The Convergence of Sky: An Exalted campaign.

[pfm1995]

Waking to find his bags once again rooted through and his traveling finery dragged out to be made into some kind of muddy nest, a strange sort of calm settles over Adorei as he lets out a long, frustrated sigh. It's the sigh of someone realizing that another persons mistake has made their job much longer and much harder than it should have been.

His hair, his various morning rituals are left unattended. Adorei stands barefoot in the snow and plucks one of his many plain grey knives from the depths of a sleeve, testing the weight as he walks forwards. His steps are almost silent in the snow and there's not a trace of wariness in him - his movements are crisp, his eyes bright. He'd been taught since before he could talk that the best victories were ones where everyone wins. He'd been taught that the mark of true skill was how few enemies you could make while getting what you want. He'd been taught martial arts, in the hopes that it'd emphasize the importance of stealth and discipline. All of this, so that when the voices rose in his ears he wouldn't do exactly what he was about to do now.

It's not always possible, he reflects, for everyone to win.

He crouches down by Decks' supposedly-sleeping form, still toying with the knife.

"I'm going to assume you're awake, because if you're not then you really are useless to us. I'd hoped that we could come to an... an understanding, but now it's clear that I'm going to have to speak your language if I'm going to get through to you at all. You know, I considered just letting us live and let live? Violence is a last resort, and with people like us carries an uncomfortable amount of risk. Except... well, it's the disrespect that gets to me. Not the disrespect of me, though you'll come to regret that in time, but the disrespect of all the people in my charge."

He gestures with the knife at the silks.

"Cloth like that, clothing like that, takes a lifetime of skill to make, a dedication to a craft that nears religion. There weren't any shining artifacts used in the weaving, no artifice of bygone ages - just an old man with shaking hands and pride in his work. It's him you're disrespecting. And not only him - the fishermen who gathered the shells to make the dyes, the silkworm farmers, the merchants, and the many generations who've lived only to pass down their trade from parent to child, all of them you lie here and you disrespect. This is the behavior of a child, and when children misbehave they are punished. So," he said, his voice suddenly turning chipper, "for every time I catch you going through my things, I'm going to take a whisker. When you run out of those, I'll start in on the tail. Eventually, you'll learn. And the rest of you," he said, not turning but knowing they're listening, "if you so much as open your mouths to speak up against this then I'll sell you all out to the Immaculate Order myself. This behavior is unacceptable, that I'm not treating him the same way I treated that spider creature is a mercy."

So saying, he dropped the knife in the snow in front of Decks' nose and stood up, stretching languidly. "Time to pack. We're wasting daylight."

He returned to his tent. His feet are freezing, and in his head the whispers howl.

Spoiler: OOC

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Alright! This is an attempt to instill a minor tie of respect for Adorei (or similar) in Decks. No excellency here, but I will spend a point of WP.

Spoiler: Roll

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Manipulation + Presence (7d10)[5][5][9][10][4][5][10](48) + 1

[Malozing]

Decks opens an eye. The amber eye studies the knife embedded in the cold ground before the cat stretches and sits up. With a yawn, Decks shifts back into his human form. Gathering up the various clothes, he shakes them out and folds them over his arm before walking into the dragon’s tent.

“Took you long enough to show your claws properly. Can’t work with someone who can’t push back properly.” Decks places the folded clothes next to Adorei’s pack. The tip of the Lunar’s tail lazily flicks back and forth as he yawns yet again. “Oh, if you ever see also people who had a hand in making those, tell ‘em they make some soft stuff. It’s nice.”

Before Adorei could reply, Decks dashes out of the tent in his leopard form.

Spoiler: OOC

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He's just gonna take it. He won't stop poking now and then, but it might just end up being something like what I will share in the Discord chat soon.

[pfm1995]

Fixing his hair for the day, Adorei allows himself one more frustrated sigh before returning to a perfectly neutral expression. You read stories about the barbarism of the north, you're warned about it, but still you don't believe how stubbornly stupid they are about it until you see it yourself. It's no wonder the Realm overwhelmed them. He almost found himself with a sliver of compassion for the Bull, if these were the kind of people the old monster found himself having to wrangle. How could you lead a group of any size, if the people below you rank themselves on how ready they are to do violence. How could a weak person with a good idea ever correct the strong? It was the same failure he saw in the other Houses, those that refused to acknowledge their gifted mortals, but amplified a thousand-fold.

Well, something to ruminate on as they traveled. He may even write a scroll about it, and arrange to have it read back on the Isle. It would be a useful way to keep his name alive on the homeland. Finishing his ablations, Adorei set to packing.

[Ascension]

Walda shakes his head in wonderment. One of their dysfunctional little circle is bound to kill another before Mask is restored. Or... at least he hopes the tension between Decks and Adorei is still murderous. Neither man is attractive enough for the alternatives to be worth contemplating.

He keeps his thoughts to himself as he packs and readies himself to go.

[Sticks]

It takes the group of Exalts far less time to leave the forest-valley than to enter it. Perhaps some magic of the chimera made the twisting paths seem longer, or perhaps familiarity makes the journey feel shorter. At any rate, the four chosen are soon blinking in the weak sunlight of mid-morning, looking down at their own footprints in the snow from the day before. There's a crisp chill in the air that is rather refreshing after the stifling calm of the silk-wreathed forest, and Mask's cell is only a few days away on foot.

[Sticks]

Arriving back at the Cell, the circle can see that some things have changed. Smoke from many cooking-fires can be seen from far off, and when the exalts draw close they can see there are two camps set up. One is comprised of the Moonblades, set up on the leeward side of the Cell's basin, shielded from the wind off the lake by the rim of the crater and the wind-wall, which is still cycling. This camp is eclectic, a mix of old legionary tents, elk and seal-hides draped over canvas, and rough lean-to shelters arranged in a large, organized circle. None of them are in the best condition, but they seem sturdy and serviceable. The other camp faces the lake and is much smaller, a collection of large comfortable tents of good material, leather and thick furs secured by sturdy rope and shiny pegs driven into the cold ground. The sledges are unhitched, formed into a barrier to block the wind from blowing across the frozen lake. The two camps are separated by a hundred yards of tundra, and right in the middle, the snow is scattered and stained with copious amounts of blood.

[Ascension]

A thrill comes over Walda, a heady blend of battle lust and anxiety, concern and contempt.

Eager Phaessa, sword of the waxing moon, leaps into his hand, its hooked moonsilver blade flexing like a thing alive, scenting the air. It senses his agitation, his desire for Adorei's blood.

With effort, he wills sword and sword-hand to calm. Killing Adorei now would undo all the progress the Exalts' fragile alliance has made together. Sunshine would doubtless turn on him, and even Decks might not take his side.

"There will be a reckoning," he swears, with brittle civility. "Fault determined, and recompense made."

He rounds on Adorei, brows knitted with the effort of remaining calm.

"I don't know how, but you have seen that the Solar is ignorant of both our peoples, and of our feud. Will you accept her arbitration?" he asks, brusquely. "You'll find nothing closer to neutrality out here."

He snorts.

"Or much of anywhere, short of heaven."

[Inspector Valin]

"I'm right here, you know. And we don't even know if this is human blood yet. No corpses here, and no signs of burial. For all you know, your two bands of followers actually managed to co-operate and hunt an elk together or... something."

Outlander sighs, unable to truly bring herself to believe that. The Maidens aren't so kind to their little band. She's still grousy following the trail home - she'd intended to try and get the group to start singing a hiking song to raise their spirits... only to be stymied by the discovery that she doesn't actually recall any trail songs. Still, another day, another problem to work through. And this is far from the most aggressive their little band has gotten. As such she turns to the two leaders, "Walda. Adorei. Each of you get someone you trust to come here and explain what happened. Or just get their explanation and come back here if you'd rather leave them in camp. Meet us by... that""

Instructions given, she starts to walk forward to the scene. Tapping the rim of her armored skirt, the strange Solar turns towards her cat-Lunar compatriot, sharing a curious look with him. "Decks, you know stuff. Is this human blood? Can you tell?"

[Malozing]

Decks bumps his shoulder against The Outlander's knee and moves even closer to the stained snow. The pink nose twitches at the metallic scent, and the leopard's tongue swipes across a small patch of the red snow.

Spoiler: survival roll

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Spending 2m to activate Mercurial Hunter's Resolution to get 3 extra dice. (14d10)[3][6][9][2][10][4][1][8][9][9][2][6][4][8](81)

The earthy and minty flavors and a hint of iron dance across his tastebuds causing a content purr to rumble from Decks's chest. Instead of transforming and informing the Solar, the cat continues to lap at the blood-soaked snow.

[pfm1995]

"A reckoning and recompense, yes." Adorei says, and his voice is the sound of ice cracking. "In any other circumstance, your naivete regarding the affairs of Heaven would be amusing. The Outlander's arbitration is acceptable to House Nellens." Because, really, is there any doubt as to the cause of this? An unruly mob of half-wild half-animals, left without their one stabilizing influence in close proximity to what they'd perceive as an easy target... what had happened here was obvious. One of the scavengers had lost patience and had attacked one of his men. Still, the proper forms must be seen to, both to preserve the Outlander's neutrality - something that would be a precious commodity in days to come, he was sure - and to add weight to the scales when the time comes for Waldaharjaz's accounting. His eye on the Lunar's vicious sword, a thrum of fear runs up his spine but never reaches his face. He is keenly aware that, should this devolve into a brawl, he and his would be hopelessly outmatched. There were simply too many of the wildmen to fight, and the two lunar anathema - for surely they would band together - were both fearsome fighters. But these animals had hurt those under Adorei's command, and for this there would be a punishment. Whether it came in the light and after evidence was presented and judgement passed or in the dark with knives and whispers was an incidental detail.

"The bandit may do as he wills; I needs must consult with my camp, discover whom among my retinue still lives, and consult with those I left watching over them. I have reports far more accurate than the accounting of men, or those of the carrion. I will return before the sun sets."

So saying, Adorei strode off through the snows and towards his men's camp. First, he would speak to the living, the wounded and witnesses to the attack. Then he would speak to the dead and find the truth of things.

[Sticks]

Adorei:

Adorei is met by Nellens Bosro, his nearest kin running out to meet him. The athletic Nellens patrician is half a head taller than Adorei, and twice as broad, so he parts the snow easily as he approaches his kin. "Cousin, I am glad to see you yet live. These fallen men and beasts they...they may have ruined us!"

Decks:

To Decks' feline tongue, the red-stained snow is tasty indeed. There are many clustered foot-prints and parts of the snow have been churned into frozen mud. It's likely that the scuffle took place within the last day, but it doesn't seem like a battle per-se. The blood all tastes the same, for one thing, and there's none of the usual discarded weapons or shed arrows a tracker would expect of a tundra fight between armed forces. The volume of blood and the relative paucity of violence certainly make for an odd contrast.

Walda and Outlander

The two celestial Exalted see a figure off at the edge of the Moonblades' camp waving them over. From this distance it's hard to make them out, but when their hood falls back, the early-afternoon sun reveals a head of long green hair. It's likely Walda's Ex-legionary lieutenant, Zheng.

[Ascension]

"'The bandit,'" Walda hmphs, and spits in the departing Adorei's wake.

"'The bandit' has questions of his own to ask. And then we'll find out what Nellens' words are worth."

He sheathes his sword and takes a step towards his own camp, then a leap, shifting mid-stride into a rangy adolescent wolf, its undercoat in springtime shed. He bounds across the snow in swift strides, soon skidding to a halt beside Zheng in a spray of powder. When the snow settles, he is a man again.

"Report," he says, knowing that Zheng appreciates it when he remembers to nod in the direction of military discipline, but he can't hold himself back from adding an un-regimented "What the hell happened here?" gesturing back at the mess of bloody snow.

[pfm1995]

Despite the present urgency, when Adorei saw Bosro approaching he stopped to stand in the snow and let the other Nellens come to him. Not only was it expected, from the sweat-stained, half-panicked look of the man it was necessary. Panic was like an avalanche, starting with a bare tremor high above and gathering speed along the way. In order to keep their people focused, motivated, and on task it was necessary for those of the blood to be in control. Dearest cousin Bosro seemed to have forgotten that. A raised eyebrow and a few heartbeats of silence served as an unspoken reprimand, and only then did Adorei address the problem at hand.

"Not here, cousin." Adorei said, starting to walk again. "Our companions have sharp ears, and I would hear your report free from interference. This situation must be managed carefully, if we are to avoid extinction." Even as they walked, though, with Adorei using Bosro's newly-plowed path, the air aspect's mind raced to catch up with what Bosro had said. They may have ruined us? These were not the words of someone who'd just had the people under his command massacred. And Bosro himself, trained to fight like any dynast, wasn't wounded. What had happened here?

Only when they were both safely ensconced in the shelter of one of their sleighs did Adorei finally start asking question. "Firstly, are any of ours wounded or dead?" That was the most important thing to know right now.

[Sticks]

Walda:

Zheng salutes in proper legionary fashion and stands at attention. "Yes commander. After your departure, we set-to making camp. The Nellens entorage refused to share a campground with us, despite our offers of cooperation. We took the sheltered side of the crater and left them to their devices. Foraging parties were sent out and returned with some game, but not enough. Then some of the wolvermen...well..." She begins to look uncomfortable. "They went to the Nellens camp and asked for support, they objected and..."

Adorei: Bosro is in full tirade "We had been perfectly reasonable with the brutes, but that wasn't good enough! They wanted our supplies for themselves! Well I had a full inventory and I knew we'd need to hold everything in reserve if we're going to survive a journey back to Diamond Hearth without guides, so I refused them! The beasts have no discipline, can't take no for an answer...I suppose we could have spared...something, but then one of the yeddim spooked! The poor thing must've gotten their scent and started running, but it ran towards their camp! We were all chasing it, the beastmen were harrying it, the other bandits ran out to join and..."

Decks:

Decks is sure of it, this tasty blood, just over a day old and perfectly preserved in the snow isn't human or beastman, it's all from some big animal, probably one of the ones Adorei brought.

Walda: "So anyway sir, our ration problems are solved for now and the wolvermen have been happily gnawing bones all night, but the Nellens group won't speak to us or let our medics and shamans treat their bruises from the brawl...though let me tell you that big guy they follow when your Dragon-blood isn't around can fight, he knocked Wrek out cold with one blow... at any rate, it was during the confusion that the prisoner escaped."

Adorei: "And it would've been even worse if that infernal hobgoblin hadn't started shouting. We'd tied him up on one of the sledges, but when the Yeddim got loose he must've made a break for it. He stopped to yell about how we'd all be impaled on icicles and roasted over green flames from a ways off when both camps took off after him, but he was too far away and the little green monster was damned fast. So here we are, down a yeddim and unable to carry enough supplies to survive the trek back to civilization, and missing a prisoner with valuable information, and it's all the damned barbarians' fault."

Walda:

"And if they'd been willing to cooperate we could've settled this days ago and coordinated guarding the hobgoblin instead of bickering."

Decks:

This is some tasty blood.

[pfm1995]

Adorei allowed himself a long, frustrated sigh. This was a frightful mess, no other way about it, but not half as bad as he'd originally thought. "At least no-one is dead." He said, finding the faintest of silver linings. "All else can be fixed, with time and treasure. The cost of the yeddim can be repaid, the supplies carried - some of the scavengers can go from wolves to sled dogs, it would be ironically fitting. This is no catastrophe." The hobgoblin escaping was similarly unfortunate, but nonfatal news; hopefully one of the anathema better at tracking than his men would be able to pick up its trail. At the very least, it would get them out of his hair for a few hours.

He turned his attention back to Bosro, smoothing his hair back. "Understand, though - this may not be a catastrophe, but it is still a failure on our part." His use of 'our' is deliberate; this is a lesson for both of them and not a chastisement. "We are balanced on the thinnest of razor edges, we cannot afford even a single sip. If they had decided to attack the caravan in force, they would have slaughtered you all. Showing teeth is good, but only with the strength to back it up. Before dark, an order will be passed down for both parties to combine camps. Prepare everyone for it, especially the traders. Some of these bandits are former legionaries; they at least speak our language. Have everyone begin making connections. The next time something like this happens, I want friendly voices in their midst when the time comes."

So saying, Adorei stands. "Is there anything else that needs my time? If not, I have reparations to negotiate."

[Sticks]

Borso looks surprised, but he relents. "No, cousin. So far as I'm aware, everything's been a bit focused. So you intend us to remain here and cooperate with these sa....these people. I won't dispute it, but I wonder if others will." He makes the subtle gestures to indicate the council of elders. "Whatever your final verdict is, cousin, I'll follow you."

[Ascension]

Walda grimaces.

"I've spent enough time with their employer not to be surprised to hear that they think hospitality is something that happens to other people. And enough to know that they'll interpret all of this in the least charitable way possible."

He sets to pacing. Diplomacy, despite the gifts of his exaltation, is not his strongest suit. This will require a more delicate touch than either his smile or his sword can provide. But he does understand one thing about detente, at least.

"The important thing is that if the peace between us breaks, they must break first. They think us savages, animals, deserters, and criminals... so if they lose their precious moral high ground to us, how much lower than filth must they be?"

Yes, that sounds good, doesn't it? Frame self-restraint and humility as a strategic coup. Let dimmed pride shine on in secret as a sort of vindictive self-righteousness. All the while watchful, in case the Dynast's vultures slip first.

"We can endure this," he says, reassuring himself as well as Zheng. "Their disrespect, their master's reproach. We can weather it. We can be better than them."

He looks straight at her, the conviction firm in his eyes now.

"We should know that we're better than them."

He turns, looking towards the other camp.

"He'll want to talk, I'm sure. Gather everyone together while I and Adorei discuss this. By the time I'm back... I'll have something to say to the lot of us."

With any luck, that should buy him enough time to actually work out the rest of the speech.

[Sticks]

The two camps busy themselves as the orders spread from the two leaders. Decks continues to lap up the bloody snow, but the taste is beginning to sour and the cold is beginning to give the cat-lunar a headache. Adorei and Walda seem to reach their decision points at the same time and approach each other at more or less the same speed, coming within speaking distance not far from their companion's gory frozen treat.

Spoiler: OOC

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Valin, Outlander can choose to sit this negotiation out, or try to act as arbiter as Adorei had requested. It's up to you. If the others press on, you can jump in anytime.

[Ascension]

"First thing you should know about Northern cultures," Walda says as Adorei comes within easy earshot. He smiles, but it's toothless, a dim shadow of his usual sharp grins. "...is that we take our traditions of hospitality very seriously."

[pfm1995]

"Yes, I can tell." Adorei said dryly as he joined the others. "Your hospitality traditions must be very different from the Realm's, that they include robbing from erstwhile allies and butchering their pack animals." He turned to the Outlander, dipping his head slightly in acknowledgement. "As it was relayed to me, the bandits attemted to extort supplies from my men. Not having supplies to spare, my men refused and the bandits attacked. Fortunately no one was killed, at least among my men, but one of my yeddim was apparently slaughtered and carted off to serve as food for his wolves." His gaze flicked towards Walda. "This is not a small thing - without that yeddim, we do not have the pack space necessary to make the journey back to civilization."

Still looking at the Outlander, Adorei's voice grew incrementally colder. "Put another way, though no-one is dead we now face starvation on the return journey. Additionally, as the topping to this delightful mess, the hobgoblin prisoner escaped into the wild during the commotion."

He turned to Walda. "Do you or your men dispute this?"

[Ascension]

"I cannot dispute that my men asked yours if they would share their supplies, that your men's refusal turned violent, that the yeddim got loose and was killed, or that the hobgoblin fled in the confusion. What I can dispute is your insulting characterization of my Moonblades' motives, along with your dire predictions for the future."

Walda counts his points off on his fingers.

"First, I dispute the claim that you had no food to spare. The size of your party is reduced with your native guides fled, and even if you truly had no surplus, your entourage of city-folk doubtless have fat enough bellies to survive a day or two of reduced rations.

"Second, that was a polite request for cooperation, no attempt at extortion. If my men had been in the mood to be impolite, it wouldn't just be the blood of a yeddim in this snow.

"Third, if you planned to complete a journey into the unknown, with no set end, with only the food you packed at the start of the trip, then you're a fool. You didn't know where that soapstone would take you, and none of us know how long Mask's errands will take us now. If we, all of us, are to complete our goals, we'll need to forage where we can. Trade where we can. Take, if we must. And, yes, share what we have along the way.

"Fourth, I don't know what you're planning on hauling back to your so-called 'civilization,' but I'd wager your men could stand to benefit from this encouragement to travel lighter. Divide what's necessary among your men; discard whatever you don't need."

He smirks, and now he lets a glint of teeth show.

"And if they can't or won't carry their load, then they're something you don't need."

[pfm1995]

"Very well then," Adorei says, his expression still unchanging, "let us talk of 'dead weight'. You say we should forage, you say we should trade - what were your men offering to trade? Where was their foraging? Instead they come to us, refusing to accept reality and demanding our charity. A characterization is only insulting if it is not true - your men are scavengers, in need of either a carcass to pick at or scraps to be thrown to them. I maintain my point on starvation - you forget that, when you first attacked us, our guides fled. Without them, we will need all the supplies we can ration to survive the journey home. Our problems, all of them, are of your own making and lead to a broader point: I will not allow your people to bleed mine drip by drip until we die out here in these frozen wastes. Tighten our belts? Yours stole from mine, and now you say it was acceptable because we can survive without it? If your men cannot provide for themselves, then we do not need them at all. Redress is necessary. Offer it, if you do not want it taken."

That there were ten times as many bandits, or that their leader was almost certainly a better fighter than Adorei, was not and could not be part of the equation. These barbarians had made it clear that they respected only knives at their throat, and if he descended from this hill without an ironclad settlement then that is what they would get. It would be easy, too - how many of them would be tired of caring for the cripples in their ranks? Of watching as the food they earned went into someone else's mouth? How many chafing under what little discipline they had, or remembering fondly their days in the legions? Men like these left many ghosts; the necessary information would be easy to find. A few short conversations and they would be butchering each other in their beds.

If he ever left the hill.

[Ascension]

"You assume my men hadn't exhausted every other option first? That they wanted to come crawling to you, begging for your scraps?! They did hunt, they did forage, but the necessity of remaining near Mask's prison - and the absence of my skills - limited the yield. Had we a surplus, and had your fat folk the need of it, we would have been glad to share what we had... if nuts and berries and wild game are good enough for their refined palates. Charity... hospitality... is the reality of survival in a Northern winter. Giving and taking, as needs must."

Walda frowns. How did that sound? He's doing his best to seem reasonable right now, and he doesn't want to give Adorei the satisfaction of letting on how hard it is for him to do that. He takes a deep breath and continues.

"If a lack of guides is truly what has you afeared, my men can help with that, too, when the time comes. Despite our many, pronounced differences, despite the violence between us in the past, we are supposed to be comrades now, by Mask's will and our agreement. If you want us to work together, then we need to do just that. Work. Together. But if that doesn't interest you... If cooperation doesn't appeal..."

Now, to make this next point, Walda is free to do what comes more naturally. He draws himself up to his full height, and he rolls his shoulders, emphasizing the power of the muscular frame hidden beneath his jacket. He takes a step closer, glowering at Adorei, and his voice drops into a low growl.

"...if you would rather talk about what can be taken, and from whom, then we can pick back up where we started, when we first met. Is that what you'd like?"

[Inspector Valin]

"What, fighting me?" Outlander puts a hand to Walda's shoulder. For once, the strange woman's grin is... disturbingly enthusiastic. "Well, if you insist, Mister 'I'm the big bad bandit king'. I'm down for a rematch. Because after hearing you two talk, Walda, trust me: I really want to punch something."

She holds that look for a few seconds, before stepping away with an exasperated sigh. Looking down, her fists are clenched. Smiles aside, the Outlander's frustration is all too real. When she speaks, she's having to fight not to shout at the top of her lungs. "This is a stupid argument. Both of you! You've lost sight of the idea of working to a common goal, so it's all what my people need, what the others could do for me. You can't take a step back and think this through like we're on the same side!"

And maybe that is her mistake. Maybe there's no common ground to be found here. Maybe she should just leave these people to kill each other and go on her merry way. But... Outlander's gaze turns briefly to the mound. She takes a deep breath, places a hand to her forehead, and starts to try and reason this through aloud. "There's a lot of mouths to feed here. We can try and set up some kind of foraging system, rationing between everyone... but that's going to just lead to more stupid arguments when one side thinks the other isn't pulling their weight, that they need supplies more, especially if the area continues to not yield much game. We can't just order both groups to get along. We need another way to break the deadlock"

The Solar is silent for a few seconds, considering, before turning to the dragon blood. "Adorei. Your family aren't warriors, so you don't provide much to help protect the site here, but you know the way to this spot now, even with your guides gone. What do you say to starting a pack train with the settlement you came from to try and keep the Moonblades supplied? That way you'll get some time back in a settlement, you're still contributing to the group's goals, and you don't have to make camp next to bandits all the time."

She holds up a hand. "We'll need to find some way to help move the extra supplies following the lost Yeddim. I know. But overall, does that make sense?"

[Malozing]

As the two debate their points, Decks leisurely grooms his face after his bloody, cold snack. However, his good mood dissipates when the Outlander mentions wanting to punch something. His ears angled back, and his amber eyes stare unblinkingly at Adorei and Walda.

Don't test her.

Decks might not have been fully paying attention to the whole conversation, but he knows he doesn't want to have to fight the Solar next to him again.

[pfm1995]

Adorei has to fight not to roll his eyes at Walda's posturing. Give me what I want in the spirit of friendship, or I will kill you and take it. Yes, this is not extortion at all. It's the Outlander's blithe dismissal of the problem, though, that finally breaks the calm and collected face he'd been putting on. He whirls to face her. "This 'stupid argument'? His men attack mine. They butcher one of my animals. They endanger all of us by letting the hobgoblin escape. And instead of offering restitution, of even offering an apology, he threatens to kill me and mine unless we let them do it again, and again, and again. And your response is to accuse me of not 'trying to work together'? Would you have me go stand by the litters where my men are recovering and tell them that they should be ashamed, for trying to protect what was theirs?"

He regathered himself, tucking back a strand of hair that'd come loose. "I have asked them," he said, slowly, "to follow me to an unknown destination in the hopes of uncertain reward, to suffer all the risks and indignities of the road and the elements with the simple promise that it would be worth it. I do not surround myself with sycophants, or with fools. Any one of my men could easily be making a comfortable living in Iceholm, should they wish it. This... plan... of yours," he waved his hand ephemerally, "if I followed it, many of them would do exactly that. And this would be devastating to us. How many of you know even the first principles of First Age history? Of manse design? How many of you can even speak more than Skytongue? Men only swallow the kinds of abuses you seem so ready to excuse when they have no other option; these men do."

Though, beneath the anger Adorei's fine-tuned business mind began to whir to life. "There are other issues with your plan, beyond morale concerns. There are no items of value here to trade, nor trade routes for the scavengers to prey upon. Who would be paying for this scheme? Feeding two-hundred men for any length of time is a considerable expense, beyond my personal fortune even if I were inclined to shoulder the cost - which I am not. Also, lest we forget, all three of you are blasphemous demons who live only to corrupt and kill the righteous and who should be reported to the nearest Immaculate temple immediately. I may not hold tight to Immaculate doctrine, but the same is not true of every man in my retinue or of every man they meet."

He paused, gathering his thoughts.

"All that is not to say it is entirely without merit. The other demesne is surrounded by a small forest. Good wood is in short supply this far north, and the overabundance of wood essence would ensure that the land, if carefully cleared, would be fertile. A logging camp could be established, supplies diverted. It would likely be profitable enough to support this venture. Of course, this would depend on a certain level of discipline from the marauders here in allowing the camp to work unmolested."

Speaking practically, the more human bandits could even serve as guards. It would help to civilize them, or to fracture them. Either would be acceptable.

"So, there is some potential in this idea. But not enough to disguise the fact that I am being asked to shoulder the burdens of those who have threatened me and assaulted my men."

[Inspector Valin]

"You are asking the same thing of us."

The Outlander has grown a lot more cold now. Her glare at Adorei is icy, the edges of her sleeves gleam and swirl in ripples of silver as the warrior clutches at them, trying to restrain herself as the moonsilver rises over her hands, ready for a fight. "You like acting smug, Adorei. Superior. 'Civilized'. But you're asking for our faith, our trust and a seat at this table when it comes to the division of the take. And so far, all that knowledge of tongues stuff has brought our group nothing. The Moonblades were wrong to try and take your supplies, but they had a point. They have been able to act as guards. What have you or your men offered us?"

The chill calm look on the Outlander's face is gone now, replaced with an outright scowl as she glares daggers at the young Dragon Blood. "Oh, I know. Death threats! You're still bringing up this Immaculate Doctrine, talking about how the three of us deserve to die. And it makes this whole stance of yours two faced. Because you're still happy to condemn Walda and Decks for threatening you, while apparently in the wider world your people are a continual threat to them. Would they even be willing to negotiate like this if they had a position of power?"

"And that threat extends to me. The woman who tried to help you when this started. Who stood before a hundred bandits and two moon-chosen to try and buy you a shot at safety, without knowing one damn thing about you, because defending the unarmed and vulnerable is the right thing to do. Who'd probably be locked up or killed right away if you had the troops and strength to see it done, you ungrateful, good for nothing arse!"

Those last words are full of outright rage, the Outlander balling her fists as she yells. She's not afraid of Adorei or his Realm, but she's sure enough of her words and that inability to accept another's intentions is deeply frustrating to the Outlander. They'd fought a giant spider-monster together! There's no reason for animosity here!

She wants to punch something. Anything! Just to relieve the tension of this moment, to feel for a second like things are under her control. Small silver nibs start to slither over her knuckles, forming the beginnings of spikes. But... no. Outlander turns back down to the blood, looking at neither party. She places her hand to the ground, breathing the chill air, trying once again to find her center as her armor spikes begins to recede, fading back into the cloth.

"Why are you here, Adorei?"

The words are calm, honestly curious. The strange Solar doesn't look up however. "You got the stone's message from Mask like we all did. But Decks, Walda and I have little to our names. You are supposed to be this highborn lord, looking down on the three of us as unholy spawn..." The Outlander winces, pausing for a second before returning to her point. "You wouldn't just put up with this environment, the indignity to your men and yourself, the three of us, just for the chance of treasure. Would you? When a nice cozy life back home is a possibility?"

[pfm1995]

Adorei let out a soft hiss, eyes flickering down to the balled fists. This... would be a delicate edge to walk. Precarious as his position was, losing the Outlander's support here would likely see him dead before the week was out. He wasn't sure he'd be able to fight even one of the other exalts alone, much less both of them. He started in a low tone - this was between the two of them.

"You equate me warning you of threats to making threats - you would prefer I let you discover them yourself? You wish to know why I am here, freezing and forced to tolerate insult after insult?" He paused, whetting his lips. This wasn't a pleasant reality. "Because my world is burning. Civil war has come to the Isle, and none know what the outcome will be. The powerful look only to their own interests; the weak look to improve their standing at the cost of those around them. Heaven has turned its back on Creation; the fair folk grow bolder by the day. The barbarians are at the gate and the scavengers are circling."

He sighed. "My house will not survive this. We are merchants and craftsmen, we thrive in times of peace. Given another two decades of preparation... but we do not have that. If one of the more warlike great houses march on us, it will quite simply be over - the only thing stopping them is their fear of driving us into the arms of the other. The wisest of us met in council, and it was decided to save what we could at the cost of the rest. They sent me, and others like me, to the far corners of Creation. To wallow in obscurity. To buy businesses, build families, make homes. So that, should Juche burn to the ground and the Blessed Isle run with the blood of dragons, the House and its traditions will survive. This expedition promises a chance to not just survive but to prosper here in the north, and for my descendants to return to the Isle that much stronger."

But now his eyes turned flinty, and he met the Outlander stare for stare. "So you will forgive me if I am less than sanguine over being forced to break bread with those same barbarians tearing at the flanks of the only thing still holding Creation together - or did you think that a few scattered groups of bandits would guard against the next fair folk crusade? Yes, my people are a threat to theirs because they think only of themselves while we acknowledge a greater priority. In better times their predations would already be over; they would have been imprisoned or killed when the first caravans went missing. It has been the tradition and the expectation of my blood to defend Creation from their kind since the time of the Yozi. And yes, we have sometimes failed at this but look at them and you will see the alternative. A slow spiral downwards, until there's nothing left of the glories we once knew. These men once marched to beat back the rapacious hordes. Now they can't stop themselves from killing a terrified, defenseless animal. You say that defending the unarmed and vulnerable is the right thing to do? Perhaps you can teach them that. Maybe in doing so you will learn which of us agrees with you."

[Ascension]

Walda takes a deep breath and looks up into the boundless sky. Were it not for the sake of his people... were it not for his promise to Mask... he could shed his skin for feathers and simply take off into the blue. He could fly away from cares and responsibilities and pig-headed fools. He could even fly further than the reach of the Realm itself. Further than the territories of the Shadow Fang Vanguard. With all his god-granted power, freedom is always so close at hand... but he knows he'll never take it. There is no freedom from an oath.

He runs a slow hand through his bangs and lets out a sigh.

"I sympathize with you," he says, at last, to Adorei. "You will think I'm being facetious; I am not. I remember, too, when I first learned the truth of the world. It was hard. I fought it, in those early days."

He looks at Adorei, meeting the Dynast's eyes. In his own eyes, in a rare sight, there is purely conviction.

"What you have just said about your family... You have now realized that peace is the luxury of the strong. Merchants and craftsmen thrive when fenced in by a hedge of steel. But to survive the storm you say is coming - and to survive the Northern climes you have chosen as your refuge - you will have to find the steel within yourselves."

He shakes his head sadly.

"It's not pleasant that it is so. But that doesn't change the fact that it is truth. The civilization you speak so highly of is only a question of scale; a question of how many soft souls your people's strength can shelter. If you want that luxury for yourselves again... for your House, and not just your Realm... you will have to find strength and make it your own.

"But that is something we can help you with."

He looks toward the horizon, back toward the enchanted wood where they struggled against the spider-kin.

"You are right that the wooded demesne is a resource that could be exploited. Your craftsmen and your merchants can make something of it, and my Moonblades can keep them safe. I am willing to do that, for someone who assaulted my men. And that's not even charity. That's something you ought to understand. That's business. That's civilization. Do you want me to 'defend the unarmed and vulnerable,' or not?"

He ought to leave it at that. That's already less polite than he could have been. But after all Adorei's insults, all of the man's undisguised contempt, he can't let his most egregious doomsaying go unanswered.

"And by the way, if the Fair Folk do attack? The strong will survive, and the weak will perish, just as they would have if your Realm stood entirely intact."

He harrumphs.

"But if your legions fear bandits, I can't say I would trust them against the Fae."

[pfm1995]

Adorei let out a soft sigh and fought not to roll his eyes, ignoring the lunar's jab - if the anathema didn't fear the wrath of the Realm then he'd be pillaging the seaward satraps rather than starving in this godsforsaken patch of empty snow. "This glorification of individual, martial strength you keep spouting... were it true, the Shogunate would never have usurped your predecessors. The weight of a civilization is not in the number of fools waving around swords but in its foundation, in food and commerce. Bandits may march on empty stomachs, but armies do not. Every sword-point and spear-tip must be forged, must be mended. You call it a pasture? It is a great beast, and its claws are worthless without muscle to put power to them. This is the reason the Isle rules, and the North does not - your claws may be sharp, but your body is ever one bad harvest away from starvation. Besides, what is coming no one person is strong enough to survive alone."

He looked to the Outlander. "With certain specific guarantees, I am willing to accept the bandit's offer of security for this new logging expedition in return for food and camp supplies. I would expect you to be the guarantor, though, and to see any penalties through."