The Convergence of Sky: An Exalted campaign.

[Sticks]

Mask dips their head in aknowledgement. "Indeed, we are imprisoned here. Please, just call us 'Mask', a humble bonded spirit has no need for titles. As the sky is our domain, so the air forms our shackles for all time, a just punishment for crimes committed in a bygone age." There is not a trace of irony in their tone. "And indeed, shining one we did draw you here. We sought the chosen, for we have great need of your aid. Chosen were among our friends in ages past, as well as our gaolers. We drew much enjoyment and security from their presence, though it has been many centuries since we last spoke with any. We have slumbered here in isolation for many mortal lifetimes, and when we awoke ere the turning of the season, we found our situation untenable."

The winged serpent slithers along the base of the vapor, bone-feathers folded against its side as it tests the perimeter. "Our prison, though humble at the surface, is a powerful manse, as it must be to contain us. As our imprisonment is long, so too is the abyss of time that stretches between us and the mortal worship that once sustained us. This manse is sufficient to bind us, but it does not sustain. There once was a network of manses and demesnes across the Wasting Tundra that sustained us, but many hundred-seasons ago we witnessed a fae army destroyed an a conflagration the likes of which we had never imagined. That day, the manses shifted and we lost their sustaining essence. We slipped into slumber, hoping that the chosen would return and fix everything, but that day did not come...until now."

[Malozing]

Decks gives Walda a respectful nod in greeting while chewing on the end of a sprig of catmint, but Aldorei receives no acknowledgment from the Full Moon Lunar.

He listens to Mask's explanations and grumbles a question of his own.

"If you were calling for help from Chosen, how did Prince Piss-his-pants get one?" Decks swallows the remains of the sprig. "I mean, he is part of why you called for us."

[Sticks]

Mask slithers up the 'side' of the vapor, flexing their long body as they turn to regard Decks. "He...was not an intended consequence. We sent out five stones, hoping to reach five chosen, the sacred number seemed appropriate. We fear that one of our chosen champions fell to the Rakshasa, or perhaps was coerced. This is troubling. The stones you bear, shards of our mask, are a key, of sorts. Introducing them to the hearth of a manse would direct that manse's power here, to our cell. We fear the Fae's wyld powers may be able to alter that key, make it fit a different lock, perhaps empowering the Fae directly..."

The serpentine spirit falls quiet, lifting away from the edge of the basin and fluttering into the air with a rush of wings. Though it is only an image in the vapor, the four chosen standing before it can feel a gentle breeze beating in time with the hard white wings. "We hope we can rely on you. This is a matter of life and death for us, but we ask not for charity. As our gaolers once did, you would each benefit from access to these lost manses. We suspect their locations are unknown to most, their treasures untouched since the great conflict of ages past, when we lost our friends..."

Mask sinks down, wings slowing before folding alongside their body, tail and neck slowly piling as coils come to rest upon coils. "Oh, our friends. Such loss we have not allowed ourselves to feel. We would shed tears, had we the means. Mortal they were, but being chosen we thought we had eons. Such is life for a heavenly spirit bound to earth. Mayhap we will find new friends among our esteemed company, no? What say you, chosen of Sun, Moon and Dragon? Like you our offer?" The spirit's head is tilted hopefully, a long forked tongue slides through a hole in the mask, tasting the air.

[Malozing]

Decks shakes his cloak off and pulls out another sprig of catmint. Plopping down in front of Mask, Decks began to lounge. The tip of his tail twitches back and forth.

"I still have a bone to pick with Prince Pissy-pants. Also, I can't have anyone from the Realm gaining power uncheck so close to my tribe." Decks finally acknowledges Adorei with a glare, amber flashes briefly in his eyes.

"Plus, I like you so far, Mask. I will help."

[Sticks]

Mask's tongue flicks appreciatively. "And we like you thus far, spotted one."

[Inspector Valin]

"Your old friends... are dead now?"

This makes Nimbus reel. For once she looks honestly afraid, as a whole new possibility occurs to her. The images, the fragments, what she's searching for... there's no guarentee any of it still exists. She had honestly not considered that before this point, and the idea hits her like a kick from a yeddim. It's not only possible, it's plausible: Mask knows her, and knows his old friends, these chosen died. And... she's here. Did she not die? Did she die? Maybe that's what happens when people with shiny marks on their face die - they come back as different people without memories and...

And she's panicking. That won't help. With a somewhat laden grin, the strange woman takes a deep breath before nodding to the dragon-spirit. "I... have a lot of questions. If you're willing to answer them, I'd appreciate it. But I won't see you starve, Mask. You've my help too, no matter what. I'm just... sorry that I don't remember you, or our friendship." The last words make Nimbus lose her smile. She bows low to the spirit, honestly sorry about this.

[Sticks]

Mask lowers their head to stare the the Outlander in the face. They turn this way, then that, eyeing her from both sides of their face. Their tongue flicks out rapidly several times. Then they speak. "Yes, you are Nimbus, and yet you are not. The Nimbus we knew...well...he would have shown signs of age, even holding his shard as he did. He was the youngest of our gaolers, the little brother of his team, though he became a seasoned warrior very quickly. You hold his essence, his spark, we can see it in your eyes, taste it on your breath. It is like looking upon our old friend and knowing them to be a stranger...it brings us sadness and joy in equal measure. We cannot even say if you share his name, for Nimbus was a term of affection he earned from us...different though you may be, we feel no hesitation in allowing you to borrow his name. You will prove yourself his heir, and earn your own name."

Mask's carved face does not move, of course, but their body-language is almost regretful. "We are sorry we did not hold the answers you seek...perhaps we can aid you by other means."

A rumbling sound and a slight tremor shakes everyone present, then a geyser shoots out of the ground on the far side of the pillar, striking its underside. With a high cracking noise, the water solidifies into a block of ice, forming a new support for the basin. On approach, a small hole is visible, diamond-shaped and filled with swirling clear lake-water that does not spill, as it is being held in place by a whirlind identical to the one outside, save in scale. "This cell is a font of power, and in his day, Nimbus was attuned to it. The grandeur is somewhat lessened of late, but restoring our connection to the outlying manses and demenses will alleviate that. Our new friend, Nimbus, please consider this your home, if you would have it."

[Ascension]

"It's not my place to judge any being deemed 'criminal' by the world," Walda begins, but, in truth, his status as a fellow outlaw clouds his understanding of Mask, rather than aiding him. The serpent seems broken by his captivity, accepting of it. Walda could never imagine calling a gaoler "friend."

"...but what was your crime, Mask? Before we agree to help save your life, we should know the nature of the spirit we're helping."

He bares his teeth... perhaps smiling, perhaps threatening.

"It's easier to trust, say, a traitor, if you know to check for a knife at your back."

He looks over to Adorei and winks.

"I speak from experience."

[Sticks]

Mask turns about, facing Walda. "A fair question, dashing one. If you are to be our new gaolers and companions, it is best if you should know our crime, for we do not deny it."

Rising up to their full height, Mask flexes their wings, filling the column of vapor.

"We formed an unnatural union of spirits, something unintended by our makers and abhorred by our peers. In doing so, we obtained power far in excess of our assigned stations, power enough to challenge the greatest of Heaven.We had the power, the support and the will to reshape the North in our image, and for that threat we were brought low by both chosen and gods, and sealed here. Holding a power to challenge the heavens, can you imagine such a crime? Little wonder our worship was forbidden, our titles erased. We were made anathema to heaven, and our purview was assigned to other, lesser gods." There is more than a hint of pride in the voices, and not a little indignation. "We have never relinquished our domain, though doing so may win us our freedom, should the Incarnae deign to hear our petition. We still hold that truth, our divine mandate is still that, OURS. Safe in that knowledge, we accept our bondage, for why chafe against restraint, knowing that should we one day be free, all that once was ours shall revert to our care again. Who would challenge such a fair, binding claim, especially backed by such might? None, we answer that question."

[Ascension]

Waldaharjaz laughs, hearty and full laughter. He misjudged this spirit! Mask still has its pride, after all.

"Now that is a transgression worth being proud of!" he shouts. "Such ambition may be counter to the laws of god and man, but it cannot be said that you defied the laws of nature. It is the way of power to be taken by any who is fit to claim it. I cannot blame you for taking your chance, and anyone who would is a hypocrite."

He shrugs.

"Nor can I blame the high gods for their response. It is the way of the mighty to be jealous of any challenger."

He shows his teeth again, and this time, his expression is certainly mirth.

"But I am sorry, Luna!" he shouts to the sky. "If this one is capable of challenging you when they are released, then you have only yourself to blame for letting the bear be fed all through the winter."

He nods to himself, making up his mind.

"I will help you, Mask, and from this day forward, whenever I and my Moonblades praise our goddess, we will also say a prayer for you. Mask, the Thief of Power!"

[pfm1995]

Adorei stands and listens, his face pensive. How quickly they slip into heresy. Still, it was at the very least a good lesson in how quickly allegiances shifted this far north, and in how much the leader of the bandits respected outright power. When he's ready, and the conversation has stilled, he steps forward. He doesn't bow. "You speak of the activation of the Realm Defense Grid, when she who would be the Scarlett Empress shattered the fey invasion and in so doing proved her worthiness to rule Creation." he said, his voice heavy. The mere mention of the fey armies had sent the whispers into paroxysms of wordless rage - he knew not why - but the event itself matched Imperial histories both official and not too closely to be anything else. "I fear, great spirit, that your information on the world outside your cell is woefully out of date. For manifest crimes and failings the chosen of the sun were judged unfit for rule and cast down. They are now hunted wherever they are found. Without their guidance, the chosen of Luna..." A small smirk comes to his face, quickly buried. "Well, you see the results before you. Base bandits, parasites feeding off the great works of others. And the chosen of the Dragons?"

He leaned in, looking up at the great feathered serpent and speaking with quiet fervor. "We protect Creation from its foes, inside and out. We build its roads. We make its laws. We rule. And, we are willing to help." And, really, how could he say no? This had grown beyond a nightmarish demand from the voices in his head, though even they pulsed with desire. The promise of manses, potentially untouched since the Shogunate if not longer still, was enough to wet his appetite and he could already picture the accolades, the stories, the prestige if he were able to bring such things into the family fold. All he had to do... all he had to do was outmaneuver three anathema and potentially a gestalt creature so great even their kind had seen fit to chain it. The thought was a dash of cold water on his dreams of glory, and he pulled himself back to the present. He had concessions to extract and wedges to place.

"Understand, where Dragons march they never do so alone. I pledge the full support of House Nellens, those parts of it that are mine to speak for. 'Ere long, we too will have need of friends in the North."

[Inspector Valin]

Mask lowers their head to stare the the Outlander in the face. They turn this way, then that, eyeing her from both sides of their face. Their tongue flicks out rapidly several times. Then they speak. "Yes, you are Nimbus, and yet you are not. The Nimbus we knew...well...he would have shown signs of age, even holding his shard as he did. He was the youngest of our gaolers, the little brother of his team, though he became a seasoned warrior very quickly. You hold his essence, his spark, we can see it in your eyes, taste it on your breath. It is like looking upon our old friend and knowing them to be a stranger...it brings us sadness and joy in equal measure. We cannot even say if you share his name, for Nimbus was a term of affection he earned from us...different though you may be, we feel no hesitation in allowing you to borrow his name. You will prove yourself his heir, and earn your own name."

Mask's carved face does not move, of course, but their body-language is almost regretful. "We are sorry we did not hold the answers you seek...perhaps we can aid you by other means."

A rumbling sound and a slight tremor shakes everyone present, then a geyser shoots out of the ground on the far side of the pillar, striking its underside. With a high cracking noise, the water solidifies into a block of ice, forming a new support for the basin. On approach, a small hole is visible, diamond-shaped and filled with swirling clear lake-water that does not spill, as it is being held in place by a whirlind identical to the one outside, save in scale. "This cell is a font of power, and in his day, Nimbus was attuned to it. The grandeur is somewhat lessened of late, but restoring our connection to the outlying manses and demenses will alleviate that. Our new friend, Nimbus, please consider this your home, if you would have it."

Mask's words resonate with the Outlander. Nimbus was a title, not a name. And it was the title of a man, one who had passed on long ago, who was not her. But who she was connected to. The mantle of power she holds isn't hers, but something with its own legacy and history to it. That's the 'spark', she can feel it. Another history she doesn't know.

But that's not the spirit's fault. Far from it, Mask has been nothing but accommodating. The Outlander, Nimbus as was, places a hand reverently upon the support, looking up at the would be Greatest of Gods with warmth. "Thanks, Mask. I'll do my best to be as gracious a guest as Nimbus was. Even if I'm not him, I'd like to learn more about him and his old friends, if you're willing to share stories of their day." Even if she can't learn more about her own past, that of her predecessor will give her something to focus on on the meantime.

Adorei stands and listens, his face pensive. How quickly they slip into heresy. Still, it was at the very least a good lesson in how quickly allegiances shifted this far north, and in how much the leader of the bandits respected outright power. When he's ready, and the conversation has stilled, he steps forward. He doesn't bow. "You speak of the activation of the Realm Defense Grid, when she who would be the Scarlett Empress shattered the fey invasion and in so doing proved her worthiness to rule Creation." he said, his voice heavy. The mere mention of the fey armies had sent the whispers into paroxysms of wordless rage - he knew not why - but the event itself matched Imperial histories both official and not too closely to be anything else. "I fear, great spirit, that your information on the world outside your cell is woefully out of date. For manifest crimes and failings the chosen of the sun were judged unfit for rule and cast down. They are now hunted wherever they are found. Without their guidance, the chosen of Luna..." A small smirk comes to his face, quickly buried. "Well, you see the results before you. Base bandits, parasites feeding off the great works of others. And the chosen of the Dragons?"

"Wait, what Decks said is true? Your people hunt the 'Chosen'?"

Outlander looks a little surprised at that. The pale man had seemed grateful to her for the help, which'd left her discounting Fluffy's words somewhat. She takes a second to set this straight in her head, before laughing. "Should've figured I guess. First time I find people not mad at me because they assume I'm like the Bull... And it's because you hate whatever I am even more!" She can't help but find this honestly hilarious, almost bent double with a belly laugh. She glances to Walda and Decks, new understanding in her eyes. Oh great spirits of the North, the way things turn out.

[Malozing]

"I fear, great spirit, that your information on the world outside your cell is woefully out of date. For manifest crimes and failings the chosen of the sun were judged unfit for rule and cast down. They are now hunted wherever they are found. Without their guidance, the chosen of Luna..." A small smirk comes to his face, quickly buried. "Well, you see the results before you. Base bandits, parasites feeding off the great works of others. And the chosen of the Dragons?"

"The Realm, for all its 'morality,' took the ancestral homeland of the Kathaashi tribe." Decks growls. "You didn't take it because of the Chosen among our people. We had none back then. You just wanted to throw your might around and take good lands. I don't hate you because you are Dragonblooded and I am one of Luna's Chosen. I hate you for making my people wander for generations, homeless and hungry.”

"Wait, what Decks said is true? Your people hunt the 'Chosen'?"

Decks snorts. “You are such a kitten.”

[pfm1995]

"Should've figured I guess. First time I find people not mad at me because they assume I'm like the Bull... And it's because you hate whatever I am even more!"

"Don't prescribe to me what the Immaculate Order teaches." Adorei replies, annoyance touching his voice."Times are changing, and for them that is long overdue. Besides," he grins - Make ͞i͘t̀ ͘to͜u͏ch ͡yo͝ur͠ èyes͡,̡ ȩl̛se̕ ̢ţheỳ w͡ill̷ ͠s̨ee how̵ mu̕ch̸ ̷y̴oư ha͜te ̢th̕e҉m̷ - "you're by far the most pleasant anathema I've met thus far."

Speaking of...

"The Kathaashi? Hm, never heard of them. But isn't that your philosophy, or your friend's there?" he asks, gesturing at Walda. "Your ancestors were strong enough to hold their land, and you were not. To the victor the spoils. By his standard, you're a hipocrite."

Wedges, glorious wedges. Adorei shrugged. "Myself, I sympathise. We dragons too often discount ordinary humanity, to our detriment."

[Inspector Valin]

"But... you just gave the whole speech. Manifest crimes, hunted wherever they are found, Luna's chosen as parasites, bandits..."

The Outlander seems to have overlooked Adorei's compliment in sheer confusion, trying to square it with her reading of the Dragon Blooded's earlier remarks. It didn't sound like he disagreed with his people's stance on the Chosen... except he did? Had she missed something? Sighing, she tries to work through her thoughts aloud, "So isn't that what you believe? Why not? And what's the 'Immaculate Order', anyway? Are they your rivals or something?"

She seems like she could go on in this vein for a while. Before Adorei can actually answer any of these questions, the traveller turns to a different topic, seeming to seize on it as a matter of vital importance, gesturing around the assembly while smiling at the Dynast once again. "Also, you're the one person here whose name I don't know! We've got Waldaharjaz, Decks and Mask, and you can call me whatever you want. What's your name?"

[Sticks]

Mask writhes with obvious delight. "Ah, friendly bickering! Yes, you shall all become quite close, we can tell!"

[Malozing]

Decks bounds in between the Outlander and Adorei, teeth becoming more pointed.

"Oh, we became stronger thanks to Rukhsara-Who-Remembers and her moon blessed wisdom. Though, it seems you and the rest of the Dynasts forgotten how to fight when it's not against those powerless against you." Decks' tail lashes side to side almost violently. "You take advantage of a kitten's naive mind. Twisting words to make sure you are never at fault and always seen as righteous. Never willing to bleed in the hunt for a challenge. You just pay or enslave others to bleed for you."

[Ascension]

Waldaharjaz wants to object to the Dynast's characterization of him as the other Lunar's (Decks's... the man's name is "Decks," apparently, judging from what Sunshine just said...) friend, but, in a rare moment of self-restraint, he deems it prudent not to invite antagonism from his peer if none is volunteered. Anyway, if this "Rukhsara-Who-Remembers" is Decks's shahan-ya, then at least his foremost allegiance isn't to Pellervo.

"Don't call the fox a 'parasite' for raiding the henhouse if you've taken away all the fox's hunting grounds," Walda chides the Dynast, reversing the man's attempt to turn Walda's invocation of the laws of nature into pro-Realm sentiment. "You can't absolve the all-consuming hunger of the Realm as something natural and then condemn those of us out here in the Threshold for trying to bleed its flanks before it finishes gobbling up all the food we're hungry for."

Walda snorts a crude laugh.

"Unless accusations of hypocrisy follow the 'he who smelt it, dealt it' rule."

[pfm1995]

"But... you just gave the whole speech. Manifest crimes, hunted wherever they are found, Luna's chosen as parasites, bandits..."

The Outlander seems to have overlooked Adorei's compliment in sheer confusion, trying to square it with her reading of the Dragon Blooded's earlier remarks. It didn't sound like he disagreed with his people's stance on the Chosen... except he did? Had she missed something? Sighing, she tries to work through her thoughts aloud, "So isn't that what you believe? Why not? And what's the 'Immaculate Order', anyway? Are they your rivals or something?"

She seems like she could go on in this vein for a while. Before Adorei can actually answer any of these questions, the traveller turns to a different topic, seeming to seize on it as a matter of vital importance, gesturing around the assembly while smiling at the Dynast once again. "Also, you're the one person here whose name I don't know! We've got Waldaharjaz, Decks and Mask, and you can call me whatever you want. What's your name?"

"I speak of how things are, not necessarily how I wish them to be." Adorei said, stressing the word. He sighed. "You're not used to dissembling," he said, "so let me be so bold as to offer some advice. Wearing your opinions like clothing is an invitation to scrutiny you will eventually regret. I've known you all for less then an hour and two of you have threatened to kill me. Am I to open my heart to you? I'm giving freely knowledge you will need to talk to people without killing - take it as the gift it is intended as. As for your questions: the Immaculate Order is the caretaker of the state religion of the Realm, and is a powerful political, economic, and cultural force. One of their many duties is the hunting down and killing of anathema such as yourself. And my name is Nellens Adorei - that is, I am of House Nellens, one of the ten great houses of the Scarlet Dynasty."

"Oh, we became stronger thanks to Rukhsara-Who-Remembers and her moon blessed wisdom. Though, it seems you and the rest of the Dynasts forgotten how to fight when it's not against those powerless against you." Decks' tail lashes side to side almost violently. "You take advantage of a kitten's naive mind. Twisting words to make sure you are never at fault and always seen as righteous. Never willing to bleed in the hunt for a challenge. You just pay or enslave others to bleed for you."

Deck's last statement throws him off guard, and he blinks before finding words again. "Well... yes. That's how things are supposed to work. Division of labor is a vital part of administering any group of sufficient size - I don't expect my best strategist to be my best warrior, or vice versa, and beyond a certain threshold any additional military might is a frank waste. We allow that extra manpower to specialize in peacetime pursuits, in order to create an economy not reliant on constant expansion, consumption, warfare and death. This means that, yes, we must pay others to police us, to fight our wars, but the whole is enriched by this, not weakened. Indeed, this is the central value proposition of the Realm's satrap system; by offloading the majority of their military and bureaucratic institutional labor onto the Realm, Realm satraps can devote that much larger a measure of their economy to occupations which actually add value." All quoted almost word for word from Tepet Najaras' excellent On the Economic Foundations of the Realm, With Suggestions For Improvement, not that he could expect some barbarian anathema to have read that. For one, it had been banned by Imperial censors almost two-hundred years ago. For another, Adorei doubted the anathema could read.

"Don't call the fox a 'parasite' for raiding the henhouse if you've taken away all the fox's hunting grounds," Walda chides the Dynast, reversing the man's attempt to turn Walda's invocation of the laws of nature into pro-Realm sentiment. "You can't absolve the all-consuming hunger of the Realm as something natural and then condemn those of us out here in the Threshold for trying to bleed its flanks before it finishes gobbling up all the food we're hungry for."

Walda snorts a crude laugh.

"Unless accusations of hypocrisy follow the 'he who smelt it, dealt it' rule."

Wrinkling his nose appropriately at the crude humor, Adorei's gaze shifted back to the Outlander. This argument wasn't with Walda, not really, and he needed to be paying attention to its effects on her. "This is exactly why I condemn you, call you parasite - not because you feed on us but because you produce nothing of value in return, bandit. How many have you killed, for the crime of being nearby when you were hungry? How many lives have you ruined, for greed and pride? How many crimes have gone unsolved, fey raids gone unchecked, because we had to waste time and men putting down animals like you?"

[Sticks]

Mask glides serenely back and fourth as the debate rages before them. When there's a pause in Adorei's flurry of rebuttals, the enigmatic spirit chimes in.

"Well, dragon-prince, it seems you have your answer. Your empire seems to be teetering on the brink of an abyss, by your reckoning. You speak of bolstering your clan's standing? Why not establish a bastion here, in the tundra with these other Chosen? We'll admit, our prison is hardly habitable for all but the hardiest and most abstemious Chosen, but it need not be that way. With enough power from the other manses, we shall fashion an abode worthy of such enlightened company, and capable of supporting your retinues. The lake, the scrub-trees, they are the foundations from which we shall build. Does this appeal to you? One of your obvious leadership skills could see the advantage of a power-base in otherwise unclaimed land, if the prayer-city of Whitewall still stands, then few amenities of civilization should be lost to you, with a few weeks' travel...of course, such living can be dangerous, but then, we would guess you are not afraid of 'roughing it', or you would never be here."

[Ascension]

'Animals like you' draws a rise out of Walda. He visibly bristles, balls his fists, bares his teeth. Mask's attempt to recruit the assistance of Adorei's whole House doesn't help. But he stops himself short of rash action, which would only fuel Adorei's prejudices. Instead, he strikes back with words.

"Yes, I take from others to survive. But you're no less of a predator, are you, Dynast? You say I 'produce nothing of value'? Tell me, have you ever farmed a field? Have you ever built a wall? Tanned hides? Sewn clothes? Built a boat? Put hands on an oar? Have you ever done any labor with your hands? I'd wager you haven't, the way you boast how your precious 'economy' helps you profit off the work of others."

He steps in front of Adorei, glaring the Dynast in the face.

"If I'm a parasite, so are you. The only difference is that I don't pretend I'm not a bandit. I don't disguise theft behind pretty words like 'tribute' and 'taxation,' or pretend that 'administration' is honest work."

[Inspector Valin]

"I speak of how things are, not necessarily how I wish them to be." Adorei said, stressing the word. He sighed. "You're not used to dissembling," he said, "so let me be so bold as to offer some advice. Wearing your opinions like clothing is an invitation to scrutiny you will eventually regret. I've known you all for less then an hour and two of you have threatened to kill me. Am I to open my heart to you? I'm giving freely knowledge you will need to talk to people without killing - take it as the gift it is intended as. As for your questions: the Immaculate Order is the caretaker of the state religion of the Realm, and is a powerful political, economic, and cultural force. One of their many duties is the hunting down and killing of anathema such as yourself. And my name is Nellens Adorei - that is, I am of House Nellens, one of the ten great houses of the Scarlet Dynasty."

"Why do you think I need to 'dissemble'? You can say whatever you like, but I don't have to hide my heart from you. And how I talk to people isn't what got any of us fighting."

The words aren't said harshly, more out of curiosity and with a warm look. Hiding emotions and feelings shouldn't be nessecary. The Outlander still seems more than a little confused by Adorei and his approach, but his willingness to share information about the Realm keeps her attentive. Even at the fact that the Immaculate Order hunts 'anathema like her', she smiles. Gaining more information is always helpful, and she doesn't think Adorei is lying about any of this. If he were, she's two hostile Chosen of Luna beside her who would call him out very happily.

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

"It's like the Icewalkers and the city folk."

The discussion over the Realm has the Outlander's attention, even if she seems reluctant to take a side. When she finally speaks up, she glances between Adorei and Walda, taking a long breath before beginning to slowly explain her analogy. "Both of you have sort of the same argument the tribes and settlers always have. Walda wants to live without the limits and rules of civilization, a world where the strong survive alone through their strength and have the freedom to make whatever choices they want. Adorei is tied back by his way of life and house and all that stuff... in return for the potential to accomplish bigger things. Instead of freedom, he thinks about resources and politics and what other people think."

"You will always disagree about this. But what's that argument worth? We're all Mask's allies. We could all work together to build something here. You can't manage restoration and delicate Old World stuff with just your fighters, Walda. And Adorei and his explorers were reliant on local guides. Add on Decks' local knowledge and my muscle and we should have all we need to help restore Mask's manse and the others to what they used to be. Is it really worth losing that because you don't like each other's way of living?" The warrior grins. To her that seems silly, and she's not doing this for any of those reasons. She's just here because she should try and help Mask not starve.

Plus it would be nice to have a place to sleep. Wandering's not gotten me very far. If I'm going to find out anything about my past, I should probably try harder to work out where I'm going next.

[pfm1995]

Adorei arches a single eyebrow at Mask. "Your value is well understood to me, and I thank you deeply for your kind offer. We will have to speak further on this, once we have a more developed working relationship." He leaves aside the thorny problem of Whitewall, and the gods assumption of the state of the Realm, for now. That could wait.

"Well, of course I understand that working together is the only viable option moving forward." he says in response to the Outlander. Further lectures on the necessity of holding your tongue could wait - perhaps it would even be worthwhile to arrange a more practical lesson, to ensure that the consequences are not too crippling. Food for thought. "Though I think your definition of 'freedom' rather different than mine. The demands of nature are few, but they are unyielding, and freedom from consequence is neither virtue nor grace." Even the dead, so long removed from nature's call that they can scarce remember what it was to be hungry, are slaves to the consequences of their actions. "Nevertheless," he said, now addressing the whole group, "there are more practical questions still to answer. Where are we to be going, and how are we to get there? Without a stop in some form of civilization along the way, my own resources will be vastly more limited than they otherwise would be."

[Sticks]

Mask slowly wraps themself into a loose coil, forming a pyramid of effervescent snake-scales and white bone. Their wings folded, they look soberly at Adorei. "A good question, dragon-prince. We must have a minimum of five points of power, including our cell, to receive adequate sustenance now we are awake. However, it would not be unlikely that the Fae Prince who took the fifth chosen has discerned the purpose of the shards you possess. He will lick his wounds, then make a move. We can survive a little longer on the power we borrow from this Manse, but while he possesses the shard, the Fae Prince may always come here, and use his shard to redirect the cell's power. If that happened, we would wither into nothing, and our ancient knowledge would be lost, your journey here for nothing. If you can, find the Fae Prince's camp, take back the shard so that we will not be threatened, and we shall make this place safe for your entourage."

They paused, tongue flicking. "Alas, we know not where the fae would be encamped. Connecting the manses would expand our view, making allies would give us information, but at the moment, we are severely limited."

[Inspector Valin]

"So we should act quickly. We need to connect a manse to you before Prince Eiderdown decides he's confident enough to try and come back here, and ideally ask around to see if anyone's seen a fae army wandering about the middle of the tundra."

The Outlander frowns, glancing to Walda and Adorei. "You both have people to worry about. How set are you for supplies? You'd be helped if you could restock, I know, but if pushed to it could your groups be able to travel further away from civilization? Or would it be better to ask them to return first?" Regardless of the answer to that, she looks back up to Mask. "Can you provide us a rough map of where we should look for these other manses? We could find them ourselves with time, but I'd rather not take chances."

[pfm1995]

"I planned supplies enough for a journey here and back, plus an additional week in the event of poor weather or other delays. That all assumes my supplies are still my own, however." Adorei says, casting a glance at Walda.

[Ascension]

"My men can forage, with or without the help of your stores," Walda says, echoing Adorei's look. "They can take care of themselves."

In truth, the Moonblades' numbers are large enough that hunting and gathering is a less than ideal means of support, and Walda had been eager to take a share of the Nellens expedition's supplies, but his people are survivors. If need be, they can endure hardship.

"In fact... Mask. Should I leave my Moonblades here to guard you for the meantime, until we are able to locate the Fae prince's stronghold? They are no Exalts, but they are as tough as, or tougher than, any mortal men and women I have known."

[Malozing]

Decks snorts and stretches. “You come into the wilderness with supplies, but you don’t know how to hunt and forage for food. Stupid. At least the kitten seems to know how to survive out here. Funny that the 'parasites' don't need your supplies, isn't it.”

He pops more catmint into his mouth. “I am all for hunting Pissy Pant right now, and I like your idea of having Mask protected while we are away, Walda.”

[pfm1995]

Adorei sighed. Mentally, he prepared himself to have to repeat everything a few times for the immediate future. "As I explained," he managed, "I had hired people to do that for me - people you and yours then scared away."

[Sticks]

Mask has settled into their coils, but they regard Adorei with a reassuring air. "Fret not, fret not. Success often acts as honeyed snow to early spring flies. Every attendant lost will be replaced, as long as you keep your friends close, for they are irreplaceable."

This statement is followed by a moment of silence as Mask concentrates. The ivory-feathered head is visibly shaking with effort, and then relaxes, the coils loosening after a great effort. In Decks hand, the white stone is pulsing gently with green light. As the rest of the Exalts check their stones, they find that they share the glow.

"Pant..pant... We have attuned your Shrinelink stones to the first demense...Life-Link is yours. You will travel to Frozen Glade, and use a stone there to attune the essence of Wood to one of you...and to us. This demense is one of the few that has not shifted, so its position is known to us as we are. Link more Shrines, and our awareness will expand. If this demense is linked...the dragon-line of Wood will sustain this land, and those who would dwell within."