shard examines Versi closely, tucking away her reactions and silences for comparison against future actions. She doesn’t have quite enough experience of the Lunar to immediately tell what is usual for her and what is not, not when the way she acts around Jade seems to be a touch warped...

“Ah, that question.” Shard says, chuckling as she works out how to provide a complete answer that lacks any meaningful details. “You don’t really decide to be a spy, Versi - the business decides that you should be one. They’re on the watch for people with a certain array of skills and a complete absence of background, or one they can use as an excuse to send you whereever they want…”

She spreads her hands. “So I can sympathize with life not ending up where you planned, or wanted. When there’s only one path left in front of you and all you can do is walk it as best as you can.” She shrugs. “But these things can have quite a few pleasant surprises, dear. We wouldn’t be sitting here together if I’d become a carpenter, and I’m quite enjoying this conversation.”

“Plans never last, take it from me. If you can adapt to what the world throws at you… well, who knows what could happen?” She smiles encouragingly. Hopefully with this, she will have directed the conversation away from herself. “Certainly not me.”

Versi chuckled at that, the faint contemplative look broken at last. Her mind had been lingering back in Lookshy, in that old Water Aspect’s office. Shard’s words about being a spy reminded her of that man, and how little he’d really given away. For all of Versi’s theories about the man, and Shard for that matter, she had little she could truly rely upon. Nothing she could prove…

Another look at Shard however raises the young Lunar’s spirits a little. The crafty spy is right; nothing was set, nothing was certain. Not even here, with Fate watching over everything. The Chosen made their own paths through life, just as Braga had always said. Nodding, Versi slowly propped herself upright, leaning across the tent towards her pack. With a grin, she withdrew the same hefty book Shard had seen her reading back at Lookshy, so long ago.

Reverently laying the overlarge leather tome on her lap, Versi grinned up at Shard. “Plans have to change sometimes...but that doesn’t mean they’re not worth following while you can, right?” Looking down at the worn brown pages, the little Lunar sighed contentedly, swiftly flicking through with the ease of one who’d read the same passages many times. “I’ll have to return this when we get back to Lookshy.. But for now, it’s mine. Daric’s Laws of Magic, in all its boring, wonderful tedium.”

The image lingers in her head. A young girl clad in shining silver robes, standing atop a tower, with the essence of the great Dragon Lines running through her fingertips. Eyes closed for a second of make believe, Versi smiled to herself, before looking back to Jade, grin still lingering on her face. “Plans fade. Dreams don’t.”

Did she have dreams once? Jade briefly tries to go back to her own youth, theoretically so recent, before dismissing the thought and focusing on the present. As best as she can, she examines the book: sorcery is one of the few areas where the multi-talented woman doesn’t can’t fake expertise. Oh, she can do the knowledge fine enough, and even with wit or wisdom, but the actual casting is a can-or-can’t, and Jade’s never been comfortable with the idea of sacrifices required. But Versi…

“The footsteps of the father?” Jade asked softly. “Have you told him? He’d be honoured.” Sesus Braga, for all his problems, should at least know that his one grand virtue appreciates him. Which, sadly, reminds her of what she has to do…

“I should mention to the Chuzei the possibility of mental influence, if that’s fine with you.” She says, standing up into business mode. She half-hopes it’s really invasive influences that are causing Versi’s trust: the thought of explaining a crush to her father does not fill the conwoman with joy. ”Just to make sure.”

Versi’s with her book, and from her reverence eager to start reading. Jade almost leaves her to it, but it doesn’t quite seem the right note to end the conversation on. With a touch of effort, she digs up some old platitudes. “But yes. Keep an eye on your dreams.” She says. “Even if the path changes, they offer a guiding light.”

She bows and turns her palms in supplication, a touch of theatre. “Farewell, Versino, Silver Sorceress of the East. I look forward to the next conversation we have.”

Versi had nodded at the request to check with the Chuzei about mental influence; unconcerned. At Shard’s little speech however, the young Exalt looked up, smiling warmly. It was kind of the craftswoman to say that, to try and encourage her. Versi wasn’t used to people other than Braga doing that. At Shard’s final bow and farewell however, Versi chuckled. The thought of herself as some majestic, important figure equal to the other Chosen was still bizarre. Placing the book to the ground for just a second, the young sorceress bowed her head, grinning up at the perfect looking Solar. “Farewell, Bright Shard, beautiful spy of Lookshy. It’s always a pleasure to see you.”

Words given, Versi picked the book back up again, swiftly losing herself in its pages and bizarre diagrams. Even when lost in study of magical rules and theorizing though, something about Shard always managed to cheer her up a little bit. What it was, the young Lunar couldn’t quite define… but it didn’t matter. She knew where she stood with Bright Shard. That’s what was important.

[industrious]

Deathknight

The Wolf charges, a cunning ruse to draw the Beast forward. The Wolf charges, his steps sure, and his movements precise, as he lures the Creature away from his Pack.

The Wolf charges, and the crackling of leaves beneath grass give his position away.

There is the twang of a taut bowstring. A screaming miasma, a ghostly visage streaks towards the Wolf - an apparition of Oblivion.

An arrow protrudes from the Wolf's skull.


First, Skandi takes a die of lethal poison: [roll0]

The Deathknight is using Piercing Ghost Barb and a Frog Crotch Arrow, as well as Splinter of the Void twice. The attack is Unblockable except for unarmed weapons, and ignore all armored soak.


[roll1] + 5 sux = 18 sux
Base damage is 10L/2

[Aevylmar]

The black arrow whips through the moonsilver shield, Skandi's head jerks back with the force of the blow. To the archer, it seems that he's shot the wolf clear through the head.

Then there is a deliberate turn. The arrow is caught by the shaft between the teeth. He looks at the archer contemptuously as a drop of poison from the top lands on the ground, and then Skandi the Wolf bites it in two, spits it out, and continues running.

Skandi's unarmed defense is... doing math... 6+5+2+2 / 2 - 2 = 6. Throwing 6 motes into first dex, hoping for a good stunt, and channeling Valor, because c'mon, teeth. If the arrow is rolling more than 6d10 damage, Skandi will also throw as many motes as he has to to bring him to 6d10 or below into the Stamina excellency to raise his soak.

[roll0]

Stat Block to Copy-Post

All buffs are factored in.
Boosts: Deadly Beastman Form (+1 all physical attributes, heal a Bashing and a Lethal each round, +4L/4B soak, +4 yards/tick of move, +2 hearing), Relentless Lunar Fury (+1 sux, piercing, +3L damage, attacks do not have action penalties)
Penalties: None.

Attack Pools
Moonwrath - Speed 5, Accuracy 15 / 17, Damage 14L / 2, Rate 2
Axe - Speed 5, Accuracy 12 / 14, Damage 11L, Rate 2
Shieldbash - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 , Damage 8B, Rate 1
Dagger - Speed 4, Accuracy 13 / 15, Damage 7L, Rate 3
Iron Boot - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 / 13, Damage 12B, Rate 2
Note: (Fierce blows are currently off.)

Defense Pools
Moonwrath - 6 / 7
Axe - 5 / 6
Shield - 8 / 9
Dodge - 4

Essence: 3
Personal: 18/23
Peripherial: 0/52
Willpower: 5/10
Committed: 19

Getting Hit
Soak: 17L / 19B
Natural: 7L/10B
Hardness: 8L / 8B
Health Levels: *0/1/1/1/1/*1/1/1/1/2/2/4

[Ascension]

On the Ancient Battlefield

Braga shakes his head slowly, marveling at the fact that he's only just put the pieces together. The truth is palpable in the essence suffusing this place; he ought to have felt it and realized what was happening as soon as he arrived. This will stand as a reminder of the hazard of allowing oneself to become distracted.

"Not ghosts, no," he echoes, and adds, "No divine legion, either. I realize what happened now... stop and listen to Creation, and you should feel it too. It wasn't the spirits of the dead who heard your prayer, Karal Ireva, nor the gods, it was the land itself. And it wakened to the call. This place is a demesne now, and what you see is its own memory of those who fought here. A manse could be built to commemorate them, and thus to crystallize that memory, but what you see now is the limit of what the uncapped demesne is capable of. They have no motivating spirit; they are only silent shades."

He would like to think that this news would come as a relief to one who was raised in the Faith, and one who saw the terrible ends to which the dead can be bent in the dark streets of Thorns, but, under these exact circumstances, he isn't certain it will. The devotion that called up the apparitions was genuine, it certainly seems, and their appearance may have been all that saved Ireva and the Kazei from the monks they fought. To hear that that salvation was due to nothing more than an illusion...

"I know you thought them more," he says, gently. He can't truly say he's sorry that they aren't what Ireva expected, but he is sorry for any disappointment or sense of loss she might feel, knowing that the true dead of Utam are beyond her propitiation.

[Ifni]

"Creation doesn't speak to all of us as it does to you, Chozei," Ireva says gently. "Although from what you say, I gather it can listen, sometimes... I knew manses could do that, and I'd wondered if the power of the old fortress was still present. But I didn't know it could happen spontaneously." There is a hint of awe in her voice.

She smiles a little at his last words. "You must think I have high expectations, to consider the land itself waking in answer to my words as inadequate... I asked because I wanted to understand, and to ensure we weren't disrespectful to those who fell here. That they're echoes and memories, not spirits somehow trapped here - I'm glad. But I would still like to do proper honor to this place and its past, if we can."

The Eclipse turns back to the quiet glade. "I assume raising a manse takes time, which we do not have. But could we perhaps do something smaller for the moment, in commemoration? You cut a trench in the earth, back at the village; could you raise a cairn or a pillar or something of the kind? Would that be appropriate, Kazei, by Lookshyan mores?"

As a note, Ireva knows that manses can communicate on an emotional level because she has a Sympathetic Dream Link to hers.

Looking back over what she said out loud - she never mentioned thinking they were ghosts, all she said was that she wanted to understand what was going on, so she could do proper honor to the dead. As noted, by the time Braga showed up, she was already leaning toward "probably not ghosts".

[The_Snark]

Isa nods thoughtfully at Braga’s explanation. It would explain the melodies she hears; it feels right. A naturally occurring geomantic phenomenon, as a student of Devon’s school might say. Echoes of battles past imprinted on the essence of Creation, the memories remaining long after the tears dried and the blood washed away. The subtle threads of destiny that make up Tepet Xet feel restrictive of a sudden - the persona of the Dynast was not made for occasions such as this. She is carefree and charming, mercurial, sensual, quick to laugh and quick to lie; the inverse of Isa herself, in many ways. This place calls for the priestess, the ascetic, the solemn witness. But to show those parts of herself here, now, would strain the fate she wears.

Instead she remains silent. Tepet Xet is out of place here, just as Isa would be at a Dynast's revel, and so she will stand aside. (In truth this is Isa's instinct, not Xet's, but she can excuse stifling Xet's impulses via her keen sense of self-preservation.)

[DeafnotDumb]

Keeping safely in the background, Bright Shard briefly turns her attention away from scholarly discussion on the distinction between ghosts and mere manse-driven phantoms in order to commit a bit of attention towards the group's Immaculate. She, or at least the persona Xet uses to face the world, seems a touch uncomfortable here: normally blazing colours muted, a touch of the manner of the mouse about the peacock's person. She grabs her attention with a soft nudge of the foot and frowns concern at her. All well? She tries to project.

Right now, she'd rather not draw the commander's attention until she's had a chance to speak with Ireva and the Chuzei, but this little thing is at least something she can do.

[Ascension]

On the Ancient Battlefield

"That I could do," Braga agrees.

With a last glance back at Tepet Xet, he lights down from his horse.

"You said that Lookshy was forged here," he says, stepping closer to the ephemeral army. "Tell me what you know of the battle fought here, please. The stele ought to tell the tale so that passersby understand what they see."

Then he frowns at the unfortunate necessity of the addendum which should be made to that message.

"It can also warn of the demesne. Left uncapped like this, it could lead to mutation in mortals dwelling nearby. After the war is over... perhaps then we will be able to see that a proper manse is raised here to contain its power."

I'm waiting for Versi to post first in the other scene.

[Inspector Valin]

Ancient Battlefield
Versi blinks at Braga's words, the possibility surprising to her. Manses, to the little Malfean girl, had always seemed much more formed than that: places with a firm sort of essence behind them, perhaps a will of their own. The idea of someone, even a Chosen, being able to shape that essence with a simple prayer seemed.... odd to her. Not impossible, just strange, a little surreal. She'd been more inclined to believe the army of the dead as genuine. At the end of the day though, Braga understood Geomancy far better than his daughter did. If he thought this was the most likely explanation, it was almost certainly correct.

The question answered, Versi turned her attention back firmly to Xet. The Immaculate seemed... oddly quiet. Perhaps out of fear of Fire Orchid, but that seemed strange when close to figures who trusted her far more than that. Softly, Versi placed her feat upon the ground, drawing her extended wings back and letting Skycutter rest pointed towards the earth for a moment. Her eyes still were trained on Tepet Xet, but the poor woman was already surrounded by potential enemies. She didn't need much more threat, whatever masters she might actually serve.

Current Battlefield
Versi flinched as Skandi charged towards the unseen archer, trying not to look as the arrows flew, one or two of them lodging themselves within the wolf's flesh. It would be ok. She could come back, with help, they'd drive the monsters off and everything would be fine. This wasn't the end, she wasn't abandoning Skandi to his doom.

No matter how much she told herself that, it didn't feel true. But there was nothing they could do about it now. Shaking her head in an attempt to clear it, Versi darted towards Braga, wings beating like a drum as she rose above the ground. In a moment, she'd plucked her father off the ground, one hand beneath the air aspect's knees and her other at his shoulders. Soon enough, Versi's flight pulled the two of them higher, above the surrounding trees, to the point that they could make out the lights of the camp some ways off in the distance.

Under other circumstances, this might have been a wonderful diversion for the two of them: flying through the air faster than the birds. As things stood though, Versi just about managed a faint smile for her father, before looking away, her face turning grim as she sped onwards towards the distant lights of Fire Orchid's camp. Her wings were faster now, boyed by essence infusion, and letting the little Lunar cut through the night sky at a near impossible speed. Birds darted past them, shocked at this strange force of nature, only the great Scarlet Crane above her able to match Versi's breakneck speed towards the camp. She could bring the others here quickly, faster than even the Frostwing could've managed, but would she be fast enough?

Hold on, Skandi. Just... don't die, ok?

Flurrying misc pickup and Dash towards the camp. That's 5 ticks of the dash done with. Two more dash actions until Versi's at the camp

[Ifni]

"Ah," Ireva says at the mention of mutation, sounding a little taken aback. "You mean, like a Wyld zone? That sounds... like a warning would be useful, yes."

"As for the battle, I know only what the Kazei told me..." She looks to Fire Orchid and opens a hand, deferring to the older Solar. It makes little sense for her to repeat second-hand information when the source is standing right there, not to mention that Fire Orchid and Zhou will know the more appropriate customs of remembrance in this situation.

And when the focus of attention is shifted away from her - she glances briefly toward Xet. How much of that apparent discomfort, held close in stillness, is real rather than feigned? She briefly touches the scented leather pouch at her throat, and smiles, as she momentarily meets the other woman's eyes. An innocuous gesture to anyone else, and easily disregarded, but Isa will notice it, and in its reminder of a gift and wards against the dead perhaps read her message: thank you for coming, and is there anything else that must be done?

[DeafnotDumb]

Earlier

Jade is still mulling over certain matters - namely the events behind one particular green flare, and how to get line of sight to the commander - when a silvery light briefly dominates the horizon. While no expert in deciphering the metaphors behind the anima flares of the celestial Exalted, the conwoman is quite aware that they almost always mean trouble.

There is just one problem - in working out whose flare it is. There are two Lunars in the group, assuming Braga or the Chuzei haven't decided to discard their disguises in this flock of wolves. It is probably Skandi the Wolf's flare, in which case the trouble can be keenly left to his considerable might -

- but it might be the anima of Versi, in which case the dear Justicar might be a bit unhappy should she die. And people like that, when unhappy, have a habit of spreading it about with a big shovel, especially onto innocent defenceless conwomen whose only crime was not being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

She'd probably best at least check.

With a sigh of defeat, Jade activates the Phoenix Pinions and flares off into the sky, trying to be as stealthy as possible while wearing two giant fiery wings at the shoulder.


Headed off to the Skandi fight. Gonna need to know two things:

1)How long it's been/how much Essence has been recovered since the Green Flare.

2)Whether Jade's had time to train any of her combat Charms.

[industrious]

Fire Orchid

She listens with intent at Braga's words; the general is not all too familiar with occult matters, though the Air Aspect knows from their prior discussions that her mind remains sharp and she is quick to pick up on the salient details.

"A memorial would be appropriate. A single pillar, or cairn, with no need for decoration or inscription, would suffice."

"As for the tale of the battle itself...such a story belongs around a solder's campfire. I believe it would not do to speak with great detail upon the land itself; am I mistaken, Chozei?"


She's asking if telling the full story has the possibility of summoning the actual ghosts of Utam.

At this point, I think this scene is beginning to play out?

DnD: It's been a day or two since the Green Flare, so you're all topped up on Essence. Though I don't think you've had quite enough time to fully train a Charm

[Maugan Ra]

"The full story can probably wait." Zhou says in agreement. The Fire Aspect has been largely silent since the revelation about the true nature of this place. He'd already begun to suspect that these were not normal ghosts, of course, given their appearance and the way none of them had reacted to Ireva's words, but the truth is still something of a revelation.

Maybe the fallen heroes of Utam hadn't literally risen to defend their distant children, but the memory of their courage and sacrifice was still strong enough to have been inscribed in the land itself, and that was more than enough for him. "For the purposes of a memorial, though... Utam was the first place that the Seventh Legion fought to establish themselves as an independent power, the first step on the road that would lead to Lookshy as it is today. That should suffice, I think."

[Ascension]

On the Ancient Battlefield

"There would be no true danger in telling the story here," Braga says, "or, well, no true danger in the words. It may still be a hazard to linger here, though, with those monks... I will be brief."

Shaping Earth... shaping the essence of Pasiap... is a different experience for Braga than harnessing Mela's breath. It's an art he has learned, not a calling he has wakened to. There is comfort, however, in the solidity of stone, and the durability of the stonemason's art. In many ways, Earth is Air's complement, capable of grounding Braga's high ideals, capable of lending permanence to the workings of his will.

As Braga strikes the ground, he extends his awareness through it, feeling what it is capable of being, what it soon will be. A simple pillar, in accordance with the Kazei's wishes, but with a brief inscription added as explanation: "Here In This Place, The Seventh Legion Took Its First Steps On The Road To Lookshy." He perceives a second stone standing beside the first, more roughly hewn, not a memorial to stand through the ages, but a simple warning, which hopefully may be removed soon: "The Power In This Place May Pose A Danger To Mortal Souls. Look, Marvel, And Remember, But Do Not Linger Here."

When he has finished tracing the patterns of the monument's design, he lays a hand to the Earth and, with a surge of essence, renders possibility into reality...

This is Stone-Carving Fingers Form. Wits+Craft, plus four dice from the First Craft Excellency. This should still safely be within the range of what Braga's hearthstones can easily replenish before the nighttime fight scene. I'm not certain that Stone-Carving Fingers Form can actually raise the stones, unless there's already a natural outcropping above ground level that it could carve into shape, but we've got more than enough Strength on hand for someone to lift a couple of pillars into standing positions.

[roll0]

Potential stunt: [roll1]

I should need 3 successes to achieve this, and if I hit 5 the quality of the carving should be bumped up considerably.

As far as I'm concerned, we can transition out of this scene after this.

Under the Full Moon

Versi is there, strong and swift in spite of her injuries... almost impossibly swift. Braga finds himself plucked from the ground, borne aloft with alarming speed. As he looks back to the rapidly receding scene of Skandi's desperate struggle, he realizes... he realizes that he has one way of knowing for certain what fate befalls the Wolf. He glances between Skandi himself and the beast which nips at his heels... but wait, no, he can't use Skandi himself, not for magic like this... the reports he has read from Wyld Hunts, in the libraries of the Heptagram, were clear enough about that. That means... that means his only choice is to aim for the Chimera itself.

It seems likely he'll come to regret this... but he has to know.

He allows his mind, his soul, his Essence, to call out across the space that stretches between him and the terrible quicksilver beast. He feels the Earth beneath it, he feels its racing feet rising and falling, striking the dirt... he feels how, with each step, that monstrosity is joined with the essence of Pasiap, and thus with Braga's own Essence, through the blood of the Dragons. The connection is tenuous... the distance grows... and the very thought of opening himself up to such a creature's sensations is abhorrent... but still Braga strains to force entry into its inhuman mind, to see what it sees... to see the fate that shall befall Skandi the Wolf.

I'm going to try Sense-Riding Technique on the Chimera. It's an opposed Awareness+Essence roll, and I'm throwing in three dice off the First Awareness Excellency and spending a WP to channel Conviction... this is something he feels he has to do. (I really ought to have raised Awareness higher at chargen, but it's a little late for that now.) I need at least one net success to establish a link.

Awareness (3) + Essence (4) + Excellency (3) + Conviction (3)
[roll2]

Possible stunt: [roll3]

Including surcharges for using Earth-Aspect Charms, that should cost Braga... 9m and 1 WP, and I'll spend the essence from personal, since Braga's being carried. I'm also going to claim the essence from that last stunt in order to help balance that cost out.

Whether Braga can actually keep up this connection is... ambiguous. The distance isn't actually a problem, since he's got a range of four miles on this Charm, but maintaining the Charm requires concentration, and the text of the charm includes the lines "even riding on a slow-moving horse or sitting in
a sedan chair can cause her to miss important details. Any actions more complicated than that are completely impossible." Braga isn't going to be doing any complicated actions, but he's certainly not moving slowly... I'd say it's a matter of interpretation whether Versi's speed would merely render him incapable of getting much information out of the link until she puts him down or whether it would actually break the connection entirely... I still feel like the Charm is worth a try. If you'd like me to, I'm willing to make further rolls to try to maintain concentration.

As a final note, this is a Shaping effect, so if the Chimera really does have some kind of warped moonsilver tattoos... it might bounce off. We'll see.

[Ifni]

The Ancient Battleground

When the pillars are raised and set in place, Ireva walks over to read the inscriptions, and then draws a folded silk handkerchief from the pockets of her tattered coat. She takes out a few seedpods, splits them open, and crouches down to fold the seeds into the earth at the feet of the pillar. She takes out her waterskin and pours out a trickle to moisten the soil, before tucking everything back into her pockets, and standing up again.

Flowers for the fallen. The blooms are the right color for warriors, the brilliant scarlet of Mars' banner, and the climate here is close enough to Nexus that they should at least have a chance.

"Thank you," she says quietly to Braga, and then, "Should we head back to the camp now, Kazei? If the horses are still alive, they should be around here somewhere..."

I'm happy to wrap up here, too. Ireva would ask for a moment's private conversation with Fire Orchid when they get back to the camp: if granted, she has three things to say. We can play this out, but if you'd rather not, industrious, the gist is:
(1) Apologize for not consulting with FO before summoning Xet out to the battlefield. (She'll offer an explanation if FO asks, but if not she'll just apologize and leave it at that.)
(2) Say that she expects Fire Orchid wants to do something about Nalis and Sar, and she agrees, but she'll request that she or Zhou be consulted before setting up any Immaculate Hunts etc - she'll tell FO that she and Zhou have met those particular monks before, and have some knowledge of them.
(3) Explicitly say that she would like to learn more about Lookshyan customs, and she is also training to develop her sword-skills further, and she would be honored if Fire Orchid would be willing to instruct her on either front. (She means this. It has also occurred to her that FO may not have had much opportunity for sparring practice or combat training with other Exalts...)

[The_Snark]

Shard's nudge catches Isa's attention; she glances away from the phantoms, attempting to rearrange her thoughts into a semblance of Xet's. It wouldn't do to let that pretense slip with Shard, of all people. The Night Caste might not care that Xet was a mask, but that doesn't mean she wouldn't be disconcerted at what lies under it... Anyway, getting into Xet's mindset is good practice for trying to see inside Shard.

There's a moment of confusion; it's not immediately apparent what the other woman wants. She listens, brushing against Shard's thoughts...

Mind-reading! Just rolling to see how much Isa picks up. [roll0]

... oh. Concern. Actual concern. That's - unexpected. Maybe it shouldn't be, after the Solar went out of her way to rescue Xet (however unnecessarily) from the crash of the Frostwing, but - nonetheless. Disorienting.

She manages a tight smile, a flicker of animation in the eyes. Nothing much. I'll be fine.

[industrious]

Braga

As Braga retreats into the air under the arms of his adopted daughter, he slumps downwards as he attempts to replace his senses with those of another.

Unfortunately, the panicked flight towards the camp Versino is enacting makes the images swim and dance before the man's senses; at best, it is a confused blur.


[roll0]

You succeed! However, you aren't going to be getting anything until you're somewhere less exciting.

[Aevylmar]

Skandi slows as he approaches the deathknight, keeping his shield raised against more arrows.

Switching to Guard now, will switch to Aim on Tick 22 after his attack, will whack him on Tick 24 when I arrive at his location.

Rolling to resist poison... [roll0]
Stat Block to Copy-Post

All buffs are factored in.
Boosts: Deadly Beastman Form (+1 all physical attributes, heal a Bashing and a Lethal each round, +4L/4B soak, +4 yards/tick of move, +2 hearing), Relentless Lunar Fury (+1 sux, piercing, +3L damage, attacks do not have action penalties)
Penalties: None.

Attack Pools
Moonwrath - Speed 5, Accuracy 15 / 17, Damage 14L / 2, Rate 2
Axe - Speed 5, Accuracy 12 / 14, Damage 11L, Rate 2
Shieldbash - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 , Damage 8B, Rate 1
Dagger - Speed 4, Accuracy 13 / 15, Damage 7L, Rate 3
Iron Boot - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 / 13, Damage 12B, Rate 2
Note: (Fierce blows are currently off.)

Defense Pools
Moonwrath - 6 / 7
Axe - 5 / 6
Shield - 8 / 9
Dodge - 4

Essence: 3
Personal: 22/23
Peripherial: 0/52
Willpower: 5/10
Committed: 19

Getting Hit
Soak: 17L / 19B
Natural: 7L/10B
Hardness: 8L / 8B
Health Levels: *0/1/1/1/1/1*/1/1/1/2/2/4

[industrious]

Deathknight

His shield is raised in front, the better to ward off any whistling arrow. Yet the smooth expanse of moonsilver blocks the Wolf's vision, and Skandi cannot see the next flurry of arrows as they curve around the shield to piece his flesh.


Also, Skandi rolls Stamina+Resistance, difficulty 3 [roll0] and a poison die [roll1].

EDIT: Take 1 Bashing Damage

Flurry of "establish surprise, attack, establish surprise, attack, establish surprise," activating Splinter of the Void twice.

Establish Surprise: [roll2] + 2 sux = 9 sux


[roll3] + 5 sux = 11 sux
Activating Bloodthirsty Arrow for 2 post soak damage.


Establish Surprise: [roll4] + 2 sux = 6 sux

[roll5] + 5 sux = 13 sux
Activating Bloodthirsty Arrow for 2 post soak damage.


Establish Surprise: [roll6] + 2 sux = 4 sux

[Aevylmar]

When the arrows come, Skandi’s shield is raised, but that isn’t why the arrows miss.

No, the arrows miss because even if he is a death knight, he is a Knight of the city of Thorns, not a knight of the forest like Skandi. This isn’t the forest where Skandi was raised, but it is a forest where wolves can hunt, and Skandi knows the sounds of the forest.

Even if the death knight can shroud his movements, his steps push down grass, his footfalls break the stalks, his hands push aside leaves. Drawing back his bow disturbs the currents of the wind, and the flight of his arrow whistles fast enough for Skandi to catch it on his shield. No matter how he hides his presence, every time he moves, he changes the world, and no matter how poor his eyes are, every change in the world finds its way to the wolf’s ears.

Skandi is stunting his defense. He’s channeling Valor on the justification of “charge danger as efficiently as possible.”

I don't know if RLF successes apply, but they aren't included in my calculations.

Rolling Awareness against the first stealth
Base: 16d10[roll0]
Stunt: [roll1]
Total: 7 + 1/1/3
Rolling Awareness against the surprise attack roll, if the first roll fails
Base: 15d10[roll2]
Stunt: [roll3]
Total: 6 + 1/2/3
Rolling Awareness against the second stealth
Base: 16d10[roll4]
Stunt: [roll5]
Total: 10 + 1/1/2
Rolling Awareness against the surprise attack roll, if the first roll fails
Base: 15d10[roll6]
Stunt: [roll7]
Total: 7 + 0/0/0
Rolling Awareness against the third stealth
Base: 16d10[roll8]
Stunt: [roll9]
Total: 5 +1/0/0

DV is 14+stunt-onslaught against all attacks.

Stat Block to Copy-Post

All buffs are factored in.
Boosts: Deadly Beastman Form (+1 all physical attributes, heal a Bashing and a Lethal each round, +4L/4B soak, +4 yards/tick of move, +2 hearing), Relentless Lunar Fury (+1 sux, piercing, +3L damage, attacks do not have action penalties)
Penalties: None.

Attack Pools
Moonwrath - Speed 5, Accuracy 15 / 17, Damage 14L / 2, Rate 2
Axe - Speed 5, Accuracy 12 / 14, Damage 11L, Rate 2
Shieldbash - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 , Damage 8B, Rate 1
Dagger - Speed 4, Accuracy 13 / 15, Damage 7L, Rate 3
Iron Boot - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 / 13, Damage 12B, Rate 2
Note: (Fierce blows are currently off.)

Defense Pools
Moonwrath - 6 / 7
Axe - 5 / 6
Shield - 8 / 9
Dodge - 4

Essence: 3
Personal: 22/23
Peripherial: 0/52
Willpower: 4/10
Committed: 19

Getting Hit
Soak: 17L / 19B
Natural: 7L/10B
Hardness: 8L / 8B
Health Levels: 0/1/1/1/1/1/1/1/1/2/2/4

[Aevylmar]

Skandi's Probably Last Stand

The arrow hits, and Skandi charges, his wound already healing. The deathknight can't run any further, and will not learn his mistake - hiding from sight was not enough. The wolf’s hearing is sharp, and, as it will be seen, prove, his sword is even sharper.

Skandi is flurrying an attack with Moonwrath, two kicks, and another attack with Moonwrath, and channeling his Conviction 2 on this flurry. He has a -3 poison penalty on his attacks.

Base damage with the sword is 17LP/2. Base damage with the boots is 15BP/2.

Moonwrath 1: base 17, aim +2, poison -3, -4 flurry, +2 channel, +1s fury
Base: [roll0] + 1s = 7s
Stunt: [roll1] = +0/0/0s
Onslaught: -0

Kick 1: base 13, -3 poison, -5 flurry, +2 channel, +1s fury
Base: [roll2] + 1s = 5s
Stunt: [roll3] = +2/2/3s
Onslaught: -1

Kick 2: base 13, -3 poison, -6 flurry, +2 channel, +1s fury
Base: [roll4] + 1s = 4s
Stunt: [roll5] = +1/0/3s
Onslaught: -2

Moonwrath 2: base 17, -3 poison, -7 flurry, +2 channel, +1s fury

Base: [roll6] + 1s = 6s
Stunt: [roll7] = +0/0/0s
Onslaught: -3

Also, rolling for more poison: [roll8] perfect success
Stat Block to Copy-Post

All buffs are factored in.
Boosts: Deadly Beastman Form (+1 all physical attributes, heal a Bashing and a Lethal each round, +4L/4B soak, +4 yards/tick of move, +2 hearing), Relentless Lunar Fury (+1 sux, piercing, +3 damage, attacks do not have action penalties)
Penalties: None.

Attack Pools
Moonwrath - Speed 5, Accuracy 15 / 17, Damage 17LP / 2, Rate 2
Axe - Speed 5, Accuracy 12 / 14, Damage 14LP, Rate 2
Shieldbash - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 / 13, Damage 11BP, Rate 1
Dagger - Speed 4, Accuracy 13 / 15, Damage 10P, Rate 3
Iron Boot - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 / 13, Damage 15BP, Rate 2
Note: (Fierce blows are currently off.)

Defense Pools
Moonwrath - 6 / 7
Axe - 5 / 6
Shield - 8 / 9
Dodge - 4

Essence: 3
Personal: 22/23
Peripherial: 0/52
Willpower: 4/10
Committed: 19

Getting Hit
Soak: 17L / 19B
Natural: 7L/10B
Hardness: 8L / 8B
Health Levels: 0/1/1/1/1/1/1/1/1/2/2/4

[industrious]

Deathknight

Skandi smells the metal on the deathknight's armor, hears the rustle of grass against the Abyssal's boots. His blade blurs to attack, but the deathknight waits until the last possible second before pivoting away. The Lunar does not notice that the unseen foe is no longer in the path of his blade, and as it slices through air, Skandi feels a hard shove against his breastplate, sending him to the ground.


The Deathknight is going to channel Temperance for his DV, and activate Foe-Shaming Defense.


[roll0] = 14 sux, unblockable. If it hits, Skandi will go prone (-1 external penalty to all physical rolls/DV).


EDIT: Given Skandi's (really bad) first roll, the Deathknight dodges. And flurry-breaks.

[industrious]

Deathknight

As Skandi stumbles prone onto the ground, he hears the deathknight speak for the first time, feels hot breath against his ear.

"Tough little puppy, aren't you?"

The bowstring thuds twice more.


The Deathknight is going to flurry two attacks, then attempt to reestablish surprise. Activating Splinter of the Void twice for each attack.


[roll0] + 5 sux = 9 sux



[roll1] + 5 sux = 9 sux



[roll2] + 2 sux = 5 sux

[Aevylmar]

Skandi would give some sort of clever quip in response to that. Skandi would say something heroic and inspirational about how he's tough enough to stand against the forces of darkness, probably phrased better than that.

The wolf is too busy protecting its pack to screw around like that. Instead it rolls out of the way, shield up, ready to rise with its moonsilver claws raised.

Channeling Compassion! MUST SURVIVE TO BUY TIME FOR FRIENDS WHO I DON'T KNOW HAVE ALREADY ESCAPED!

Hoping for a good stunt; DV is 12+stunt, counting the prone penalty. Rolling Awareness, including channeling bonus and bonus for him trying to hide in the middle of combat, to spot him.

[roll0]

Stat Block to Copy-Post

All buffs are factored in.
Boosts: Deadly Beastman Form (+1 all physical attributes, heal a Bashing and a Lethal each round, +4L/4B soak, +4 yards/tick of move, +2 hearing), Relentless Lunar Fury (+1 sux, piercing, +3L damage, attacks do not have action penalties)
Penalties: None.

Attack Pools
Moonwrath - Speed 5, Accuracy 15 / 17, Damage 14L / 2, Rate 2
Axe - Speed 5, Accuracy 12 / 14, Damage 11L, Rate 2
Shieldbash - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 / 13, Damage 8B, Rate 1
Dagger - Speed 4, Accuracy 13 / 15, Damage 7L, Rate 3
Iron Boot - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 / 13, Damage 12B, Rate 2
Note: (Fierce blows are currently off.)

Defense Pools
Moonwrath - 6 / 7
Axe - 5 / 6
Shield - 8 / 9
Dodge - 4

Essence: 3
Personal: 24/23
Peripherial: 0/52
Willpower: 3/10
Committed: 19

Getting Hit
Soak: 17L / 19B
Natural: 7L/10B
Hardness: 8L / 8B
Health Levels: 0/1/1/1/1/1/1/1/1/2/2/4

[Aevylmar]

The wolf can smell the hot breath of the deathknight, smell his hot blood. His arrows are fast. This is a challenge.

There's no inner monologue, no heroic speech. Just motion, swift and unending, as the Wolf rises. As he vaults to his feet, he whips his sword around twice; first slicing through his enemy’s legs, then up through his torso before kicking off the deathknight’s chest with both feet to land, facing the charging chimera as the silver maelstrom of chaos meets the wolf pack.

Flurrying rising (spending a mote on Secure Cat Stepping, since it isn’t automatic there), then flurrying two attacks with Moonwrath and two kicks. I'm channeling Valor on this flurry and burning 10 motes each on each of the first two attacks.

Damage remains 17LP/2 for the sword and 15LB for the boot. If any damage rolls with 3 or more dice get less than a quarter successes, I’ll use the Third Strength Excellency on them.

Base is 16 for the sword or 13 for the boot. -2 for poison. -x/6/7/8/9 for flurry, so that brings me to 8/7/3/2 with penalties. +10 from motes on the first two attacks is 18/17/3/2. +Valor 5 is 23/22/8/7.

First attack has 23 dice. Second has 22. Third has 8. Fourth has 7.
[roll0] + 1s = 12s
[roll1] + 0/0/1s
Onslaught: -0

[roll2] + + 1s = 10s
[roll3] + 0/1/2s
Onslaught: -1

[roll4] + 1s = 4s
[roll5] + 1/2/2s
Onslaught: -2

[roll6] + 1s = 8s
[roll7] + 1/2/2s
Onslaught: -3

Stat Block to Copy-Post

All buffs other than RLF are factored in.
Boosts: Deadly Beastman Form (+1 all physical attributes, heal a Bashing and a Lethal each round, +4L/4B soak, +4 yards/tick of move, +2 hearing), Relentless Lunar Fury (+1 sux, piercing, +3L damage, attacks do not have action penalties)
Penalties: None.

Attack Pools
Moonwrath - Speed 5, Accuracy 15 / 17, Damage 14L / 2, Rate 2
Axe - Speed 5, Accuracy 12 / 14, Damage 11L, Rate 2
Shieldbash - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 / 13, Damage 8B, Rate 1
Dagger - Speed 4, Accuracy 13 / 15, Damage 7L, Rate 3
Iron Boot - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 / 13, Damage 12B, Rate 2
Note: (Fierce blows are currently off.)

Defense Pools
Moonwrath - 6 / 7
Axe - 5 / 6
Shield - 8 / 9
Dodge - 4

Essence: 3
Personal: 6/23
Peripherial: 0/52
Willpower: 3/10
Committed: 19

Getting Hit
Soak: 17L / 19B
Natural: 7L/10B
Hardness: 8L / 8B
Health Levels: 0/1/1/1/1/1/1/1/1/2/2/4

[Inspector Valin]

Versi was silent as she and Braga drew closer to the camp, the Scarlet Crane still blazing through the sky above her as she cut through the midnight sky. The Young Lunar's focus wasn't on the man she was carrying, or the world around her, but on the problem of how this all had happened. Braga had always told her to think things through when she couldn't fight them directly, but trying to untangle this puzzle was not helping the young Chosen. This was too much of a coincidence to ascribe purely to chance, but why would the Silver Pact try to attack them? Was this the Lunars' doing? If not, where was the elder they'd been intending to visit? Had someone turned the Chimera against them, or had that simply been chance?

The young girl's brief reverie was broken by the flaring of golden light, growing rapidly closer. Looking down, it was clear that they'd drawn closer to the camp; she could see the tents and campfires laid out beneath her now. They were safe. She'd gotten Braga out of the line of fire, and the Kazei and the others could help Skandi. She'd gotten here so quickly... there might be a chance yet. Hope sprung in Versino's heart at the sight of a golden light flaring in the distance, far stronger than the torches. She could make this work. With a final deep breath, the young girl met her passenger's gaze.

"Mela catch you, father. Stay safe."

Smiling for the first time in a little while, Versi gently kissed Braga on the forehead before loosening her grip, letting the air aspact fall towards the ground. She lingered long enough to ensure the air aspect was able to flare his anima, before darting off towards the distant light. Ireva or Fire Orchid, she didn't care. They needed reinforcements, whoever she could find would be useful.

Sorry, gang, busy time. Shifting between various health appointments, going back on unemployment benefit, and dealing with family stuff. :smallfrown: Bad times.

[industrious]

Versino

The Lunar sprints into camp, searching for allies. In mid-air, she nearly crashes into Jade, aloft on wings of fire.


I'm going to roll to see who she finds first.
1: Zhou
2: Isa
3: Jade
4: Ireva
1d4


Skandi

The deathknight attempts to pivot away, and lashes out with another kick between the flickers of Skandi's blade. The darkness around the Wolf is illuminated only by the Lunar's anima; there are shadows aplenty for the creature of darkness to hide.


He's going to stunt (2 die) and use his flurrybreaker on Skandi's defense.


[roll0] = 16

[Ifni]

Earlier

It had been another evening of meandering discussions following a fraught and tiring day, on the side of the camp where Zhou and Ireva's tent was pitched, and a somewhat-out-of-place Realm emissary might find welcome. That's all it had been, until Isa had stiffened and turned her head toward the forest, and a few moments later the sky had lit up with streamers of silver fire, a pale shimmering aurora blotting out the stars.

Mere moments later Ireva had been running toward the edge of the camp, Resolve in her hands, but acutely aware of the limitations of her feet as a means of transport. Horses would be quicker if they could find them, but... those burning silver columns of light did not look like they flared within the camp's boundaries, or even just beyond its periphery.

And then one of them had become a silver comet, growing rapidly brighter, and it had become clear that the battle was about to come to them, one way or another.

A spark of Essence and Ireva had called up golden fire to surround herself, a beacon for Skandi and Versino - or a target for the foe. And kept running toward the point where a silver comet arched down to earth, because every yard might count.

Okay. I am stunt-declaring that Ireva was chatting with Isa, and that with the fall of night, the conversation had moved from the edge of the camp (see googledoc) back toward Ireva and Zhou's tent; even if the main conversation was over, Isa would've been invited to come along and get dinner / keep talking, because Ireva doesn't like Xet being isolated (and that's also perfectly compatible with Xet's cover). Unless Zhou has a reason to be elsewhere, he's probably in the same area, and if they weren't actually in the same tent Ireva would've spent the intervening 30 seconds finding him / calling to him (with WCWT, if necessary).

Hopefully this gives a reasonable justification for those three PCs to be in the same location, and since Ireva is flaring, it should be easy for Versino to find her (as she already declared).

[industrious]

Versino, Retconned

As the little Lunar swoops in for a landing, she spots the golden glow of Ireva's anima from on high, and should she wish, make her way there easily.

[Inspector Valin]

Versi gritted her teeth, wings flapping furiously as the young lunar darted through rows of canvas tents, the fabric blown back by the speed of her passing. She'd set Braga safely on the ground, that task was done, now she needed to find the others. Dragon's grace, I hope they're ready. The golden light was promising, and she'd seen a fiery figure cutting through the sky on her way into camp, but Versino was too on edge to know for sure. She just needed to get this done. But Ireva was some distance from her regular tent, and trying to navigate the lanes at camp whilst avoiding passing soldiery was not as easy as Versino would've liked.

Finally she saw Ireva, the Solar having made her way towards the edge of camp. Trying to slam her feet to the ground, the young Lunar stumbled, falling onto one knee. She took a second to catch herself and rise to her feet before turning to Ireva, and the now visible Zhou. "Skandi's in trouble. Ambush. Monster." She could barely get the words out. Taking a breath, Versi gestured limply in the direction of the fight. Flexing her wings slightly and wincing a little at the straing, Versino held out a hand towards the couple, face still set in a frown. "I can get you there quickly. Are you ready?"

[Ifni]

"Do you know where Braga is? And how many of us can you carry?" Ireva asks sharply, the words snapping out rapidly, as she slides her sword back into her jacket and moves toward Versino. "Zhou, Xet -" She glances at her husband and her friend, and only a slight quickening of her breath betrays the fear, "- you should go with her, you're better fighters than I am; I'd like to come, but someone who knows the Wind-Carried Words Technique should probably stay with the camp..." Since Braga isn't here, he's an obvious candidate to stay, she could contact him in flight - but it only matters if Versino can carry three people, which seems a stretch for one so small.

No time for what sort of monster, no time for what were the two of you doing outside the camp, although those are questions she'll certainly be asking later if they all survive.

As a note - as described in my last post, Ireva was outside the tent and running to intercept Versi (it wouldn't make much sense for her to light up her anima and stay inside).

[Inspector Valin]

Versi grimaces, looking into the tent and seeing Xet for the first time, drawing up to the group. The faux-Immaculate was the last person she wanted to have to deal with right now, with Skandi in danger and her true alliances unknown. Xet had spared Versi during the flight of the Frostwing, but a lot had changed since that point. A glare at Ireva made the little Lunar's feelings about the Solar's strange companion more than clear. If they had the time, Versino would've likely protested the idea of bringing all three Chosen to the battle, perhaps simply trying to haul Zhou and Ireva away without giving them the chance to complain.

But no. There wasn't time. Instead, sighing briefly, Versi extended both arms: one to Ireva, one to the pair of Exalts still within the tent. "Father's back at camp. You can all come. Take my arm." Once the trio had taken her arms, the young Lunar took one final breath, spreading her scarlet wings wide with a great flap and muttering to the three companions. "Hold on tight." With those three words and a mighty beating of wings, Versino hauled Ireva, Zhou and Xet into the air, scarlet feathers falling behind her as she climbed upwards, rising above the camp faster than any mortal bird could've managed. Groaning a little at the strain as the party members shifted their hold, Versi soon brought herself level, darting past the darkened treetops of the forest as she begun to drag the three rescuers towards the distant silver light of Skandi, the wind whistling fierce around the three of them.

[Ascension]

Braga's vision steadies somewhat as the whirling, hurried flight comes to an end and he finds solid earth beneath his feet again, but his immediate surroundings are still dim shadows... the better part of him is caught up in the alien perceptions of the chimeric monster to whom he tied his senses, watching (feeling, perceiving) Skandi now grappling with an imperceptible foe.

Versino isn't at his side... Versino... he hopes she's not doing anything foolish. Will she go back for Skandi now, to drag him away from the fight? Or try to muster reinforcements? She doesn't know her limits sometimes, and with her injury...

He takes a step to follow her and two worlds swim around him, both the camp and the distant clearing. No, he can't go after her in this state. He'll just have to trust her to do her best... and he'll have to trust her to survive doing her best.

His hand scrabbles for the support of a camp chair he can dimly perceive to his right, and he calls out blindly to the Kazei's soldiers.

"Call up the men! Take a message to the commander! The enemy is near!"

[industrious]

Braga's vision steadies somewhat as the whirling, hurried flight comes to an end and he finds solid earth beneath his feet again, but his immediate surroundings are still dim shadows... the better part of him is caught up in the alien perceptions of the chimeric monster to whom he tied his senses, watching (feeling, perceiving) Skandi now grappling with an imperceptible foe.

Versino isn't at his side... Versino... he hopes she's not doing anything foolish. Will she go back for Skandi now, to drag him away from the fight? Or try to muster reinforcements? She doesn't know her limits sometimes, and with her injury...

He takes a step to follow her and two worlds swim around him, both the camp and the distant clearing. No, he can't go after her in this state. He'll just have to trust her to do her best... and he'll have to trust her to survive doing her best.

His hand scrabbles for the support of a camp chair he can dimly perceive to his right, and he calls out blindly to the Kazei's soldiers.

"Call up the men! Take a message to the commander! The enemy is near!"

Braga

His senses hazy, he is barely certain that his words carry through the air; Braga senses motion and movement around him, but cannot pay much attention to his surroundings. His vision is firmly fixed to that of the Chimera.

Chimera

The Wolf had outpaced it, but the Creature now advances upon its prey. The Wolf lashes out with moonsilver blade, and the black blood of the Creature's master etches furrows onto the ground; yet the mighty blow has left the Wolf vulnerable. The Creature pounces, and claw and fang and spiked tail bear down upon Skandi.


Activating Octopus and Spider Barrage, and Channeling Valor.


[roll0]
12 sux

[roll1]
12 sux


[roll2]
17 sux


[roll3]
14 sux


[roll4]
13 sux

[Ifni]

"Wait, Versino, I want to -" But it's too late, the ground falling away beneath them in great rolling jolts with the powerful beats of the little Lunar's red-feathered wings.

Ireva clings on for dear life, and tries to focus her Essence. When she'd imagined sending messages in flight, she'd been envisaging something a little more... sedate. But what's the worst that can happen, after all?

You could lose your grip and fall to your death.

The Solar tries not to look down, even as she rebukes her errant subconscious, Don't be silly, I've survived far longer falls.

But if you fall here, you won't be able to reach Skandi in time to make any difference.

... all right, that is a better argument. Let's try to avoid falling then, shall we? But she has to at least try to warn Fire Orchid. The Eclipse grits her teeth as she reaches for the winds, beginning to compose her message mentally - although every wingbeat seems to drive the thoughts out of her mind, especially when she happens to be looking at the ground at the time.

This is a little ridiculous, you know.

She glances over at Zhou, who is somehow managing to look relaxed and even poised while dangling in the air. (The rapidly moving air, at that; it feels almost like experiencing the effect of Nalis' katas again.) How is he doing that?

... ah. Wait, I see.

Like riding a trotting horse, perhaps. Ireva tries to relax, to move easily with Versino's wingbeats rather than tensing and resisting them. There's a distinct rhythm to the Lunar child's flight - again, like riding, although surely no horse ever traveled so swiftly.

In the moments of stillness between the wingbeats, Ireva draws on her own golden Essence; at least the air blasting into her face makes it easy to sense the wind she seeks to manipulate. In a sudden flash of intuition, she realizes that even more than riding, it's like breathing: between strokes, she inhales the crisp night air and draws in Essence simultaneously, and on the downbeat, releases both Essence and air to shape words that dance on the wind.

Trying to get off a Wind-Carried Words Technique to Fire Orchid, as we fly; I'll spend a WP for a bonus success on the Dex+Athletics roll. If she succeeds, I'll edit the message into this post; if she fails, she'll probably try again on the second set of six ticks, if it'll take us 12 to get to the battle.

[roll0] Dexterity
[roll1] possible stunt

Difficulty is (3+2)/2 = 2, I think, or 3 if it's rounding up.

EDIT: So long as that's at least a 1-die stunt, that should be enough even if the difficulty rounds up. Can you let me know if it's 2-die, industrious, for Essence/WP regain?

Kazei, monster ambushed Skandi. Going to help with Zhou, Versino, Xet. Braga still in camp. Possible distraction; rally troops? If need us, call with flares.

The Wind-Carried Words Technique would be better, but the flares will do, in a pinch. Even if Braga doesn't yet know what's going on, the Kazei's troops should be able to find him quickly enough - and if he does know, then he can give her a proper report.

[Aevylmar]

The fanged claws and spiked tail come down in a flurry of blows, and the Wolf hurls himself aside to evade it, letting the claws crash through a tree to slow them down and buy him time to get his shield up. As the second wave of blows comes in, he flicks his still-bloody sword in the monster's face, letting it taste its master's blood, before catching the blows on his shield and hurling them back.


Using my last Valor channel on the final defense and hoping this qualifies as a 2-die stunt. I don’t see any other way to raise my defense, so hoping that’s enough. 9+5+stunt.
Stat Block to Copy-Post

All buffs other than RLF are factored in.
Boosts: Deadly Beastman Form (+1 all physical attributes, heal a Bashing and a Lethal each round, +4L/4B soak, +4 yards/tick of move, +2 hearing), Relentless Lunar Fury (+1 sux, piercing, +3L damage, attacks do not have action penalties)
Penalties: Prone (-1 sux to non-reflexive actions).

Attack Pools
Moonwrath - Speed 5, Accuracy 15 / 17, Damage 14L / 2, Rate 2
Axe - Speed 5, Accuracy 12 / 14, Damage 11L, Rate 2
Shieldbash - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 / 13, Damage 8B, Rate 1
Dagger - Speed 4, Accuracy 13 / 15, Damage 7L, Rate 3
Iron Boot - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 / 13, Damage 12B, Rate 2
Note: (Fierce blows are currently off.)

Defense Pools
Moonwrath - 6 / 7
Axe - 5 / 6
Shield - 8 / 9
Dodge - 4

Essence: 3
Personal: 16/23 (+ rewards from last stunt, value unknown)
Peripherial: 0/52
Willpower: 2/10
Committed: 19

Getting Hit
Soak: 17L / 19B
Natural: 7L/10B
Hardness: 8L / 8B
Health Levels: 0/1/1/1/1/1/1/1/1/2/2/4

[industrious]

Chimera

Unfortunately, while the spray of blood holds the monster at bay for a moment, the creature has too much momentum to stop. His shield raised, the Wolf keeps the claws at bay, but the spines along the Chimera's legs rake at the gaps in Skandi's armor, and that whip-thin tail pierces the center of the Wolf's hand.


The last 3 attacks hit, but Skandi's soak reduces it to minimum damage for six dice of post-soak damage. The creature is going to use Unstoppable Lunar Wound on all six of those levels.

Please take 6 levels of damage.


The Rescue Party

It is not hard to set course for the battle; the lights of the two Lunar's animae illuminate the darkness with reflected moonlight. As they hurry towards their target, they see a great formless shape rise above the treeline, twisted and wrong, before it fades into indistinct light once more.

Deathknight

As Skandi reels from the attack, the Deathknight lines up another shot, and the screaming skulls of the long-departed ghost through the Wolf's armor to clutch at his very soul.


Using Piercing Ghost Barb with a frog-crotch arrow, and two applications of Splinter of the Void. The attack is unblockable except to unarmed parries, and bypasses all non-natural soak. Skandi is at -2 external penalty due to invisibility.


[roll0] + 5 sux = 12 sux.

[Ascension]

Braga sinks to his knees, a look of abject horror dawning on his face. He can feel it, he can feel it all. He can't control it, but he can feel it. The claws scrabbling at the edges of Skandi's shield, the piercing tail that draws the Wolf's blood... he feels them as extensions of his own body. Are his lips murmuring "No" or howling in victory? It's hard for him to say.

He wanted to know Skandi's fate, but is Braga actually prepared to witness it firsthand?

[Maugan Ra]

Almost from the moment that the sky lights up with the furious glow of animas, Zhou is preparing for battle. It is an old reaction, drilled into him by the military traditions of Lookshy - large expenditures of essence means that combat is occurring, and if there is combat then he needs to be prepared. He barely even has to look at Ireva to realize that she has realized the same, and as his wife fills the air with golden light he concentrates and reaches for the ground underfoot.

By the time that Versino lands his skin has already undergone the metamorphosis, the strength of the unyielding stone flooding along his limbs and through his veins, reinforcing his body against any kind of potential trauma. He looks closer to a statue than a living man, a pillar of marble and jade that gleams softly in the light of Ireva's soul.

"Take us there." He says simply, reaching one and grabbing Versino's arm with one hand, his other holding Aurora ready but angled away from the others, for fear of accidentally damaging them in flight. Then they are away, the air screaming as the Lunar's might propels them faster than nature should allow.

So before Versino gets here, Zhou is going to react to the light of the anima banners on the horizon and activate Impervious Skin of Stone meditation. Spending two motes to boost both my soaks by 4 for the scene, to a starting level of 17B/16L.

Now, let's see if I can activate some of my other charms while in flight. I'll start with just the one, since I'm not sure how many actions I can try to fit in before we arrive.

Fire is a mutable thing, perhaps the element most effected by changes in the environment, an attribute that is a curse as often as it is a blessing. A mountain will not shift before the howling wind, but a fire might gutter and die... or it might blaze all the brighter.

Surrounded by the sun and moon and stars, the fire in Zhou's soul reacts, roaring with elemental energy and sending his heart thundering in his chest. They are flying towards a battle with some unknown but serious threat, born aloft on silver wings and hurtling across the sky with ridiculous speed, and despite it all Zhou finds himself beginning to smile. This is what he was born for, the purpose behind all his training and storied legacy. Just about every variety of the Celestial Exalted is here in some fashion, and it falls to him to represent the Terrestrials in turn. A daunting task to be sure, but one which he relishes, for the fields of war are an environment that he understands better than any other.

He is a Child of Hesiash, and as far as the world is concerned, he is invincible.

Trying to activate Aura of Invincibility, the presence charm. Thought about trying for Defense from Anathaema, but that would require a difficulty 5 roll, whereas this is difficulty 3. Plus, ablative health levels seem like a useful thing to have here...

Dex+Athletics, adding four dice from the first excellency because I might as well: [roll0]

[Aevylmar]

Skandi reels backwards from the Chimera's attack, and then he smirks, the only break in his bestial countenance, as he sees the deathknight firing the arrow reflected in his mirrored shield.

He throws his sword straight up into the sky and throws out a hand, catching the arrow with his bare hand an inch from his head.

There's no sound but the arrow breaking, then being tossed aside, until Moonwrath lands in his hand once more. Then the battle is back on.

Base unarmed DV is 8. Purchasing Conviction up to 3 by paying 6 xp, channeling it*, and then paying 4m on the 1st excellency to boost my DV.

[roll0]

The justification for the purchase is "Skandi is being motivated to, quite possibly, die, on the grounds of his Motivation, so his Conviction ought to be higher." The justification for the channeling is "Skandi is currently acting to fulfill his Motivation.
Stat Block to Copy-Post

All buffs are factored in.
Boosts: Deadly Beastman Form (+1 all physical attributes, heal a Bashing and a Lethal each round, +4L/4B soak, +4 yards/tick of move, +2 hearing), Relentless Lunar Fury (+1 sux, piercing, +3L damage, attacks do not have action penalties)
Penalties: Prone (-1 sux to non-reflexive actions)..

Attack Pools
Moonwrath - Speed 5, Accuracy 15 / 17, Damage 14L / 2, Rate 2
Axe - Speed 5, Accuracy 12 / 14, Damage 11L, Rate 2
Shieldbash - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 / 13, Damage 8B, Rate 1
Dagger - Speed 4, Accuracy 13 / 15, Damage 7L, Rate 3
Iron Boot - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 / 13, Damage 12B, Rate 2
Note: (Fierce blows are currently off.)

Defense Pools
Moonwrath - 6 / 7
Axe - 5 / 6
Shield - 8 / 9
Dodge - 4

Essence: 3
Personal: 16/23
Peripherial: 0/52
Willpower: 2/10
Committed: 19

Getting Hit
Soak: 17L / 19B
Natural: 7L/10B
Hardness: 8L / 8B
Health Levels: 0/1/1/1/1/1/1/1/1/2/2/4

[Aevylmar]

... And it's back on with a single lethal blow. Skandi can hear the deathknight's heart beating; no matter where he flees or how he dodges, he carries with him a beacon that loudly, clearly, signals his every move.

Then Moonwrath is through the heart. And the beat stops.

Skandi is throwing 11 motes into an attack against the deathknight and channeling Conviction to balance out the poison penalty and hit his cap. One blow with Moonwrath. Let's end this. Will 3rd if I have to.

Base: [roll0] + 1s = 14s
Stunt: [roll1] = 1/1/1s

Stat Block to Copy-Post

All buffs are factored in.
Boosts: Deadly Beastman Form (+1 all physical attributes, heal a Bashing and a Lethal each round, +4L/4B soak, +4 yards/tick of move, +2 hearing), Relentless Lunar Fury (+1 sux, piercing, +3L damage, attacks do not have action penalties)
Penalties:

Attack Pools
Moonwrath - Speed 5, Accuracy 15 / 17, Damage 14L / 2, Rate 2
Axe - Speed 5, Accuracy 12 / 14, Damage 11L, Rate 2
Shieldbash - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 / 13, Damage 8B, Rate 1
Dagger - Speed 4, Accuracy 13 / 15, Damage 7L, Rate 3
Iron Boot - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 / 13, Damage 12B, Rate 2
Note: (Fierce blows are currently off.)

Defense Pools
Moonwrath - 6 / 7
Axe - 5 / 6
Shield - 8 / 9
Dodge - 4

Essence: 3
Personal: 5/23
Peripherial: 0/52
Willpower: 2/10
Committed: 19

Getting Hit
Soak: 17L / 19B
Natural: 7L/10B
Hardness: 8L / 8B
Health Levels: 0/1/1/1/1/1/1/1/1/2/2/4

[Maugan Ra]

The little Lunar has a surprising turn of speed at her disposal when the need is sufficiently dire, but even so it still takes time to cross the distance from the camp to the ongoing fight. Time enough for Zhou to get a good look at their destination... and more specifically, the gigantic shadowy creatures of silver light battling above it.

"Well. This is definitely going to get ugly." He mutters, half to himself. "No holding back then."

The charm he calls upon now is not the easiest technique to use while clinging to the back of a speeding silver lightning bolt. The presence of so many different types of essence around him is a catalyst beyond compare, but it takes a certain level of focus to put that catalyst to proper work and channel the required energy to the correct locations. Empowering his own body does, after all, carry with it all the risks of feeding a stream of volatile energy through one's own internal organs, and ordinarily he would never make the attempt.

Now, though, he has little choice. The fight on the ground is raging wildly, and he will not likely have the time to spare once he arrives. So, holding on with a grip that is deceptively loose for something of its surety, Zhou closes his eyes and concentrates.

OK, we have twelve ticks to work with until we reach the fight it seems, and I have little to gain by not making full use of them. I will therefore attempt to squeeze in an activation of Defense From Anathema Technique as well, spending two motes on the First Athletics excellency to hopefully make sure it activates.

The difficulty is either four or five, depending on whether we round in a way advantageous to me.
Dex + Athletics: [roll0]
Stunt: [roll1]

[Inspector Valin]

Versi has been silent during the flight, bar an occasional grunt as she strained against the bulk of her three passengers. Her mild scowl briefly faded however, as she saw Bright Shard flapping ahead of her on those golden metal wings of hers. With a faint grin, Versi drew closer, gently shifting her head down so the Solar's arm rested around her shoulder. With a grin towards the older woman, the young Lunar darted forward at perhaps three times the speed her companion had been doing. The danger forgotten for a few seconds. Versino of Malfeas laughed, the sound of good humour briefly ringing out across the darkened forest. Through all the pain, the worry and the exhaustion... it felt good to be able to fly this fast.

The young girl's good cheer faded swiftly however, as the silver anima light drew closer. She wasn't sure what would be waiting for them in the midst of the storm of soul light, but the silver meant Skandi still stood. That was something. Face set, and taking a deep breath before hand, Versi spoke; breaking the silence of their breakneck fight for the first time. "Skandi said the monster was a Chimera. It was like an animal, snarling, biting, not talking. We thought it was on its own, but someone started shooting arrows at Skandi. He told me to get Father to safety, and then bring you here to help"

Looking back up, and then glancing down, the young Lunar hummed to herself, realizing something strange. "They've moved. I don't know what that means." Perhaps Skandi had found the archer? Versi glanced down, looking between Ireva and Zhou. "Should I let you go up here? Or bring you in closer?"

[Ifni]

Chimera. For a moment Ireva's grip loosens in reflexive shock; her stomach dips as she begins to slide, before recovering her hold (and holding tighter this time). The feeling of sickness doesn't abate: true Anathema, like an animal, an Exalt warped into a monster by their Exaltation...

"Get us as close as you can, please," the Solar answers grimly, her gaze on the twisting tempest of silver light and formless shadow that lies ahead. "And be ready to take Skandi away to recover, if he'll let you." She thinks, but doesn't say aloud, if he's been flaring this long and the fight's not yet over, he's probably running low on resources. But he still lives, at least.

Ireva can cope with getting dropped off from a height, but it would mean burning 8m immediately to avoid taking damage from the fall (and I think the other PCs would likewise have to spend a non-negligible amount of motes), so if it's easy to set them down and won't cost action ticks due to flurrying, that might be better. If it will cost a number of ticks, yeah, I would suggest just dropping them :smallwink:

industrious, would it be possible for me to stunt drawing my sword on the way down? Ireva does have six ticks when she's not doing anything during the flight (since she doesn't have any Charms to activate other than WCWT). It seems a bit implausible for her to be holding a grand daiklave while hanging onto Versi's arm, but possibly she could draw it as she's dropped off?

Also, stunt award for the roll to activate WCWT?

Snark, did Isa want to activate Throne Shadow Form on the way?

[industrious]

... And it's back on with a single lethal blow. Skandi can hear the deathknight's heart beating; no matter where he flees or how he dodges, he carries with him a beacon that loudly, clearly, signals his every move.

Then Moonwrath is through the heart. And the beat stops.

Skandi is throwing 11 motes into an attack against the deathknight and channeling Conviction to balance out the poison penalty and hit his cap. One blow with Moonwrath. Let's end this. Will 3rd if I have to.

Base: [roll0] + 1s = 14s
Stunt: [roll1] = 1/1/1s

Stat Block to Copy-Post

All buffs are factored in.
Boosts: Deadly Beastman Form (+1 all physical attributes, heal a Bashing and a Lethal each round, +4L/4B soak, +4 yards/tick of move, +2 hearing), Relentless Lunar Fury (+1 sux, piercing, +3L damage, attacks do not have action penalties)
Penalties:

Attack Pools
Moonwrath - Speed 5, Accuracy 15 / 17, Damage 14L / 2, Rate 2
Axe - Speed 5, Accuracy 12 / 14, Damage 11L, Rate 2
Shieldbash - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 / 13, Damage 8B, Rate 1
Dagger - Speed 4, Accuracy 13 / 15, Damage 7L, Rate 3
Iron Boot - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 / 13, Damage 12B, Rate 2
Note: (Fierce blows are currently off.)

Defense Pools
Moonwrath - 6 / 7
Axe - 5 / 6
Shield - 8 / 9
Dodge - 4

Essence: 3
Personal: 5/23
Peripherial: 0/52
Willpower: 2/10
Committed: 19

Getting Hit
Soak: 17L / 19B
Natural: 7L/10B
Hardness: 8L / 8B
Health Levels: 0/1/1/1/1/1/1/1/1/2/2/4


Deathknight Defense

The Wolf lunges forward, and the deathknight twists to dodge. Yet even as he pivots away, the daiklave bites deeply into the man's forearm, sawing away at an unseen appendage.


Skandi hits!

15 sux - 2 (invisibility) - (base DV 9 + 5 (3rd Dodge)) + 1 action penalty + 1 wound penalty = 1 net sux
Base of 15L damage + 1 net sux - 9 soak + 4 Piercing = 11 damage.

[roll0]

5 levels of damage. Oh my!


Chimera

As the blood of its ally drips onto the ground, the beast lets loose a primal screech that shakes the earth and echoes in the sky. Loss and pain and rage mingle freely in this sound as the creature's many mouths let loose in their undulations.

The beast bears upon Skandi, his blade still embedded in the deathknight, and crimson claws stained with the Wolf's blood come again, eager for a second helping.


Another Octopus and Spider Barrage, Channeling Compassion. Spending Solar Bond (heh!) dice. Activating Unstoppable Lunar Wound for 2 automatic levels of lethal damage for each attack.


[roll1]



[roll2]



[roll3]



[roll4]

[Inspector Valin]

Versi nodded to Ireva's request, frowning slightly as she begun to concentrate. She still didn't have much practice manoeuvring with her wings. It was fine up above the canopy like this, but darting through the tree trunks and branches would be harder. And possibly enough to outright stop them if she wasn't careful. Still, her anima and Skandi's alike gave the forest some light, and she was already flying as fast as was possible, with three surprisingly heavy Chosen in tow. She just needed to keep herself going a little bit longer, make it to the clearing... they still seemed to be close to it.

Thankfully, Versi's wings were quick, and Luna's light through Skandi ensured she knew the way. Within seconds, they were above the clearing, the all too long mile having finally passed them by. Across from them, looking like children's playthings from up above, were the combatants, still moving as quickly as ever. The Chimera, Skandi, and a third: cloaked in shadow. Without so much as pausing for a breath, Versi plunged downwards, red feathers descending to the ground as she sped towards the fight with all the speed she could manage. The ground rushed up towards the group like it had on the day the Frostwing fell, drawing closer and closer...

Until with one final groan from the Lunar, it came to a halt. And with that; Isa, Ireva, Jade and Zhou stood upright upon the grass, a small figure with aching arms caught betwixt the trio, flapping her wings a little forlornly. Versi couldn't bring herself to look out towards the battle any more, the young Exalt was busy for the moment trying to catch her breath, nursing her arms a little. Even for Versino, that had been a trying task. She was close to her limit.

Well.... battle time! Versi's already rolled in and not fighting. She's dropping the party off on the ground, and her dive speed is at the point that it should be possible to get them in there fairly quick.

[Maugan Ra]

Almost before Versi has touched down, Zhou is in motion, armoured limbs almost seeming to blur as he races towards the fight on a trail of embers. There is blood on the ground, and the blazing columns of essence and silver light stand mute testament to the power already expended by the combatants. That this has been a vicious and hard-fought battle seems undeniable, that Skandi is in dire need of reinforcements and the attentions of a medic even more so.

Well, he can attend to the former immediately, and hopefully his skills can serve as the latter once the injured Lunar is dragged away from the fighting. Right now, though, combat is the most important consideration, and even as he moves he is assessing the enemies ahead of him and deciding upon likely tactics.

"Skandi! Incoming reinforcements!" He calls out in the voice of a roaring forge. It would not do for the wolf to be caught by surprise and lash out blindly, after all.


OK, so not as dramatic a stunt as I was initially thinking of - I'll have to save that one for the first round of combat. Anyway, rolling JB...

[roll0]
Stunt: [roll1]



Active charms: Defense from Anathema, Aura of Invincibility, Impervious Skin of Stone.

Dodge DV: 14

Soak:
Bashing: 18
Lethal: 17
Aggravated: 10

Hardness: 8

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

Essence and Will:
Personal: 7/17 (10 committed)
Peripheral: 27/40 (13 attuned)
Willpower: 9/10

[Aevylmar]

Skandi turns to face the Chimera.

He's failed, but what does that matter? He failed the way he should have; in battle.

His shield is raised. He considers, one-by-one, the companions he's abandoned, the companions he's failed, all the defeats that brought him here. It was failure that made him a Lunar, failure and weakness. It was failure that his armies were beaten and broken by the Realm, failure that he lost his sword. Successes were... reactions, defenses.

He remembers Chimes, whose message may never reach him, and Autumn - he sent those messages off. And he remembers... oh-so-many others. Karl the Axe, whatever he's become. Rose and Child. And now his companions - Ireva and Zhou and Jade Lotus and Fire Orchid; goodbye to them. He wishes he could have fought by them again, wished he could have done his part.

But Versi got away.

Skandi greets the Chimera that may be his death with his shield raised and a smile on his face. If I die, let's make this a good death. And while the Wolf fights, Skandi laughs.

My odds of surviving a second nuclear flurry from an Essence 4+ are minimal, but let's see what I can do. Skandi is spending his last Compassion channel on this defense and spending his last 5 motes to 1st his defense. I'll put one on each attack until one hits, at which point if I'm alive I'll put them all into the next attack, and I'm and hoping for a really, really good stunt. DV is 13+stunt+roll.

The five dice, in order: [roll0]

Stat Block to Copy-Post

All buffs are factored in.
Boosts: Deadly Beastman Form (+1 all physical attributes, heal a Bashing and a Lethal each round, +4L/4B soak, +4 yards/tick of move, +2 hearing), Relentless Lunar Fury (+1 sux, piercing, +3L damage, attacks do not have action penalties)
Penalties:

Attack Pools
Moonwrath - Speed 5, Accuracy 15 / 17, Damage 14L / 2, Rate 2
Axe - Speed 5, Accuracy 12 / 14, Damage 11L, Rate 2
Shieldbash - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 / 13, Damage 8B, Rate 1
Dagger - Speed 4, Accuracy 13 / 15, Damage 7L, Rate 3
Iron Boot - Speed 5, Accuracy 11 / 13, Damage 12B, Rate 2
Note: (Fierce blows are currently off.)

Defense Pools
Moonwrath - 6 / 7
Axe - 5 / 6
Shield - 8 / 9
Dodge - 4

Essence: 3
Personal: 0/23
Peripherial: 0/52
Willpower: 1/10
Committed: 19

Getting Hit
Soak: 17L / 19B
Natural: 7L/10B
Hardness: 8L / 8B
Health Levels: 0/1/1/1/1/1/1/1/1/2/2/4

[industrious]

Two die stunt.

Attack 1: 21 sux - 16 DV = 5 net sux. Due to Skandi's very high soak, this is reduced to minimum damage. 2 levels of damage

Attack 2: Hit, 1 net sux. 2 levels of damage

Attack 3: Parried

Attack 4: Parried

Attack 5: Hit, net 2 sux. 2 levels of damage.

Skandi takes 6 levels of damage. He is now Dying, at level 3.

Arrivals and Departures

As the party rushes towards the scene of battle, there is a flare of silver light, a flash of illumination, before the night grows dark once more.

As they land, they see the Chimera, a monstrous thing of shimmering silver, its face little more than a gaping maw ringed with the jaws of a dozen animals, each set of teeth and snout matted with red blood. It pants, barbed tail upright and swaying as its quadruped form lies over the body of a wolfman.

A moment of silence, and the wolf's eyes are pieced twiceover with barbed arrows, and a single shaft lodges in the Lunar's head.


Roll Join Battle.

Coup de grace. 6 action flurry to attack and then reestablish surprise. Adding Splinter of the Void to each attack, twice.


[rollv]7d10[rollv] + 5 sux



[roll0] + 5 sux



[roll1] + 5 sux



[roll2] + 5 sux



[roll3] + 5 sux



[roll4] + 2 sux = 4 sux

[Ascension]

Skandi the Wolf's final stand, his last desperate struggle, will not ever be forgotten.

Each moment of that fight sears itself into Braga's mind, albeit in paradoxically masochistic fashion. Each time he feels the chimera suffer he grits his teeth and welcomes the pain; each time it roars in triumph he answers it with gasps and sobs. He learns the true measure of the Wolf's strength, then... he feels the might of his blows, and he marvels at every fresh evidence of his sheer determination... and yet...

...and yet the scholar is perhaps the first to see that it won't be enough. Fresh strength surges through the chimera's unnatural form with each of its panting breaths, and the arrows from out of the dark never cease, not even as Abyssal blood scents the air and wets the ground. Skandi is outnumbered, overwhelmed...

...and then hope flickers on the periphery of Braga's extended senses. There, at the edge of the chimera's awareness, he can perceive a bird that is not a bird... too fast, too large, too heavy laden... and he forgets to be angry at Versino for endangering herself again, he forgets entirely because help has come, and Skandi-

-and Skandi is collapsing, collapsing under the weight of claws, teeth, tail, and he can feel it all, but the others are there, and Skandi is made of tough stuff, hardened by Northern winters, bolstered by Luna's gifts, clad in mighty armor... he's just down, he's not, he's not-

Then come the arrows out of the dark, and they pierce straight through all Braga's attempts to reassure himself. Skandi's head jerks in one final motion, drawing the chimera's attention for a moment, but then he lies still. The flow of blood from the barbarian's broken body weakens... his proud heart slows... and the chimera's focus turns toward still-living prey.

Braga lets slip his connection with the wretched beast, collapsing back into his own senses, slumping forward into the dirt of the campground. He has seen enough, and more than enough. Enough to satisfy his morbid curiosity... enough to ensure that history will remember a great champion's last moments... enough to ensure that he won't sleep soundly for some several seasons to come.

He rises on hands and knees, trying to shake off his horror. He is tired and he is grieved, but the night is not yet over... the fight is not yet over. He murmurs weary words into the wind, calling out to the Kazei, "Skandi the Wolf is dead. His other companions still struggle with his killers. Is the camp under attack?"

That last question hangs uselessly in the air... he realizes only belatedly that the Kazei has no means to reply. For a swifter answer, he would be wiser to listen to the camp itself. He pulls himself to his feet, looking about to see if any soldiers might be near him, or if the army seems to be in commotion.

Obviously I'm using Wind-Carried Words Technique in there. If you'd like me to roll for anything (like trying to see what's going on in camp, for instance), just let me know.

[The_Snark]

Chimera, the little Lunar says, and for a moment Isa marvels at the strangeness: that she should learn of them on the same day she is to face one, just scant hours before… But only a moment. In part, this is because every Sidereal soonlearns to recognize and accept the subtle hand of Fate at work, arranging the warp and weft of the world to create a more harmonious design. Those who think the Loom is merely their tool are fools; it works on a dozen different levels, each one too vast and intricate for any single being to hope to comprehend in full.

The other part is that she has little time to spare for such musings. Though the wind is muffled by the mixed silver-and-gold light of Celestial animas, she can tell they’re moving fast: the forest floor below is a blur of flickering shadows, light and darkness shifting too quickly to pick anything out. Ahead - not too distant - lies another flare of silver.

She concentrates, setting aside thoughts of the battle ahead, and the wonder of this peculiar flight-by-night, and all the other distractions plaguing her. The others are taking advantage of the uncanny quiet (should not the wind be howling?) to talk, but she can’t spare the focus to make out the words. Her sense of Skandi, whom she once led down a street in Nexus, tells her repeatedly danger, danger, dire peril; she tunes it out. The night air has a bitter chill at this altitude; she ignores it. Her position clinging to Versino’s arm is tenuous. No martial arts kata was meant to be performed in such an awkward position, not even the lost arts of the flying Dragon Kings or the disciplines of the Children of Mela. But there may be little time to spare, and though the Throne Shadow may not be meant to fly tucked under a Lunar’s wind, neither is she meant to collapse outside the calm of the dojo.

Calm. Focus. That’s all she truly needs. The physical motions are small and subtle, not energetic enough to disturb the flight.

Then they’re there. Isa has a moment of dizziness as the ground swoops towards her, but she refuses to allow it to slow her, rolling and rising into a crouch as the Lunar releases her. One hand clutches a knife, the other holds her staff ready to deflect. Her nerves sing with tension as she takes in the scene - Skandi lying still on the ground, a shining silver thing standing above him. The Wolf’s body is feathered with arrows; where did those come from? Her eyes flicker about the glade, sifting through shadows and moonlight in search of unseen archers.

So, first off: Athletics roll to try to assume Throne Shadow Form mid-flight. Difficulty 3. If she fails, she’ll spend her second in-flight action trying again.
Dex+Athletics: [roll0]
Stunt: [roll1]

Join Battle, using Secrets of Future Strife:
[roll2] +5 successes
Stunt: [roll3]

And a roll to oppose the deathknight’s last attempt to establish stealth - I think that’s reflexive?
Per+Awareness: [roll4]
Stunt: [roll5]

[Ifni]

As they come hurtling down toward the battleground like a falling flash of silver lightning, Ireva reaches over her shoulder with her free hand, gripping her sword-hilt and beginning to slide it into reality. As Versino levels out for the final approach the diminutive Eclipse loosens her grip, hangs from the Lunar child's shoulder by one hand for a moment, and then lets go; if Versino has an arm free, perhaps she can scoop Skandi up and get him to safety...

The little crane-Lunar passes just overhead in a thunderclap of rushing wind and wings that makes Ireva duck her head instinctively; even as she falls the few feet to the ground the slipstream carries her forward like a river. Both the Solar's hands are on the hilt of Resolve as she lands, the golden blade flashing impatiently free an instant later.

Only then does she look up, and take in the scene.

With Ireva and Versino's animas joining those of the combatants, the midnight forest seems almost to glow, every leaf-edge and swaying branch outlined in silver-gold brilliance. But in the light there are forms brighter still - and forms fallen dim.

She sees the chimera, monstrous and warped and alien, the hideous vision of a future fate at which Skandi's words had only hinted. But the horror it evokes is nothing, nothing at all, when compared to the sight of her friend (ally, battle-brother, confidante) lying helpless beneath its claws.

Go, her lips shape the word in desperate useless encouragement, as Versino surges toward the pair, and her thoughts babble the old litany that once marked the deaths of friend after friend in a hopeless struggle: please, not again, not too late, not this time, please...

And then there is the faint sound of shattering glass, and the louder and more gruesome sound of tearing flesh, a merciless answer to her silent pleas. Barbed arrows lodge in Skandi's eyes, like a mockery of the spectacles she had given him as a token of friendship.

Too. Late.
Untimely, indeed.

What goes through Ireva's mind in that moment has only a tangential relationship to logic. It is the icy enumeration of Fire Orchid's enemies, and the instant reflexive dismissal of Immaculate Masters as possible allies to a Chimera. It is the memory of a conference room in Yu-Shan and leafing through sheets of paper, swallowing back bile and fury and a shivering fear that's never quite gone away, as she read the names of Thorns' knights. It is the older memories, shadowing every thought, of delighted laughter and the scent of rot and ice-rimed alleyways and mutilated corpses hanging on the gates. Of tortured faces caught in dark metal. Of despairing screams behind her, calling her name.

Guilt and grief and fear are potent forces. They can cripple any warrior, as they drive the strongest to turn their strength against themselves. Ireva knows it all too well. Their tide rises, and surges, freezing her blood for a moment as recriminations and memories batter at her - but then it subsides, overtaken by something greater, uncoiling irresistibly from the depths of her soul.

(A tiny part of her protests. Tries to hold back. Says this is wrong. But only a tiny part. She cannot fail here. Cannot allow herself to be weak.)

Hatred fills and sustains her, rising like sap in springtime, rich and strong and sweet and welcome. In its bright righteous light all ambiguities fall away. The sight of a fallen friend - and like shadows cast by moonlight, all the other fallen friends, a lifetime's worth - becomes a banner to be raised in battle. Grief is only the impetus for vengeance, and the mental image of the killers broken and begging for death is almost enough to make her smile.

The Solar is running forward; if she hesitated, it was only for a moment, a single missed half-step. Her eyes are dry, her lips drawn back to bare her teeth. Sunlight illuminates her in brilliance, radiantly golden as the absent Sun, and in the hands of Eris Stormcrow, Resolve burns like a white-hot flame.

In remembrance; for revenge.

Ireva is actually still going to control this Limit Break; uncontrolled Deliberate Cruelty is just... not group-friendly. Claiming motes from the 2-die stunt on WCWT activation, which puts Ireva back to full (she spent 3m on WCWT and 1m to light her anima).

She will be moving reflexively to remain within Defend Other reach of both Zhou and Isa, unless something about their movement makes this impossible. She will prioritize this over attacking if it comes to that, but since they're both planning for melee combat as well, they shouldn't be inconsistent.

Join Battle: [roll0]
Stunt: [roll1]
The Sword destiny might apply on this roll, if the bad guys are working for the Mask.
EDIT: Doesn't matter; 4/5 successes with a 1/2-die stunt. That's a really good roll for Ireva, which I suppose aligns with Limit Break being cathartic/alluring because it patches her self-doubt/survivor-guilt issues :smallwink:

Essence/WP/anima tracking:
Personal: 19 (19)
Peripheral: 27 (42) (15 attuned to artifacts)
Overdrive: 10 (10) (assuming Skandi got ganked for at least four HLs on tick 40)
WP: 7/10
Limit: 10/10

Anima: 4 Peripheral spent (but flaring at 8-11m level)

[Inspector Valin]

"Skandi..."

Versi simply flapped as the Deathknight's arrows found their mark, unable to move. It seemed surreal, like when the last Abyssal had jumped out of Braga's shadow, brandishing an axe. The Abyssals seemed to have that effect on Versino; every time they showed up, it reminded her of how far she had to go yet, how little she still didn't know. How useless that one little Lunar really was. For all her speed, for all her pride at having brought the others here so quickly, Versino had failed Skandi when he truly needed her. Failed at the task assigned to her. Just like always.

But it wasn't Braga's voice she heard, gentle and kind with admonishments and quiet correction. No, it was an older, bitter voice: cracked and horse with ware that could never heal. It cackled in her mind, filled with an unstopable glee, the words etched into her memory. Wasn't quick enough. Wasn't fast enough. Wasn't good enough. Versi could feel the chill of the old Ghost's essence on her spine, smell the threefold trace of bone, alcohol and opium upon his breath. How many times had he said those words? What's the point of calling yourself something different, Girl? You are who you are. And that's never going to change.

It was truth, simple, total and unchallengeable by the wisdom Versi had learned as a child. Only a few people in all existence had ever told her differently. Told her that she could be more, that she could challenge the ideas other people simply accepted and took for granted. And one of those few precious people who'd told her this was falling to the ground, blood and life seeping away from him, as the Exaltation of Skandi the Wolf withdrew from combat towards its old sanctuary of Lytek's cabinet

Versi lingered there a second longer, as time reasserted itself, seemingly pushed back into motion by the beating of her wings. Skandi fell to the ground, the others charged towards the battle, events resumed their motion. The Malfean lingered there a second, lost in a simple thought that she was unsure even how to truly form. But regardless, she had to try.

Luna, Greatest of the Incarnae, Goddess of the Moon, keep Skandi's soul safe. He served you better than I ever could.

The young Lunar zipped overhead, outpacing her companions without the slightest effort. Above her, the Scarlet Crane hung its beak in shame, marking the fall of a fellow Chosen of the Moon. Versi too lowered her head, but for the young warrior, the meaning was far different. Closing her eyes, Versino begun to focus internally, calling up the last few dregs of her essence and passing it into the sign of Mela she'd been practising. She was no Air Aspect, but her wings could make up for her lack of anima here. And she knew this charm well enough to make it work.

Every time Versino beat her wings, the power behind the motion seemed to intensify. As she blew past the final edge of the clearing, sending a nearby pile of leaves flying in her wake, the last shred of the air essence she had been channelling as part of her charm filled out through the trees, casting the leaves both upon the ground and loosely hanging from low branches every which-way with the force of a tornado. A good hundred leaves blew through the forest in that instant, a storm of dark greens and pale reddy-browns, moving with speed almost equal to the young Lunars. And Versi could see every one. Every gust of wind, ever breath of a gnat, the slightest shifting through the shadow and anima light: everything was clear to Versi.

There was nowhere left to hide.

With luck, it was only a matter of time now until the archer revealed himself. The young Lunar muttered as she darted between the trees, the armoured girl's form serving as the one point of calm in the midst of her self created hurricane. "May the Ebon Dragon take you, Deathknight. No one else will."

4 motes Peripheral, 16 Personal. Committing three motes Peripheral to activate Air Dragon Sight. Also looking to oppose that Stealth attempt. If he doesn't have anything to hide behind, and is just using Unseen Wisp Method, on past rulings Versi should be able to see him now without a roll. And even if he keeps Stealth up, attacks against Versi are no longer Unexpected. Whilst activating the charm she's taking off and moving out to the rough area those arrows came from, and beginning to sweep the area. With IDBM, she should be able to get pretty close.
[roll0] Perception + Awareness
[roll1] Stunt

That prayer wasn't a formal prayer action as I can't flurry that.

Personal: 16/23
Peripheral: 1/52

[industrious]

"Skandi..."

Versi simply flapped as the Deathknight's arrows found their mark, unable to move. It seemed surreal, like when the last Abyssal had jumped out of Braga's shadow, brandishing an axe. The Abyssals seemed to have that effect on Versino; every time they showed up, it reminded her of how far she had to go yet, how little she still didn't know. How useless that one little Lunar really was. For all her speed, for all her pride at having brought the others here so quickly, Versino had failed Skandi when he truly needed her. Failed at the task assigned to her. Just like always.

But it wasn't Braga's voice she heard, gentle and kind with admonishments and quiet correction. No, it was an older, bitter voice: cracked and horse with ware that could never heal. It cackled in her mind, filled with an unstopable glee, the words etched into her memory. Wasn't quick enough. Wasn't fast enough. Wasn't good enough. Versi could feel the chill of the old Ghost's essence on her spine, smell the threefold trace of bone, alcohol and opium upon his breath. How many times had he said those words? What's the point of calling yourself something different, Girl? You are who you are. And that's never going to change.

It was truth, simple, total and unchallengeable by the wisdom Versi had learned as a child. Only a few people in all existence had ever told her differently. Told her that she could be more, that she could challenge the ideas other people simply accepted and took for granted. And one of those few precious people who'd told her this was falling to the ground, blood and life seeping away from him, as the Exaltation of Skandi the Wolf withdrew from combat towards its old sanctuary of Lytek's cabinet

Versi lingered there a second longer, as time reasserted itself, seemingly pushed back into motion by the beating of her wings. Skandi fell to the ground, the others charged towards the battle, events resumed their motion. The Malfean lingered there a second, lost in a simple thought that she was unsure even how to truly form. But regardless, she had to try.

Luna, Greatest of the Incarnae, Goddess of the Moon, keep Skandi's soul safe. He served you better than I ever could.

The young Lunar zipped overhead, outpacing her companions without the slightest effort. Above her, the Scarlet Crane hung its beak in shame, marking the fall of a fellow Chosen of the Moon. Versi too lowered her head, but for the young warrior, the meaning was far different. Closing her eyes, Versino begun to focus internally, calling up the last few dregs of her essence and passing it into the sign of Mela she'd been practising. She was no Air Aspect, but her wings could make up for her lack of anima here. And she knew this charm well enough to make it work.

Every time Versino beat her wings, the power behind the motion seemed to intensify. As she blew past the final edge of the clearing, sending a nearby pile of leaves flying in her wake, the last shred of the air essence she had been channelling as part of her charm filled out through the trees, casting the leaves both upon the ground and loosely hanging from low branches every which-way with the force of a tornado. A good hundred leaves blew through the forest in that instant, a storm of dark greens and pale reddy-browns, moving with speed almost equal to the young Lunars. And Versi could see every one. Every gust of wind, ever breath of a gnat, the slightest shifting through the shadow and anima light: everything was clear to Versi.

There was nowhere left to hide.

With luck, it was only a matter of time now until the archer revealed himself. The young Lunar muttered as she darted between the trees, the armoured girl's form serving as the one point of calm in the midst of her self created hurricane. "May the Ebon Dragon take you, Deathknight. No one else will."

4 motes Peripheral, 16 Personal. Committing three motes Peripheral to activate Air Dragon Sight. Also looking to oppose that Stealth attempt. If he doesn't have anything to hide behind, and is just using Unseen Wisp Method, on past rulings Versi should be able to see him now without a roll. And even if he keeps Stealth up, attacks against Versi are no longer Unexpected. Whilst activating the charm she's taking off and moving out to the rough area those arrows came from, and beginning to sweep the area. With IDBM, she should be able to get pretty close.
[roll0] Perception + Awareness
[roll1] Stunt

That prayer wasn't a formal prayer action as I can't flurry that.

Personal: 16/23
Peripheral: 1/52

Versi

While the little Lunar howls her prayer at her patron, while she can feel every gentle breeze and twist of the wind, she cannot spot Skandi's slayer.


Chimera, the little Lunar says, and for a moment Isa marvels at the strangeness: that she should learn of them on the same day she is to face one, just scant hours before… But only a moment. In part, this is because every Sidereal soonlearns to recognize and accept the subtle hand of Fate at work, arranging the warp and weft of the world to create a more harmonious design. Those who think the Loom is merely their tool are fools; it works on a dozen different levels, each one too vast and intricate for any single being to hope to comprehend in full.

The other part is that she has little time to spare for such musings. Though the wind is muffled by the mixed silver-and-gold light of Celestial animas, she can tell they’re moving fast: the forest floor below is a blur of flickering shadows, light and darkness shifting too quickly to pick anything out. Ahead - not too distant - lies another flare of silver.

She concentrates, setting aside thoughts of the battle ahead, and the wonder of this peculiar flight-by-night, and all the other distractions plaguing her. The others are taking advantage of the uncanny quiet (should not the wind be howling?) to talk, but she can’t spare the focus to make out the words. Her sense of Skandi, whom she once led down a street in Nexus, tells her repeatedly danger, danger, dire peril; she tunes it out. The night air has a bitter chill at this altitude; she ignores it. Her position clinging to Versino’s arm is tenuous. No martial arts kata was meant to be performed in such an awkward position, not even the lost arts of the flying Dragon Kings or the disciplines of the Children of Mela. But there may be little time to spare, and though the Throne Shadow may not be meant to fly tucked under a Lunar’s wind, neither is she meant to collapse outside the calm of the dojo.

Calm. Focus. That’s all she truly needs. The physical motions are small and subtle, not energetic enough to disturb the flight.

Then they’re there. Isa has a moment of dizziness as the ground swoops towards her, but she refuses to allow it to slow her, rolling and rising into a crouch as the Lunar releases her. One hand clutches a knife, the other holds her staff ready to deflect. Her nerves sing with tension as she takes in the scene - Skandi lying still on the ground, a shining silver thing standing above him. The Wolf’s body is feathered with arrows; where did those come from? Her eyes flicker about the glade, sifting through shadows and moonlight in search of unseen archers.

So, first off: Athletics roll to try to assume Throne Shadow Form mid-flight. Difficulty 3. If she fails, she’ll spend her second in-flight action trying again.
Dex+Athletics: [roll0]
Stunt: [roll1]

Join Battle, using Secrets of Future Strife:
[roll2] +5 successes
Stunt: [roll3]

And a roll to oppose the deathknight’s last attempt to establish stealth - I think that’s reflexive?
Per+Awareness: [roll4]
Stunt: [roll5]

Isa

It is a small thing, but Isa sees it nonetheless. An indent on grass, and another, leading deeper into the woods.


Isa can't see the Deathknight, but she is no longer surprised and knows he's fleeing into the woods.



Skandi the Wolf's final stand, his last desperate struggle, will not ever be forgotten.

Each moment of that fight sears itself into Braga's mind, albeit in paradoxically masochistic fashion. Each time he feels the chimera suffer he grits his teeth and welcomes the pain; each time it roars in triumph he answers it with gasps and sobs. He learns the true measure of the Wolf's strength, then... he feels the might of his blows, and he marvels at every fresh evidence of his sheer determination... and yet...

...and yet the scholar is perhaps the first to see that it won't be enough. Fresh strength surges through the chimera's unnatural form with each of its panting breaths, and the arrows from out of the dark never cease, not even as Abyssal blood scents the air and wets the ground. Skandi is outnumbered, overwhelmed...

...and then hope flickers on the periphery of Braga's extended senses. There, at the edge of the chimera's awareness, he can perceive a bird that is not a bird... too fast, too large, too heavy laden... and he forgets to be angry at Versino for endangering herself again, he forgets entirely because help has come, and Skandi-

-and Skandi is collapsing, collapsing under the weight of claws, teeth, tail, and he can feel it all, but the others are there, and Skandi is made of tough stuff, hardened by Northern winters, bolstered by Luna's gifts, clad in mighty armor... he's just down, he's not, he's not-

Then come the arrows out of the dark, and they pierce straight through all Braga's attempts to reassure himself. Skandi's head jerks in one final motion, drawing the chimera's attention for a moment, but then he lies still. The flow of blood from the barbarian's broken body weakens... his proud heart slows... and the chimera's focus turns toward still-living prey.

Braga lets slip his connection with the wretched beast, collapsing back into his own senses, slumping forward into the dirt of the campground. He has seen enough, and more than enough. Enough to satisfy his morbid curiosity... enough to ensure that history will remember a great champion's last moments... enough to ensure that he won't sleep soundly for some several seasons to come.

He rises on hands and knees, trying to shake off his horror. He is tired and he is grieved, but the night is not yet over... the fight is not yet over. He murmurs weary words into the wind, calling out to the Kazei, "Skandi the Wolf is dead. His other companions still struggle with his killers. Is the camp under attack?"

That last question hangs uselessly in the air... he realizes only belatedly that the Kazei has no means to reply. For a swifter answer, he would be wiser to listen to the camp itself. He pulls himself to his feet, looking about to see if any soldiers might be near him, or if the army seems to be in commotion.

Obviously I'm using Wind-Carried Words Technique in there. If you'd like me to roll for anything (like trying to see what's going on in camp, for instance), just let me know.

Braga

As he comes to, Braga recognizes that he is in the midst of a group of soldiers, spears facing outward.

"Sir," one of them asks. "We have orders to escort you to the Commander immediately."

[Ascension]

For once, Braga doesn't stop to ask questions, simply replying, "Lead, soldier. Let us make haste."

As they set out, however, he peers past the ring of spearmen, trying his best to catch some glimpse of what threat they guard against, or at least the general state of the camp. Perhaps Fire Orchid is simply being cautious, after the Immaculates' and Chimera's attacks, or perhaps... perhaps something else haunts this night.

Perception+Awareness:
[roll0]

Bonus dice against ambushes:
[roll1]

Potential stunt:
[roll2]

[The_Snark]

Though no archer stands triumphant over Skandi's corpse, the arrows piercing his ruined silver-rimmed spectacles tell differently. It was not the chimera that dealt the killing blow, though the grotesque thing's mouths and claws are stained red with his blood. The seen threat is not always greater than the unseen.

The black fletching points east. No archer lurks amidst the trees, either, but now that she knows where to look the signs are there to be seen. A stand of bluestem daubed with silver-and-black-and-crimson (the color of blood by moonlight); delicate grass bending beneath unseen feet; a rustling sound where there’s no wind to cause it.

Zhou and Ireva can face the chimera toe-to-toe (or so Isa hopes) but neither is suited to play stalking games with an archer in the dark. Perhaps he's running - in which case, she shouldn't let him, on the basis that letting the enemy do as they like is hardly ever a good idea - but he could just as easily be circling around to hit them from cover. Either way, best to stop him.

Xet’s stiletto knife leaves her grasp as quickly as it leapt to hand. The moon shines threefold on the clearing, Luna’s unveiled face presiding above and two of her Chosen reflecting her in full splendor, and that thrice-mirrored light catches on the knife’s naked blade, turning dull blue-stained steel to a silver dart gleaming bright as it flies. The shot seems unlikely, at this distance, with her target known but not seen; and yet it could work, if the wind were just so, if she happened to read the signs just right, and guess which way the fleeing archer will step next...

A Sidereal does not fight fair. An unseen hand rests on the threads of fate, parlaying the odds into evens.

Isa is throwing a knife at the fleeing deathknight, as indicated. She will be adding 2 dice via the First Martial Arts Excellency, and using the Fateful Excellency to buy an auspicious success.

Roll: No roll, silly. 13+stunt rating successes.
Base damage is 6L, plus a dose of coral snake venom (damage 6L/action, toxicity 3, penalty -5).

Dodge DV 10
Parry DV 8 (staff) or 6 (unarmed)

Current DV penalty: -1

Attacks
Staff: Speed 4, Accuracy 16, Damage 9B, Parry 8, Rate 3; reach
Knife, melee: Speed 3, Accuracy 13, Damage 5L, Parry 5, Rate 3; poison
Knife, thrown: Speed 4, Accuracy 11, Damage 6L, Range 25, Rate 3; poison
Razor wire: Speed 5, Accuracy 10, Damage 6L, Rate 1; clinch, piercing
Unarmed (light): Speed 4, Accuracy 11, Damage 3B, Rate 3
Unarmed (heavy): Speed 4, Accuracy 10, Damage 6B, Rate 2
Clinch: Speed 5, Accuracy 10, Damage 3B, Rate 1; clinch, piercing

Essence
Personal: 2/16 (8 committed)
Peripheral: 19/38 (19 committed)

Willpower 9/10

Soak 6B/6L (3B/5L from armor)
Hardness none

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

Active effects:
Throne Shadow Form (shadow fingers reflexively Defend Other, strike immaterial targets)