The Lotus Blossoms! - Volume II [Archive] - Page 3

Ascension

2019-11-14, 12:21 PM

The Parting:

Zalm is momentarily surprised by Slang's request, but then gives their captain a wink.

"I'll see what I can do."

A tear pricks Kelam's eye as her girlfriend vaults away up the rigging. They've spent so much time together over the last couple of months, Brown Leaf's absence feels like missing part of herself. But this won't be long, she assures herself again. Just a simple rescue mission...

The thunderbird... "Thunderbolt Smile," he has decided to call himself... mirrors Skymoth in scoffing at Leaf and Tuoni's notions of caution, but the Vaktri's crystalline voice provides another vote for subtlety. Wic's erstwhile entourage begins squabbling as the sorcerer prepares to depart, but in a companionable way, and either Briar or Camellia interrupts with a yip or a growl whenever one of the two (usually Smile) seems to be getting too worked up. And all four of the elementals reunify in waving Wic goodbye when he does fly away, Slang and Kelam in tow.

pfm, if you'd like for Tuoni to respond to Wic's farewell, feel free to, I'm just continuing with the introductions of Dari and Chalan while I have enough free time to write them.
Dari:

The late afternoon Sun is sliding down the sky by the time Wic's stormwind approaches the broken shell of Dari. While the little tempest has flown as swiftly as usual, the ride has not been the easiest or most comfortable. The air currents have been unpredictable. Maybe just a quirk of the weather, or, perhaps... another omen? Either way, best to hurry.

A partial dome of white Jade, what's left of the Shogunate's attempt to seal Dari away for all time, still looms above the city's Southwestern quarter, but as Wic and his allies fly in from the northeast, their view into the ruins is only obstructed by the mists which cling to the broken stumps of the city's opalescent towers.

Wic knows those towers fell long before the dome fell, long before the Empress claimed the Sword of Creation. They fell...

...under the relentless barrage of Essence artillery. An upswelling of anger fills Wic's Terrible Bloody Rose's heart as she witnesses her city's desecration. The usurpers have brought their full strength against Dari, of course they have. Her city stands... or stood? No, stands for everything these ungrateful upstarts oppose. Out in the streets, her people fight and die in the service of order, of rationality, of hierarchy.

Yet, though her people fight with their all... all those who would not have already been purged by Rose's command... she knows that today their fight is lost. As much as she is loath to admit it, the undeserving have, once again, risen in triumph over their rightful masters. But with a long view... the only logical view... while the battle may be lost, the war is far from over. Rose will not allow her Scepter and her dear husband's Orb to fall into the hands of the enemy, and as long as the holy artifacts endure, Dari will rise again...

"She will rise again," Wic finds himself saying, as his thoughts come back to the present, come back to himself.

Chalan:

With Slang's disguise in place, transfiguring the Remora into an image of its former self, the tree-ship has made the voyage to Chalan unmolested. Unfortunately, however, as the Remora approaches the port of Chalan, gateway to the Lap, it becomes evident that the city burns. Thick plumes of smoke rise in several different locations, including the harbor itself, where the great grain storehouses which feed Realm garrisons throughout the South are now consumed by spreading fires.

"Gods, that looks like a rightful mess," Zalm swears. They turn to their Exalted passengers with a quizzical look. "You lot still want to go ashore here?"

Sticks

2019-11-14, 01:20 PM

Her eyes locked on the burning city, Leaf answers Zalm. "Yeah, we're goin' inta that. Get me close 'nough, I'll look for survivors."

Inspector Valin

2019-11-14, 01:54 PM

"Uuugh..."

Wic returns, groggy. The flashes are getting more intense. That's... probably not a good thing. He'd work on a way to drown them out, but he hasn't the time and it might cost the group his knowledge of the city. As such he keeps the stormwind baring onwards, trying to pretend nothing had happened.

Still, he can't help but stop as they grow closer to the ruined towers. Wirric looks up at them, starting to slow the hurricane to better appreciate the view. He can remember how it was, the majesty of a past time. As far as Dari has fallen now, to stand here is to stand in Rose's memory of Dari-That-Was. And that is humbling. "It was a beautiful city, once. I... dare actually say more beautiful than Whitewall. A place of peace, calm, contentment and serenity. Gardens of emerald and fountains sapphire blue. Everything was perfect. Everything was right."

He looks to Slang and Kelam, a strange fire in his eyes. He wants to explain, to try and put some of those old ideas into words, so they can understand this place. "We're not creatures of chaos by nature, I think. All of us, we can chafe against the grain, but we like things to make sense. Who doesn't want to feel like they fit in? Like they have somewhere to belong?"

He waves his hands at the crumbling skyline before them. "That's what Dari was. A place where everyone fit."

Malozing

2019-11-14, 03:01 PM

Inspector Valin

2019-11-14, 06:04 PM

This is the second time Wic has mumbled some phrase since Dari of the Mist has been brought up, and Slang frowns as Wic come to himself again. They listen to his ramblings with increasing concern. The Tya shrugs noncommittedly as the sorcerer finishes talking.

“Not sure that any single place could be that for every person, Wic. To be fair, the open water and my crew gave me that sense of belonging when I’ve needed it the most.”

"And that's the point! Even in isolation, people find their own places within a wider schema. The central shinmatic schema, the order cosmic of underlying principles. Like the water and Tya for you, or Leaf for Kelam. A framework to make sense of existence and give it purpose. Instead of creating and imposing a system, we work with what's already there, codify it, bring it into the glorious whole and people see how much happier that whole makes them. Order isn't there to be the enemy, it's there to support us, help us stand together and stand strong. That was the underlying concept of Dari's society. Hierarchy not as some feudal lord sitting on his throne - that's an ape's understanding, but a series of metasystems, self contained but positioned in the orbit of recurrent larger groups..."

Wic looks like he could keep going on this theme for a while, but has started to realize just how esoteric he's sounding. The sorcerer chuckles. "You should really talk with Ocelot about it, Slang - he can explain it much better than I can. I tend to get too metaphysical"

The light in Wirric’s eyes reminds Slang of another comment the Twilight said the last time they flew together.

“Before we returned to the Remora, you said something about your exaltation turning on you. What did you mean by that?”

"It was... just a theory." Damn it, he can't worry them about this! But he can't lie. Wic tries to smile. "Something about this place is getting to me. I... guess with everything that's been going on, my mind's a little overstressed. Walking these streets, even just thinking back to what was... it's hard to draw a line between then and now. Isn't it?"

He waves a hand across the splintered, mist-covered towers. "Remember, the people who ruled here were our predecessors. The same blessing the Unconquered Sun gave us, he first gave them. It's hard to avoid comparison, seeing their works and what came of them, for better or worse."

Ascension

2019-11-14, 08:18 PM

Kelam isn't certain what's going on with Wic. The sorcerer hasn't quite seemed himself ever since the subject of Dari first came up. The subject of Dari, which first came up in a message only Wic could perceive...

Kelam still trusts Wic, but she worries for him.

She can see the appeal of the vision the Twilight outlines... after the turmoil and squalor of Wu-Jian's slums, peace and order would admittedly be welcome... but beyond what Slang voiced out loud, the tattoos and scars on their body are a palpable reminder of how difficult it is for some to find a place within an established order.

"Should we get started searching for your friend? Drogath?" Kelam asks, hoping a reminder of their purpose will help Wic work through... whatever it is he's dealing with. "I can feel the death here. It would be best if we could find him before the sun sets."

pfm1995

2019-11-15, 12:54 AM

"I suppose it's a good thing this Daru is already ruined," Tuoni harrumphed, "else I'd be worried." Still, he inclines his head at the invocations. "Walk with the one-eyed stag, you'll need his blessing to turn this trap."

----------------

Standing on the shores of Chalan, Tuoni shivers in the sudden heat. Watching the flames is reminiscent of his brief time in the South's underworld, the smell and the screams a perfect match. "There should be people fighting the fires." Even in his tiny village, they had plans in place in case a fire broke out. How could a city of this size not? "I don't see them, though - where are they? What started this?"

Inspector Valin

2019-11-15, 10:35 AM

"Quite right, Kelam. Unfortunately the kidnapper did not deign to have Drogath provide me with a meeting spot."

Wic manages a rueful smile. Still, this has seemingly brought him back to reality, and he nods to Kelam and Slang. "I can take us through a tour of spots that were historically significant and well built. If someone chose Dari for a meeting, they've likely got a fairly secure location in mind, rather than a single crumbling ruin in the midst of it all. Perhaps the Plaza? Maybe the Palace or the Reception Hall?"

Wic mutters to himself, starting to walk forward into the city proper. Here is where his newfound memories might come in handy... if they don't blind him to reality, at least.

Eurus

2019-11-15, 06:53 PM

"That... is a lot of grain."

Skymoth isn't really an expert on economics or agriculture, but even he knows that the Lap is famous for its farmland. This looks like the makings of a serious disaster.

"I don't suppose any of you can control the weather or talk to flames or something? I don't think I can do much to put this out."

Ascension

2019-11-17, 11:34 PM

Chalan:

As the disguised Remora draws nearer to Chalan's harbor, Tuoni's question as to why no one is fighting the fires is partly answered: an irregular hail of arrows wards the ship off from docking. As the archers rise piecemeal from behind dockside crates and barrels... a sort of impromptu barricade, you realize now, not simply the detritus of stevedores' labors... you can see that they each wear some piece of red cloth in a conspicuous location - headscarves, armbands, sashes - but they possess no other uniform, and their aim is wildly inconsistent. Still, Zalm swears and orders the Remora to veer away from shore.

"You lot can probably knock those arrows out of the sky with your fists," they say to the Exalts, "but I can't say the same for my crew, or this ship. I especially don't want them to get any funny ideas about fire arrows. I can give you a boat to row ashore if that Stanton boy didn't leave you enough magic to reach land by yourselves, but I have to do what's best for the Remora, and right now, that's standing offshore."

Dari:

When the airborne Exalts touch down, and the miniature tempest of Wic's stormwind dies away, the clinging mists of Dari creep in around their ankles. At the outskirts of the city, ruined twice over by weapons of the First Age and picked over by the scavengers of the second, the patchy fog does nothing more than swirl about the visitors' feet as they walk. As Wic leads on toward the better-preserved sections of the city, however, the mists grow denser and rise higher. Wic, Slang, and Kelam begin to perceive a strange odor, subtle at first, but strengthening rapidly.

The mists almost smell soothing... almost. An acrid scent cuts through their gentle perfume, and, rather than calmed, the explorers feel... numbed.

"Uhn..." Kelam groans, and she sways slightly on her feet as a sudden wave of weariness comes over her. She pauses to lean against a still-standing wall, and as she does, her motion parts the mists for a moment... revealing a corpse in the loose robes of a desert nomad slumped at the base of the wall. A slack-jawed expression is frozen on the dead man's dessicated face.

Valin, Mal, give me a Stamina + Resistance roll, please.

Inspector Valin

2019-11-18, 09:30 AM

"We didn't... we didn't come here to die that easily, did we?"

Wic grits his teeth, looking down at the skull. He's felt like this before. A long road to nowhere, mist all around him. The heaviness starting to weigh him down. The sorcerer grimaces, grasping at his arm with his fingernails - he hadn't let that stop him last time, he won't let it do so now. He calls out, voice muted and tired, but unbroken.

"Forward. Keep... keep going forward. Out of the fog."

[roll0] Stamina + Resistance + Stunt Dice. Add a WP for an autosuccess. Wic might botch this...

Sticks

2019-11-18, 01:36 PM

Brown Leaf scans the shore as the Remora pulls away. "I'll do what I can. Best if'n we split up an' divide their fire. I don't think they's organized 'enough t' deal wit' three targets. I don't want nobody hurt unless we gotta." With that, she shed her robe-top, stripped her mail and stuffed it into a belt-bag, and dove into the water. As she fell, she filled her lungs with essence and air, her muscles primed for a swift swim. She would head for shore, staying underwater as much as possible to foil the defenders' aim.

I'm guessing this will be an athletics roll to swim to shore quickly while remaining underwater. Also activating Strength Increasing Exercise (6m) to bring her STR to 7.
STR+ Athletics + Stunt + Excellency (1)
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

Malozing

2019-11-18, 07:22 PM

At the unfamiliar name, Slang tilts their head to the side, but Slang starts to piece together a small idea when Wic explains what he has been experiencing. However, the effects of the mists stop any further comment on that matter.

Shaking their heads, Slang tries to clear their head and focuses on finding a way out of the mist. Their hand finds Kelam’s shoulder, and the Tya tugs the woman, coaxing her to follow.

“Stay close.”

Stamina 3 + Resistance 4 + Stunt 2 = 9 Dice [roll0]

pfm1995

2019-11-18, 09:46 PM

"Why would you..." Tuoni sighs. The whole point of separating the group had been to avoid getting entangled in things like this, and whichever group held the burning shore obviously didn't want their help. Nothing for it now, though.

Tuoni turns to Zalm. "Go ahead and take the ship out - if we need you, can we signal with a light at night on the shore?"

Ascension

2019-11-18, 09:50 PM

Dari:

Wic, Slang, and Kelam press on through the mists as best they can, though they all feel the first effects of the city's now-poisoned breath. Despite the hazardous mist, it is obvious that many scavengers have searched the city before... obvious from the rubble clearly disturbed from its original resting place, obvious from the defaced mosaics and empty plinths, and obvious from the corpses intermittently visible through the fog.

As the trio enter the city's grand plaza, Kelam's body goes rigid, and she warns Wic and Slang to stop.

"There's a shadowland here," she cautions.

And suddenly Wic remembers. He... no, Terrible Bloody Rose ordered a final stand here as the usurpers closed in on the palace. She can still see the shattered remnants of the makeshift barricades they erected, their last-ditch efforts to delay the inevitable...

She remembers his last-ditch efforts to delay the inevitable.

"Ocelot..."

He died here, Rose suddenly remembers. Her beloved died in this very plaza. He gave his life freely, buying her the time to... to do what had to be done.

The mists briefly part, revealing what lies beyond the death-haunted plaza. The grand central palace of Dari, once a shimmering monument to the beauty of order and civility, is a gutted ruin, its twisted walls blossoming outward like a flower, torn open from within.

And a surge of grim pride wells up in Rose's breast as she remembers the fruit of Ocelot's sacrifice. It was not only the deaths of Dari's defenders which irrevocably stained the Plaza with the essence of death. The usurpers did not escape Rose's rightful vengeance.

So, the Plaza is a small shadowland, and the Palace is somewhat... exploded. Oh, and you're still surrounded by mist. Where would y'all like to search?

Chalan:

Zalm snorts a laugh.

"Can you figure out a way to distinguish it from whatever fires the townspeople decide to light next?"

They purse their lips.

"We could definitely respond to any of your animas, but I don't know if you want to risk any other attention that might draw."

pfm1995

2019-11-18, 10:45 PM

"I think we may have to risk it - we lack Wirric's magic or Slang's connection to the Remora. Either way, good luck and stay safe."

Jean took a few steps back, and then surged forwards. With every step he felt his essence gather under him, with every swing of his arms the updraft grew. When he lept off the slide, it was like he had wings.

Branches thick as a man's leg filled the air, turning the forest puddles and pools into a thousand broken mirrors. Too thick and too weak to hold most adults, they were the acknowledged home of the children of Linowa - Tuoni's were no exception. It made sparring with them infuriating.

Tuoni stood in the center of a forest grove, staff held tightly in sweat-slicked hands. The girls had been training for barely a year now and already he was hard-pressed to keep up - their mother's blood ran strong in them, and with it they'd achieved feats he could barely dream of. Slowly he turned, eyes tracing the sky's reflection in the pools. There was a violent crack, and he twisted as a branch fell where he'd been standing and kicked up a splash of water. If it'd hit him, it probably would have broken his shoulder. It was a distraction.

The girls came at him from behind, and he groaned as he was forced to pivot on his bad leg to avoid their first strikes. They were learning so fast, and he couldn't help but feel a spark of pride through the pain as they kept him turning, spinning around him like two little dervishes. Fighting back a smile, he let his knee buckle and Kyllikki, always more reckless than her sister, fell for the trap. His leg swept out but Lovi was already there, and his shin slammed into the ironwood of her own staff with bruising force. The two of them had him now, and they both knew it. They closed in, and Tuoni lept. Up and up, the crane-style form they'd only learned last week carrying him over both their strikes and back into the center of the glade. Age and treachery might just win the day yet...

Leaping off the Remora with the wind in his hair, Tuoni soared through the air on currents of essence and made it halfway to the harbor in a single bound. Fortunately for his clothes, halfway to the harbor was also the swimming Brown Leaf. For barely a heartbeat he was balanced on the woman's broad-shouldered back before he lept back into the air with an echoing chuckle.

Using Wings Spread to Sky for 4m

Inspector Valin

2019-11-19, 08:05 AM

Death. Kelam's warning gets a shudder from Wirric. He glances behind the Abyssal, up at the great structure rising on the other side of the plaza. It might just be him, but the sight of Dari's ruined palace reminds him of one of the first images of the Celestial Lotus he can recall. Dari's tombstone representing the ascendance of the individual soul through self mastery. He can feel some faint pride Rose would've taken with that allegory.

"It's also our best way out of the mists. I'm not fond of treading the borders of life and death, but if this is our option..."

Unless Kelam has an objection, Wic presses on up to the shattered barricades, using Lusus for support as he slowly makes his way across the shattered barricades, turning to offer Slang and Kelam a hand in clambering over the rubble. The Solar takes a second to glance around the devastated grand plaza, taking in the bones and faded blood of yesteryear. Rose never saw this fight, but Wic's mind is sharp enough to redraw the strokes of Dari's final stand. The Dragon Blooded broke through here, the defenders formed up with their backs to the fountain, a terrestrial's blow ruining the ornamental statue at its centre.

The problem helps Wic recoup his spirits a little - it's a chance to get his mind off Drogath and focus on a problem. But there's one key part of the picture that might be the most relevant of all. One defender whose fate mattered to Rose.

Ocelot

[roll0] Perception + Investigation + Stunt - Penalty for a Case Scene action to determine exactly where on the battlefield Ocelot fell and how. Busting out Crafty Observation Method through Personal for 2 autosux and doubled 9s, and 2m of Excellency from Peripheral - it also lessens the time needed to 'a handful of seconds' and broadens Case Scene enough to make sure Wic can recostruct something like this. He just sherlock scanned the plaza basically.

Eurus

2019-11-19, 08:23 AM

Skymoth sighs and purses his lips as Tuoni and Brown Leaf jump overboard. As a warrior, his instinct is to run toward a fight -- but the slaughter of the Brides still weighs heavily on him. Things were so much simpler when he could just fight whoever was in front of him and trust the gods to sort it all out.

The ship rocks as it turns, a tya sailor moves past with a sail line, and Skymoth is gone in a nearly silent splash. Under the water, a rainbow-green hookfish sprints toward the shore. It's perhaps three feet long, and Skymoth is briefly distracted as the flex of his scale-covered muscle makes him think back to how tasty that fish was. It's a slightly unsettling thought.

Malozing

2019-11-19, 12:15 PM

"Maybe they would have brought Drograth into the shadowland. Trying to have as much advantage over us as possible."

Slang squeezes Kelam's shoulder. "Sorry."

They take Wic's offered hand and continues forward. Eyes searching for any signs of people or trouble.

Perception 3 + Awareness 4 + Stunt 2 - Penalty 1 = 8 Dice [roll0]

Ascension

2019-11-19, 03:19 PM

With the sun still in the sky, and the ruins already void of life, the transition into the shadowland is a subtle one. The Exalts can feel the shift in the Plaza's essence, but a mortal explorer might cross the boundary with no more warning than a brief chill. There is one other difference, however: where elsewhere in the ruins, the trio encountered dessicated bodies, here in the Plaza, there are only empty suits of armor, many of them, speckled with blood and rust, but conspicuously missing their former occupants.

As Wic, Slang, and Kelam scrabble over another broken barricade, they suddenly hear a scratching sound. The gauntlet of a suit of antique plate armor has come detached... and come alive. It scrabbles across the ground, spider-like, though it lets one of its fingers drag stiffly behind it.

"Wait!" Kelam says before anyone thinks to attack the animated gauntlet, "Look!"

She waves away the mist, revealing that the gauntlet is, in fact, writing a message in the dust layered atop the Plaza's tile, writing in shaky High Realm characters...

"You were told to come alone."

Inspector Valin

2019-11-19, 07:35 PM

"Yes. Come alone, to a dead city on the borders of the Underworld, full of scavengers, crumbling ruins and poisoned mist! What could befall me on such a trip?!"

Wic laughs up at the sky. After so much death and misery, this little puppeteer act is almost quaint to the sorcerer. He bows, smiling at a point in the mid distence he fancies their foes to be watching from.

"I brought only two close friends. Not the Wyld Hunt. Nor my Elementals. I came to talk, not to start a fight but neither to give you an easy ambush target. If I was that stupid, would I really be worth your time?"

is my last roll paused while this plays out or is the Gauntlet linked? ^^

Also, Instil to try and get a minor intimacy of Forivas/Wic (charming) Late so apologies if my math's off. This should just be HPM, TDS and a free 1m Excellency

[roll0]

Ascension

2019-11-19, 10:14 PM

Dari:

Sorry I forgot your Case Scene action, Valin!
The animate hand is fortunate that Wic is in any mood to be civil, as it has distracted him on the threshold of an important realization... on the threshold of a sacred spot. There... just a few feet beyond the gauntlet's scrawlings... there where the next line of barricades is smashed to splinters, where the tile itself was shattered and broken, not by artillery fire or the blast of Rose's ultimate weapon, but by the fury of the hand-to-hand fighting... there Shining Ocelot fell, his body struggling to heal around the jade spears thrust into his flesh, the barrel of his moonsilver devil caster glowing so hot from repeated firing that it left a molten imprint in the tile when it spun out of his hand for the last time.

Ocelot was more administrator than warrior, but it still cost a full Sworn Kinship of Dragons their lives to bring him down. Yet, the Dragons could afford to pay such a cost. They could spawn more champions simply by procreating. But would there ever be a man such as Shining Ocelot again?

He...

"Wic!" Kelam says, with volume and intensity enough to suggest that this isn't the first time she's said his name, belatedly stirring the sorcerer from his reverie. "The gauntlet is writing again."

"If you wish to talk," the puppet glove has written, "enter the necropolis."

Forging on into Dari's underworld does not seem like a particularly inviting prospect, but the trio of explorers can't linger in the poisoned mists much longer without some respite... not while the fog's numbing touch keeps gnawing at their souls.

Everyone loses another 1 Willpower, and must make another Stamina+Resistance check.
Chalan:

Brown Leaf:

Swimming powerfully, never surfacing long enough for the poorly organized archers to get off a clean shot, Brown Leaf reaches the shore without trouble. She emerges from the water in front of a teenage boy, who seems instantly caught between terror, bewilderment, and a rapidly blossoming crush.

"W-where are you from?" he challenges her, in a shaky voice. "Are you from one of the H-Houses?"

Tuoni:

Tuoni's second leap brings him to shore some twenty feet away from Brown Leaf's point of emergence. After his obviously supernatural flight, the nearest archers back away in awe.

"When did 'macculate monks start wearing masks?!" one of them blurts out.

Skymoth:

I'm going to roll some Perception to see if anybody on shore noticed Skymoth's transformation. Could you give me a Dex+Stealth roll, Eurus?
[roll0]

Ascension

2019-11-19, 10:52 PM

Chalan:

One archer's eyes widen. By some stroke of luck, she caught a glimpse of something she wasn't meant to see, something which suggests an even worse turn of events than a landing by Immaculate monks or agents of the Great Houses of the Scarlet Dynasty.

"ANATHEMA!" she shouts, pointing down at the water, down where the fish who was, until a moment ago, a man dove into the sea.

The archers facing Brown Leaf and Tuoni tense up, their minds abuzz with fears and doubts.

Sticks

2019-11-19, 10:55 PM

Brown Leaf takes a deep breath, wipes water from her face, wrings out her undershirt and then answers the boy. "Naw, big man. We jes was comin' in t' head t' The Lap. I'm from Harborhead. You from here?" She points to the barricades, and the burning buildings beyond. "Why's a big man like you here shootin' innocent travelers? Why ain't you carryin' water or stampin' burnin' thatch?" She flexed out her shoulders and pectorals as she spoke, both to shake some water clear, and to keep the youth friendly. She'd noticed Kelam always seemed distracted when she did those particular movements.

Brown Leaf is trying to get the teenager on her side without giving anything away beyond the obvious. She is targeting his burgeoning intimacy and trying to strengthen it, in hopes that he'll advocate for her with the locals. CHA + Presence + TDS + Stunt
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

Malozing

2019-11-19, 11:26 PM

A tingling chill runs down Slang's back, and they grit their teeth, trying to focus on the task at hand. It doesn't help that Wic keeps becoming distracted with their surroundings. Whatever knowledge he is gaining from the flood of memories isn't worth the lack of awareness of the present, especially in this situation.

Slang moves close to Wic and whispers, "I know whatever you're seeing must be fascinating, but keep your head in the now."

Another chill runs down the Tya’s spine. From a pocket, Slang pulls a small pouch of dried brown flower buds and pours a few into their palm. Rubbing their hands together, Slang crushes the buds, and a spiced woody, earthy scent fills the air. "We need to focus, and finish this carefully and quickly.

Spending 3 motes from peripheral for excellenices. Stamina 3 + Resistance 4 + Stunt 2 - Penalty 1 + Excellencies 3 =10 Dice
[roll0]
[roll1]

pfm1995

2019-11-19, 11:34 PM

Tuoni tilts his head. "They... did not? I am Linowa, not 'macculate." Tuoni looks around him, taking in the fire and the men with bows with equal equanimity. "Why are you firing at us? We mean no harm. And why is your city on fire?"

Before the archer can respond, the cry of Anathema echoes around the docks and Tuoni, sagging, raises his head to the sky and swore softly in Linowa. Just once... just once... Was it too much to ask that even once they might walk through a city just as people, not recognized and chased and hunted and forced to intervene in all manner of local affairs? Luranume was supposed to be fair, wasn't she? He gave himself a moment, venting to the sky, before turning back to the archers. "I'm sure your friend is mistaken - there's no need for violence."

Eurus

2019-11-20, 05:16 AM

Underwater, Skymoth doesn't hear the cry of alarm go out. He's just focused on swimming, crossing the distance in what feels like mere moments. So, as if punctuating Tuoni's sentence -- "I'm sure your friend is mistaken" -- a tall, bare-chested man strides up out of the water and onto shore as if he'd simply been walking along the seafloor this whole time. Water pours off of his perfect body and his gleaming weapons, and he gives his cloak a shake before grimacing at how sodden it is.

Inspector Valin

2019-11-20, 10:08 AM

Wic grimaces at that prospect. Damn it - he should've had a plan in mind for the mist. Slang had outdone him with just a handful of humble herbs. He'd been hopeful for secret tunnels, alternate pathways, but the city is covered in rubble and debris. He shouldn't have left it at that. Shouldn't have put Slang and Kelam at risk like this, not when stepping into the shadowland as well.

But no. No, he is prepared. He's spent half his life studying the interplay of chemicals. Not so long ago he wowed some of the finest poisoners in all of the dreaming sea with his concoctions. He is, before all other things, an alchemist - he should be able to tackle this more directly. Trying hard to control his breathing, Wic closes his eyes and tries to think this through logically. The corruption is likely a result of necrotic essence, creating a somulant effect. So couple a purgative with some sacred, grounded ingredients to ward off the extra tinge...

Faintly, traces of Rose's memory start to rise. Who would know the original composition of the mists better than Dari's former queen? If Wic can focus through, try to think back to what his counterpart knew and combine it with what he can witness here and now. No one can outdo Wirric Stanton at the art of alchemy

Just as no one could claim Terrible Bloody Rose's city as their own.

Poison is something Wic knows a great deal about, both through his original upbringing, but especially following his time in Champoor under 7VS, where he picked up that handy dandy Crime specialty. That alone gives him 2 non charm automatic successes thanks to Harmonious Academic Methodology. :smallwink: I'm not sure if Bottomless Wellspring Approach triggers or not, since this is fine detail about the myths on Dari - the composition of the poison mists. If it does trigger, that's another autosuccess, all generated successes are doubled (so 4 pre roll) and Wic's trotting out Lore Inducing Concentration to help.

So that's somewhere between 3-7 automatic successes before I roll, with 6s rerolled until they no longer appear. I won't add Excellency dice - need to conserve essence. Rolling to ID the poison
[roll0]

Ascension

2019-11-21, 02:22 AM

Chalan:

Confusion reigns along the waterfront.

"What's a Linowa?"

"A fish! That man was a fish!"

"He's soaking wet; he must have just swum here!"

"Did you ever see him come up for air? He was a fish, I swear!"

"That's crazy talk!"

"That other man flew!"

Brown Leaf's admirer has a more pressing question: "I-if you're from Harborhead, d-does that mean you're married to a cow?"

A burly man with a Delzahn complexion comes around the corner of the nearest burning warehouse, hand on the hilt of his scimitar.

"What's all this, then?" he barks, and the archers' conversation comes to an immediate halt. A woman in a headscarf who looks to be in her late forties, the eldest among the archers, snaps to attention.

"Outsiders, sir!" she answers. "From that ship out in the harbor. We fired to warn them away, like you said, but these three made it to shore with... uncanny ease. They may be Exalted, sir!"

"But they haven't threatened us at all!" Brown Leaf's admirer interjects.

The Delzahn tenses. From his stance, and the faint trace of scarring on his cheek, he seems to be an actual combat veteran, unlike the half-trained archers.

"Chalan is undergoing civil war," he says bluntly. "If you lot are mercenaries, there's coin to be found here. If you're not... I don't recommend you stay."

Dari:

Mal: Slang's second Stamina + Resistance roll shook off the poison. Their penalty fades, and they won't automatically lose any more Willpower than they already have.

Valin: Wic's Lore there works as a means of diagnosis, but I still need that second Stamina + Resistance roll; knowing why you're being poisoned isn't the same as resisting that poison. He can roll Intelligence + Medicine at lowered difficulty afterward to mitigate the effects (and possibly help Kelam as well) by devising a treatment, though.
The mists of Dari were part of the city's original design, predating humanity. A precious gift from the Primordial Creators. With the city in ruins, however, elements geomantically vital to their production and function are either blasted into rubble or twisted hideously out of form. In fact, Wic realizes, recalling his... recalling Rose's analyses of the mists' function, long hours spent in awe of the complexity of Her design, that the problem is less what's been added to the mixture and more what's missing. The death essence seeping into the city's systems can't help, and the bitter, acrid scent cutting through the mists' perfume is not a good sign, but the root problem is that only the most basic element of the mists' effect is actually functioning. Ancient towers' foundations still produce the fundamental reagents which once deadened the aggression of the city's inhabitants, but without other ingredients to refine their effect, the mists are purely draining, sapping volition until its victims aren't merely incapable of aggression, but are, rather, incapable of any decisive action.

"Wic..." Kelam murmurs, her voice laden with mist-induced weariness, "the Underworld is, fundamentally, a memory. As many dangers as it may contain, as loath as I am to go there not knowing what we might face, the mists down there may be the mists of Dari-that-was, not the mists as they are now in Creation."

She swallows nervously, and grimaces... her saliva is bitter with the mists' poison.

"Following your foe's lead may be our best option at this point."

By the way, Valin, since you've diagnosed the mists' poison, it has the stats: Damage: 1 wp, Interval: 10 minutes, Duration: 60 minutes, Penalty: -1 (cumulative with repeated exposure), Vector: Inhalation. If they reduce a victim to 0 wp, the victim goes into a catatonic state.

Eurus

2019-11-21, 07:42 AM

Skymoth's only response is to casually wring some water out of his cloak and flash the soldiers a grin. Men in uniform aren't usually his thing, but he does appreciate a man who knows his way around a weapon, and the commander isn't bad looking, in a grizzled sort of way.

He leans over and whispers to Brown Leaf and Tuoni, covering his mouth with his hand so his lips can't be read. It's an exceptionally blatant gesture, but he flashes an "aren't-I-naughty" wink at the soldiers as he does it.

"Setting a civil war as a distraction, that seems like the kind of thing your Hortatum would do, yes?"

He turns back to the captain and bows, wetly swishing his cape.

"Think of us as altruists. Granaries burning means a harsh winter for everyone, so we'd prefer to see this resolved quickly. Who's fighting who, exactly?"

Attempting to seduce the soldiers and captain. Spending five motes on Perfect Symmetry for the scene.

Appearance 6 + Presence 2 + Stunt 2
[roll0]

Plus whatever bonus for appearance vs resolve I get.

[roll1]

Inspector Valin

2019-11-21, 07:43 PM

Wic hears Kelam speak, takes a second to think through her words before shaking his head. "Smart. But... those weren't better. Wouldn't kill but... still not great. Especially if they're ready for them."

He's evidently not doing as well as Slang or Kelam. While the good captain has almost shaken off the poison's effect, Wic is struggling to match their grit. He rests his hand within Lusus' spiked maw, hoping the sharpness and chill of metal will work to keep him centered. They might help. But they won't be enough.

[roll0] Stamina + Resistance

As Wic's body starts to fail him however, his mind is working overtime. The mists are wrong. Devolved into an endless, all consuming sopperific, beyond what even Rose had intended. But... perhaps its incomplete nature is the greatest blessing here. The mist is in a basic, simple, unrefined stage. That makes it as strong as hell, but he can replicate Rose's work, add refinements to control the effect, bring it back under control. Consider it a base awaiting its catalyst to temper it.

Only... perhaps not Rose's refinements. They can't afford to dull their edge with the pacification that the mists naturally led themselves to. They need something stronger, something greater. But he can consider this just... brewery. Rose, the old Titans, both had woven their own will upon the mists, now it's his turn! What would he add to a glass to give it fire, to urge folks onwards? What drink would Wic hand to a man about to fight for his life?

He's not thinking clearly, but with Solar essence pouring through his mind, instinct makes up the difference. From his pack, Wirric pulls a mixture of vials and herbs, taking a second to frantically start work on a concoction. He pours and sifts in mid air, just as he once did in Grandmother Bright's table, only this time there's less grace and more desperation to the Solar's motions. Kelam and Slang make out a rising scent of ginger from the alchemist's impromptu creation.

[roll1] Int + Medicine + Stunt - Penalty + 4 Excellency (Peripheral)

Ascension

2019-11-22, 03:27 PM

Chalan:

The mercenary captain's cheeks darken just a shade, and several of the archers fidget with sudden discomfort, as Skymoth demonstrates his beauty. The woman in the headscarf stares openly.

"These burning granaries may starve the Realm garrison in Harborhead," the Delzahn says, more a boast than a correction. "We strike a blow for freedom for the South."

The archers give a little cheer at that, but the mercenary continues, in a lower voice, primarily for Skymoth's ears, "...or so I'd like to say. But coin can chain a man more easily than a legion, and this 'People's Front of Chalan' is backed by Guild merchants. And it's we mercenaries who are putting in the work."

Raising his voice again, the man says, "Beyond us, you're better off asking who isn't fighting each other. It started with the Realm itself. The Mnemon satrap..." he pauses to allow the militia archers a chance to jeer at their former master, then continues, "...murdered the Ragara garrison commander in front of the court, killed one of her seconds for good measure, and then disappeared, leaving his own supporters leaderless. The remaining Realm hierarchy fell into infighting. Seeing an opportunity, the satrap's puppet king made a play for power, but so did an alliance of nobles shut out from the line of succession. And amidst the chaos, the raiding beasts from the Weepstone Waste grow more daring."

He shakes his head.

"Again, if you've no special love for Chalan, or for the Realm, or for coin, you've nothing to gain here."

There's a twinge of hurt in his eyes as he advises Skymoth to move on, but there's no sense risking such a man's perfect body in such a hellish war.

Dari:

Though, for a moment, the poison takes deeper hold on Wic, his improvised improvement to its formula is sound; the admixture he creates immediately revives him to full wakefulness and flushes the mists' venom from his system. But the question remains: Follow the disembodied gauntlet's guidance and venture down into the Underworld of Dari, or keep searching the city's ruins in Creation?

Wic briefly receives a second dose of the poison, but then immediately cures himself. While the 2 WP he already lost stay lost, he will lose no more, and he can spend another ten minutes in the mists without harm before he needs to roll to resist them again. (And making more antidote with Craft Alchemy could buy him more time, if he intends to ignore the gauntlet's invitation.)

Sticks

2019-11-22, 06:57 PM

Brown Leaf shoots Tuoni a hard look. "That Satrap...causin' chaos an' leavin'...sounds like we're on the right track."

She walks past the mercenary captain, towards the burning town. "Don't matter who comes out on top, guild merchants, puppet kings'r the Realm, war means common folk'r gonna starve an' die." She glares back at the Delzhen "Harborhead kin feed its garrison jes fine, all you done is destroy the reserves here so's the Guild 'kin come in an' sell grain at whatever price they want. All ya'll done is sell the folk here inta slavery, so's they don't starve."

She begins walking further past the barricades. "If'n one'a you wants t' start makin' ammends, come show me where the granaries at. I'll do the rest, we'll move on when the flames die down."

Inspector Valin

2019-11-22, 07:17 PM

Wic can't help but relish the chance for some clean air. He takes a few deep breaths, before finally rising to his feet and nodding to Kelam. "We don't have a choice. I'm reluctant to conduct this meeting on even part of our host's terms, but the odds are good that's where they're holding Drogath."

He gives Slang a wink before turning back to Kelam with a smile, gesturing to the three members of their party in sequence. "You know the Underworld. I know Dari-that-Was. And Slang has a clear enough head for the two of us. As long as they're here, we're as safe as can be."

Still, before they head onward Wic takes a few steps back, to the site where Ocelot had fallen. Leaning on Lusus, he bows his head. There's no god to rightly be prayed to for a soul so long dead, but thanks to Rose, he can remember Ocelot as he was. Smiling, bold, proud: a hero, twirling his flame-piece and grinning at some horrid monster. "You're pretty good!" echoes through his mind, and he stiffles a chuckle at Rose's nostalgia for a better time. He thinks back on what little he can recall of the man, his time with Rose, his own role in the government of Dari.

"Here rests a member of the Exalted Host. For better or worse, Shining Ocelot, you have my respect. I will do what I can to see that your story is preserved for days to come"

With those final words, the half-circle mark of the Twilight caste glows bright on Wirric's brow. Just for a second, enough to mark the moment. A fallen Chosen deserves no less, and if their foe is watching closely enough to catch it... well, it will let him know exactly who he's dealing with. Smiling grimly, Wic steps forward to Slang and Kelam. If they have no objection, he's happy to lead the way forward, into the shadow of Dari.

Eurus

2019-11-23, 11:31 AM

Skymoth nods slowly, half-listening to Brown Leaf. How should be approach such a delicate situation...

"Look, you saw me turn into a fish, right? So I'm going to ask you to give me the benefit of the doubt here when I tell you that I am a Bride of Ahlat -- in somewhat dubious standing, admittedly -- and I'm here on important business."

Nailed it.

"See, the thing is, I'm pretty sure Chalan has fallen into Anathema business. Some powerful, nasty fellows are trying to mess with the local geomancy, and I think they might have decided to start a war as a distraction. I mean, committing two very public murders and then disappearing? That has Anathema manipulation written all over it, it's exactly the kind of thing they do."

He's relying rather heavily here on the fact that nobody really knows just what kind of miracles and sorcery Ahlat's chosen are capable of, here.

"I'm all in favor of starving out the damned satraps, but we're going to need some help to prevent this entire section of the continent from becoming a wasteland, okay?"

Ascension

2019-11-23, 01:21 PM

Dari:

At the far edge of the plaza, the Exalts' exertion of will... and just a little bit of essence... sees them through into the Underworld of Dari, despite the untimeliness of the hour. Immediately they are on the steps of a still-standing palace, an echo of the grandness of Dari-That-Was (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GrX-QmcyhIA).

The main entrance of the palace is above ground level, requiring petitioners to climb to meet their masters... requiring them to climb up steps built on ever-so-slightly too large a scale for a comfortable human stride, making those who approach feel small in the shadow of greatness. Of course, the palace itself helps reinforce that impression... while its towers are made of a smooth, pearlescent material and are sculpted in soft curves, they arc to extraordinary heights, and with the mists gathered around their foundations, they seem to rise above the clouds themselves.

The mists themselves have a different flavor here in the Underworld, though still not the formula Wic recalls from another existence. Here the scent of votive incense overpowers the mists' perfume, the air heady with sacrifice.

The monumental bulk of the palace eclipses the Underworld's weak sun and casts Wic, Slang, and Kelam into deep shadow, but they can still see that enormous statues of Terrible Bloody Rose and of Shining Ocelot, Scepter and Orb in their hands, tower over the palace's grand doorway. Their faces spark poignant embers of memory in Wic's soul, his other life welling up inside him again. The doors themselves stand open in invitation.

"If this is the Hortatum," Kelam murmurs, "maybe this is how they avoided Ayesha's sight. Hiding beyond Creation?"

Chalan:

Brown Leaf and Skymoth's words send ripples of alarm through the archers, but the Delzahn mercenary simply frowns, and his hand returns to his scimitar's hilt.

"I know you lot mean well, and I like you, but... my duty is to see these warehouses burn. And while we may suffer with them, the Realm will suffer as well. Even with their stores, they can't afford the loss of this harvest."

The man's eyes plead 'Don't make me fight you.'

Sticks

2019-11-23, 04:25 PM

Brown Leaf scowls at the man, sees his reluctance to fight, and decides it's time to stop being nice. Paisap's resolute stand sometimes requires being firm in the face of opposition.

"Yer duty is t' set them fires an' ward off yer masters' enemies. You done that, you brought all yer force t' bear. We..." she steps up alongside the men sheltering behind the barricade, picks a particularly sturdy pile of barrels three high and two deep, and strikes with her fist. The inner row of barrels disintegrate, wood splinters flying, iron bands screech as they bend, twist and snap, the outer rows of barrels go sailing into the harbor, sending up a cacophony of splashes and flying water. She looks about at all the men, then to the mercenary captain. "...ain't begun. You done all y'can be expected t'do. Save yer men some hardship, ferget you saw us."

Brown Leaf is making an intimidate check of CHA+Presence+Stunt+TDS+Excellency (4) to get these guys to back down and not report the group, at least right away.

[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]
TDS re-rolls: [roll4]

Inspector Valin

2019-11-23, 06:06 PM

"That's a good theory. It's certainly possible. The Underworld is not bound by the laws of Yu Shan. That would include Fate. Coordination would be difficult but if all you have to do is set your pieces in motion, then wait..."

Wic hums, looking up at the statues. He can't hide a smile. For all their faults, for all their city's faults, Rose and Ocelot were a part of a better time. He used to wonder what Whitewall's old Solar Princes had been like. Now... he's seen it, if only a portion, and it warms Wirric's heart enough to overcome his skepticism. He turns around to glance across the skyline of Dari-That-Was, looking at a sunset that'd ended millenia ago with a wistful sigh at the glorious towers amidst the evening haze. The two Celestial princes were dogmatic, in hoc to some highly questionable forces, but he can't shake Rose's idea of Dari from his mind. Dari was perfect, structured, orderly and beautiful. Dari wouldn't have let scum like Wirric Stanton and his family operate unchecked. It was all the beauty, all the harmony, everything he'd ever loved about Whitewall with the flaws scoured clean, burned away in the crucible that'd given rise to Orb and Sceptre.

Are Rose's memories, her thoughts, beliefs and desires starting to overpower him? Or was this just... something Wic himself had buried, resonating with this woman and her tale? Perhaps that's why he keeps being overcome by it. He knows how it feels to want to set the world to rights. To want to just shake every idiot, every pompous official and indolent lawman and get them back to work putting things in order.

He turns back to the statues, the looming Palace of Dari-that-Was, and most importantly his two friends. "It seems strange to think of this place as 'secret'. But besides the kidnapper, I suppose nobody has been here since the First Age." He looks to Slang. "Captain, I know you like to keep to the shadows, but this place has me uneasy. I can tell you the layout but not who has taken up residence since Rose's day. Are you willing to keep with us for now?"

Malozing

2019-11-23, 10:14 PM

Slang nods. "Pretty sure that they know I am here. If I don't show up with you two, that might cause more trouble for us or Drogath."

Ascension

2019-11-24, 12:37 AM

Dari:

The palace's entry hall is magnificent, to be sure, a recreated wonder of First Age architecture, but none of the newly arrived Exalts have the wherewithal to pay it much heed. Despite the grand scale of the hall, it is utterly dominated by the loathsome thing (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dp3BlFZWJNA) erected at its heart.

Kelam lets out a cry of pain and anguish as soon as she lays eyes on it, and she claws at her scalp as the Whispers invade her thoughts, loud, overlapping, screeching, scratching Whispers, less a message and more a mental assault. Stigmatic blood wells at the corners of her eyes.

For Wic and Slang, the thing both draws and repulses their sight. It hurts to look upon, pain blossoming from their eyes and radiating through their skulls, but its presence, its wrongness, demands their attention.

It is a sort of cage and a sort of shrine. Vines of void-dark soulsteel rise from its base, twisting around each other in chaotic patterns, here and there spiraling into the shape of blasphemous pre-human runes. Thorns of blood-red crystal sprout from the soulsteel vines, and flowers of desecrated orichalcum bloom amidst the eye-searing runes. It allows no obvious door or opening. Though the awful cage stands in the middle of an open floor, equidistant from the two curving staircases situated on either side of the room, it is near-impossible to look past it. The effort of trying sears the eyes and sends the shadows beyond the cage into patternless motion.

By contrast, it is easy to look into the cage. Wic and Slang can clearly see Cathak Drogath kneeling at the center of the bleak prison, a thick collar of soulsteel edged in starmetal sealed around his neck, his hands bound in front of him. His face falls slack, but his eyes are fixed open in unyielding terror.

A spike of Soulsteel thrusts through the bars of the prison from behind Drogath, grazing his cheek and drawing an eager flow of blood. He groans, but hardly flinches... has he suffered so much that such pain no longer startles him? A tall shadow begins to circle around the cage, and its details gradually begin to resolve into visibility. The soulsteel spike with which the shadow menaces Drogath is revealed as the tip of a sort of parasol, flaps of ancient tanned leather furled around its shaft. The umbrella's wielder is incredibly tall and spindly, with an unnaturally bulbous head, her proportions all out of alignment with the natural human form. Her limbs and torso are wrapped in green silk, black leather, and sharp soulsteel plates. A cloak bristling with black feathers falls from her shoulders to sweep the floor. Her face is a Calibration mask, her eyes hidden behind black lace and feathers, her nose beneath a curving black bird's beak. Her cheeks and chin are white porcelain, and her unmoving lips are a vivid coral pink.

"The Black Heron..." Kelam breathes through gritted teeth.

"Use my full title, child," the Heron admonishes. "Announce me to your... friends."

"We... we stand in the presence of the Princess Magnificent with Lips of Coral and Robes of Black Feathers," Kelam says, "one of the thirteen lords of death."

"Yes... yes, you do stand. But if you value this little Dragon's life, as you must if you came all the way here for his sake, I ask that you show proper respect for my station. KNEEL IN MY PRESENCE."

After that bellowed command, the Heron's voice immediately turns sticky sweet as she promises, "and then we can talk!"

I could roll this as a Bargain action to try to convince you to acquiesce to her whims for Drogath's sake, but I trust y'all to give me the chance for a little more dialogue before going immediately into combat.
Chalan:

Over the last few minutes, the archers and their mercenary captain have been given plenty of opportunities to rethink the decisions which led them to this point in their lives, to this confrontation with a masked and foreign "Linowa" who takes gliding leaps through the air, a male "bride" who claims the power to transform into a fish, and an unorthodox monk with superhuman strength. This latest demonstration of the visitors' power seems to, at last, be the deciding factor in their internal deliberations.

While some mutter "gods come to save us" and a few say "monsters," some say "Exalts" and a few insist "Anathema," they are all united in the surety that they are currently eclipsed by a greater power.

"Go on, then," the Delzahn mutters, loath to admit himself to be so outmatched.

Inspector Valin

2019-11-24, 01:04 PM

Wirric Stanton is at a loss for words. He'd considered the possibility that Drogath's kidnapper was not the Hortatum, certainly, but he'd expected bandits, perhaps a dynastic group from some opposing faction in the civil war. A Deathlord? A potentate of the Underworld, like Kelam's erstwhile master or the Mask of Winters? Those thirteen grim spectres commanded Deathknights like Kelam, held the fate of nations in their hands. And now one stands before them.

He had not prepared for this. He has no plan, no idea that could work. A rough outline of the palace spirals through his head - some of Rose's old traps might have survived the mirroring effect of the Underworld, but what would be enough to forestall a threat like this? One whose like as not had time to prepare traps of her own? Who stands beside this strange monstrosity of a cage, and bound Drogath in a collar of metals only a master artisan could work?

Once more the chill winds of the Underworld blow down Wirric's back. No northern snow is quite this cold.

He takes a half second after the order to kneel, waiting until the Heron had finished speaking before complying. The northern sorcerer drops to one knee, letting his coat tails fall about him. He bows his head low, placing both hands to the floor and setting Lusus down level with the train of feathers. "An honor, your majesty."

That much is true. Terrifying, but an honor. Wirric holds the low bow for a second before reclaiming his cane and looking up towards the Heron's mask. He won't rise until she orders. This is not the time for testing the bounds of social propriety.

pfm1995

2019-11-24, 08:59 PM

Tuoni walks up next to Brown Leaf, doing his best not to roll his eyes at her extravagant display - colossal strength wasn't quite as awe-worthy now as it was when they'd first met. Though, it was still worth some awe and it had gotten the soldiers to stop pestering them. Maybe it could be used for more than that...

"You may be best served creating a fire-break." Tuoni said, trying to remember childhood survival lessons he'd promptly started forgetting once he was dating the literal goddess of deadwood. "Unless you think you can throw something in the water large enough to create a large wave."

Malozing

2019-11-24, 09:22 PM

Slang blinks rapidly, trying to ease the stinging pain. Drogath’s fearful expression and lack of a normal response have the Tya gritting their teeth. The sight of the metal collar wrapped around the Dragon’s neck didn’t anything to ease the anger slowly rising within them. This man had been tortured just because he knew Wic as Forivas. Dynast or not, Slang can’t reason the need to break him beside to control Drogath and Wic.

Good thing Wic didn’t come here alone.

Kelam and Wic’s responses to The Black Heron’s demands only further Slang’s dislike and anger. The Captain shifts in front of their friends protectively and goes down on one knee. However, Slang didn’t mimic Wic’s deep bow. They stare defiantly back at Princess Magnificent.

Ascension

2019-11-25, 12:45 AM

Dari:

Kelam's hand is on her sword... acquiescence to any Deathlord leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, after all she's risked to defy her own liege... but the Whispers screaming in her head make it hard to focus, and she won't be the first one to raise her weapon against the Black Heron, not with the life of Wic's friend at stake. She drops to one knee.

"Gooood," the Heron acknowledges. "Now we are ready to have that conversation."

She takes a step forward, though she keeps her parasol's deadly spike at Drogath's throat.

"'Tepet Forivas'... is that your true name, Solar?" she asks. Drogath shows a spark of life at that, his eyes widening. "I'm sure you're wondering why I called you here.... Why I went to such effort to encourage you to comply... You don't know, do you? You don't remember. Well! Let me give you a reminder!"

As the Black Heron's voice rises to a shout, the pyre-flames burning in sconces along the walls tremble, causing the hall's dim light to flicker.

"You took something precious from me, Forivas. Do you recall his name? Do you have any recollection of the man you killed? My Herald of Damnation?"

An odd sound from behind the Heron's mask might be an intake of breath. She calms herself.

"Well, in any case, the matter is quite simple. You stole a life from me, and I require recompense. And you, yourself, you're just the thing! If you would agree to become an agent of my will, Forivas, to serve in the Herald's stead, I would be quite happy to release your friend Drogath, and I could guarantee his and your other friends' safe passage out of Dari. Now..."

The Heron takes on a performatively empathetic tone.

"I know it might seem like a difficult, or even distasteful, change to become the servant of a Deathlord! But I assure you, I can make the transition easy for you. In terms of required skills, I already know you're perfectly capable of killing a man. And as for the rest..."

She gestures toward Drogath's prison with her free hand, and its soulsteel vines briefly writhe in parody of life.

"...this Monstrance of Celestial Portion could help you fit right in."

"Don't, Wic," Kelam urges. "Don't even think about it. That... that thing can break Solars. It would make you like me. I've... I've seen it happen before."

"And isn't that an argument in favor of trusting me?" the Heron smoothly interrupts. Though her painted lips remain motionless, her voice is full of smiles. "Forivas, you know from your friend's example that Deathknights are not slaves. You could take my offer, guarantee your friends' safety, and then attempt to betray me the moment they're beyond my grasp!

"Of course, if you did try that, I would see it coming. And you know that Drogath, at least, is fully vulnerable to retribution."

Though her tone is still saccharine sweet, Wic can feel the knife's edge of threat just beneath the sweetness.

"But let's not fret about unpleasant possibilities! I'm sure it won't come to that. In fact, I think you might enjoy working with me, Forivas. Drogath did tell me a little bit about you... or at least about the person he thought you were. If anything you told the poor boy wasn't a lie, well, it sounds like you're tragically accustomed to being undervalued. That isn't something you would need worry about in my service. As you can see from my response to my Herald's death, I treasure each and every one of my followers. Why... I wouldn't even begrudge you your hunt for this... 'Hortatum' you pursue, if you were sure to advance my goals alongside your own.

"So! What about it? Will you take my Herald's place?"

Inspector Valin

2019-11-25, 06:45 AM

Tepet Forivas is very quiet. A drop of blood falls from his palm - at the mention of the Heral'd name, he'd gripped Lusus hard enough to break the skin. Eventually, he rises to his feet. It's an effort not to shudder. After a few seconds to compose himself, he speaks.

"My name is Wirric Stanton, called by some the Devil of Whitewall. If I am to consider... this agreement, I should use and thus forfeit my true name, correct?"

That's why Kelam had chosen her name, rather than the title of Mourning Blade, correct? Her original name was no longer hers due to the nature of her Exaltation. Wic turns away from their gracious host, looking instead to his three companions. It's hard to make eye contact with any of them. After a brief glance, Wic turns his eyes downward, bringing up his hand to wipe his eyes. "I'm sorry, Drogath. And to you, Slang, Kelam. I put all three of you in harms way through this. I didn't realize the import of what I did in killing the Herald. Did not consider the danger that could follow that. I failed all three of you."

And isn't that the truth? After a long, haggard breath, Wirric looks up the looming Princess. In truth, his mind is elsewhere, running desperately back through Rose's memories, trying frantically to find something, anything to build a plan upon. He does not want this. He's been trusted with the glory of the Unconquered Sun, the power to do good and set the world to rights. Even from brief moments of conversation he's well aware of Kelam's issues, and that the life of an Abyssal is something completely different. Acceding to this request is a betrayal of Creation on a fundamental level. At his heart and soul, it would make him exactly the creature the Syndics accused him of being. He'd have handed the Underworld power entrusted to him by the highest of the Incarnae. He'd have proven the gods of Whitewall entirely right in their judgement of him!

But he can't see a good alternative option. If they fight, odds are good all three of his friends die and he gets shoved in the Monstrance anyway. He doesn't know enough of necromancy to divine a weakness in the bleak device's operation. And the Black Heron won't give him forever to hum and haw about his choice.

As the seconds tick away, Wic's doubts begin to flare up. How has he used the power of the Sun anyway? Petty fights at the request of his secretive would-be Sifu? Gang war in Champoor? Muddying Chairoscuo's essence lines? Snuffing out honest faith and offering nothing in its place? His work leaves destruction in its wake time and time again. Even in his old days, with his lab and subjects, he'd been a butcher and a half rate healer. Even Exaltation itself wasn't enough to allow him to truly help those around him.

And then there's the truth you never told the others. The one you only ever shared with Seven Venoms Sea. The one that cuts away this pathetic self indulgent idea that you can be a hero.

You miss your old work. Miss the chance to work without oversight, miss the chance to test your skills and let imagination rule you. You were proud of your craft, proud enough to ignore the price it paid on your captives. Proud enough to make excuse after excuse as to why you had to continue operating the ring, why you could ignore their screams at night. You blame the Syndics, the Guardians, your family, your patrons - anyone but the man who had every chance to bring the enterprise down but didn't. You.

So why not be honest? Why not accept an offer from a patron who would let you do exactly what you've always wanted to do?

He's not been a hero, not even a questionable one like Terrifying Bloody Rose. Just a pretender. A man who soothed his conscience with the idea of doing good. Back in the Arena, Leaf had told him that he was a good man because he sought redemption. And while he'd found it flattering, and perhaps a touch heartwarming, Wirric hadn't been able to truly agree with the monk's verdict.

After all, redemption is a quest for change. And Wic knows that underneath the title of Solar, he's still the same man he's always been. A coward, a wretch, a butcher and a fraud.

[roll0] If ever there were a time for a limit roll, it's now.

Malozing

2019-11-25, 11:28 AM

"No need to apologize, Wic. I would have finished him off even if you didn't step in." Slang glances over their shoulder to Wic. "He was a threat to the people there and needed to be taken out. Anyway, we can handle this."

Turning back to Black Heron, Slang stands with arms crossed. "The Herald sealed his own fate. He revealed his presence to the whole city. If he didn't die to our hand, he would have been killed by the Hunt that same night." The Tya scoffed. "I didn't need to flare my anima against him at all."

Ascension

2019-11-25, 09:25 PM

Dari:

"Boast away!" the Heron seethes at Slang's claim. "If you're volunteering yourself to take the Herald's place, I will take all comers, but if you merely seek to insult me, and his memory..."

The Deathlord lifts Drogath's chin with her umbrella's spike and trails its sharp point over his exposed skin.

"A Monstrance cannot simply produce a Deathknight from a Dragon-Blood... it requires a Solar Exaltation to work upon. But, as your other friend may have told you, the Black Exaltation is normally offered to a person on the threshold of death. Thus, I wonder... When a Dragon dies, does his Exaltation of blood fade fast enough to allow him to accept the power of the Abyss?"

She presses the spike a little harder into Drogath's skin, and blood wells from the point of contact.

"Will one of you volunteer yourself already, or must poor Drogath be the sacrifice? Now is the time to decide."

Kelam looks over to Wic, concerned about what he might do. She wonders if she should step forward herself. She's already Abyssal, after all. In that regard, the Heron could inflict no greater torment on her. But... she has no personal affection for Drogath, a man she has only met on the battlefield, and... she's come so far since she left her Deathlord, found so many beautiful things beyond his service. She can't go back now, she can't.

"Remember the cost, Wic," she urges.

She knows the sorcerer has a low opinion of himself, but... is this Dragon truly worth his self-destruction?

Malozing

2019-11-25, 11:11 PM

Stepping in front of Wic, Slang blocks the sorcerer’s kneeling form from The Black Heron’s view.

“Wic. Don’t you dare.” They hiss through gritted teeth.

Narrowed eyes turn to the Deathlord, gauging her. “I don’t trust you to keep your word. You’ll get me when Kelam gets Drogath far enough away from you.”

As they spoke of their terms, Slang slips into a shoulder-width stance with their tattooed hands behind their back. Their right hand partially in the pouch holding Serpent-sting and the left hand loosely grasping their right forearm.

Without waiting for Black Heron’s response, the Tya Captain turns their head to Kelam and speaks in Seatongue. “We can’t change the wind—” Slang holds Kelam’s gaze before switching back to Old Realm. “Trust me.” (https://youtu.be/tjJYxCxzVe4)

*INTERNAL SCREAMING*
Okay. Dexterity 4 + Larceny 4 + Stunt 2 = 10 Dice Also going to spend 5 personal motes to round out to 15 dice.
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

Inspector Valin

2019-11-26, 06:10 AM

"Captain..."

Wic is shaking a little. He trusts Slang. They're wise, quick witted, bold - he knows the good captain too well to think that this acceptance is genuine. This is the set up to a trick. One designed to get Drogath out of his cell, and all of them out of here with their hides intact. It's a tempting prospect - maybe Slang thought of something Wirric missed, maybe they've been in situations like this before, negotiating for the life of a crewmate. He wants badly to be convinced. He's sure Slang knows what they're doing. He's sure they want to save Drogath.

But the figure above them has him petrified. Wirric, for all his skill and knowledge of sorcery, can only guess at the providence of the Monstrance. A device that could sculpt an Exaltation? That is something he can barely conceive of, and the ability to operate it puts the Black Heron on a level he would not dare to trifle with. She knows exactly what odds are against her, two Solars and a Deathknight, and she's not shown one inch of fear or concern. Wic is just as sure that she would kill Drogath if she felt like it. Will she really be willing to hand over her bargaining chip?

It's an effort not to intervene. But for now he stands in place, tapping his fingers on his cane in time with Slang's footsteps. He's still trying to go over alternatives. Is there anything he can offer instead of one of the group? But what could compare to an Exalted champion? What did the Princess even want a champion for? Mask of Winters and Kelam's old master both sounded territorial, but he'd never heard of a city answering to this lady.

Yeah, this is just to establish a sorta 'ready to surrender' action. If Princess doesn't look like she's going to go for Slang's deal, Wic will step forward and accept the offer himself, to diffuse the situation.

Ascension

2019-11-26, 10:33 PM

"...but we can adjust the sails," Kelam mumbles, completing Slang's quote. The captain has a plan... Kelam isn't sure what it is, but they have a plan.

"Hmm... You offer yourself?" the Heron muses, examining Slang anew. They aren't who the Heron wanted, and she does not hide her disappointment, but... she's certain that some time in the Monstrance will smooth out the Tya's rough edges. "Fair enough. We have a deal."

She draws her umbrella back from Drogath's throat, opens it, and lays it over her shoulder. There are tiny soulsteel bells mounted at the tips of the umbrella's ribs, and the motion sets them jangling (https://youtubeloop.net/watch?v=qE8V__p5JLg). Their music is discordant, painful to the ear in the same way the sight of the Monstrance is painful to the eye, but the Heron seems untroubled by it. She keeps toying with the umbrella so that the bells keep on ringing.

At some unspoken command, perhaps a subtle rhythm of the bells, the Monstrance comes alive, its vine tendrils parting and twisting in new patterns. An opening like a birth canal yawns wide, and Drogath is physically ejected from his cradle of thorns, briefly falling on his hands and knees before collapsing completely to the floor.

"Come closer," the Heron beckons to Slang. "Your rebirth awaits."

The Heron is inviting Slang to come within Serpent-Sting's reach, but even with their plan already underway, it's difficult for Slang to press on in the face of those awful bells. Shadows swim at the edge of their vision, and a black whisper scratches at the edge of their mind...

Okay, a few things here:

1.) Per usual with unexpected attacks, Slang and the Heron both need to roll Initiative to see if Slang's attack will be an ambush (if Slang rolls higher Initiative than their opponent) or simply a surprise attack (if Slang doesn't roll higher).
2.) However, I also need you to roll a Wits + Integrity roll, Mal. If it fails, Slang will lose a little Initiative to the bells, and they'll inflict penalties on Slang's actions.
3.) Valin, you might as well roll Initiative as well, while we're at it. The Wits + Integrity roll can wait until his action comes up.

Inspector Valin

2019-11-27, 08:25 AM

Wic moves forward to Drogath's side, helping the Dragon Blood to the side of the hallway and away from the mouth of the Monstrance. He watches as Slang draws closer to the same spot, tense and ready for whatever's about to happen. He won't let Slang pass that threshold, no matter what the Black Heron may have in mind.

Wits + Awareness + Cloud of Ebon Devils - aiming at Princess Magnificent.
[roll0]

Malozing

2019-11-27, 07:30 PM

The bells cut through Slang’s train of thought, and with each step, it becomes harder for them to focus on their plan. The dark voice murmurs promises, which Slang tries to ignore, but the shadows begin to press in.

"Your rebirth awaits."

In a sense, Slang has been reborn twice already. First, from a scrawny girl wanting more than her standard restrictive role to a wiry Tya exploring open waters. Then from a mortal sailor watching mutated sharks pick off the injured crewmates to Solar captain leading and protecting their crew. What’s another rebirth? It’s nothing new to Slang, so why not? The hand gripping Serpent-sting loosens its hold.

“Don’t forget I choose you first,” Zalm’s steady voice cuts through the haze settling over Slang’s mind. “Don’t forget where you come from.”

Memories flood forward, shoving aside the dark whispers. The chats with Zalm as the then-Captain tattooed Slang, helping the younger Tya decide on choosing a new name. Old Medisch, one of the first victims of the sharks, teaching Slang how to make the salve for rope burns. The comradery during every voyage. Blue joining the crew after Slang’s exaltation, the first new crew member of their captaincy. How everyone wanted to stay with Slang even when their exaltation stirred up trouble with the stationed Dynasts and the Feathered One.

“You’re Tya first. And if the Sun don’t like that, screw him.”

Slang glances away from Monstrance and to Heron and her open disappointment.

And screw her.

Wits 5 + Integrity 0 + Stunt 2 = 7
[roll0]
[roll1]

Slang’s hand tightens around the section-staff again. Counting the last few steps, Slang pulls the black jade staff and swings it out at Heron.

Wits 5 + Awareness 4 + Stunt 2 = 11
[roll2]
[roll3]
+3

"I'm not easily broken or cowed."

Malozing

2019-11-28, 09:49 PM

One should always be alert when dealing with a serpent, even one seemingly docile. Advice that Heron either never heard or decided not to follow.

Like an agitated cobra, Slang change directions quickly to face the Deathlord, thanks to the momentum from swinging Serpent-sting at the Deathlord.
The staff’s tip gleams in the strange light of the Shadowland as it strikes Heron’s wrist. With a flick of Slang’s wrist, Serpent-sting coils around the Tya, tense and ready for another attack.

Withering Attack!

Dexterity 4+ Martial Arts 5 + Serpent-sting 3 + Stunt 2 = 14

Spending 3m for Striking Cobra Technique, which adds Slang’s Dexterity to the withering attack damage pre-soak.

Attack: [roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

Damage: [roll3]
[roll4]
[roll5]

Ascension

2019-11-28, 10:37 PM

The Heron's mask is expressionless, but her shock is still evident in the way her body recoils as serpent-sting suddenly strikes. Caught off-guard, she can provide no defense as Serpent-Sting's fanged tip finds a seam in the Deathlord's fashionable armor and strikes home...

And then a calm, collected voice speaks from over Slang's shoulder.

"You're not easily broken or cowed, no. Deluded, however..."

The hateful sound of the bells reasserts itself, their clangor filling Slang's ears as the illusory form of the Heron in front of Slang dissolves, revealing that the captain is facing a different direction than they thought they were. It wasn't the Heron they just struck... it was Wic.

Since that was a Withering attack, Valin, I need you to roll Initiative for Wic so we can see what the damage is. Also, we're definitely entering combat timing from here.

For future reference, the Heron rolls against Resolve to redirect her enemies' attacks, so anyone with the Integrity Excellency or similar can boost Resolve to try to keep this from happening again. From the wording of the effect I'm borrowing, I don't think Intimacies will help (or hurt) like they can in social influence, but I'm open to hearing arguments in Discord.

Ascension

2019-12-03, 11:04 PM

"Don't take it as disrespect when I point out your weaknesses," the Heron cautions Slang. "I know your strengths are great; I know you're no opponents to trifle with. I was a Solar myself once, after all."

Her laugh is underscored by an awful clatter of bells as she closes her umbrella and gives it a playful swing.

"And I get a reminder each and every time I kill one of you! So, of course, I prepared for your arrival..."

The clank of metal against metal draws Slang, Wic, and Kelam's attention to the margins of the entry hall. There, in the shadows beneath the guttering pyre-flame sconces, are empty suits of armor, similar to those in the plaza's shadowland... similar, but not identical. These suits are finer, and though they are of ancient make, their material is incorruptibly unblemished. As the Exalts watch, the empty plate stirs and rises, animated as if by some unseen puppeteer. They assemble themselves into human shape, five of them, one in each natural color of jade, an echo of the usurping Dragons who once hammered at the gates of this palace. Crude swords, axes, and hammers levitate from the ground to fit into their gauntlets.

"This shouldn't be possible," Kelam gasps. "We're in the Underworld now... We should have seen any ghosts."

"Oh, certainly you should have," the Heron taunts, "but it looks like you missed a few. Are you... blind?"

She opens her umbrella again, and darkness spreads from beneath it, an unnatural shadow which swiftly spreads to eclipse Wic and Slang's vision. The pyre-flame sconces are instantly snuffed out.

In the darkness, the clangor of bells and the scrape of metal over stone are the only warnings Slang and Wic get before they are attacked. The soulsteel spike of the Heron's umbrella strikes at Slang's head, while an animated armor's axe whistles through the fragrant air toward Wic's torso.

"Watch out!" Kelam shouts. Can she still see through the shade, somehow? In any event, the soft sounds of her well-worn armor, much more noticeable than usual in the utter darkness, suggest her readiness to fight despite the Whispers still screaming in her head and the poisoned mist still eating at her will.

Okay, a few notes about the darkness: Wic and Slang are effectively Blind at the moment. For some reason, Ex3 Blindness does not penalize Defense, but their attacks and other vision-dependent rolled actions will be made at a -3. The light from animas and Wic's firewand can't dispel this darkness or negate the blindness penalty, but could be used in stunts to create brief openings to justify / embellish attacks and defenses.

I should also note that this post doesn't cover all the NPC actions before Wic; we'll try to resolve the two attacks made here, and then I'll resume posting for NPCs.

Heron's Withering Attack vs. Slang:
Attack: [roll0]
Damage (Base 17, minimum 5): [roll1]
Armor #5's Withering Attack vs. Wic:
Attack: [roll2]
Damage (Base 12, minimum 2): [roll3]

Kelam non-reflexively activates Single Point Shining Into the Void Form. Her open opposition to a Deathlord is going to garner some Resonance dice (and I'm realizing retroactively that I could've been meaner about rolling Resonance for her in the past, but... oh well):
[roll4]

Malozing

2019-12-05, 12:27 AM

“Wic! Stront!”

Slang shifts into a more defensive stance next to Wic and mutters to the sorcerer. “That didn’t go nearly as well as I hoped. Sorry.”

The armor rising at Heron's command concerns the Tya, but when the unnatural darkness fell, Slang cursed internally. Getting everyone out of here in one piece, let alone alive, just became immensely more complicated. Knowing Wic, the Twilight wouldn't want to just abandon Drogath. They had already left that blinded Fire Immaculate in Champoor, and Wic's conscience won't let that happen again. What is it with Fire Dragons and Wic?

Though the Tya couldn't see, Heron's awful bells chime with every movement that the Deathlord made. Slang ignores Heron’s taunting words and tries to just focus on the bells and their position and speed

Suddenly, Slang shifts their weight and leans to one side. A section of Serpent-sting flies into a position to redirect the attack; that is if Slang could trust the sounds and echoes of the inharmonious bells. The Tya's Anima flares against the blinding darkness briefly.

Okay. I am spending 1wp and 3m for Drifting Shadow Focus. If Slang is successful in dodging Mag's attack, I am hoping to have the attack redirected to the armor going for Wic. I am spending 4m for Dodge Excellencies for +2 to Slang's evasion. If that is still not quite enough, 2 more motes for Serpentine Evasion for "after the attack roll" if that can tip the balance.

Before Serpentine Evasion, Slang has 6 Evasion. If Serpentine Evasion goes into effect, 7 Evasion.

Sticks

2019-12-15, 05:42 PM

Brown Leaf sighs. "A fire-break's prolly the best bet." She switched to Old Realm, conscious of the onlooking militia. "Our cover's already blown enough, 'tween me'n Skymoth. Best t' not advertise we 'kin do more'n they've seen already. I don't think they'll hold their tongues longer'n we're in sight'a town."

She strides down the street, heading for the nearest fire. Once in sight, she watches the smoke to judge the wind, then strikes load-bearing points of the burning buildings. Smouldering timbers crash down, sending up cascades of sparks and smoke, but smothering the blaze. The buried coals will be hot for days, but she is satisfied the fire will not spread. She makes for the next burning building to repeat the process.

Not terribly happy about this post, but it gets things moving. Leaf is making a Strength+Athletics check with her Demolition specialty, and I'm leveraging her Craft [Carpentry] specialty to justify her expertise in these matters, though it doesn't change the numbers. Speaking of numbers: STR+Athletics+Specialty+Stunt
[rollv3d10[/rollv]
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]

Ascension

2019-12-15, 09:13 PM

Slang:
Serpentine Evasion is necessary, but Slang dodges, and the Heron's attack goes into the armor attacking Wic.
In the brief flash of Slang's anima, they're rewarded with the sight of the Heron's thrust umbrella crashing hard into the pauldron of the animated armor assaulting Wic, throwing it off balance. While neither the Heron's mask or the armor's empty helmet displays any expression, Slang fancies they can see the ghosts' shock as the captain turns the Heron's own trick against her.

Chalan:

The thunder of crashing timbers is far from subtle, and the blaze has already spread far enough through the warehouse district that it takes some time for even a woman of Brown Leaf's strength and ability to bring all the burning buildings down, but after several minutes of labor and sweat she succeeds.

By the time she's struck the last of the blazing warehouses into timbers, a crowd has begun to gather at a safe distance, watching with wary curiosity. The onlookers are simple folk, from the looks of them... but in a time of civil war, how can anyone be sure of the distinction between civilian and combatant, or sure of any citizen's allegiance in the city's shifting tapestry of power? It's safe to assume that word of the presence of powerful strangers is spreading through the city.

I'm willing to prod you guys with specific outside stimuli towards action, but I'm curious, just based on what they've heard about Chalan's civil strife so far, what Leaf, Tuoni, and Skymoth might choose to do next.

Inspector Valin

2019-12-16, 05:18 AM

Wic is not as fast as perhaps he should be - this fight is far from playing to his strengths, now denied the benefit of vision. His mind is distracted by the implications of their new foes. What had they missed? How had the Princess pulled this trick? Illusion? Some specific enchantment? Or... wait, did she just say she was once a Solar?!

Nonetheless a hunk of metal speeding towards his face makes even that revelation take a backseat briefly. Wirric raises his cane to the armor's midsection, pushing back against the ghost's suddenly unbalanced torso to drive himself a good distance back from the clanking creature's axe swing. No matter what thoughts go through his head, at this point self defense is an instinct for the Righteous Devil.

And besides. Dodging a desperate lunge in the dark is hardly new to me.

No motes, stunting Dodge to 5

pfm1995

2019-12-17, 11:46 PM

Tuoni watches impatiently as Brown Leaf goes about her work, waving away her whispered explanation in Old Realm. When she was finished, he approached. "Well done, the city will be spared the worst of the fire. Not that that will help them, when the food shortages set in and their childrens' bellies shrink, but that is a doom of their own making. Unless our newfound friend," he gestures Skymoth over, "has truly remarkable tracking skills the Mnemon scion who started this is long gone. If it even was a Mnemon scion, given our quarry's apparent ability to change faces. Either way, I think we're best served by moving on. This smells of a distraction."

Truthfully, with a crowd of this size assembled it might be possible to restore order, or at least put a stop to the rioting. But what could Tuoni say? He didn't speak their language and his skills were in stories told 'round a campfire, not speeches to angry crowds. Theirs was an fire all of their own, and it will rage until it is spent.

Ascension

2019-12-18, 11:05 PM

Out of the darkness, Wic and Slang hear a chorus of anguished moans, close by, but muffled. The Mourning Blade has not been unsheathed, but the torment of the souls within, magnified by the Neverborn's wrath against the sword's wielder, has reached such a fever pitch that their agony is audible through the wards of the blade's scabbard. The preternatural veil of darkness filling the room trembles at the sound; it squirms against Wic and Slang's exposed skin.

Despite the ill omens, Kelam embraces a grim determination. If she and her friends fail here, at least one of them, if not all, will be condemned to the fate she herself narrowly escaped from, in thrall to the forces of Oblivion. Therefore, no matter the odds, they must not fail.

Facing one of the animated suits of armor, she deals a blow with her sheathed blade which sends it reeling, its limbs trembling as the spirit within struggles to maintain its hold. One of the stricken war ghost's allies attempts to retaliate, but she parries its attack with contemptuous ease. Kelam's desperate anger drives her onward, a fury which will find no fulfillment until she tests whether the dead can die.

While she fights two on one, however, she cannot prevent another one of the war ghosts from advancing on Wic, the corroded blade of its short sword thrusting at the alchemist.

Okay, Kelam withering attacked War Ghost #3 on the Mourning Blade's turn, Crashing it (and thus delaying its action until the end of the round). She also activated Liquid Steel Flow, and spent the WP to prolong it until she makes a Decisive attack. War Ghost #2 withering attacked her in retaliation, but missed.

Now, War Ghost #4 is making a withering attack against Wic, and once this attack resolves, unless it reduces his Initiative below 4, it'll be Wic's turn. Don't forget that 1.) Wic needs to roll Wits + Integrity before his action. If he fails the roll, he loses 2 Initiative to the Heron and will take a -3 penalty to his actions for the turn, and 2.) vision-reliant actions (including attacks) are at a -3 penalty due to effective blindness, which would stack with the penalty from a failed Wits+Integrity roll.

Oh, also, Wic's at a -2 Onslaught penalty since he's been attacked by Slang and War Ghost #5 this turn.

As for War Ghost #4's attack:
Attack: [roll0]
Damage (base 12, minimum 2): [roll1]

Inspector Valin

2019-12-19, 04:06 AM

Blood and fire!

Wic's skill at evasion hasn't been tested so sorely in quite a while. Yet even without his vision, he can hear the clank of the ghost's movements, feel its sword cut through the writhing cloying cold of the darkened air. The sorcerer pivots, falling low, but pulling himself aloft with Lusus before the ghost can take advantage of that. It might have vision, but so long as he was careful, in the darkness Wic still has speed in his favour.

Let's throw a couple of motes its way this time. 2m Dodge Excellency - bringing defense to 3, stunted to 4.

Inspector Valin

2019-12-21, 07:11 PM

Still ahead. Still breathing. Wic takes a second to smile, a spark of hope flickering in his heart even through the midst of darkness. He can't see them, but he knows Kelam and Slang stand with him. The thought of the two fighting by his side, even against so fark a threat as one of the rulers of the Underworld, gives Wirric hope he hasn't felt in a long time. Hope that radiates, that rises above the distant jingle of the Princess' jangling bells. Wic closes his eyes, focusing as intently as he can on that feeling. In a battle like this, inner strength is as important as physical might.

2m on this roll, and a stunt
[roll0] Wits + Integrity

Inspector Valin

2019-12-22, 10:02 AM

It works. Wic smiles to himself. He can focus past the melody of those doleful bells, let the Black Heron's conductor like direction pass him by.

But that doesn't mean he needs ignore the sound. Quite the opposite in fact.

With a theatrical step forward, Wirric twirls his cane. As he does so, he listens quite intently to the bells, spinning so nimbly around the Princess Magnificent's oversized head. He's seen the Deathlord and her weapon now, and the sound allows him to paint a picture of the weapon's movement. It takes concentration, but soon enough he sees the image of the Black Heron in his mind's eye, twirling that majestic thirteen tipped parasol through the stilted air of Forgotten Dari like some misplaced courtly dancer.

Rose would not approve.

With a satisfied smirk, the burning half-sun upon Wic's brow flares to life as he points his cane right where it needs to be. A jet of pure golden light bursts forth, coursing through the darkness.

Right at the handle of the Umbrella of Discord.

Okay. This is a gamble. Wic's going for a Disarm gambit on Princess Magnificent. She might have some kind of perfect defense, or just be good enough to intercept, IDEK. The dark is penalizing Wic's roll anyway. But getting that Infernal Instrument away from her could do wonders for the tide of battle, so Wic's going to at least take the shot and give it his best try.

10m Excellency, Kiss of the Sun Concentration

[roll0] Basic (11) + Stunt 2 + Aim 3 - blind 3 + Excellency 10

Ascension

2019-12-28, 12:28 AM

As Wic focuses clearly enough on the bells to target the umbrella by their sound, that awful jangling intensifies and... spreads? Shifts? At the crucial moment, as his finger tightens on the trigger of Lusus, the discordant noise seems as if it could be coming from anywhere, or everywhere... In this darkness, in all this commotion, does he truly have the right target?

The Heron is rolling against Wic's Resolve to redirect his attack. He can't boost it with Intimacies, but since he has the Integrity Excellency you can boost it that way if you like.
[roll0]

Inspector Valin

2019-12-28, 09:43 AM

Doubt. Hesitation. A second layer to the effect, enough to make him miss the perfect moment for the shot. If Wic hesitates, if his grip falters an iota, it could be enough to spoil the angle. And they're enough to make most mortals shudder, to make them think of a funeral peal or some twisted clown.

But to Wic, the bells make him think of Whitewall. Of winter snow on cobbled streets, fine temples, good people. The Solar focuses on that image - the good city, standing strong against the winter snow, the fae, the dead and everything else. His arm feels like it's made of that same white stone - rooted and imobile in the northern winds.

He takes one final, deep breath. And pulls the trigger.

Stunt to 5, 2m Excellency for 6

Sticks

2020-01-01, 11:45 PM

Brown Leaf groans and streches. Then nods to Tuoni. "Yer prolly right. I hate t' leave a job unfinished, but this'd take weeks t' clear up. We should move on..."

She looks over to Skymoth. "How far d'you think we'd have'ta get outta town 'afore you could fly us further inland? We might need t' move faster'n I thought."

Eurus

2020-01-03, 10:38 AM

Skymoth chuckles. "If you mean how far do we have to go for me to take off without knocking over any buildings, a few minutes should do it. If you mean without being noticed... a Sky Titan in the air will be visible for miles. But maybe people have other things to pay attention to right now."

Ascension

2020-01-04, 10:30 PM

Dari (Underworld):

For a moment, the brilliance of Lusus's sun-bright flame splits the darkness, leaping across the short distance separating Wic from the Heron. For a moment, she holds the Umbrella of Discord firm against that flame of judgment...

...but the spark of the Sun in Wirric Stanton's soul ruled Dari (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ONbPuEj1sVM) long before the Black Heron's shade stumbled upon its ruins. With a final violent jangle, the usurper's parasol is ripped from her hands and goes spinning out into the blackness. The utter shadow remains, and its darkness quickly swallows the combatants again, but the dreadful bells fall silent, and with them the loathsome whispers scratching at Wic and Slang's minds.

With the umbrella out of the Heron's hands, no more need for Wits + Integrity rolls every round, and she can't redirect attacks, either.

With a strange rattling of armor plates that sounds almost like a roar, another war ghost, the third to target Wic, comes charging at the Righteous Devil, eager for vengeance against the man who took the music away. But what could such a peon do against Dari's Solar lord?

War Ghost #1 Withering attack vs Wic. Wic's Onslaught is -3 now after previously being attacked by Slang and two of the War Ghosts, and the cost of that Disarm put him to 1 Initiative, so he actually is vulnerable here.

Attack: [roll0]
Damage (12 base, minimum 2): [roll1]

Another one of the war ghosts, struck heavily by Kelam earlier, lashes out at her, but she deflects its axe with the pommel of her sword and then follows the motion through, turning into a brutal slash against the animated armor fighting alongside her attacker.

On the Mourning Blade's turn, Kelam is making a Withering attack against War Ghost #2, still in Liquid Steel Flow.

Atttack: [roll2]+1 success
Damage (base 19, minimum 5): [roll3]

Inspector Valin

2020-01-05, 07:17 PM

In that moment of triumph, the half sun mark on Wirric's brow flares a glorious, shining gold. For just a second the Solar is a beacon of light in the occluded room, proud and majestic in his sun granted majesty. Soon enough the darkness flows around him once again, but it is not quite enough to swallow the image flickering into existence above him. Not, perhaps, the image that Slang and Kelam might've expected. Wrought from flickering motes of golden light, it was obviously ephemeral, yet the likeness to the great figure depicted on the mighty statue outside is uncanny. A face with all the imperious majesty the Scarlet Empress had ever aspired to, a firm jaw, piercing eyes and long flowing hair that falls neatly down around her neck

"Heron Clad In Stolen Feathers of Tattered Ebony." Terrible Bloody Rose intones, glaring down at the Deathlord with nothing but disgust written on her face. Her words come from the mouth of Wirric Stanton, yet they echo and reverberate across the entry chamber, making the plates of the ghostly combatants shudder and chatter as dust slowly falls from spectral walls. The Monstrance creaks and groans, as if this storm of sound might rend it asunder bar by bloodstained bar

"Whatever realm this might be, this... is Dari. City of Order. This is MY CITY. You and your perversions are not welcome here."

As this goes on, the body below is fighting almost on instinct. Wic's eyes are unseeing as the warghost draws closer, the sorcerer subsumed in Rose's seething anger and resentment. But as the creature draws closer, with a jerky, puppet like motion the flame cane rises to meet its lunge, twisting through the air as the sorcerer catches it nimbly by the lion, drawing the cane back and down upon the lunging War Ghost to drive it past him. Even with Wic full faculties denied to him, this body had all the instinctual memories that came from half a life time of devoted practice of the Righteous Devil form, married to the majestic intent of a Prince of the Earth. The idea that any figure could hurt such a luminary is comical.

Okay, I'm gonna make the spend official right now. Past Lives 5. And given how we established that background to work, odds of Rose subsuming Wic are hiiiiigh

Wic's reflexively activating Righteous Devil form. Running with the rules we established for Past Lives, gonna throw those bonus dice onto this roll.

[roll0] Intimidation against Mags and the War Ghosts.

This also lets Wic parry! His base is 7 with a stunt, -3.... Will spend 2m for 5.

Ascension

2020-01-06, 12:08 PM

It's unnecessary, but I'm going to give that Intimidation a stunt upgrade as well. It affects all the enemies; the Black Heron spends WP against it, but Wic can still aim Reflexively at her.

...or, rather, Rose can, because for the next five hours Wic is overwhelmed by her memories and subsumed by her personality. This should be fine! *nodsnods*

"You can't be here!" the Black Heron hisses, her masked face staring up at the face writ large in Wic's anima banner. "You're nothing but a memory! Not even a ghost!"

Where their mistress spits defiance, however, the simple war ghosts possessing the ancient Dragons' armor tremble. They are now caught between two awful matriarchs, and no matter the result of the war between the Queen of Dari and the Princess Magnificent, they know that they will suffer.

pfm1995

2020-01-07, 12:30 AM

Tuoni only half-listens to Brown Leaf and Skymoth, instead entranced by the crackling, crashing cacophony of a whole coast's future vanishing into flames. To just burn food... things were different here, he knew, but such a thing would be unthinkable in Linowa. In the cold north hunger dogged every shadow, and men did desperate, horrible things to escape it's twisted fingers. In the shadows, a memory unbidden rose: a bloody-handed goddess, naked and with eyes like a hound's, smiling with all too-human teeth. All of their darkest tales involved men being driven mad with hunger, and even in the worst of the Bull of the North's assault no one had stooped this low. What had the Realm done, to deserve so much hate they'd kill their own children just to spite the Isle?

Smoke curled around him, never marring his mask but tickling his lungs nonetheless. The sudden coughing fit was enough to bring him back to the present. "Then we should leave before we waste any more time, and damn those that think they might keep up with us - they have larger problems they should be seeing to." He said simply, and looked to Skymoth. He'd not yet seen the Lunar transform, he was curious.

Malozing

2020-01-07, 03:11 PM

The anima banner bearing the face of the female statue outside and the feminine voice echoing from Wic's lips startles the Captain, but Heron's words bring Slang's focus back to the fight at hand. Whatever Wic is doing, it’s put Heron on edge, and Slang is willing to take advantage.

Though the darkness edged out the brilliant light of Wic's anima, Slang recalls where Heron stood when confronted with Dari's matriarch. They shift their stance and whip Serpent-sting forward, a pale glow of essence flowing from Slang through the segmented staff to the Deathlord.

"Well, she is here whether you like it or not. Maybe you ought to be worrying about this fight and not how she got here."

Withering Attack with 3m spent on Striking Cobra Technique and 5m on Excellencies.

Martial Arts 5 + Dexterity 4 + Serpent-sting +3 Stunt 2 – Penalty 3 + 5 Excellencies = 16 dice

Attack
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

Damage
[roll3]
[roll4]
[roll5]

Ascension

2020-01-10, 01:48 PM

After the Heron is struck by Slang's attack, a tremor of power ripples through the darkness and a chorus of blasphemous voices (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hs59egXnb3c) rises around the Deathlord once more. These do not claw at Rose and Slang's minds the way the whispers of the bells did, instead they strike a votive note, like an awful prayer or invocation. The Heron begins to laugh, a bitter laugh tainted by hatred and by madness.

"Fine, Fine! I didn't give you enough credit! But your heroism, your majesty, is meaningless in the face of the Void. Fight and strive all you want, still, in the final reckoning, death will hold dominion over all. Over you, over Dari, over Creation itself!"

The Heron gestures, and a cloud of fog spreads through the darkness, heavier than the mists of Dari. Its scent is unfamiliar to Slang, but for Terrible Bloody Rose it sparks memories spread across two separate lifetimes, memories too personal to be forgotten or suppressed. The Princess Magnificent with Lips of Coral and Robes of Black Feathers has called up the Mists of Eventide.

Kelam, her death-touched vision unhindered by the uncanny darkness, can see that the Heron is not finished casting spells. With gritted teeth and force of will, Kelam shrugs off the poison spreading through the mists, and as the Heron continues to gesticulate, and raises her own voice in maddened praise of the Neverborn, the swordswoman launches herself away from the war ghosts she has been fighting.

The Mourning Blade screams free from its sheath as Kelam flashes across the distance between herself and the Heron. A cacophony of sobbing rises to join its wail, Kelam's iconic anima crying out a counterpoint to the Heron's profane prayer. Just before Kelam's sword strikes, the Heron takes a half step back and holds up her hand. Points of concentrated shadow precipitate out of the darkness, crystallizing into solid blades, a screen of knives.

An uncanny purplish glow from Kelam's anima, the last light of the dusk, breaks through the shadow for a split second, illuminating the scene for Slang and Rose's eyes. Kelam's face is frozen in a defiant snarl, glaring up at the impassively beautiful mask of the Heron. The Mourning Blade, mid-swing, is a blur of darkness, an arc of pure killing intent. The Heron's glittering blades hang in the air, poised on the brink of lethal motion.

Then the sword strikes, the knives fly, and the shadow falls once more. Kelam skids past the Heron, the momentum of her furious charge carrying her on past her target. For a moment she thinks she may have struck true, but then a sudden wave of pain strikes her. She draws deeper on the essence of the grave to numb its sting, and she catches herself short before she falls to one knee, but blood flows still flows from a dozen small wounds where the Heron's knives sliced cleanly through her battle-worn armor.

Slang and Rose have little ability to wonder or worry what may have become of Kelam, however, as the hail of knives cuts on through the darkness, angling toward them as well, strength unabated.

So, casting spells is Reflexive as long as you have enough sorcerous motes to cast them. What happened here is that the Heron used a Reflexive shaping ritual to gain 20 sorcerous motes after Slang struck her and immediately cast Mists of Eventide with 7 of them (leaving 13). On her own turn, the Heron made a Shape Sorcery action to cast Death of Obsidian Butterflies. The 5 successes she got gave her more than enough sorcerous motes to cast the Butterflies (leaving 3 from her ritual available for future casting), so she attacked with them.

Meanwhile, Kelam successfully resisted the poison of the Mists of Eventide and decided to make a Decisive attack against the Heron, using Void-Slicing Wind to cover the distance between them. This Clashed the Butterflies, but the Heron got *one* more success on her attack. This means that the Heron won the Clash, injuring Kelam (who activated a Resistance Charm to shift the four health levels of damage into newly-created -0 levels) and that the Butterflies will also affect Slang and Wic. They can't be Dodged, only Parried, and their Decisive damage (if any) will be dependent on how many threshold successes are scored, so Slang and Wic need to declare (and stunt, if desired) their defenses now.

A couple of War Ghosts act before Wic, but I'd like to fully resolve the Butterflies before that.

No need to roll against the Mists yet, you'll do that on your turns.

Malozing

2020-01-11, 03:40 PM

For a brief moment, Slang sees Kelam rushing Heron only to be sliced by the summoned obsidian knives. "Kelam!"

As the darkness returns, Slang hears a knife fly past their ears, and they shift into a low swaying defensive stance. A snake doesn’t need its sight to fight back, after all. As Serpent-Sting flies forward, the fang-like end caps knock a couple of the obsidian blades from the air, seeking Heron.

Spending 2m and 1wp to activate Snake Strikes the Heel. Slang is using the withering version. Also, spending 3m to cancel out the penalty.
Attack:
Martial Arts 5 + Dexterity 4 + Serpent-Sting 3 + Stunt 2 - Penalty 3 + Excellencies 3 = 14 dice
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

Damage: [roll3]
[roll4]
[roll5]

Inspector Valin

2020-01-14, 06:03 PM

Terrible Bloody Rose does not answer her opponent's mad proclamations for the moment. As proud as the queen of Dari might be, she can feel the all too drained essence of Wirric Stanton. The boy had put far too much of himself into that one shot - idiot. It'll take her time to rally, regain the essence this child wasted on one flashy play.

She twirls the unfamiliar weapon through the air, batting down butterflies with the ease born of practice and an indifference born of overfamiliarity. This borders on sport to Rose. Even without giving it her all, the ancient Solar was a practiced combatant, a duelist even more used to terrifying opponents than Wirric Stanton. Batting her way through a flight of obsidian butterflies had been a matter of recreation for Rose, once. The borrowed form reflects the smile on the imperious visage looming above. This battle is turning, one way or another.

Stunting Defense up to 7. No motes.

Ascension

2020-01-17, 12:12 AM

Dari:

Serpent-Sting sweeps through the hail of knives, clearing a zone of safety for Slang. The Heron's uncanny silk-and-soulsteel armor absorbs the worst of the Tya's counterattack, but the blow still catches the Deathlord off-guard, driving her onto her back foot.

Unfortunately, Terrible Bloody Rose learns that confidence and ancient skill alone are not, by themselves, enough to offset the drawbacks of depleted essence, an unfamiliar body, an unfamiliar weapon... the Heron's conjured knives bite through Wic's heavy coat and the vulnerable flesh beneath. The ghosts surrounding the Exalts catch the delectable scent of living blood, and the empty suits of armor they occupy shudder in sympathy with their envious thirst.

OOC:
Okay, Slang's Clash succeeds, but Wic is hit for four levels of Lethal damage. Ouch! And unfortunately, unlike poison penalties, wound penalties explicitly do apply to Defense. (You could mitigate the amount of damage taken by accepting a Crippling injury, but of course that would bring its own set of problems.)
One of the ghosts is unable to resist the lure of Wic's vulnerability, and its short sword lashes out, hoping to draw more of the Twilight's sweet blood.

The other two ghosts involved in the central melee with Wic, Slang, and the Heron focus on the Tya captain instead, whether from lingering fear of Terrible Bloody Rose, pragmatic focus on their only uninjured foe, or protective desire to avenge their mistress.

War Ghost #4 makes a Withering attack against Wic.
Attack: [roll0]
Damage (base 12, minimum 2): [roll1]
War Ghost #5 makes a Withering attack against Slang.
Attack: [roll2]
Damage (base 12, minimum 2): [roll3]
War Ghost #1 makes a Withering attack against Slang.
Attack: [roll4]
Damage (base 12, minimum 2): [roll5]

Unless War Ghost #4 drops Wic below -2 Initiative, he/Rose will be up next. At the start of his/her turn, Valin, you should roll Stamina + Resistance against the Mists of Eventide (and yes, the wound penalty will apply to that roll, too, sorry).

Inspector Valin

2020-01-17, 07:35 PM

Rose gasps, breathing heavily, trying to recapture momentum. The Solar grimaces at the ghost, bringing her borrowed impliment back once, twice, thrice - striking at his blade as he brought it down, as though this were some dramatic stage fight. Blood doesn't matter. Pain doesn't matter.

All that ever mattered to Rose is the end result.

-2 from Injury, -2 from Onslaught brings me to 3. Stunt to 4.

Malozing

2020-01-18, 02:18 PM

Slang ducks low and rolls pass Heron to avoid the wide-sweeping strikes of the animated armors' swords. The Tya recovers in a low crouch slightly behind the Deathlord with Serpent-sting posed and ready to take the brunt of any stray attack.

Evasion stunted to 5. Also going to use my safety net of Serpentine Evasion, if I need that extra point of Evasion, I will spend the 2m.

Inspector Valin

2020-01-20, 10:39 AM

So. -2 injury. -3 from the poison. And -3 blindness. Any roll is at a staggering -8.

Even for a Solar, that's insane. High power resistance charms might help Wic... but he doesn't have them. And I'm willing to bet Heron knows it. Rose knows it.

The ghost's blade falls back for a second, allowing Rose to catch her breath. Her former confidence is starting to fade. The butterflies had taken more of the child's blood than at first she'd realized, and she can feel the creeping effects of the mists starting to numb her senses. The idea that it is possible to recover in this fight is starting to look less likely to the ancient queen, and that has left her weighing her options.

The optimal path is to submit. Accept the Heron's offer, and plan to reassert control later. Ensures survival of self, while still leaving the possibility of allies surviving, assuming they...

"No!"

The voice rings out from some dark recess of the mind. It took all its strength to speak, and in an instant it has begun to fade. But still, feverishly, it tries to make itself heard. "We need to fight. Can't... help her. Hurts Creation."

"Broken, half formed, incomplete Creation?" Rose laughs inwardly. Oh, the naivety of youth. She focuses on the voice, indulging it as a mother might. "It might be a kindness to let it die. It's fallen so far from anything it was meant to be. An ending has a certain dignity to it, don't you think?"

The faint voice grows desperate - it lacks the strength or coherence to truly argue with Rose. Instead, it changes tac. "The people! Kelam. Drogath. Slang. Not their time. Save them..."

Rose can't help but chuckle at these faint, half formed words. "Foolish boy. What a pigheaded heir I ended up with."

"Heron!"

Rose can no longer meet her adversary's gaze, but her voice carries across the darkened battlefield. The Twilight limps forward, bringing up the firecane with a hand that she's having difficulty raising. None the less, she starts to bring Lusus slowly through the air, tracing sorcerous runes that faintly glow with spilt firedust in its wake. "You... can throw whatever you want at me. All the sorcery of this world, or any other. Cast every one of Setesh's broken stars against my heart, it wouldn't matter!"

Five. Six. Seven. Rose's pace is slow, but unceasing as she completes the ring of invocations. With a flick of her hand, the nine cobalt circles of the Azure Abacus flicker to life before the fading Twilight. She chuckles, coughing blood as she starts to draw the final pieces of essence together. "I'm... I'm not done yet."

And with those words, Rose begins to sing (https://youtu.be/dWE0nlhpdq8). She sings a name of power, beauty and grandeur that none of those present could articulate again, let alone transcribe. She repeats those few syllables, again and again, as she once did when forging the wonders that had formed the heart of her beloved city.

And in that song, Rose's strength returns to her. It's the strength of the chorus. To be part of something greater than yourself. To have your glory, your majesty, enriched by its touch.

The nine glowing rings of Wirric's Azure Abacus morph into nine multifaceted azure spheres, each containing a bright ember of flame. Rose doesn't stop her song, but the Heron can see a smile growing past the blood on her borrowed face. Each of the spheres takes up Rose's impossible chant, repeating it in hushed shipers as they circle through the air before her. As the invocation grows louder, the chant starts to resonate beyond them somehow. As though it were part of something greater, something unending, a great choir hanging above the scene, one that rang out across time and space, whose song can only grow. The halls of the Palace of Dari echo with its sound, every brick placed to resonate with this ancient music.

The blond haired northern boy does not stop his part of the song, repeating that strange cadence over and over again. But above him, the form of Terrible Bloody Rose reaches out her arm. A half mask forms upon the right half of her face - that of a golden devil with a fearsome grin and flaming hair. When the apparition cries out, it does so with two voices, two hearts which in this moment beat as one.

"Pyrean Cataclysm!"

All nine crystal spheres light up at that cry, the flames within intensifying to a blinding light. The blue tint of the abacus is gone now, replaced by a blinding perfect white that meets in the central point of the orrery. That light rises into a glowing orb of silver, before a beam of crackling power emerges from its heart. The light of the Pyrean spheres cuts through the unnatural darkness that has enveloped the throne room, making for the venomous blackened soul that lies at its heart. A creature warped in every way, anathemic to the principles of Creation's natural order and the making of a soul.

The Black Heron.

Secondary song choice (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qFsPile8XXY)

Belated, using my top of the round auto aim with CoED for a reload. Targeting Mags, natch. Now, actual turn!

Firstly, damage from the Mists. WicRose is at 1i, so this may crash her. This doesn't change my action, but it's worth noting. If it does, that's 5i to Mags... and a Shift if WicRose crashes her

[roll0]

Now, withering attack on the Black Heron. Activating Kiss of the Sun Concentration, Phoenix Flies on Golden Wings, Azure Abacus Meditation, 10m Excellency, 1WP autosux.

[roll1] Attack +1 autosuccess
[roll2] Damage, 5 Overwhelming, +6 automatic levels on a hit via charms. All soak from armor and stamina nullified via Azure Abacus.

If this works, fluff wise Rose isn't gonna drop it until her next attack. It's more beam than shot, and that way I can have it actually do some decisive damage next round. ;)

Ascension

2020-01-22, 01:28 AM

Slang:
The first of the two attacks requires the Serpentine Evasion safety net, so that's 2m. Slang dodges the second without difficulty.

Wic Rose:

The Princess Magnificent with Lips of Coral and Robes of Black Feathers laughs contemptuously as Terrible Bloody Rose urges Wirric's broken body on toward a final act of defiance.

"Oh, you are quite done."

She turns to address Slang, arrogantly ignoring Rose's rising song. What could such an opponent, weary, bloodied, and poisoned, conjure up that could threaten a Deathlord?

"You can't see it, pirate, but your companions aren't looking so well. Their blood paints the floor... and the poor fool you came to rescue still lingers on the threshold of death. How many lives are you ready to pay to defy me? Without the Black Exaltation, they... they..."

The Black Heron trails off as the incomprehensible chorus rises to a volume louder than she can ignore, reverberating from the walls of the palace.

"What's this parlor trick?" she spits, turning her attention back to Wic, but looking down at him with undiminished disdain. "I told you, you're throu-

"Pyrian Cataclysm!"

The Black Heron realizes the danger too late. The concentrated flame of Lusus Naturae, rendered into a shaft of pure silver light by the admixture of ancient diabolism and modern alchemy, cuts cleanly through her conjured darkness, sundering it, banishing it, driving even natural shadow back into the furthest corners of the pearlescent palace. In the last moment before the light washes over her, the Heron crosses her arms before her, attempting to block or brunt the force of the blast, but the beam pierces her vambraces as if master-crafted soulsteel were no more protection than a thin veil of smoke.

The overconfident Deathlord is transfixed by the ray of judgment.

The Heron spends 4m to negate the Defense penalty from losing a Clash, but that was a three-point stunt (don't forget, that comes with +2 wp), and the defense boost does not help.

By my calculations, with Soak eliminated from the equation by the Abacus, Wic should actually have dealt twenty dice and seven automatic successes (three from Kiss, four from Phoenix) worth of Withering damage to the Heron, entitling you to roll another six dice. Despite an abysmal damage roll, the automatic successes guarantee that the Heron is crashed and carry Wic up to a minimum of 15 Initiative (plus whatever he can roll on those last six dice).

Since the Heron is crashed, the supernatural darkness goes away, and Wic and Slang don't have to contend with any blindness penalty anymore.

Inspector Valin

2020-01-22, 07:16 PM

The beam does fade. It might seem to the Heron as though it lasts a small eternity, but it slowly begins to recede, the name-song fading into distant murmurs. Princess Magnificent blinks, clearing her eyes of the awful silver glare.

Only to see a scraggly haired, bloodstained body charging straight at her, eyes wide and wrathful.

The golden haired sorcerer lurches forward, the nine conjured spheres circling the head of the cane like some supernal flail. Above, the Rose-image continues the chant, now that the body is focused purely on the battle. Lusus' golden head clangs down upon the Heron's raised forearm, but the first of the spheres sails past, impacting the Deathlord again and again. Grinning, the lunatic warrior leans forward, tightening their grip upon the firewand. The next sphere to hit the Princess breaks outright, dousing her with shards of solidified essence and burning silver fire. The Deathlord lunges for her attacker, but Rose-in-Wic ducks, rolling across the floor like a spinning top before pulling her body upright, roughly even with Slang.

"I've got eight more left, Heron." The strange Wic glances to the companion at her side, gesturing to the Deathlord with a grin. "As one?"

After a second to meet Slang's gaze, the sorcerer charges forward, the anima image of Rose once more singing the name of the Perfected Hierachy as her servant sets to work. Rose's motions are growing more measured, her control of this worn out body honing to a science. Wic lunges as the Princess makes for Slang, before dancing back as the good Tya springs forward. A few steps away, the sorcerer twirls the flamecane, sending two more silver spheres towards Magnificent. In their wake, Rose pushes forward, letting fly with a third sphere that seems to go wide, but is perfectly placed for Slang to redirect back at the unfortunate deathlord. Blow after blow rain down, precise and exact, a growing symphony until only one sphere remains.

And Rose grins. She had always appreciated symmetry. Wic's lungs take one last breath of mist tainted air before the sorcerer starts the final run forward, speaking two words that the ancient queen had once shared with these same Dragon Blooded usurpers so long ago.

"Dari. Endures."

And with that, she lunges forward, and brings the final sphere of Pyrean flame down upon the Princess' head, with all the force and fury one Chosen of the Sun can muster.

Okay! Turn refresh. Five motes leaves 17. Activating Blossom of Inevitable Demise, Phoenix Flies, and Kiss of the Sun. That gives me 7 additional levels of damage, along with the 3 I got from those extra dice. Total of 25, with 10s doubled

Now I just have to hit. 8m Excellency, 1wp for an autosuccess. Melee attack so don't need to reload via CoED - if I'm wrong there, I'll sacrifice two Excellency dice for it, and rework this stunt into more of a blast.

[roll0] 5+5+1+2+3+8-2-3. +1 autosux
[roll1] Damage, 10s doubled

Malozing

2020-01-27, 04:33 PM

Though they are unsure of the entity possessing Wic, Slang nods as they ready Serpent-sting. As soon as Wic-Rose charges at Heron again, the Tya moves to flank the Deathlord, restricting her movements. The staff coils and uncoils around Slang’s arms as its sections prod and shove Heron, testing for a weak point while the enemy’s focus on the Twilight’s attacks.

From the corner of their eye, Slang spots the deliberately wide-flung orb. With a flick of their wrist, their black jade weapon curls around the slivery ball, reminiscent of a python coiling protectively around its eggs. Slang pulls the orb close, and with a twirl, Serpent-sting releases the sphere into Heron’s ribs and coils across her torso and down a leg to sink a heated fang into the back of her knee.

As that leg collapses under their enemy, Slang whispers to the Deathlord, “Yet here we are. We’re still standing.” Slang steps back as the final orb smashes into Heron’s head.

Decisive attack with Striking Cobra Technique (3m), since Heron is crashed that bonus raw decisive damage becomes 1 automatic success. Using 4m for excellencies

Attack: 9(Martial Arts + Dexterity) + 2 (Stunt) + 4 (Excellencies) = 15 dice
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

Damage: [roll3]
[roll4]
[roll5]
[roll6]
+1

Ascension

2020-01-27, 11:12 PM

The stalwart soulsteel of the Black Heron's panoply is no defense against the concentrated silver flame of Rose and Slang's onslaught. The quintessential Pyrian flame finds every fault in the Deathlord's imperfect armor and blazes through. Fire pours out from the eye sockets of the Heron's mask as Slang forces her to her knees, and her body convulses. She screams, an awful howl which trails off into cackling laughter.

The Deathlord's feathered headdress is ablaze, and the delicate white porcelain of the lower half of her mask is swiftly blackening, but she turns to face the Solars who have defeated her with uncanny poise.

"I have transcended death!" she laughs from behind her ruined mask, her voice giddy to the point of delirium. "All you have managed to do is to remind me of pain! I look forward... to sharing this sensation... with you..."

With that final threat delivered, the Princess Magnificent with Lips of Coral and Robes of Black Feathers collapses like a marionette. Her mask jars loose in the fall. There is nothing behind it, no thrice-slain corpse face, no blackened bone, no smear of ash. The Black Heron's armor is just as empty as that of her servants.

With their mistress banished, the war ghosts quickly flee, their own armor clattering to the ground, discarded. Slang, Kelam, Rose, and Drogath are left alone in the mist-fogged palace of Dari's necropolis.

Kelam strides purposefully over to where the Heron's Umbrella of Discord fell, heedless of the blood which spatters the floor with her every step. Her sword screams free from its sheath and, in a flash, she strikes the umbrella as hard as she can. Marble dust explodes into the air as the floor of the hall proves no match for the Mourning Blade, but as the cloud dissipates into the general haze it becomes clear that the hateful umbrella endures, imperishable. Kelam mutters a curse in Seatongue.

Faint sounds of shuffling and sniffling remind the room of Drogath's presence. The stricken Dynast crawls pitifully backwards toward the wall nearest him. He stares at his saviors with wide, fearful eyes, nearly as scared of the anima-wreathed Anathema as he was of his tormentors.

Malozing

2020-01-28, 02:53 PM

Slang studies Wic-Rose for several moments, unsure of how to approach her. Before they can awkwardly break the ice, Mourning Blade’s screams draw the Tya’s attention to Kelam and the parasol. The blood flowing from the swordwoman’s wound has Slang’s hand reaching for their first aid supplies.

“Kelam, don’t worry about it. We’ll take it with us. If Wic and Leaf can’t destroy it, maybe it can be an offering to Gythuum. For now, come over here and let me tend to everyone’s wounds.”

Drogath dragging himself farther away from the small group of Anathema has Slang shaking their head as moved closer to Wic-Rose.

“Do you mind if I look at your injuries, Wic? You seem like you’re about to fall over. Drogath might need a moment to realize we’re not going to hurt him before I can treat him.”

Ascension

2020-02-22, 01:29 PM

OOC / Explanation:
Due to the forum... hiccup... this game continued offsite on Discord for a little while. This post compiles our offsite RP. There's a little redundancy, due to Malozing's last post before the forums went down not being seen by everyone (including me), and, of course, we were unable to refer back to what had been posted here, but please bear with us. We did the best we could.

Rose just stands there for a while. The weight on her shoulders is both physical and spiritual. With no more fight to be had, the ancient Solar finally has time to process what has befallen her, this city and the world. There is a lot to absorb, even for the fast thinking Solar.

But she does rally. And she turns to Drogath.

"You. Dragon"

The spectral image of the ancient Solar flares above Wic's body once again. Rose glances down at her borrowed form, before turning her imperious gaze to Drogath. "This boy didn't have to save you. He's not got any kind of plan in mind. You're almost useless to him. He's just an idiot who considered you a friend. Someone worth risking his life over."

Lusus Nature flares, as an errant mote of essence flits through the firecane's head. Rose's glare doesn't leave the Terrestrial. "Respect that. Whatever your faith tells you, he was willing to bleed in your name. If the Tya had not begun the fight, he would have accepted the Heron's offer himself. An 'Anathema', who would give their life and soul to save one of their hunters."

Wic waves to Kelam and Slang. Rose raises a hand to her face as she chuckles. "Just like these two. You have the luck of the Ebon Dragon, Cathak Drogath. I doubt you would have done the same, were the positions reversed. Truly, there is no justice in this world."

Her pronouncements given, the sorcerer turns and starts to walk past the shattered monstrance towards the interior of the Palace of Dari. This body is battered and bloodied, but Rose is unsure how long her time here will persist. She has work to do.

Slang reaches out to steady Kelam after she struck the Black Heron's parasol. "We'll bring it with us. If Wic and Leaf can't figure out how to break it, we can offer it to Gythuum. It'll at least keep it out of her hands."

The Tya's hands pressed against the swordwoman's wounds and pulls out a few bandages. Slang listens to what Rose says to Drograth as they wrap up Kelam. When Rose starts to wander off, Slang calls out to her. "Wic? Let me tend to your wounds before you go wandering off!"

Slang finishes knotting the last wrap on Kelam before dashing after the Twilight.

'Wic' doesn't respond, instead simply quickening his pace. Lusus Naturae clacks against the ground - the Twilight resting weight on it as he continues onward.

Slang growls as they sprinted forward. "I don't know what's going on in that head of yours, but you don't have to run from us."

They grab 'Wic's' shoulder and turns her to face the Tya. "What is so important that you have to run off when you can barely stand?"

"My city!" The sorcerer jerks away from Slang's grip, almost stumbling backwards but regaining his footing thanks to Lusus. The presence behind Wic's eyes glares at the Tya, trying to evaluate them. She doesn't have time, how to make them understand...?

"'Your' city?" Kelam presses. With the adrenaline of battle fading, she now feels the pain of her wounds, but she's still in better shape than Wic. She circles around to the sorcerer's other side, standing between him and the heart of the palace. She isn't entirely certain what's going on, but she could see through the darkness during the fight with the Heron, and she is more used to listening past the shriek of her sword than most. She saw Wic's unusual anima display, heard his ravings.

"This city is long dead... As is its queen. What's going on, Wic?"

”The city can wait, Wic. We can come back here later.” Slang speaks softly, treating the Twilight like a cornered wounded animal.

”Don’t forget we have friends waiting for us to back them up. You know, against the Hortatum?”

"The petty wars of traitors in a fallen age? The mewling of Heaven's lapdogs as they squabble for power? My city..."

The sorcerer trails off, coughing, breathing ragged. She's not getting by Kelam like this, not with her essence largely spent.

"You children. You and your fire and pride." Rose chuckles. She draws herself up in her borrowed body, doing a passible job of imperial grace before bowing low to Kelam and Slang. "I am Terrible Bloody Rose. Queen of Dari. I know not how long I will persist in this borrowed form. I ask that you grant me long enough to see the city I built put to rest, or at least provide me a final moment atop its spires, to appreciate the beauty of what was lost to Creation at the hands of the Dragon Blooded."

Kelam's brow furrows. What is this, some form of possession? Has Terrible Bloody Rose's ghost persisted throughout the centuries, the millennia, since Dari's fall?

"If that... will give you the peace to pass on..." she mumbles.

"Child. I passed millennia ago. And there was no peace in those final moments."

Rose smiles, stepping past Kelam and slowly walking onward into Dari's familiar halls. The light of her anima will hopefully guide the others, but she scarcely needs it - these ancient stones are familiar to her. As she goes onward, she begins to explain.

"The Exaltations the two of you and this boy bear are a legacy, passed down from us to you. You are all our heirs. Yet in the twilight of my age, I imagine things were not handled properly. No more Banquets of All Peers, no more parades through the streets of Meru..."

The ancient Solar sighs at the indignity of it all, turning a familiar corner. "My memories... my essence lingers within the Exaltation, even after my death. The boy felt it. Drew on it. And in doing so, blurred the line between him and I."

Quietly, the Tya listens and processes what Terrible Bloody Rose. Slang sighs after a moment. "That sounds like something he would do."

Wic, if given the chance would want to walk through Whitewall again, and he didn't build the city. Slang pauses at the corner and glance over their shoulder at Drogath. "If you want one last look at your city, I will not stop you. Just don't push his body too hard. I have yet to bandage any of those wounds, but I won't eat up any more of your time."

Slang turns to Kelam. "Stay with her. Just to help her or Wic back down here when she's done or if the wounds get any worse." They turn to walk back to the Dragon-blooded. "I'll see what I can do for Drogath."

Kelam frowns at Wic, or Rose, and at Slang's suggestion, but she awkwardly offers her arm to the wounded Twilight regardless, in case they need support.

"Let's... get going, then."

Rose and Kelam:

The golden haired sorcerer - sorcerers? - do not need to be told twice - venturing swiftly into the passages that lie beyond the entrance hall. In truth it's no great feat to Rose - the palace had been designed to be easy to navigate. It will not take them long to reach the throne room. And if her goal is not there... then the spires will not be far.

That said physicality may be her remaining barrier. She looks to the figure at her side, with a curious eye. "Kelam, wasn't it?" The sorceress keeps trying to push forward, but now this is on her mind. She takes a few steps along the corridor, but keeps the conversation going. "You're... like the Heron. But bear an Exaltation. Why do you fight with us?"

As the two Exalts draw nearer to the throne room, the epicenter of ancient Dari's destruction, reminders of the city's fall intrude on the memory of its one-time perfection. Cracks can be seen in the walls, subtle at first, but growing wider and more plainly visible the closer they come to the site of Rose's last stand. Streaks of soot and unnatural verdigris spread from the cracks, ruining the delicate opalescence of the palace walls. How badly might the throne room itself be damaged? Rose's curiosity about Kelam draws her up short before she finds out.

"'Like the Heron' is an oversimplification," Kelam says, her expression curdling in distaste. "I was... deluded into the service of one of her peers. But I fought to gain my freedom. Every single day I fight against... being like her."

"Hah! Splendid!"

Rose seems overjoyed at Kalem's words, giving her a surprisingly hearty pat on the back. The Abyssal has likely never seen Wic's body grin quite like this before, even as the sorcerer starts to proceed further into the blast radius. "A false pattern gives before a true one. Misaligned chaos gives way to the proper way of things. At your heart, beneath the theatrics and panoply of death they've forced upon you, you're just as much a Solar as any of these others! As any from my time even!"

The cane taps against the blasted ground, fragments giving way before it. Rose doesn't notice - lost in the moment of reflection. "What I'd give for my old laboratory. Permanence. Time. I could try and research that monstrous contraption of the Heron's, deduce just how the abyssal transformation works. Perhaps even reverse it."

The thought is enough to draw the sorceress to a brief pause, enraptured by the sheer power of such a moment, before sighing and shaking her head. "Ah well. So many broken things, so many problems. There would never be enough time to fix them all." She beckons across the blasted debris to illustrate her point, before continuing onward.

"...you think you could accomplish that?" Kelam ventures, an uncharacteristic note of hope stealing into her voice. "Could Wirric?"
Her eyes are vulnerable, pleading.

"With no resources, no infrastructure, no reference texts..." Rose rattles off the issues, before waving them away with a snort "Of course! At least, of course I could. Unlike the boy, I was educated in an age of wonders! I wrought dreams and miracles in this palace, child, far greater than that monstrosity the Heron was so proud of." She sniffs contemptuously, tapping her borrowed forehead where the caste mark gleams. "As far as I can tell, all the boy has ever wrought is trouble for those around him. If any of your party was unworthy of the title Solar..."

Kelam frowns at Rose's denigration of Wic, her budding sense of hero-worship wavering. This 'Rose' was a Solar of the First Age... and so were the Deathlords, once.

"He's trying to be a better person. He may not always succeed, but he always tries. You must give him credit for that."

"Credit. Well wishes." Rose has to stop for a minute at that, she laughs so hard. "You are Exalted. Your actions set the Loom of Fate to spin... and you're offended that I, a spectre of the past, find my successor wanting? Sun's grace, you would not survive long in my court with such sensitivity, child."

There's no malice to the words. The Deathknight arguing in defence of her friend is truly humorous to Rose, and somewhat endearing. Still, after she regains some composure she does offer something more of an explanation for her stance. "He's not awful. But he's my heir, and there's so much he doesn't know. It's like asking an artisan who spent their whole life perfecting their calligraphy their opinion of the schoolboy who is set to take their position."

The ancient Solar sighs, tracing a glyph through the air briefly. "His magic can barely surpass that of the Dragon Blooded. I once could bind the highest souls of the Yozi, should it please me. To say he is my lesser is no insult - it's simply fact. I'd imagine there are few souls left in this age who could equal me at my height."

Kelam, cowed, doesn't speak against that assessment, but the palace provides a rebuttal for her. Rose and Kelam have reached the throne room, where the memory of Dari's fall is felt most strongly. Rose and Ocelot's thrones lie in shattered fragments, and the cracks radiating out from that epicenter mar every once-graceful surface of the ruling couple's sanctum.

All of the prowess and prestige Rose boasts of led to... this. The very Dragon-Blooded whose magic she disparages left her with no avenue toward victory short of self destruction. What could she now hope to salvage from the ruins of her glory?

Rose takes a second, to appreciate the sight. She doesn't think of the contradiction between this vista and her perfect court. All she can think of is a pack of worthless traitors, who sought to strike her down and got exactly what they deserved. Better to deny peace and harmony to your enemies than let them be twisted to the service of the undeserving.

She starts to walk forward slowly, taking one step at a time towards the epicentre of the blast. But before reaching that centre, she stops and turns to Kelam with a smile. "This? This is a worthy lesson to you."

The ancient queen closes her eyes briefly, as she starts to synopsise the situation. "I can not pretend to truly understand what has been done to your Exaltation, but I can tell it troubles you and divine something of the intent. The idea of a destructive Exaltation, a Deathknight in service to the void, whose every action brings an end of things."

Opening her eyes again, Rose gestures across the devastated throne room with a proud smile. "Look at this! The strength of my magic! The power I held, that you hold now. That energy, that potential lay within your Exaltation long before it was taken by the Underworld. The void taint whispers, colours the essence you draw upon, but it does not make you a weapon, any more than my Exaltation made me one."

Rose taps briefly at the shattered rock with Lusus Naturae before turning around once again. "A Solar bears just as much potential for destruction as you. And you in turn bear as much potential for creation. Who knows? Mayhaps one day, you'll build your own fine city, just as I did."

She chuckles. A new city in this fallen age. That would be interesting indeed.

Far off, her shadow dancing behind her, Leaf watches the flames die down. She feels a chill run down her spine with no apparent cause, especially on this warm, smoke-filled night.

"Yeesh, think a goose walked o'er mah grave there."

Slang and Drogath:

Slang slows their pace as they get within a few feet of Drogath. "I know you have your doubts about us, but we really did just come here to get you out of trouble." The Tya squats to look the Dragon-blooded in the eyes. "Wic, Forvious, paled when he got your message and nearly dropped us out of the air at the time.”

They hold up a few first aid supplies, rolls of cloth and a jar of an ointment. With a soft, reassuring tone, Slang asks, “Are you willing to let me tend to your wounds, Drogath?”

Drogath is filthy, and he still bleeds from more than a dozen poorly-scabbed wounds, but his Exalted resilience, and his tormentors' horrid skill, has protected him from the worst possible consequences. Hesiesh's purifying flame keeps him safe from infection, and the wounds themselves are too shallow, and too carefully placed, to be fatal.

Slang even sees signs of previous medical treatment, measures taken to ensure that he would be fit for whatever next round of tortures the Heron had in mind.

In wounding his psyche, however, the Deathlord showed no restraint. He cringes from Slang at their approach, entirely devoid of his typical self-important bravado.

"J-just end it," he manages to say, his voice small and shaky. "No more."

Slang studies the cowed Dragon. They do not like what they see: a spirited man, broken. Seeing his wounds mostly on the mend, the Tya slowly stashes their supplies away and shifted to sit next to Drogath. They carefully made sure not to touch him.

“Drogath, I’m here to help you; not to finish you off despite what you think of me.” Slang sighs. “I can’t imagine what tortures you’ve been through, but from what I can see, you are strong. Stronger than that cursed woman ever gave you credit for.”

Though they think they might be moving to quickly, Slang takes a gamble and offers their hand to Drogath, palm up and empty. “As long as you don’t harm me or any of my friends, I can provide you a safe place to recover.”

"T-then what?" Drogath manages. There is suspicion in his eyes, and just a hint of his former strength. "...y'can't send me... home. Can't trust me with th' knowledge of... your nature."

His head and shoulders slump.

"W-what do you want? A p-pet?"

With a single shoulder shrug, Slang answers honestly. "I don't know. You're right. We can't send you home..." They wince when Drograth slumps and asks if they wanted a 'pet.'

"Eh, I've always wanted a pet as a kid, but I was thinking more along the lines of a ship's cat, not a person.

”I don't really have a good reason for why I am offering you a safe haven besides Wic saw something in you that compelled him to tell you some details of our mission.”

Ascension

2020-02-22, 03:12 PM

Rose and Kelam:

Kelam shivers. Though Rose means it as reassurance, the reminder that deathknights, Solars, and even the Deathlords themselves are part of the same continuum, the same class of being, chills her. If for every hero like Brown Leaf under his aegis, the Unconquered Sun might choose a Heron, or a Harnapuul, or a woman worthy of the title "Terrible Bloody Rose," then what hope can the Solar Exalted offer Creation?

She thinks, too, of the Skullstone Archipelago... of Onyx, the dark jewel in the Silver Prince's crown. A city ruled from the grave, a city polluted with the touch of death. Would any city raised by her hand be stained so?

"Maybe we do all have the same potential," she says at last, "but, with all due respect, this? All of this around us? Your works are not where I would look for inspiration. Do you remember Brown Leaf? I know you've met Slang. They're both... such good people. Better than me, better than Wic... better than you. They might never put up a twenty-foot statue of themselves, or raise a mighty palace, but... I trust that they'll leave the world a better place than they found it."

Kelam bows her head, clenches her fists.

"If, at the end of my life, I can say that myself... then I can call my life a success."

Slang and Drogath:

"...mission. Yes... That... wasn't lies? The Realm..."

Drogath's brow furrows, and his eyes drift over to the loathsome Monstrance in which he was so recently imprisoned. He shudders at the sight of it, but he doesn't look away.

"That... thing. It offers... power. P-power like your girl with the sword has. If I take it... b-become Anathema... C-could I make a difference?"

Malozing

2020-02-22, 05:12 PM

Slang's eyes follow Drogath's gaze. The Monstrance's form sets Slang's skin crawling, and Kelam's pain after the fight with the Brides and the monks comes to the forefront of the Tya's mind.

"She would caution you about the power it offers. It troubles her enough that she warns us to not take it. From my understanding, the price is quite high."

Slang stands and blocks the disturbing construction from the Dragon's view. Extending an open hand to the Dynast, they offer a small smile. "Besides, the fact that you still want to help makes me think you can make a difference as who you are. Let's go check on Kelam and Wic, hm?"

Ascension

2020-02-22, 11:23 PM

Drogath scrutinizes Slang's hand, unknowable wheels turning in his head, but at length he takes it and allows himself to be helped to his feet. He's shaky, his legs weak from blood loss and under-use, but he can walk with Slang's support.

"'m damned either way, with f-friends like you," he mutters.

Inspector Valin

2020-02-25, 07:22 PM

"Humble to a fault."

Rose is very silent at that. It's hard to tell, but it feels like Kelam's words cut her deeply. The two just stand in the throne room silently, before the old sorceress tuts, waving her hand."Bah. Forget what I said before. You're a lousy chosen, Kelam! Though that's... probably not your fault. Understandable with what you've faced that you'd lack some degree of confidence..."

She trials off, looking around her. Something about Rose has deflated. She takes a few more steps, looking over her shattered throne. The old Solar bows her head in contemplation of what was lost, and what this age will never know. She whispers, with a thin smile. "Thank you. This is goodbye." With a sigh, Rose opens her eyes. Kelam can see desperation in Rose's gaze as she tries to maintain her coherence a few seconds longer, to finish expressing her thought. "Please. Remember this place, my city. The time you call the First Age was more than just the Deathlords. Even in the wreckage of the Time Before, the Chosen built so many beautiful things, strove to make the world a better place. Don't let us be forgotten."

Hope this works as Rose's exit for the moment

Ascension

2020-02-29, 12:03 AM

Our initial discussion of rules for how Past Lives would work would leave Rose in control a while longer, but 1.) Ex3 usually prefers narrative lengths of time over hours, and 2.) I don't mind fudging things anyway, and 3.) this is a good exit, so sure, let's send her off.
"We won't," Kelam assures Rose.

She pauses a long moment, perhaps long enough for Rose's phantom consciousness to recede back into the depths of Wic's memory, and then she mumbles, "We can't."

She lets another minute pass and then, gently, she asks, "Wirric? Wic? Are you with us again? You're hurt, but we... we won. Drogath is safe, and the Heron is... gone. If you'll let Slang bandage your wounds, we can get out of the Underworld and reconnect with our friends."

Malozing

2020-03-01, 08:36 PM

"Maybe to other Dynasts, but I'd disagree." Slang slings one of Drogath's arms over their shoulders and wraps an arm around the man's waist. As the pair heads in the direction that Rose and Kelam went, Slang falls silent, eyeing the once-great architecture along the hall. When their path leads them to an open room, the familiar voice speaks.

"Wirric? Wic? Are you with us again? You're hurt, but we... we won. Drogath is safe, and the Heron is... gone. If you'll let Slang bandage your wounds, we can get out of the Underworld and reconnect with our friends."

Slang, with Drogath, moves toward the swordwoman's voice. "There isn't an if. I am going to tend to his wounds whether he likes it or not. I take it she's gone now?"

Inspector Valin

2020-03-02, 05:29 PM

"Wait... wait until we're back with the others, please. We should... reunify. This has already cost us time."

Wic's voice is weak as he finally returns to consciousness. The sorcerer struggles back to his feet, "I'm sorry. To all three of you. Drogath. Slang. Kelam. But thank you. I don't... deserve..." He trails off, still struggling for breath. Sun damn it, how much blood did he lose back there?

Ascension

2020-03-03, 12:39 AM

Later, between Chalan and the Lap, two unusual flying forces meet in the air.

One group soars high in the sky, massive wingbeats propelling them confidently through unusually fitful winds. There, a Harborheadite monk and a masked Linowan shaman cling to the back of an enormous Sky Titan, the magnificent beast itself another human ally in transfigured shape.

Far below, a self-contained storm scuds along, its altitude limited but its speed surpassing that of any winged beast, even one as grand as a Sky Titan. Within the whirlwind stand a Northern sorcerer (wearing a fresh set of bandages, to his apparent chagrin), a Tya captain, a grim swordswoman, and an armored Dynast. Something else is present, too, in the stormwind; the sinister panoply of a Deathlord, sans its occupant.

The colossal Penitent looms head and shoulders above the Southern horizon, and the outermost band of the farmland which earns the Lap its wealth spreads below the airborne Exalts. The race to put a stop to the Hortatum's machinations enters its final phase.

Sticks

2020-03-03, 03:55 PM

Once the two groups have converged, Brown Leaf jumps down and runs to meet the battered assembly of Exalts.

"Jarabi! Are you okay!? Wha...who?" She takes in the sight of the obvious Dragonblood, his muscular figure and arrogant, if deflated, demeanor, and does some quick mental calculations. "Oh, uh, you must be a friend'a...um...Tepet Forvias? I am, er, a humble servant'a the Immaculate dragons an'..." She reads the situation a second time and recalculates. "He knows, don't he? Okay, hi ya'll. I kin see ya'll 'been through the ringer, comin' in more beat up'n a yeddim wit' three right hoofs in'a land-slide. Ya'll settle in, I'll tell ya what we been through, then you tell us what ya'll been up to."

She proceeds to explain the situation at the pier, the current status of the Remora, and the lengthy flight from the coast. "Yeah, I know I held us up, but...I can't jes' leave a city burnin' up its food supplies, what with harvest endin' 'afore long. Ain't in my nature."

pfm1995

2020-03-06, 12:15 AM

Tuoni had spent the entire flight sitting as high as he could on the southerner turned Sky Titan, laughing at the wind in his hair and the ground whirling by below them. By the time they met with the others, he was in a truly fantastic mood that was hardly dampened at all by their evident injuries. They were still alive, after all, so what was there to worry about? The dragonblooded - Forvias, he dimly remembered his name being - was a different story though. Tuoni had seen that flat stare before, in the eyes of men coming back from the war with the Bull and in children who'd realized their parents weren't coming back. He'd need to talk to Wic, Slang, and make inquiries in the city - there were a variety of hallucinogens that would help with coping and lessen the nightmares, but all the ones he knew grew in the norther forests.

Ascension

2020-03-09, 12:11 PM

Kelam is weary in body and soul, but the presence of Brown Leaf... and the reminder of her oh-so-characteristically-Brown-Leaf inability to tolerate the sight of suffering... nourishes her like water.

"We... fought a Deathlord," she reports. And then a hesitant smile creeps onto her face. "We... defeated a Deathlord."

The slight smile wavers for a moment, warring with concern, but emerges victorious.

"She will return, but... for now she's gone. For now she can't hurt anyone."

She looks to the South, toward the Lap, and places a hand on the hilt of her sword.

"And the Hortatum is next."

Malozing

2020-03-10, 08:59 PM

Before they could begin the flight to meet the others, the Tya pours most of their energy into healing Wic’s wounds and double-checking Kelam’s bandages. As Slang wrapped protective gauze over marred skin, essence rushed from their fingers, encouraging the skin to knit together faster.

Spent 8 XP for Instant Treatment Methodology. Using it and Wound-Cleansing Meditation.

Medicine 4 + Intelligence 3 + Stunt 2 = 9
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

Leaf and Kelam’s chatter has Slang relaxing their shoulders; everyone is safe for now. No wounds between these three to patch up. Thank goodness.

“Don’t forget. We took Heron’s stuff. Hopefully, that will delay her return even more.”

Ascension

2020-03-12, 06:03 PM

Mal, could you roll Wound-Mending Care Technique healing for Kelam, too? Our timeline is already a little fudged, so I'm fine with fudging enough that the WP cost is irrelevant, and I don't want to have to keep track of Kelam's preexisting wounds in the combat to come would like for undead waifu to be back in fighting trim.

"I'm here, too," Drogath speaks up. His face still has a pale and haggard cast, but he has collected himself as well as could possibly be expected. He looks around at the collection of Anathema he's somehow fallen in with with a mixture of disbelief and distaste. "If anything you said about the Hortatum is true, then for the sake of the Realm, I will join your fight. And when they are dead..."

He tries to glare, but can't quite disguise the fear in his eyes.

"We're done, understood?"

pfm1995

2020-03-13, 07:24 PM

Tuoni patted Drogath carefully on the shoulder. "You're not the first here to say that, I think."

He stepped past them all to examine their new-found artifacts, a slight frown curling on his face. "Good to not leave them there, but I wonder... when she does come back, won't this send her right back to you?"

Inspector Valin

2020-03-14, 10:32 AM

"Plausible. But what's the alternative? I'd rather not leave something like this anywhere she can get it. It's far too dangerous." Wic finally speaks up, in response to Tuoni's question. It looks like the effort drains him: even after Slang's attention, the sorcerer still looks pale, tired, far from his best. Still he manages a faint smile for Tuoni as he hefts the parason aloft for the man's inspection. "At least coming to Creation will make it harder for her to get it back. And who knows - with some study, we might be able to find a use for it."

Truth be told, Wirric is tired. And for the first time in a long time, Wirric is nervous. Their fight with the Heron was a close run thing. The next battle may be harder. And after leaving so much of his blood on Dari's stones, Wic can't quite bring himself to feel his past confidence. No matter how much power they can bring to bear... the opposition likely has more.

pfm1995

2020-03-14, 08:26 PM

Tuoni glances at the parcel, nodding. "At the very least, I suppose they would make a good test-run for breaking other artifacts. Now, we should get you all some food. There's no sense heading into the Lap in this state."

Ascension

2020-03-14, 10:33 PM

"Her artifacts are forged from suffering. Better to destroy them than to try to use them," Kelam opines.

Drogath focuses more on Tuoni's other suggestion, and harrumphs in response.

"If you head into the Lap in this state," he says, with a pointed glance up toward the Sky Titan towering over the assembly, "You're going to rouse the whole garrison against you."

Sticks

2020-03-15, 12:31 AM

Leaf looks at the artifacts and feels her gorge rise. That same impulse that propelled her across the arena floor all those months ago against Kelam...a lifetime ago it felt...wells within her, but she buries it.

"Ah think you got the right idea there, Tuoni." She walks to the pile of soulsteel armor and turns a pauldron over with her toe, trying to avoid shuddering at the touch of soulsteel. "I been hopin' t' find some'a this-here underworld steel. If'n what Kelam an'...wassisname, fellah what told us 'bout the Hortatum...tol' me 'bout this stuff is accurate, there's livin' souls ain't yet been released all bound up in there."

Idly, as though the gesture holds no significance, Leaf produces a mote of sunfire in her palm and begins rolling it about her fingers. The shadows moving under the surface of the steel contort themselves into unspeakable shapes as the divine flame illuminates them. "I'd like t' git some time wit' these, once we got a free minute. World-savin' comes firs', but I'm aimin' fer some soul-savin' afore long." She gives Kelam a meaningful look, then dismisses the sunfire. Her face quickly reverts to its default jocularity.

"Food sounds good, we got some salt-fish an' water from th' ship, plus we got given some almond-cakes'n yeddim-butter from th' city. 'Spect they wanted us t' move on right-quick."

Eurus

2020-03-15, 10:41 AM

Skymoth returns to human shape with an audible "pop" of displaced air. He has the curious sensation of his wings being tired even though he doesn't currently have wings.

"I can't believe I missed that fight. One of you needs to write a ballad about it, at least."

He gives the artifacts a look, and grimaces.

"Vile. I don't suppose we can just hurl them into the Elemental Pole of Fire or something?"

Ascension

2020-03-15, 04:40 PM

As the meal is laid out, Kelam crosses shyly to her girlfriend's side and lays an awkward but affectionate hand on her shoulder.

"Thank you, Pearl," she says softly.

Skymoth's suggestion for what to do with the artifacts draws a contemplative frown from her.

"I don't know if anyone has tried that. The Pole of Fire might well destroy them, but the souls within them would doubtless be lost as well."

The loss of the ancient, long-tormented souls within the Heron's own artifacts might not trouble Kelam, but to consign Machi, her sensei, and the rest of her family to oblivion... she shudders at the thought.

"Before you worry too much about how to spare damned souls, can we focus on how to approach the situation in the Lap?" Drogath complains. The gauntlets of his Jade armor are awkwardly indelicate for handling salt-fish, but he fumbles ahead with no movement to disarm.

Eurus

2020-03-15, 05:30 PM

"Yeah, what are we actually looking for here? Someone cackling on top of the Penitent's head, surrounded by sorcerous runes?"

Skymoth doubted it would be that easy, but if it was, he was all in favor of turning into a giant dinosaur and trying to bite the fellow's head off.

"Also, clarify for me, because I don't know much about geomancy: can we destroy this thing before our enemy unleashes it, or would that be just as bad?"

Sticks

2020-03-15, 08:16 PM

Brown Leaf sighs and leans into Kelam's shoulder. She really missed this. How quickly one gets used to a new source of comfort, she muses to herself. She can't help but engage in the conversation, though. Keeping quiet when she has knowledge has never been one of her skills.

"Naw brother, the Penitent's all kinds'a tied up in th' South's geomancy. If...hrm...think'a it like this. Either by chance, th' dragons or ancient 'nathema..." she couldn't help glancing at Wic as she said the last part. "th' dragon-lines all tie back t' the penitent. Think'a a post driven inta' the ground wit' hundreds'a threads all wrapped 'round it." Leaf leans forward and draws a diagram in the sand. "If'n th' post breaks, all'a them tight-wound threads'r gonna pull at once. Either they's gonna tangle themselves up, or they's gonna burst out erry which-a-way." She scatters the sands with a hand. " 'A'course, in this case each'a them 'threads' is carryin' near-limitless elemental power, so it'd be like unleashin' th' full might'a the Empress's Sword on th' south. Ain't gonna be no south after that."

She leans back and snuggles into Kelam's side. She's never much thought about her own height, but she likes how much taller Kelam is, it makes her feel safe. "Thing that makes me wonder though...somethin' that old an' powerful wit' the elements, you'd think th' spirit-courts'd have somebody important watchin' fer stuff like this."

She lets that idea hang on the air for a moment, then turns to Drogath.

"As far as gettin' in, yer Lordship, we'd figured on movin' in quick an' tryin' t' find th' Hortatum an' end 'em, hopefully easy-like. 'Cept we ain't certain what a Hortatum looks like, so we's trackin' this big Solar feller what's travelin' with 'em. Now, as far's gettin' in...we got us a right respectable scion'a House Cathak wit' us now, don't we?" She gives him a meaningful look.

Malozing

2020-03-15, 09:03 PM

Slang grabs a handful of salted fish and gives the majority of them to Wic. "Eat. You lost a good deal of blood. Food will help even if you don't feel like eating."

Turning to Sky Moth, the Tya shoots the man a friendly smile. "Oh, we could have used the lot of you. It was a hard battle. Though good news for you, we're heading into another fight fairly soon."

While the rest of the group discussed plans, Slang eats and decompresses.

pfm1995

2020-03-15, 11:13 PM

There should be someone from the Southern Court watching over this, yes. Tuoni says with evident disapproval. "However, what with the recent turmoil the spirit courts have been... less than stable. The censors and their attendants grow more overworked and corrupt yearly, forced to prioritize as best they can. And, should one of the star-chosen intervene, ask them to stand down? Why wouldn't they listen? We can attempt to interrogate the local spirit courts as a prelude to intervening, but I doubt it would accomplish much."

He took his own meal quietly, eating with his hands. "I also... I would also like to make a recommendation." He looks around at the group. "It is time we reached out to Ayesha. Leaf is right, we do not know what the Hortatum looks like or even what he's capable of - all that has to happen is for him to walk into a crowd and we may lose him for the next decade. Not only that, but Demetheus... he was a powerful fighter, and the star-born is chosen of Mars. Some of you here remember fighting Lupo. We may need her help, or at least her guidance."

Sticks

2020-03-16, 01:11 AM

Leaf nods at Tuoni's words. "Right, I had words with Demetheus's friends..." she briefly considers naming them, but decides against it. Drogath is an ally of convenience, and if he survives this quest, his knowledge could endanger innocents. She makes a mental note to dissuade him from capitalizing on his knowledge of southern Solars, or kill him should it become necessary.

"...He's a bruiser, an' a smart fighter. Prefers fists over weapons, an' uses his body t' protect his allies...I heard all 'bout how he protected that boy in Chairoscuro, an' how he figgered he's responsible fer his death. Demetheus ain't a bad man, but he is our enemy, least 'til we kin git 'im t' stand aside."

She splits the last piece of dried seaweed, hands half to Kelam, pops the other half in her mouth, then stands up. "Yep, I 'spect we should let Ayesha know we're closin' in. She done told any'a ya'll how we do that?"

Ascension

2020-03-16, 04:04 PM

"As far as I know, she didn't leave us any means of contacting her," Kelam says, furrowing her brow. "Nor did she give us much insight into her plans. The Hortatum is a clear and present danger, but Ayesha... seems content to remain inscrutable."

"I can't speak to that situation, nor can I express any surprise that another of your Anathematic cohort has disappointed you," Drogath says, "but I can tell you that the political situation in the Lap is more complicated than you may expect. The satrapy is governed by a triumvirate, and there were tensions between the satraps even before rumors of civil war began to spread. If the instability you encountered in Chalan is any indicator, then your Hortatum may be well on his way to tearing the city apart."

Eurus

2020-03-16, 07:41 PM

A month or two ago Skymoth would have said they could just knock everyone's heads together until they started behaving, but seeing the aftermath of the other Exalts carving through the Brides had changed him on a deeper level than was obvious. The thought of using divine force on mortals, even if he did his best to subdue them nonlethally, left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Fine and dandy, except that he was a warrior through and through. Not a craftsman or a strategist, not a brilliant orator. Just a failed nun who could turn into a dinosaur. Luna had strange standards when it came to picking her chosen.

"...I can scout, I suppose. If that would help. A fly on the wall hears many things."

pfm1995

2020-03-17, 09:52 PM

"A scout woould be very useful, especially since some of us will attract attention walking in the city gates. Wirric," Tuoni turns to the sorcerer, "would one of your elementals be able to send a message to the Heavens?"

Inspector Valin

2020-03-18, 06:55 PM

Wic takes a while to answer. And before he does, the sorcerer takes a deep breath, wincing a little at recent pain. His words come slowly, as though he were just beginning some simple lecture. "Spirits can't simply pass into heaven. That is not the way of the Celestial Bureaucracy. You need to find a Yu Shan gate, and have business enough to get you past the Celestial Lions." The sorcerer chuckles grimly. "We might have better luck going ourselves. The Solar Exalted likely have some rights under the laws of heaven, dating back to the days of the First Age. But I only know of a few gates to Yu Shan, and none of them are in the South."

Wirric glances down to the salt fish in his hand. It's proving an effort of will to eat. He sits down before continuing. "If you truly believe it necessary... we can try and approach Grandmother Bright. But that will cost us time, and I think we've a simpler solution" He closes his eyes, letting the material world fade away for an instant. "Lupo held the tournament in the Arena of the Sun because it was removed from the main heft of fate, our actions were easier to conceal. But the Lap is almost the opposite - this much essence and power makes it a confluence of the Loom. As soon as we start fighting in earnest, unleashing as much power as we can, the Chosen of the Maidens will hear us. For better or for worse."

Ascension

2020-03-19, 10:23 PM

The Approach to the Lap:

In sharp contrast to the unrest the circle has seen, and sometimes sown, throughout the rest of the South, the activity in the fields around the Lap is almost startlingly mundane. Even deep into autumn, there are still harvests to be brought in, and scores of workers labor to reap and thresh the last of the grain. Between carts carrying their produce and the wagons of merchants undeterred by, or ignorant of, the fighting in Chalan, the roads are busy. Outriders affiliated with the Lap's sepoys patrol the roads, but they are more concerned with raiding bands than with individual travelers; even as strange a collection of foreigners as our circle draws little notice amidst the usual traffic.

As the Penitent faces Northeast, toward the Imperial Mountain, our company approaches under its unfocused, impassive gaze. Every hour on the road magnifies onlookers' understanding of the statue's true scale. It looms larger and larger, subsuming the Southwestern horizon. By the time the circle reaches the rude villages clustered around its base, it has begun to lose its definition as a statue, revealing the mountain it once was. From the ground, its folded legs are sheer cliffs, patches of vegetation disguise its torso, and its stern face is oft-veiled by drifting clouds.

At the base of the Penitent, traffic slows. Foot traffic and hand-carts are funneled toward one of two main tunnels sloping up through the Penitent's feet, while animal-drawn wagons queue for access to a handful of freight elevators (their winches operated by the sweat of oxen, not the workings of Essence). Here, at this natural checkpoint, the soldiers on guard are a mix of sepoys and members of the formal Realm garrison, and they scrutinize the proceedings much more closely than the outriders on the roads. Native Laplanders and their freight are quickly waved onward, but it seems that most foreign merchants and travelers are being stopped for at least a conversation, if not a full search.

How do you approach?

Sticks

2020-03-19, 10:50 PM

Stooping as though to adjust her hard-nailed sandals, Brown Leaf addresses the ground loud enough for her group to hear.

“Okay, so are we gonna be a Dynast’s entourage? Buncha pilgrims, or a Guild factor’s escort?”

She carefully undoes a complicated strap with one defy finger as her other fingers look busy with a different one. “If’n we’re Drogath’s folks, will our first step be the Realm Garrison? If so, yer lordship, ‘member what’s at stake ‘afore you think ‘bout turnin’ us in, an’ know there ain’t much they’d be able t’ do t’ us anyway.”

Ascension

2020-03-19, 11:14 PM

Drogath harrumphs.

"I remember what's at stake. I trust that you'll remember that our interests are, for the moment, aligned... and that means that if you tear this city apart, we all lose."

He shades his eyes against the sun and stares upwards to the point where the outermost buildings of the Lap can be seen standing atop the Penitent's legs.

"The garrison commander is a Cynis bitch, and I wouldn't trust her, but if you think yourself capable of pleading your case in civilized company, I might could take you to the top. The most distinguished satrap among the Golden Triumvirate is Cathak. Cathak Sijip."

He pulls a sour face.

"I think shared blood should still be enough to gain us an audience, if nothing more. At least we could try."

Inspector Valin

2020-03-20, 09:45 AM

"A disguise isn't needed. Support isn't needed. More complicated schemes or requests for alliance only risk dragging more people into the line of fire, putting even more lives in harm's way."

Wic glances at Drogath, then at Kelam and Slang, before finally looking down and muttering to himself. "And that's not happening again."

He turns back to regard the line, even as he continues to outline his perspective. "We are simply travellers here to climb. People come to do so every day. If anyone asks why, give an answer that fits you personally." The sorcerer spreads his hands. "Think of it as the search for enlightenment. Everyone here has a perspective on that, right? Through the gate, up the Penitent, come what may. Couldn't be simpler."

Eurus

2020-03-20, 11:28 AM

Skymoth frowns at the mountain-statue as if it's personally challenging him. Not that he's ever had much of a head for art, but something this big feels more like a megalomaniac's boast than an artist's vision. Unintentionally, he suddenly imagines Ahlat taking offense and trying to headbutt the Penitent to death, and the thought makes him smile again.

"Fine. I'll meet you there."

He tries to find somewhere that he can be out of sight for at least a moment, to disappear without turning too many heads. He's not especially worried about it, though, and if it comes down to it, he's not above ducking behind Drogath and using the man as cover. Annoying the Dynast would be a bonus.

In moth form, he flits ahead, surveying the Penitent from a greater altitude and distance than anyone climbing on foot could manage. If there's any sign of trouble, perhaps he'll spot it first.

pfm1995

2020-03-23, 05:39 PM

Each of Tuoni's dragging steps sent small stones skittering across the dirt road; he didn't notice. His eyes were fixed on the horizon and had been since the great statue had appeared. It was... it was almost beyond belief. Even Chiaroscuro, ravaged yet still great beauty that it was, could hardly compare to this. Was this really their legacy? A statue carved out of a mountain apparently as mere decoration for some geomantic workings of unfathomable complexity - this was art. There was no purpose to it, no base need beyond a simple desire to make a mark on the world, and to do it they spent more effort than an entire generation of Linowa could likely muster.

It was profound, and almost heretical. If these were the works of their fore-bearers, then why the troubles of today? How could anyone be hungry, or cold, or afraid when their father's fathers could work such miracles. What had happened, to drag them so low?

The next time they spoke with Ayesha, there would be questions asked.

As for Wirric's not-plan, Tuoni just absentmindedly nods his assent. He wasn't in a mood for clever deceptions anyhow.

Malozing

2020-03-23, 09:15 PM

Slang nods at Wic's suggestion. "Less for everyone to keep track of as well. Sorry, Drogath."

Ascension

2020-03-24, 12:21 AM

Since Drogath is unmistakably clad in Jade armor, the soldier who approaches the Circle as they near the tunnel is one of the members of the Realm garrison, and he takes a deferential tone.

"I am sorry, sir, but the Penitent's upper reaches are closed to pilgrims at the moment. The paths to the arm forest have been unstable lately, and the weather around the shoulders unpredictable. You're more than welcome to contemplate the teachings of Sextes Jylis at the temple in the Lap Proper, though. It would be our honor."

Drogath briefly glances toward the Solars before he remembers his role here, remembers that, in public, he is the chief authority among the diverse band of Exalts. He straightens his back and gives the guard a curt nod.

"That will be fine, soldier," Drogath says, and begins to move past the man.

The guard shuffles sideways, awkwardly but efficiently keeping pace with Drogath's longer strides.

"Allow me to show you the way, sir," he volunteers.

"I have visited the Lap before, son, I know where I'm going."

"S-still, please allow me to make myself available to you during your stay. I can ensure that you have whatever you need to make your visit to the Lap comfortable. I insist."

The garrison soldier has the tone of a man who desperately hopes he doesn't have to word his demands any more sternly than he already has. Drogath draws a breath to argue further, and his eyes flicker toward Wic for a moment, but then he relents.

"Very well. Lead on, then."

Between the armed escort and the spectacle of Drogath's armor, the regular traffic along the tunnel has more than enough motivation to clear space for the Circle to pass unhindered. They climb up to the Fold, where the Penitent's massive legs cross, almost as quickly as Skymoth can flutter. The Fold is abuzz with industry, its mills and warehouses immediately swallowing the majority of the produce carried up from the fields, but again, the conspicuous authority radiated by Drogath and the guardsman clears a path for the Circle as their escort leads them on toward the Verdant Triangle.

While most of the traffic around the Fold seems to be business as usual, one curious phenomenon does catch the Circle's attention. Several signs of a distinct, well-made sort are posted around the area, and it seems like any passersby who give them any more than the merest glance are compelled to stop and read them in full. Is anyone curious as to what the signs say?

Inspector Valin

2020-03-24, 10:11 AM

Wirric glances to the signs as the group wanders past. He seems about to investigate, purely on reflex, but stops himself and returns to the path forward with a frown. No. No more distractions, no more trying to fix the world's problems. Whatever those signs are, it won't matter if we falter with our task.

Sticks

2020-03-25, 05:56 PM

Brown Leaf glances at the crowd. This does feel eerily similar to their arrival at Chiaroscuro, but then, investigating those poor souls had lead to Demetheus's circle, hadn't it? She hopes that this time, the sight greeting her will be less gruesome.

She runs a hand over her shaved head, straightens her dusty robes, adopts a suitably pious expression and walks through the crowd to see the signs.

Eurus

2020-03-25, 07:36 PM

Reading through compound eyes is really hard, but Skymoth does his best, fluttering around one of the signs until he can piece together what it says.

Ascension

2020-03-25, 10:02 PM

The signs, each identical, are wanted posters, but they are unlike any wanted poster Leaf or Skymoth has ever encountered before. Their calligraphy, rendered with equal skill in both Low Realm and Flametongue, is captivating. The graceful, sweeping strokes of scarlet ink seem more akin to a work of art than simple language, but their meaning is instantly legible. They invite... no, compel... the eye, spurring the reader onward.

If your character's base Resolve is overcome by this roll... [roll0]+3 successes... then once your character begins reading, they can't stop.
"The aged beggar sometimes called 'the Mendicant,' known throughout the Principality of the Lap for his jests and follies, and for his occasional gifts of downy pillows of an unusual sort," the signs read, and an illustration of the man in question follows, somewhat vague in its details but executed as deftly as the calligraphy, "is wanted for questioning, on suspicion of arson, in connection with the recent rash of fires within the Principality and its environs. For the safety of all the people of the Lap, the Mendicant himself included, it is imperative that you report any sighting of this man to a Realm official or garrison soldier as soon as possible."

At the very bottom of the poster, in the manner of a signature, the message concludes, "Your Prince and Your Golden Triumvirate Thank You For Your Invaluable Assistance."

Though neither Leaf or Skymoth is a native of the Lap, the wanted poster still tugs deftly at any sense of duty to Realm and satrap which may linger from their Harborheadite upbringing. Its appeals to patriotism and basic decency, along with the skill of its execution, resonate with them still.

The influence contained in the poster is a Persuade roll, which may apply if you have a Minor or greater Intimacy which would support bringing information on the Mendicant to the Realm, whether it be a sense of loyalty to the Realm, a dedication to civic order, a horror of arson, or what have you. If your character is susceptible, then the subsequent roll applies:
[roll1], double 7s.

Sticks

2020-03-25, 10:31 PM

Brown Leaf has to take a moment among the crowd. She feels the compulsion, the call to order and civility radiating out from that perfect...no...immaculate handwriting. She wants to begin tracking down leads, speak with those beneath public notice, the beggars and prostitutes, the ill and the destitute and learn what she can, aiding and mending where needed...but she has a mission. She just spent a day putting out fires, a day her Circle can ill-afford, and time spent there was time taken from their mission, time she could have spent here, investigating this 'Mendicant'. Whomever he thought he was, if he was an arsonist, there could be little pity for the man. Fire was too dangerous a tool to misuse in the dry south, everyone knew that. Brown Leaf makes a mental note to keep an eye out for such an eccentric, pillow or no pillow, and returns to the group.

Spending 1WP to resist the influence of the sign. Citing her Intimacy of antipathy towards the Realm authority.

pfm1995

2020-03-25, 11:29 PM

As the others disperse and the soldiers shepherd them forwards, Tuoni plays the tourist to the hilt - it's not like it requires any acting. Head on a swivel and more often than not craned upwards, he takes in the sights and sounds of the Lap ravenously. The great statue is by far and away deserving the majority of his attention, but the people, too, are worth considering. No Chiaroscuran's these, living in shoddily-repaired ruins; the denizens of the Lap walked with straighter spines and never seemed to so much acknowledge the greatness surrounding them. This incredible place was their inheritance, received whole and in full, and it was nothing more than what was expected. They were so very... at peace. Like nothing outside their statue-home had ever threatened them, like they'd never experienced life without full bellies and strong walls.

It would make meeting their rulers even more interesting. It seemed a poor bet that the Hortatum wouldn't have some measures in place here in the city, so maybe they'd see his influence here as they had in Chalan? Either way, now that they'd been marked it'd be difficult for most of them to slip away - Slang could, perhaps, but Skymoth would be their true shaved knuckle. The Lunar hadn't been traveling with them long enough to be as immediately recognizable as Tuoni or Wirric, and could shapeshift besides. If there was one thing the Hortatum shouldn't be expecting, it was the moth-man. So, Tuoni allowed himself to be led with the others up the steps of the Penitent, staying a few steps behind Drogath, and let himself enjoy the scenery.

Ascension

2020-03-26, 08:34 PM

The garrison soldier guiding the group seems entirely unsurprised as Leaf stops and becomes absorbed in the wanted poster for a moment, pausing to give anyone else who wishes to time to read.

"We've had a few tips since those signs went up," he volunteers, "but I don't think we've found him yet."

Past the Fold, the Verdant Triangle opens up, a fertile valley nestled between the Penitent's towering thighs. In contrast to the mass planting of staple crops in the fields surrounding the Penitent, the rich soil of the Triangle is dedicated to higher-status specialty agriculture. It is a patchwork of small vineyards, orchards, and gardens of all sorts. Even the neatly paved path leading up through the valley, from the Fold toward the Lap Proper, shows signs of the strength of concentrated Wood essence flowing through the Triangle... or, rather, it's clear how strong that essence usually is. Sprigs of vegetation spring up between each cobblestone, but presently they are all yellowed and wilting. The gardens and vineyards themselves, while in better condition than the weeds, seem fragile, kept in good condition only by the attentiveness of the workers tending them.

The Lap Proper, located atop what can only be described as the Penitent's crotch, is another sharp transition. Here, rising above the greenery of the Triangle, are the manors of the Lap's wealthiest citizens, its central government buildings, and the sprawling Immaculate temple complex. The construction of the buildings is decidedly in a more modern, Realm style... no relics of the First Age, or even of the Shogunate, are these... but they are fine work, doubtless the product of Dragon-Blooded architects. The decor varies between buildings, but fine relief carvings and mosaic tiles in Immaculate-approved patterns (abstract geometric patterns and subtle invocations of the elements) dominate.

The streets of the Lap Proper are quiet, not due to a lack of activity but rather a sort of reverential hush. Servants and couriers scurry to and fro on errands for their masters, but they are seen and not heard. There are a few notices about the Mendicant on the walls of public buildings, but they are unobtrusive, less apt to draw the eye, and written in High Realm and a formal, archaic dialect of Flametongue rather than more common speech.

The main Immaculate temple in the Lap Proper, The Self-Evident Blessing of the Sower of Seeds, towers higher than any other building in the area, rising in a series of artificial terraces, with lush gardens planted at each tier. The Circle's guide ushers them along an upward-spiraling pilgrims' path - a pale shadow of the blessed exertion one might experience scaling the Penitent himself, but still a reminder of the bounty which may be found in emulation of Sextes Jylis, He Who Hath Spread Much Grass. Here, in the temple gardens, the frailty seen out in the Verdant Triangle is nowhere to be seen; everything green and growing is still lush and strong. The pilgrims can contribute to that, as prayer wheels set along their path are mechanically linked to irrigation systems drawing water up into the terraces.

From the summit of the Self-Evident Blessing, visitors can see the Lap spread out before them. The Verdant Triangle is a rich quilt of varying shades of green, the borders of its squares edged in footpaths. The legs of the Penitent wrap around that island of green, and in addition to the bustle of the Fold and the splendor of the Lap Proper, which the Circle has already seen, they can take in a view of working-class Eastleg off to their right, all squat apartments, shops, brothels, and forge-fire smoke, and of Northleg to their left, home to higher-end merchants, scribes and bureaucrats, and the city's public entertainments. It is here that the true scale of the city itself becomes evident; while its layout is unusual, given the environment in which it was constructed, all taken together it probably covers nearly as much land area as Kirighast, and with a higher population density. Most of the villages fringed around the Penitent disappear from this perspective, hidden by the statue-mountain's colossal legs, but beyond those legs, neat, even fields of grains, yams, and peanuts stretch to the horizon, reminding the onlooker just how far the satrapy of the Lap reaches beyond the Penitent itself.

The small, immaculately-kept garden at the temple's summit is filled with pilgrims at prayer, some turned toward the Verdant Triangle and the fields beyond in contemplation of their richness, some gazing up toward the Penitent's hidden crown as if they might be able to glimpse the statue-mountain's secrets in the effort, some with eyes closed or downcast as they confront inward struggles. Overseeing them all is an elderly woman in a silken robe of pure white. Her skin is bark-brown and weathered even beyond what might be expected given her clearly advanced age. Her scalp is hairless, but her thick eyebrows are a vivid mossy green. She looks over the newest arrivals with bright, clever eyes, and she passes over both the striking armored forms of Drogath and Kelam and the exotic foreign looks of Tuoni, Wic, and Slang to focus on Brown Leaf, who has the semblance of a fellow monk, if an unorthodox one. She steps toward Leaf with a welcoming smile.

"Greetings, and blessings of the Dragons be upon you, sister. I am Archimandrite Laughing Peony, honored to be considered mistress of this temple. What brings you and your diverse company of fellow-pilgrims to the Self-Evident Blessing of the Sower of Seeds this day?"

Peony's laugh lines crinkle charmingly, but her eyes are watchful, peering into Leaf's heart.

Laughing Peony is using Auspicious First Meeting Attitude and a 2m Excellency on Leaf! This is a combined Read Intentions (to uncover Leaf's purpose in this scene) and Instill (to give Leaf a positive Minor Tie toward Peony) action, targeting the lower of Leaf's Guile or Resolve. If it succeeds, both actions succeed, though Leaf could still spend Willpower to resist the Tie.
[roll0]+1 success

Inspector Valin

2020-03-28, 09:07 AM

Wic comes to a halt a few seconds before the rest of the group does, falling in at the rear as Peony and Leaf begin to talk. The sorcerer glances upwards, closing his eyes to try and make it less obvious that his mind is locked upon the summit. Usually he'd appreciate the calm environment of the Self-Evident Blessing - as provincial as it might be, it remains a testament to the faith and dignity of its workers. Right now though, Wic feels like he's being hunted through a particularly serene field. However pleasant these environs might be, it's hard to appreciate them when worried about their overall goals.

Sticks

2020-03-28, 08:11 PM

Leaf isn't going to try to resist either roll. Girl's got no guile to speak of, and they could potentially use the help.

Brown Leaf bows low, hands pressed together, appropriate for a monk of the third coil addressing a senior. She does not kneel or keep her gaze lowered, that would be excessive. "Most honored Archimandrite Laughing Peony, I am Brown Leaf, formerly of th' Sands Edge Monastery, now kōun ryūsui." She tried the archaic term for a wandering monk, hoping it would land better than 'apostate drifter'. "With me are Cathak Drogath, a wanderin Scion of the Empress's Realm, Kelam, a skilled warrior, Tuoni, a holy man from beyond th' eastern periphery, Wirric, a guild factor an' spell-weaver, an' Captain Slang, who's ferried us 'bout the south an' has invested much in our mission's success."

"Mah companions and I are here on an urgent matter'a great importance, yer grace. We're trackin' a dangerous individual with intents on damagin' th' Realm an' th' South generally. We'd be grateful fer' yer aid an' all Heiesh's haste if'n yer free t' offer it."

She hesitates, biting her lip, wondering how much to tell, then decides to give the details. "Y'see ma'am, this fella we're trackin', Nazir, is passin' himself...well, him or herself off as a Dereth prophet. They seem t' be able t' disguise themselves at will, an' used this ability t' sow chaos in Chiaroscuro an' disrupt Harborhead's interior. We 'been trackin' 'em all this time an' cleanin' up the messes 'best we can, but it's taken us time t' learn their goal this whole time was th' Lap. We can't track Nazir directly, so we're followin' their companion, a man'a great stature an' Paisap's own strength named Demetheus. From what we know, he's an honorable man what's been led astray by a bad companion, an' I'd like t' offer 'im th' chance t' make things right, once he realizes th' scale'a Nazir's deceit."

She bows low once again, this time clasping her hands above her shaven head. "Please ma'am, my companions an' I wish fer harmony t' remain in Sextes Jylis' domain, an' fer that reason we need Da'aand's tenacity an' Mela's swiftness, plus th' freedom t' move decisively in our mission." She allowed a fraction of a head-tilt in the direction of the garrison soldier, indicating their present handicap.

Ascension

2020-03-28, 10:17 PM

Laughing Peony quirks an eyebrow at Leaf's use of a Shogunate-era term to describe her position, and the other eyebrow rises to join it as she reveals her knowledge of the Hortatum's threat.

"We are already aware of the situation. Abbot Remah of Kirighast sent a warning, and a Wyld Hunt is underway."

She looks over Brown Leaf's company with a dubious eye.

"If you would please share your intelligence with the shikari, I can arrange that, and it would be appreciated, but I urge you to let more experienced hunters continue the investigation from here. The Anathema are fearsome foes, and your Nasir seems, by all accounts, to be more canny than most."

She turns her eyes toward Drogath.

"Cathak Drogath, you were the one who called the Hunt from Paragon to Chiaroscuro, were you not?"

He doesn't nod or vocalize his assent, but a reflexive twinge in his face betrays the truth of Peony's statement.

"Then you know the dangers first-hand. You should remind your friends-"

"With all due respect, Archimandrite, they are an unusually skilled fellowship. Were it not for their assistance-"

"How many Exalted, Dragon-Blooded shikari were lost in your Hunt in Chiaroscuro, Cathak Drogath?" Peony asks, her voice growing sharp. "I heard that two were slain by your quarry... most of whom then escaped the Hunt. Would you not have said that they were skilled, on the eve of that battle? Would they have not said the same themselves?"

Peony's eyes and tone soften.

"You've done enough, Drogath. And you, Leaf. All of you. It was good of you to bring us this warning, but the message has been heard, and is being treated with all the gravity it deserves. I implore you not to risk yourselves any further. We, myself and the Hunt I have organized, will halt the Hortatum's plans."

She gives Leaf a maternal smile.

"You should remember, child, the lesson Hesiesh teaches is not the speed of the leaping flame. It is the wisdom and patience to wait for the right time to set the blaze."

Persuade on Leaf and Drogath to convince them to back off and let Peony handle this. She takes the multiple-target penalty, but is spending 6m on the Dragon-Blooded Presence Excellency.
[roll0]+3 successes EDIT: And -2 successes, for a total of 6, because Skymoth's response knocks off the last two dice.

She gets one non-Charm bonus die for every 10 in the original roll, so here are a few dice just in case: [roll1]

Eurus

2020-03-28, 10:32 PM

It's an effective statement, from Laughing Peony. She speaks with the flawless poise and presence that Skymoth has seen a few times before, from the Exalted. Not as piercing as the Solars could manage, perhaps, but effective nonetheless. It would be more effective if it weren't for the big white moth that suddenly fluttered in her face, very distractingly. A rainbow glimmer of dust flashes in the light, and then it's gone. Perhaps it's irreverent... but then, irreverence is practically Skymoth's middle name.

Argument-Eclipsing Shadow costs 5m, and gives her a penalty equal to Skymoth's appearance (currently 6) minus her Resolve, minimum -1.

Sticks

2020-03-28, 11:25 PM

Brown Leaf straightens to her full (petite) height. She fixes the kindly high-abbess with a look of solemn determination. Is there a flicker of sunfire in her eye? No, it must be a trick of the light, those dark, clear eyes hold nothing but an honest desire to do good.

"Archimandrite, I hear ya. These'r uncertain times, an' we kin' ill afford t' risk good folk on dangerous tasks...but Sifu Thousand Grains was my father in all but name, an' he taught me there ain't never a good reason t' sit back an' let others do the dirty work fer ya. I ain't 'bout t' shirk my task now, not when it's at its most critical. My companions an' I made peace wit' the fact that we..."

She looks askance at the large insect that suddenly flutters between them, half-raising a hand to swat the creature away from Peony, but things better as it moves on.

"...that we might die in th' attempt. We've been at this longer'n anybody, encountered 'nathema an' worse. If'n we back down now, an' th' hunt fails 'cause we been off playin' th' shamisen while th' Contagion sweeps the Isle, well that ain't gonna sit with me, no ma'am."

Realizing she's drifted into a slurry of idioms, Leaf gathers herself. "Frankly ma'am, we're gonna try t' see this through, with yer blessin' or without it. If'n all we do is call out fer th' hunt 'afore we bite it, well, 'least we done somethin'. Now, kin you tell us what yer best lead is?"

Leaf is resisting the roll, citing her Defining Intimacy of "Balance the scales of (cosmic) justice.' This should give her a boost of +4, bringing her Resolve to 8, plus any stunt rolls she got from her impassioned speech.

Ascension

2020-03-29, 12:44 PM

Leaf succeeds against the Persuade. Drogath, however...

"Brown Leaf... Maybe we should reconsider..." Drogath simpers, repressed fear returning to his eyes.

Laughing Peony closes her eyes and lets out a sigh. When she opens them again, they fix on Leaf with a maternal sternness.

"There is another factor you must keep in mind, Brown Leaf. If I allow you to join the hunt, your life and the lives of your friends would not be the only lives on the line. Far from it. All shikari have to trust one another in the Hunt, and, though it pains me to say it, I do not know you, or your fellows. I have met Peleps Thousand Grains; he is a good man, and I would dearly love to trust you in his name... but he is not here, and by your own admission, you are kōun ryūsui..." She smiles sadly at the quaintness of the archaic term. "You are masterless."

Peony takes a step back and looks over Leaf's full group again.

"If you all have faced Anathema, as you say, then you know how perversely devious they can be. You know their ranks include thieves of faces and corruptors of souls. You know that I have little way of knowing whether you yourselves have brought demons into our midst or not. You know that to give blind trust is to forfeit your life. If you deny the need for such caution, then I can only assume you are either fools or devils."

She steps back in toward Leaf, looking her fellow-monk in the eye with a tender concern.

"And I dearly hope you are neither a fool nor a devil."

Read Intentions on Leaf. Rumor-Dredging Gaze and Eye-For-Passions Scrutiny. Success would give Peony the Intimacy Leaf most desires to keep hidden from Peony, along with a related emotion-based Intimacy.
[roll0], double 9s.

Sticks

2020-03-29, 01:17 PM

Brown Leaf does not take a step back, she doesn't gasp, or flinch from the scrutinizing gaze of a senior Immaculate monk, one trained in rooting out subterfuge and alert at that. She gives no sign that she is intimidated, but for the most fleeting of moments, her eyes flick to Kelam, looking for reassurance, comfort, love. They are back to her interrogator in an instant, but the damage is done.

THERE'S your most secret intimacy, ya jerk!

Inspector Valin

2020-03-29, 04:50 PM

Fire. Crackling, burning, glorious fire enveloping every inch of the foetid, pestilential temple and this wretched old hag who dares to stand against the Chosen of the Sun. Peony burns, screaming out to silent, uncaring dragons as grains pop and simmer and the Verdant Triangle is engulfed by an all encompassing inferno.

Wic blinks. For just a moment, the Solar is deeply, truly afraid. He feels like he's back in his room aboard the Remora, above a blinded man, as an all too familiar sense of anger creeps over him.

He can't let that rule him though. He can't, mustn't, won't. He chuckles, stepping forward and shaking his head by way of apology. "Sorry. Little personal joke. I was nicknamed the 'devil of Whitewall' back home." Without giving Peony time to consider the story behind that nickname, Wirric places himself between the temple mistress and Leaf - raising his hands to forestall both sides, but his gaze focused on the Wood Aspect. "Archimandrite, there is a simple compromise to be made here. You don't want us to risk our lives against the Anathema. Fair enough. But you have admitted that this foe is challenging, demanding of the Realm's best, and so stepping away feels like a failure in its own right. What would you say to us providing less direct support?"

With a confident grin, Wic gestures to the others behind him. "Brown Leaf, Tuoni and I all have experience with geomancy. If allowed to ascend, we can work on identifying what malaise ails the Penitent. The reports of instability in the forests and uncertain weather seem... too well timed to be coincidental." The sorcerer hums, briefly pondering the issue. "I don't know if you were able to draft a geomancer to this Wyld Hunt, but even if so, a trio of experts can work over a wider area than any one. Our presence will hopefully remove the threat of the deterioration, allowing the Wyld Hunt to focus on its job. We provide assistance, and have enough force to defend ourselves, but don't take the risk of trying to corner the foe."

Wic takes a step to the side, turning his head to gaze outward. The Self-Evident commands a majestic view over the Triangle. Following his gaze, Peony sees the familiar sights of vineyards and fields that the people of the Lap have worked so hard to cultivate. When Wirric continues, there's a certain nostalgia in his voice. "If the Hortatum seeks to meddle with the Lap's essence flows, much of the bounty you have worked so hard to cultivate would be put at risk. I am no farm hand or gardener but I understand what work it takes to create. To plant the seeds, nourish, and watch your work bloom into something you can be proud of." With that, Wic returns his gaze to Peony, falling to a knee and bowing low. "Please. Do not ask me or my friends to stand idly by during such a time as this."

Charisma + Presence + Stunt + HPM + IDT +1m Exy (Discounted to 0)! It's the good old Stanton Combo. Citing Never Be Afraid To Meddle for an autosux and 3 bonus dice. Looking for an intimacy towards her fellow Immaculates or towards the Lap overall, feels like she might care about the potential devestation if there was any successful attempt at saboutaging the geomancy. Though given the compromise nature, could this be a Bargain action? That doesn't need an Intimacy...
[roll0] +1 autosuccess.

pfm1995

2020-03-29, 08:28 PM

Climbing the stairs of the Self-Evident Blessing - a truer name he hadn't heard - was a strange experience for Tuoni. Even before his Exaltation and subsequent Anathemization, his marriage was a heresy made even worse by the children that'd resulted from it and he'd had the occasional trouble with itinerant preachers or busybodies from the larger towns. He'd even had to duel a monk, once, shortly after his wedding. All that is to say, this was his first time actually inside an Immaculate temple. It was... interesting.

As a place of healing an introspection, at least, he heartily approved - it reminded him of the simple backyard gardens widows and widowers often took to growing in Linowa, and the trees children learned to plant when they were young. Good, healthy habits teaching long-term lessons. As a place of worship, though... it was lacking. More specifically, it was lacking in gods.

A place like this in the east would be a beacon to minor elementals and forest spirits, likely looked after by mortal caretakers and members of the local spirit court both. It would be a place to air grievances as well as to learn, and the conjoined center of two separate communities. None of that was present here. Unless Laughing Peony' eyebrows signified a somewhat unorthodox lineage - unlikely, given what he knew of Immaculate opinions on that - there was no-one here to speak for the spirits. No wonder their plants were dying.

Examining the temple at least distracts him from the conversation in front of him - he'd already caught himself from interjecting twice already. The description of him as a 'holy man' was inaccurate at best, and the idea that he was some kind of geomancy expert was flatly laughable - Tuoni knew about as much about geomancy as he did about Shogunate poetry. The woman's faith in her 'shikari' also deserved a least a little scorn - he'd fought true shikari, at the Isle of the Sun, and those they'd fought outside Kirghast had been children playing at war in comparison. Unless they were breaking out those killers again, he didn't see how they'd be any help.

None of that seemed like it'd improve the situation, though, so instead he steps aside to where he can see the Penitent's face. There's a question they haven't asked yet - why is the climb to the top closed?

Ascension

2020-03-30, 12:22 AM

Peony frowns silently as she registers Brown Leaf's love for the swordswoman. So that's why she wanders without a temple or monastery to call home?

A fool she is, then.

The self-professed devil, however, has a point, as loathe as she is to admit it. She pauses, weighing her options, and then she offers a concession.

She steps closer to the visitors and lowers her voice, taking them into confidence.

"The route to the summit is closed in large part to impede the Hortatum, but there are disturbances in the local geomancy. I can allow you take a look; there may be something there we have missed. But I insist on sending an escort with you when you scale the Penitent. Call it an excess of caution if you must, but better to practice an excess of caution than to risk our foe's victory.

"We have some spare quarters for pilgrims and postulants in the lower levels of the temple; I invite you to stay here and rest from your journey while I organize your escort. You can leave at first light in the morning and take the day tomorrow for your geomantic observations."

Eurus

2020-03-30, 02:49 PM

Skymoth isn't in much of a condition to speak right now, of course -- he's considered returning to human form, but the thought that his presence might be a surprise to their enemy is a potential advantage he can't throw away just yet. He flits from one shoulder to the next, gliding around on tiny air currents as he contemplates the situation. He knows nothing about geomancy, but any excuse that gets them to the top of the Penitent is one worth pursuing. It would be trivial for him to go up there himself, but he doesn't know enough about the situation or the opponent... boldness is a virtue in a warrior, but recklessness sees your blood watering the fields.

pfm1995

2020-04-01, 07:57 PM

Tuoni nods his head, more than happy to accept a warm bead and hot meal before their morning climb of the mountain-statue. Besides, he was curious to see what bounties this city filled the Immaculate plates with.

Malozing

2020-04-01, 09:43 PM

"Thank you for the offer," Slang replies with a smile. "I am sure that the majority of us will be happy for a bed without rocks digging into our back."

Sticks

2020-04-02, 08:00 PM

Brown Leaf means to protest. She doesn't want to be bogged down in the rituals of Immaculate living, not now when their goal is so close, not when she and the others will be so scrutinized and observed...but it's clear she's out-voted by her tired companions. Swallowing her protests, she mutely ascents.

Ascension

2020-04-02, 10:03 PM

Peony remains at the summit of the temple, and the garrison soldier departs, as an acolyte leads the group to their temporary lodgings. En route, Kelam, noticing Brown Leaf's suppressed discontent, catches her girlfriend's hand and gives it a brief, reassuring squeeze.

The quarters to which the Exalts are led are deep enough into the temple to make a covert exit difficult, but not so exposed or integrated into the temple's daily routines as Brown Leaf might fear. This is no communal dormitory for resident monks; these are cells for contemplatives and pilgrims, travelers who either have a desire to be left alone with the scriptures, the leverage to purchase privacy, or both. The rooms are cramped, with space for little more than a narrow, firm bed and a small writing desk, and dark, with no access to natural light, but they are solitary. The newcomers scarcely even hear anyone stealing through the corridors until about an hour later, when a messenger comes around to call.

The messenger calls on Drogath only, but Drogath makes the rounds afterward to give everyone else the news. As it happens, Satrap Cathak Sijip, on hearing of Drogath's arrival in town, extended an invitation for him to dine with her at her estate this evening, and sent word that his associates are free to attend as well, at their discretion. Drogath is, frankly, a little surprised that his distant cousin has even heard of him, but he's enthusiastic to accept her invitation.

"Would you like to come? Folks like you seldom have the chance to dine with satraps, eh?" he asks.

Sticks

2020-04-03, 10:34 AM

Brown Leaf gives Drogath a tired smile. "I appreciate yer offer, yer lordship, but I'll have t' decline. Ain't the place'a a mortal Immaculate monk, let alone one as colorfully rustic 's'me t' dine with th' satrap, no matter who mah friends are." She thinks for a moment. "One tic, if ya please."

Rising off her cot, Leaf crosses the hall and taps on Kelam's door. "Jarabi, Drogath's invitin' folks t' dinner wit' his relatives. I'm stayin', but I think you should go. Face it, love, y' clean up too nicely t' not accept. I'll be okay here in th' temple. You have a good time."

pfm1995

2020-04-03, 08:15 PM

Tuoni tilts his head at the offer, slowly weighing risk and reward. "I would enjoy eating a proper meal, thank you. But, you do understand that I was not raised in the Realm and am not a Dynast? If this meal will be filled with pleasantries and ceremony, you will probably find me a poor guest. Do you think that that will be a problem?"

Ascension

2020-04-04, 10:46 AM

"Are you sure, Pearl?" Kelam asks. "You look nicer than you'll ever admit in fancy dress, yourself. Don't you still have that outfit you wore back in Chiaroscuro?"

Her smile fades, and she leans in closer to her girlfriend.

"More importantly, will you be alright here? If you... need a break from your past, I'd understand."

Meanwhile, Drogath grins at Tuoni.

"Oh no, not at all! Novelties are always welcome at any sort of gathering like this. Why, I'd wager the satrap herself has never seen a genuine Linowan shaman before; she should be thrilled to have you as a guest!"

Drogath shows no sign of registering, on any level, that treating a person as entertainment might, itself, be impolite.

Sticks

2020-04-04, 11:07 AM

Brown Leaf smiles and leans in to give Kelam a kiss on her chin. "I'll be okay Jarabi. I ain't gonna deny, in some ways it feels good t' jes be seen as a monk, 'specially after dealin' with Wind an' his...beliefs."

She hugs Kelam and laughs. "An' don't worry none, I'll wear that outfit jes fer you when this is all over. Heck, I 'spect folks'll be fallin' over themselves t' treat us t' fancy dinners once we done saved Creation, I may need t' make us both new outfits jes t' keep up with 'em all."

When the others leave, Brown Leaf puts on a clean robe and begins to wander the gardens, observing what she can of the beautiful landscape and trying to parse the Dragon Lines of this sacred place. She sinks her toes into soil, pinches leaves off trees, tastes fruit and water, holds her hand over candle-flames, watches smoke from incense and drops pebbles onto slopes to see which way they roll, all the while probing with her essence.

Leaf is making a Craft: Geomancy roll to see what she can glean about the essence of this land. Spending Four motes for a craft excellency. Int + Craft+ Specialty+Stunt+Excellency (4)
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

Malozing

2020-04-04, 11:17 AM

Slang raises an eyebrow. "Oh, so we'll be the entertainment for the meal?" The Tya ponders a moment and turns to Wic. "Might be a good place to get information. You coming?"

Eurus

2020-04-04, 11:22 AM

Skymoth lands on the door to Leaf's dresser when she goes to get her new robes. The slow ripple of its wings seems to somehow wordlessly ask a pointed question -- does she want backup? Obviously Skymoth is no geomancer, and his approach to problems tends to be rather direct, but if Leaf might be in danger, perhaps a second body would help. Or...

The moth flits to the window, through which the greater body of the Penitent can be seen, then back to Leaf. Communicating that he could take advantage of this time to get the lay of the land, and look for any sign of interference.

Inspector Valin

2020-04-04, 11:54 AM

Wic takes a second at the offer of dinner, conflicted. He can't deny an ongoing feeling of urgency, wanting to get out, get closer to the problem and ignore yet more distractions... yet after his earlier near outburst at Peony, it might be better for him to calm down and a low stakes dinner might help set his mind at rest. He holds Slang's gaze for a while, evidently torn, before turning to Drogath and bowing his head.

"You decide: I've given you too much grief to impose myself."

Ascension

2020-04-04, 05:58 PM

Drogath's smile is weary, but genuine.

"You didn't kidnap me, Forivas. And if you hadn't come to Dari, I would be dead, or worse. Whatever you and your friends are, I still owe you my thanks... and you deserve a nice meal. Come with us."

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

When the time comes, Drogath, Wic, Kelam, Tuoni, and Slang make their way to Cathak Sijip's estate, a magnificent complex which sprawls across nearly twice the acreage of the official satrapal palace, though none of its buildings dare to rise so high. Though its scale and ornamentation are clearly symbols of wealth and luxury, the estate is still built with a soldier's sensibility, its walls more defensible than decorative. If the Realm's civil war ever comes to the Lap, Cathak Sijip is obviously prepared.

The newly arrived guests are shown to a garden within the walls, where pre-dinner drinks are underway. The garden is neatly kept, but not particularly inspired, a collection of rounded hedges and sparse beds of typical flowers. This deep into the fall, only the chrysanthemums are in full bloom. The gathered crowd is small, and seems even smaller in the context of the palatial estate. They number only about a dozen people or so, not counting servants and guards.

Kelam is, atypically, out of her worn and mended armor, dressed instead in her white kimono. The Mourning Blade is still at her waist, however, and no one moves to try to take it from her. Drogath's still-so-recent kidnapping has left him with no fine clothes on hand, and the timeline would likely have been too tight for even Brown Leaf to attempt another miracle of tailoring, but his new First Age jade armor, freshly polished, projects a magnificence of its own.

Cathak Sijip laughs when she sees Drogath's attire, but not unkindly.

"If I had known we were dressing for the battlefield, I would have come prepared!"

The eldest of the Lap's Golden Triumvirate smiles as she introduces herself to Drogath and his associates. Even without arms or armor, she has a martial bearing, emphasized by the high neck and stiff shoulders of her bright-red jacket, along with practical black trousers. Despite the longevity granted to her by the Blood of the Dragons, thin streaks of silver can be seen in her hair.

"Is one of your companions this... Forivas I've heard so much about?" she asks Drogath. "Hero of Chiaroscuro, and the man who warned Abbot Remah of the threat against our city? You must let me know if you've brought me such an august guest, dear cousin."

Excitement seizes Drogath at the chance to boast of his own connections to a more distinguished member of his House.

"Why yes, my good friend Tepet Forivas is right here with me," he says, clapping a jovial hand on Wirric's shoulder.

"Magnificent," Sijip says, turning her glowing smile on Wic, "It is so good to finally meet you, Forivas. I look forward to getting to know the man who's made such a mark on our South these past few months."

At the Self-Evident Blessing:

Leaf can easily determine that the Self-Evident Blessing is a Wood Elemental Manse, its own nourishing essence flows well-protected by its sacred architecture and the ritual upkeep of its worshippers and gardeners. That said, as the frailty of the plants in the Verdant Triangle suggested, the temple-manse is presently only a small island of stability. The essence flows into and out of the manse, its connections with the surrounding Dragon Lines, are disordered to a degree which ought to immediately draw the attention of any spirit court worth its incense.

Would Leaf like Skymoth's company as she investigates further, or should the man-moth check out the Penitent itself?

Sticks

2020-04-04, 08:19 PM

Brown Leaf nods to Skymoth. Yes, he should scout the penitent. As he flutters away, she takes a moment to marvel at the strangeness of her life these last few months. Just over two years ago, she was a humble country monk, empowered to demi-god status by the most powerful being in creation that she'd barely heard of, admittedly, but just a humble country monk. Then she'd lost her first fight since exalting, traveled halfway across the south, met and fought people she'd never dreamed existed, fallen in love in a way she never thought she'd understand, punched a dragon, fought an army, and now she was interpreting the fluttering of a moth. Life's funny that way.

Turning back to the task at hand, she wonders which spirits she can consult. The Lap is such a center of Immaculate power, no spirit of any significance would be able to sustain themselves in such a stifling place...and yet they're the most likely beings to be able to explain what's going on here.

She heads for the temple archives, and begins pouring over manuscripts about the local spirit courts, as is her right as a middle-ranked monk. Surely hidden among the platitudes of Immaculate rightiousness in smiting uppity gods there would be a mention of a powerful local spirit or court. Perhaps the representative of the Court of Orderly Flame or...something.

Brown Leaf is making a Lore roll leveraging her specialty of 'Immaculate Philosophy (disprove) to sift through the fluff and find the information she seeks. She's looking for information on local powerful spirits, particularly their sanctuaries physical location and connections.
Int+Lore+Specialty+Stunt+6m excellency(personal)
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]
[roll4]

Inspector Valin

2020-04-05, 09:23 AM

Wic does his best not to wince at the attention and the compliments. He bows low to the triumvir, leaning on his cane to do so. "I'm flattered that you think so, but it's all been happenstance. I'm nought but a poor cousin of the North who struck lucky time after time. The right place, the right idea, the right tool." He spreads a free hand, gesturing at the assembled party guests. "I merely do what I can to help. As do we all. If a little sorcery in the right place can save some lives, then that's all to the good."

Ascension

2020-04-05, 12:17 PM

Sijip's Estate:

"So modest!" Sijip exclaims, with a burst of companionable laughter. But then her eyes sharpen and focus, even as her smile remains as jovial as ever. "As it happens, though, I don't believe in luck. You must be doing something right, Forivas."

Sijip is using Soul-Piercing Predator Gaze against Wic, 6m out of personal. This is a special Read Intentions action to uncover his greatest weakness. This does require that there be some subtle trace of evidence that she could potentially pick up on, but that's why she's probing his (lack of) self-confidence. :smalltongue:
[roll0]
Before Sijip's manifest interest in "Forivas" can become too socially awkward, the rest of the sparse crowd in the garden begins drifting toward the new arrivals.

"We may be dining at her estate, but it's hardly polite for our fellow satrap to hog all the new guests to herself," one the approaching guests, a heavyset, bespectacled man, chides.

"I was just about to introduce you to them!" Sijip protests.

"Oh, sure you were," a dark-skinned man with a handsome, boyish face laughs. "Why, I bet you haven't even offered them drinks yet."

"All in due time!"

The handsome man laughs again.

"I don't know why we let her host so many of our parties. My apologies. I am co-satrap Peleps Tuchet, pleased and honored to make your acquaintance."

"And I'm co-satrap Ragara Aloru," the big man adds. "We don't make a habit of inviting just every passing Dynast to dine with the whole Triumvirate, but we were excited to hear that you were here, Drogath, so soon after we heard rumors you had disappeared from your home in Chiaroscuro."

"That sounds like the sort of story which shouldn't be shared with a dry throat." Peleps Tuchet beams at the new arrivals. "How about those drinks, then?"

The Self-Evident Blessing:

The Lap has contact with the Court of the Orderly Flame and other Southern spirit courts, but their interactions are limited outside of the prescribed festival days when the courts receive Immaculate-approved worship. There are some prayer rituals on record which might establish contact, but it looks like any one of them would require time and material sacrifice to prepare...

"Excuse me..." a gentle male voice intrudes on Leaf's study, "I'm sorry, but I... happened to be on the roof earlier, and I overheard some of your conversation with Archimandrite Peony."

Looking, Leaf can see that the speaker is a thin, bespectacled... monk? He's dressed as a monk, and certainly gives the impression of a monk, but for just a split second, as she first turned to face him, Leaf could've sworn he had a full head of black hair.

Leaf can roll Perception + Awareness at a -3 penalty to try to recognize that there's something fishy going on here.

"I don't know what kind of scheme you think is underway, what threat seemed so dire that you've rushed across the South, almost as fast as the warnings you sent ahead of yourself, to try to personally thwart it, but I assure you that you've misunderstood. We're just trying to reunite a family, and bring back a hero of a lost age."

He smiles gently, charmingly.

"Please, Brown Leaf. Hear me out?"

Favorable Inflection Procedure and 2m Sidereal Excellency [target number reduction] to Instill a positive intimacy toward this guy in Leaf.
[roll1], TN 5

Sticks

2020-04-05, 01:42 PM

Brown Leaf stares at the newcomer. "On the roof?" "Bring back a Hero?" "Reunite a Family?" None of the strangers words made sense. She'd been brought up with bamboozling platitudes, on the nature of the Dragons, the duty of a monk, all intended to teach a lesson. With a certain class of people, however, that was never the case. Their confusing half-truths had never been instructive, they only served to cloud the conversations, keep Leaf and the others on the back-foot, make them guess to be more easily led. It happened with Lupo, it happened with Ayesha, and it was happening now. At this moment Leaf desperately wishes for Ivory Knife's presence. The clever, deadly socialite had handled herself so well in that den of vipers in Chiaroscuro, she'd have been able to turn this...person's words around on them.

It's okay Leaf, think like Ivory Knife. First, see who you're dealing with. Is he really a monk? Is that hair? You had to shave again before coming here, so he would have...unless he doesn't need to if he wants to pass as a monk...unless he really is a monk and you're just being paranoid...focus!

Brown Leaf is attempting to see through the illusion. Wits+Awareness+Stunt+Excellency(4m)-3
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]

I will continue with a double-post after seeing the results of this roll.

Sticks

2020-04-05, 02:04 PM

Brown Leaf pinches the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger. This archive must be gloomier than she thought, to have mistaken this monk for...well, they had traveled here so fast, she just had Sidereals on the brain, she was seeing them everywhere.

That said...this monk was too familiar. He might not be the Hortatum, as she'd first suspected, but he is tied up in all this somehow. She briefly consideres trying to restrain him...but no, he could yell for help and then she'd be under suspicion. Perhaps she could gain valuable information by listening?

"All right, brother. I'll listen while y' spin a yarn. Pull up a cushion, I'll pour us some tea." She does so, clearing space for the tea-set on her low table. As she does so she pointedly places the scrolls she'd been reading on the floor beside her, out of the monk's reach.

"Now, you were sayin' somethin' 'bout a 'lost hero?' Tell me more."

Here's hoping a stunt bonus to Leaf's resolve and her minor intimacy towards the Hortatum quest boosts her resolve enough. At minimum stunt dice, that should boost her resolve to 7.

Ascension

2020-04-05, 04:22 PM

The monk glances around surreptitiously, and slides the archives' door shut before taking the offered seat and teacup.

"You may have heard legends of the lost Censor of the South, Swan Dragon?" the monk begins. "Fallen to the Wyld as he fought to hold back the armies of the Fae, before the founding of the Realm? He lived here, once. His abandoned sanctum lies within the Penitent itself."

He leans forward, staring over his glasses into Leaf's eyes. His eyes are so green, they're transfixing.

"His daughter, Ulito Swan, and I believe that he is still alive, these hundreds of years later. And very nearby. He's just forgotten himself. Well, we, and our allies, are going to help him remember. But we've had to act covertly. There are parties who would do anything to prevent Swan Dragon's return, parties who benefit from the corruption presently endemic in the Southern spirit courts."

He frowns and shakes his head.

"I know you've only meant well, Brown Leaf, but you may have tipped our hand. Many eyes are turned toward the Lap now. Not all of them friendly."

Sticks

2020-04-05, 04:40 PM

Brown Leaf tests her tea. She should have let it steep longer, the flavor is weaker than she'd like.

"Well, I'd hate t' think I'd inconvenienced anybody on such a virtuous an' meritorious mission. I'm no expert on spirit courts, but I hear-tell they're a right mess, 'specially when we Immaculates git involved." She takes a deep draft and pours herself another cup, topping off her guest's as she does so.

"Swan Dragon is known t' me, but I figured he was jes' plain gone. If'n th' records'a him are accurate, I 'spect he'd be th' ideal person t' talk to if'n somebody wanted t' know everythin' 'bout the Penitent."

The dark archives are cool, and Leaf draws some comfort from the warm cup in her hands. "Now, it ain't like a brother monk t' speak in plurals. Daan'd teaches us we may form an ocean, but we're each drops respective t' ourselves an' accountable t' ourselves. You ain't told me who yer allies are, 'sides Ulito Swan."

Ascension

2020-04-05, 04:54 PM

The monk leans back, and the light of a reading lamp's flame catches the lenses of his glasses, its glare concealing his eyes.

"Do you need to know that, Brown Leaf?"

Sticks

2020-04-05, 05:00 PM

Brown Leaf's gaze lifts from the teacup, meeting those opaque lenses.

"I feel I do, brother. It ain't like a monk t' be so secretive, 'specially not t' another of th' order...frankly, I don't recall you tellin' me yer name, though you know mine from yer eavesdroppin'. An' after we took tea t'gether an' all. I may be a rustic, but 'least I was schooled in manners."

She takes another sip, eyes staying locked on his.

Ascension

2020-04-05, 05:17 PM

The monk slowly raises his teacup to his lips and takes a sip.

"My name is Dozima Wokish," he says over the cup, "That much is safe to say to you, since all of the people in Creation who can connect that name to me, yourself included, can be numbered on one hand. But I have good reason to be secretive, particularly towards others of our order."

He lowers the cup to reveal a gentle smile.

"After all, by your own admission, the affairs of the spirit courts get especially messy when our order gets involved. And I despise mess."

Sticks

2020-04-05, 05:26 PM

Leaf puts down her empty cup and regards Dozima with some impatience.

"Well, now we've gotten around t' introductions, how 'bout we come t' some agreement, Brother Wokish. I'm here t' stop this 'Hortatum' that errybody from th' Reagent on down knows 'bout now. I dunno if'n you an' yer allies, don't think I didn't notice you ain't named 'em yet, got some connection t' th' Hortatum, but from what y've told me, you're jes' lookin' fer Swan Dragon. That's fine, I'm in favor'a powerful spirits what like order an' stability, trust me it beats th' alternative. Now, if travelin' with a Guild factor's taught me anythin' it's makin' it clear what you want an' what yer price is t' let me git what I want. I want th' Hortatum as quick'n simple as I kin manage. You want Swan Dragon. How kin we help each other, or at least stay outta each others' way? I done cast my bones already, so how 'bout you show me which ones yer holdin'?"

Ascension

2020-04-05, 05:49 PM

Wokish sighs. He feared this conversation might go this way.

"Please... have patience," he urges. He raises his cup again and takes another sip.

"I still need the Hortatum a little longer. You can have them just as soon as I'm done with them. As soon as Swan Dragon's back to his senses..."

Sticks

2020-04-05, 06:24 PM

Leaf's composure is shaken, but not broken. She steadies herself by pouring another cup of tea, though her thirst is well-slaked. However this conversation goes, she'll be leaving with a full bladder.

"Patience is a virtue I'm still cultivatin', rather like th' gardens of this-here temple. Thank you fer remindin' me." She says the words with barely-forced serenity. "Now, this is jes' speculation mind, but as I see it, yer 'usin' the Hortatum to yer own ends. That says a great deal. It tells me y' think yerself or yer as-yet-unnamed allies'r strong enough t' control th' Hortatum. That tells me a great deal 'bout you. It's one thing t' put down a threat, an' another entirely t' twist it t' yer own ends. Yer implyin' that you have th' resources t' hamper my mission, an' the mission'a my friends an' every Prince'a the Earth who's committed t' endin' th' threat'a this Anathema...who's not part'a your group. That's interestin'. Or...it means you're relyin' on secrecy, an' you got some kinda influence o'er Th' Hortatum, but you ain't willin' t' share. Again, this is jes' speculation."

She pauses, sipping the now-bitter tea. "I ain't one fer secrets. I'll leave that t' th' All Seein' Eye or the Satraps, they're operatin' on a whole diff'rent level'n me. But you're comin' here as a monk, tryin' t' dissuade me as a monk. So I gotta wonder...how am I standin' in yer way now, and how could a monk sway my thinkin'?"

Inspector Valin

2020-04-06, 09:56 AM

"Well, I must confess that Drogoth's 'disappearance' was largely my fault."

Forivas chuckled along with Sijip, and smiles at the arrival of her co-satraps, bowing to each. He follows Tuchet's lead towards the drinks, but starts his version of the story as they go. He's starting to feel more settled now. "Spot of bother with a doyen of the Underworld. Lady calling herself the Black Heron. She had me in a less than ideal situation, captured in the Underworld. Drogoth, Kelam and Captain Slang here came to the rescue." The northern sorcerer bows to his friends, before offering an aside to the other Cathak in attendance, complete with a winning smile. "Steadfast, honest and true - that's your cousin. He more than earned that armor."

Sijip catches Forivas glance to his companions before speaking. Even without clear confirmation of wanting to confirm or deny a statement, the dynast is checking with those around him, focused on what they're thinking and where they stand rather than making such decisions himself. This is a man who might be quite assured in his skills, but doesn't trust his own judgement. He may not trust others much more, but he is always willing to rethink a decision and that lack of certainty can cause him to hesitate and stumble.

(AKA, she might not get full context for it but Sijip totally nailed the basics behind Wic's Self (dangerous villain) intimacy)

For Wic's part, mass social action to buoy Drogath's stock with the party guests. He might be lying about what Drogath did but he is being honest with his positive assessment of the man's character. God damn it, we need to hang out at non Realm parties - I keep having to divert credit from Slang and Kelam!

[Same pool as he used with Peony, -3 for group influence. Keying IDT off never be afraid to meddle - Wic's love of being willing to get involved in things is why he trusts Drogath, and why he wants others to trust him too. [roll0] 1 autosuccess.

Malozing

2020-04-06, 01:01 PM

Ascension

2020-04-06, 05:01 PM

The Self-Evident Blessing:

Wokish shakes his head at Brown Leaf's simplicity.

"What I'm saying is that while the Hortatum is a dangerous person, if you pursue a blind vendetta against them you are not being helpful. Look..."

Wokish looks around the archives cautiously, re-confirming that he and Leaf are alone, and then, with a frustrated sigh, he runs a hand through his hair, which Leaf can suddenly see clearly. It's no transformation like Skymoth's, more like... the lifting of a veil. Wokish is still himself, still looks largely the same, but all the small details which might undermine his guise as a simple monk, like his unshaven head, suddenly reassert themselves.

"I came to you as a monk because, as aforementioned, you've put the Order on high alert, but we're not going to get anywhere if you insist on confining our conversation to a monk's logic. So let me now speak plainly... I know Ayesha, and I know you're connected to her plans somehow. And so I can say, just as you're fighting to preserve a tyrannical regime which mandates your death and the death of all those like you, because, for the moment, the continuance of that regime serves a greater good, so must I support the Hortatum for just as long as their goals continue to coincide with my own."

Wokish's kindly face hardens. The scowl might almost look ridiculous on him, were it not for the sheer conviction in his eyes.

"If you can wait just a little while, likely a week or less, before you start spilling blood, then I would welcome your assistance in putting an end to the Hortatum. But until Swan Dragon is restored to us, we still need their resources, so I need you and your Wyld Hunt to stay out of our way."

He huffs another sigh, and his face and voice soften again.

"Is that clear enough?"

The Penitent:

The paths that lead up the Penitent's torso toward the arm forest are subtle, but the warning signs posted at their entrances (which draw the eye with a now-familiar gravity, entreating Skymoth to stop and read), and the watchful guards nearby (a mix of garrison soldiers and Immaculate monks) make their origin points obvious to even a foreign visitor.

As Skymoth flutters closer, he sees a group approach one of the checkpoints. A loose square of soldiers surrounds two figures: a tall, beautiful, dark-skinned woman, bald-headed and clothed as a monk, leading a hunched, elderly, bearded man by the hand. The man's eyes are wide and bright with confusion and fear, and every few minutes he stumbles to a halt, and the entire procession with him, while the woman whispers soothing words to him. While compound lenses can, at times, distort perception, Skymoth gets the distinct impression that this old man resembles the Mendicant on those wanted posters.

The guards at the checkpoint watch the halting progress of the Mendicant and his escorts toward them with more than a little confusion, exchanging whispers about what might be going on.

Sticks

2020-04-06, 05:33 PM

"As mud." Brown Leaf says the words flatly, then grins. "Now if'n you'd jes lead with that, I wouldn'ta even been suspicious. How d'ya manage all that double-speak? Gives me conniptions, it does."

She pushes her teacup away. "Now we're speaking plainly, let me tell you my end'a it. Our information indicates th' Hortatum is here, now, an' movin' on th' Penitent. It sounds t'me like yer Swan Dragon might be th' most knowledgeable bein' around when it comes t' how th' durn thing works. If'n yer right an' he's around, but vulnerable, we best work t' git him secure so's th' Hortatum don't reach him first."

She taps the table with a finger, punctuating her point. "Now, our problem is that we don't know th' Hortatum's timetable, it took us months t' jes eliminate potential targets an' tie up loose ends across th' south. He's had that time t' move ahead, an' our information's already old. You tell me direct-like what my friends an' I kin do t' help, or where we kin steer clear from, an' we kin direct th' Wyld hunt off yer an' Swan Dragon's tail."

Another tap. "An no, I don't care who's side yer on, provided you don't git in my way when th' time's right t' take down th' Hortatum. You may work with th' Realm or not, but we're of one mind regardin' Swan Dragon an' stoppin' th' Hortatum's plans. Once that happens, I don't care none."

She taps the table again, harder, a neat claw-gouge is left in the wood's surface, her voice carries a deadly edge that would make Lou Kahn proud. "I will leave a trail'a Shikari bodies from here t' Paragon if'n that's what it takes t' walk away from this, if'n I know my main task is done. I'd rather not, I'd prefer t' talk people inta not killin' me an' hearin' me out, but I know that ain't likely if'n an anonymous tip says there's 'nathema among th' vineyards. Screw around with secrecy an' clever language again an' I can't guarantee I'll play along with yer plans. I've seen one Circle ripped apart by a whisperin' Star-chosen's subtle games already, an' I ain't lettin' it happen again. Y'hear?"

Brown Leaf doesn't like being messed about. She is making an Intimidation roll to get Wokish to take her seriously and not string her along, also to think twice before double-crossing her. She's rolling CHA+Presence+Stunt+TDS+4m Excellency.

[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]
TDS Re-rolls:
[roll4]

Inspector Valin

2020-04-06, 06:18 PM

Shaking their head, Slang moves closer to Wic. "Forvias tends set absurdly high standards for himself. It has him seeing his success as not good enough, but he is to quick to praise those around him."

"I give myself praise when it's warranted. I played no part in those events. You meanwhile were quite spectacular, Captain. There's no exaggeration in that." Wic bows to Slang, giving them a grin and stepping back, letting the good captain take his place in the queue. "When I am outdone, I have the grace to admit it. That way, my triumphs taste all the sweeter given time."

Not a lie. ;)

Eurus

2020-04-06, 09:50 PM

The sight of the two is startling, and Skymoth nearly falls out of the sky before he remembers to flap his wings again. Could that really be the Mendicant? And if so, he's walking right past two guards... Skymoth's initial urge is to tell someone about this, but it looks like they already know. Is the man in custody, perhaps? Who's that with him? Why does he look so disoriented? Intrigue makes his fuzzy little head hurt. After a moment of consideration, he decides to land feather-light on the back of one of the guards to listen to their words. Perhaps they'll exchange some names, or give him a clue.

pfm1995

2020-04-07, 12:11 AM

Dressed in the clothes Skymoth had helped him buy in the Kirghast market, patches and all, Tuoni limped through the cavernous halls of the satrap's estate and grew more apprehensive with every step. Out of the corner of his eye he could see great swaths of silk and tapestry rippling in the wake of an ever-present flock of servants, each one dressed better than he. And the satraps themselves... the only word that came to mind was 'plumage', strutting birds slapping each other on the back with broad smiles. It was an uncomfortable inadequacy - what did he, husband to a goddess and chosen of the Sun, have to feel inadequate about - but it was there all the same and it wasn't helped by the way they talked in a language he didn't speak. Oh, he caught most of the words and even the general meaning of most of what they said, but it was still an unintended slight - the language of the nobility, which he didn't speak.

He felt very, very out of place.

For a moment, Tuoni considered just... not saying anything. Blending into the background, letting them pass over him as some exotic servant and nothing more. Stillness is always the easiest choice, he thought, and almost always the wrong one. White Reaper at it's finest. Taking a step into the conversation, he spoke slowly and did his best to keep the slur out of his voice.

"Yes, such doings were grim business, but almost all acquitted themselves well." He said, shoving aside thoughts of his own ill-advised prayer to Gythuum and Drogath's scorching of his own men. He spoke in Low Realm - he considered speaking in Linowa, but it seemed petty and they were trying to be polite here. "I am... happy... to see that the famed Lap is not in the same level of disorder as Chiaroscuro." He tried, fishing for something that at least resembled a complement. "This Penitent is amazing, perhaps I could encourage one of you to tell me more of its history, later?"

He felt rather proud of himself for that - polite, and even an offer for later conversation that might earn themselves something. Gods, watching this farce would send his wife into conniptions.

Ascension

2020-04-09, 02:53 PM

The Self-Evident Blessing:

"I hear you. The situation requires a delicate touch, however, particularly with the Wyld Hunt already on high alert. The bulk of the Hortatum's allies are in the city already, and their aid is vital in locating Swan Dragon and healing his mind, but they will be an impediment when the time comes to move against them. In particular, their occult savant is already near the summit of the Penitent, and Swan Dragon is to be brought to him as soon as he is located..."

Wokish frowns.

"Can your people get onto the mountain covertly, to remain in hiding until you receive my signal? Does that sound achievable?"

The Dinner Party:

"Why, that is impressive, Drogath!" Satrap Aloru beams. "The rumor mill hardly gives you credit."

"In this particular case, Forivas flatters me," Drogath begs off. While pride often comes easily to him, he looks uncomfortable with Wic's invented accolade.

"Oh, not you too!" Sijip exclaims. She pauses to take a sip from her wine glass, and her body visibly relaxes, her veteran's martial bearing melting into a more sociable mood. "There's a time and place for humility, but it ill-suits Princes of the Earth. We are the pride of the Scarlet Dynasty, and we should never forget our station."

She smiles at Slang and Kelam.

"And you two must be remarkable individuals as well, to be chosen to fight alongside such illustrious Dynasts."

"We're not so special as you might think," Kelam says, shyly fidgeting under the attention.

"Oh, aren't you? That's no ordinary sword at your side, is it?"

"Umm..."

Meanwhile, Peleps Tuchet takes drinks from a server's tray and personally presses them into the newcomers' hands. When he reaches Tuoni, he smiles at the foreign shaman.

"The Penitent's history is obscure, far predating the Realm. Perhaps a gift of Sextes Jylis himself? Its bountiful essence makes the Lap the breadbasket that it is. Truly a gift."

If such a thing as White Veil Form existed, Cathak Sijip might now have assumed it.
The Penitent:

"I'm sure of it," the garrison guard is whispering to the Immaculate guard, "that's that Mendicant we've all been looking for. But why are they bringing him here, and not the dungeons?"

"Maybe for some kind of... spiritual cleansing? If he's possessed or something, the sanctity of the Penitent might help in exorcising him..."

"But we can't let them through, not without..."

The Mendicant's escort has drawn within speaking range now, and the tall monk strides to the front of the procession, pulling the Mendicant himself along behind her. She raises a scroll sealed with a magnificent tripartite seal, its draconic iconography split into three sections, applied in three different colors of wax.

"The satraps' seal..." the garrison guard breathes in awe.

The guard takes the scroll in trembling hands and opens it.

"By order of the satraps, we are authorized to transport this prisoner to the Penitent's higher climes," the monk declares, and the scroll, in the delicate golden ink of an official proclamation of the Triumvirate, backs up her words.

"This all looks genuine," the Immaculate guard observes, with wide-eyed surprise.

"Please proceed!" the garrison guard says, snapping to attention. "Grace of the Dragons go with you!"

"Thank you soldier, acolyte," the monk acknowledges the guards. "We all value your vigilance. Keep doing your duty."

And then the Mendicant's escort resumes its halting progress, continuing onto the upward-climbing switchback trail.

Sticks

2020-04-09, 08:05 PM

Brown Leaf grins a feral grin at Wokish. In the dark of the archive, with only a flickering oil-lamp, the effect of her gleaming teeth can be unnerving. It was a favorite tactic of Lou Kahn's, and Leaf had made it work for her before. "I 'spect we can. I don't doubt you know where my compatriots are right now, so you know 'bout my allies. Now how's about you tell me 'bout yours. Where is Swan Dragon's daughter? Who else is workin' with ya? An what d'you know 'bout the Hortatum's plans that I don't?"

The firelight shines in her eyes, and suddenly old memories that both are and are not hers flash within it. She has been here before, not in this archive, but perhaps on this mountain. A man very much like this had stood...no, knelt before her, he had given her information, but held back. She detested the games of intrigue the others played these days. It had been so much simpler before, when the fate of the world hung in the balance and the forces of order leapt at her command. She drew on that authority, her mantle given to her by the highest authority and the clever, ambitious advisor snapped to attention...

"Dozima Wokish, I know I don't have th' head fer yer clandestine dealin's. I ain't got wheels within wheels nor a carefully mapped net'a contacts, dupes, conspirators an' agents. What I got is a clear mission, stop th' Hortatum, an a very good understandin' a' what it means if I fail."

She slapped a scroll onto the table and spread it out, displaying an old map of the South. The map was at least centuries out of date, Gem didn't even exist, and many of Harborhead's lakes were simply river-valleys, but the salient details remain: crisscrossing the map are dozens, scores, perhaps hundreds of Dragon Lines, and Leaf has spent the last hour or so tracing each and every one of them back to the Penitent.

"If I fail, it's all gone, everythin' I know is destroyed. Th' Fane in Khirigast? Gone. All them pretty towers in Chiaroscuro? Gone. Hell, half th' blessed Isle will be in ruins if'n th' Penitent is abused. That's, I think you'll agree, "messy." " She stands, taking note of the stillness of their wing of the temple, the darkness of the archive with its thick closed doors. "Can't see very well? Take a look now (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lNhLwSa7tq8)."

Her caste mark flares, sending shadows scurrying into the deepest recesses of the shelves, parchment that has not seen the light of day in decades crinkles as the full force of a southern sun bursts from Brown Leaf's forehead. "Now, tell me what I want t' know."

Brown Leaf is making another Intimidation roll to get Wokish to tell her everything he knows about the Hortatum. This time she's spending a full excellency from Peripheral, and targeting any kind of latent intimacy a Sidereal might hold reminding them of their place in the first Hierarchy of Exalts. He may not be used to taking Solars seriously, but he probably has a past life that remembers all too clearly.
CHA+Presence+Stunt+TDS+Excellency(6m)

[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
TDS Re-Rolls:
[roll3]

pfm1995

2020-04-10, 12:45 AM

Tuoni takes the cup from Tuchet but doesn't drink, instead tilting his head. "You cannot simply ask? I understand that they often see it as beneath them to discuss mortal history, but the spirit courts are ancient and would surely have much information on something so entwined with the Dragon lines. If nothing else, I assume you have already consulted them on the current problems?" He stopped, backtracking. "I mean, we passed through the orchards. The problems with the essence flow are... stark."

With every word these Dynasts spoke Tuoni grew more and more befuddled - were things truly so separate here, in the center of the Realm's power in the south, that the satraps could not even discuss matters of starvation with the local court? The Immaculate Order did hold here, and though he knew the Fire Court had political issues it was still functional. Was this just... the way things were done?

Inspector Valin

2020-04-10, 03:51 AM

"You too have a passion for weaponry, Satrap?"

With a smile, Forivas is between Sajip and Kelam. He's not sure if she's outright suspicious or simply curious but either way it's safer to keep focus on himself. If he's revealed after all, he can escape relatively smoothly. He raises his golden handled cane, offering it to Cathak Sajip for inspection with a smile. "This might not be fine Jade but it's served me well over the years. As much pride as a prince of the Earth should hold, subtlety and understatement have their uses too. You never know who could be watching, after all."

Given its concealed nature, Wic wants to see if Sajip can work out how to fire Lusus. If not he'll demonstrate.

Eurus

2020-04-10, 10:15 AM

Curious indeed. Something about this situation makes Skymoth prickle with an uneasy feeling, and he's not sure what to do. His insights and strategies are generally limited to figuring out how best to stab someone else before they stab him, but if he turns back to try and get one of the Solars he might miss something important. He focuses on the Penitent, for now, trying to figure out the man's condition and why he seems so disoriented. Is he drugged, or enchanted? Would Skymoth even be able to tell? The moth keeps pace with the two as he studies them.

Ascension

2020-04-12, 08:07 PM

The Dinner Party:

Tuchet makes a face.

"We can hardly trust a spirit's view on history. They'll spout all kinds of strange notions to lead men astray and monopolize their worship. Best to let the Order mediate, as is fit."

Meanwhile, Cathak Sijip inspects Lusus.

"Your cane is a weapon?" she asks, caressing the detailing of its Orichalcum wolf's head. "How cunning!"

Despite her praise for the concealed firewand, she turns it around and promptly offers it back to Wic.

"You had better keep it close, though. It may not be the only threat concealed amongst us."

Her eyes flash around the garden, and a look of fear creeps onto her face, a vulnerability quite shocking to see in a decorated legion veteran like Sijip. She shifts uneasily, as if wary of every shadow.

"I have heard rumors that Anathema may have stolen into our city. Even in a small gathering such as this... we ought to be careful."

Sijip is using Wolves-in-the-Mist Incitement and 2m Excellency, Inspiring Fear in everyone present (her body language can cross the language barrier to hit Slang and Tuoni).
[roll0]
The Penitent:

While the Mendicant is clearly addled, he seems to have come by it honestly; his behavior is more akin to that of an elderly person with dementia than to someone drugged or bewitched. There is a certain something about him, though, that hints that he once was something greater. Aspects of his bearing, and certain of his mutterings, and an occasional glint of light in his eyes that seems more than natural... He may be a tottering old man, but he is not merely a tottering old man.
The switchback trail, a fold in the Penitent's robes, is steep, but the Mendicant somehow seems more at ease on the mountain path than he did on the city streets. His eyes are still wide and confused, but his feet seem to know the way.

"W-where are we going, child?" he asks the woman who leads him by the hand, his voice rough and dry. She flinches slightly at his familiar address.

"We're taking you home..." she says softly.

"Home?" He peers upward with unfocused eyes. "Where is... home?"

"It's not far now..."

His eyes drop, and he seems to notice the soldiers surrounding him and the monk with a sudden fright.

"Who are they?" he asks, stopping and clinging to the monk's side.

"There, there," she soothes, stroking the Mendicant's head affectionately, and leans over to whisper directly into the old man's ear again.

The guards, studiously looking away from the ranking monk's curiously intimate interactions with their prisoner, might catch a glimpse of a strangely familiar flash of green wings. To sight a moth would itself be no surprise, but... might one be following them? That would be strange, wouldn't it?

Mundane senses roll from the guards. Skymoth can reflexively roll Stealth to appear unobtrusive (using moth stats, with anything above Skymoth's usual pool counting like a bonus from Charms), but the guards are going to be penalized three successes due to miniscule size anyway. This roll will probably only be relevant if they somehow get all 10s. :smalltongue:
[roll1]
The Self-Evident Blessing:

Wokish scowls... he does not appreciate the tone Leaf has taken toward their cooperation... but he's certainly not eager for a fight with a pissed-off Solar.

"I have not been able to divine every aspect of the Hortatum's machinations," Wokish confesses. "It is... neither simple nor safe to probe into their secrets. But I will share everything that I can."

He taps the convergence of dragon lines at the Penitent labeled on Leaf's map.

"As I mentioned, Swan Dragon's sanctum was here inside the Penitent, and he was... rightfully still is... Censor of the South, chief of its elemental spirit courts. He is deeply tied to the elemental well-being of the South, on a level beyond consciousness. We knew that even if Swan Dragon had forgotten himself, he would be able to sense mismanagement of the South's essence, and he would be angered by it. So we... Ulito Swan and myself, along with the Hortatum and one of their Solar agents, a Djala called Faka Kun, acted to throw the spirit courts into disarray. And, sure enough, Swan Dragon's outbursts of anger against our manipulations led us to identify him as the Lap's 'Mendicant.' We're very close to finding him now; Ulito is out with the search parties right now.

"The Wyld Hunt's awareness of the Hortatum's involvement created complications... to ensure our access to the Penitent in spite of Laughing Peony's vigilance, the Hortatum has... acquired some kind of leverage in government. They're able to produce documents bearing the satraps' seals; I'm not certain how. Forgeries, perhaps..."

Wokish doesn't sound entirely convinced of the forgery theory himself.

"At any rate, when the Mendicant... when Swan Dragon... is located, he will be transported, 'by order of the satraps,' to his sanctum, where the Hortatum waits with their expert on the occult, sorcery, and matters of the psyche..."

Wokish looks Leaf in the eye, meeting her caged fury with certain sobriety.

"...the Perfect of Paragon. Don't laugh. Though a mortal man, his knowledge of such things reaches far beyond what he ought, by right of his station, to be capable of. I trust that the Perfect will be able to restore Swan Dragon's mind... which he will do, because the Hortatum needs Swan Dragon sane if he wishes to access the Penitent's true power... and then will be our moment to strike. But the Hortatum has their Solar bodyguard, Demetheus, and the Perfect has a Solar of his own. It will not be an easy fight."

Wokish lets out a sigh, places both hands on the table between Leaf and himself, and glares back at her.

"Now do you understand the situation, Brown Leaf?"

Inspector Valin

2020-04-13, 10:05 AM

None of Wic's intimacies offer a strong defense against Fear. He'll spend 1wp to resist

Sijip's words absolutely hit their mark with the northern sorcerer. For just a second his eyes meet hers, and he's utterly, visibly petrified. But then a change comes to the sorcerer, as though he realizes something important that'd eluded him previous. Sijip can watch him shift over the course of a second from tense and fretful to relaxed and confident. And as if to seal the deal, the man in the green coat shoots the scaremongering satrap a massive grin.

That however only lasts an instant. Then Forivas steps back, and his face is all somber frowns and seriousness as he follows her words to address the group as a whole. "As the one who first send word to the Order and Abbot Remah, regretfully I can confirm the truth of that. A party of Anathema are indeed on their way, the remnants of those who menaced Chairoscuro some time back. They may well already be here."

Before his words can linger however, Forivas speaks again, this time his grim look shifting to a more reassuring, collected smile. His news might remain bleak, but to all appearances, the wandering sorcerer is sure of himself. "However. they are not seeking to target our small gathering directly. They have been gathering information on the Penitent: stealing works on it and its ties to southern geomancy. They likely intend to make use of it in some nefarious manner. Perhaps to sabotage your crops, or spread poison through the rivers of the south"

All of these are valid theories. Personally Wic has a sneaking suspicion the Hortatum's true line of thought runs far greater than one city, but the Lap and it's food supply are a mighty prize in and of themselves, particularly with the conflict growing on the Blessed Isle. Forivas glances between the three co-rulers of the domain, chuckling slightly at his own nerve with what comes next. "It's hardly my place as some poor cousin traveller to speak so forwardly to a trio of Satraps, but if your honoured selves so choose, there's a simple way to alleviate your fears, and address the looming issue."

He raises his cane above his head, and a jet of bright blue fire shoots out skyward - gentle sparks raining harmlessly across the scene as Forivas proclaims his triumphant answer. "With battle!"

There's real fire in Wic's eyes now. Sure, he might be misrepresenting himself, but the prospect of finally running their foe to ground is one that genuinely excites him. And whatever her motivation, Cathak Sijip has just afforded him the best opportunity he could ask for to get past Peony's restrictions not only ahead of time, but with reinforcements. The Hortatum likely has eyes on the Lap somehow, and knows that they were supposed to be delayed. This might be their chance to take the rogue Sidereal by surprise.

He looks to Tuchet and Aloru, offering his cane handle to the pair. Lusus' eyes are glinting as much as Forivas' are. "We form a Wyld Hunt of our own. Right here, right now. Bring your soldiers together, scour the Penitent from head to toe and find whatever scourge is hiding on it, drive it out into the sight of Peony's warriors." He takes a step back, gesturing to the members of his group in turn. "Slang and I slew a deathknight in Chairoscuro. Drogath did battle with a band of them before that. Kelam and Tuoni have traded blows with foes you could scarce imagine. We have the experience and strength to form the tip of a second spear. While you are of course welcome to join us, and find safety by our side, all we need from you is the authority, and your blessing."

So. Persuade Action to get Tuchet and Aloru to agree to that. I'm banking on the fear Sijip inspired being enough to justify 'throw troops at it' as a manageable response to the anti-Anathema paranoia. And it's harder to counter an existing Persuade once it's been made, right? ;) I also have that intimacy of respect towards Drogath Wic instilled in them earlier to try and assist with this. Using IDT again (Never Be Afraid To Meddle)

[roll0] (+1 Autosuccess) Charisma + Presence + Stunt + Harmonious Presence Meditation + TDS + IDT (Never Be Afraid To Meddle) - 3 (Group Influence Penalty)

Sticks

2020-04-13, 04:50 PM

Brown Leaf leans back and runs a hand over her scalp. Her caste mark is still shining bright, but she no-longer channels essence to it, it will fade in a short time. Until then, she is stuck in here.

"So, Faka Kun was also in play? Damn, wish we'd'a been able t' follow up there...Yes, thanks Wokish. I'm...sorry I pressured you. We do seem t' want th' same things, at least in th' short term."

She pulls out a scrap of used vellum she'd scraped clean earlier, and a brush. In her neat, small strokes she makes notes of their conversation. Writing by caste-mark is always clear, the ink dries quickly too. As she notes down the Prefect, she looks up towards the ceiling and taps the wooden end of the brush against her chin, thoughts percolating beneath the surface. "Paragon...my friends were there recently...not th' city, they went t' Ol' Dari t' find Drogath. Found somethin' powerfully evil there, a Deathlord. They managed t' drive it away an' escape, but that weren't more'n a day or two ago. No way th' Perfect was aware'a somethin' that powerful in his own back-yard, or that we was involved fer certain, even if'n he knows somethin' happened..."

She gives Wokish an alert look. "Does th' Hortatum know 'bout our involvement? I know you know Ayesha's opposed t' him, an' we're trackin' them at her promptin', but I got no clue as t' their intelligence-work. Are you their eyes an' ears, or have y'been keeping th' Hortatum in th' dark 'bout us?"

pfm1995

2020-04-13, 11:22 PM

Cathak Sijip's fearmongering slides like water off a duck's back. Be afraid of Anathema? They are the anathema, and her frightened gaze finds only cool remoteness in the white of Tuoni's mask. House Cathak, it seems, has fallen far indeed from its glory days - as if he needed more evidence of that.

What Wic says next, though, almost has Tuoni crying. This is exactly, exactly the kind of rushed behavior he's been warning about since they met. What on earth did he expect from them? Their own group is scattered about the city with no plan and no easy way of contacting the others - Skymoth especially is still off doing reconnaissance! Not only that, but all together they have barely the vaguest idea of what the Hortatum is actually planning or what kind of back up he might have. Between Demetheus, the threat of other Sidereals, and any other rogue gods or polities, these satraps would be so out of their depth they'd be lucky to see the sun. Speaking of, did he really expect them to just go charging up a mountain after dark?

He stops, forces himself to breathe, consider this from more than one angle. He may be impulsive, but it is hard to deny that Wirric gets results. This kind of bulleying recklessness has paid off before, in Chiaroscuro and outside Kirghast both. And there are upsides, to this sort of non-plan. The longer they're in the city, the better the odds the Hortatum or one of his allies find another way to distract them - or even sic the local authorities on them instead of him.

So, aside from a slight tightening of his hand around his staff, Tuoni keeps his peace. The practical concerns of this 'plan' could wait - lets see if they agree first.

Tuoni will also spend a willpower

Ascension

2020-04-13, 11:26 PM

"They know, or at least suspect, that you pursue them, but they did not get that idea from me," Wokish says. "The Hortatum has cultivated contacts across the South, and you have not always taken... the subtlest approach."

He tilts his head, looking at Leaf a little more closely.

"Actually, the companion of yours who I've heard the most about from them, I haven't seen here at the temple with you. Out of your group, they seem to know your Ivory Knife best..."

Read Intentions to pick up on how Leaf feels about Ivory Knife. No Charms.
[roll0]

Eurus

2020-04-14, 07:50 AM

Interesting indeed. Although he's confident that the old man isn't being harshly coerced, Skymoth is forced to acknowledge that might just be because he's too fragile to resist anyway. And there's something about the Mendicant that makes Skymoth suspect that he's valuable, somehow, even if the specifics are beyond him.

Once again, he considers returning to find the others. He's not certain that this oddity is related to their goal, but for all he knows, the Hortatum might be waiting at the top of the Penitent right now. But he doesn't know where they are at this point, and he might not be able to find these two again if he leaves. With even more caution, Skymoth continues following from a distance, determined to prove himself useful in more than just a fight.

Malozing

2020-04-20, 08:12 PM

Slang snorts as Sijip weaves her words into a blanket of terror. The Tya wonders how the woman would react to the fact she is warning Anathema about hidden Anathema.

"Oh, don't worry. After rescuing Forvias, we know about being wary."

Sorry for the delay. I have not been in a great mental state lately. 1 WP spent

Ascension

2020-04-20, 11:27 PM

The Penitent:

The narrow trails leading up the Penitent's torso are, for the most part, ambiguously deliberate. Up close it's hard to distinguish what might once have been a natural outcropping of the stony mount which became the Penitent from what was carved by a sculptor's hand in prehistoric times or from what might have been chiseled out for convenience since the establishment of the Lap itself. The vicissitudes of the weather and the padding feet of thousands of pilgrims and thrill-seekers have worn all the trails to a similar state, regardless of their origins. That said, at the underside of the Penitent's folded arms, the Mendicant and his escorts approach one feature which is obviously the result of human intervention. A small diagonal passage, equipped with stairs, made just wide enough for people to pass through single-file, and made just tall enough that a Dynast of average height wouldn't need to stoop, leads up through the statue-mountain's arms, providing the means for a visitor to reach the Arm Forest without significant rock-climbing experience.

A man waits near the entrance to the stair, resting in a small fold of the Penitent's robe. He stands at the approach of the Mendicant's escort, holding his broad-brimmed hat so it doesn't blow away in the temperamental wind. He is a massive specimen of mankind, both too tall and too broad at the shoulder to comfortably climb the stairs ahead. His open coat exposes his bare chest, showcasing musculature to rival Skymoth's perfect form. The guardsmen don't seem to recognize him or expect to see him, but he nods familiarly to the monk who commands them.

"Glad to see y'all. We'd best speed it up if we can, though. Still got a long way to go. D'you want me to carry him?"

The monk isn't pleased to see him.

"What are you doing here? And what are you talking about? We only need to get him to the heart chakra, and we can manage that without help. We've come most of the way already."

The man shakes his head.

"Not the heart chakra. Boss needs him at the third-eye chakra. Our associates are already set up there."

"The third-eye chakra? In his condition? He'll never make it."

"That's why I'm here to carry him."

The monk snorts angrily, and Skymoth could swear he saw a spark, and a wisp of smoke rising from her nostrils.

"You can tell your boss that they're not my boss, and while I appreciate the assistance they have offered us, I see no reason why they couldn't work to restore my father in his own sanctum, where he'll be most comfortable..."

"Lady, I'm not trying to start any trouble. All I know is, everybody's already at the brow and ready to go, except for the two of you. I'm just trying to help you get your business done."

By this point the guardsmen look completely perplexed.

The Dinner Party:

Tuchet spends Willpower against Wic's persuasion in a decision point, but Aloru goes along with it. I won't reveal the Intimacies Tuchet cited because I feel like mystery trumps system transparency here.
"A capital idea!" Ragara Aloru exclaims. The portly, bookish satrap makes for an incongruous sight, suddenly declaring his enthusiasm for battle. "It should do us all some good to get out of here and do something, instead of just huddling in fear."

"We have our responsibility as satraps to consider, Aloru," Sijip reminds, "but we certainly ought to support Forivas in his heroic dedication. I've never met his mother, but any child of the Scarlet Dynasty should be proud to claim such a bold, righteous scion."

While the Cathak satrap sets Wirric off-guard with her effusive praise of the self-conscious man, her hand momentarily brushes against his, with a feather-light touch and a painless pin-prick. The move is calculated; she's kept a close eye on the positioning of everyone at the party and has ensured that she's standing in such a way to obscure everyone's view of the split-second contact.

No one should know there's anything amiss at all until the poison reaches Wirric Stanton's heart.

Okay! So! Sijip is attempting an Ambush on Wic with Blinded by Laughter, her "Stealth" roll (which is compared to Wic's Resolve and is also treated as her Join Battle roll) enhanced by Underbelly-Seizing Insight; she's leveraging the low self-esteem she perceived in him earlier. If the attack lands, she'll be using Birdsong Over Blades to conceal it; if it misses, she'll be using Owl Clutches At Night to disguise the attempt. Either way, everyone, including Wic, needs to make a Perception + Awareness roll at Difficulty 10 or they miss the fact that an attack was made.

Everyone present should roll Join Battle regardless of whether or not they realize that combat has commenced, but since Sijip is in White Veil Form and they'll be rolling in response to her actions, her enemies (i.e., you all) must roll with (Perception + [Lower of Awareness and Socialize]).

I know y'all aren't precisely statted for this, but I assure you, this encounter is not meant to be some "gotcha" TPK. It will, however, be a challenge.

I'm going to go ahead and roll both Sijip's Manipulation + Socialize + Specialty + Excellency and her attack. If the first roll beats Wic's Resolve and is higher than his Initiative roll, then the second roll will be against Defense 0, per usual Ambush rules.
Join Battle / Social Stealth: [roll0]
Attack: [roll1]

If the attack lands, Wic will need to roll (Stamina + Resistance) against poison, but will take no other damage.

Inspector Valin

2020-04-21, 09:15 AM

Wh.. what?

The praise was the last thing Wic'd expected. It's the last thing he ever expects, at least from someone who isn't Slang. Most of the time it just seems false to him. He raises his hands in surprised protest as Sijip closes with him. He doesn't understand what's going on, but it's clear he's far from easy with this.

Wouldn't self praise have the opposite effect on someone with low self esteem? It's something Wic doesn't expect and seems more likely to set him on guard than make him drop it.

Well this probably doesn't need to be an ambush to hit. Especially not with that harsh Join Battle cap. Buuuut... I'm feeling screwed six ways from sunday here. ;) Even if I plan to retire Wic, I'm not gonna leave the dope to die! So time for Every Trick in the Book.

[roll0] Socialize + Perception + Stunt - Join Battle
[roll1] Stamina + Resistance + Stunt - Poison Resist (It's sodding landing, we all know it.)

Sticks

2020-04-22, 11:59 AM

Brown Leaf grins. She can't help it. "Well a'course they'd know 'bout her! Though I'm guessin' not errybody knows her by that name. Girl's pretty good at drawin' attention t' herself."

"Actually, I'd be grateful fer any information y'might have on her. We ain't heard from Knife in a month'r more, an we left her in th' company'a a real dangerous spirit. It were her choice, an she kin take care'a herself, but I wanna know if'n my friend's okay."

A thought occurs to Leaf, and she puts up a finger. "Actually, let's table that fer know. I'll be able t' move soon, an' I'm afraid there's more goin' on than we know. In Chiaroscuro, th' Hortatum had laid a buncha false trails, an' we got bogged down in other affairs. I'm thinkin' th' same thing's happenin' now, but with th' Hortatum's whole network able t' act. I wanna check in wit' my friends, 'specially..." She gave Wokish a significant look "th' one wit' eyes on th' penitent right now."

Ascension

2020-04-22, 10:16 PM

The Dinner Party:

Drogath, already rattled by Sijip's insinuations about Anathema... unsure whether she's rumbled his allies, if the Hortatum's followers are about, or if some unknown enemy could be present... is at Wic's side the moment he registers the sorcerer's discomfort.

"Are you alright, friend?"

He's standing there as said discomfort transforms from mere social unease to a crippling physical pain.

"Friend?!"

It feels like a strand of pure fire connects Wirric's left hand to his heart, burning everything that lies between, but without the merciful release from pain that might come in the wake of an actual flame. The poison in his veins, while lethal, kills with more cruelty than haste. This is suffering, suffering the likes of which he has never felt before. Suffering beyond ken, beyond reason.

Kelam starts, then, as she sees the pain grip Wic. Her hand is ready on her sword in an instant, but she's not certain where the threat is, and in the current, rareified company, it would be beyond dangerous to misidentify the foe.

OOC, I can say that Wic's been hit with Yozi Venom. -5 penalty to all his rolled actions, and eight minutes of 1L damage per minute. IC, Slang can treat this, but may face some penalties due to haste and conditions. Unfortunately, due to its wording, Instant Treatment Methodology doesn't actually help much here, but Flawless Diagnosis Technique will. For best results I'd suggest taking an action (in Initiative order once Slang has rolled into combat) to diagnose, then an action on their next turn for treatment.

I'm also rolling Join Battle for the remaining NPCs here. Drogath, the background party guests, and the estate's guards are facing further penalties to JB from Wolves in the Mist Incitement in addition to the limits imposed by White Veil Form.
Drogath: [roll0]
Kelam: [roll1]
Background guests: [roll2]
Guards: [roll3]
Ragara Aloru: [roll4]
Peleps Tuchet: [roll5]

pfm1995

2020-04-23, 12:09 AM

Tuoni has to repress a snort at the fat satrap's sudden lust for adventure. If the man could even make the hike up the Penitent, Tuoni would eat his own shoe. These supposed 'rulers' are a strange bunch, aren't they - soft, but perhaps the most competent they'd seen in the Realm so far. Of course, that wasn't saying much when their city was on the edge of starvation. The Cathak, in particular, has him narrowing his eyes - "heroic dedication, "bold and righteous", such pretty words spoken without a stitch of action behind them. Doubtless she said the same behind the backs of Tepet, when that great house carried the honor of the Realm alone.

Carried along with those dark thoughts, it's only through the corner of his eye that Tuoni sees Wic suddenly stiffen.

Ooof. Well, Tuoni'll spend 4m on the Awareness excellency, in the blind hope of a dice-spike.
[roll0] + 3
[roll1]

Inspector Valin

2020-04-26, 07:13 AM

"AAARRRGAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Forivas' cry of pain as the poison starts to course through him shifts surprisingly quickly into almost hysterical laughter. Wirric had always had a fondness for dramatics, and even through the poison wracking his body the sheer appropriateness of this method of death makes the former Devil of Whitewall grin like a lunatic. Just what he inflicted on so many is now being done to him! He laughs even as he looks skyward, towards the heavens themselves. "The irony! The justice! Amazing! Thank you, sweet servant of Saturn. I couldn't have asked... for a more poetic death."

That word might be premature, but with the venom wracking his body it's hard to think so. Wic's cane falls to the ground thanks to his hand no longer having the strength to support it, the sorcerer falling with it, descending to one knee. When he looks up it's Slang Wic turns his gaze to, a faint spark of hope starting to enter his eyes. He even manages a faint chuckle of self deprication. "Captain, how are you with poisons? I'm... not sure I could self medicate efficiently like this."

I dunno if I'm supposed to roll anything at this juncture. Join Battle? I just felt I should put some kinda post up. Wic didn't see how Sijip did it and his assertion probably seems irrational but given her last remark and general attitude she's easily the most suspicious and he's on the verge of death so...

Malozing

2020-04-27, 09:50 PM

As soon as Wic screamed in pain, Slang hurries to his side and wraps a supporting arm around the Twilight. "W-Fiovias —" Green eyes already searching for the cause of his pain as Wic asks about their skills in treating poisons.

"I've got you."

This is gonna suck. [roll0]+3

Ascension

2020-04-28, 05:07 PM

The Dinner Party:

Descriptively, I'm muddling the order of Tuchet and Sijip's actions a little. Please pardon me.
Gasps ripple through the crowd as Tepet Forivas, their honored guest, collapses just on the verge of launching his Wyld Hunt. Amidst the din of worry and rumor that springs up in the immediate wake of their shock, Peleps Tuchet points an accusing finger.

"I saw Cathak Drogath touch him just before he fell ill! He must be the shapeshifter in our midst! Here is our Anathema, and our Wyld Hunt!"

"What?" Drogath is wide-eyed, sputtering. "I-I came here with Forivas! If I sought to kill him... which I certainly do not!... then why do it here?"

"Why here? You thought to strike fear into the very satraps of this city, no doubt. But you overreached. You are caught, skin-stealer!"

"N-no!"

Tuoni knows that Tuchet's accusation is false. He barely saw it, just a glimpse, but Drogath was not the Cathak who touched him first, nor the one who brushed that same spot on Wirric's left hand where the veins have now turned green-black with uncanny venom. It was Cathak Sijip, Tuchet's co-satrap, who was Wic's true assailant. And now she seeks to blend innocently back into the crowd.

So, a few things are happening here. First off, I've decided to reward pfm's astonishing roll by giving it a two-point stunt bonus, letting Tuoni catch Sijip's attack.

Sijip is attempting to go into stealth using Alehouse Memory Stance from White Veil, but since Tuoni spotted her attack, she is affected by the penalty for trying to establish stealth in combat. Everyone is welcome to make a Perception + Awareness roll to oppose this stealth attempt.
Manipulation + Stealth + Guile - 3:
[roll0]
Tuchet is using Tarnished Silver Imprecation, Secret Devil's Presence, and 2m Excellency to accuse Drogath of being a shapeshifting imposter. The mechanics here are a little tricky:

First Tuchet and Drogath are going to make opposing rolls, Tuchet's Manipulation + Performance + Excellency vs Drogath's Charisma + Presence. Drogath's going to use 4m on the Presence Excellency, giving him 2 auto-successes and letting him roll bonus dice for each 10, but Tuchet gets to reroll a failed die for each of Drogath's 1s.

If Tuchet's roll beats Drogath's, then Tuchet's threshold successes will be treated as an Instill roll against everyone present to create a Tie of Suspicion toward Drogath, and additionally, if the Instill succeeds, as a Persuade roll encouraging everyone to spread the accusation. I'm going to say that Tuoni will automatically resist, however, since he saw the true culprit, and also that anyone spending Willpower to resist the Instill will not be affected by the Persuade, meaning none of the PCs will need more than 1 WP to shut this down even if it gets past their Intimacy-boosted Resolve.
Tuchet: [roll1]
Drogath: [roll2] + 2 successes

Drogath's potential bonus dice: [roll3]
Tuchet's potential rerolls: [roll4]
Wic is up next in order, though his rolled actions are still at a -5 from the poison penalty. Aloru is after him, then it'll be back to the players with Tuoni's turn.
The Self-Evident Blessing:

"...you've an ally watching the Penitent?" Wokish pales a touch, and he cannot conceal his surprise. This other ally of Leaf's, whoever they might be, is someone he did not factor into his calculations. "Go to them, then, by all means, and urge them caution. I remind you again that this is a delicate situation."

Wokish is earnest and anxious; Leaf's cooperation seems to mean a great deal to him. But does that matter to her?

Persuade roll to try to convince Leaf to share his message of caution with Skymoth, spending 2m Excellency to lower the roll's target number. If Leaf doesn't have at least a minor Intimacy to support this, it'll whiff automatically; I leave that up to your discretion, Sticks.
[roll5], TN 5
Skymoth and Brown Leaf:
Skymoth is ahead of everybody else in the timeline, probably a good bit ahead, but the group he's following has been moving pretty slowly. Sticks, if you'd like, and if Brown Leaf would go up the Penitent after Skymoth to try to join back up with him, I could set up an Athletics roll or two to see if Leaf can speed-hike or climb the Penitent's torso fast enough to catch up with Skymoth and the Mendicant's group at the moment where we left them. Honestly, she could probably have overtaken them sooner, but that would require messy retcons, so we're going to not do that.

How does that sound?

Inspector Valin

2020-04-28, 06:15 PM

"ohbyallthegods SHUT UP, TUCHET!"

It's a mark of how much pain Wirric is in that he loses his temper so badly. He's got no more room for composure left. But he manages a smile for Drogath before turning back to the Satrap with a snarl. "I walked through hell for this man. Shed blood for him. I know that this is Cathak Drogath. Just as there stands Tuoni of the Linowan. And there is Kelam, greatest blade of the West. And that this is... Captain Slang."

Gods above, if ever there was a sign he did not deserve the Captain's friendship, this is it. They're right here, with him at the end of his days. Wirric tries to give Slang a reassuring, confident grin; tries to not look worried or pained. They'll get through this. They always do. But as he slowly raises his newly reclaimed cane, the effort it takes him is noticeable. His hand is blackened now, the act of lifting it near excruciating. The sorcerer is shaking, sweating, fighting through the pain to maintain the essence flow, feel the mudra in the stone beneath.

Two hands as one bring Lusus down, the clack of metal against stone sounding across the party grounds. Around Forivas and Slang a circle of fire rises, high and proud. Amidst the dancing flames, Wic looks up at Slang for a long, greatful moment before turning to fix Tuchet the Truculent with a withering glare. "Don't try and make me doubt the people I care about, my lord. I'm not so easy to fool."

Not sure what I have to roll. Damage from the poison? In action terms, Wic's activating Burning Judgement Halo - saving a space for Slang. 5m personal, 4i. He'll dismiss it as soon as Slang's ready to leave.

Ascension

2020-04-28, 10:38 PM

The Dinner Party:

"Can we satraps fight now, Sijip?" Aloru asks, cracking his knuckles audibly. He sounds even more enthusiastic for violence now than he did when "Forivas" declared a Wyld Hunt, and his voice sounds rougher, his accent less polished, with the inflection on 'now' slipping into its customary Low Realm pronunciation rather than the elevated High Realm pronunciation. Anyone who hasn't lost sight of Sijip in the crowd might see her wince, slightly.

Aloru turns and catches Drogath in the side of the head... the one part of his body not protected by the artifact plate he's wearing... with a hard right hook. The Fire Aspect collapses, blood streaming from his temple, and as Aloru draws his hand back from the punch, you can see that a sharp set of white jade blades has slid out from between his knuckles, where they were previously cunningly concealed by his glove.

Aloru laughs cruelly and raises his hand again, but Kelam interposes her sword... still sheathed, but still threatening... between him and Drogath's crumpled body.

"Please back off, Satrap Aloru," she warns.

"Taking the side of the Anathema, are you?" he sneers, turning on her.

"Does he look like a 'dangerous Anathema' now?" she shouts back at him. "His guilt is far from proven, and any threat he may have posed is neutralized. Back off."

"The animal may just be playing dead," Aloru snarls. "Best to make certain."

Kelam does not budge, and her eyes sharpen as she readies herself to confront any further threat to Drogath from any quarter.

For the moment, the villa guards still keep their distance, but you can see they're forming up to interpose themselves between the party guests and the nearest exit, and you can hear a cry go up for reinforcements.

Aloru made a Withering attack on Drogath using Knockout Blow and 5m Excellency. It was reduced to minimum damage dice by Drogath's soak, but did just enough damage to Crash Drogath, knocking him unconscious.

The next tick, on her turn, Kelam declares a Defend Other on Drogath. The guards' shift in formation will impose Difficult Terrain on anyone trying to move toward the nearest exit.

Tuoni acts simultaneously with Kelam and the guards' actions.

Oh, also, here's Kelam's roll against Sijip's attempt to go into stealth. She's activating Superior Sight Focus to give her automatic successes on sight-based Awareness rolls.
[roll0]+3 successes

Sticks

2020-04-28, 11:04 PM

Brown Leaf's caste mark winks out, her essence remains coiled tight in her body, ready to spring out when needed. She has the feeling it is needed urgently, now. All that can be seen in the weak light around the doorway are her eyes reflecting the slivers of illumination.

"I appreciate yer concern, Wokish, but I ain't scared fer my friend. He done knows what he's doin' an' I ain't about t' risk blowin' his cover. That said, I 'spect th' five at th' dinner would be mighty innerested t' hear what I've learned from ya. If'n you'll excuse me, this humble monk has t' go an' beg pardon at the doors of th' mighty."

With that, she crosses to the doors, throws them open and is off, rolled diagrams under an arm. 'Wait for the wind on Paisap's finger, and Mela will provide'. So says the proverb.

Yeah, think that was a wiff. Leaf figures if Skymoth is in over his head, she'll know soon enough. She's also confident she can be up the mountain faster than anyone who could stop her, so she's going to get the rest of the circle first.

pfm1995

2020-04-30, 12:07 AM

The press of the party guests, gathered to watch the screaming, is almost suffocating as Cathak Sijip glides through them, deftly turning aside limbs and their owners with soft touches and nudges, never quite disturbing the flock enough to be noticed. It's masterfully done, but as she turns about from frowning at "Aloru's" vulgar display she's forced to stop short. In front of her, bare inches away, stands the white-masked Linowan shaman.

Tuoni stood there, mute, and just studied the Cathak satrap for a moment. Old, and with a warrior's bearing but a poisoner's attitude, apparently - what is it about these Dynasts that has them consistently confirming to his lowest expectations? "Perhaps..." he mulled, "it's been too long since she's been scarred." The Empress, he was slowly coming to believe, had done all her descendants a disservice. They'd been coddled kept from ever scraping their knees or putting hand to fire and had never learned that there was a cost to actions like these. Was this woman really so arrogant as to think that she could do this without consequence?

Wirric's pained, maniacal laughter echoed off the fluted columns, and Tuoni knew that it would take a minor miracle for this building to still be standing come dawn. He would see to that.

"I believe," he said, his eyeless face never leaving Sijip's own, "we are owed an explanation. You will hand over any antidote you may have. You will assist the Captain with treating this poison. And then you will tell us what the so-called Chosen of the Stars promised you, to make this anything more than a particularly elaborate suicide."

Alright, time to roll very few dice! This is an intimidate action, trying to convince Sijip to do, well, all of the above. Hopefully Tuoni having spotted her helps to rattle her a bit, and even better if there's an intimacy lurking about involving her fears at what she may have gotten herself into with this. Then again, it's not like she really needed an excuse beyond 'Anathema!'

Anyway, in order to move through the crowd like that Tuoni will also reflexively be activating White Reaper form - I think he meets the requirement of there being three non-trivial opponents given the three satraps. All motes from his Personal pool.

No charms here, and I have a feeling I'll be needing my WP later. I'm throwing on a few bonus dice for Hideous, his base pool is Charisma (2) + Presence (0)
[roll0]

Ascension

2020-05-01, 11:45 PM

Cathak Sijip, or whoever wears her face, is disciplined. She responds to Tuoni's sudden accusation with only the aggrieved shock a genuine satrap might respond with.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, barbarian, but you will soon regret taking that tone with a satrap of the Realm," she counter-threatens.

Tuoni's words are not as compelling as his staff, I'm afraid. Since I went ahead and posted for Kelam and the villa guards ahead of pfm, Slang is up next, then I'll take us on into the next round with several consecutive NPC actions.

Malozing

2020-05-02, 10:20 PM

With their hand still atop of Wirric's, Slang could feel the heat, unrelated to Wic's spell, rolling off of the Twilight's skin. Rubbing their thumb across Wic's skin, Slang takes a moment to study the symptoms, and they transfer a single mote of energy into Wic. The tiny bit of essence attaches itself to a droplet of the venom and flags as the cause of the man's ailment.

Slang curses and begins to dig around their pouches for supplies.

Spending a single mote for Flawless Diagnosis Technique. I don't like the idea of a penalty while I am possibly still under Sticks' dice luck.

Ascension

2020-05-03, 12:01 AM

The Dinner Party:

Were Slang from any other corner of Creation, they might not recognize the toxin that afflicts Wic, but they have long sailed the same seas as the dreaded Lintha pirates, and where the Lintha sail, the supernaturally potent Yozi venom brewed in Malfeas is all too commonplace. They know it works its course in a matter of minutes, and that a single dose of the venom can be enough to kill. If they weren't here, if they hadn't come to dinner with Drogath... best not to think about that. What matters is that they know what they're dealing with, and they should be able to fashion a treatment for it. Should.

The party guests mill about nervously, unsure if the threat was ended with Drogath being knocked out, or if some further menace, or further conflict, might emerge. Like Drogath's companions... one is defying Satrap Aloru, another threatening Satrap Sijip... Could it be that they're all compromised? At this point, any further shock is likely to send them all into panic.

And that's end of round! Everyone regenerates 5m. Though NPCs are currently at the top of the Initiative order, I'm going to wait for Sticks to roll Join Battle for Leaf before proceeding, since it's possible she gets a high JB roll and changes the order of actions.
The Penitent:

The monk closes her eyes and takes a deep breath to center herself, but even after she's finished she still looks like she's just got done sniffing curdled milk.

"The guards and I will see how far we can help him climb, but I ask that you please travel ahead of us and communicate my displeasure to your employer. Please implore them to see reason."

The big man frowns, but it's clear he doesn't really want to be the one arguing on either party's behalf. This isn't his fight; he's just ended up as the middle man.

"I'll pass that along. No promises, though."

It's a tight squeeze for the big guy getting back up the narrow stairway, but once he's reached the arm forest proper, he goes bounding off, running in great loping strides. The terrain keeps him from reaching the speeds he might on a more even surface, but Luna moths aren't the fastest fliers in the insect kingdom, either. Skymoth would have to go full tilt to try to keep pace with the man. The Mendicant and his escort, meanwhile, resume their gradual pace.

Will Skymoth continue to stick with the Mendicant, or will he rush after the big man, who's racing off to meet with whoever it is who's calling the shots in this operation?

Skymoth can continue following the Mendicant without the need for rolls, but chasing Demetheus will either initiate a series of Athletics (or Fly, given the moth statblock) rolls to try to keep pace with him, or Perception + Survival (or Senses) rolls to track him if Skymoth falls behind.

Sticks

2020-05-03, 12:54 AM

Brown Leaf takes a little while to make it out of the temple complex. She sets a stick of incense burning at a shrine for health, and another at the Hall of Dragons before the mon of House Peleps. She only knows the one member of that illustrious family, but she figures any prayers should be directed to him through his bloodline. Dragonblooded like that sort of thing, anyway.

The monk makes her way towards the Satraps' villa, following the wide well-worn roads between orchards and residences. Before too long she sees the buildings...and hears the commotion. "Mela flyin' skirts, what's happened now!?"

Bowling past the startled guards, ducking easily under arms and spears half-raised to ward off intruders, she shoots through the grounds, following the shouts, clattering and...smell of firedust. Where she is confronted, Leaf yells "Out of my way! Exalt business, do not interfere!" Such is her conviction that she is not stopped, though the curious do peer after her with alarm.

Reaching the grounds where everyone is gathered, Leaf stops and analyzes the scene before her. Drogath is down, there's a fire in the middle, guards all around. Kelam and Tuoni are warding off two individuals who appear to be spoiling for a fight...or are they? They were dining with the satraps, weren't they? Did they fight the satraps? What...It dawns on her. Wokish was not whom he appeared to be, the Mendicant was not whom he appeared to be, there was a powerful elemental, Swan's daughter, moving about the penitent right now and nobody was making a fuss, so she must be disguised too. The Hortatum themself wore many faces, and wanted...wanted to keep meddling exalts out of the way. This was a diversion, or perhaps a direct attack to divert attention from their plan. They must be moving now...while Wokish was busy with her. She was a distraction, this was a distraction. This fight needed to end now, they needed to find the Mendicant, get Skymoth, get everyone together and finish this quest. With the south saved, perhaps she could start fixing this broken world before it tore itself apart again...

Whoo, sorry that was wordy. I figured this would be a good place for Leaf to start putting together the plot, or at least what she thinks is the plot from her perspective. Spending 4 motes from peripheral on Her awareness excellency to enhance JB.
Wits+Awareness+Stunt+Excellency(4)
[roll0] +3

Eurus

2020-05-03, 03:04 PM

For an instant, Skymoth wants to pursue Demetheus. His blood always rises at a challenge, and the man moves far too well to be mortal, so it would even be something of a fair one.

It's the sight of the Mendicant that gives him pause. The uncomfortable sense of foreboding that this whole exchange has given him, a sense that he suspects the Mendicant's escort shares, sneaks into his awareness again. Chasing off after the leaving man might let him learn something, true. But... well.

Contrary to popular belief, there are old Brides among Ahlat's beloved. Not many, true; the lifestyle is harsh, and dying young isn't uncommon, but they aren't heartless Northerners, to abandon their elders to the elements or expect them to chase an honorable suicide. Shining Glade was the oldest by far, when Skymoth was still in training. The woman's limbs were almost skeletal, her eyes cloudy, and her memory faded in and out some days. But she had been a warrior through and through, and nobody treated her with anything less than deep respect. Most afternoons, you could see Shining Glade bundled up in her chair, someone sitting in front of her listening to her stories or telling their own... when she died, Ahlat himself went into mourning for seven days, and the Fane of Upswept Horns was kept in silence.

There's more to honor than chasing down every foe who looks tough, and honoring his elders goes bone deep into Skymoth. He doesn't even know this man, but something about him -- and about his descendent's respect for him -- suggests a depth that isn't obvious, and in the end Skymoth decides that he'll follow this pair for now and make sure no harm comes to the old man.

Ascension

2020-05-03, 09:00 PM

"If you won't get out of my way, then I'll move you!" Aloru growls, throwing a forceful uppercut at Kelam. She swings her sheathed sword up in an eyeblink, and a loud crack thunders through the garden as her counter-stroke sends the deadly blades of the satrap's razor claws off course.

"Let the record show, you threw the first punch," she says, cold and calm in her determination.

Meanwhile, Brown Leaf's gotten within the walls of the villa, but a cordon of guards quickly interposes themselves between her and her friends. If she wants to get into the thick of the garden party before it completely dissolves into a melee, she'll either have to go through them... or over them.

Brown Leaf, Sijip, and Tuchet are up on the same Initiative count, but I'll let Sticks declare Leaf's action first. The guards are presently a Size 1 Battle Group, so moving through them would require two reflexive move actions, since they count as Difficult Terrain, but since they're only Size 1, I'll allow a Monkey Leap to carry Leaf over them in a single bound, allowing her to both get past them and take another action. If she jumps them, she could land in Close Range of Aloru, Kelam, Tuchet, and the guards' battle group, with Slang and Wic at Short and Sijip and Tuoni at Short but on the other side of the Background Guests' "battle group." If she just moves into the middle of the guards... well, then she'll be in the middle of the guards.

Sticks

2020-05-03, 10:45 PM

"Okay, have it yer way then." Brown Leaf's tone is exasperated, but she grins. If this doesn't get folks attention up on the veranda...well there's probably a lot she can do that would get more attention than she wants, but this will do for now.

Charging into the satrap's guards, Brown Leaf lays into them. A sweeping kick sends armored behinds clattering onto the steps, a scything arm (fingers closed to not utilize her essence-claws directly) batters weapons and helmets aside. Brown Leaf is a desert tempest among thin trees, and her furious assault will not be endured for long. She shouts over the hubbub to her companions. "Hey! I got news! Looks like them 'nathema we're huntin' been replacin' important folks in th' Lap fer a while! Though I 'spect ya'll figured that out already!"

Brown Leaf is making a Withering attack against the battlegroup, adding 4m for her MA Excellency.
Base 14+Stunt+Excellency(4)
Attack:[roll0]
Damage: (Base 10) [roll1]

Ascension

2020-05-04, 04:05 AM

The Dinner Party:

Brown Leaf bursts on the scene in a flurry of violence, simply flattening the guards standing between her and her comrades. A scarce handful keep their feet, circling her, swords drawn and ready, but the greater portion are sprawled unceremoniously across the ground, groaning from their varied aches and injuries. If there was any doubt about whether Forivas's poisoning, Kelam's altercation with Aloru, and Tuoni's accusation toward Sijip were going to boil over into an unconstrained melee, that doubt has now been banished from everyone's minds. This is a fight now.

"Pah! Trying to deflect suspicion from yourselves?" Tuchet challenges Leaf. "You're the criminal attacking a satrap's personal guard!"

As the satrap says that, though, as he approaches the newly-arrived interloper, he drops into a rhythmic, shuffling stance, feinting this way and that with dance-like footwork. Very few in the Lap have ever seen Peleps Tuchet fight in personal combat, but... is that truly his style? It looks like no martial art commonly practiced among Dynasts of the Realm.

The guests caught in the midst of the unfolding chaos babble their confusion and dismay.

Peleps Tuchet is using his action to enter Swaying Grass Dance Form.
Meanwhile, Cathak Sijip glares into Tuoni's impassive, masked face.

"You and your friends need to calm down," she insists, her tone half imperious and half motherly.

Her hand darts out to grasp Tuoni's wrist, and... have her fingernails always been so sharp?

Sijip is using Flexing the Emerald Claw and 2m of Dex Excellency (paid from Personal) on a Decisive attack against Tuoni. If it hits, Tuoni will also need to roll Stamina + Resistance against poison.
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
The Penitent:

The arm forest is a very different environment than the trails which came before. There is soil underfoot, rather than stone, sand, or scree. Not merely soil, though: the sediment that has collected here atop the statue-mountain's great folded arms is just as blessed with preturnatural fertility as are the Verdant Triangle and the lands surrounding the Penitent, but, unlike those fields and orchards, is not regularly tended by a gardener's hand. The trees and underbrush grow thick and wild, and the guardsmen's blades soon turn to the work of clearing a path through brambles and thickets.

At the monk's direction, the group presses toward the Penitent's hands, folded at the center of the statue's expansive chest, rather than towards the mountain's elbows, where they would have an easier path if they meant to climb to the shoulders or higher. The monk, it seems, is still set on taking her charge to the Penitent's heart chakra, rather than its third eye chakra. Between the sheer scale of the Penitent and the density of the arm forests' vegetation, even that trip, half the length of one of the great statue's forearms, is a serious undertaking, particularly for a man in the Mendicant's condition. Skymoth notes, however, that the old eccentric seems no weaker now than he had back in the Lap Proper, despite having climbed halfway up a mountain. His pace is still slow, his steps wandering, but he shows fewer signs of fatigue than the city guard do.

Before Skymoth can study the Mendicant's condition any further than that, though, a low growl emanates from the darkness of the brush-choked forest. Vegetation is not the only thing that grows here. The guardsmen tense, and they tighten their cordon around their charges, weapons pointed outward into the gloom. The monk looks around herself, as if assessing the quality of the men standing between her and the source of the growl, and then assumes a martial artist's stance herself.

Will Skymoth proactively investigate the noise, or wait for its source to show itself?

Eurus

2020-05-04, 10:52 AM

Another decision point, but this one is easier. In moth form, Skymoth feels like he can safely check on whatever's in there. Maybe he's a little overconfident, in fact... He darts between the bushes and growth, trying to lay eyes on this beast.

pfm1995

2020-05-04, 10:46 PM

"No."

Tuoni's hand flicks out, catching Cathak Sijip's wrist and guiding it gently across her body and over his shoulder. The gentleness doesn't last - Tuoni *knows* that move. He's seen it before, had it etched into his memory. The last time he'd felt its bite had been the last fight he'd lost.

Block, 4m excellency (from Personal) and if necessary Tuoni will spend a further 2m on Flickering Corona Barrier. Total block: 8 (+1), since he's stunted as not using his staff.

pfm1995

2020-05-04, 10:58 PM

Suddenly, violently, Tuoni steps forwards and shoves the satrap bodily backwards, pitting the strength of her body against his. "This is not a fight you can win. I recognize that style. I fought one you'd term 'Anathema' who'd mastered it and other's besides, and though I did not win neither did her poison kill me. Do you imagine yours better? In my time I have fought all manner of creatures - fey, dynasts, 'anathema' - and even stood against the wrath of a dragon in truth. I am perhaps the least of my companions. This is a fight you have already lost."

Spending 3m on Empowering Justice Redirection (from Personal) and 4m on the PA excellency (from Peripheral).
[roll0] + 1
[roll1] + 1 (Base 11)

Ascension

2020-05-05, 11:50 PM

The Dinner Party:

"Oh!" Cathak Sijip bends gracefully away from Tuoni's shove, moving with it, carrying the force it imparts into an elegant dancer's twirl. When she spins to face Tuoni again, she wears a wicked smile.

"You've fought my Ivory Knife?" she asks, with venomous good cheer. "You do have an impressive pedigree..."

She steps back toward Tuoni, leaning in close to whisper, "But did she never think to warn you about her master?"

"Hah!" Kelam lets loose a kiai as her sword sweeps out, flowing from a high window guard position into a horizontal slashing attack in less than an eyeblink's time. Aloru interposes his left forearm between her striking blade and the generous target that is his torso, but he doesn't manage to get braced properly before her blow hits, catching him near the wrist and driving his own arm into his gut.

Aloru's eyes widen as he backpedals, gasping to regain his air. This is no pampered fool he's facing, this is a foe who is fully capable of fighting on his level. And she is not done for more than a moment; her sword remains in motion, ready to transition into another attack or defense in an instant, with the same fluid violence seen in her last stroke.

Kelam is spending the WP to extend Liquid Steel Flow until her next Decisive attack.
Meanwhile, the villa guards' reinforcements pile in behind Leaf, emboldening the few from the initial squad who withstood her initial rampage. They are deaf to the accusations she levels against the satraps; they know simply that they have been attacked, and they are bent on retaliation. Together, the survivors and the second wave press in around Leaf, striking at her with an aesthetically pleasing but non-uniform blend of Realm jians and Southern scimitars. They are not, however, merely ornamental soldiers - Cathak Sijip is, or was, a veteran of the legions, and while her personal guard may be a more variegated troupe, they are not lacking in ability or conviction.

The reinforcements bring the guard battle group up to Size 2, but do not restore the magnitude damage inflicted by Leaf's earlier attack. It should be fairly easy to knock them back down to Size 1. For now, they make a withering attack on Brown Leaf.
Attack: [roll0]
Damage (base 14, minimum 2): [roll1]
The Penitent:
Sorry, I should've said this sooner, but I'm going to ask for a Perception + Awareness (Senses) roll to locate the source of the growl. Moth senses are 7, but you can use your own pool if higher, and you're subject to normal caps on bonus dice if your own pool is lower. I'm going to roll the creature's stealth below, but the usual opposed roll courtesy asks that you declare any bonuses to your roll before reading its roll:
Stealth: [roll2](double 9s)

Ascension

2020-05-06, 04:07 PM

The Penitent:

...that's strange. Even with a moth's sensitivity to pheromones, even with a jolt of essence sharpening his senses, Skymoth can't detect any creature out in the underbrush that would be large enough to produce a growl like the one he heard. But then...

Then the underbrush itself moves. What lunges out of the forest is a beast like a great hunting cat, but where a proud lion might have a mane, this creatures has gnarled branches bristling with green leaves. It strikes with great paws furred with foliage and clawed with thorns larger than knives.

The municipal guardsmen, trained to deal with rabble-rousing farmers and the occasional criminal gang or heretical cult, are completely unprepared for the brush-lion. Its initial pounce carries it over the wall of their shields; it is in amongst them before they can react, its weight crushing guards to the ground, its claws tearing red rents through their armor. Some of the weary, outmatched soldiers flee, most fall. Only a pair of guards are still standing firm by the time the brush-lion slows to consider consuming some of its kill, sheltering the wild-eyed Mendicant beneath their shields.

The tall monk, for her part, looks more annoyed than affrighted or aggrieved by the onslaught.

"Stay back," she urges the remaining guards, "Keep him safe, if you can. I'll handle this."

You're free to roll JB for Skymoth if you're interested in potentially intervening, Eurus, but if you'd rather simply observe the carnage, that's a valid option.

Sticks

2020-05-06, 10:02 PM

Brown Leaf grins as her tattooed palms deflect blade after blade. Fingers catch and twist jians, scimitars are bent against their curve, straightening the blades to resemble misshapen jians. Yes, it's flashy, but it gets her point across. These veteran soldiers may be skilled, but they are outmatched. They should fall back, lest the monk be forced to get serious.

Brown Leaf is spending 4m from Peripheral for her MA excellency to boost her parry Defense to 7 (Edit: 8 with stunt). In case that's not enough, she's also activating Celestial Tiger Hide from Personal motes to boost her soak to 12. If she gets a chance to use Strength Increasing Exercise, it will go to 14.

Eurus

2020-05-06, 10:26 PM

Blast. He'd not seen the danger until too late, and a handful of mortals were dead in the blink of an eye. Skymoth is more annoyed with himself than genuinely devastated by this, admittedly; he's no stranger to the chaotic and random nature of death, for those who make a living as guardians and warriors. He's genuinely not sure what to do from here, either. The monk can probably handle this? But then... this might be the best opportunity he has to make a good impression, now that he thinks about it. And if it goes poorly, he's sure he can escape.

Yes, he'll give that a shot. Darting away, Skymoth tries to find a place to transform back to human without being seen so that he can lend his spear to the fight.

Wits 4 + Awareness 3 + Specialty 1 + Stunt 2 + Excellency 4
Spending 4 motes out of Peripheral.

[roll0] +3

Malozing

2020-05-07, 01:46 PM

"Didn't expect to see this one so far from home," Slang mutters under their breath as they set to work. They pull out a vial reddish-brown liquid, a bundle of dried herbs, and a tiny sheathed knife. Setting aside the other items, Slang opens the bundle with one hand and shifts through the various leafy sprigs, delicate flowers, and slivers of roots. They pull out a strip of textured bark about the length and width of their thumb and hold it up to Wic's lips.

"Chew on this." As soon as the willow bark leaves their fingers, Slang reaches for and unsheathes the knife. Green eyes watch the Twilight's jaws work on the willow briefly before turning to Wic's swollen left hand.

Slang gently tucks the injured hand in the crook of their right arm, and with the knife in their left hand, the Tya makes a precise inch long cut along Wic's forearm. Replacing their blade with the bottle of the red-brown liquid, Slang uncorks it, and an earthy, acetous smell wafts around the two Solars. The Tya pours the kelp vinegar onto the fresh cut and allows it to flow down to the blackened hand. The sting of the acid almost feels soothing compared to the burning inferno of the venom.

Once it's emptied, Slang tosses aside the vial and pulls a woody sprig with dark green needle-like leaves and deep blue flowers from their stash of herbs. The Tya bruises the leaves and presses the sprig into the cut.

As they hold the rosemary in place, Slang pulls a small jar out of a belt pouch. Uncapping it, the Tya dips their fingers into the pale golden-brown paste and plasters it over the rosemary and the cut. With each swipe of their fingers, Slang imbues their essence into the amaltas paste.

The painful burning sensation of the venom soon subsides for Wic, and a pleasant cool feeling begins to spread from his forearm. Slang wipes their hands off on the leg of their pants before pulling out Serpent-sting. They drop into a protective stance in front of Wic with the black jade weapon at the ready.

Okay, I shouldn't have followed the medicinal plants' rabbit hole, but the post is written!

Spending 5m and 1wp for Instant Treatment Methodology and 7m for excellencies from Slang's personal mote pool. That makes 14 dice + 2 stunt.

I am burning sage and doing all my rituals in an effort to banish Sticks' luck from my e-dice.

[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]

Ascension

2020-05-10, 02:26 PM

The Dinner Party:

The gold-brown plaster over the incision Slang made quickly turns dark as green-black venom wells up out of Wic's blood. Tainted blood saturates the paste, and a single bead of excess bile wells up and falls. The droplet makes an audible sizzling sound as it makes contact with the smoothed stone of the garden path underfoot.

Wic feels no more pain, precisely, but the cooling numbness of Slang's treatment is almost equally crippling. He can hardly feel any sensation from his left hand at all, and any attempted movements of his fingers come out stiff and uncoordinated. His whole left arm is weak, and making any larger motions sends his head spinning with a painless but disorienting rush of vertigo. He can't fight properly in this state, can't wield Lusus properly in this state.

Still, he knows somehow, on a deep, instinctual level, that Slang has just saved his life. He may not be entirely in the clear yet, but he will be. The poison remaining in his system has lost the sting of death.

Meanwhile, the remaining guests' fright finally boils over into panic. Rather than lashing out - with the way things are going, they're not entirely sure who to lash out at, they begin to run, scattering in every direction, seeking hiding places in the Cathak compound.

As discussed in the Discord, five intervals of Wic's poisoning were healed. One interval has elapsed, and it dealt no Lethal damage to Wic's health track. The Background Guests battle group breaks and disperses, and Wic is now up to act. After him, we'll be back at the top of the order with Kelam.
The Penitent:

Skymoth is up first, actually. You can regain 5m from the end of the first battle round (in which the brush-lion pounced), and then you can give me... Flurried Establish Stealth and Shapeshift to hide and shapeshift out of sight? You'll face both the penalty for establishing stealth in combat (-3) and the Flurry penalty (-3), but I'll let you still benefit from Miniscule Size's penalty to Awareness rolls (-3 successes), since you're still bug-sized when you're ducking into cover. Does that seem fair-ish?

Guards: [roll0]-3 successes
Monk: [roll1]-3 successes

Eurus

2020-05-10, 02:36 PM

Small it might be, but Skymoth's spirit shape is quick and elusive. It's hard for him to tell exactly who might be looking at him and whether he's out of sight when he's flying so fast, but he hopes that ducking behind a nearby tree will be good enough. As soon as he thinks he's behind something, a subtle glow of light transforms him back into human form, spear and shield at the ready.

Moth's stealth pool is 7, +2 stunt, -6 from flurry/combat. We're doing this, man.
[roll0]

Personal motes: 17/17
Peripheral motes: 23/42
Willpower: 4/6

Inspector Valin

2020-05-12, 06:49 PM

It feels like the northern wind has claimed his arm. The cut, the burning, it's all receded. For a second, closing his eyes, Wirric can picture himself back upon the parapet of Whitewall, looking out across the frozen north. He chuckles, ever so quietly to himself at the indulgence.

"Thank you, Captain." The words are quiet but deeply felt. Slang will not stop defending him. They saved his life again here. It's almost inexplicable, and Wic's feelings towards the steadfast sailor are growing... harder to put into words. But he is no longer at serious risk now, so his mind must turn away from that and towards 'deal with the assassins'.

And he has a few tricks yet, even if he can barely stand.

Taking a second to steady himself, Wic starts to bring Lusus back and forth, tossing the cane nimbly between his hands. It's something of a bluff - his right side is too numb for fine movement, but he memorized his stance's form katas so many times that even with feeling lost to his arm, he can just about replicate them. And it makes him look ready for a fight. Lusus' head glints merrily, a trail of smoke emanating from its mouth as Wic starts to take in the scene. He takes a second to fill his lungs, before calling through the melee. "Again. Shut up, Tuchet. You three invited us to this dinner. We didn't want to talk to you. Yet we came, I got poisoned, and you all fell upon my companions like a pack of dogs as soon as my guard was down. And you know what?"

Wic's eyes sparkle as he makes his final point. "Even with the fighting underway, I haven't seen one spark of the Dragons' blood from any of you."

The kata finally closes. The ring of fire that surrounds Forivas and Slang flares up briefly, recognizing the display of the Righteous Devil. Wic's eyes dart between the Triumvirs, but his cry goes out to the remnants of the House Guard. "Soldiers! Your Satraps have been replaced by Anathema, or diabolic servants of the same. Stand down, or stand with us. Defend them, and your souls will be in peril in the life to come." With a grin to hide his spinning head, the Solar slowly bows to the assembled enemy combatants. "If my lords would contest that claim, simply lower your weapons and step forward. My anima should provide a fair test, no?" Well, in truth not a perfect one... but with luck a band of tricksters won't be ready to step into the flames. Even a true Fire Aspect would burn before Wic's ignited essence, honestly. But the spectacle for the onlookers is what matters here.

Uuugh. Hate to drain my personal pool more but... Righteous Devil Form from Personal. Throwing on IDT for 2 from peripheral - the Intimidation is to try and browbeat loyalists into the belief that Forivas is the one sure to be loyal Dynast here. After all, he got poisoned! That has to be Anathema stuff, right? Creation Is A Trust is the intimacy I'm tapping today. Hoping to tap the Fear to have any innocents incentivized to rally around a 'safe bet' for loyal to the Realm.

5 Presence + 4 Charisma + 1 Speciality + 2 Stunt + 1 TDS + 3 HPM + 3 IDT + 3 Essence - 5 poison.

[roll0] Intimidation Roll (Persuade: Stand with me to defend the Realm.) +1 autosuccess via IDT.
[roll1] Rerolled 1s via TDS

Ascension

2020-05-13, 05:38 PM

The Penitent:

While the two remaining guards do their best to shield the Mendicant against the threat of the brush-lion, the monk steps up to the beast. Her hands slash out in a rapid-fire barrage of chops (and are those sparks of flame Skymoth can see at the leading edge of her hands, or just a strange trick of the light?), but the uncanny cat leaps and ducks out of the path of every strike. The moment the monk pauses in her assault, the lion tenses and swipes at the monk with a great sweep of its paw. The monk meets the heavy blow with a forearm block, however, and, muscles tensed, she stops the creature cold.

Neither combatant seems capable of gaining an advantage over the other, at least for the moment... but Skymoth should tip the balance.

That's the end of another short combat round. You can regain 5m, and we're back to Skymoth.
The Dinner Party:

The guards are visibly shaken by Forivas's accusations toward their satraps, and Ragara Aloru and Peleps Tuchet both experience a rush of fear as the man laid low by their ally's poison stands again and shouts defiance. Aloru and Tuchet quickly push their fear down with an exertion of will, but they aren't quick enough to keep Wic from spotting their vulnerability. Of the false satraps, only Sijip seems completely unmoved.

The Guards are fully affected by Righteous Devil Form's intimidation. Aloru and Tuchet's Resolves were beaten; they spent Willpower, but Wic can still Reflexively Aim at them. Sijip, with the aid of Grudge-Nursing Resentment, just had too much Resolve.

That ends a combat round, everyone regains 5m. And then...
Kelam strikes Aloru's guard aside with a swift, overpowering stroke.

"You started this fight," she reminds him.

She adjusts her grip and strikes again before Aloru can recover from her first blow. He tries to step out of the arc of her sword, but she catches him on the chin and sends him staggering.

"You brought this on yourself."

Ragara Aloru is crashed, and Kelam is at an absurd Initiative 27.
Brown Leaf doesn't have time to focus on her girlfriend's success. Peleps Tuchet lowers his body and wheels towards her with a spinning step, then spins again, this time thrusting a leg up into a scything kick towards Brown Leaf's torso.

Peleps Tuchet makes a withering attack against Brown Leaf with 4m of Excellency from Peripheral. Brown Leaf is acting on the same tick, so if she attacks him, their attacks will Clash.
Attack: [roll0]
Damage (Base 9, Minimum 1): [roll1] plus 3 automatic Initiative damage if he wins a Clash.

Sticks

2020-05-13, 09:12 PM

Brown Leaf lets out an eager laugh. It's been a while since she's had an even fight. Gods, Dragonbloods, mercenaries, all well and good, but here she has a martial-artist on her level...well, almost on her level. Fending off the blades of the guards, Brown Leaf's hand reaches out and grabs Tuchet's outstretched foot, holding it firm and absorbing the blow. Essence-claws dig into flesh, cutting through the false satrap's fine footwear, but not for long. With a grin, she twists her arm, forcing Tuchet's leg to twist with it. He's balanced enough to move with the twist and avoid having his leg snapped at the knee, but being forced to spin at your enemy's discretion is neither comfortable nor dignified.

Brown Leaf is clashing Tuchet's withering attack with her own withering attack. She is spending 6m from Personal to enhance the roll. DEX+Martial Arts+Specialty+Weapon+stunt+Excellency(6)=23. As Tuchet has already rolled and cannot modify his roll further, I'll just roll here without spoilers. Leaf is also spending a Willpower for an autosuccess.

Attack [roll0] +1
Damage(base 10, min 3) [roll1]

Ascension

2020-05-13, 09:31 PM

Leaf makes it difficult for Tuchet to twist with her the force of her grip, but not impossible. The surprisingly nimble satrap kicks off of the ground with his plant foot and falls back on his hands, cartwheeling to keep the pressure off his knee, and as his body swings through its gravity-assisted rotation, he attempts to wrench his foot free from her grasp, which would allow him to flip away and out of Leaf's reach...

Rolling-with-the-Wind Method! Tuchet attempts to Reflexively Disengage from Leaf in order to reduce the damage of her attack. R-w-t-W is 4m, 1i, the motes paid from Personal. He also uses Instinct-Driven Beast Movement (2m from Personal) to add an automatic success, and an additional 2m from Personal for the Dexterity Excellency.
[roll0]+1 success

Sticks

2020-05-14, 11:40 AM

Brown Leaf sees Tuchet's movement and leans in. He is hobbled, clever, fast, but hobbled. The tiger almost has its jaws on her prey's neck, she just needs to succeed in bringing it down. She grips harder and twists the other way, hard. If her grip holds, the movement will be sickening, painful and lethal, for it will draw Tuchet into her reach again. She releases his foot after the twist. She won't need to hold him if he is brought in now. This was the moment Lou Kahn taught her was most important, when the flow of the hunt was the hunter's to command.

Brown Leaf is spending 4m from Peripheral on her Athletics Excellency. Sadly most of her Tiger Style charms require tiger form to kick in here, so she's making a basic DEX+Athletics+Specialty+Stunt+Excellency roll...that's not very basic is it?

[roll0]

Eurus

2020-05-14, 12:27 PM

Skymoth takes advantage of the focus that the beast and the monk have on each other to come in from an angle. His spear darts a quick jab at the brush-lion's flank, and his shield follows up with a vicious bash. Even if he doesn't connect, the flanking maneuver will make it difficult for the creature to avoid both him and the monk at the same time.

Skymoth takes a quick step back after his attack and grins at the monk, even giving her a roguish wink. Not quite the time, perhaps, but then, if he refrained from flirting every time someone's life was in danger, he'd hardly ever get around to it.

Mote Regen kicks in...Activating Cunning Beast Warrior Reflexes for 2m.

Personal motes: 17/17
Peripheral motes: 26/42
Willpower: 4/6

Withering attack for Dex (5) + Melee (5) + Specialty (1) + Stunt (2) + Accuracy (3) + Flurry (-2)
[roll0]

Base damage is Str (5) + Weapon (12)
[roll1]
And if any extras are required...
[roll2]

Along with the attack, he's flurrying an instill attempt on the monk to try and give her a positive intimacy toward him. He's not picky on whether it's based on attraction or just gratitude.

Appearance (6) + Presence (2) + Stunt (2) + Flurry (-2)
[roll3]

Ascension

2020-05-15, 11:21 PM

The Dinner Party:

Tuchet's attempt at fancy acrobatics just makes things more difficult for him in the end. Brown Leaf yanks him back from his attempted escape, straining his outstretched leg, and as she releases him he nearly stumbles into her arms, entirely off guard, entirely open to her next attack...

Meanwhile, Sijip smiles cruelly at Tuoni.

"That poison wasn't the only trick I taught my dear Knife, of course. Did she ever share this one with you?"

She takes a deep breath, and then suddenly sings a brief passage of an aria (https://youtu.be/YuBeBjqKSGQ?t=59), its quickly rising arpeggio scaling in volume as well as pitch, until it hits a note which transcends humanity, the beauty of her voice transmuting into something terrible, a seabird's cry multiplied a thousand times. Every glass set out for drinks on tables throughout the garden, every bottle of wine or sake, and every ceramic plate set out for appetizers shatter all at once. But the crack and clash and clatter of exploding glassware cannot be heard, nothing can be heard, over Sijip's deathly shriek.

All those closest to Sijip - Tuoni, Slang, Wic, Kelam, and Aloru - feel her screech as a physical force, as a painful reverberation which assails the body as well as the ears.

Sijip uses Resounding Songbird's Cry for 3m, 2i. Tuoni, Slang, and Wic must make Stamina + Resistance rolls at Difficulty 7 against a sonic environmental hazard or they will take 2B Decisive damage. Kelam and Aloru's resistance rolls follow below, and then a seperate spoiler contains prospective damage rolls for each character. Remember, since this is Decisive damage, 10s will not be doubled.

Kelam (+4 Excellency): [roll0]
Aloru: [roll1]

Tuoni: [roll2]
Slang: [roll3]
Wic: [roll4]
Kelam: [roll5]
Aloru: [roll6]
Regardless of the result of everyone's resistance rolls, Tuoni's action will be up next, on the same tick as the guards'. Since the guards are not going to interact with anyone else, their action follows.
The overwhelmed guards, caught between uncannily powerful strangers and satraps who are behaving like strangers themselves - perhaps even insidiously replaced by Anathema as Forivas suggests - make the easiest decision: the decision to flee. It's an orderly retreat, for they do still have their pride, but they quickly extricate themselves from their position surrounding Brown Leaf and Tuchet and begin falling back towards the nearest exit.

The Penitent:

The monk seems unimpressed by Skymoth's attempts at flirtation, but she certainly is surprised as he emerges from the bushes to charge the brush-lion, taking it in the flank and driving it back. The final two guards from the Mendicant's escort are emboldened by the sudden appearance of an unexpected ally, and they themselves rejoin the fight. Their thrusting spears strike home and draw blood from the creature - scarlet red, but thick and sticky, flowing more like sap.

The lion roars in sudden pain, and the monk darts in to strike it with a quick two strike combo, dealing a swift punch followed by an open palm blow with the same hand. Her blows land, driving the big cat back a step, but the flames which spark from her palm fail to catch in the lion's mane, and it is only slightly dazed, not truly injured.

The lion shakes his great shaggy head, regathering its senses, and then it lashes out at the most vulnerable of the foes crowding around it, the same foes who were the first to draw its blood. Its claws swipe away the last two guards' spears, and a lunging bite threatens to put an end to their brief defiance. However, they brace against each other as they raise their shields, and the beast's jaws gnash helplessly at unyielding metal. The last survivors continue to stand and continue to fight.

Regardless of the result of this attack, Skymoth will be up next, and will regain 5m. If even one damage gets through this battle group's soak, however, they're going to be defeated. EDIT: Buuuut the cat hilariously whiffed the attack, so they're fine.

Attack: [roll7]
Damage (base 12): [roll8]

Eurus

2020-05-17, 12:48 PM

Skymoth flinches when the brush-lion, unsurprisingly, aims at the weakest link. Quickly, he shifts around the elemental so that he's closer to the guards, and readies his spear and shield to drive the beast back if it goes for them again. While part of him - the mortal warrior, perhaps - acknowledges the bravery of the guards, another part of him, the self-centered silvery demigod, is just annoyed that protecting these men is going to get in the way of his flirting. Irritated, he stabs at the brush-lion again!

Mote Regen kicks in...Activating Cunning Beast Warrior Reflexes again for 2m.

Personal motes: 17/17
Peripheral motes: 29/42
Willpower: 4/6

Withering attack for Dex (5) + Melee (5) + Specialty (1) + Stunt (2) + Accuracy (3) + Flurry (-2)
[roll0]

Base damage is Str (5) + Weapon (12)
[roll1]
[roll2]

This time he's flurrying a Defend Other action on the guards.

pfm1995

2020-05-17, 01:53 PM

Tuoni flinches backwards as Cathak Sijip begins to sing, remembering the power of Ivory Knife's voice, but then watches in confusion as no forceful blow hits him. Instead, the glass still in his hand begins to shake.

He has only a moment. As his mask shudders on his face and he feels the first trickle of blood come from his ears, he flips his cup up in the air and whirls, extending a leg and roundhouse-kicking it towards the satrap.

Two feet away from her face, it shatters. The scalding-hot tea inside, though, doesn't - momentum keeps it moving and it showers all over the false-satrap and her fancy clothes. Tuoni follows close behind, not willing to give Sijip an inch of space to collect herself even if it means brute-forcing his way through a wall of sound that leaves his ears numb and his bones aching.

No charms on the Stamina + Resistance roll. Using Bleeding Crescent Strike (5m, Personal), Greatest Killer Attitude (3m, 1wp, Personal), and a 4m-excellency (Peripheral) on the Withering attack with the tea.

Stamina + Resistance: [roll0]
Withering Attack: [roll1] (Up to four 9s are doubled)
Withering Damage: [roll2] (Base 10, overwhelming 1, four dice of post-soak damage become automatic successes)

Malozing

2020-05-17, 02:36 PM

Slang never had Knife's voice directed at them, but they are not unfamiliar with this kind of attack and the pain it can bring. The Tya braces for the pain as best they could as they stood defensively in front of Wic.

Spending 4m on excellencies to get the dice pool up to my lucky number.

Stamina 3 + Resistance 4 + Stunt 2 + Excellencies 4= 13 dice

[roll0]

Ascension

2020-05-17, 11:52 PM

The Dinner Party:

As Tuoni presses through Sijip's wall of sound, as he whirls to attack her, for a moment, for just one fatal moment, he makes eye contact with her. And there, on her face, is the same feigned innocence, the same affrighted victimhood, the shaman saw so often on Ivory Knife's face as he dueled with her underneath Lupo's incisive gaze. He knows, through that bitter experience, that it is a ruse, and, moreover, the role "Sijip" plays is less conducive to the ploy. Cathak Sijip has a veteran soldier's bearing, and she wears the Black Claw's vulnerability like an ill-fitting dress, binding and bulging in all the wrong places.

But he faces the master now, and not the student. "Sijip" adjusts to her body's miscasting, and to her challenging audience. She presents a pantomime of pitiability, a broad parody of Ivory Knife's seeming-sincerity - and that is the trap. She allows Tuoni to think he's seen through her slipshod facade, to think he's seen past her feigned vulnerability to a true weak point in her defense... only to reveal that that weakness, too, was a bluff, a mask beneath her mask.

To any onlooker it seems an impossible fluke as Cathak Sijip, so clearly open to Tuoni's assault, twirls out of the way of each splash of tea, each ceramic shard, each physical blow, but Tuoni can see... moments too late, but he can see... that she isn't merely lucky, she is phenomenally skilled. And Tuoni, too, is the only one to see her wicked smile.

There is injury, too, in this insult. As the adrenaline spike from his surge of violence fades, Tuoni realizes that his body has taken the full brunt of Sijip's shriek. The pain is bearable, but it is pain, nonetheless, enough to slow his movements, if only by a fraction.

Tuoni and Aloru fail against the environmental hazard (Tuoni taking 2B damage, Aloru getting lucky), while Kelam and Slang both succeed in resisting it. We can... probably assume Wic fails, but he will also take no health track damage.

Slang is up! And doesn't have to worry about fixing up Wic! All three of the false satraps are at Short range from them, reachable with a normal reflexive move. Wic can create an opening in his Burning Judgment Halo in whichever direction they travel, if they want to join one of the fights.
The Penitent:

Despite having experienced another close brush with death, the mortal guards are emboldened by their continued survival. Their spears lash out again, and again strike true against the wounded brush-lion. Their points drive deeper, and more of the beast's thick, sticky blood wells to the surface. The monk thrusts her fingers into the opened wounds and rakes into the beast's flesh, tearing the gashes open wider. The big cat howls and thrashes, its paws clawing against earth now rather than flesh, trying to wrench free from its assailants, desperate for escape.

The brush-lion is attempting to Disengage from Skymoth and the monk. It is at a -2 wound penalty.

[roll0]
Monk's opposing roll:[roll1]

Eurus

2020-05-18, 02:01 PM

As the brush-lion starts to thrash, Skymoth takes a slow breath and sinks into his training. This is the part where the warrior overcomes the beast. In its retreat, the beast will expose itself, and his spear will be ready. He steps in, shield high, spear low, and puts his whole weight into a thrust, knowing that there will be no need for a follow-up if this connects.

Mote Regen kicks in.
Personal motes: 17/17
Peripheral motes: 34/42
Willpower: 4/6

Oppose disengage:
Dex (5) + Athletics (4) + Stunt (2)
[roll0]

If I succeed... attack!
Dex (5) + Melee (5) + Specialty (1) + Stunt (2)
[roll1]

Decisive Damage:
[roll2]

Malozing

2020-05-19, 09:42 PM

Slang rolls their shoulders after the wave of sound rushes over them and glances back at Wic. Though the poison has weakened him Slang knows Wic is relatively safe within his circle of fire. Tuoni, however, looks like he could use some help fighting 'Sijip.' The Tya nods their head towards the false Dragon, signaling to Wic their intentions.

As the flames shift, Slang bolts toward Sijip. Serpent-sting dances within the Tya's hands like a snake anticipating its first meal.

Within a blink of an eye, the sharpened end of the staff strikes the false satrap just below her ribs.

Okay, going to add on 4m to round boost the dice pool to 18.
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

Ascension

2020-05-22, 03:39 PM

The Dinner Party:

Sijip turns to face Slang as they streak towards her, rapidly recalibrating her performance for a new audience. She feigns shock at Slang's determination, and she thrusts her wide-eyed face forward as she steps back from the Tya's charge. She plants a pivot foot, ready to pirouette gracefully out of the way as soon as Slang swings at her "unguarded" upper body... and then Serpent-Sting slams into her gut, driving the wind out of her. She skids back a few steps, genuine vulnerability taking the place of performance.

The Penitent:

Skymoth's spear pierces through the brush-lion and pushes out the other side, head and shaft dripping with sticky-sweet gore. The impaled beast roars and thrashes in a final spasm of defiance, but the strength is gone out of its limbs, and it accomplishes nothing more than fractionally hastening its own death. Moments later, its body goes slack, its bellowing cries fading down to a final rasping wheeze.

Warily, the lady monk steps back from the beast and from its slayer, not leaving her fighting stance.

"Who are you?" she demands of Skymoth, "And where did you come from?"

Read Intentions vs Skymoth to gauge what he wants here.
[roll0]
Also, I've been thinking about it, and... opportunities for on-screen hunts aren't common in PbP, and Skymoth did try to "hunt" the brush-lion by attempting to spot it while it was still in hiding, and he did kill it by piercing through it, so... if Skymoth is willing to look like a total weirdo by licking blood off his spear in front of the monk, he can acquire it as a form. It uses the Great Cat statblock from Core, with its Camouflage Merit applying where underbrush is present.

Eurus

2020-05-22, 03:59 PM

"To answer your first question, I am Skymoth. As for your second, I am from Harborhead, as I'm sure you might guess."

With that technically accurate but totally useless answer, Skymoth gives a bow. He barely even hesitates as he dips his fingertips in the gore at the tip of his spear and tastes it. It's... less floral than he hoped, to be honest. Tastes mostly like blood, but more bitter. He winces, then chuckles.

"Not much good eating on these, I take it."

Skymoth's Guile is one, so I'm assuming the monk will succeed! Skymoth's goal here is to protect the monk and the old man, but also to keep an eye on them and make sure they're not up to anything nefarious! And to get the monk to like him!

Inspector Valin

2020-06-04, 09:55 AM

Unfortunately for 'Cathak Sijip', this isn't a dance where only she can set the pace any more. No sooner has she slid back from Slang's barrage than two quick gouts of blue flame roar across the battlefield right towards her - Wic might lack the concentration right now to line up the perfect shot, but he can keep her reeling away and one false step could see the false Satrap take both flames instead of one. Oh, wouldn't that be a sight.

Back within his circle Wic mutters, more to himself than Sijip or any audience member. "Tell the Moon I said hello."

Withering attack on Sijip. No charms.

[roll0] Attack - Dex 5 + MA 5 + Spec 1 + Stunt 2 + Acc 5 - Poison 5
[roll1] Damage - Overwhelming 5

Ascension

2020-06-04, 11:43 PM

The Dinner Party:

Essence and fatigue burn in equal measure in Sijip's muscles as she strains to twist and dance out of the way of Wic's onrushing flame, but she is pressed hard by her other attackers, and she trusts too much in the strength of the poison she employed, and only narrowly does she avoid outright incineration. Blue flames bracket her awkwardly contorted body, granting her a sort of false anima as sparks catch at jacket sleeve and trouser leg. The momentum of battle has well and truly turned against her.

Wic hit with two threshold successes, Sijip's Soak is not good, and Wic's damage dice were good, so that's another 10i damage to the already-Crashed Sijip!
Aloru's eyes widen as he takes in the scene. Despite their advantage of surprise, despite their ferocious skill, he and his allies are being driven back... are being beaten, frankly... by their ragtag foes. And though his own foe has kept her sword sheathed, it's clear she's not holding back her strength, nor are her allies fearful of employing lethal force. He could die here.

A fear he hasn't felt since his Exaltation thrills through his veins, and his teeth grate against each other as he transmutes that fear to rage. He is angry, angry at his allies for their vulnerability, angry at himself for his weakness, angry at his opponents for having the gall to defy them. He feeds his anger into his fists... he feeds everything into his fists. That's the secret, it must be... he just wasn't trying hard enough before. He's stronger than this. He's stronger than all of them. He's strong enough to turn the tide.

He must be.

He fires an uppercut at Kelam, his razor claws tearing toward her throat. She'll block it, he knows she will. She's faster than he is, and he knows it. But he doesn't care. He's certain that he's stronger. He'll simply punch through her guard, and then he'll finally see her blood flow...

Aloru is making a Withering attack against Kelam using Fists of Iron Technique* for 1m to ignore 6 Soak, applying 7m of the Brawl Excellency, and spending 2m to keep his anima from showing.

Kelam will spend 4m to boost her Parry.

I'll edit to acknowledge the results.

Aloru's Attack: [roll0]
Aloru's Damage (Base 14, Minimum 3): [roll1]

* Re-reading Fists of Iron, I'm not entirely certain if its Withering benefit is meant to apply to armed attacks or not. I'm ruling in favor of it being useful here largely because I feel like Havesh the Vanisher ought to be scary when backed into a corner, and I missed a prime chance to use Solar Cross-Counter against Kelam on her last attack, so I need some other gimmick, but don't consider that ruling binding in the event that a PC ends up taking Solar Brawl for some reason.
Aloru's attack is fierce, but it is not fierce enough. Kelam stands her ground, and she blocks his blow, but despite its strength, strength enough that Kelam's feet plow miniature furrows through the garden soil underfoot as her heels dig in, she stops the blades of the false satrap's claw just short of their mark.

Aloru's fear returns, in earnest.

End of round, everyone regains 5m, Brown Leaf is up first.
The Penitent:

The monk triply frowns: at Skymoth's sampling of the beast's blood, at his unusual name, and at his guileless non-response. While there doesn't seem to be any deeper intrigue behind the man's innocent helpfulness, his simple naivete might make him an even greater liability to the plan than his enmity would.

"...well, I thank you for your assistance, Skymoth of Harborhead, but you shouldn't have put yourself in danger for our sake," she says.

She kneels over the body of one of the guardsmen mauled by the brush-lion. His belly is torn open, the organs within dragged half out and punctured in multiple places. For the moment, he is still breathing, albeit in strangled, wordless gasps, but his eyes are vacant, and even with an Exalted physician's aid, he might well be past saving. She mops sweat from his brow with the edge of her sleeve.

"I should not have asked that of anyone," she says.

She gestures to the two soldiers who stood firm throughout the brush-lion's attack.

"I don't know whither you are bound, Skymoth, but if you are headed down the Penitent, I would ask you to please take these two with you. See them back to the Lap safely, if you would be so kind. As you've seen, the forest here in the arms is dangerous for them, and I would not see any more blood shed on behalf of he and I."

She smiles without humor.

"We are much less vulnerable than we appear."

Persuade action to try to convince Skymoth to take the survivors and go back down the mountain. She's fishing with this one; if he doesn't have any Intimacies to support her argument, it might automatically fail, but it's not a very challenging request, and she assumes that his actions thus far already indicate that he's the sort who probably cares whether mortals live or die.

Technically, if this persuasion is viable and the roll is good, you might need to cite two opposing Intimacies to resist; one to boost initial Resolve, and another in a Decision Point if that boosted Resolve is overcome. But we'll see whether or not it comes to that.
[roll2]