[Actual Play] Exalted: The Sidereals - The Dimming of the Stars [Archive]

Beri

11-30-2004, 01:14 AM

Session 1: Water Runs Freely

Fas'rial, Zahara, Elentari, and Kara were all Exalted approximately around the same time. After completing their training in Yu-Shan, they were each individually called to the Loom of Fate.

Travelling the canals, able to use the gold channel due to their summons, they each arrived at the Loom in turn, meeting with two Sidereals who would become important to them: Caelan, their new supervisor (of sorts), and Salesh Enoi, one of the few (perhaps the only) living members of the Directional Convention of Wood.

They made some brief greetings, as Enoi was anxious to give them their first assignment, so that they might be officially acknowledged as members of the Directional Convention of Wood. He didn't speak at any great length about himself, the Sidereals, or the Directional Convention.

Falcon Stone, a fisherman in the Nighthammer district of Nexus, had fallen into the Yellow River and drowned. He then went home to his wife. For some reason, the normal flow of cause and effect had failed, and the Sidereals were being sent out to set the course of events right and investigate what had gone wrong.

Five Sidereals left the Loom of Fate - Fas'rial, Kara, Zahara, Caelan, and Elentari. But only two arrived at the gate which would lead into Nexus. Fas'rial and Kara were met by Ayesha Ura, introducing herself as the head of the Gold Faction. Although the new Sidereals had expressed leanings towards the way of Gold, it was still too early to know their deeper political leanings. Still, she greeted them cordially, giving them their official mission statement.

She also mentioned two other Sidereals already operating in Nexus, likewise on a test mission to gain full acceptance into the Directional Convention. Neither Gold nor Bronze yet, Ayesha asked Fas'rial and Kara to find these Sidereals and work with them - and also to deliver a contagious Resplendent Destiny to them. Fas'rial and Kara would be given the Destiny of the Gull. Although affecting other Sidereals with Astrology was normally forbidden, Enoi had apparantly worked out an agreement with the Pattern Spiders to cover these new Sidereals - and suffered no small bit of Paradox in the process.

With a gesture and a flash, Ayesha opened the gate to Creation, and Fas'rial and Kara stepped through.

Already in Nexus were Iadas Ipparrion and Merciless Constable of Heaven's Mandate. Like their fellows, they were resolving a fairly minor twist in fate - a woman's shop in the Nighthammer district needed to be moved one street South. By doing so, a noble passing by would wander in, and examine a cheap glass gem, and the glint of the sun would throw off the aim of an assassin, and so on. But the shop had arisen in the wrong place.

Iadas and Merciless split up their duties - Iadas began sowing a seed of worry in the woman's mind, causing her to consider moving her shop - while Merciless scouted out the Southern street for shops conducting illegal activities, then inspired the local authorities to investigate. Tracking down the landlord of the shops in the Bastion district, he terrified the young noble, demanding that he only sell to the woman who would come by the next day. Although the memory of the conversation surely slipped from his mind, the effect remained to be seen.

Fas'rial and Kara emerged in a dark, damp, dusty ruin, surrounded by bugs and foul smells. They had entered the ancient city of Hollow, where the priceless gate to Yu-Shan sat forgotten among the ruins. Anxious to avoid spending any more time there, they hustled up to the main city of Nexus, where the scent improved, if only slightly.

Nexus was a far cry from Yu-Shan. The heavenly city was clean and efficient, filled with important beings from all corners of the world. Nexus was dirty, teeming with the scum of humanity, clamoring and grunting for a few slivers of jade. The Nighthammer district, where Falcon Stone was reported to live, was run-down, even by Nexus standards.

Questioning a few locals, the Sidereals faced confusing results. Half the people they spoke to mourned Falcon Stone as dead, and half cheerfully commented on his lucky life. They seemed not to notice their own contradictions.

Anxious to cover more ground, Fas'rial and Kara split ways. Fas'rial bravely took a swim in the Yellow River, seeking any magic that might have allowed Falcon Stone to survive. Finally, he released his breath, allowing the dirty water of the Yellow to fill his lungs - yet he did not drown. The laws of Creation were unmistakably broken.

Kara went to speak to Falcon Stone and his wife, Falcon Emerald. She was welcomed in as a weary traveller, still hiding behind the Destiny of the Gull. Falcon Stone knew little of his condition, merely counting himself excessively lucky, and thanking the gods of the river both through shrine and prayer. As Kara left him, he warned her of the Four Brothers Gang, who patrolled this section of Nighthammer.

Puzzled for the moment, the Sidereals checked their mission statement, which mentioned the god of the Yellow River, Wuni-Yan. They found a makeshift temple to the god, and set about to make preparations for a grand prayer to get the god's attention. Along the way, Fas'rial suggested that rather than Wuni-Yan, they pray to the lesser god of the Nexus docks - Simlaon.

As they prepared their prayer, the doors flew open. In strode six members of the Four Brothers Gang, demanding 'protection fees' and 'temple payment'. Fas'rial lured their leader close, holding out a minor coin...then grabbed his wrist and flipped him over his head, and onto Fas'rial's starmetal boot. The mortal dissolved into a spray of red paste and bone, which coated the walls and ceiling of the small shrine. Fas'rial looked upon the work of his own power in horror - truly, it was the first time since their Exaltation that Kara and Fas'rial had been in battle against mortals, and their tremendous power would take some getting used to.

Overhearing the battle, the Merciless Constable entered the temple with a shout and a swing of his starmetal baton, severing one of the thugs at the waist and sending his upper body sailing into the ceiling. They fell to their knees, praying for forgiveness. One foolishly rushed at Kara, who smoothly lifted him over her head and slammed him into unconsciousness. He was lucky to escape with his arm still attached to his body.

Recognizing the others as Sidereal, the Constable, Fas'rial, and Kara filled each other in on their respective missions. Merciless Constable left to check on the progress of the shopkeeper's move, while Fas'rial and Kara continued their prayer to Simlaon. The prayer was successful, and the power of their respect poured into heaven...yet there was no response from Simlaon. Either the god was absent, or simply ignoring the prayer. Either way, it gave them a new focus for their investigation.

Desperate for answers, Fas'rial wrote up several prayer strips to various gods and heavenly officials, including Ruvia, head of his division, and Wuni-Yan, god of the Yellow River. In a small fire, these prayers were burned, their messages floating up to heaven. One stayed longer than the others - the strip to Wuni-Yan burned slowly and shone brightly.

As they watched the fire blaze, they felt a great presence enter the room...they felt light, as if immersed in water, and damp. From the air, a great figure materialized before them, standing nearly 20 feet tall. His body was made from the foam at the base of the waterfall, and he wrapped himself in a golden robe made from the sunlight that falls upon the Yellow River. He introduced himself as Wuni-Yan.

For all his majesty, Wuni-Yan was of only moderate help. He could not solve their problem; the waters of Nexus were the duty of Simlaon. He could, however, offer two important services: first, summoning the final Sidereal they sought, and second, reopening the gateway to Yu-Shan under Nexus so they might return. To earn these services, though, Wuni-Yan requested a minor favor in the future. But what is minor to a god?

Iadas still wandered the streets of Nighthammer, when a great fog descended around him, drifting in from the Yellow River at Wuni-Yan's request. All directions disappeared into a haze...except one. Following this path, he was led to the gates of the temple, and Fas'rial and Kara filled him in on their mission. They agreed that it would be auspicious to combine their efforts when possible.

Having done as much as they could in Nexus, Fas'rial led his companions back to the undercity of Hollow, where Wuni-Yan promised to meet them, and reopen the gate to Yu-Shan.

- End of session -

voidstate

11-30-2004, 02:49 AM

Wow! Cool session summary. When do we get more?

voidstate

PS Must remember that slicing someone in half with a blunt object to demonstrate how strong I am stunt... :D

Beri

11-30-2004, 11:43 AM

Wow! Cool session summary. When do we get more?

voidstate

PS Must remember that slicing someone in half with a blunt object to demonstrate how strong I am stunt... :D

I run weekly, every Monday. Although there may be a gap coming up during the school's winter break.

For that fight scene, I specifically asked my players, 'Are you hitting him full-force?' Martial arts training + Starmetal weapons + extras = Fine red mist.

Gizmit

11-30-2004, 12:34 PM

New to Exalted and they're playing Siderials? You must have an excellent group!

Beri

11-30-2004, 01:03 PM

New to Exalted and they're playing Siderials? You must have an excellent group!

They are a good group, yeah. I haven't found Sidereals to be much more complicated than the other Exalts, though - if anything, the structure in heaven makes it easier, since I can more easily give them mission statements, advice from NPC superiors, rewards, etc. I always had more of a problem STing Solars, where there was often a question of 'okay, we're incredibly powerful. What do we do?'

Character creation's been a bit of a hassle, especially with all the extra Charms, Backgrounds, and points that Sidereals get, as well as having to explain Astrology. But the important thing is, everyone loves their character, and everyone seems to like the idea of being 'enforcers of destiny'.

voidstate

11-30-2004, 02:05 PM

If they're having trouble with astrology, I made a flowchart thing that makes it a bit clearer. There's a link on my website: www.voidstate.com/rpg :)

voidstate

Beri

11-30-2004, 02:13 PM

If they're having trouble with astrology, I made a flowchart thing that makes it a bit clearer. There's a link on my website: www.voidstate.com/rpg :)

voidstate

I'm actually already using that PDF when possible! It's quite profoundly helpful. The problem on the players' part is more in understanding what astrology is, what the Colleges do, what it means to have a Resplendent Destiny, etc. I imagine that'll clear up as they get some time to play around with the system (especially in a few sessions when we do IC 'Astrology Training'.)

Mengtzu

11-30-2004, 02:14 PM

This is cool! I'll do my best to keep up with the Actual Play.

Beri

12-07-2004, 02:03 AM

Session 2: The Waters of Heaven

Characters present: All of them! Hooray for attendance!
Note: A series of typos kept 'Kara' and 'Kyra' switching back and forth. The character's name is now Kara Laditaken.

After receiving her mission from Salesh Enoi, Caelan returned to her heavenly home. Rather than heading directly to Creation, she decided to weave a change to the fate of Falcon Stone's wife, Falcon Emerald - shifting her star into the constellation of The Ewer, encouraging her fertility, and hopefully inciting a pregnancy without too much Paradox. The Pattern Spiders were merciful to her, making note of a single point of Paradox in her celestial file. The Contagious Destiny was laid upon her, waiting for her to touch Falcon Emerald and transfer the Destiny.

Down in Nexus, Fas'rial led his fellows through the dark undercity of Hollow, returning them to the gate which had originally led them to heaven. As promised, Wuni-Yan opened the door for them.

In Yu-Shan, Caelan, Zahara, and Elentari gathered at the gate to Creation, marveling at its craftsmanship - and the fact that not a single one of them knew the correct spell to open it. As they waited, the doorway bubbled, then burst open, sending a bright foamy cascade of water across the pathway before the gate. When the water had dissolved into wisps of steam, Fas'rial, Kara, Merciless, and Iadas again stood amongst the pillars of heaven. Fas'rial took the opportunity to pass the spell that Ayesha Ura had given him over to Elentari, and she began studying to Open the Spirit's Door.

Iadas sent a wisp of essence out as a spider, and it soon returned to him with a piece of information he sought - the location of the manse of Simlaon. With Fas'rial at the rudder, they set out to either confront this god, or find out why he was missing.

For about eight hours, they sailed, Fas'rial guiding the dragon boat through the canals of Yu-Shan. Over a thousand miles later (and a quick stop for Caelan to bargain for some ambrosia), they had arrived in front of the manse of Simlaon, only forty miles from the main halls of the Bureau of Nature. It was a structure of moderate excellence (as such things go in Yu-Shan), featuring beautiful fountains which sprayed water down, which then fell up - and down again, as rain. The grounds of this manse were slick ice, as reflective as a mirror.

The Merciless Constable and Kara circled around the back of the manse, seeking a path to ambush the god if things went poorly. Their signal would be a bird, either Caelan's raiton or Fas'rial's scroll-bird, flying from the door of the manse.

Caelan approached, bearing ambrosia, and two doormen formed from the icy surface, crossing ephemeral spears as the Sidereals approached. Sweet as Caelan's words were, they could not drive a crack into the hearts of Simlaon's servants. Iadas motioned her back, and began to weave a great tale of men who were of the sea, and of a great conch shell that made them into the first seals. So great was his tale that it melted the heart of the doorman, who would forever remember the glory of the tale that Iadas told. (A good roll on Song of Spirit Persuasion, followed by spending XP to make it permanent. Iadas writes down Spirit Ally: Simlaon's Door Guard. Kick ass.)

Stepping within the manse, they found it dark, lit by myriad sparkles mimicing the night sky. Seven spheres of water bounded around in the air, shooting thin arcs of lightning between them. In the center was the god of the Nexus Docks, Simlaon, roiling with black water and seething on his floating throne.

A few of the Sidereals realized something while gazing up at Simlaon - this fellow was much bigger than any minor god has a right to be. Could it merely be the prayers of fishermen which had bloated him to such a size?

Some negotation followed, with Simlaon getting more and more incensed, and the Sidereals not really getting anywhere - for they really had nothing concrete to use against him. Finally, the idea dawned to one of them - even if they had nothing, surely his crimes were recorded in the tomes of heaven! Caelan stepped forward, declaring her intent to begin a Celestial Audit.

Now that got him going.

Simlaon reeled back, his hand crackling with lightning. Before he could strike, Fas'rial leapt across the skin of the watery spheres, delivering a fierce Flying Mantis Kick to the god's body. Simlaon split in half with no more force than a falling raindrop, both halves merging with the water spheres floating around the manse. A thunderbolt leapt out, striking Fas'rial harshly in the body and sending him sprawling. Zahara attempted to hurl a knife at one of the spheres, but it simply tumbled through and fell out the other side, as ineffective as trying to defeat a lake by stabbing it. (Note to my players: In the manse, Simlaon was immune to Lethal damage.)

Kaloo, the scroll-bird, and the raiton fled from the manse together, alerting Merciless and Kara of trouble inside. They raced toward the entrance.

Iadas gazed upwards, at the few shafts of sunlight barely wafting in through the high spires of the manse. Fortunately, the Unconquered Sun was winning the Games of Divinity at that moment. Raising his bow to sight the sphere where Simlaon was hiding, he brought to mind the mantras of the Generalized Ammunition Technique, and nocked a shaft of sunlight onto his bowstring. He let the golden, immaterial arrow fly, and it struck the sphere, sending sizzling drops of water dancing like raindrops on a hot skillet. The manse resounded with Simlaon's scream.

Instantly, the balls of water rushed to fill the center of the manse, combining before erupting vertically from the central spire of the building. Merciless had nearly entered the building when he saw the sky above it explode in a massive wave of filthy water, leaving a rain of Nexus slime below it as Simlaon dove towards another domain he could exert control over - the Yu-Shan canals.

Merciless narrowed his eyes at this affront to justice, beginning his Inevitable Pursuit. The other Exalted, lacking his insight into the path Simlaon was taking, decided to again take control of the dragon boat that had brought them here, guiding it along the canals in pursuit. Fas'rial called upon the powers of the Black Flame of Mirrored Destiny, the shapechanging sash he wore. With a mere thought to the Unconquered Sun, his sleeves erupted in golden shimmering fabric, and he took flight in pursuit of Simlaon.

The offending god landed on a speeding dragon boat, with Fas'rial landing close behind him. Immediately, the canal twisted itself to his desire. Both sides of the canal, including the gold lane, flowed in one direction - straight toward the Bureau of Nature. From the quicksilver depths rose a dozen dragon boats, awakened by Simlaon's forced command over the canal.

The race was on. If Simlaon were to arrive even five seconds earlier than they at the Bureau of Heaven, he could conceal his crimes, and all the Sidereals' work would be for naught.

Kara first moved into melee distance, leaping from the boat the Sidereals had commandeered, to another, and finally to the same boat Simlaon stood atop of. Merciless soon joined her and Fas'rial, leaping from a bridge onto the boat, at the same time as Caelan used her staff to pole-vault onto that same boat. Now trapped with four Sidereals, Simlaon gambled on a risky assault. Leaping high into the air as the boat passed under the bridge, he shattered the supports with bursts of razor-sharp water, sending the five-ton mass hurtling toward the boat he had previously occupied.

Seeing death tumble towards him, Fas'rial decided now would be a good time to Duck Fate. Kara and Caelan shielded themselves, taking some damage as debris showered down around them. But the Merciless Constable had a plan - twirling his starmetal serpent sting staff, feeling the Blade of the Battle Maiden flow through him, he parried the boat, sending it sailing into the air, skidding across the top of the falling bridge and soaring for a few long seconds before crashing into the quicksilver below.

Simlaon landed on the surface of the canal itself, running as smoothly as a mortal might handle a finely-made road. In his wake, minor elementals began rising out of the canal - elementals of dirty water, rather than quicksilver. Mounting her tiger familiar, Elentari climbed over the wreckage, grabbed Caelan, and charged after Simlaon, striking a blow against him with her Horrific Wreath. Unfortunately, one of the elementals rose up and tore her off her tiger, sending her plunging into the quicksilver below. Another quick attack, and Zahara was in the canal.

In the silver depths below, strange tinkling voices came to the Sidereals - the true spirits of the canal, asking why their domain was no longer responding to them. They agreed to help the Sidereals overtake Simlaon, if they would simply break the surface of the quicksilver so that they might take control again. There was also the agreement of a small shrine in Creation, something to accomplish on a future mission.

The battle rushed onward, growing uncomfortably close to the Bureau of Nature. Was this one spirit a match for seven Sidereals? Was there any hope of stopping him in time? Just as doubts began to grow, two pillars of silver liquid erupted from the canal, one on each side of Simlaon. At their pinnacles stood Zahara and Elentari, guiding their new battle platforms against the offending spirit. The tide of battle had shifted.

Things went badly for Simlaon from here on out. A strong blow from Fas'rial sent him reeling, and Fas'rial found himself also in control of a silver pillar. Kara dove and spun at him, tearing his skin with her blade, and skidded across the surface of the canal. While she did not get a pillar, neither would the spirits allow her to drown in quicksilver. The Merciless Constable spun his staff in a whirring vortex, sailing across the quicksilver to land yet another telling blow to Simlaon, sending him to the edge of unconsciousness. (He was at -4, with only his Incapacitated box left.)

Caelan still sat atop Elentari's tiger, and made a final attempt to reach the Bureau before Simlaon. Seeing her ploy a moment too late, Simlaon sent a powerful arrow of water screaming at the elder Sidereal. With his leg guided by instinct, Fas'rial stepped between them, catching the arrow on his starmetal-armored leg - and being thrown dozens of yards in the air. Again he called to his shapechanging sash, and again the billowing fabric of his sleeves caught the wind and allowed him to glide to safety.

Elentari, magnificent mage that she is, sought a way to end the battle quickly, as the boats approached within a quarter-mile of the dock entrance of the Bureau of Nature. She called out to the spirits of Yu-Shan, seeking for elementals of earth to merge with this rogue god of water, hopefully making a slow-moving mass of mud. Fortunately, her Systematic Understanding of Everything gave her insight into persuasion, and the littlest gods came to her aid.

In front of the Bureau of Nature, they keep a small but extravagantly lovely garden, filled with the flowers of Creation. Each week, a different servant will go down to Creation, returning with a bucket of the purest water from Creation to encourage these blooms to thrive. It is said that Flashing Peak favors the iceblooms of the North, whose leaves always appear coated in frost, while Burnished Talon enjoys the rare Crimson Lotus of the South, known to be flammable and a fine substitution for firedust. The flowers of the East are glorious and large, thriving on the power of life, while the lilies of the West grow fat on the abundant water of the land. The garden of the Bureau is a real treasure.

At least it was, until the soil itself tore itself from the garden at Elentari's request and assaulted the rogue god Simlaon. Horribly tangled into a hideous, steaming mass of water and roots, the Sidereals calmly bypassed Simlaon and stepped onto the docks of the Bureau of Nature. They gave a quick glance at the canal behind them, having cut a swath of destruction five miles long, with dragon boats twisted and overturned, a bridge collapsed in the center of the stream, and various buildings and signposts having collapsed into the quicksilver from errant shots during the fighting. Hopefully Simlaon would take the full blame for this.

Behind the desk at the Bureau sat a beautiful woman with peacock feathers, a shimmering mass of blue and green. No sooner had they requested a Celestial Audit than Simlaon came bursting into the building, seething with rage, and slammed his fist onto the desk, declaring the entire situation an outrage and demanding to see his file. The woman smiled and responded, "I'm sorry, but that file has been closed due to a pending Celestial Audit. What else can I do for you?" The battle had been won. Simlaon, his waters boiling in anger, stomped out of the building, and the Sidereals let him go, knowing he was now powerless.

It was a quick matter to get another minor god to take control of the Nexus Docks for a few weeks until a formal audit could be performed of Simlaon. Still, many questions were unanswered. Why had Simlaon shirked his duty? How had he become a match for an entire Circle of Sidereals? Hopefully that file, sealed deep within the Celestial Bureaucracy, will bring some answers when it is revealed in a few weeks...or maybe it will bring more questions.

That being done, the Sidereals plan to head back to Creation, to finish the last loose end of their mission...but perhaps the hardest. Falcon Stone yet lives, an innocent man. And he must die.

- End of session -

SJE

12-07-2004, 02:41 AM

Just had a bit of Inspiration from yer game- Exalted:Fading Sun!

The Sun is fading, darkening, withdrawing from Creation. The Jade Pavilion is shut fast, the Incarna barred, the Unconquered Sun sits listless on his Throne.

Now his Chosen, the Siderals, the little gods and mortals must find out why and save the Sun. For if the sun goes out, so does Creation!

SJE

Mengtzu

01-27-2005, 01:11 AM

I'd just like to let everyone know two things.

1. People do follow links from sigs to Actual Plays, sometimes months later.

2. That canal fight was *badass*.

More, more!

Beri

01-27-2005, 01:21 AM

Thanks for noticing! Blame my players for being awesome. More of this should ensue shortly - maybe on January 31st, but more likely our next session will be February 7.

Beri

02-07-2005, 11:31 PM

Drat - I had about half the session summary typed up, and the internet ate it. More Sidereal action coming soon.

Beri

02-08-2005, 06:09 PM

I'm going to start doing this one bit-by-bit, so I can get through it before next week's session!

Session 3: Sink Like a Stone

Sidereals in attendance: Fas'rial, Zahara, Kara, and Caelan. Elentari came in halfway through the session.

Merciless's player got a new job, so he won't be joining us anymore. I haven't heard from Iadas's player, but word on the street is that he has improv on Mondays, and will likewise be bowing out.
---

When we last left our Sidereals, they had just called a Celestial Audit on Simlaon, the rogue god of the Nexus Docks. Now they could only wait, and hope that the Audit actually came up with something. Fas'rial, Kara, Caelan, and Zahara began the long journey back to the Nexus gate by dragon boat, contemplating their mission during the journey.

Caelan still wore a Contagious Destiny meant to increase the fertility of Falcon Emerald, but doubt was beginning to creep into her mind. From her past experiences in the Bureau of Destiny, she knew the folly of trying to change the course of fate - would her intentions, to give Falcon Emerald a child to care for after her husband's death, be a part of the greater weave of the world, or would they be just another snarl to be cut in time?

And of course, there was the matter of drowning Falcon Stone, the problem which started this whole mess. They figured that four Sidereals should be sufficient to handle a lone fisherman, and left Merciless, Iadas, and Elentari behind to watch over Simlaon as he returned to his manse. The rogue god was now powerless and defeated, but was still a threat due to his irrationality.

As they sailed, they realized that they still lacked the means to open the gates to heaven. Fas'rial, frustrated at the slow pace of his own efforts to learn the spell to Open The Spirit Door, sent off Kaloo, his scroll bird, with a prayer and petition to Ruvia, captain of the Golden Barque of the Heavens, for assistance. As the leader of the House of Journeys, he would surely be able to give them the aid they needed for their travels.

The reply came a few minutes after they reached the gate, as Kaloo came winging back with a prayer strip in his mouth, several feet long. Fas'rial looked it over, but because he either cannot speak or simply refuses to, he passed it over to Kara. As she read the script of the Old Realm, each word burst into a heatless flame as she spoke it. As the last syllable was pronounced, the scroll fell into ash, and the portal faded away into the darkness of the undercity of Hollow, beneath Nexus.

As the ash fell, it spelled out another message, one for Fas'rial - something along the lines of 'That's one more favor you owe me. You really need to learn to do this trick yourself.' As they passed through the gateway, they felt the destiny of the Gull again wrap around them - growing weaker, but still effective. For now, they would merely be wanderers, easily forgotten.

Fas'rial led the way back through Hollow, up into Nexus, and then to the Nighthammer district, where they found Falcon Stone's home. Along the way, they passed a quartet of sailors bearing the bloated and drowned body of a comrade between them. It would appear that the Yellow River was again a deadly hazard. While it meant that the Sidereals had done their job well, seeing the return of death was not terribly satisfying.

They decided to split up at this point, to achieve both of their mission objectives quickly - Fas'rial and Zahara would go to the river to locate Falcon Stone, while Caelan and Kara would meet with Falcon Emerald and pass on the Contagious Destiny.

Falcon Emerald had met Kara before - wearing the same Destiny - and allowed her and Caelan inside. A mere touch would pass on the Contagious Destiny, giving her fertility a boost to perhaps continue the Falcon line, but Caelan hesitated. Could this woman support a child? Was this a part of her fate? Would meddling bring more serenity, or more suffering?

(OOC: There was some confusion about how the Contagious Destiny would work. I finally described it as "She gets a bonus to her 'get pregnant' roll.")

As they conversed with Emerald, Kara noticed something about their shrine. When she had been in the house before, Emerald had mentioned praying to the gods of the river for saving her husband from death. Now the shrine looked to be damaged, a candle fallen aside and incense scattered. As she spoke, Emerald explained that she had felt that the power of the place had run out...that somehow the gods just weren't listening anymore, and she had grown frustrated and damaged the shrine in anger. Perhaps it was a consequence of Simlaon's demotion.

The conversation went on, with Kara fidgeting and Caelan weighing the possible consequences of her actions. In the end, Caelan decided to wait, and did not touch Emerald. Why the powers of the Loom of Fate are passed on by physical contact, we may never know, but the Destiny remained on Caelan for the time being.

Meanwhile, Fas'rial and Zahara had come to the river, and found about a dozen fishermen on it. They wisely called out 'Stone!', causing one of the men on a raft to look behind him and scan the shoreline. While it would be simple to simply dive in and pull him under, or knock him out with a well-placed rock, such physical methods seemed unsuitable for the Sidereals. Besides, why get your hands dirty when you can get the spirits to do it for you?

Fas'rial began work constructing a small shrine to the lesser god of the Yellow River - most likely, the new spirit which was covering Simlaon's post. As they already owed this spirit some thanks, Fas'rial decided to put an exceptional amount of effort into the shrine.

Thinking about what a water spirit might appreciate, he decided that an expensive liquid might be pleasing - wine. He used his Efficient Secretary Technique to discern the location of a few casks of wine nearby, which were relatively unguarded. As Fas'rial continued to build the shrine and begin prayers, Zahara left to locate the liquor.

Beri

02-12-2005, 03:24 PM

Zahara located the wine quickly, selected a cask, and began to bring it back to Fas'rial. Now, this was not a simple bottle of wine - it was a large-scale cask, like the kind Japanese sake come in, nearly as big as Zahara's torso. Her progress was slow, complicated by her difficulty seeing over the top of the cask, so she weaved back and forth across the alley.

Enter Caelan and Kara, coming from the other end of this alley. From their perspective, they are being approached by a giant, walking cask of wine.

Perhaps this would not normally startle a Sidereal, but you must understand that Caelan has been drinking. The conundrum with Falcon Emerald has caused her a great deal of stress, and her response to that stress is to drink. And she has been nursing a flask of strong booze ever since they entered Nexus. As a result, her normal Sidereal cognitive powers are...well, a little shot.

(OOC: We compared Stamina + Resistance scores for everybody. Caelan can take two drinks before being drunk. We also found that Kara can drink more than Caelan, Fas'rial, and Zahara combined.)

Caelan tapped Kara on the shoulder. "Do you see that?" Kara replied in the affirmative. Then Zahara started calling out for help. "Do you hear that?" Kara stepped forward to help Zahara with the cask, while Caelan continued to stare on in a dazed sort of wonder. Caelan left them to return to Fas'rial, while she went to 'investigate' the rest of the wine. She promptly collapsed on top of one of the remaining casks.

At this point, Elentari's player arrived and entered the game. The players and I started tossing ideas back and forth, trying to figure out how we would get her back with the group.

After watching Simlaon return to his manse, Elentari left Iadas guarding it and tried to catch up with the other Sidereals. However, she was far behind them once she entered Nexus, and had little idea of where they were going, except that they were off to find Falcon Stone.

Elentari put in some inquiries around Nexus, and found out that the most popular joint for fishermen was a seedy bar near the Yellow River. She planned to go in there, listen and observe until she found Falcon Stone, and then ambush him, drag him to the river, and drown him. The guise of the Gull worked against her, however, as she was immediately seen as an outsider, and not one of the Nexus sailors. She was impolitely thrown out.

Trying a different approach, Elentari ambushed a deliveryman on his way to the bar, throwing out one of the casks of wine he carried and then climbing inside. Her plan was to wait outside until someone carried her into the storeroom, then sneak out from there, probably head for the rafters, and observe until she found Falcon Stone. At this point, she was waiting inside one of the casks of wine, waiting for a sign that she was inside and the coast was clear.

Then Caelan fell on top of her.

Elentari attemped to lift the lid of her cask, but was unable, due to the sleeping Sidereal on top. Figuring that her ruse was already blown, she began to cry out for help. The ensuing conversation was hilarious.

"Let me out of here!"
"...oookay. I'm just going to open the spigot...and you just...flow out."
"No! Open the cask!"
Caelan thought for a moment. "...but then you might go bad."

After a bit more discussion, Elentari negotiated her freedom from the inebriated Caelan. (Along with the comment, "Geez, where were you when they were handing out INT?") Before they returned, Elentari attempted to create a potion to relieve Caelan's drunkenness, at least long enough for them to finish their duty.

Being drunk is really a state of being numb. The alcohol dulls your senses, making negative things seem less problematic, and making you have to do more extreme things to get a positive feeling.

Elentari's concoction tasted so awful, however, that even Caelan's numbed body could not comprehend the swirls of vitriolic vileness that assaulted her mouth. Unable to delude itself into a happy drunkeness any longer, Caelan snapped back into sobriety.

Caelan and Elentari began to return to Fas'rial, where the wine was already being used in their prayers. Hidden away from the eyes of Nexus, Kara, Fas'rial, and Zahara began to mix water and wine as a sacrifice to gain the favor of the lesser god of the river, to complete this messy task.

Fas'rial performed an elaborate ceremony of mixing the water and wine, splashing them together in a cascade of pink rain. I believe it was Zahara who went next, stripping down to her undergarments and kneeling in the sand, halfway between water and land, to ask for favor. (Or was that Caelan? Correct me if I'm wrong.)

Kara, however, did not do as well. The way of Battles is confronting problems head-on. Kara performed a dance, outlining her request to the gods through her movements, but she made an error. Her dance was agressive, urging the gods into a more violent death, rather than less. (Her player botched the prayer.)

I can't remember the other prayers, so if my players want to expound on their actions, feel free to post!

The voice of the river came to them, bubbling up from the piles of stones Fas'rial had built. Zahara had cupped water in her hands, speaking to it, and it spoke back in return. They outlined their request, and the need for Falcon Stone to perish, and the river, with some regret as to the necessity, agreed. However, due to Kara's error, it did not give him a quick and painless death. He was marked to suffer.

A rumbling began over the river, spreading in size and intensity and droplets of water began to dance on the surface. The fishermen who were out on rafts, Stone included, dropped and clung to their planks, wondering what would come next. As the rumbling continued, the spirit simply commanded that the waters would not hold Falcon Stone any longer. His raft soundlessly plunged beneath the water.

It should have been simple, but it seems that Sidereals are fated to face complexities. Stone resurfaced, spitting and screaming, as the waters pulled at him. He begged forgiveness, screaming curses and asking what he had done to be forced to drown twice.

Another fisherman leapt from his raft, intent on saving Stone. He might succeed, but the more likely outcome was that they would both die. Simultaneously, instinctively, Fas'rial and Elentari leapt into the waters.

Fas'rial arrived first, and pulled the fisherman away from Stone, forcing him to give up the fight and return to shore. Meanwhile, Elentari glided beneath the Yellow River, reaching Stone and clinging to him. She understood the way of Endings, and it was his time to go. He struggled valiantly, but the strength and endurance of a Sidereal will never fail to a mere human. He went limp, his story finally over.

On the other shore, Fas'rial climbed out with the fisherman, still sobbing over Stone. A friend, it seemed. Fas'rial wrote out instructions for him, commanding him to take care of Falcon Emerald now that her husband was gone. In his grief, he agreed.

The Sidereals returned to the Falcon home, to break the news of her husband's 'tragic, accidental death' to Falcon Emerald. She cried hysterically, she moped quietly, she showed the full gamut of emotion for her lost spouse. This was not one of the upper-class Bastion citizens, who would react to a lost wife with 'hmm, guess I need to find another one.' Stone was her pillar, her only source of happiness in a lower-class life, and he was gone now. They made efforts to comfort her, but there was really very little they could do.

Caelan stepped forward, patting her to console her. With that action, the Contagious Destiny was fulfilled, and Falcon Emerald was moved closer to the Ewer, imposing an Ascendent Effect upon her in order to hopefully give her a child. Only time would tell whether Caelan's astrology would truly find success.

Their work being done, they returned to Yu-Shan. In the undercity of Hollow, Fas'rial searched around for some souvenier to take with him (a memory of his completed task?) and found a beautiful black arrow sunk deeply into one of the rock walls. Perhaps it would later have some significance...perhaps it was merely a poor shot which landed here.

They were fairly quiet as they returned to the Loom of Fate, contemplating what they had done and the decisions they had made. Upon their return, Salesh Enoi, last survivor of the Convention of Wood, welcomed them back and congratulated them on their new, full, and official positions as the protectors of fate for the entire East.

Enoi told them to return to their homes; relax and train, and come back to the Loom when they felt the time was right. He would then give them their next assignment. The Sidereals spent their downtime in various ways, some training, some otherwise.

I've asked the players to, if they like, write a story about what their characters have done during this downtime. They can either post their stories themselves, or send them to me and I'll post them in this thread.

Some of them only felt like spending a day or two at home, while some took off several weeks to train. Strangely, though, when each one - independent of the others - decided to return to the Loom, they all arrived at the same time. Again, Salesh Enoi waited for them, and presented them with two envelopes. They faced, now, perhaps the most difficult choice they had yet to overcome - deciding which of their options would best serve fate.

One envelope was marked 'Astrology Training', to teach them (and their players) the ins and outs of Sidereal Astrology, which had been overlooked during their training.

The other envelope was marked 'Snake Among The Dragons', and was a more complicated matter of an artifact which had disappeared from fate, and suggested an infiltration of a family of Dragon-Blooded.

Some argumentation ensued about which option to pursue. The issue of the Dragon-Blooded seemed more time-critical, but the Sidereals felt that knowing how to perform Astrology might be very useful in their future missions.

Finally, they settled on undergoing Astrology Training. They were to meet with a Sidereal tutor, named Lucian. It seemed like a fairly straightforward thing - but who knows what surprises their training might bring?

Mengtzu

02-12-2005, 08:23 PM

Cool! (I giggled at the wine cask bit, I'll admit)

Beri

02-14-2005, 11:10 PM

In session 3, I was wrong - it was Caelan who knelt in the water and spoke to it as her stunt.

Session 4: Astrology is Hard

Not a terribly interesting session today. The Sidereals met with Lucian, and we did a IC/OOC session trying to get the grasp of Sidereal Astrology. I think they're all good enough at it to use it, I just hope they feel that the trouble is worth it to use in their missions. I think that Sidereal Astrology is the thing that sets the Sidereals apart from other Exalted, and I think it's a very evocative thing to have in the game, but it sure doesn't make for a fun session.

Eventually, the Sidereals tried their hand at astrology. Fas'rial performed an effect to bring Wheat And Rain, the fisherman they had met last session, closer in love with Falcon Emerald. His effect was quite successful, but he still needed to make a quick trip down to Nexus to touch Wheat And Rain to pass on the Contagious Destiny.

The Sidereals each practiced their astrology - gathering sacrifices for prayers and fumbling through their rolls, but eventually they got it. Zahara did a dance of black feathers, crows, and song, bringing the Destiny of the Crow down upon herself (although her first prayer failed, and she had to accept a lesser destiny).

Elentari observed the destiny of the Corpse by having an ally spirit tattoo her entire back with an ornate butterfly. A painful and permanent sacrifice.

Fas'rial returned to his manse, a great lantern made of paper. As his servant-spirits bathed him in light, he stood atop the central mast of his home, as flowers swirled beneath him. Then he fell, deep into the cloud of flowers and scent, allowing the whirling air to ease him out of his clothing and dress him in nothing but the caress of flowers. He would become the Ewer.

(Caelan would finish her Destiny next week, as she had to leave.)

As they discussed their mission at a eatery in Yu-Shan, Salesh Enoi entered with something they didn't expect: another mission envelope. This one, titled 'Witness to Evil,' asked them to investigate the servants of the Deathlords and determine their strength. It claimed the request was urgent - just as their other mission, 'Snake Among the Dragons,' had. They began to debate which problem needed to be solved first.

At this point, I brought up the issue of the Great Curse that affected the Sidereals. The Sidereals, believing themselves to be the proper guardians of all Creation, were cursed by the Primordials to hubris and stubbornness - believing in their own plans and schemes without listening to the advice of others. Such an attitude led to the Solar Purge, and still remained today with the division of the Gold and Bronze Factions. Certainly, the Curse wasn't as strong as it could have been, but it did lead to some confusion and anger as the Sidereals attempted to see eye-to-eye, and the ancient curse of the Primordials constantly shifted their gaze.

To make matters worse, Elentari revealed a tragic part of her past. Before she Exalted, she loved a man - and watched him die. Or rather, she watched him cheat death, saved by the Mask of Winters, and observed his Exaltation as a champion of the dead. Her history might be a blessing or a curse to their mission, but Elentari was certain that she wasn't ready to be face-to-face with him, Abyssal and Sidereal, quite yet.

Finally, they decided to continue on their current mission, creating a story where Elentari would masquerade as a relative of a Dragon-Blooded family, and the rest of the group would have destinies interlinked with hers (and created the Destinies you see above). I'll explain the mission in more detail next week.

A new Sidereal would also be assigned with them, although they didn't know it yet. Gicer, of the division of Secrets, was also undergoing training in Astrology. To call upon the Mask, he sat in the center of rows of candles, silently sending the room into darkness by extinguishing them with his concentration and muted essence.

Their first mission was a test. Their second assignment was training. Now, they would enter the realm of the Dragon-Blooded, the home of the Bronze Faction Sidereals, the center of the Immaculate Order which sought to deny the very existence of Heaven. If they failed - if their Destinies were not strong enough - they could not simply run back to Yu-Shan to nurse their wounds. They would defend the fate of Creation - or die trying.

Beri

02-15-2005, 12:26 PM

After stumbling through Astrology all session, I went back to Voidstate's page and took another look at the One Roll Astrology system he created. At first I didn't like it, because I felt it lost a lot of the flavor of Astrology, but now I see that a simple system for everyday use could be really useful.
Still didn't like One Roll Astrology, so I restored the Preparation/Prayer Roll, and made it Two Roll Astrology. And then crammed as much extra info as I could on the page. The formatting will probably get screwed up on your computer, but the file is here: http://www.onlyonecomic.com/images/Two Roll Astrology.doc . It should be 2 pages exactly.

Mengtzu

02-15-2005, 02:18 PM

Man, you're pumping out the sessions pretty quickly atm. Keep it up!

Beri

02-15-2005, 03:42 PM

Now that school's back in session, we're playing once a week!

Beri

02-22-2005, 02:58 AM

Session 5: Snake Among The Dragons

Present and voting:
Fas'rial, Chosen of the Maiden of Journeys
Kara, Chosen of the Maiden of Battles
Elentari, Chosen of the Maiden of Endings
And introducing Gicer, Chosen of the Maiden of Secrets!

The session began with Fas'rial carrying a Contagious Destiny for the fisherman, Wheat and Rain. Now that he was capable of using sorcery to open the gate to Yu-Shan for himself, it would be just a quick side trip down to Nexus to pass on the Destiny.

Two astrological effects and numerous trips back and forth to Yu-Shan, just to fix a little problem in a river...being Exalted is hard work!

Upon stepping through the portal to Heaven, Fas'rial entered the undercity of Hollow - and ran smack into Gicer. Fas'rial feared that a mortal had witnessed his passage from Yu-Shan, a mortal who would have to be brainwashed or silenced. Fortunately, though, the man shared the sparks that graced Fas'rial's eyes. Another Sidereal, one Chosen by Jupiter.

Gicer had been sent to Nexus on a similar test as his first mission - to sabotage a Guild wagon's wheel, so it would be slowed, and arrive to Nexus after another caravan from a nearby village had a chance to arrive and sell its goods, thus weakening the Guild in Nexus just a little bit. As was common for the Sidereals, it was complicated, but not hard. The difficult part came when Gicer tried to return to Yu-Shan...and found that he could not open the gate, and that the spirits of Yu-Shan were too busy to answer his prayers. Several days passed before Fas'rial found him.

With Fas'rial leading the way, it was a short run to the Nighthammer District, where they met again with Falcon Emerald. Gicer wore the Destiny of the Mask - a priest wrapped in the mystery of religion. He comforted Emerald on the loss of her husband, while urging her to guide them to Wheat and Rain. While the Contagious Destiny would have worked just by touching Emerald (or, perhaps, anyone in Nighthammer, as it had a broad Scope) these Sidereals seemed to wish to do the job personally.

So she led them to the general area of Wheat and Rain's home, and Gicer located the house. Wheat and Rain was a somewhat gruff, tense man, as one might expect from someone whose only friends are whores and fish. He greeted Emerald politely, keeping her at arm's length...until Fas'rial held them both in his embrace, bringing them to Heaven's attention. Now, Sidereal Astrology is far from perfect...but it was written in the stars that every move that Wheat and Rain made that brought him closer to Emerald would be blessed. It would be only a matter of time before they couldn't live without each other.

It was back to Yu-Shan, then. In high spirits, and with a fish over his shoulder (for some reason) Fas'rial led the way back to the undercity of Hollow. Just as they were about to duck down an alley to access the undercity, the skies burst into color. Far in the distance of Nexus, between low-rising buildings, a corona of brilliant and pure light exploded toward the heavens, accompanied by the scream of a diving raptor. The light faded away soon after, and the Sidereals - unsure if they had somehow caused this event - stole away back to Yu-Shan. He felt the Destiny of the Crow shred around him as he left, finally becoming unusable.

While they had been in Nexus, Elentari and Kara prepared for their next mission. This had found them at the Loom of Fate, in a small envelope marked 'Snake Among the Dragons.' It was from another Sidereal of Serenity, named Evening Sonnet. She explained that some time ago, she had been working on the Blessed Isle with a family of Dynasts. The Exalted patriarch, Lapas Tiame, had stumbled across her destiny as a Sidereal, entirely by accident. In a rush, she created a powerful astrological effect, and wove it into a small statue of white jade which she gave to him. It was written that whenever he would look upon the statue, he would forget again what he had seen.

However, the statue was now gone. Not simply lost or hidden - there are Charms to find that. The statue had disappeared from Fate, and its thread was gone from the Loom. It could be nothing...or it could be a harbinger of something much more dangerous. Either way, that statue needed to be found, and soon. After all, every moment that went by gave Lapas Tiame another chance to remember the existence of the Sidereals...which would throw the Blessed Isle into a paranoid civil war.

Having worked with this family before, Evening Sonnet suggested a path of deception. She had part of their birth charts recorded, and had found a cousin of the family who could visit them without suspicion - a young noblewoman, Lapas Ridana. One of the Sidereals would take her place, learn the information they needed, then escape with none the wiser. At least, that was Evening Sonnet's plan...but of course, nothing seemed to go perfectly according to plan for her.

The female Sidereals had been talking to Evening Sonnet, the Sidereal who had asked them to undertake their next mission. They asked a simple question - if the problem she had was on the Blessed Isle, why not ask the Imperial Convention, rather than the Directional Convention of Wood? Her answer was that Wood symbolized life, something which was unappreciated among the Bronze Faction of the Imperial Convention. Lapas Tiame - the man they would need to investigate - was a good person, hardworking and noble. The easiest and best solution, at least in the eyes of Heaven, would be to simply slaughter the Lapas family - something she did not wish to see pass.

With her eye on profit, Elentari began to negotiate with Evening Sonnet. The prize that was offered for this task was one piece of light Starmetal armor - hardly a worthy gift for a full Circle of Sidereals. Elentari wheedled her up to two pieces of Starmetal armor, at least enough to outfit herself and Kara. The other Sidereals, Elentari told herself, didn't need to know about their extra reward.

It came time to don the web of lies they had woven.
Elentari became Lapas Ridana, wearing the destiny of the Corpse. She wove her own interpretation into the stars - the death surrounding her would be the death of relationships, a woman whose fickle nature ended love as soon as it began.

Playing the other half of her charade was Fas'rial, the Ewer, becoming Jormaine of the Spiral Rose, Ridana's flirtacious fiancee. He remained mute, however, meaning his seduction would be done with body language.

Kara, the Gauntlet, became Thorn, the bodyguard. A greataxe on her back, she followed Ridana around, keeping any muggers or other villains at bay.

Finally, Gicer became the Mask, playing Miroc the priest, trailing Ridana to keep her moral...and perhaps to marry Jormaine and Ridana if it came to that. So their story went.

Before they left, a snake slithered up to Elentari with a book on its head. The small, handwritten journal was a gift from Evening Sonnet, describing the Lapas family's history and familial relations. Tiame's father was assassinated by poison. His wife was mortal, and died a century ago. He has a daughter and a son from different women, one Lapas Meiru, and one Lapas Brisan. Few children of his have Exalted, none yet noteworthy.

Unfortunately, to reach their destination, they had to sail halfway across Yu-Shan, a trip of around a thousand miles. Still, it was better than trying to walk from Nexus to Arjuf on foot. The dragon boat cut through the canals cleanly, with Fas'rial at the helm, somehow sailing while asleep. (Hey, it's the Exalted rule...if it sounds cool, it works.)

Eight hours later, standing in a pavilion of the gates to the Blessed Isle, their Destinies rose around them...and immediately had to be dropped, as Elentari sent thirty motes of essence swirling through the sky to Open the Spirit Door. As Elentari glowed with the soft aura of a Sidereal, they could only hope that the other side of gate 7 would not be the center of a city.

Fortunately, it was not. They stepped out onto a small outcropping on the side of a mountain, about 200 feet above the ground. Below them, about three miles away, lay Arjuf, bustling with activity. Far in the distance, they saw a mountain. It looked impressive, perhaps a few miles high...until they looked at the ground, and saw the trees, cities, and land disappear into haze. The mountain was not 10 miles away, but perhaps a thousand...and it was not a few miles high, but hundreds. The Imperial Mountain. The Elemental Pole of Earth. The center of Creation.

But there was no time to dawdle on that, there's work to be done! By the time they made their way down the mountain to Arjuf, Elentari's anima had faded to a minimal level. They set about seeking information. The Lapas household was not on any map, and Evening Sonnet had mentioned they were nomadic. Before they could be infiltrated, they had to be found.

Gicer sought information at a local horse trader...and botched his attempt. He immediately sought out the rest of the group, convinced that their next move should be to go to the Imperial City, hundreds of miles away.

Fortunately, Fas'rial and Elentari had better luck. Fas'rial managed to convince a bartender to help him, and the bartender recommended the master of the docks, who lived nearby. Thanks to a request by Elentari's player, his name was Billi Idolu.

They hastened down to the docks, where they found Kara pummeling some information out of a few Arjuf citizens. They also caught up with Gicer, and visited Billy Idol...um, Billi Idolu, the dockmaster. Fortunately, she was barking up the right tree - the family had come in to deliver some stores of meat and drop off supplies just a few weeks ago. (The Lapas family were herders and hunters, it seemed.) He was able to narrow their search area down, giving them a path to follow away from Arjuf that should lead them to the Lapas family.

In her appreciation, Elentari managed to dismiss Gicer and Kara, and sent Fas'rial outside to 'play' with her pet tiger. (I often forget to mention her Familiar.) Fas'rial was lucky to survive the experience, having a chance to practice his Dodge and Endurance abilities, while Elentari and Billi Idolu practiced Stamina and Performance inside. I guess a girl gets pretty lonely when all her friends are spirits, and all her coworkers are manipulative fate-ninjas.

So, without further ado (except the ado where they bought a carriage) they set off. For two days, they travelled the route that Billi Idolu had pointed out. Early on the third day, they came to something strange in the road. Straddling the road was a gigantic depression...an octagon nearly 100 feet wide was pressed into the ground, as if one of the Yu-Shan manses had been pressed down, then lifted straight out of the ground. On the other side, hoofmarks trailed away, with deep ruts cut in the road. Was this the trail of the Lapas family...or something else entirely?

With another day of travel, they came upon it - an elegant, eight-sided manor, sitting off the side of the road in a clearing of trees. It was the perfect fit to the depression they had seen...except, of course, that the house was here, and the depression was there. A closer inspection revealed a masterpiece of engineering - seams divided the house, where various parts fit together, and the outside was covered in hooks and harnesses that horses might be attached to. It was a mobile home! A manor worthy of a Dragon-Blood, but able to be disassembled and hitched to eight teams of horses, and moved across the land as quickly as a wagon might travel. It was extravagant, yes, and unnecessary - and their first taste of the eccentric decadence that was the life of a Dynastic Dragon-Blood.

Guards posted at the door stopped the group, until Elentari introduced herself as Lapas Ridana, the cousin of the family. With a moment's deliberation, they allowed her in - for, wrapped in a Destiny written just for the purpose, they truly wanted to believe her. In the antechamber to this massive home, they met Lapas Meiru, the unExalted daughter of Lapas Tiame. She seemed surprised to see Ridana, and perhaps a little confused, as the real Ridana had visited just last season. Meiru made some small talk with Elentari/Ridana, then ushered her into the main banquet hall to meet with Lapas Tiame.

Tiame arose from a luxurious-looking couch, rising to an impressive height. His skin twinged with crimson, and his hair was as red as flame. The Exalted blood of Fire must be strong in him, as even after three hundred years of life his presence was still awe-inspiring.

More small talk followed, as the Sidereals did not yet know how they would pursue their task of finding the missing idol. Gicer requested a room where he might change, and Tiame commented on how auspicious their timing was - the guest rooms were already made up, in preparation for Tiame's grandson's visit, Lapas Dricas. The boy was Exalted, and a monk of the Immaculate Order...and a day late. The Sidereals wondered if this might be a clue.

Meanwhile, no sooner did Gicer enter his room than he snuck back out and began inspecting other areas. One room was full of trunks and such. A bed was in the back, but it was lost among the trade goods and refrigerated casks that filled the room. As elegant as this manor was, it was still a wagon, and a wagon used to transport goods. Searching through some drawers, he found a copy of the Immaculate Texts with the family's birth chart written in the first page. Useful for filling in holes in Elentari's story.

The other end of the hall was filled with weapons and armor for the guards, but nothing that Gicer was not already equipped with. As he hated to leave empty-handed, he palmed a pair of daggers.

On the other side of the hall (after sneaking past Meiru), he found Tiame, Meiru, and the servants' quarters. Meiru's room was first. He found it filled with all kinds of decorations, the mark of a woman who was not a child but not an adult. Cloth draped from the ceiling gave an impression of royalty, but was simply a cheap decoration. A stand of dolls sat on one side, with skin of alabaster - the kind of toys that were too fragile for a child, and too immature for an adult. No sign of an idol, however, and he decided not to waste time searching her cabinets.

Moving to the servants' quarters, he found, unsurprisingly, that two servants were there. A cook and a maid sat playing a simple card game, probably having just completed their tasks. Wearing his destiny as a priest to the fullest, he asked them for news, prayers, and confessions. They only offered vague requests for Meiru and Tiame, but there was an air that something had gone unsaid. They had mentioned that Tiame had become forgetful as of late, which made the Sidereals wonder if the disappearance of the idol was having some effect on him. But the servants wouldn't explain themselves further, or give any hints as to Tiame's ailment.

The Sidereals met back in what would be Fas'rial and Elentari's bedroom, and agreed that they would each pursue a different path. Fas'rial would speak with, and perhaps seduce, Meiru. Elentari would deal with Tiame. And Kara would speak to the servants, bringing a more physical form of questioning to the table where Gicer had failed.

As we neared the end of the session, I decided to focus on Kara and Gicer.

Kara, or 'Thorn,' entered the room with the servants, her greataxe slung across her back, asking for any information that they wanted to tell her. Her attitute made it clear that it would be quite painful for them if they could not produce anything interesting. They held out for a while, unwilling to spill their family's secrets, but a slip of the cook's tongue allowed Kara to convince them that she was part of the Thousand Scales - the eyes of the Scarlet Empress.

They asked forgiveness for the illegal drugs the caravan carried, claiming that they didn't know where they came from, and that they were carrying them unwillingly. They swore that they had just opened the crate, seen the drugs, and sealed it, and that neither Tiame nor Meiru were aware of them. Regardless of whether this was truth or lies, it gave the Sidereals ammunition to use in their quest.

The cook had one other fact that Kara needed to know. He had discovered poisoned meat in meals intended for Lapas Tiame - a light poison, one that would probably just cause suffering rather than death. He had discarded the poisoned meat, and had not mentioned the attempt to anyone but his fellow servants. He felt that it had been done recently, but he had been unable to catch the poisoner in the act. Whoever had done it - and followed them through their last move - had to know the pattern that the Lapas family used whenever it moved. Only the government of the Arjuf prefecture knew that, and Meiru had already mentioned her distaste for Ledaal Maris, the governness. The possibility that the poisoner was a Lapas went unsaid.

Their leads exhausted, Gicer and Kara went to find the drugs that were supposedly in their shipments. They found a sizable tub of something hidden among shreds of material in a large crate, and brought it back to their fellow Sidereals for discussion.

At this point, I had another good spot of improvisation, creating the concept of Crystal Tears Honey. The Crystal Bees only thrive in a few parts of the Blessed Isle, and rarely survive in captivity. They crave the wild, and will defend the nests they build with fervent anger, bees the size of candy bars directed by their baseball-sized queen. They build a bitter honey, utterly inedible.

That is, of course, unless one can strike at their nest and crush the queen. Then, their warriors lose their fighting spirit, and the bees simply fill the hive to weep for their fallen leader. Their tears, falling upon this bitter honey, create a potent concoction of love, hate, passion and sadness. Soon afterwards, the hive dies, leaving behind a good-sized amount of one of the most unstable and powerful hallucinogens known on the Blessed Isle.

Of course, Elentari had to dip her finger in it and taste it. Suddenly her companions were longer...and fuzzier...and much more colorful.

Perhaps Fas'rial saw the honey, and it reminded him of the Ambrosia of Yu-Shan. Perhaps his destiny was particularly weak today. But he took a bottle of this Crystal Tears Honey and chugged it.

Before the First Age came the age of the Dragon Kings. Powerful masters of mind and body, these reptiles were both culturally advanced and utterly terrifying to look upon. And it was these creatures that Fas'rial imagined his companions transformed into. He squwaked and flapped his arms, running headfirst into the wall - for he believed himself a Pterok.

With a little dead weight from Elentari to hold him down, a bit of knotwork from Gicer, and a failed Stamina roll to keep him conscious, Fas'rial had quite an uncomfortable nap. Lapas Tiame picked this time to enter the room...and seeing Fas'rial tied up and Elentari sitting on him, made a hasty and embarassed exit. They had seen a rare sight - a Fire Aspected Dragon-Blooded become even redder.

Elentari and Fas'rial blacked out together, while Kara and Gicer made their bed for the night. Tomorrow, they would have a chance to interrogate Meiru and Tiame, and get to the bottom of this mystery.

Vargo Teras

02-22-2005, 05:15 PM

Just a small note, and certainly not worth ret-conning over, but resplendent destinies don't allow you to impersonate specific individuals; thus, Elentari could pose as "a member of House Lapas," but not as a specific real member.

Beri

02-22-2005, 05:26 PM

What's happening is more that she's creating a somewhat neutral Destiny, then that Destiny is masquerading as Lapas Ridana. Evening Sonnet was able to find a cousin who was distant enough that some slips in appearance and mannerisms would go unnoticed. So she's not actually wearing Lapas Ridana's Destiny. The Resplendent Destiny cannot impersonate a specific person, but the Sidereals are quite good at impersonation on their own.

Vargo Teras

02-22-2005, 05:37 PM

Ah. I see.

Beri

02-28-2005, 10:37 PM

Session 5 1/2: Caelan, Zahara, Wherever Did You Go?

This week was an awkward one for our gaming club, the Gamers' Conclave. Kara's managing a play, and had to miss this Monday. Fas'rial got caught up in playing Heroclix at the meeting, and Elentari Mah Jong, and I ended up writing up a quick session for Caelan and Zahara.

One of the missions they had been asked to undertake, called "Witness to Evil," requested that the Sidereals locate an object called the "Witness Stone," rumored to be lost under Rathess. Knowing that many of the cities of the First Age were destroyed and looted when the Fair Folk first invaded Creation, Caelan decided that she would visit a stronghold she knew of in the Wyld. She asked Zahara to come with her to use the Creation Smuggling Practice to ensure their safety.

(Note: I've read Exalted: The Fair Folk, but this session was written off the top of my head. So some of the NPCs/facts/etc. may be all wrong. But hey, the Raksha are strange creatures anyway...and just because they are harmless one day doesn't mean they won't be deadly the next. This session ended up being mostly random and wacky...who's to say it wasn't just a Wyld hallucination?)

Travelling out from the East, they passed through the Bordermarches - where rocks fell up and trees wept blood - and into the Deep Wyld, enshrouded in a tiny pocket of Creation. Travelling for a period of time just short enough not to be frustrating and just long enough to be epic, they found themselves approaching an Arabic-style camp, with low-slung tents and walls of cloth. They were greeted by a Raksha in ornate garb, carrying a blade woven of dreams. He hailed them as Subarto the Sage. Perhaps he was truly that celebrity among Raksha, or merely an impersonator, or merely a dream - but upon hearing that they sought an audience with the leader of the camp, he dove into combat against them.

The battle was short, as Caelan stunned him with a staff-vaulted kick and dust thrown in his eyes, before his first strike landed, leaving him off guard as he barely wove out of the way as Zahara grabbed some of the Creation she had brough with her, nocked it, and fired her Generalized Ammunition, barely missing his head. He ducked and rose to find Caelan's knife at his throat. Amenably, he agreed to lead them inside...yet insisted they finish the duel to the death. Caelan hesitated, then plunged her dagger in his throat. Subarto fell dead, then stepped over his body and led them into the stronghold.

They watched as Neshi of the Double Whips engaged twenty Raksha with her glimmering weapons, sending them sailing with a rote sort of boredom that implied that it simply wasn't written that she should lose. Once her practice was done, Caelan and Zahara followed her back into a tent, where their conversation grew increasingly erratic. Perhaps this Neshi was an impostor...perhaps they only had half the Raksha's attention...perhaps the Fair Folk were as strange as the legends say. Regardless, she nodded at the mention of the Witness Stone and seemed to know what they were talking about.

She offered to set her stronghold to seeking the knowledge of this stone, using their knowledge of how Rathess used to be to simplify the lives of the Sidereals. In return, she asked simply for stories and dreams. Listening to one of Caelan's dreams, she siphoned off just enough energy and creativity not to anger the Exalt. Caelan and Zahara began to gossip about the other Sidereals, currently on the Blessed Isle, and Neshi became engaged in their story. If they would complete this story, and return to Neshi with the finished tale, she promised that they would gain insight into the Witness Stone.

She also requested a young boy, which the Sidereals promised her. Almost immediately after doing so, however, they began to wonder about ways that they might evade this request. But that was something to deal with when the time came.

As Neshi thought over how she would seek the requested information, the Sidereals experimented with the Wyld. They thought of water, and a cube of it filled the suddenly-large tent. They thought of swimming, and they were. They thought of being dry, and they were.

Neshi began to escort them out, but before doing so, made them one more offer. If they would attempt to solve a riddle, she would reweave their weapons, strengthening them with her ample gossamer supply. She asked a question of three brothers and three sisters who needed to cross a river, but the situation quickly devolved into the Sidereals (and the players) discussing riddles and river crossings and trying to get old logic puzzles straight.

True to her word, Neshi wove new weapons for them from strands of gossamer - not fantastically powerful, but equivalent to the finest masterworks. Then she was gone, and the Sidereals were outside the camp again, returning to Creation.

Along the way, they discussed their next mission, and Caelan finished the Destiny she had been working on. Using the Musician, she created a personage which was upbeat and cheerful, to contrast Zahara's Destiny of the Crow which was already complete. They decided that they would become sisters, Caelan a performer and Zahara a cynic, who were cousins of Lapas Ridana (herself already a cousin of Lapas Tiame). They would have a bet, whether or not Ridana would actually get married this month, and would thus have a good way to follow and harass their fellow Sidereal.

As they returned to Yu-Shan, they were met by a carrier bird, who brought them a brief prayer strip from Fas'rial, telling of the current location of the Lapas family. They would have to hustle to rejoin the other Sidereals - but it would be worth it to see what kind of chaos they could cause!

Mengtzu

03-01-2005, 04:14 PM

Cool stuff - and nice a nice turn with the Raksha for a hurried session :)

Beri

03-07-2005, 11:31 PM

Session 6: The Immaculate Order Makes Heresy Fun!

In attendance:
Fas'rial, playing Jormaine, courtier of the stars!
Gicer, playing Miroc, priest who actually believes that Immaculate stuff!
Kara, playing Thorn, bodyguard what hurts people!

Morning rose on the Lapas compound. The characters had been separated into two rooms - Gicer and Kara in one, Fas'rial and Elentari in the other. Gicer and Kara, who had not sipped the Crystal Honey hallucinogen, woke up early and refreshed. Fas'rial, who had passed out from the drug, woke up in a tortured nausea. Elentari did not wake up at all.

Fas'rial had been tied down last night, and began working out his escape. Nudging the tiny book he wore around his neck, he willed his familiar - Kaloo the scroll-bird - to appear. Although Kaloo tried to use the opportunity to force his employer into a higher salary, the birdbrain couldn't think of anything it wanted - Fas'rial paid and fed his familiar well, often better than himself. Slipping a single phrase of poetry under a knot, Kaloo pulled Fas'rial free.

The group regrouped in Elentari's room, with her still unconscious. Gicer and Fas'rial agreed to split up - Fas'rial went to speak with Lapas Meiru, while Gicer went to create a 'distraction' by slipping some of the hallucinogenic honey in the horses' water supply. He hoped to slip into Lapas Tiame's room in the commotion.

Fas'rial slipped a finely worded note under Meiru's door, seeking admittance. At first the young Lapas was hesitant to admit the man who should have been Ridana's fiancee, but he seemed harmless and strangely appealing. They began to talk, as Meiru continued to braid her long blue hair. They spoke of her family, and how she felt that even as one of the unExalted, she had a duty to her father. A whisper of paranoia began to drift out, as Meiru mentioned her thoughts of a conspiracy from the government of the prefecture of Arjuf. Meiru mentioned that she feared the work of Ledaal Maris, the governor of the prefecture.

Fas'rial took over Meiru's braiding, and she spoke freely, telling of how she had detected poison in the food, and how she blamed the poison for her father's forgetfulness. She wondered if there was some kind of poison that only affected the Exalted - surely the Scarlet Empress could weave such a trap, but who else? She suggested that Fas'rial, or Jormaine, take Ridana and leave as soon as possible. Another unExalted hanger-on was only another target.

At that moment, the breakfast bell rang. Meiru and Fas'rial made their way to the main hall to partake of the ample bounty of the Lapas hunting business. Tiame emerged from his quarters with a shout, filled with the hunger that only those whose blood runs with fire can know. Gicer slipped in the open door behind him.

Allowing his Destiny to fall from him like a cloak, Gicer began searching the room for valuables and clues as to the idol's location. His discovery was disturbing - not only was the idol not here, but there was no clue that it had ever been here. No disturbed shrine, no hidden details. The idol must be hidden elsewhere - but in a travelling house like this, how many places were there to look? While he thought over the possibilities, he pocketed a handful of charms lying around the room.

At breakfast, Fas'rial sniffed his plate - was Meiru right? Was it poisoned? There was a strange taste to the food...and with the help of a botch, Fas'rial incorrectly identified it as deadly Arrow Frog Poison! Knocking his plate aside and leaping up on his seat, Fas'rial shouted (that is, he wrote in bold calligraphy, being mute) that the food was poisoned!

Perhaps the Crystal Honey was still affecting Fas'rial. But to insult a Dragon-Blood's hospitality, and to throw aside the very meat he had raised himself? It was a graven insult, and Tiame erupted into flame. He drew his sword - not the jade daiklaive that Gicer had found in his room, but an ordinary straight sword - and demanded that Fas'rial be silent and not insult his home any further. The cook was called out to test the food - and he did so without worry, to no ill effect. Finally, Fas'rial calmed down, and Tiame sheathed his sword and sat back down in his flame-blackened seat.

Soon after this incident, a maid came to Elentari's room and spoke to Thorn. She told of the poisoning scare, but was convinced that Fas'rial was mistaken. There was in fact poisoned food, but the cook had caught it long before it ever touched a plate. There was also poisoned wine (although that had been poisoned by Gicer last night, with the Crystal Honey.) The maid insisted that Ridana was in no danger, but that it would be wise to be careful.

The group left the room to do more investigation - but as they approached the entrance to the home, they overheard a commotion outside. A guard stepped in, inhaled, and loudly announced "Lapas Dricas, of the Immaculate Order!" In stepped Lapas Tiame's grandson - a tall, slender man, with a bald head and a fierce look in his eyes. With hardly a word, he stepped into the main chamber, with Gicer quietly trailing behind him to eavesdrop.

Dricas and Tiame retired to Tiame's room, with Gicer already in the rafters overhead. Dricas brought unfortunate news - Lapas Brisan, Tiame's son and Dricas's father, was deathly ill, and it was feared he would pass away within the day. Tiame gave the order to have the house hitched up - eight parts, and eight pairs of horses.

Back in their room, the Dragon-Blooded thought about their options. Gicer tried a direct approach - telling Tiame that the spirits had told him to find some sort of idol, and that Tiame could help him find it. The result was less that helpful, considering that spirit-worship was heresy on the Isle, there was an Immaculate Monk in the house, and Kara had already told the servants that she was from the Thousand Scales. As soon as spirits were mentioned, Tiame clammed up.

If the man would not talk, perhaps the spirits would. Evening Sonnet's journal mentioned that she had asked an air spirit to present the idol to Tiame, muddling his mind so he would accept it. Although they could not know which air elemental had done the work, it did not truly matter; without individuality, one was as good as another. Fas'rial and Gicer began a prayer to summon the spirit to them, but they were only answered by half the incense going out and a heavy feeling in the air.

Perhaps the spirit had the same reservations as Tiame - making itself known with an Immaculate in the house. Gicer and Fas'rial leapt from the window of their room, leaving their Resplendent Destinies behind in favor of the slippery truth of their Sidereal nature. Landing on the horses which had already been hitched to the house, they rode off into the forest where they could be alone with the spirits.

Kara, staying behind, got to see a marvelous sight, as the house was prepared to move. Within ten minutes, everything which could move or fall over was held down with netting. Walls slid into place to divide the eight compartments, latches were closed and locks were shut. The entire home divided into eight sections, which, drawn by horses, formed a line down the trail.

Fas'rial began parlaying with the air spirit which followed them, asking about the idol. It claimed that it did indeed know and remember the spirits giving the idol to Tiame, but that they no longer watched over it. Fas'rial thought of a clever plan - if Tiame trusted the spirits once, he might do so again. He asked the air spirit to visit Tiame in the night and to bring word that the spirits would send a messenger - and gave a description of Gicer. Hopefully, Tiame would trust Gicer - just enough to reveal the idol's location.

In exchange for this dangerous duty, Fas'rial agreed to expand the beauty of the skies of the Isle. He would, someday, find a bird that thrived in the East but was unknown on the Isle, and bring it there to thrive. Fas'rial agreed - a small price to pay in exchange for the risk the spirit would take by manifesting with an Immaculate nearby.

Their work done, Fas'rial and Gicer rode back to the house which was travelling through the forest at a good clip. They sent the horses ahead to be found later, then climbed through the trees alongside the house, eventually leaping in through the same window they left earlier. Confident that they had not been seen entering or exiting, they donned their Resplendent Destinies again and waited to make their next move.

The Lapas house continued it's journey toward the death bed of Lapas Brisan.

Mengtzu

03-08-2005, 01:54 AM

Cool stuff - I'm really enjoying reading Wood Conventioneers sneaking around the Realm :)

Beri

03-14-2005, 11:31 PM

Session 7: Gold and Bronze

The family home continued toward Brisan's home, with some of the Sidereals helping guide the horses outside. Elentari awoke to a throbbing headache, as the drugs which had kept her asleep for the last 12 hours or so wore off. Finally, they came in sight of the acres of crops and fields which marked the Brisan residence.

Caelan and Zahara had been following the house's travels, and caught up near the end of their journey. As guards came by to check on the new visitors, Caelan explained - too loudly for Ridana's hung-over head - that she and Zahara were cousins to Ridana, quite distant from Tiame. They had come because they had a bet on whether 'Ridana' and 'Jormaine' would actually go through with the wedding, and didn't want to miss the event if it actually happened. So their story went.

Upon their arrival, Tiame, Meiru, several servants, and the Sidereals reconstructed the house, then dressed in finery and went to meet Lapas Brisan. He lay weakly on his deathbed, bravely declaring that he was fine and Tiame worried over nothing.

Looking over the near-corpse, Caelan realized that he was merely afflicted by a minor disease. It was surprising that these doctors had not been able to aid him. However, Caelan could not aid either - not without violating her Destiny and risking the mission. Caelan used her Destiny of the Musician, though, to fast-talk Tiame into allowing her closer to Brisan, claiming that she knew songs to put the illness to rest. She then used Terminate Illness to dispel the spirit of Brisan's illness (or perhaps it was simply driven away by a rendition of Wierd Al's 'The Saga Begins'). Brisan looked more healthy immediately.

Now that he was in more of a mood to talk, the Sidereals asked him gently if he knew anything about a statue that Tiame owned. They had to be subtle - after all, the Immaculate Monk, Lapas Dricas, stood across the room. He claimed to know nothing, but said that if an item was lost, his vizier, Vriane, could find it. He called for his advisor.

From the moment he swept into the room and they caught sight of his burning red eyes, the Sidereals knew they were in trouble. Another Sidereal. They saw through his Destiny, and he saw through theirs. Bristling with anger, he invited the group back to his chambers for a 'discussion'.

As soon as the door closed, the Bronze Faction Sidereal - Resonant Opal - demanded to know what they were doing on the Isle. They insisted that they had a mission to finish with the Lapas family, whereas he declared they had no business interfering with a family he was working on. They had already set his plans back by healing Brisan's illness, and now they were meddling further with Tiame.

Still trying to take a diplomatic way out, they tried to explain how the Arcane Fate had failed on Tiame, and how the idol was the only thing keeping him from remembering, and now it was lost. His response was as Evening Sonnet predicted - if there was a risk to the Sidereals, the entire family must be destroyed.

A slip of the tongue informed him that they were the Convention of Wood, and he flew into a rage. The martial artists in the group noticed that he had taken up one of the beginning stances of the Violet Bier of Sorrows style. He began crafting a prayer to heaven on a long strip of paper, decrying the Gold Faction and asking for assistance with ejecting them from the Isle. The Gold Sidereals realized that if he completed his prayer, not only were they screwed, but the balance of influence between Gold and Bronze might be forever sundered.

Fas'rial first sent Kaloo after the scroll, but Resonant Opal slipped effortlessly out of the way. Elentari was next, wrapping her fists in a Horrific Wreath as she dove toward the paper - and again, missed.

I won't recount the details of the entire battle, but it gave the Sidereals quite some trouble. Whereas their first fight had been a running battle against a dangerous spirit, their second was more methodical, as the five of them tried to pool their resources to battle a well-trained Chosen of Battles.

Resonant Opal was a starting-level Sidereal - he actually had less XP than any of the PCs. What gave them trouble, though, was his defense. First up was Defense of Shining Joy, which gave him a 9-die persistant dodge for the entire fight. He also had Astrology acting on himself, giving a reduction to his TN to dodge - he had been prepared, at any time, for Brisan or Tiame to turn against him. When something got through that, he hit it with Impeding the Flow. (He also had Shield of Mars, but I didn't use it.)

So even though it was five on one, Resonant Opal was not only holding his ground but slowly doing damage to the group. My players came up with some brilliant stunts - such as Caelan throwing ash from the fireplace to distract him, then attempting to wrap him in a sheet - but each time, he danced out of the way. Finally, he botched one of his attacks, slipping on the aforementioned ash and tangling his weapon in the aforementioned sheet. This opened him up just enough to take a powerful Mantis Kick from Fas'rial on the chin, which knocked him into a bookcase which collapsed on him.

Restraining Opal, the Sidereals began interrogating him. He became much more polite, almost docile after his defeat - when the adrenaline wore off and he found that he was not, in fact, the king of the world, he was willing to listen to the Sidereals and give them a chance to finish their mission. Surprisingly, he knew nothing about the idol, but was willing to aid them in another way. He asked Zahara to knock over a urn filled with sticks, then read the pattern they fell in, thinking of Auspicious Prospects for Secrets and trying to find a Wise Choice that would bring them closer to the idol (and closer to getting them off the Isle). Opal recommended that, when Tiame would ask her to go off alone, that she accept - that it would bring her closer to her goal.

He also saw that killing Brisan would bring them closer to their goal. When the Gold Sidereals asked why he was so interested in killing Brisan, he explained how it worked into a convoluted plan - to eliminate the economic power of the Lapas family, thus weakening Arjuf, forcing them to rely more on sea trade, making Ledaal Maris more dependent on outside cities and advice, and allowing another Bronze Faction Sidereal to become her trusted advisor...he went on for several minutes before the Golds shut him up.

When asked "Maybe whoever's poisoning Tiame has something to do with the idol," Opal responded with "Meiru? I don't think she has anything to do with it." Meiru? Why was she poisoning her father? Because she was jealous of the Exalted, Resonant Opal replied. Her act of being protective of her father and worrying about conspiracies was just to pass off the blame - she was the true conspirator. And if Opal had fanned the flames of her jealousy, all the better.

That explained why Meiru was so sure that her father was being poisoned. The problem was, Tiame wasn't being poisoned, since the cook had caught it before it touched his plate...but the effects of losing the idol must have convinced Meiru that her poison was working. Such a tangled web.

Upon returning to Brisan's bedside (after giving their anima some time to fade) Ridana asked Tiame to walk with her, and he agreed - and was surprised, since he had also been planning to seek some time alone with her.

Out in the fields, under a full moon, Tiame and Elentari made small talk. Elentari had already made plans to seduce him, but he had other things on his mind. He made an off-hand comment about spirits protecting the family - and when 'Ridana' didn't immediately scream about heresy, he told her the full details.

He had nearly lost a son today, and had already seen many wives, daughters, and sons grow old and die. Tiame felt, now, that he was also cursed, and that his end would come soon. Somebody had to know his secret, and continue the Lapas family. Dricas was out of the question, and Meiru was...strange. Worried about conspiracies and paranoia, she could not be trusted with such sensitive information. Even though she was a distant cousin, Ridana was his hope, and the past few days had only cemented that in his mind. He told 'Ridana' all about the idol they sought.

A spirit had given him an idol, and commanded him to build a shrine to worship it. He had built it nearby, in a cave, which he visited every few days. When he looked upon it, everything made sense, and everything was good for the family. But now, he felt that the spirits were no longer listening - and something hurt his head, something so confusing...and then memories of a strange woman...and the stars...

Elentari kissed him then. Desperate to change the subject, and also continuing her original plan of seduction, she enticed him, and he accepted. Perhaps he was willing to do anything, if he thought the gods were behind it. They made love in the fields of tall grasses, the Dragon of Fire and the Maiden of Endings united.

Nearing the darkest part of night, Tiame led Elentari back to his home. Tomorrow, he promised, he would take her to the cave of spirits. Tomorrow, she would aid him in bringing back hope for the Lapas family. Tomorrow, maybe, the Sidereals would get to go home to Yu-Shan.

So answers were gained...but more questions too. If the idol is safely in Tiame's shrine, why did it disappear from Fate?

Beri

03-15-2005, 02:17 AM

Caelan's player wanted to know why the Lapas family didn't recognize Ridana, since they had seen her fairly recently. It didn't seem odd to me, but on the other hand, I'm really good at forgetting peoples' faces.

Here's the story. Like all good Sidereals, when she made her plan, Evening Sonnet left herself a back door. As she caused Tiame to forget about the Sidereals, she also caused Lapas Ridana to blur in his memory - preparing for a future time when she might have to come back and meddle some more. Like a Contagious Destiny, the effect flowed to others, such as Meiru and Brisan, making them all quite willing to accept anyone who claimed to be Ridana as family.

Mengtzu

03-15-2005, 04:04 PM

Wow, I'm surprised 5 PCs didn't run him out of essence really quickly. How combat-savvy are your players in general?

Beri

03-15-2005, 09:40 PM

This is only their second combat - they're all new to Exalted, and most of them are new to White Wolf in general. The main problem was overcoming Defense of Shining Joy - it took a while for them to realize that they weren't going to do any damage by just throwing a flurry of normal attacks. I think they're going to put more attention into their Charm choices from now on, both for combat and otherwise.

There was a bit of confusion in explaining Initiative - that for once, you don't roll a whole bunch of dice, and for once you actually care what the number on the die is. But they got it.

Beri

03-29-2005, 02:36 AM

Session 8: Enough With The Damn Dragon-Blooded Already

Sidereals in attendance:
Fas’rial, Silent but Deadly
Kara, Silent but REALLY Deadly
Gicer, Priest/Ninja

After their lovemaking session, Tiame wordlessly brought Elentari – ‘Ridana’ – back to his home. He brought her to her room, laying her on her bed as Fas’rial – ‘Jormaine’ – looked on in silent (mock) horror. Of course, in reality, Fas’rial couldn’t care less about who Elentari slept with, but Jormaine had appearances to keep up.

By this point, my players have become marvelously confused about what’s real and what’s the Destiny, and are almost better at being their Destinies than their real characters. Well, that’s what they’re for, after all.

With Elentari unconscious, any plans involving Ridana needed to be placed on hold. They still had one scheme going – the spirit they asked to come to Tiame in his dreams, and tell him to look for a charm – a charm which Gicer would later produce. In the meantime, though, they owed it to their spirit ally to keep him safe and give him time to do his stuff, and that meant distracting the Immaculate Monk, Lapas Dricas.

Fas’rial sent him a message, asking to speak with him. After Dricas sat down, they had a long conversation. Jormaine began by speaking of how he suspected Ridana of infidelity, and how he wondered if Ridana truly loved him. Dricas spoke of how it is no crime to have many lovers – just look at the example of the Scarlet Empress – but that one’s deepest heart must belong to only one other. Fas’rial detected a hint of agitation as Dricas spoke about Ridana – what could this monk be hiding? Was he, too, a suitor after Ridana’s loins? Surely there was a tale to be told here – and just as surely, it had little bearing on their current duty. Fas’rial did not press Dricas further.

Suddenly, Dricas shot up, gazing into the air as if he could smell something amiss. The finely honed senses of an Immaculate Monk resonated with the feeling of a nearby spirit, and he made way for the door. Fortunately, Fas’rial had already arranged to have Kara standing at the door as a bodyguard, and – playing the overly-loyal thug perfectly – refused to let even the Immaculate Monk pass. This bought Fas’rial enough time to entice Dricas to further conversation, and he again took up his teacup and sat down, opening a tome of the Immaculate Texts between himself and Fas’rial to read over. They spoke of the Hundred Gods Heresy and the Immaculate battles against heresy, which echoed Fas’rial’s Sidereal training on the proper roles of spirits. After all, bribery and powerlust led to Simlaon leaving his station and living like a greater god in Yu-Shan. However, the Immaculate Order was far too strict a response to spiritual difficulties, or so Fas’rial thought. The Bronze Faction was strange indeed.

After another dozen minutes of conversation, Dricas again stood up, confused to feel a presence again. This time, Fas’rial signaled to Kara to let him pass – the Sidereals had given the spirit more than enough time, and if it was still hanging around the compound, it had only itself to blame. After a cursory search of the area, Dricas again retired to his room.

In the meantime, Gicer took it upon himself to check out the Brisan compound for anything he could steal. Although it was the midst of night, he walked over there in his priestly Destiny, hoping to learn something of the architecture for when he returned again as a thief. Brisan was asleep, and the guards only let Gicer make a cursory survey of the house and a quick prayer before ushering him out again.

Soon, after a fine night’s sleep, it was breakfast time.

Gicer played a risky game by talking to Dricas about the Immaculate Texts, but managed to bluff his way through believably as a priest.

Fas’rial told Meiru a fairly obvious tale about a young bird who poisoned her father. Meiru excused herself early, shaken by the way Fas’rial seemed to the secret behind her father’s poisoning, that it was Meiru herself.

Kara went to the servants’ quarters to terrify them once again. They had no new information for her, so she grabbed a quick meal (her Destiny being that of a servant) and went on her way.

Soon, the hall cleared out, except for Gicer and Tiame. Gicer subtly brought up the topic of Tiame’s dreams, and showed the charm (which he had stolen from Tiame) which the spirit had said would mark the man that could help him. The mere glimpse of the charm was enough to put Tiame into a frenzy, and he insisted that Gicer meet him after dark to help him save the family. Although Gicer knew what the old man was talking about, he feigned ignorance and excused himself.

With some time to kill, Gicer made his second infiltration of the home, entering through the rear stables and advancing into the main chambers. Although Brisan was surrounded by doctors and priests, Gicer slipped between the shadows with minimal effort. Unfortunately, there was little that a man who had seen the wealth of heaven could steal from the humble Brisan compound. He armed himself with some throwing knives and stole a valuable bundle of herbs, then, like the breeze, he was gone.

Fas’rial also spent some time terrifying the poisoner Meiru. After some successful intimidation (aided by Kara, who used the Presence in Absence Technique) Meiru sang like a bird. She did indeed poison her father, because she thought it was the only way to get the family back in the good graces of the Dynasty. Ever since Lapas Ruida had attempted to assassinate the Empress, they had been outcasts, living a wretched existence instead of a glorious one in the Imperial City. Only blood could repay blood – and only Tiame’s death would redeem the family in the eyes of the Dynasty. So Meiru believed. Fas’rial attempted to change her mind, but time would tell if his words truly took root.

After night had fallen, Tiame found Gicer and led him out through a secret passage in the main chambers, pulling a cloak tight around him and slipping soundlessly past the guards. Gicer played up the role of a priest, pulled into a conspiracy – voicing a gentle protest, but still going along with Tiame.

After an hour’s walk, they came to the mouth of a cave, and Tiame led them inside, lighting candles with bursts of flame from his fingertips. Within, on a pedestal, sitting on a red cloth, was the idol they sought. But if it was right where Tiame left it, why wasn’t Evening Sonnet’s effect working to erase his memory? Why was his mind muddled, as opposed to the clarity he claimed he used to feel when he looked upon the statue?

Looking closer, Gicer noticed a nearly-invisible circle drawn around the idol – a complex working of dried blood, exactly the same color as the cloth the idol sat on. He suggested to Tiame that they take the statue to the river, pray over it, and cleanse it. Together, they dipped it into a nearby stream, and the statue began to bleed crimson gouts of blood.

“Scum! Bastards of the heavens! I will send you to hell!” The growled voice was accompanied by an explosion of water, as a Blood Ape, a demon of the first circle, materialized and landed on the grass beside Tiame. In a flash, Tiame’s blade was out, ignited in a wreath of flame. Was this the reason that the statue had disappeared from fate? Could so minor a servant of Malfeas hoodwink the Loom of Fate?

Tiame didn’t care – he only saw the demon that had brought his mind and his family to ruin. His blade flashed out in a merciless crimson arc, carving up the demon’s flesh. Undaunted, the demon struck back, drawing blood from Tiame but not harming him greatly.

On the sidelines watched Gicer, wondering if and when he should get involved. Abandoning his Destiny now could ruin the entire mission – but it wasn’t right to allow noble Tiame to fall in battle!

Another slice solved the dilemma, as Tiame neatly bisected the demon. Blood and ash rained down upon the battlefield, as the Dragon-Blood and Sidereal stood alone in a flaming forest.

“I understand now. My mind is clear. We must take the idol and move far away from here – the demons know where we are. We must find a new place, new spirits, and again seek their aid.”

“Heresy, grandfather.”

Exalt of the Earth and Exalt of the Stars both turned to find Lapas Dricas only a dozen yards away, wielding paired red jade daiklaves in the distinctive stance of the Fire Dragon Style. A shouting match began between these Fire Aspects.

“You’ve ruined this family by turning away from the Immaculate Order!”
“Shut up! I’ve saved us, and we’d all be dead if it wasn’t for the spirits’ protection!”
“Heresy! You corrupt and condemn not only yourself, but your entire family!”
“Don’t speak to me of family, grandson! I am the leader of this house, and we do things MY way!”

Like two comets, they dove at each other, a thousand parries and thrusts in the blink of an eye. As each attacked, the other parried, back and forth like two dragons of flame entwined.

Again, Gicer watched on. Earlier, Dricas had sounded confident that he could defeat Tiame. But Tiame had greater age and greater experience. Could he afford to get involved? Could he afford not to?

(This part of the session turned out perfectly – I just narrated this massive combat, blow by blow, and the players kept arguing back and forth about whether Gicer should step in or not. It was very tense.)

Finally, Gicer remembered one ace he could pull – the talisman against fire he had stolen from the Brisan compound. Ducking behind a flaming tree, he let his Destiny drop, choosing to be his Arcane self as he threw the talisman to Tiame. He caught it, and with a grin, began his Ringing Anvil Onslaught. In the time it takes a flame to flicker, Tiame unleashed five blows. Dricas dodged three, but the last two struck true. Dricas fell, tearing a smoldering gash in the earth. Down, but not dead.

(Before this session, I actually ran combats between Tiame and the Blood Ape, and Tiame and Dricas. I was intending for Tiame to be weakened by the Ape, and then for Dricas to pose a serious threat to his life. However, Tiame ended up slaughtering them both, and taking a single Health Level of damage. Go Dragon-Blooded Melee!)

Gicer saw an opportunity. Since his Destiny was already down, he rushed forward, attempting to steal the valuables from Dricas while his grandfather stood only a few yards away. Tiame got there first, and batted Gicer away with the sheath of his sword. Gicer, seeing his opportunity lost, disappeared into the flaming woods – and reappeared as the Immaculate Priest.

“What have I done…no, I know what I’ve done. I’ve taught the Immaculate Order a lesson, that I run this family, I will do so as I see fit, and I’m not going to be pushed around. It’s not safe here anymore, though. We have nothing keeping us here, our ties were cut long ago. I’m going to take Meiru and leave the Blessed Isle. I think we’ll go to Nexus; nobody will give a damn there, and we’ll be near the spirits of Great Forks. Yes, that will be good. Tell Ridana she should also consider leaving. This place is no longer our home.”

Tiame finally picked up the prize of the battle – the idol – and gazed into it’s golden eyes. His own eyes glazed over, as if one could hear the memories being rewritten as he breathed. He shook his head. “Sorry...what…you, priest, what are…oh, you were here all along, that’s right. That’s right. Yes, that’s fine. But I still don’t sense the presence of the spirits…all the more reason to be on our way. If the Isle won’t be our ally, we’ll find allies.”

Tiame began to tie up Dricas with the fireproof cable Dricas had brought to hold Tiame – not a permanent bind, but enough to give him some extra time to make his escape. “We should part ways, as soon as possible. Here-“ he took Dricas’s paired daiklaves. “He won’t be needing these. Watch over Ridana – I feel she will Exalt soon. She is brave. Be well.”

In silence, they returned to Tiame’s home. Gicer gathered up the other Sidereals, and they were gone before the sun rose again.

Finally, they were done. Finally, order was restored. Finally, this clusterbomb of Dragon-Blooded politics, family feuds, and Immaculate paranoia was at an end. Anxious to get back to the comfort of Yu-Shan, Fas’rial wrapped them in a golden aura, and their horses sped along the road at triple their normal speed.

From time to time, they allowed the aura to fade, to allow Fas’rial to recuperate. It was during one of these lulls that they were nearly run off the road by a proud woman on a fine horse, followed by a pair of wagons. She shouted to them – “Off the road, peasant! Make way for the Exalted!” The wagons displayed proudly the symbols of the Lapas house.

Oh, crap. Lapas Ridana. And she Exalted.

As Ridana continued to spew obscenities, something in Kara’s mind snapped. You see, long before she Exalted, her father, Bakil Laditaken, had been a powerful military leader. And yet he was slain in battle – betrayed by his soldiers, who were turned against him (Kara believed) by the Dragon-Blooded spies of the Realm. This entire journey had been a test of patience from her – her anger at the Dragon-Blooded having seethed for years – and Ridana pushed her past her limit.

She stepped in front of Ridana’s horse, shouting in intimidation, backed up by her willpower, her presence, and the power of her Destiny. Fate works in strange ways, however. On ten or so dice, Kara managed to triple-botch. She merely looked foolish, spouting grunts that she hoped would offend the Exalt before her.

But this was one of those times when a botch worked better than a success. A peasant steps in front of an Exalt’s horse, and tries to intimidate her, but just looks like an idiot. What is a noble Dragon-Blooded to do – except attack, and wipe this scum from the face of the earth? Ridana leapt from her horse in a flaming hammer-strike, and guards began pouring out of the second wagon.

Kara easily parried the novice Exalted’s blow, bringing her terrible great axe to bear. Gicer used his nearly impossible skill to steal the swords from the guards before they even lifted them, flinging them to Fas’rial. The Sidereals were having fun now. Flipping to his hands, Fas’rial juggled the blades, knocking four guards unconscious with the hilts of their own swords. Gicer was less kind with the last two, simply killing them before they could react.

Again, Ridana struck. There was a flash, and silence. If Ridana had thought to bring a scribe, he would be furiously writing away, inspired by the beauty of the blow. Ridana crumpled to the ground, holding her spilled intestines in, as the sun glinted off Kara’s raised axe. At this point, she just didn’t care anymore. If this drove Tiame insane, if it ruined the whole Lapas family, it wasn’t her problem. She beheaded Lapas Ridana, cutting a 700 year career short after just a month of Exaltation.

Gicer began to loot the wagons – then got a better idea. They just stole the wagons, horses, and all. Wisely, they gave Arjuf a wide berth, and put their strength into forcing the wagons up the hill to the gate to Yu-Shan, hoping that Fas’rial’s assurances were right that the gateway to heaven was wide enough to fit an entire wagon.

As they approached the gate, they had one more visitor – Resonant Opal, the Bronze Faction Sidereal who had challenged their entire Circle to combat. Oddly enough, he congratulated them.

“You did okay, this time. The Lapas family is leaving the Isle, so my plans will still work. Remember, though, you may be Sidereals, but you are young and inexperienced, and you will find no aid on the Blessed Isle. There is a reason why you were assigned to the East; it’s the worst job in the Bureau. Work hard and there may be a spot for you among the Imperial Convention.”

With that, he leapt off the ledge and backflipped down the hill. Showoff. With this mission finally done, the Sidereals let their Destinies drop, and returned to Yu-Shan. Finally, they could live like kings of the Heavens…at least until it was time to start their next assignment.

- Session End -

Mengtzu

03-29-2005, 04:25 PM

Heh, very cool, especially the Circle venting on the poor DB at the end ^_^

I was so sure that you were going to bust out a 2nd Circle demon on your Circle when the Blood Ape showed, though - I figured that would be the distraction to get the DB out of the way before the real fight started.

Obviously my habit of attacking lone Sidereals with 2nd Circle demons in their preludes has warped my sense of what's appropriate.

Beri

03-29-2005, 04:49 PM

That would have been nasty, yes :D I was trying to get this mission done with, though - I'd already thrown more than enough misdirection and complications at them for one short assignment. They'll have to deal with worse in the future.

Mutant KaGe

03-30-2005, 12:55 AM

And boy do we look forward to it! The upcoming mission with the Abyssals should be INTERESTING. I can't wait to kick some Exalted butt without the rage of my father's death fueling it. It'll be much more. . . not blood-thirsty. . . I don't know the word I'm looking for. But it should be FUN FUN FUN! Can't wait to see what comes next, Beri.

PS: That sample campaign you were giving out looks like fun! I may have to get four people together and try my hand at GMing again!

Kara :p

That would have been nasty, yes :D I was trying to get this mission done with, though - I'd already thrown more than enough misdirection and complications at them for one short assignment. They'll have to deal with worse in the future.

Beri

03-30-2005, 01:01 AM

PS: That sample campaign you were giving out looks like fun! I may have to get four people together and try my hand at GMing again!

Kara :p

It's been said that the Tomb of 5 Corners isn't very Exalted - that it's just a dungeon crawl, with none of the epic-ness. But who cares? You get to have a good battle scene, solve some puzzles, and play around with some Charms. It got me into Exalted, and helped me rope in another half-dozen at UCI.

One note if you run it - the Dawn Caste, Kage I think, has a horse. It's totally easy to miss until the adventure tells you it runs off. The first time I ran it was like, "Oh, and your horse spooks and runs off." "I have a horse?" "Well, you did."

Mutant KaGe

04-05-2005, 12:07 AM

One note if you run it - the Dawn Caste, Kage I think, has a horse. It's totally easy to miss until the adventure tells you it runs off. The first time I ran it was like, "Oh, and your horse spooks and runs off." "I have a horse?" "Well, you did."

Yeah, I noticed that. LOL. . .but yeah. It looks like a good intro into the game for those who haven't played before. Maybe I can convince my DM to take a break from D&D for a night and let me GM this mini-campaign. There's just the right number of people in the group to do it.

Kara :D

Beri

04-05-2005, 01:09 AM

Session 9: Strange Days, Living in Paradise

In attendance / favorite weapon:
Fas'rial / Starmetal sandals
Kara Laditaken / Greataxe
Gicer / Dex + Larceny

Today featured some strange scenes. But, it was understandable. The Sidereals, filled with pride after their first significant mission, and loaded down with goods and rewards, spend some time relaxing and unwinding in the safety of Yu-Shan. In that situation, who wouldn't want to party?

Our story begins with Gicer, dragging the stolen carriage of Lapas Ridana into Yu-Shan. Since mortal horses certainly would not have been allowed into heaven, the Sidereals dragged it along the streets of Yu-Shan, gaining more than a few strange looks from spirits along the way. Leaving the carriage near the gate to Yu-Shan, they decided to split up - Kara would visit Evening Sonnet, while Fas'rial and Gicer checked in at the Loom of Fate.

Evening Sonnet greeted Kara warmly, and Kara related the story of the idol to her - how a demon had somehow possessed the artifact, and been driven back to Malfeas by the Sidereals. She commented that it was strange - Sonnet had specifically ordered and bribed a band of earth spirits to watch over and defend the idol, which should have been far more than enough to repel a simple Demon of the First Circle. Why were the spirits not at their post?

Kara suggested it might have to do with the presence of Lapas Dricas, but Sonnet insisted it must be something more. Odd, indeed - their dealings with Simlaon had been a result of that god abandoning his post. To see several spirits shirk their duties would not be unusual during Calibration - but that would still be months away.

As Kara turned to leave Sonnet's home, she clutched her stomach, coughing violently as nausea overtook her. Sonnet rushed to her side, drew back, and struck Kara's stomach chakra. Kara immediately spit up a tiny bead of blue jade.

"I realized that none of you really knew the language of the Realm, so I enchanted your last meal in Yu-Shan with essence of air. I hope you don't mind. I expected it to dissolve, but as long as that essence is holding together, hold on to that blue bead; it'll come in handy."

The Beads of the Isle
Many Gold-Faction Sidereals refuse to learn the 'corrupted' languages of High and Low Realm, preferring to communicate in Old Realm. Sometimes, however, a Sidereal must make himself understood. This tiny blue jade bead slips easily under the user's tongue. Over the next few minutes, the user will become able to understand and communicate in High and Low Realm, the languages of the Blessed Isle. However, the user will only be able to understand spoken High and Low Realm while the bead is in his mouth; all other languages are garbled. He may still speak and write in any language he knows. These beads are not permanent artifacts, and have a chance of dissolving when used.

Back at the Loom of Fate, Fas'rial beckoned a Pattern Spider over, and began reviewing some of his pet projects. Falcon Emerald and Wheat and Rain were making love at the moment. Fas'rial asked the Spider if it could identify what the flash of light he had seen in Nexus was, and the Spider replied in the negative. "That event was the result of a high-essence being," it explained, "and such beings warp destiny by their existence. I cannot look back at the destiny of that time with any accuracy."

Gicer tried to entice a Pattern Spider to erase his Paradox, but they were unswayed by his entreaties. Gicer felt a hand on his shoulder. "That won't work, boy," Salesh Enoi told him. "The Spiders have some specific verses they enjoy, and nothing else is of value to them." He went on to explain the Wrapped Fly ritual. Upon hearing that it would take 25 hours, Gicer decided that perhaps he would wait.

Around this time, Kara arrived at the Loom. Around this time, Fas'rial and Gicer began choking. Having observed Evening Sonnet, Kara happily jabbed their chakra. Gicer coughed up a bead, while Fas'rial simply released a burst of blue essence. Still, that was two beads they had, which could be a lifesaver if they ever found themselves on the Blessed Isle or dealing with the Dragon-Blooded again.

Salesh Enoi, suprisingly gentle for the last survivor of the previous Convention of Wood, handed the assembled Sidereals another two mission packets, new assignments that had arrived. He also gave his advice on the Witness to Evil mission - that both Rathess and Thorns would be epic journeys, and that if the Sidereals needed more time and experience, that would be acceptable. Fortunately, Caelan's work might spare them a trip to Rathess, but Thorns was still, very much, a city of the dead.

The first mission was titled A New Dawn, and came from Ayesha Ura. Since the previous Convention of Wood had disappeared, their work with the Cult of the Illuminated had gone unfinished. The Immaculate Order continued to gain power, with the Gold Faction having no way to fight back. Ura implored the Sidereals to seek out the Cult, gain influence and build it up, and if possible, find and recruit a Solar to aid their cause. Ayesha Ura promised training in a single martial art Charm in return for their troubles.

Thinking back, Fas'rial and Gicer suddenly remembered the legends of the First Age. That explosion of light in Nexus...the Solars were said to blaze with divine radiance. Could their home city of Nexus already house one of the returned Solar Exalted?

The other envelope was ominously marked. High ratings for Journeys, Battles, and Endings meant a mission with a great deal of travel, danger, and possibly death. This mission was called 'Blood and Salt'. Opening it up, it described an epic task - join forces with the Directional Convention of Water to uncover a base of the Lintha pirates and strike a telling blow against them. But, it warned, the Lintha would be deadly foes, and might even have Exalted in their employ. Furthermore, with few of the Sidereals knowing how to sail, and none knowing Seatongue, this mission might end in failure before they could even leave port. In return, the Convention of Water promised something called a 'Folding Ship'. What might that be?

While they discussed their missions, Salesh Enoi presented the Sidereals with their reward for their last mission - their choice of light Starmetal Armor, either a breastplate or reinforced buff jacket. Gicer and Fas'rial, heavy martial artists, turned their noses up at the offer of armor, but Kara replaced her old buff jacket with one made from the essence of the stars. Now she was wrapped in a sheath of armor which the heavens themselves would be hard-pressed to pierce.

Salesh Enoi also presented another idea to the Sidereals. Some hardy spirits owed him a favor, and he thought it might be a good idea to have all the Sidereal manses and homes be moved into the same area - probably the Southeast of Yu-Shan, near the gates to the East. It would bring them closer together as a team (and make it easier for the ST to run stories in Yu-Shan). Of course, it would be an epic feat of Celestial Geomancy...but Enoi thought he could probably get it done in a day or so. The gathered Sidereals seemed agreeable, but their absent fellows would also need to weigh in on the matter.

After some discussion, the Sidereals left the Loom of Fate, agreeing to undertake the New Dawn mission first. It sounded simple, and a Solar ally would be useful. Besides, the offer of a free Martial Arts Charm sealed the deal.

Their first order of business, though, was fulfilling a promise to a spirit of the Blessed Isle who had helped them with Lapas Tiame. This air spirit had wanted to see birds of the East fly in the skies of Creation. Kara picked up a net from a friendly shopkeeper-spirit, Fas'rial opened the gate to Creation, and Gicer donned his yet-unused artifact armor, the Crimson Robes of the Unseen Scout (a lesser version of the Crimson Armor of the Unseen Assassin).

Nexus would tell legends of this day, when a silent crimson streak flashed across the riverbanks of Nexus, snatching up seagulls in a blur of motion. In the blink of an eye, a pigeon vanished in a puff of feathers. Between heartbeats, a beautiful songbird vanished from a passing caravan. A red shape cut a swath through the Nexus marketplace, and the guards raised an alarm - but the thief the sought was already vanished across the rooftops, a bird tucked under each arm.

Yes, we spent a good half-hour on Sidereal bird-thieves. The Sidereals now had one sack of angry birds. Fate works in mysterious ways.

Ironically, Gicer got far more strange looks in Yu-Shan than he did in Nexus. A man in red robes with a sack of birds over his shoulder is almost a common sight in Nexus, consider the amount of scum, villainy, and insanity the city sees.

Gicer returned to his ill-gotten carriage with his ill-gotten loot...and found a sealed envelope stuck into the woodwork. Yep...he had been ticketed. "Operating an Inauspicious Vehicle" was the official charge, a fancy name for "Your wagon's ugly." With a sigh, Gicer slipped one of the charms he had stolen from Tiame into the envelope, and the whole thing vanished in a puff of essence. With a sigh, Gicer shouldered his wagon again, and dragged it the distance to Fas'rial's manse. They sent Kara out for paint and supplies, intending to beautify the carriage until it was well-suited for an agent of Destiny.

Soon after, Fas'rial armed himself and Kaloo, his familiar, with paint, and sprung into action, painting the wagon with furious brush-strokes. With a grunt, Gicer heaved his new home into the air, Fas'rial gliding around it as Kaloo filled in details. The carriage smashed back to earth, now colored the blacks and purples of night, with a streak of crimson slashed across the side. Kaloo had composed a lovely haiku about fate-ninjas and Gicer's prowess.

Then they remembered that the wagon had stuff inside. The inside was now a mishmash of clothing, spices, beef jerky, and trashy romance novel-scrolls.

Boys will be boys, and as they looked upon the carriage, a plan was born. A plan to create a vehicle...no...a MonkeyNinjaDeathCar!

That was the exact word. "Can we make it a MonkeyNinjaDeathCar?" asked Gicer to Fas'rial. They began taking notes.

From the East would come planks living, sentient wood, able to weave themselves back together after any injury, and wheels which would never warp or wear down.

From the West would come the scales of a water dragon, armor plating for their creation.

From the South would come stores of firedust, to power cannons and unstable propulsion systems.

From the North would come ice, so cold that no heat can melt it, for the minifridge. (Yes, Exalted has iceboxes. Read Time of Tumult.)

They also planned to harness a spirit to inhabit the wagon, creating a sanctum within so that their wagon could truly be a mobile fortress.

It was crazy, yes. But if my players want to build a MonkeyNinjaDeathCar, then I'm all for doing what my players want.

In return for his aid, Gicer gave Fas'rial one of the two red jade daiklaives he had taken from Lapas Dricas. Fas'rial already owned an exception weapon in his starmetal sandals, however, and elected to simply sell the blade in order to further finance the upgrades to the carriage. He also spent the day performing at relaxation-dens around Yu-Shan, even going to far as to be hired as an entertainer at a spirit's party. It was a good day.

The next wasn't so good, as Fas'rial's performance simply lacked awe. He returned home to his Manse, barely richer than when he left, leaping up the side of the giant paper lantern he lived in and sliding down the ship's mast which grew from the center. As he reached the bottom floor, he noticed a pedestal he had never seen before, and on top, an idol strikingly similar to the one that Sonnet had left with Tiame. Worse yet, looking at it, he realized it had been here all along.

A servant spirit - a tiny ball of light - came upon Fas'rial then, and seeing the statue, began frantically circling him. "With me, master, come with me! Oh my, oh my." Fas'rial followed, to a room carved into the mast - a pantry which he had never had much inclination to visit. There, amidst the foodstuffs, were massive stores of Quintessence and Ambrosia.

"This is your salary, master! Please don't be angry with me, I had to hide it from you! It was crucial...I believe it was crucial...I thought..." (Fas'rial had bought Salary 2 with XP, and this was how I worked it in.)

Fas'rial seized the servant, angry letters swirling around him in a mist of essence. Before he could unleash divine retribution, light flashed around him, signaling a visitor.

"United Parcel Serpent," came a leathery voice from outside. As Fas'rial appeared at the top of his Manse, the reptile-spirit heaved him a beautiful, elegant invitiation. Kara and Gicer received one, too - from Evening Sonnet, inviting them to dinner tonight.

After a dragon boat ride, they arrived at Sonnet's home, where servants were hastily making preparations - as if the party had been called only an hour ago. Upon sighting the Sidereals, the workers scurried into the house, soon replaced by servant-spirits in elegant dress. "Do come in, honored guests!"

Sonnet bade them sit and eat, for a great feast was laid out. The Sidereals asked what the occasion was, but she merely mentioned "an apology" before drawing them off into small talk and smaller desserts. As Gicer continued to bring up the topic of the 'important thing' Sonnet had mentioned, she finally, blushing, confessed.

In magic, there is a concept of 'like affects like'. In order to weave a spell to suppress the memories of Lapas Tiame, she needed other memories as a sacrifice - and, after catching sight of the records of the Convention of Wood, had decided that the knowledge of Fas'rial's salary would be a workable exchange. Now that Tiame was becoming less reliant on the statue, the memories of Fas'rial were being freed. Suddenly, Fas'rial realized that he had been wretchedly poor for a long time - but he hadn't realized it! But now he was rich, Sonnet said, so it was okay, right?

Gicer excused himself, leaving the house on 'business'. He then snuck in the back and robbed the place blind. In Evening Sonnet's bedroom, he found a Starmetal breastplate - the armor promised to Elentari and Zahara, which he knew nothing about.

Downstairs: "I have something that might ease the pain. Come with me to my bedroom," said Sonnet.

Fas'rial and Sonnet arrive at her bedroom. Gicer takes the breastplate and hides in the bathroom. Sonnet rolls better at Per + Awareness than Gicer's Dex + Stealth. Sonnet sends Fas'rial after 'whoever's in the bathroom'. They pretend to fight. Fas'rial kicks a hole in the wall, and Gicer escapes. Great work, guys, stealing something that she was already going to give you!

Fortunately, Fas'rial was able to use the situation to bilk Sonnet out of several bottles of high-quality wine. So of course, Kara challenged Gicer to a drinking contest. Kara has Stamina + Resistance of 9. Gicer has Stamina + Resistance of 2.

Drink 1: Need 1 success. Gicer fails.
Drink 2: Need 2 successes. Gicer fails.
Drink 3: Need 3 successes. Gicer fails, collapses on the floor of the dragon boat and begins conversing with his good imaginary friend, the Lizard King.

About this time, a messenger-bird landed on the prow of the boat, shifting into a humanoid shape. It requested their presence at the Bureau of Nature, informing them that there was information for them. It could only mean one thing - they had cut through Simlaon's deception! Fas'rial steered the boat into the gold lane, and they were off.

At the Bureau of Nature, the peacock-clerk confirmed that there was indeed a file here - for Elentari Rana. She had placed the hold in the first place. To be recognized as allies of Elentari, they would need form 1974-A. Which could only be filed in room 37 on the second floor. Where there was a line, but they could bypass it with a priority ticket, which was in room 39. The clerk there wanted to know their business, but Kara just stole a ticket while his back was turned. Back in room 37, the clerk set down a pile of forms to temporarily make Kara be Elentari. Fas'rial set Kaloo to filling out the forms - the scroll-bird was a tireless secretary and an excellent calligrapher. With a tap of his beak, it was official - Kaloo was Elentari Rana. Somehow. For now.

Back downstairs, the clerk greeted 'Elentari' and gave Kaloo the file.

“Simlaon’s paperwork was all in order, with all the proper signatures - which was itself odd. A minor god like him should not have been able to gain access to a manse in Yu-Shan, certainly not without Wuni-Yan, god of the Yellow River, having had greater priority. Somehow he managed to slip through the cracks in Yu-Shan, abandoning his duties while soaking up the prayers of myriad fishermen.

Wuni-Yan insists that Simlaon was perfectly normal, until you brought the matter to his attention. He didn’t even realize Simlaon was not doing his duty.

All in all, we only have minor offenses against Simlaon. He had the proper forms to live in Yu-Shan, so all we can do is censure him and reduce his power and authority. He will now be bound to watch over a single cloud for the next seventy years, assuring that it rains when commanded and ceases when it is time.

There is one loose end. Two weeks ago, it is recorded in his file that he sent a shipment of heavenly wine out of Yu-Shan. This is, of course, a forbidden act, but again, all the proper signatures are in place, so we cannot fault him for it. The recipient was simply written as ‘Marthesine.’ The problem is, we don’t know who or what Marthesine is. If he is a god or spirit, then Simlaon does not face any penalty for giving him heavenly wine. If he is mortal or Terrestrial Exalted, then we have the evidence we need to bind Simlaon to a desk job for the next millennium.

In your travels, keep an ear open for Marthesine. Certainly, Simlaon would have more answers, but we cannot question him directly until we call him to judgment, which may be some time. His manse is guarded, but our forces are limited; a capable person, or group of persons, could certainly make their way inside and confront Simlaon in his Manse. Hopefully, of course, that won’t happen. For the time being, a thorough investigation can wait; we understand if you have your hands full with other duties.
- The Bureau of Nature”

The Sidereals got the hint, and set off for Simlaon's manse. It was time to beat some answers out of our favorite water-god.

Beri

04-12-2005, 12:43 AM

Session 10: Iron-Fist Bureaucracy

Fas'rial, Gicer, Zahara, Caelan, and Kara in attendance.

As you may have noticed, Elentari has not been with us for a while. Her player has been bogged down with schoolwork, and will be taking a hiatus from the game until at least the end of this semester.

The official party line on that is that, after returning to Yu-Shan, Elentari woke up, but groggy, and sometimes saying things that sounded like someone else's voice. Her fellows' skill with medicine indicated that this was not an illness at all, but some sort of fate-related calamity. At the Loom of Fate, Salesh Enoi identified it as a sort of destiny resonance - she had caused too many people to believe she was Lapas Ridana, and when the real Ridana approached, their lines became tangled and Elentari slipped into unconsciousness.

Soon after, she awoke - babbling something about having seen a light on the other side of destiny - and packed her things, traveling to Creation to meditate on the nature of destiny and essence.

As for Caelan and Zahara, they returned, but where had they been? As you remember, Zahara had a heck of a time making a Resplendent Destiny, failing several rolls. Well, it is possible to just have a bad streak at something, especially when astrology is involved. Bad luck struck again - shortly after they met the Lapas family and joined the other Sidereals, Zahara's Destiny abruptly ended.

When a Destiny ends, the Arcane Fate takes over, and people tend to forget that person quite quickly. Realizing that her own Destiny relied on Zahara's Destiny to make sense, Caelan spent her remaining Effect Points, ending the Resplendent Destiny early. Basically, it became as if they had never met the Lapas family at all. Rather than risking further Paradox with a hastily-done astrology attempt, they slipped away from the memories of the Lapas family, and retreated back to Yu-Shan. Right now they're resting and working on the astrology to create new and better Destinies for themselves.

Fas'rial, Kara, and Gicer traveled from the Bureau of Nature back to Simlaon's Manse. Fas'rial sent Kaloo to gather Zahara and Caelan, and they waited outside the manse for the other Sidereals to arrive via Caelan's personal dragon boat. Kaloo was greeted at Caelan's home by Rai, her familiar raiton - although they are both technically birds, it seemed that Rai and Kaloo had little in common. The scroll-bird was happy to deliver its message and return to Fas'rial.

Simlaon's manse was sealed up tight, although for the forces of heaven, the watchdog spirits were barely worth noting. The front door of the manse was sealed with a steel and jade padlock, and the great spout in the top of the manse appeared to be sealed by nothing less than a giant cork. Around the perimeter, six spirits marched - male versions of the Sirens of the West, unarmed but still deadly. At least, without water, they would not drown in the Sirens' embrace...

Worse yet, only a few dozen yards away was a blue jade pillar, an emergency alarm to the Celestial Lions which would mean severe trouble for any law-breaking Sidereals.

Due to their difficulties battling Simlaon earlier, the Sidereals resolved to force him out of his manse before battling him. Unfortunately, the security detail was devoted to keeping him in his manse and keeping others out. Like all obstacles, they would need to be overcome.

At first, the Exalted hoped that their status in the Bureau of Destiny would simply allow them to call Simlaon out. They walked up to the guards, all smiles and gentleness, but were met with a simple "Leave the manse, now." Had they pressed the issue, perhaps the Sirens would have buckled, but they held firm. The Bureau of Destiny is only one of the Bureaus of Yu-Shan, and the celestial censors assigned to watch over rogue gods such as Simlaon often stood above all of them.

Plan B involved Fas'rial forging an elaborate document - if Simlaon could not leave his manse until he was to appear to stand trial, then he would simply convince the guards that today was Simlaon's court date. He passed the forged decree to Caelan, who approached the manse. The forgery was good, but not good enough to overcome the orders of the Sirens, who knew specifically when he was due to be led from his manse, specifically who would be authorized to see him, and had been given a specific duty. Yu-Shan would require a better plan than a hastily-forged document that would pass in Nexus.

As the spirit shouted for Caelan to leave the manse, her patience ended. She slung her staff off her back - reinforced by Fair Folk gossamer - and vaulted over the guards, becoming a whirling mass of hands, staff, and feet until she reached the doorway. However, she found it shut.

The Secrets of Future Strife revealed this conflict to the Sidereals moments before it occured, and they were all ready for battle long before the spirits knew they were engaged.

Seeing Caelan in need, Zahara withdrew an artifact she carried - a key which could fit any lock. Drawing the rays from the sunlight around her, she wove an unstoppable arrow, winding the key into the strands and firing a glimmering shot to slam into the door near Caelan.

Two of the guards had already begun to dash towards the blue jade pillar, but Gicer and Kara intercepted them, forcing them both to full parry in order to survive their onslaught.

Gicer and Caelan also boosted themselves with Blade of the Battle Maiden to near-absurd levels. Some Sidereal Charms are VERY potent.

As the initiative of battle shifted to the guardian spirits, they unleashed the attack for which they were feared in the West. Diving at the three exposed Sidereals, the Sirens forced Caelan and Zahara into a clinch, leaving the lock closed and the key stuck in the door. One tried to clinch Fas'rial, but he defended with the Grasping Mantis Defense, still locked in a clinch but in control.

(It took me a while to get the hang of the PC clinch rules - extra successes actually don't make the clinch harder to break. I ran it wrong for a while. I like the PC rules, though.)

Kara fought defensively, mostly trying to keep the Siren from the blue jade pillar. Gicer did the same, but did not hesitate to use the blade of his red jade daiklave. They met little progress for some time, though, due to some lousy rolls.

Fas'rial slowly wore his opponents down, gaining an advantage by shifting his shapechanging clothes into one of their special forms, the Chaos Blood Ravager inspired by the Wyld, which shredded the foes he grappled against a harness of bloody feathers. After one Siren fell unconscious, he began on another, likewise catching it in the Grasping Mantis Defense.

Caelan and Zahara fared not as well, however. Caelan's stiff armor protected her from much of the damage of the clinch, but Zahara suffered health level after level as her joints were wrenched and her torso crushed. In addition, the spirit poured his power to Paralyze into her, levying a -2 penalty in addition to the -4 wound penalty she quickly fell to.

With some luck, they were able to drive off the spirits, leaving four unconscious and two dead. They came very close to being locked in an unending clinch, however, which would have left five unconscious Sidereals - and some very angry celestial censors. Sometimes enemies don't need to be as powerful as the Exalted to be dangerous, if they can use the advantages they have.

Zahara crawled back to her feet and again grasped her key, sending her essence through it to unravel the lock. It fell gently at her feet, and Fas'rial booted the door in.

Inside was the manse, with hovering balls of water, heavenly shafts of sunlight...and no spirit within. They spread out, searching every inch of the manse, until they came to one conclusion. No secret doors, no exits, no escape. Not only was Simlaon gone, all his belongings were gone, his pearl throne...in fact, the more they searched, the more it seemed that this manse had never been inhabited at all. Yet they knew this to be false - they had visited the god mere weeks earlier. If his throne was gone, why was there no impression? No scratches were it had been dragged out? Why was there not even a flake of the coral which once lined the edges of the room to be found?

The theories began flying. Either Simlaon had escaped, or someone wanted the Sidereals to believe that he was in his manse. Who? Why? Was it Marthesine, mentioned by the Bureau of Nature? Was it corruption in heaven? How deep did it run? Were the Sidereals mere bystanders, or were they the targets? Suddenly, Yu-Shan was not the safe haven of the defenders of Destiny anymore.

With no clear path to take, the Sidereals decided that the best course of action would be to continue enforcing Destiny in Creation. Clues would come, and mysteries would unravel themselves, with any luck. They turned their attention to their next mission, A New Dawn, and considered how best to approach it.

Unlike the Immaculate Order, they knew little about the Cult of the Illuminated. The previous Convention of Wood had left no notes on structure, hierarchy, purpose, or even if they were respected in the Threshhold. It would certainly still be a heresy, and much of the Scavenger Lands still gave lip service tribute to the Realm.

With their course set, it was time to whip up some more Resplendent Destinies, something nice that would make some good sense in Nexus. They decided on a loosely gathered caravan, which might rapidly be changed to a pilgrimage to the Cult if necessary. They spent three days praying, working, and making the proper motions.

Fas'rial created Dar'tal, a caravan driver of the Constellation of the Gull.

Gicer had no clever name yet, but created a librarian, under the Constellation of the Guardians.

The other Exalts would have to wait until next week, as we ran out of time. (And I was hoping to do the entire mission tonight! Well, combat is a timesucker, and we still had some basic mechanics stuff to work out. We did great, though.)

Beri

04-26-2005, 11:17 AM

Session 11: The Sun's Light

For OOC reasons, Caelan and Zahara have left the group, but we have a new player joining, bringing us to an even 5 (once Elentari returns to us).

Caste and character, followed by their current Resplendent Destiny College and name.

Journeys - Fas'rial
The Gull - Dar'tal, a joyful caravan driver with a wounded mouth, seeking the Cult of the Illuminated so he can revel in their Solar joy.

Battles - Kara Laditaken
The Captain - Kagome, whose stance exudes leadership and authority.

Secrets - Gicer
The Guardians - An unnamed librarian following the Cult of the Illuminated to chronicle their status.

And introducing:
Serenity - Feral Beast of Celestial Grace
The Ewer - Celeste, a peaceful monk known for her prowess at the tea ceremony.

Session start!

With these last few missions, Caelan had grown frustrated - they were merely tests, fetch-quests to cover up someone else's screwups. The Sidereals were spending too much time on trival things and not enough on important quests. She and Zahara left the group, heading to the further East to deal with fate as problems arose, taking care of minor dilemmas so that the others could deal with more significant quests.

Having taken a day or so to create Resplendent Destinies after pounding the Sirens and finding Simlaon's manse empty, the Sidereals remembered a minor detail they had forgotten, the sack of birds in Gicer's wagon. The bag rocked back and forth as pigeons, seagulls, showbirds and crows fought and tore at each other and the bag. Hoisting his troublesome bundle over a shoulder, Gicer, Kara, and Fas'rial hoofed it back to the pavilion where they could find the 12 gateways to the Blessed Isle.

Fas'rial opened the gateway to Creation, but before the birds could be put through, they gave a loud, angry shriek. Now, Gicer had recently found his familiar again in Yu-Shan, a well-tamed panic monkey. But his training faltered, and the monkey flew into a rage of claws and fangs, scurrying up and down Gicer's body and screaming.

While Gicer dealt with that, Fas'rial opened the bag and hurled it through the gateway - but before it flew too far, he reached in and pulled out a beautiful show bird. You see, the Sidereals had been having a short debate about what would happen if they fed the birds Ambrosia. Fas'rial decided to experiment, plunging the bird's beak into the solidified prayer food. Seeing no immediate effect, he flipped the bird through the gateway.

Somewhere near Arjuf, a canvas bag tumbled down a mountainside, a steady stream of Eastern birds pouring out the side.

About this time, Gicer's panic monkey flew over to Fas'rial and grabbed the ambrosia away from him, dashing to the side of the street to gnaw on his new treasure. Shortly he became calm.

The Sidereals went to the Loom of Fate next, to investigate Simlaon. Pulling out the scrap of paper from the Bureau of Nature, they found it stained and damaged - with the name of whoever Simlaon had been dealing with suspiciously worn through and unreadable.

They searched the threads of the Loom for Simlaon, but found him nowhere. Fas'rial decided to look for Wuni-Yan, the god of the Yellow River, and they traced his thread. Many times, other threads crossed Wuni-Yan's thread, shifting each thread slightly. And several times, there were shifts in Wuni-Yan's thread - shifts, perhaps, where he dealt with Simlaon - but there was no other thread there.

Something was strange. The Sidereals began to fear for their own memories, but what could they do? Not only did they have few clues, but the clues they had were fading away. Their best option seemed to be to continue their missions - they had stumbled across strange dealings with memory and fate with the Lapas family and with Simlaon, so perhaps simple time would reveal more of the mystery.

So they went down to Nexus. Their next assignment was to attempt to track down one of the returned Solar Exalted, and to find a haven of the Cult of the Illuminated in the Scavenger Lands, and Nexus was the best place to start.

Fas'rial tore open the boundary between heaven and earth, and the Sidereals stepped into Creation...and into a mass of streamers, junk, and grafitti strewn around the gate to Yu-Shan. The gate itself was pristine, having subtly shifted itself out of the fates of becoming defaced or damaged. The perpetrators would have been easy for Gicer to track, but it would have done little good; most likely, they were just some teenagers who thought they would have a little fun in the undercity of Hollow. Not the nicest place for a party.

The Sidereals began their investigation, by wondering if anyone else had already investigated. Fas'rial sent off a tiny Pattern Spider made of essence, tasked to answer the question, "Has anyone been seriously investigating the explosion of light that we saw?" The answer came back "the Bronze Tiger Mercenary Company" before the spider vanished.

Kara suggested that the place to find a representative of this company would be the Little Market of Nexus, so they set off that way. Fas'rial, having expended a good deal of his essence, searched for an orphanage, and there he danced, entertaining the children in exchange for their activating his Compassionate Essence Replenishment.

Meanwhile, Feral Beast of Celestial Grace was gently pouring tea for several merchants who had come through Nexus. Then two Sidereals walked by her shop. She noticed them, they noticed her, and with only about 100 Sidereals in Creation, it's always worthwhile to talk to a fellow.

Celeste had been in Nexus for several years, creating a front identity in order to observe the comings and goings of the Guild, since the Bureau of Destiny is currently not quite sure whether to aid the growth of the Guild or tear it out like a weed. Well-paid but unnoteworthy, Celeste was generally unrecognized in Yu-Shan and wasn't considered a member of the Convention of Wood, even though she had lived in Nexus for many years. Still, there was no reason why she couldn't aid the group.

She soon closed up shop, and they asked about any unusual comings and goings. She mentioned that she had recently done a ceremony for a circle of five Dragon-Blooded, who had paid in real jade coin instead of the silver dinar. She also knew the general area where the burst of light had occurred (she had briefly searched it out) and led them to the Bastion District.

In the middle of a pristine, clean street, Gicer went to work, fueling his vision with Charms and searching for clues. He discovered that many things - the brick path they walked on, the plaster walls, the grass in the front lawns - had either been repainted or replanted recently, and underneath was the stark white of bones or papers bleached by the sun. Secondly, he found tiny scratches, splinters of wood, and scraps of leather, but no broken blades, discarded arrowheads or other bits of metal. The evidence implied that the Solar had been facing off against about 10 men, but that they did not want to kill him, and he did not want to kill them.

Gicer also sniffed the air, feeling it charged with essence, and felt a sense that the Solar had gone north - most likely across the Yellow River. They set off.

At the northern docks, many ships waited as their crews spent the night with harlots in Nexus. Several ferries stood ready to take people to the other side, at a cost of only a few yen.

Too much for Gicer. He and Fas'rial set out to steal a ship to sail the 300 feet to the other side of the river. They weren't the first people to have ever tried this, though, and every ship had guards watching all alleys and hidden places. Gicer rolled poorly, the guards rolled well, and Gicer and Fas'rial decided to retreat for now back to the ferries.

In the meantime, Celeste and Kara had taken an available ferry across, and were enjoying tea on the other side.

Gicer and Fas'rial had to hail down a ferry and wait several minutes while he docked, then spent the short journey being regailed with tales of the captain's baudy love life. They arrived about twenty minutes after Celeste and Kara.

Here, Gicer lost the trail in the underbrush, so they followed a path to a nearby village (which could still see Nexus across the Yellow). Seeing that all the windows in the tavern were shattered, Gicer talked to the bartender, who explained that several Dragon-Blooded had come in yesterday, talking about a hunt but seeming to be off the trail. In anger, one of them bellowed sharply, shattering all the windows - but that's okay, because they paid for them in real jade coin! The bartender mentioned that it seemed like they were heading back to Nexus to search more. Fas'rial confirmed this information, having spoken to a child of the city.

It was getting later in the day, but there was still time to cross the river again (Fas'rial and Gicer working together to get one of them a free fare) and head to the Little Market to seek out the Bronze Tigers.

As they walked through the row of mercenary companies, their representatives shouted slogans, their success rate, the famous criminals they had brought in, and so on. If anything, the representative of the Bronze Tigers was quiet - like he didn't have to advertise. And true enough, his customers came to him.

Celeste and the others began asking him about the flash of light, and the investigation being done by the Bronze Tigers. He gave them the option of hiring the Bronze Tigers, or purchasing information for a nominal fee, but when they continually tried to press him for information about the Solar, he shut up and told them simply that they would have to talk to Captain Dace about that. Absolutely adamant was he that no information regarding this operation was for sale without Captain Dace's approval.

The Sidereals also tried to get themselves hired on with the Bronze Tigers, but the man chuckled and refused. After all, dozens of men come by each day hoping for a post among the elite mercenary company of Nexus, and they had no use for such a ragtag group.

So, armed with a map, they went down to the Bronze Tigers, calling out that they had been hired as Bronze Tigers and that they wanted to see Dace. Their mercenary compound was more of a fortress placed in the heart of Nexus, with guards and sturdy stone walls. The gates opened slightly, and behind them was a broad man, bald with a goatee, armed with heavy armor and a commanding presence. He greeted them as the leader of the Bronze Tigers, and when they proceeded to press him for information about the Solar they sought, he would not budge. As their smooth-talking dissolved into desperate ideas and half-hearted bluffs, he bade them good night and the gates shut. Celeste jammed her staff into the gap as they closed, amazingly surviving being crushed between two gigantic slabs of iron. The gates opened a sliver, just enough for the staff to be pushed back out, and for Dace to command them, with authority resonating in his voice, to leave. Suddenly they felt that leaving would be a very good idea, and that this Dace was not a man to be trifled with.

They had a new plan. Back to mercenary row, many of the companies were closing up shop. Celeste now had a sling, and hurtled a rock at the representative's head, stunning him while Gicer wrapped him in the cloth canopy of his stall. All this, they did without raising a sound or drawing attention. They stole back into the Little Market, and ducked into Celeste's shop.

Gicer and Celeste began torturing the poor fellow for information. Gicer gave his panic monkey a knife and placed him on the man's genitals, idly musing about how awful and messy it would be if a loud noise were to make him panic. Celeste set up water torture. The man held out for a good long time, but ultimately the Sidereals were able to come up with more creative tortures than he could handle. He told them that all talk of that instance had been firmly forbidden by Captain Dace. Why? Because he was also Exalted, and had a personal stake in this. He didn't know any more, he said, just that Dace had been heading up that investigation personally.

Not done yet, Celeste stole a mule, tying the man's ankles to it and dragging him down the street in the direction of the Bronze Tigers compound. Along the way, she was stopped by a patrol of the city guard, but they were more than happy to buy her story of an abusive husband when a jade coin came their way.

As they approached the Bronze Tigers...well, I'm honestly not sure what their plan was here, but they slit the man's throat and pushed the mule towards the Bronze Tigers, then ran back to rejoin the other Sidereals.

Back with Fas'rial, Kara had activated the Charm of Prior Warning some time earlier. She now got a very strong sense that something bad was about to happen, in about five minutes!

About five minutes later, Gicer and Celeste rejoined the group, near the doorway to Celeste's shop. Then, the sky lit up, as a pair of minature suns, filled with boiling rock and crackling with flame, shot towards Gicer and Celeste. Fas'rial had already activated the Trouble Reduction Strategy, which allowed him to use his Absence Charm to aid Gicer's full dodge, narrowly ducking out of the way as the stones where he had been standing erupted into flame. Celeste knocked hers aside with Impeding the Flow, and it tore a flaming gash in the earth.

About three hundred yards away, barely visible, they could make out a woman on a rooftop, drawing another arrow to her bow. She glowed fiercely in yellows wrapped in purple, and her bow glimmered in her light. They also heard footsteps approaching, but it only sounded like one man.

The Sidereals went defensive, but Fas'rial leapt up towards the woman, advancing on her as he reformed his clothing into shimmering golden robes, and used his lightform gem to mimic a glowing Solar caste mark on his forehead. She paused, unsure what to do next, but kept her bow trained on him.

Around the corner blazed Captain Dace, suddenly upon them faster than a falcon flies. With a shout, he dove at Celeste with daiklave raised - and she Impeded the Flow, one, two, three times, with no harm done.

Gicer tried to strike at Dace, but his combo activated, a great essence-tiger leaping from the earth to bat Gicer's blade aside and counterattack - but Fas'rial allowed Gicer to Duck Fate. Dace's blade struck true, but the negative consequences (that is, injury) simply failed to materialize.

The dark-skinned woman before Fas'rial let her bow relax, putting away her broadhead arrow - then swiftly drew a fowling arrow, letting the blunt shaft fly into his forehead. Fas'rial did well dodging, but soon the archer wore him down, and he fell unconscious.

By that time, Gicer had already wrapped his crimson robes around himself and fled, Kara escaped (for they seemed less interested in her) and Celeste retreated swiftly, Impeding the Flow as she went until she could catch Dace off-guard, use Wise Choice to get out of his sight, then escape with Soft Presence Practice.

Fas'rial was taken back to the Bronze Tigers compound, and it suddenly seemed like all of Celeste and Gicer's bravado wasn't the best way to approach an elite mercenary company headed by the Exalted. Once they had time to lick their wounds, they would launch a rescue mission - but how would they infiltrate what is likely the most secure stronghold in Nexus?

Mutant KaGe

04-26-2005, 03:41 PM

ACUTALLY Beri. . . . Kara's cover name is Kagome. . . with an M not an N. :)

Beri

04-26-2005, 03:48 PM

Fixed!

Mengtzu

04-26-2005, 05:39 PM

Awesome as always.

Though I can't help but have my heart warmed by Sidereals getting their butts kicked by Solars ^_^

Beri

04-26-2005, 05:44 PM

Though I can't help but have my heart warmed by Sidereals getting their butts kicked by Solars ^_^

They came pretty close to an even fight. Impeding the Flow is really, really useful. The Solars would bust out ULTIMATE COMBO O' DOOM, and...Impeding the Flow!

Mengtzu

04-26-2005, 05:55 PM

They came pretty close to an even fight. Impeding the Flow is really, really useful. The Solars would bust out ULTIMATE COMBO O' DOOM, and...Impeding the Flow!

Silly Solars. Spam attack until you know what you're dealing with ;)

Beri

05-03-2005, 01:08 AM

Our returning champions: Fas'rial, Kara, Gicer, and Celeste.

Session 12: The Bronze Tigers

Our last session ended with Fas'rial captured by a pair of Solars, while the others escaped, wounded but alive. They fled across the river, to the tavern where Gicer had asked about the Dragon-Blooded previously. There they bandaged their wounds and rested, pooling thier minds to come up with a plan.

They also took the time to confess to Kara, since she still had no knowledge of what they had done. The exchange was something like:
"Well, it's about a donkey."
"You killed their donkey?"
"No, no, the donkey was fine, it was just carrying the dead body."

Fortunately, for a Sidereal, even the most massive loss of cover is only a minor setback. Within an hour, Gicer and Celeste had woven new Resplendent Destinies. Gicer hoped to win over their hearts with Bubba, a tough but simple-minded man out to join the Bronze Tigers to avenge his family. Celeste aimed lower, and was now Angela, a sexy yet underage girl.

But before all that, they slept, needing a break for their wounds to heal and their minds to resteady.

Fas'rial woke up in a dimly-lit room, chained to a chair which was bolted to the floor. The dark-skinned archer watched him with a glare, but did not speak until Captain Dace came to interrogate him. Finding that Fas'rial was mute, he was given a chalkboard and chalk, which he used to ask for his Lightform Gem. That made communication easier, as he could create glowing words in the air.

Dace had the edge in this situation - both by immobilizing Fas'rial, and by Solar social skills. He began with a simple question. "You're not mortal, and you're not Dragon-Blooded, and although you put up a good show, you're not a Solar. What are you?"

The Sidereals had disappeared 1500 years ago...but so had the Solars. Could Dace be trusted? Would a confession bring a new age of glory to the world, or simply bring the weight of the Realm down upon Yu-Shan? Fas'rial decided to play it safe - now was not the time to sacrifice subtlety. As Dace questioned him, he gave a 'speech' about how he was an agent of destiny, empowered by means he did not fully understand to bring the world back to it's rightful order. Not a lie, but not an answer either.

Fas'rial tried to turn the tables around, to convince Dace and the woman who Dace called Harmonious Jade to abandon their petty mercenary work and embrace their destinies, but Dace would have none of it. "I've worked many hours to build a safe and comfortable place for myself in Nexus," he argued, "and I'm not going to throw that away over a dream."

Dace also mentioned that he knew something of the Solar they were trying to find - but that if Fas'rial wouldn't be open and honest about who he was and who he worked for, then Dace would withhold his information as well.

Besides, Dace had little reason to deal with Fas'rial. Although he had not actually fought Dace or Jade, he had been speaking with those who Jade had tracked after the murder of the Bronze Tiger, and Fas'rial was his bait to lure them closer.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, 'Angela' pulled her 'innocent and vulnerable' act on a passing patrol of the Bronze Tigers, giving a sob story of how her poor brother wanted nothing more than to be a Bronze Tiger, and what could she do? The lieutenant was very happy to discuss things with Angela, giving her some tidbits that she fed to Gicer to make his attempt more appealing.

And later, when 'Bubba' did appear, brutish and buff, he was given a chance to prove himself. After a brief questioning and establishment of loyalty, he was training and doing calisthenics with the other Bronze Tigers! It would have brought tears to Bubba's mother's eyes, if she actually existed.

Kara hung around outside. As she often did, she managed to avoid the brunt of the trouble simply by being unobtrusive and not killing anybody.

The Solars had taken everything from Fas'rial, but he had one idea left, and called upon his psychic link with Kaloo, who had been tossed in book-form into a closet, along with Fas'rial's other equipment. By tapping on the door, Kaloo was able to lure a guard over long enough to slip out the opened door and fly free.

Kara noticed the bird and called him down, establishing a brief and awkward dialogue with Fas'rial as Kaloo spit up beautifully calligraphed messages from his lost master. They decided that the simplest path would be for Fas'rial to ask Dace to meet with Kara, and discuss the murdered mercenary on more equal terms.

Meanwhile, Gicer was also using his familiar. He slipped away from the mercenary crowd and over towards their brig, where he released his panic monkey to crawl around, investigate, and see what he could steal. The brig had eight cells, solid steel isolation chambers - four with viewing slits open and prisoners visible inside, and four closed. The guards patrolling this area gave the last cell a wide berth, whispering to each other - a likely place to find Fas'rial.

The monkey also found the armory that Kaloo had escaped from, and managed to grab Fas'rial's Eternal Night Guardian Sandals before the guard noticed. Ironically, this helpful gesture caused some confusion.

A few minutes earlier, Dace had returned to Fas'rial, and agreed to meet with Kara. He had mentioned that once he had his murderers, Fas'rial would be free to go, but that he wanted to hold on to the sandals and have a sorcerer-savant analyze them. Although the discovery of the Starmetal would not alone be damning, it might lead Dace on the right track to the truth. Fortunately, Gicer had already stolen them.

As Gicer tucked away the sandals and ducked behind the brig, a big, burly hand slapped him on the shoulder.

"Hey, what have you got there, mate? Contraband? Let me have some!" Another mercenary. Gicer came up with a quick story about a gift for his sister. "Ha, that's great! Let me see! What is it, jewelry or something?" Thinking quickly, Gicer turned his back to the man, and uncorked his last vial of the crystal honey hallucinogen. Pouring the rest of the honey over a small cracker he happened to have, he offered it to the man. "You gotta try this! It's great - look at my muscles!" The other mercenary took it and ate it. "Wow, I'm feeling it!" He then ran back to the training ground, did about three frantic jumping jacks, then fell over, foaming at the mouth. Gicer left, rapidly.

Kara proceeded inside, meeting Captain Dace and fifty of his best troops. Much like Fas'rial, when questioned about who she was, she explained that she simply couldn't explain. By this time, Dace had heard enough talk, and just wanted his murderers. They wouldn't be killed, he promised - merely made to feel the weight of their crime.

Kara innocently called Celeste and Gicer over, asking for their help with Dace...then when she confirmed that these were the killers, Dace's men moved with lightning speed, surrounding the Sidereals with a maze of spear-points. All three Sidereals were manacled, although Kara was treated much less roughly. Celeste and Gicer confessed their crime, although not honestly; like a good Sidereal, they wove a lie of how they had simply been questioning him and accidentally killed him, and sent him back to the Tigers for a 'proper burial.'

Gicer and Celeste were clamped into a pillory in the center of the training fields, and bushels of old fruits and vegetables were carted in from the Nexus markets. Each member of the Bronze Tigers took their turn, and over the next three hours, the Sidereals were pelted with half-rotted tomatoes and spongy oranges. Many of the men called out curses for the life of their comrade; others were simply eager to hurt someone else; others were simply so jaded by the deaths they had seen that they merely gave a half-hearted lob to their produce. Even Kara took a turn, as did Fas'rial once Dace allowed him to leave, throwing an apple that split in the air to strike both of his comrades.

Dace left them to dry under the hot Nexus sun for the next hour, then finally cut them down in the hopes that they had learned two important lessons: murder is bad, and you don't mess with the Bronze Tigers. One by one they were escorted out of the Bronze Tiger compound.

Wiping seeds and citrus from their eyes and hair, the Sidereals decided that their day had been long enough. They retreated to the undercity of Hollow, and finally back to the paradise of Yu-Shan, to lick their wounds, bathe, and rest further. A plan was hatched to call in the favors owed by Evening Sonnet, but the exact details would be hammered out later.

Gicer, having no manse of his own, snuck into Fas'rial's manse to use his bathing facilities. However, for as eccentric as Fas'rial can be at times, Gicer should have expected that bathing would be strange too. Entering what looked like the bathroom, Gicer was suddenly assaulted by dozens of glowing motes of light, swirling all around him and shearing off dirt and hair. He was left utterly clean and neatly shaven.

Feral Beast of Celestial Grace was met at her manse - which she had not used for five years - by a surprised and servile spirit who immediately took to drawing up a bath for her. As soon as she got comfortable, a chime declared the arrival of a visitor. Sighing, she drew a robe around her and went to the door.

Salesh Enoi, Gold-Faction Sidereal, had come to welcome her back to Yu-Shan and question her motives. Would she be a part of the Convention of Wood? Did she wish to take on more duties? Celeste promised answers later, but for now, shooed him off to return to her bath.

She got one toe in the tub when the door-chime rang again. This time she was greeted by a half-dozen spirits, bringing gifts of quintessence and requests for minor favors in Creation. She directed them to a shrine in her backyard, then shut and latched the door, returning to her bathing.

So the Sidereals rested, restoring their wounded bodies and sanity. The last few days had been rough; most of them were wounded, low on willpower and higher on paradox, forced to go through Resplendent Destines rapidly and for little gain. The operation had been a success - Fas'rial had been rescued, and without spilling the secrets of heaven. But they were no closer to finding the lost Solar, or completing their mission. And there were still those reports of the Dynastic Dragon-Blooded in Nexus. Time was rapidly becoming precious, and who knows how long they could afford to rest in Yu-Shan before it would be too late?

Mengtzu

05-03-2005, 08:15 PM

Cool. Looking forward to the next installment!

Beri

05-09-2005, 11:21 PM

Session 13: More cover-ups

This week brought further efforts by the Sidereals to cover up their contact with the Solars. Being their first slip-up regarding their identities, they decided not to trust the Arcane Fate, and to take the matter of memory into their own hands.

Celeste took a moment to contact Salesh Enoi, and confirm that, for the moment, she did not wish to be officially a part of the Directional Convention of Wood. Yet, she did agree to aid the Convention whenever they were in Nexus, and to watch out for them when possible - so for the time being, she was with Wood in everything but name.

Fas'rial and Kara travelled several hours by dragon boat to see Evening Sonnet, the Sidereal who had altered the memories of Lapas Tiame, to see if she could perform a similar trick against Dace and Harmonious Jade. Sonnet was agreeable, but made clear to them that there were a few wrinkles to be worked out of the spell she used. First of all, they would need for the item to be enchanted to be easily viewable and reflected upon by the people they wished to influence. Second, like affects like - if they wished to suppress the memories of others, they would need to willingly forget a memory of their own.

First, they would need an item which the Solars would often see. Gicer had a brilliant idea, and suggested the banner of the mercenaries, always flying over the compound. So it was off to Nexus, for another operation against the Bronze Tigers.

Gicer dashed through the streets of Nexus, arriving at the Tigers compound only to realize that their plan - to replace the banner with a counterfeit - was missing the counterfeit. Fortunately, Fas'rial realized the same thing, and traveled through Hollow to meet him at the Tigers - after scaring off a pack of scavenger wolves beneath Nexus who tried to corner him. Fas'rial and Kaloo whipped together a crude mockery of the flag, then started working on the geometry of the next phase.

Gicer hoped to, with Fas'rial's aid, simply leap from a tree outside the compound to the nearest flagpole inside - a distance of nearly 150 feet. They made a noble effort, but Gicer fell about 60 feet short. Undaunted, he dashed to the flagpole and scaled it, replaced the flag with hardly a rustle, and leapt toward the wall - and again, failed to clear it. Dusting himself off and silently disappearing over the wall of the compound, he vanished into the night - yet a strange feeling of having been seen followed him. Was it merely paranoia?

Back to Yu-Shan, where Evening Sonnet enchanted the flag with a Celestial Circle spell (a rather simple one, still needing some work), entwining Fas'rial's memories with Dace's and Harmonious Jade's, and suppressing them all. Within a minute, Fas'rial had forgotten that he ever had that memory in the first place...whatever his secret memory was.

And back to Nexus, where Gicer walked into the compound again as Bubba, the lazy but likeable guy who skipped out on a day of training to see his sister. After being barked at by his Bronze Tiger commander, he began looking for an opportunity to stash the enchanted flag somewhere in the area. It had become light, and there was already some alarm and confusion as to who had created this mockery of the Bronze Tigers' symbol.

As 'Bubba' did his morning excercises, Captain Dace came by to check on the troops. He passed by the formation, nodding in approval...and giving Gicer one good...long...stare. Soon he was underway, but more questions had arisen - what did Dace know?

Opportunity knocked in the form of the soldier Gicer had fed the drugged cracker to last time. Gicer got him interested in more of the drug, and the soldier created a distraction so they could slip back to the barracks and he could grab some jade. He opened his locker, but closed it again in annoyance when he found out that 'Bubba' didn't actually have any drug on him. Once he was gone, it was a simple matter to pick the lock, plant the flag, and be gone, hoping that the soldier was seen as a prankster rather than executed for actions he never performed.

As they returned to Yu-Shan, Gicer and Fas'rial were accosted by a trio of hungry beasts - Omen Dogs. They dispatched them without breaking a sweat, but it was becoming clear that Hollow was not the safe haven they had earlier believed.

Back to Yu-Shan. The Sidereals really broke some records for trips to heaven this session. They met up at the Loom of Fate to plan further and conduct astrological effects that would aid them in actually accomplishing their mission.

Fas'rial and Celeste cooperated to weave the fate of the Ewer for Harmonious Jade, using the aspect of the Ewer regarding revolutionaries. Fas'rial declared that, whenever Harmonious Jade was in a situation involving the Cult of the Illuminated, she would feel her Compassion grow for the cause and choose to join their revolution against the Immaculate Order. This would last for one season.

Gicer wove a fate for Dace, placing him in the college of the Mask, under it's aspect of religious mystery. He declared that, whenever Dace had a possibility to indulge in the religion of the Cult of the Illuminated, he would feel his Willpower strengthened. This would last for one month.

Finally, Fas'rial asked Kara to place an effect on Hollow, to make the area safer against predators. She declared that, for one month, a group of 100 dangerous predators in Hollow would suffer greater difficulty once a week keeping their balance in a precarious position. The hope was that, invoking the constellation of the Corpse, that a dozen or so dangerous animals would fall off the many cliffs and buildings of Hollow and die swift deaths each week. Like all Sidereal work, it was not a quick fix, but merely a nudge in the right direction.

By this point, one week had passed since their fight with Dace and Harmonious Jade. Even the mission with the Lapas family of Dragon-Blooded had taken about a week and a half, including travel time. They could only hope that the delay would not hamper the completion of their mission.

Mengtzu

05-09-2005, 11:56 PM

Sidereals being sneaky, all is well.

...though I do think it's about time to toss a 2nd Circle Demon at them. Shows them they're Celestials, makes them feel important ^_^

Beri

05-10-2005, 12:47 AM

You're probably right ^_^
I tend to be a somewhat reactive GM. The plot and the epic events are out there, but if the players want to spend a session on some side mission, that works too. It tends to make my games somewhat meandering - a previous Exalted game had a 10-week long side story because they decided to investigate Port Calin further rather than getting on a boat to the Blessed Isle, and a game of 7th Sea ended up being a series of run-ins with a pirate captain while kidnapping governor's daughters. I do have some schemes to pump things up...hmm, and another one just came to me. ::writes in notes:: Ooh, next session is going to be fun.

Moreover, I'm just finding that the atmosphere of the Sidereals is much different from the Solars. Everything from their Charm set to the Celestial Bureaucracy to the Arcane Fate to Paradox to their anima banner emphasizes secrecy and discretion. I need to do a few more sessions either in Yu-Shan, the wilderness, or the Wyld where the Sidereals can really cut loose with full-blown Essence displays. I think it would be really interesting to get these players in a Dragon-Blooded game (well, two of them already have been) where they're the Princes of the Earth, and anima flares are not only okay, but encouraged.

Beri

05-17-2005, 12:12 AM

Session 14: Death, Fate, and Those Beyond Both

The Circle:
Fas'rial, Chosen of Journeys.
Celeste, Chosen of Serenity.
Kara, Chosen of Battles.

Gicer was not in attendance today, having failed a fatigue check due to work.

---
Having completed their Astrology, the Sidereals went down to Creation. Fas'rial took a simple moment to find a predatory animal for Kara, for the purpose of passing along the Descending Effect she had planned. With that done, they left Hollow and went to the streets of Nexus.

While there, Celeste, a Nexus native, noticed that the usually-dour residents seemed excited today. Questioning a woman and her child, she discovered that the residents had witnessed several anima flares, a battle somewhere to the north. Interesting, but was it relevant?

They went to the Bronze Tigers, where they donned Destinies and Celeste again used her Lolita charms to gain entrance to the compound. Fas'rial played the role of her idiot younger brother, and Kara a bodyguard, re-using her Destiny as Thorn.

They questioned a lieutenant about the Cult of the Illuminated (using indirect language) and he revealed that it was a heresy, somewhere to the Northeast, but that the Bronze Tigers didn't know much about it. He also mentioned the battle to the north, but again, no details.

Fas'rial still had a Resplendent Destiny for Harmonious Jade. Gicer had one for Dace, but he had stayed in Yu-Shan, afraid of showing up after his stunt with stealing their flag. (Which flew proudly above their compound again.)

They asked for Dace and Jade, but the lieutenant didn't recognize Jade's name. Dace emerged, though - and within the span of a heartbeat, a blurred crimson streak flashed by him and disappeared. Nobody seemed to notice, not even Dace, but the Sidereals recognized Gicer using the Crimson Robes of the Unseen Scout. He made his contribution after all, and passed on the Destiny.

Dace gave mostly the same information - the Cult was a heresy, he didn't have much to do with it, but he would have his men keep an eye out for it. Celeste was playing up the role of young, innocent girl to the hilt now, and insisted she needed to see someone called 'Harmonious Jade'. Dace almost refused, but paused a moment in thought, and agreed to her request to allow her brother to greet Jade and thank her for 'saving himself and his sister'. Or some such. It was all fabricated, of course.

Up in Dace's chambers, they found Jade looking at various art pieces. As they entered, her hand was immediately on her blade, and she glared at Dace, demanding to know who the new intruders are. A tense exchange followed, as Celeste tried to convince Jade to just let her brother thank her, and her assassin's instincts kept them at arm's length.

Finally, Dace bellowed, "Harmonious Jade, if you plan to stay in this compound, you will accept this boy's thanks, and you will be courteous about it!" Dace's frustration with Jade's paranoia and tension had reached it's boiling point. Grumbling, Jade advanced, and Fas'rial (playing an idiot) bumbled out an apology and shook her hand. The Destiny was passed.

That done, they were eager to leave the Bronze Tigers and begin heading Northeast to find the Cult of the Illuminated. No sooner did they reach the main streets of Nexus than Celeste (still in her Lolita Destiny) was stopped by a creepy old man with a handful of maps. "Maps to the Shrine!" he said. "Go see where all those lights were last night! 100% guaranteed! Gosh, I'd sure envy whoever got to all those treasures first!" It obviously wasn't worth the paper it was printed on, but a single silver coin was more than worthwhile for a clue to their next direction. The Sidereals bought horses and headed north.

After about three hours' journey, the light brushlands they traveled through faded away into a rocky wasteland. Large hills and small mountains dotted the landscape, and in front of them, the ground receded into a canyon, a terrible gash upon the landscape. Their horses would go no further. They dismounted and headed in.

As the ground sloped away, they came upon a pile of rubble. It seemed that an overhanging stone arch had been shattered and fallen, creating a massive pile of treacherous rock. Stranger still, the other side had been coated with a strange sort of waxy oil - and so had the tall, smooth walls of the canyon. With the oil and the rock, it would be nearly impossible to climb out of this canyon. Kara felt her battle instincts rise up in a warning - the canyon was a trap, an ambush point. But were they the target, or had the ambush already been sprung?

All around them were signs of battle - shredded cloth, discarded armor, broken weapons. Burns from anima banners danced along the walls, and arrows were sunk impossibly deep into the stone.

Kara took a moment to activate Prior Warning - and almost immediately got that tingle in the back of her neck that warned of danger. But they had come too far to turn back now.

The manse was decrepit, some pillars broken, and topped with a beautiful bronze dragon. The front door swung open, creaking on it's hinges, coated with a massive bloodstain. The air was cold and lonely, the feeling of a graveyard at night. Celeste recognized it as a weak shadowland. The daytime sun protected them for now, but night would not be long in coming.

Proceeding forward, they entered the manse. The area felt powerless and dead, and the furnishings reflected that - broken art pieces, defaced murals, and empty bookshelves, all covered in dust and gravel. From the main room, two staircases led upwards.

The group took the left staircase, but it curved around, and both staircases met in the same place - the Hearthstone room. Here, there were murals on the walls depicting great Dragon-Blooded battles, but they were defaced. In the center was a lifeless stone, once a Hearthstone, now just a rock.

Fas'rial reached for the stone - and narrowly dodged back as a bolt of green flame shot from the sky. It skipped off the Hearthstone pedestal and shattered through the masonry of the room, breaking open the floor and plunging the Circle thirty feet into the heart of the manse below.

The Sidereals landed on their feet, and the green flame became a spear, plunging itself deeply into the earth. Lifting itself from the ground, it coiled with unholy green flame, coalescing into the shape of a melancholy and tattooed young man, the green spear still in his hands. From above, more trouble followed - a Hopping Puppetteer, crawling down the wall, and still constructing absurd art pieces with the rocks as it went.

The lower level was a sword-grave of sorts, various weapons and other rubble littered about. The walls here wavered with the unstable essence of the broken manse, shimmering with power.

Celeste hefted her staff, Kara her axe, Fas'rial his sandals. They struck again and again at the demons, but for every blow they had a counter, and every opportunity was met with a painful slash by the verdant spear. Principle of Motion was being wielded successfully against them, and the demons managed to space out their offenses and defenses to create an impenetrable bulwark.

Celeste and Fas'rial scored hits on the green-speared boy, taking advantage of a gap where he let Principle of Motion slip. Kara lunged at him, flaring Harmony of Blows to strike twice swiftly with her axe. She only landed a minor blow, but the demon-boy retaliated tenfold, slashing her once with his spear, drawing back, and thrusting straight for her heart.

As he cut her, her vision clouded over - the world being replaced with a vision of the threads of fate, many of them cut and torn. They led somewhere else...but her vision cleared, just in time to see the green flame plunge toward her.

The spear shattered her Starmetal breastplate and tore through her heart. She sailed through the air, flaming with green fire, to slam into the essence-charged walls. Her skin boiled, and her bones vaporized, leaving her merely a pile of ash on the floor.

Furious, Fas'rial lunged forward in a Flying Mantis Kick, scoring another good hit on the demon. He vaulted off the wall, timing his launch between essence pulses, and drove his Starmetal-coated foot into the demon's face, knocking him back into the wall. And then, in an impossible motion, the boy was back on his feet and counterattacking Fas'rial. In a smooth motion, a perfect strike which might have entire textbooks written about it, the spear separated Fas'rial's head from his body.

Strangely, the Hopping Puppeteer took this moment to climb up the walls and escape from the battle, and the boy gave it a glare as it went.

Celeste knew she needed an edge, and took a moment to think upon her knowledge of lore, trying to identify the creature she faced. After a moment, it hit her - Gervesin, the Grieving Lord, the Messenger Soul of Ligier, the Green Sun, and a second-circle demon. Quite a foe, but she advanced undaunted, and with a strike of her Infinite Weapon, sent him back to Malfeas. Rather than attacking the boy, she attacked the spear, pushing it back into the essence whorls on the walls. It burst into green flame and vanished.

As he fell apart, an artifact tumbled from his being. A powerbow, glowing with the gold of Orichalcum. It was not the demon's, certainly, and the manse appeared to have been looted already. Whose bow was this?

There Celeste was, with Fas'rial's corpse and Kara's ashes, along with dozens of broken blades and the inert Hearthstone, softly throbbing with the manse's energy. She pocketed the stone and began to leave, but her compassion gave her pause. A thought crossed her mind, and she tried something new - placing the Hearthstone inside the essence flows themselves. The stone glowed furiously and shattered, blinding Celeste and wounding her with broken stone. But when her eyes cleared, her allies were there, wounded but alive.

Fas'rial and Kara floated in that null-space, the moments between living on in the Underworld or drifting into Lethe. All around them, they saw the world not as it was, but as it was meant to be - the threads of Fate, swirled all around them, a line identifying everything that has ever been done. But many of these lines were cut, torn, and tangled - a shredded chaos of Fate, like a fine tapestry rended by a meat-hook. The torn threads extended up towards the stars...but they did not have enough time to see exactly where.

Their higher soul, animal soul, and Exalted essence began to separate - then slammed back together, called back to life by the very essence of the world itself. They shattered the barrier of life and death like bursting through an iced-over lake, dead heart beating again, dead lungs filling with air. They were burned, wounded, crippled, but alive. Celeste took to treating their wounds.

They were alive, but rather than a step forward, they had taken a step back. How had these demons slipped into the world? What was this manse, and what battle had taken place here? And what was the vision of a shredded Fate they had seen?

Why, oh why, can't things ever be easy?
---

P.S. There's your Second Circle Demon, Kasumi!

Mengtzu

05-17-2005, 12:41 AM

P.S. There's your Second Circle Demon, Kasumi!

Hooray!

Beri

05-17-2005, 12:20 PM

A note to my players: check out Kasumi's signature. His 'Arianna explains' series contains everything you need to know about specialties, combos, and not dying. Coming up soon, hopefully, are stunts are battle tactics. There's lots of Exalted info out there, if you want to look for it!

And here's too much Exalted info. http://exalted.xi.co.nz/wiki/

Beri

05-24-2005, 01:11 AM

Session 15: In the Eyes of Heaven

Having returned from death, the Sidereals began setting themselves about solving another problem - that they were critically injured, 30 feet down a hole filled with streamers of essence. The lack of power in the manse, the dead Hearthstone - the architecture of this manse had been damaged, and rather than focusing the essence into the Heartstone chamber, it flared into the manse's heart. They mused about someday returning to repair the essence flows, but for now, they just wanted out of it.

Fas'rial picked up the shattered pieces of the Hearthstone, wondering how they would react to the essence flows around him. As he attuned his own essence to the stone, it began to float, rising gently and unsteadily upward. He commanded his magical sash to form a rope, and tied it to the stone, still using his own power to force the manse's essence up the walls of the shaft above him, and raising the stone along with it. When the stone reached the top, where the Hearthstone pedestal used to be, it froze in the air, locked in the flows of Essence. Fas'rial wasted no time scampering up it, and aiding Kara in leaving the hole. Celeste opted instead to leap from wall to wall up the shaft, easily performing an impossible mortal feat and landing neatly on her feet at the top. Fas'rial and Kara were happy just to crawl away.

In the Hearthstone chamber, they discovered a new passageway had been created out of the manse...approximately the size of a Hopping Puppeteer. Sighing, they left the manse, passing piles of meticulously arranged rocks and a statue made of broken swords. The broken bridge of rubble which had previously blocked their path now had an attractive staircase leading to an arch. Their horses waited on the other side, and they rode back to Nexus in quiet meditation.

In Yu-Shan, Gicer rested in his wagon, but was roused by a knock at his door. Looking outside, he was met by a sizable force - Ayesha Ura, several other Sidereals, and a half-dozen Celestial Lions. Ayesha Ura declared that she had brought charges against him in the Celestial Court, and that he would be detained until such time as he would stand in front of a censor. For a long moment, he contemplated running - but could he outrun Heaven itself?

The other Sidereals returned to Yu-Shan, wounded and weary, and were met by Gicer's panic monkey, who tried to warn them of the approaching force - but they lacked Gicer's empathic link, and it just seemed to be panic. They likewise could have fled when they saw the approaching Sidereals and Lions, but wisely chose not to. Ayesha Ura declared that they would stand trial, and they were escorted to The Cherished Holding-Grounds of Knowledge and Fear - basically a prison-resort for high-ranking detainees. It was nice, lavish, but still, a prison.

A week passed before their court date. In that time, they had three visitors.
Evening Sonnet commended them for their work, and insisted she would do anything in their defense. She left to perform several minor tasks for them, and to seek out witnesses in their defense.
Resonant Opal, although a member of the Bronze Faction, visit to say that they did satisfactory work, and that he would speak on their behalf, if only because they were more useful in the service of Fate than shackled to a desk job.
Salesh Enoi also came by to offer support and the full records of their service to the Directional Convention of Wood.

Soon it was time. Their artifacts and hearthstones had already been taken, and as they passed through the arches of the compound of justice, they felt their essence drain away, and they each received a gem from the arch containing their stored essence, well-preserved but unavailable to them. Justice would be done without Charms or Sorcery.

The charges proceeded from shortest to longest. Feral Beast of Celestial Grace, or Celeste, faced a Severity 3 offense, Obstructing the Flow of Fate. Ayesha Ura had filed this complaint against the Circle, as she felt that their dawdling and wasting a week in accomplishing their mission, instead of directly going to seek out a Solar, had led to the chosen Solar being killed by the Wyld Hunt and all of Ayesha Ura's destiny planning going to waste. The charge was not so much that they had screwed up their mission, but that they had inconvenienced Ura.

It came down to Manipulation + Bureaucracy rolls. Ayesha Ura triple-botched on 10 dice. Celeste was released with praise, and merely gave a token present to the censor, Rishaka, for his time.

Elentari Rana faced two charges - Avoidance of Heavenly Duty, and Destruction of Heavenly Property. As she was still nowhere to be found, Fas'rial spoke on her behalf. The first charge, regarding her disappearance from heaven, was dropped - Fas'rial skillfully argued that her disappearance would not be without good reason, and that she could not be tried for it without being present to explain it. However, the matter of Destruction of Heavenly Property during the chase with Simlaon was undisputable. As strange as it may seem, Simlaon was in the legal right, acting in self-defense, and the Sidereals were on the offensive. They discovered that bureaucratic justice is not always about what is right, but instead about what one's superiors want to see rewarded or punished. Elentari would face a relatively minor fine once she returned to Heaven - 480 hours in the service of the Loom of Fate. In a Sidereal's 5000-year lifespan, 20 days was merely a slap on the wrist.

Fas'rial, Kara, and Gicer were all tried together, due to their similar charges. All three of them faced charges of Obstructing the Flow of Fate (Ayesha Ura's planning), and Assault on Heavenly Servants (when they fought and killed the sirens guarding Simlaon's manse). Fas'rial and Kara also faced charges of Allowing the Escape of an Enemy of Fate (the Hopping Puppeteer), and Destruction of Heavenly Property (during the canal fight with Simlaon). However, they also benefitted from the merit of Eliminating an Enemy of Fate (Gervesin, the Grieving Lord). Gicer was not present during the battles with Simlaon or the demons.

Witnesses were called back and forth.

First was Ayesha Ura, who reiterated her argument.
She had woven a plan into creation involving a newly Exalted Solar and the Cult of the Illuminated which would have revitalized the East and brought the world into balance, and had submitted a formal request to the Directional Convention of Wood which should have led them to make contact with the Solar with a week to spare. But that week was spent dawdling about Nexus and further interfering with the fate of the Exalted there. They were fated to prevent the canyon ambush which claimed this Solar’s life, but they failed to do so. These Sidereals went against the Fate which was written in the Loom of Fate, and the snarl that created allowed those outside of Fate to leak into the world – Gervesin, the Grieving Lord, and a Hopping Puppeteer which is still at large.

For their first witness, the Circle chose Salesh Enoi, who voiced a positive argument of their quality of work and service to the Convention of Wood, and how important it was that they remain free and unobstructed to perform their duty. Salesh Enoi was a skilled Sidereal in good standing with the Celestial Hierarchy, and his testimony actually went on their record as a Merit - aiding a being of significant standing and Essence.

Next, Ayesha pulled what should have been her prize witness - Lytek, God of Exaltation.

“I can confirm that the Fates of two of the Solar Exalted, by the names of Dace and Harmonious Jade, have been permanently altered without plan by this Circle. Astrology is still in effect on these Exalted, further altering their Fate. I would recommend that this Circle also face the charge of interfering with the Exalted Mandate to Rule Creation.”

However, Rikasha threw out this testimony, declaring that the Sidereals were authorized to use Astrology in their duties, and that Lytek's care for Exalted shards did not mean that any dealings with the Exalted were interference with their mandate to rule Creation. Lytek, although very greatly thanked for gracing the Court with his presence, had no effect on the outcome.

Second witness for the Circcle was Celeste, who basically gave a statement of how they had served their duty to the best of their ability, and how they were all hard workers pursuing the goals that they believed their mission dictated.

Next for Ayesha Ura was Surashi - one of the Sirens that they had fought before!

“Yeah, me and my brothers were tasked with guarding Simlaon’s manse – simple, right? Who’d want to break in there? Well, these guys did, knocked me out and killed two of my partners. I have no idea why they wanted in that manse so bad, but I do know that the next day, Simlaon was gone. These guys are trouble – I say you lock ‘em in a red-hot cage for the next century, see what they think of that!”

It was a crippling blow, but the Sidereals managed to deflate it by pleading guilty, and admitting that they would accept punishment for their impatience and error in dealing with the Sirens. By doing so, they prevented their guilt from this charge from spilling over to the other charges.

Third witness for the Circle was Wuni-Yan, god of the Yellow River. He praised the Sidereals for going above and beyond the call of duty in fixing Fate on the river, noted that he had already filed charges against Simlaon for neglecting his duty, but admitted that it was not pertinent to the charges against the Sidereals. His glowing praise did their case a great deal of good.

Fourth witness for Ayesha Ura, and her final witness, backfired. She called Blue Vranya, the peacock-girl who had worked the desk at the Bureau of Nature.

Ayesha Ura: “Blue Vranya, please give an account of how these Sidereals abused the workings of the Bureau of Nature. How they impersonated another Sidereal, Elentari, to gain access to confidential information!”
Blue Vranya: “Actually, dear, the forms they gave me were all in order, there was nothing wrong with that. The familiar known as Kaloo, then Elentari, then Kaloo was certainly Elentari while he was accessing her paperwork, I have all the stamps to prove that.”
Ayesha Ura: “Can’t you see how they’ve abused you, how they’re criminals?”
Blue Vranya: “Dear, if you have a problem with the system, then you can talk to my bosses, but as far as I’m concerned, they’ve given me no trouble.”

Her testimony had both failed to be the damning evidence Ura had needed, and made Ura look awkward in the eyes of the court. The Circle's final witness was Evening Sonnet, who stood before the court in a glorious display of robes and color. She confirmed that the Sidereals had done her a great service and had done it well, had accepted hardship in the face of duty, and were utterly devoted to the service of Fate.

With the evidence presented, Rishaka retired to his chambers to deliberate. Entertainers emerged, food was presented, and the courtroom became a spectacle as numerous gods vied to please the assembled officals while the censor meditated.

Finally, Rishaka emerged.

Fas'rial faced no guilt. It was clear that his indiscretions were in the service of heaven, and that his crimes were done out of devotion to Fate. His high Essence, and thus high Celestial standing, also helped.

Gicer was met with minor charges, primarily due to his confession about killing the Sirens. He was sentenced to 240 hours on the Loom of Fate.

Most of the guilt fell to Kara Laditaken. A Chosen of Battles, Rishaka declared that she was too eager to use violence as a solution, and had led the Circle into their battle with Simlaon, their battle with the Sirens, and their battle with the demons. She would likewise put in 240 hourson the Loom, and was personally tasked both with salting the shadowland forming in the canyon and driving it back through celebrations of life, and with hunting down and eliminating the escaped Hopping Puppeteer.

Fas'rial, as de facto leader of the Circle, was also presented with a choice regarding their mission. They could abandon it, and face no punishment for doing so, or they would finish it as per the terms of the mission statement, and Ayesha Ura would be required to likewise uphold the terms of the mission, exactly as written. The Circle felt they were close to completing the mission, and chose to continue.

After the Court adjourned, Ayesha Ura was surprisingly friendly and open to the Sidereals. The censor had either cleared them of guilt or punished them for wrongdoing, and that seemed to satisfy her. She promised that now they were on a clean slate with her, and that the Gold Faction would fairly judge them based on their future acitons.

Overall, though, they could have done much worse. Their artifacts and essence were returned to them, and the strode out into the streets of Yu-Shan as free men. If anything, their dealings with the Celestial Bureaucracy had underscored how important their work was and how seriously it was taken in Heaven, and they redoubled their efforts and their will to keep the Loom of Fate flowing smoothly.

Mengtzu

05-24-2005, 05:44 PM

Hey, nifty. I never actually did the courtroom thing, it was interesting to see how it worked.

Beri

06-07-2005, 02:28 AM

Session 16: Dreams of Gold

Present this week:
Kara, Chosen of Battles
Celeste, Chosen of Serenity
Gicer, Chosen of Secrets
and a special guest star joins our roster!

We begin in Yu-Shan, as we often do. Having been saddled with time on the Loom, a sort of celestial community service, Gicer and Kara decided to get started early. It would be up to Elentari to perform her own duty, whenever she reappeared.

They met with One Hound, one of the many Celestial Lions. He explained their situation - although assigned to the Loom, not one of the Sidereals possessed the required training (Both in Craft: Fate and in the College of the Sorcerer) to weave. Instead, they would sit in a little-used back room, watching the thread coming in newly woven from the Maidens and correcting the most minor imperfections in the raw material, before it even went to the Loom for weaving.

Day one, they began hopeful. Gicer performed an elaborate stunt, leaping from wall to wall to create a colorful display of light and thread, but only managed to waste about 20 minutes. Still, it was fascinating to see the many threads go through their fingers, dark blue for fishermen, green farmers, glittering merchants, and so on.

Day two, boredom set in more heavily. Kara and Gicer challenged each other to seek and correct problems the fastest, eventually piling Charm after Charm on top of their efforts, but only managed to lose another two hours or so this way. Gicer's panic monkey grew antsy, so the Sidereals went home to rest before the next day.

Meanwhile, Celeste relaxed and reclined in her manse, having come out of the halls of justice with no required service and no blemish on her record. After so long in Creation, Yu-Shan was the greatest luxury.

Day three, more of the same, seeking threads and adjusting them. Morning, noon, evening. And then, just before it became time to head home again, an amazing thing happened. A dark blue thread in Gicer's hand erupted into a brilliant gold glow, then vanished into the Loom of Fate. A Solar, and from the feel of it, close!

They rushed next door to the Loom itself, making the efforts of their astrology to determine the Solar's location and fate. They determined that the fate of a Solar was destined to have an unfortunate high-speed interaction with the fate of the Nexus docks. With only a few hours to spare, according to the Loom, they rushed off, stopping only to check on Fas'rial (not at home) and to pick up Celeste.

Celeste paid a spirit to open the gateway to Creation for them, and they walked their familiar route into Hollow. As they exited, Kara instinctively ducked under an incoming arrow - except the arrow was not incoming, just stuck in the design of the gateway. Gicer identified it as the same sort of arrow used by Harmonious Jade, except with less glowing and being on fire. A note was twisted around the arrow's shaft.

"Many secrets travel through the streets of Nexus. Be fortunate that we have similar interests in mind, or your secrets would join the noise. I bring you news of the Cult of the Illuminated. It is true that a cell has stationed themselves to the Northeast, hoping to gain a foothold in Nexus. If you wish to aid the Cult, however, you will not go Northeast. Instead, ride southwest, following the Summer Mountains to find Kirighast, then follow the coast to Yane. Seek a village which was once called Ratachul, but is now called Vision of Light. The Cult is strong there, and you will speak to Shen Aru. I don’t know what business or dreams you have with this religion, but I hope for a day when my kind can again walk the lands of Creation freely."

Finally, some direction! The astrology on Jade had paid off. Ah, but first, to meet that Solar at the docks. After Kara gave Gicer's panic monkey a quick elbow as he tried to steal the note from her hands, they set off through Hollow, then up to Nexus.

It was a hot day in Nexus, giving rise to a deeper, more profound stench. The heat caused rolling clouds to boil off the nearby rivers, coating the entire city in fog. They soon reached the docks that the Loom had shown them, where dockhands lazed about and idly repaired the small, rivergoing ships docked here.

In the distance, a ship approached...seemingly in distress, seemingly on fire! As it came out of the fog, it was a marvel - the mast was shattered, but in its place were golden sails, catching the wind in pure essence. It sped towards Nexus, awkwardly catching a rock and turning circles in the water. And on the deck, a man laid unmoving, nearly invisble within the blazing light.

While Kara kept an eye on the crowd, Celeste rushed into the path of the ship, whipping up a forceful wave of water with the suddenly wide blade of her Infinite Weapon. Gicer rushed along the rooftops near the shore, taking an opportunity as the ship ground against the sand to leap onto the deck, grab the man, and leap away.

But the man was not dead, and struggled against Gicer - and in return, Gicer let him fall to the ocean below. The boat continued, the golden sails dissolving away and the hull tipping over as it hit Celeste's wave, to gently rest against the docks.

No time to lose now. With hardly a word of explanation, the man - wisps of essence still trailing from him - was bundled up and hustled down to a little-known entrance to Hollow. The Sidereals immediately began moving Southwest, as per Harmonious Jade's instructions.

Their newly found Solar protested, but was in no condition to argue. Celeste treated his wounds, and he told of how he had Exalted. Pirates had attacked his rivergoing vessel on the way back from Great Forks - river bandits, seeking easy prey. With strange new power, he fought off the attackers...until his own crewmates turned against him. Sadly, he threw his fellows one by one into the river, and through his sheer desperation to be gone from that place, created the sails of light to carry him to Nexus. The man's name was Rising Sun, a fitting name for a new Solar.

Interestingly enough, their astrology had shown that this Solar was, in fact, the reincarnated Essence of the Solar they had failed to reach in time in the canyon to the north of Nexus. Perhaps Lytek wished to see this Essence returned to Creation swiftly.

They left Hollow and Nexus, and procured passage on a small riverboat. That took them to Lookshy, where they boarded a coastal vessel bound for Yane.

Long travel is always difficult to portray, when one hour out of game is one month in game. But we went over some highlights. A few:

Rising Sun raising the main sail - solo.

Celeste donning her 'Lolita' Destiny out of sheer boredom, and dancing for the crew, pulling dozens away from their posts.

A brief passing with a warship of House Nellens, who fired her cannons in salute.

Kara and Rising Sun sharing stories of their childhoods.

Kara, Rising Sun, and several crewmen getting into a drinking contest below decks. To his merit, Rising Sun lasted longer than anyone yet has against Kara...but soon he was lying, dazed, on the table.

And Gicer teaching Rising Sun to meditate and think back on his past lives. Their first effort was only moderately successful, but the second triggered something deeper...a memory of riding in a ship, but not some little merchant vessel. A grand palace of the sea, fitting a Solar king. To his right hand knelt his submissive Lunar wife. To his left hand stood his wise Sidereal savant. Arrayed before him were his Dragon-Blooded troops, in extravagant finery.

Then the vision blurred...and all that was left was a feeling of betrayal...anguish...treachery...rage. Sheer rage at those who had manipulated him, the liars, the traitors!

The details fell into a haze as Rising Sun emerged from his meditation with a shout, again billowing essence as his caste mark shone brightly. He murmured the details of his vision, briefly mentioning 'a Lunar' and 'a Sidereal' without thought. When Kara asked, he revealed that he didn't really know or understand the words he had said, just that they came to him.

Time passed on the sea, slowly, until they were able to see Yane. The ship docked and began offloading it's cargo, the dockworkers of the Varang city-states uniformly dressed in a way that fitted the occupation that their astrology had chosen them for.

They proceeded into the city, keeping a close watch on Rising Sun. Still wearing her Destiny as Lolita, Celeste bounced into a nearby pub and questioned the barkeep about Ratachul. He gave directions - about four hours, by horse - and warned Lolita that if she was looking for the Cult of the Illuminated, they weren't worth her time. She thanked him and skipped out.

The session ended with the group about a half-hour from Vision of Light, very close to achieving their goal. But once that goal was achieved, what would be next? After all, Rising Sun was basically god to them, the deity that the Cult had waited for and anticipated. Could the Solar deal with that kind of power? Could the Cult deal with that kind of pressure? And how would the Sidereals twist the whole situation to their advantage?

Mutant KaGe

06-07-2005, 10:12 AM

How dare you not mention Kara's wonderful ability to DRINK EVERYONE UNDER THE TABLE for a SECOND TIME! Muahahahah! I love it. :p

Beri

06-07-2005, 10:17 AM

Ah, yes...I think I even made mention of it in my notes. Back to editing!

djbn

06-08-2005, 08:05 AM

Beri

06-08-2005, 09:45 AM

I've been reading all of the Exalted threads and most of the time I can't figure out what the heck people are talking about. After reading this thread, you've made me want to go out and buy at least the core book. I don't know if I should thank you but White Wolf definitely should.

Well, thank you! This game actually features the most complicated of the Exalted - the Sidereals have a lot of nuances, both in their ability to use Astrology and their interactions with the Celestial Bureaucracy of spirits that the Solar Exalted in the corebook don't have to worry about. But you can do pretty much anything you want with just the corebook. I still turn back to the corebook often for setting information, rules, and NPCs to throw at the players.

Mengtzu

06-08-2005, 04:10 PM

Incidentally, did you know your game has now run four more sessions than my Sidereal game?

You're well on your way to earning an endurance GM title ^_^

Beri

06-08-2005, 04:18 PM

Incidentally, did you know your game has now run four more sessions than my Sidereal game?

You're well on your way to earning an endurance GM title ^_^

Ha! Good to know ^_^

For some reason, that's how things go for me. Fairly slow as far as plot development, but lots of detail and complications with each place the PCs go. I can do one-shots, I can do fifty-session epics, but I can't do a quick 5 or 10-session game.

Beri

06-14-2005, 09:10 PM

Session 17: The Dawn of a New Age

We last saw our heroes, and their new pet Solar, only a short distance away from Vision of Light, itself a short distance away from Yane, in the Southeast.

Eager to reach their final destination, Celeste reached into her pack and withdrew an item she had been carrying for some time – the Orichalcum Powerbow that the demon in the canyon had dropped. “So do you think I can sell this up here?” she asked. “I don’t really like it.” Instinctively, Rising Sun reached out for it, and seeing the look in his eyes, Celeste allowed him to have it. His old, crude bow, the bowstring a mass of knots where it had frequently broken and been retied, was quickly abandoned in favor of the shimmering golden weapon he now held – a weapon he instinctively knew was his.

As they made their final approach to Vision of Light, Rising Sun saw a Guild messenger, standing atop a hill, watching them. The Sidereals just saw their ally Fas’rial, wrapped in a Resplendent Destiny.

After not hearing from his fellow in a week or so, Fas’rial had gone down to Nexus to investigate, and had found the same note that had led the other Sidereals to Yane, and then Vision of Light. Thinking he was far behind, Fas’rial turned around and went back to Yu-Shan, then exited through a gate near Yane, and rushed to Vision of Light. After all, he had not expected that they would pick up a Solar along the way. And there he waited for several weeks, as the other Sidereals made a long and tedious journey by boat.

Fas’rial made a greeting to them – not through his usual writing, but as a whisper that carried through the air to where they stood. Something had changed about Fas’rial, something more than just the Destiny he wore. Any further inquiry was cut off by a ringing prayer bell from Vision of Light.

Vision of Light was a fairly standard Threshold town; run down but serviceable, with perhaps two dozen homes arranged in neat rows. The shrine that had been set up in the center of town was the only truly well-made structure, and a hollow-sounding prayer bell rung out across the fifty villagers who bowed and prayed, while a man stood behind the pulpit and began to speak.

Shen Aru spoke about the vision he had been granted one drug-addled day long ago in the South, when the gods had been kind to a poor man with nothing to lose, and told him of the Shining Ones who would come to them. You would know them by their light, he said, by the radiance of both their bodies and spirits. They waited to serve the Shining Ones, happy to be mere pawns in whatever world-changing scheme would sweep them up. They simply waited for a Shining One to come to them.

Five beings who could quite well shine came down from the hillside, but kept their light to themselves as they joined the congregation. Fas’rial, Kara, and Celeste mingled around, staying observant as they watched over Rising Sun, while Gicer took advantage of the meditative atmosphere to guide Rising Sun through another session to try to recover the memories of his past lives.

This time, Rising Sun slipped into the mind of a more recent incarnation - dashing through the streets of Nexus, he was Unbreakable Sky, and the Wyld Hunt was sharp on his heels. He managed to slip into the Yellow River, and let the current sweep him downstream until he headed North again, to a canyon where the rumors said he would find refuge. Upon arrival, however, he found that it was a trap – the walls made slick with clinging oil, and the entrance to the canyon collapsed. Unbreakable Sky fended off arrows for nearly three hours while dueling the Dragon-Blooded, but he was soon just a messy stain on the walls of the powerless manse.

Then he saw himself, not as a rogue but as a noble general, hoisting his orichalcum powerbow overhead as he let out a cheer – and 200,000 troops answered.

Then he was Rising Sun again, filled with a deep, profound sense of disappointment at who he was, what his essence had become. A grand general, reduced to running scared and hiding in filthy water to survive.

Shen Aru was there, then – fortunately, Rising Sun had not burst into anima flame as he did last time. He spoke briefly to Rising Sun and Gicer, welcoming them to Vision of Light, opening the Cult’s doors to them and promising service and friendship. As a charismatic fellow with a deep-set belief, it wasn’t hard to see how he had created this little heresy. He also mentioned that yes, a group of his people had gone Northeast in the hopes of bringing the Cult to Nexus.

Fas’rial also pulled Shen Aru aside, and gave him warnings in that strange whisper of his. He gave warnings of the Immaculate Order, and of the folly of worshipping Anathema, but Shen Aru disregarded his concerns. Although the Immaculate Order spread itself wide, it did not control the Threshold, and there was room enough for a bastion of true belief to rise and spread. Fas’rial left, unsure whether this Cult could even keep itself alive long enough to be useful.

The Sidereals and their secret Solar gathered outside of Vision of Light to confer. The Cult had belief, it was true, and they were eager to serve the Shining Ones. However, they had no training, no army, and no real plan for standing up to the Immaculate Order. If they were to be useful, they would need training and focus, and none of the Sidereals were willing to spend the years necessary to give that to them. Would it be prudent to leave Rising Sun with the Cult? Should they even reveal him as one of the Shining Ones, or simply leave the Cult behind as a failed effort?

Night fell soon, and a decision was made – Rising Sun would shine, and they would gauge the peoples’ reaction. Fas’rial bade him unleash his inner light…and Rising Sun simply shrugged and asked “How?” But the Sidereals knew one thing – any problem can be solved with martial arts. Fas’rial let fly a lightning-quick kick, and instinctively, Rising Sun met the attack and batted it aside. The faint symbol of the Dawn was on his head…but not good enough. More attacks came, the Solar growing brighter with each swing. Finally, angered at his ally’s aggression, Rising Sun knocked an arrow and poured the power of the Wise Arrow into it, sighting down the shaft at Fas’rial and waiting for him to make a move. Seeing as how the situation had gone on long enough, Celeste leapt between them and rapped each one upside the head with her Infinite staff. Rising Sun lost his grip, and the arrow left the bow, narrowly missing Fas’rial, reducing one tree to a cloud of sawdust, severing a second cleanly, and planting itself eighteen inches into a third.

The Solar now glowed with a profound inner light, a bonfire visible for miles in the open land of the Southeast. Instantly they saw movement down at Vision of Light. The Sidereals retreated – close enough to aid Rising Sun, but far enough that he would be allowed to shine on his own.

One by one, the Cult of the Illuminated came to Rising Sun and fell to the ground in worship. Some wept tears of joy to see their beliefs finally come to fruition. Faith is a fine thing, but here was their object of worship, their god, standing five feet away. Shen Aru was the last one to come, only humbling himself and approaching after he had ensured that the rest of his flock was present. He knelt, forehead to the earth.

Rising Sun was dumbstruck by the display, and stammered out a command for his people to rise. Naturally, they wouldn’t dare. A man cried out to his glory, and called for honor to be brought back to the world. Shen Aru pledged his people as his eternal servants. And in the center of it all, Rising Sun took a deep breath and tried to get used to suddenly being a god.

More comfortable on the deck of a ship, Rising Sun used that metaphor to compliment them, telling them they were ‘a good crew’ and that the Cult seemed ‘shipshape, three sheets to the wind.’ The Sidereals subtly urged him to wrap it up, and he bid his people farewell with a promise that he would someday return. They promised to wait for him, no matter how long it took.

That being done, the Sidereals pulled Rising Sun along with them. Their mission was complete, and it was time to contemplate their next move – and as always, they did so from Yu-Shan.

Fas’rial took them back to the gate he had come from, in the middle of a ruined temple, long since overgrown with age. He tore a golden strip from his clothing, and gave it to Rising Sun. “You must wear this,” he said, “a symbol of faith and humility. To be a god, you must wear the blindfold of the gods.” Rising Sun reluctantly agreed.

There was a sound then, a popping and shuddering feeling of energy. Rising Sun felt someone pull him forward, and suddenly the air went stale, losing the earthy feeling of the grasslands. “Ah, you’re here on business,” he heard. “And your guest…interesting.”

The sound of a door opening, and then the cacophony of bustle, shouted voices in a language Rising Sun didn’t understand. People all around him. The sound of wind chimes sped by his ear. A serpentine hiss seemed to form words, although he couldn’t make sense of them. About then, Fas’rial whispered something about needing “The silence of the gods” and tied fabric over his ears as well.

Helpless but somehow content to be so, Rising Sun felt himself carried, then dropped in something he instantly recognized by feel to be a boat. Wind whipped through his hair, and they walked more. Rising Sun heard Celeste shouting, but again, in a forgotten language.

Celeste was shouting because there was a food shop where her manse should have been. The proprietor, a nice womanly spirit, explained that Salesh Enoi had come by with a team of earth elementals, and that the manse had switched places with her shop overnight. Very nice, she said – the tall manse would give a gorgeous view. With the new address in hand, Celeste stormed off.

There was more shouting, then back on the boat, more travel, more shouting, and finally Rising Sun’s blindfold was removed. He found himself in a room, well-made and beautifully stocked, but with no windows and no clue as to where he really was. Servants brought tea and made idle chatter.

A servant had met them earlier, saying that an old friend wished to see them, and they sent word now to whoever the message was from. Soon afterwards, the door chime rang, and as a servant led their guest in, they felt the familiar heavy humidity and weightlessness that came with an audience with Wuni-Yan, god of the Yellow River.

A being made of sea foam clad in a robe of moss, Rising Sun was unsurprisingly terrified by the apparition. Wuni-Yan paid him no heed, and spoke to the Sidereals in Rivertongue. Falcon Emerald was doing well, he said, and her prayers to him had granted him a trivial amount of Ambrosia. He offered this to the Sidereals, saying that she was really praying to them – to the nameless allies who helped her cope with her husband’s death and again find love. He recognized that it was a minor gift, but explained to them that they should take joy that their job not only accomplished their task, but enriched the lives of those around them.

Really, it was a social visit. Wuni-Yan had become a good friend, and was interested in the safety and well-being of the Sidereals. He noticed the stranger in his midst for the first time, and gazed deeply at Rising Sun. Suddenly his figure dissolved in a splash of water, and a more human shape emerged – not nearly as terrifying, merely a bald human with a bluish tinge to the skin.

“I remember your feeling. Your shipmates are safe; they found passage to Great Forks and are more than willing to forget their ordeal ever happened. You were quite rough on one of the young ones, though, I doubt he’ll walk again.” After passing along this knowledge of his domain, Wuni-Yan bid the Sidereals goodbye.

They sent word to another guest, who arrived shortly. Ayesha Ura, occasionally ally and occasional obstacle, who had sent them after the Cult in the first place. She was beyond herself with joy to see a Solar sitting among the Sidereals, and asked them how they had found Vision of Light. It seemed that her auguries and instincts had led her to search the east, and she had completely overlooked the South where the Cult of the Illuminated was actually strong.

Immediately, Ayesha was in a flurry of planning, creating plans for weaving the Cult into a grand army of change. The Sidereals were a little taken aback, but mostly happy to hand control of the Cult over to Ayesha and wash their hands clean of the whole issue.

Rising Sun took some convincing, but unlike the other Sidereals, Ayesha Ura was not hesitant to use her Charms. She began with Impose Nature, granting him the Visionary nature in addition to his own.

(Note to my players: I misread the Charm. Rising Sun didn’t get the Follower Nature, he got Ayesha’s Nature – Visionary. Should have about the same effect, though.)

She made an off-handed comment on how she would enjoy ‘her new pet,’ and when Rising Sun yelped “What?” she simply turned to him and said, “Yes, you’re my plaything, and I will take pleasure in guiding your destiny for as long as you’re useful.” However, the words were tinged with the Avoiding the Truth Technique, and Rising Sun decided that Ayesha Ura was lying, simply being sarcastic about his obviously commanding role in things to come.

Finally, Ura parted ways – taking a moment to whisper Rising Sun’s name with the Favorable Inflection Procedure, giving him a rush of good feelings and positive energy. Within a ten-minute visit, Ayesha had the Solar in her palm. Of course, the trick with demigods is not getting them in your palm, but keeping them there.

Satisfied in their completion of the mission, Ura took the Sidereals back to her dojo, to train them in Martial Arts as she had promised. Every Sidereal received one free Martial Arts Charm. Rising Sun came as well – blindfolded of course – and Ura gave him special training as well. He was disinterested in Martial Arts, but after he mentioned to Ura the drinking contest against Kara, she resolved to force him to learn a Solar Resistance Charm – by getting him drunk, beating him senseless, getting him drunk, beating him, and continuing until the Solar decided it would be easier just not to get drunk. This Rising Sun picked up Alcohol-Resisting Prana.

Their work done for now, the Sidereals rested in Yu-Shan. They still had several missions on their plate, but choosing which one to attack next would be a choice to be made tomorrow. Their spirits were high, and with the positive reaction the Cult of the Illuminated had given them, they were truly making a difference in the world. Things were looking up.

And looking through this, I realize I hardly mentioned Kara at all, but she was there – mostly hanging back, watching over Rising Sun, and making sure he didn’t do anything stupid. With the Sidereals, those who show restraint and discretion are often the most influential of all.

Beri

06-21-2005, 11:04 AM

Session 18: The Dimming of the Stars

Fas’rial, Journeys
Celeste, Serenity
Kara, Battles
Gicer, Secrets
Rising Sun, Dawn Caste

Having just completed their third official mission, the one marked ‘A New Dawn,’ the Sidereals took time to relax and tie up loose ends while in Yu-Shan. This time, they had an extra complication in Rising Sun, and debated for some time about what to do with him. For the time being, they kept him on a very short leash; either stuck in a room of Celeste’s manor, or stuck in an antechamber near the Loom of Fate.

Kara and Gicer went back to the Loom of Fate to finish up their community service, 240 hours working the threads of Destiny.

Celeste, with Rising Sun nearby, did some research in her own library of demonology about the desires and weaknesses of the Hopping Puppeteer. Unlike Gervesin, there were no glaring secrets about the Puppeteer – the best way to defeat one was just to hit it a lot with something sharp and heavy, and avoid being clinched in return.

Celeste also learned that the Puppeteers are irrationally fond of children. Thus began her quest, looking in the right places to obtain three lovely porcelain baby dolls, and three firedust grenades. I imagine you can see where this is going.

Fas’rial tried to locate the demon on the Loom of Fate. Second Circle Demons and such are outside of Fate, but a First Circle Demon like the Puppeteer showed up as a hazy, vague hole in Fate. It was heading towards Sijan – perhaps it sensed the corpses there, useful as raw construction material.

Fas’rial then sought out a Sidereal savant who knew how to summon a Demon of the First Circle, and found one – Alesa Lion-Eyes. In exchange for an undefined future favor, Alesa began researching a modified version of Demon of the First Circle – one which would summon a specific First Circle Demon, not just any Puppeteer, and one that would summon from Creation, rather than Malfeas. A tricky subject, but not exceptionally dangerous, so she took her time.

Fas’rial and Alesa went down to Creation early, spending a few days and nights in the canyon where they had fought the demon, preparing an altar and dancing to hold back the Shadowland.

The other Sidereals (and Solar) gathered at Gate 17 to Nexus, and with Alesa Lion-Eyes, traveled down to Creation. They made their way to the canyon, and waited until nightfall, when Alesa began her summoning. With arcane lights and floating sigils, the essence of the world coalesced into the form of the Hopping Puppeteer.

First, Alesa tasked it to repair the manse, making it as if it were newly built. The Puppeteer obliged, rapidly becoming a flurry of limbs and construction materials, flinging bricks and pillars every which way, only to catch them and set them properly in place. When the last pillar was slipped into an auspicious position, the manse lit up – the dragon above spurted fire, and the front of the manse bubbled up in liquid mountains of stone. Fas’rial slipped inside, and found the Hearthstone room shining brightly, with a new Hearthstone formed on the pedestal. He dared not touch it, though, after what had happened to him last time.

That done, the Puppeteer cleaned up the canyon, removing the oils from the rock, then it simply stopped and waited, as per its commands. It seemed harmless – almost cute – but the sentence from Yu-Shan had been for Kara to destroy the Puppeteer, and that was what she planned to do.

Celeste had created a toy for the Puppeteer, something to take advantage of the Puppeteer's natural desire to build. It was a sphere, which, with a few pokes, broke down into thousands, if not millions, of individual pieces. It would take a mortal a month, if not more, to assemble. But when the last piece was placed and the structure complete, it became unstable, and shattered itself completely. They placed this before the Puppeteer, and its limbs became a mad frenzy of assemblage and fragments of this sphere. It left the Puppeteer preoccupied and defenseless.

Celeste began the attack, by throwing a baby doll. The Puppeteer caught it and cradled it gently with five or six limbs, which were blown off when the firedust grenade inside ignited. Off-balance, it wobbled, confused.

Fas’rial leapt up and gripped the mass of legs, giving a squeeze and a twist, enhanced with his Joint-Breaking Attack. The Puppeteer now had a -7 wound penalty, and flopped around on useless limbs.

Kara laid down a savage axe blow, reducing the Puppeteer to just a round, glistening head-orb. Celeste lobbed another baby bomb, which the Puppeteer rolled over and made a short cooing noise before exploding.

All in all, they came a little overstaffed; five Sidereals and a Solar to take one demon. They should consider themselves lucky they did not live during the downfall of the First Age, when the power-mad Twilights marched armies of five-hundred demons in a swath of bloody justice across Creation.

Speaking of history, Rising Sun received another clue to his own, as he looked at the bloody stain on the manse doors before they were cleaned up. The final two days of the life of his previous incarnation, Unbreakable Sky, rushed back to him, and he remembered vividly the swing that took his arm and created that bloodstain, the agony of death, and the faces of the five Wyld Hunt assassins who did him in.

Their work being done (perhaps with too much caution, but that’s a merit, not a fault) they returned to Yu-Shan. Again Rising Sun was blindfolded, led to their manses, then released. They still had no clear plan on what to do with him, but they had a revolutionary idea – they wanted to get Rising Sun recognized as a member of the Directional Convention of Wood, so that he could aid them on their missions. In particular, they wanted to ensure that he would gain in the rewards that were given to the Sidereals after each successful mission.

Fas’rial filled out the proper paperwork, and they waited. And waited. Realizing that their efforts were either lost or ignored, they asked Ayesha Ura to dinner, hoping that she could give advice into the inner workings of Heaven.

“You’re asking for something that’s never been done before,” she replied to the plan, “and personally, that I think shouldn’t be done. The Bureau of Destiny has a specific duty, and the Sidereals have specific powers and training to allow them to fulfill that duty. I recognize – more than anyone – that the Solars have a place in Yu-Shan, and they deserve to be given another chance after the First Age. If you want me to get him a post in the Celestial Bureaucracy, I can do that. Some minor task he can learn to perform. But you want to make an unskilled Solar who you met merely two months ago into an agent of the Bureau of Destiny? Every Sidereal lives for fifteen or twenty years before they Exalt, bonded to Fate. Then there is the year of training, then more training, and experience to learn the Celestial Hierarchy. And that’s not even factoring in the past lives that your Essence has seen.”

“Furthermore, there’s the problem of the Bronze Faction. There are more of them, they’re older, and they’re better at playing the political game. And right now, there’s no way I can appoint someone as a new agent of Destiny without at least five Bronze Faction Sidereals needing to give approval, and that’s not going to happen. If this is something you really want to do, then you need to show patience in making it happen. Come back to me in a century or so, and then we’ll see if the waters have changed.”

A harsh lesson, but truthful; there are ways things are done in a bureaucracy, especially one as large as Yu-Shan, and just because you really want something to happen doesn’t mean it will.

Stymied for the moment on that point, they turned their attentions toward the two missions they had.

One, Witness to Evil, required stealth and promised a confrontation with the Abyssals. The other, Blood and Salt, would be more dangerous, promised massive battles, and a clash against the Lintha Family.

The group was evenly split between the two missions, so it came down to a die roll – and they decided to head towards Thorns, and the mission of Witness to Evil. Before they left, Gicer decided to check in with Salesh Enoi, to see what his opinion on the two missions would be.

He recommended they pursue Witness to Evil, partially because he owed a favor to a goddess of erosion, named Stones to Sand. Near Thorns, there are always new, small Shadowlands emerging, whenever a hunting party or such gets torn apart by a horde of zombies. One of these Shadowlands threatened the domain of Stones to Sand, that being the gulleys and washes near Thorns, and she had asked Enoi to quietly come down and take care of things. Salesh Enoi invited the other Sidereals to come with him, as a way to have a little recreation battling easy foes and to do some reconnaissance on Thorns before they attacked the mission proper.

With all that in mind, they traveled to the closest gate to Thorns, which was still quite some distance away. Aided by Fas’rial’s aura, they advanced for a week, moving through forests and brush, finding paths and losing them again, and a few times coming to a cliff with a breathtaking view of the Marukan equine herds thundering across the flatlands.

In time, however, the joyous life of the East grew quiet and dark, and the sun fell low in the sky as they approached Thorns. “Hurry,” said Enoi, “We don’t want them to be at their full strength.”

Enoi knew the way, and they advanced into a deep wash, deep enough so that their heads were below the earth, and thus their anima could shine without attracting attention. They formed a circle, backs to each other, and waited for the sun to disappear.

The sounds of animals – birds, crickets, and such – ceased, and the moon became unusually bright and looming. A brief, worrying thought about mortality rushed through the thoughts of the Sidereals…then, the first hungry ghost attacked.

Through use of martial arts, Harmony of Blows, and Trance of Unhesitating Speed, they fought their way through six combat rounds. First one, then two, three, four, five, six ghosts manifested at once, but each time, they cleaved their way through the horde with no trouble at all and hardly a scratch.

Spirits were high, and the Sidereals were laughing and joking, showing off as they battled, clamoring with each other to see who would unleash Harmony of Blows and massacre the zombies first. Celeste did several in with her Infinite Weapon, shifting shape to make each strike more lethal than the last.

At the end of the sixth round, the Sidereals stood alone, in the center of the wash, surrounded only by wisps of plasm as the ghosts evaporated. Enoi wove thread between his hands, rapidly building up a net of Destiny…and without a word or a shout, flung it on Kara and began to run for the end of the canyon. (Of Horrors Yet Unknown)

The seventh round started. Keeping with the previous pattern, seven hungry ghosts appeared. Four more combatants also joined the fray.

The first, a sickly looking martial artist, landed in a strange stance, immediately erupting into a purple aura as the air around her turned sickly with wisps of green.

The second, an armored sorceress with strange sigils coating her body and a rotating sword of flame dancing around her, burst into blue, and struck at Kara, throwing a pair of hatchets which failed to penetrate her armor.

The next, a heavily armored archer, unleashed a trio of arrows at Kara while still in the air. Two skittered off her armor, but one struck home, doing a light wound to Kara – at least until she activated Shield of Mars and transferred the damaged back to him.

But the damage was inconsequential. The important thing was that Kara had used a Charm…for at that moment, the final combatant darkened the sky as he leapt into the gully with a hideous moan. A warstrider, over 20 feet tall and comprised of iron, soulsteel, and hideous screaming skulls molded into the armorwork, brought his blade down upon Kara to the tune of 30+ bashing damage. Yes, bashing – for some reason this monstrosity pulled his blow, but it was still enough to send Kara sailing into unconsciousness.

And this was before the Sidereals even had a chance to react, thanks to Secrets of Future Strife.

Gicer raced towards the warstrider, calling upon Harmony of Blows to strike at it once, twice, three times. The pilot nimbly parried his blows as Gicer leapt up his frame, and then punished the Sidereal for using his Charm so early. With no defense, Gicer was the second to fall – likewise unconscious, not death. (Both parries and attack were effects of Perfection of the Visionary Warrior.)

Celeste nocked a trio of arrows, and fired upon the fleeing Salesh Enoi. The other Sidereals still held out hope that this was merely some training exercise, but the Feral Beast of Celestial Grace smelled the taint of betrayal. Two arrows failed to hit their mark, as Enoi danced out of the way with Defense of Shining Joy, but one did manage to graze him. This arrowhead was laced with the Crystalline Honey, the hallucinogen they had picked up back on the Blessed Isle. Enoi stumbled, but was not defeated so easily. Again he wove the net of Destiny, and cast it upon Fas’rial – who used Duck Fate to avoid its effects. But rather than frustration, Enoi smiled – any attack that forces a Sidereal to lose 10 motes in defense is a good one.

Celeste took a moment to focus and concentrate, trying to determine exactly what was happening in this combat. Her assailants had Sidereal auras, and used Sidereal Charms, yet, with the exception of Enoi, were dressed in the hideous trappings of death, with skulls and skin making a mockery of life. They seemed like Abyssals who had learned Sidereal Charms – or Sidereals who had turned to the Underworld.

With that in mind, a terrifying possibility formed itself. They had found the previous Directional Convention of Wood.

Rising Sun leapt to a higher vantage point, again using Trace of Unhesitating Speed to attack the archer and kill two more hungry ghosts. The ghosts fell, but the archer was unharmed, and when Rising Sun landed, they were upon him – attacking and beating at his unarmored body until he fell into unconsciousness.

Fas’rial, seeing a losing situation, called upon an effect of the Resplendent Destiny he had prepared. The Messenger has an effect – Field Mouse Rider - where a familiar can be made to carry the Sidereal – no matter how unsuitable the familiar is. Fas’rial leapt on Kaloo, and took flight.

The next combat round began. Their opponents turned their attention to Celeste, the last one standing, and unceremoniously pummeled her into submission. Her defenses were valiant, but she was overpowered four against one, and was taken.

Fas’rial sped on, escaping the battle – but this is why they brought an archer. He drew back and fired, nearly at his bow’s maximum range, but flaring with power as he poured essence into his Combo. The arrow soared forward then split into four, striking Fas’rial from every angle, and wounding Kaloo as well.

Still they fled the fight, nearly a half-mile away - until the sorceress unleashed the spell she had been preparing, Sting of the Ice Hornet. The inhuman, buzzing shards of razor sharp ice covered the distance between her and Fas'rial in a matter of instants, scything through his final health level and sending him plummeting to the earth below. He hit the ground with a thump, wounded but not dead.

Fas’rial was dragged back to the group, and the bodies were laid in a pile. Manacles were clamped onto their wrists and ankles – a metal cold enough to chill them to the bone. Soulsteel. They were clamped together, each facing outward to form a rough cylinder, and their attackers formed a circle around them, waiting for the moon to disappear and for the darkest night truly to be upon them. Enoi gave a nod, and the massive warstrider grasped the center of the chains, effortlessly hefting the group as they proceeded out of the ditch.

“The Solar is unexpected. What do we do with him?” asked the warstrider.

Salesh Enoi replied, “He’s not the one we want, and he’ll be too strong-willed to turn. Yu-Shan’s already got their claws in him. We need to focus on these four. Leave him here; the ghosts will dispose of him, or the Wyld Hunt will in time.”

Rising Sun was left where they fought, still spackled with blood and crumbled rock, clamped in his soulsteel restraints and unable to move or battle. His orichalcum bow was taken.

As they exited the wash, they realized that things had changed. This was not the world of the living. Skeletal beasts and strange, crying veiled women crossed their path, and all around them was the sound of sobbing and wailing. They were in a place where they had hoped not to end up for millennia – the Underworld, where those souls who cannot accept death linger on in a hideous half-existence.

They were met by five dozen soldiers, each group of twelve carrying a different battle standard. All were different, but all were hideous constructions of stretched skin, ligaments and bone. These troops fell into formation with their assailants, and they marched onward.

The sorceress of the group began chanting and screeching, and tore open a hole in the world itself – a gaping wound leading into a hole of not just darkness, but emptiness. The troops marched forward, and the Sidereals were dragged in with their assailants.

This was the labyrinth. They marched through hallways, rooms, and sights they hoped to never see again – hallways of bloody swords, whispering chasms of total darkness, rooms of dancing lights held by human arms – each room was random, yet utterly wrong. Fortunately, this ordeal only lasted an hour, perhaps two, and they emerged through a great black gate into a stone chamber.

They had no idea where they were, but at this point, they were separated – still bound, each of the Sidereals being taken away with twelve soldiers and one of your terrible assailants. Salesh Enoi took Gicer, the archer took Fas’rial, the warstrider took Kara, and the sorceress took Celeste. One unit of troops stayed behind.

They were stripped of their artifacts and any objects of power, left with only the most minimal clothing to cover themselves and shield them from the unyielding cold.

Individually, they were each taken to a dark cage of soulsteel and other unidentifiable elements, thrumming with power. A prison, personally made for each of the servants of Yu-Shan. Each Sidereal was locked inside, and only a handful of guards remained, as the door closed and the room plunged into perfect darkness.

-- Session End --

SJE

06-21-2005, 02:47 PM

Yowza, thats a cliffhanger if ever I saw one!

Now I see why your game might be called the Dimming of the Stars...

How do your players feel about this development BTW?

Thx.

SJE

Beri

06-21-2005, 03:21 PM

Yowza, thats a cliffhanger if ever I saw one!

Now I see why your game might be called the Dimming of the Stars...

How do your players feel about this development BTW?

Thx.

SJE

Overall, they're cool with it. Our school year ended a few weeks ago, and this is actually our last session before I fly out to see my family in another state for two months, so it seemed appropriate to close the year with a big event.

I've screwed them over before, somewhat - when I have a battle, it's usually for a purpose for the plot, so I usually have an idea of whether I want the players to win or lose in the end. So they've been in a few unfair fights before, and they understand that I'm usually going somewhere with it.

I think Fas'rial was a little disappointed that he didn't manage to escape on Kaloo, but for future plots, having one Sidereal roaming the world would have been a complication. He got close, though.

I did learn that extras are really fun to play with - they took out 21 hungry ghosts in six rounds, after all. I ought to do more of that.

For the next eight weeks, we're going to be doing a series of 2-session games for different Exalt types - introducing the players to other Exalted, and giving them a taste of what's going on around the world while they're running around the East or captured in the Underworld.

First, the Alchemicals, with the PCs being several newly-minted Exalted on the front lines of Yugash's foray into Creation.

Second, the Dragon-Blooded, with the PCs being young members of House Mnemon, as the Realm descends towards civil war.

Third, the Lunars, with the PCs being newly recruited by Ma-Ha-Suchi, battering down the gates of the Hundred Kingdoms, one by one.

Fourth, if we get to it, the Fair Folk, with the PCs being newly formed warriors seeking to expand the Wyld and plunge the West into chaos.

I'll post session logs/summaries afterwards, but if you're interested in observing, we're going to be playing on AIM at the same time as usual - Mondays, 7:00-10:00pm, PST. PM me or check my profile for my screen name!

Cirv

06-21-2005, 05:55 PM

Woo. I finally got around to reading this actual play from start to finish. It took some time, but well worth it! Fantastic game Beri. I've never been too jazzed on the idea of Sidereals as the player characters, but this was awesome stuff.

Lots of inspiration for any Exalted game in there anyhow. I expect I'll steal from you liberally, given half a chance.

Mengtzu

06-21-2005, 08:56 PM

Very cool, as usual.

Sounds like they got a FIERCE lesson in how combat works, though, ouch.

Beri

06-21-2005, 09:57 PM

Very cool, as usual.

Sounds like they got a FIERCE lesson in how combat works, though, ouch.

I did do some mean tricks, like spam-attacking Kara until she used a defensive Charm, then hitting her with a Combo that the Charm couldn't handle, and saving the warstrider's reflexive attack until someone was defenseless. (I've learned that reflexive attacks are really powerful. Principle of Motion is rightfully scary.) For Sidereals with Duck Fate, it works to throw something at them that's powerful, but not directly an attack, so Duck Fate is their only defense - then punish them when their only defense costs 10 motes.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again - running Sidereals is sure different than running Solars. Their Charm trees are incredibly efficient in some areas, with gaping holes in others. A fight between Sidereals seems to take more thought than with Solars, leading opponents into committing themselves into an inefficient action while not overextending yourself.

Brightfires

06-21-2005, 10:06 PM

Indeed...

And Hatsuyuki (my Serenity-) wants me to tell you that that last bit has officially creeped her out.

She's over in a corner, holding on to her familiar, hiding behind her war god buddy Walls of Granite... and she says she's not coming out. Ever.

Beri

06-21-2005, 10:08 PM

Oh, that's okay, feel free to hide. The Underworld is more patient than you.
- Hugs and kisses, the Abyssals

Mengtzu

06-21-2005, 10:09 PM

She's over in a corner, holding on to her familiar, hiding behind her war god buddy Walls of Granite... and she says she's not coming out. Ever.

No God can save you from the Exalted.

^_^

Brightfires

06-21-2005, 10:09 PM

Oh, that's okay, feel free to hide. The Underworld is more patient than you.
- Hugs and kisses, the Abyssals

Suyu: "Eeep."

On the other hand, Lytek really does want to know where all his missing shards went... :D

Brightfires

06-21-2005, 10:10 PM

No God can save you from the Exalted.

^_^

WG: "Yeah... I tried to tell her that, but what'cha gonna do when a cute gal asks, ya know?"

Beri

07-05-2005, 01:33 AM

Interlude 1: The Autochthonians
 
Sidereal character / Alchemical character:
 
Kara / Unerring Glory-Seeker, Orichalcum Caste
Fas’rial / Twice-Wound Clock of the High Hand, Moonsilver Caste
Rising Sun / Shades of Silver, Moonsilver Caste
Gicer / The Heartless Blade, Soulsteel Caste
 

Storyteller: ----------

Storyteller: The year is now Realm Year 769, six years after the Scarlet Empress disappeared.  In Autochthonia, however, that number would be meaningless, as would any concept of an Empress or a Realm.

Storyteller: For a better sense of time, it is now three days since the Seal of Eight Divinities was broken.  All of Yugash waits with baited breath to hear news of what lies on the other side.

Storyteller: No Alchemicals have gone across yet, deemed to risky to send into what could easily be a corrosive and deadly environment.  But several divisions of mortals have.

Storyteller: The exception is Patropolis of Ot, the massive city-sized Alchemical who led the foray into Creation, basically by sticking his head through the Seal of Eight Divinities.

Storyteller: Using lifts and hatches in Ot's head, several teams of soldiers and scientists made forays into Creation, setting up small structures and bringing back items from the other side.

Storyteller: You all are being groomed to go into Creation, but for now, life is still your usual duty-shifts in the factories, keeping Autochthon alive.

Storyteller: You've seen some of the items; sickly-looking misshapen green masses with red and purple growths oozing from them like open sores.  Perhaps you touched one, and it left a sticky residue all over your hand.

Storyteller: But it seems that your time may be at hand.  You've been summoned to the conference room/laboratory kept by another Alchemical, the Starmetal-caste Lissome Avid Engineer.

Storyteller: As you enter, one by one, she remains working on a wounded, gasping citizen of Yugash, one of the scouts who went across.  His black synthetic leather bodysuit lies nearby, torn and blooded.

Storyteller: She glances over at you, lifting her goggles from her Starmetal-wired head.  "Glad to see you could make it.  This operation just got a lot more complicated."

The Heartless Blade: "How so?"

Twice-Wound Clock: *Clock rushes to the human, circling him quickly and studying his condition, while simultaneously greeting Engineer with a bow and cocking his head in question*

The Heartless Blade: *Looks at Clock*

Storyteller: She steps aside for Twice-Wound Clock.  "Meet Lakash," she says with her usual lack of sympathy or emotion.

Shades of Silver: *Shades just walks into the room and soaks it all in*

The Heartless Blade: "Greetings," said in cold, deadpan voice.

Storyteller: He appears to have been cut by something ragged and sharp.  Most wounds in Autocthonia are either clean cuts or crushing from being trapped in a set of gears; you've
never really seen someone hurt like this.

Storyteller: He's still breathing, though, but unconscious.

The Heartless Blade: "Curious."

The Heartless Blade: "What could cause these?"

Twice-Wound Clock: *in a clean, rather high pitched voice* "Never have I seen anything of this sort."

Storyteller: "He was with Leuxa's group, but we haven't heard back from them.  Lakash here stumbled up to Patropolis of Ot and collapsed."

The Heartless Blade: *looks at Clock and rolls his eyes*

Shades of Silver: "Says something about the whole team."

The Heartless Blade: "Some new threat at the forefront?"

Twice-Wound Clock: "What elements were found in the wounds?  Surely a trace of some substance or another can be found..."

Storyteller: She pulls off her bloody gloves, dropping them in a trash cylinder.  "Maybe there are humans or constructs who live on the other side, or new threats.”

Storyteller: “I don't know, I haven't been across, and Ot doesn't think the organic life on the other side is hostile."

Shades of Silver: *Shades walks over to the others* "Then what could have caused it?"

The Heartless Blade: "Appears to be traces of iron.  How it got there is unknown.”

The Heartless Blade: *points to his red eye implant, a scanning device*

Twice-Wound Clock: "Perhaps Lakash had a bad reaction to the conditions past the Seal."

The Heartless Blade: "What then is our mission?”

Storyteller: "I've sent a missive to The Unerring Glory-Seeker, and she requested you three - two scouts and a warrior, to give the best chance of identifying and neutralizing your target."

Twice-Wound Clock: "Our target?  Source of Lakash's wounds?"

The Heartless Blade: "So when and where are we to report to The Unerring Glory Seeker?"

Storyteller: "Lakash's group was going bearing 130 degrees when we last heard from them.  Head to that area and investigate, identify if there is indeed a threat, and eliminate anything that stands in Autochthonia's way."

Storyteller: "I was hoping she'd be here.  Well, she'll either show up, or she'll catch up once you're past the Seal."

The Heartless Blade: "Understood."

The Heartless Blade: *looks down at his laser cutlass beam klave*

Twice-Wound Clock: "We shall not fail Autochthonia. The threat shall be eliminated, promptly."

Shades of Silver: "As you command."

The Heartless Blade: *Turns and looks toward a bearing of 130 degrees*

Storyteller: She chuckles.  "You'll have to get outside of Autochthonia first, Heartless Blade.  Creation is a whole different world."

The Heartless Blade: "Ahh…and how shall this be done?"

Storyteller: I WILL TAKE YOU

Storyteller: As if in response, a lift opens with a hiss at the back of the room.

Storyteller: "Patropolis of Ot already stuck his big ol' head through the Seal of Eight Divinities.  Getting there is the easy part."

Storyteller: WITHIN MY VISION IS SAFETY:::JOIN ME IN CREATION

Twice-Wound Clock: "Before we leave, information could be discerned..." *Clock dashes towards Lakash, and presses a switch on his silvery arm.  A syringe is expelled.  Turning a dial, twice, it fills first with a green liquid, then an orange.*

Twice-Wound Clock: "Necessity dictates this human will reveal information on the cause of injury. This drug will facilitate this information." *promptly, he punctures the human's arm*

Storyteller: Immediately, Lakash spasms, arching his back as he coughs and gurgles.  With a trembling arm, he grabs at Twice-Wound Clock of the High Hand.

Twice-Wound Clock: "Speak. Information required on conditions of -Creation-"

Storyteller: "Animals!  Trees!  Came from the trees!  BLACK black fur, black swords!  THEY GOT LEUXA!"

Twice-Wound Clock: "Query- what are trees? Animals? Big rats? Explain."

Storyteller: Engineer inserts commentary as necessary.  "Trees are a sort of organic pillar."

Storyteller: "And 'animals'” - the actual word is, of course, a short phrase in the Autochthonian language – “are like rats, yes.  Non-human, non-construct mobile organic entities."

Storyteller: She gestures to a cage in the back of the room.  Around some brown, textured log is coiled an iridescent green thing, curved like a wire.  "That is an animal, one of several types."

Shades of Silver: *Walks over and looks at it* "Curious."

Storyteller: "I'm not sure what 'fur' is."

Twice-Wound Clock: "Lakash, define your term, "fur". And explain about animals, and the swords you mentioned."

Storyteller: And Unerring Glory-Seeker notices that her communication module is blinking, requesting her presence at Lissome Avid Engineer's lab.

Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-seeker checks her communication module and deploys herself towards style='mso-bidi-font-style: normal'>Lissome Avid Engineer's lab.

Storyteller: He looks up at you with wild eyes.  "There are...monsters...in Creation."  Now, 'monsters' is a word you know, used to describe the twisted gremlins that live in and sabotage Autochthon's bowels.

Storyteller: With that, he coughs up a thick, black bile, and dies.

Storyteller: With immediate, mechanical precision, Lissome Avid Engineer steps up to Lakash, removes the soulgem and its long spikes from his forehead, and places it in a receptacle made specifically for the purpose.

Twice-Wound Clock: Twice Wound Clock makes a disapproving sound. "Unfortunate loss of life. Information granted made Lakash's life great in service of Autochthon."

Storyteller: From the other side of the room, a well-lubricated hiss marks the opening of the door, and the entrance of Unerring Glory-Seeker.

Shades of Silver: "Sometimes at price, but always valuable."

Storyteller: Engineer spends no more time with Lakash, immediately moving on to her next project.  "Unerring Glory-Seeker, I'm pleased you could make it.  The others you requested are here; two Moonsilver scouts, one Soulsteel warrior."

Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Excellent," Unerring Glory-seeker comments as she makes her way towards the others, evaluating them and looking around the room. "Um, did I miss something?"

Shades of Silver: *bows to Glory-Seeker*  "I am at your service."

The Heartless Blade: "As you command."

The Heartless Blade: *bows as well*

Twice-Wound Clock: Bowing his head, Twice Wound Clock reports. "Commander Unerring Glory-Seeker, information for our expedition has been granted by human Lakash." He informs her of what was said, word for word.

Storyteller: Engineer pulls a black, synthetic leather sheet over Lakash.  "I have elsewhere to be.  The others will bring you up to speed, Glory-Seeker; when you are ready, tell Patropolis of Ot, then board that lift at the rear."

The Heartless Blade: *Turns toward Glory Seeker*

The Heartless Blade: "Scans of what has been brought back from Creation reveal iron and weak creatures.”

Twice-Wound Clock: Twice Wound Clock fits his syringe back into his arm. "Word of 'monsters' causes questions of levels of weakness in creatures the first expedition encountered."

The Heartless Blade: "agreed"

Unerring Glory-Seeker: "'Monsters' like those that afflict Autochthon, or of another nature?"

Storyteller: Lissome Avid Engineer leaves.

Twice-Wound Clock: With that said, Twice Wound Clock speeds into position behind his commander. "Unknown variable. Likelihood low of creatures as weak as gremlins to have caused such wounds."

Shades of Silver: "Known is that one of the party was captured."

Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-Seeker looks to the exit Lissome Avid Engineer used, thenback to the others. "A 'monster' is what happened to ...?" Sentence kind of trailed off. "Is it imperative we retrieve captured party member?"

Twice-Wound Clock: He indicates the jagged cut wound on the dead human, which is unlike anything we have seen. We are used to clean cuts or crushing wounds, nothing as jagged as this. "Information to be gleaned from surviving members of threat."

Shades of Silver: "Captured party member is source of information, nothing else. Not mission objective to knowledge"

Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Likelihood captured party member is still functioning?"

Shades of Silver: "Unknown."

The Heartless Blade: "We are to venture out, identify, and neutralize if necessary."

Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Very well," Unerring Glory-Seeker nods.

Twice-Wound Clock: Twice Wound Clock cocks his head. "Likelihood diminishes for time spent in safety. Speed is of the essence."

Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Understood. Are we prepared now?"

The Heartless Blade: "Yes."

Shades of Silver: "Affirmative."

Twice-Wound Clock: "Affirmative."

Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Then, inform Patropolis of Ot and let us depart."

The Heartless Blade: *heads for the lift*

Storyteller: I AM INFORMED AND PREPARED

Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Excellent."

Shades of Silver: *follows silently behind Heartless Blade*

Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-seeker follows the others.

Twice-Wound Clock: Twice Wound Clock follows promptly.

Storyteller: Once the Alchemicals are in the lift, the doors slide closed, and it begins a smooth journey upward, only marked by the lines of lights that go by.

Storyteller: As you climb higher and higher, a slight rustling begins around you...then a rattling.  It becomes a cacophony of steel and sparks as you feel your essence, your very inner being, pulled, shifted, twisted like a fan belt.

Storyteller: Then suddenly the doors open.  A soft 'ding' marks your arrival, and there is silence.

Beri

07-05-2005, 01:36 AM

Storyteller: A rush of sharp air flows through the door, and the light blinds you for a half-second before your arc protectors adjust and shield your eyes.

Storyteller: You would be amazed by the sight of trees and plants, except that Autochthonia has already set up camp here, taking all the organics as samples and clearing the ground.

Storyteller: So the sight isn't too unfamiliar; black-suited technicians working, portable plastisteel walls and towers set up.

Storyteller: Above it all is terrifying, though; nothing at all.  A blue sheet draped over the world.  None of the close comfort of a ceiling; no reassurance that your god and your world are close at hand.

Storyteller: One of the soldiers running around walks to you and salutes.  He looks exactly like all the others; black bodysuit, black rebreather mask, black arc protector goggles.

The Heartless Blade: *salutes*

Shades of Silver: *nods*

Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-seeker responds appropriately to the black-suited soldier.

Twice-Wound Clock: Twice Wound Clock follows suit. He is momentarily distracted by using his Moonsilver extending lance to try to reach the top of the sky, to find he falls short of the task.

The Heartless Blade: *orients himself 130 degrees*

Storyteller: "You're here to follow Lakash's group, right?"  He points.  "Right that way.  Uh..." he checks a device in his hand.  "THAT way's 0 degrees."

Storyteller: Your own systems try to orient you according to Autochthon's elemental poles, so they're going haywire since those poles apparently no longer exist.  But with the soldier's help, you can figure it out.

Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-seeker does her best to ignore the lack of roof, focusing on the task at hand. "Very well," she says, looking the indicated way.

Storyteller: "I have 150 men ready to go with you."

The Heartless Blade: "Affirmative"

The Heartless Blade: "Have any others from Lakash's unit returned?"

Storyteller: A gate is set up in that direction; beyond it you see strange green shapes, similar to the organic constructs you've seen before in Engineer's lab.

Storyteller: "None.  My guess is that it's a total loss.  We were going to head out after them, but, well, when we heard some Alchemicals might be coming, we decided to wait."

Twice-Wound Clock: Twice Wound Clock orients himself appropriately, and sets a course. He cocks his head towards Glory. "Query - Shades of Silver and myself are accustomed to fast scouting missions. Shall we proceed before the troops and report back?"

Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-seeker considers the query, then nods. "It may prove useful. 150 men are difficult to move with much speed and efficiency at once."

The Heartless Blade: *orients himself 130 degrees*

Shades of Silver: "With our scouting reports will help ensure most effective use of time and manpower"

Twice-Wound Clock: He bobs his head. "Oriented. Ready stealth mode." A whirring noise is heard, and a couple clicks. "Set course, parallel mine, Shades of Silver. Upon hostles, retreat to fall back position for report. Agreed?"

Shades of Silver: "Agreed"

Shades of Silver: *Turns to soldier "How far from here was the last tranmission recieved?"

Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-seeker approves of Twice Wound Clock's plan, and looks to the others.

Unerring Glory-Seeker: "That was my query. How long was Lakesh's party disembarked before any information returned? And how far is it estimated they went before they encountered trouble?"

Storyteller: "They sent a runner back yesterday, who said they were four miles out."

Storyteller: Behind you, the towering golden face of Patropolis of Ot slowly turns itself to the right, eyes calmly scanning the horizon.

The Heartless Blade: *stations himself with troops

Shades of Silver: *positions self parallel to Clock*

The Heartless Blade: "Awaiting your order, Glory Seeker."

Twice-Wound Clock: Twice Wound Clock commences the scouting scan, in a quadrant to the right of Shades of Silver.

Shades of Silver: *turns to Clock* "Engage"

The Heartless Blade: *Begins march with troops*

Storyteller: Shades of Silver and Twice-Wound Clock advance in a speedy, stealthy sprint through the underbrush.  Behind them, Glory-Seeker and Heartless Blade follow, their troops arrayed behind them with crossbows and spears.

Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-seeker leads the troups, staying aware herself, but leaving the grunt of the scanning to the scouts ahead of them.

Storyteller: You barely have time to register the incredible variety of plant and animal life you pass along the way.  It rustles, it crunches, it scrapes against your metal skin.

Storyteller: Several of the troops stumble in a patch of mud, or manage to bonk their heads on a low-lying branch.  You find it amazing and offensive that these hazards have not been marked.

Storyteller: I mean, someone could hurt themselves!  If there are creatures in Creation, why don't they mark their dangerous areas?

Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-seeker speculates if these dangerous areas were left by the monsters they are seeking out now. . . as a defensive measure against intruders.

Storyteller: Not like the bright, shining pictographs in Autochthon that mark everything from 'electrical arc hazard' to 'slippery walkway' to 'instant, painful, bubbling death'.  Yeah, that last one's an interesting sign, all right.

Storyteller: It takes some time for the Moonsilver scouts to cover the distance to Leuxa's last report, but all the way it's clear that a group of men passed through here.  The Autochthonians are not stealthy or subtle.

Storyteller: A shout alarms you from the treetops, and with a crunch, Leuxa's lifeless body falls in front of Shades of Silver.

Storyteller: A black-skinned humanoid animal, with dirty black hair and an angry look on its face, hops up and down on a branch and screams at you.

Shades of Silver: *moves carefully over to the corpse and regards the creature with care*

Storyteller: He's quite dead, in the same way that Lakash was.  His soulgem has been ripped from his forehead, and his soul is forever lost to Autochthon, never to be reborn.

Shades of Silver: *clicks tongue in vexation, picks up corpse and heads to Glory Seeker*

Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-seeker halts everyone as Shades of Silver returns with the limp corpse, and frowns. "Was this the missing party member who we were searching for?"

Shades of Silver: *nods* "He soul is lost"

The Heartless Blade: "was a threat identified?"

Storyteller: The animal in the trees cheers as Shades of Silver leaves, and continues barking at Twice-Wound Clock.

Twice-Wound Clock: Twice Wound Clock tries to assess the danger of the creature, as a syringe pops out of his arm once more. He keeps his distance, scanning.

Shades of Silver: "An organic being was there when the corpse came into view, type unknown. Threat unconfirmed"

Storyteller: Heat and noise in the distance suggest there may be more of these creatures nearby.

The Heartless Blade: "We must ensure our unit’s safety."

The Heartless Blade: *begins march toward Twice Wound Clock*

Unerring Glory-Seeker: 'Yes," Glory-seeker nods. "More must be known about this organic being. The 150 men should wait for further assessment before marching forward as a whole."

Shades of Silver: *Shades sets down the corpse and joins Twice Wound Clock*

Shades of Silver: *whispers to Clock* "Flanking operation?"

Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-seeker seems a bit at a loss for a moment, looking around at the 150 otherwise useless men at the moment.

Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Fodder," she mutters to herself and orders them to remain in a defensive position until a threat is confirmed. Then goes to join the others.

The Heartless Blade: *Removes lazer cutlass and scans creature*

Twice-Wound Clock: "Analysis incomplete. Several organic life signatures. Do not make hostile moves before threat level can be determined." Twice Wound Clock's voice is quiet.

Storyteller: The creature has begun a steady rain of twigs and small rocks at Twice-Wound Clock.

The Heartless Blade: "Attacking?"

Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-seeker rises an eyebrow as she arrives. . . perplexed by the organic being's less than effective deterrent upon Twice-wound Clock. Surely this isn't what happened to the first party.

The Heartless Blade: "It is frail and similar to our rats in some ways."

Twice-Wound Clock: "Behavior aggressive. Command instructions?" His head turns briefly towards Unerring Glory-seeker.

Storyteller: As Silver returns, and Glory-Seeker and Blade arrive, the creature scampers back along the trees, moving about 20 feet back to another branch before continuing it's 'assault'.

Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-seeker pauses, watching for a moment before responding. "It doesn't seem to be the creature we should be looking for, but perhaps it is a decoy. . . distracting us from the real threat?"

The Heartless Blade: "Perhaps it is trying to communicate."

The Heartless Blade: *picks up twig and throws it at creature*

Shades of Silver: "Options?"

Twice-Wound Clock: "I will try to apprehend the creature without violence, if I may. A distraction would be needed."

Storyteller: The creature is struck by the twig, and winces as it is, but continues shouting.  It seems to be trying to show off a pattern of white lines and markings on its skin, as well.

The Heartless Blade: *Continues to throw objects back at the creature in an attempt to cause a change in its behavior*

Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Hold," Unerring Glory-seeker says. "The organic being seems to be acting in a territorial manner. Is there a way to appease it?"

The Heartless Blade: *pauses*

The Heartless Blade: *Shows off his shiny lines in his soulsteel body*

Storyteller: There is a rustling in the treetops.  Another creature, similar to the first, appears from the cover of the leaves, likewise bearing the body of one of the Autochthonian scouts.  It tosses the corpse to the forest floor.

The Heartless Blade: "Clearly a threat."

The Heartless Blade: *pulls lazer sword*

The Heartless Blade: "Orders, Glory?"

Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Second assessment," Glory-seeker requests from the other two.

Storyteller: At the sight of your gigantic, glowing blade, the creatures turn and start scampering back into the underbrush, shouting between each other.

Twice-Wound Clock: "Threat to mortals, not to agents of Autochthon."

Shades of Silver: "No longer an active threat. Curious"

Unerring Glory-Seeker: "That seems to work," Glory-seeker comments. "Suggestions on how to proceed?"

The Heartless Blade: "Resume march in this direction and search for more signs of the unit."

Twice-Wound Clock: "I recommend we capture one of the creatures for study. Perhaps a method of communication can be established. Then we proceed."

The Heartless Blade: "Recovered corpses indicate direction of incident."

Shades of Silver: "Agreed, further study could prove useful."

Unerring Glory-Seeker: "I agree. We can capture one and send it back with a small group of the humans after it is subdued," Glory-seeker says.

Storyteller: And with a roar, an entire horde of these things starts pouring out of the forest.  From behind trees, down from branches, out from bushes, they emerge, brandishing swords and spears and charging for the Alchemicals.

Twice-Wound Clock: "Threat level, risen. It is recommended that defenses be raised, promptly."

The Heartless Blade: *CHARGES the front and slashes broadly*

Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Eliminate threat," Glory-seeker says.

Shades of Silver: "Acknowledged."

Storyteller: As the other Alchemicals calmly discuss the situation, Heartless Blade fulfills his role, instantly dividing three beasts in two and cauterizing the wounds, sending the sizzling torsos flying into the trees.

The Heartless Blade: *Throws corpse of one creature into the horde and charges cutlass low to the ground*

Storyteller: A shout and cheer from behind you indicates that the Autochthonian troops have heard the sound of battle being joined.

The Heartless Blade: *As horde is reached, he brings the cutlass slashing through, back and forth, cutting a hole through their front line.*

Storyteller: The animals swarm around you, seemingly hoping to overwhelm you through sheer numbers.  They do outnumber you, at least fifty to one, but Heartless Blade has mowed down seven already by himself.

The Heartless Blade: *Summons troops to hit them as I cut the heart of their formation*

The Heartless Blade: *Begins swinging lazer cutlass in double x patterns around himself to fend off the sheer numbers*

Twice-Wound Clock: Twice Wound Clock holds his position. Right before a creature reaches him, he sets his lance in places and impales the creature, and swings his lance around to another who jumps down at him from the trees.

Storyteller: The troops try to pierce through the enemies to reach your position.  Twenty die in a hail of crossbow fire.

Storyteller: Outgoing fire, that is.  These things don't seem to use ranged weapons.

The Heartless Blade: *Begins cutting creatures and jumps over some of the creatures to try and defend the troops*

Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-seeker removes her wire-chain whip and in a moment it crackles with electricity. She swings it above her head before striking into the mass of organic beings with a wide arc.

Storyteller: Your troops, unfortunately, are not Exalted.  A dozen have fallen already to spears and swords, and another dozen are down by the time Heartless Blade sweeps away the enemies in front of them.

The Heartless Blade: *Sees the fallen corpses reflected in his soulsteel body and begins destroying the weapons of the enemy*

Shades of Silver: *Flips open a compartment in his left forearm, pulling out a chakram. Sets it spinning and hurls it into the nearest group of creatures, slicing away limbs from the creatures*

Storyteller: The humming, circular blade pauses in midair, making quick slashes and impossible turns, and throwing off a fine mist of blood as it cuts.

Twice-Wound Clock: Rallying towards the troops, Twice Wound Clock uses his lance as a barrier, batting down a whole line of creatures before they further shred the human line.

Storyteller: You're taking blows and impacts from all over - there's simply too many to defend against.  Not that you're losing or anything, just getting pinged.

Unerring Glory-Seeker:  "Men, fall back. Allow us to take the brunt of this attack," Unerring Glory-seeker shouts, sending another wide arc of her electrified whip into the crowds of beings.

Storyteller: With every touch, one falls down.  One unlucky fellow gets the whip wrapped around his torso, and his skin sizzles, sparks, and chars.

The Heartless Blade: "Give crossbow fire to the green mass from which they emerged, men!"

Storyteller: The troops nod, reload, and unleash their crossbows.  Perhaps a little too accurately; a wider spray would make better suppressing fire, but a grunt suggests that their shots found a soft target.

The Heartless Blade: *Begins beheading creatures smacking the heads of them toward the still active creatures*

Storyteller: A hoot resounds from the forest, and the warriors hoot in return.  Despite the absolute slaughter you're unleashing, they're not backing down or growing fearful.

Twice-Wound Clock: Leaping into the fray, Twice Wound Clock jumps into the larger mass of enemies, and begins to spin, using his lance to send the creatures flying at great speeds.

The Heartless Blade: Turning to the organic matter the creatures use for cover, Heartless Blade charges, slashing into the cover, arcing around the front and returning to the troops.

Shades of Silver: Shades of Silver sends his chakram into a new group and takes to the trees to attempt to assess the situation in full.

Storyteller: Blood rains from the sky.  Another call comes from the forest, and the beasts take a collective step back - still defending, but breaking off the attack.

Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-seeker pulls her whip back, swinging it in smaller circles on alternating sides of herself. Trying to assess what this new development means.

Twice-Wound Clock: "Query, do we pursue the enemies, try to take out their command?"

The Heartless Blade: "Capture for sample and info."

Storyteller: Another one has emerged from the forest, a woman.  Dressed in red armor of some organic substance, she holds her hands above her head, palms forward, and speaks in a clicking sort of gibberish.

Beri

07-05-2005, 01:42 AM

The Heartless Blade: *Grabs nearest creature by the throat and throws to Clock*

Storyteller: She has the same dark skin and white markings as the others.

Storyteller: They resist as you grapple them, but they cannot withstand your might.  Still, each Exalt can only hold onto three or four at a time as they struggle.

Storyteller: It goes down.  Your serum, although only tested on Autochthonian subjects, seems to do the trick on these things.

Twice-Wound Clock: Catching the thrown creature, Twice Wound Clock plunges a syringe into one, lulling it into unconsciousness - or so is the intent. He moves to flank Unerring Glory-seeker, holding on to the creature as he cocks his head.

Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-seeker stops her twirling, but keeps her whip in her hand. She takes a step towards the woman in an attempt to decipher her speech and communicate.

Shades of Silver: *Positions self above this creature and awaits orders, recalling the chakram*

The Heartless Blade: "Unusual heat reading from new subject."

The Heartless Blade: *Stations self in path between the new creature and Glory Seeker*

Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-seeker frowns at their primitive and ugly language. It is hard to interpret. . . .she attempts to reply in their language an answer of comprehension.

The Heartless Blade: "Orders, Seeker?"

Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-seeker says aloud for everyone. "They offer a truce. This land is ours. . .the five miles we claim. Any further and it is their land."

The Heartless Blade: "Understood."

The Heartless Blade: *Steps back…but keeps his eyes on the group."

Twice-Wound Clock: "What reason have we to trust them? They have killed our people, ruthlessly."

Shades of Silver: *Nods in agreement*

Unerring Glory-Seeker: "We invaded their land. . . it stands to reason they'd retaliate," Glory-seeker says. Then to the woman, tries to make out the world "trade" in their language while pointing to the one of them they'd captured and subdued.

Storyteller: She nods.  "Trade.  Ally."

Storyteller: Of course, she's speaking full, fluent Flametongue.  The gaps in her sentences are your fault, not hers.

Twice-Wound Clock: "Can they provide us with the resources we need? If not, I see no reason to let such hostile creatures stand in our way. They will attack us the moment they deem it worth the risk."

Shades of Silver: *Moves over to the others and drops out of the trees behind Clock*

The Heartless Blade: "If we are to trade we should analyze some of the remains, yes?"

Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Perhaps we can get back what we want from them and then work towards an alliance with them. It would be useful to have organic beings of creation working with us rather than against us," Unerring Glory-seeker says.

Unerring Glory-Seeker: "We could use their help. What I'd really like back is our soul stones and and living members of the party."

Twice-Wound Clock: "Further, do these creatures have souls? If so, can they be converted for use by our Lord?" Twice Wound Clock shakes the unconscious creature in his hands gently.

Shades of Silver: "Perhaps taking one of the dead or dying would provide the answer."

Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Point taken," Unerring Glory-seeker says.

Unerring Glory-Seeker:  She points to the lifeless body of the first member, then looks to the woman who seems to be in charge of the organic being.

Unerring Glory-Seeker: "More?" she makes out in their clicking language, trying to find out if they still had any of our party members.

Storyteller: "More."  She says something you don't understand.  Frowning, she crosses her arms over her chest, lolling her tongue out like a corpse, then nods at you.

Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-seeker frowns. "I think just said she has more of our party, but that they're dead."

Shades of Silver: "Perhaps an inqury about the soulgems would be of best use," muses Shades.

Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Want." Unerring Glory-seeker points to her own soulgem.

The Heartless Blade: *Grabs some of the fallen body parts and tosses them to Clock*

Storyteller: "Shiny!"  She opens her hands, mimicing something glimmering.  "Flash!"  She calls out over her shoulder.  "Shiny!"

Twice-Wound Clock: Twice Wound Clock agrees. He then proceeds to scan the area for signs of any of the Five Materials, climbing up his lance like a ladder and trying to find a familiar 'scent'.

Storyteller: A leather sack is brough forth, laid in front of Glory-Seeker.  It contains a few soulgems, a few shiny gems (perhaps valuable in Creation, but common in Autochthonia), some worthless flakes of silver rock, and...jade!

Storyteller: Stones and discs of magical jade!

Storyteller: It's not going to keep Autochthon alive any longer, but still, this is exactly what you're looking for!

Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-seeker picks up sack and nods. She picks up a jade piece. "Where?" she tries to ask.

Twice-Wound Clock: Picking up the reading of jade, Twice Wound Clock moves closer to look at the discs provided.

Storyteller: She seems to realize you're looking for more jewels.  "Jade."  She points southward, gesturing to emphasize a long way away.

Storyteller: "Big tribe.  Name 'Gem'."

Unerring Glory-Seeker: She points to herself and all the others, then asks "Pass? Go?" trying to communicate that they want to go there.

Storyteller: That seems to amuse her, and she smiles.  "Yes.  Fight, Gem.  Gem big bad tribe.  More jade."

Unerring Glory-Seeker: "There's a tribe far to the south from here called Gem. They have more of this jade . . . they seem to be warring with this tribe here," she communicates to the others.

Twice-Wound Clock: "I do not see what use these creatures have here. Will they fight with us against the Gem tribe?"

Shades of Silver: "Setting us on their enemy, a benefit for both of us, it would seem"

Shades of Silver: "Clock is right, will they aid in the coming battle for more of the Jade?"

The Heartless Blade: "We should study them, and see if they pose a threat or not."

Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Basically, we help them against their enemy, we get more jade. . . I see." She tries to ask. She points to the woman, then to herself. then says "fight?" and points south.

The Heartless Blade: "How might we use them?"

Storyteller: "Fight Gem?"  She seems hesitant.  "You, me, fight Gem?  Both?"

Unerring Glory-Seeker: To Blade, "They know the lay of the land. . . they can guide us."

Unerring Glory-Seeker: Nods. "Want Jade," pointing to herself and the others.

The Heartless Blade: "But with a strong base growing out ward from Ot we can lead more, and take what we need to survive."

Storyteller: She grins again.  "Yes, fight Gem!  Fight Gem!"  A roar goes up from the group.  "You, more strong."  She flexes.  "Need more."  She points to your troops and hers.  "More, more, more.  Gem have more.  Us, need more."

Unerring Glory-Seeker: "This is an option. We can bring it back and discuss it then.. . . " she says to the others. "They would agree to our help."

The Heartless Blade: "Understood."

Shades of Silver: *nods*

Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Anyone oppose this?" she asks them.

Shades of Silver: "Benefits us, I have no complaints, we will get precious Jade for it."

Twice-Wound Clock: "Negative. They do not seem reliable, but perhaps when they realize our might they will serve us well on our mission."

Unerring Glory-Seeker: "They have a concept of our might. . . which is why they want us to help. It would also give us more of a chance to study them." She points to the unconcious but live member of their tribe, then asks the woman "want?"

Storyteller: She shakes her head.  "No want.  Weak.  Not strong."

Unerring Glory-Seeker: She points to herself. "Unerring Glory-seeker." Then she points to her. "Name?"

Storyteller: "Golden Venna Boar Rider."

The Heartless Blade: "How did our other unit die again?"

Shades of Silver: "It is the mission objective, to find that threat."

Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-seeker nods. "I'll ask. . . " She points to one of their dead and asks "How?" then sticks her tongue out as she did to represent dead.

Storyteller: "We strong."  The words come out fearlessly, but there's a momentary twitch in her eye, like she expects you to cut her down.

Unerring Glory-Seeker: She nods. "Yes," she tells her, then says to the others. "She says they killed them. I can only assume its for defense purposes. We shall take them back for further examination and return here when we have a better plan."

The Heartless Blade: "Understood."

Unerring Glory-Seeker: She points to herself and the others. "Return," she says to Golden Venna Boar Rider.

Shades of Silver: *nods*

Storyteller: "I return.  You, me, allies."

Twice-Wound Clock: Helping to collect the wounded humans, he keeps the prisoner creature sedated and prepares to follow Unerring Glory-seeker.

Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Allies," Unerring Glory-seeker responds. "Okay, lets head back and pool our data. We have the soul stones and a sample of the Jade we can pursue.”

Shades of Silver: "Understood." *aids Clock in his task*

Storyteller: She tries to communicate that she'll come with you, as an ally, but that her people are not slaves or captives, and will stay in the forest and leave further black-clothed explorers alone.

Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-seeker considers this. "She wants to come with us. . . but the rest of her people will stay here and leave our humans alone."

Storyteller: She doesn't seem to mind if you take the unconscious or dead, though.  Besides the one you drugged, there are about five wounded and unconscious but not dead.

Unerring Glory-Seeker: "We can have the wounded because they are weak."

Shades of Silver: "Taking some of them would prove whether or not they could be converted as Twice-wound Clock has suggested."

Twice-Wound Clock: "Their culture of battle may be of aid to us. They may not have what we require, but perhaps they can help us claim it. And if their souls could be used, we would be serving Autochthon well."

Shades of Silver: *Grabs one of the wounded creatures among the soldiers*

Storyteller: Your soldiers pick up any wounded you indicate.  They've already stripped the Autochthonian dead of their soulgems, respirators and arc protectors.

Storyteller: Some of the savages seem amazed when the human faces underneath the equipment are revealed.

Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Okay, let's get back," Unerring Glory-seeker says and nods in agreement with Golden Venna Boar Rider's terms. She plans on also taking the time to better learn their primitive language.

The Heartless Blade: *seeing no need of himself he marches back into the formation of troops

Storyteller: The troops turn and begin to march back to Autochthon, while the tribesmen skulk back into the forest.

Storyteller: Golden Venna Boar Rider poses no resistance, the Alchemicals already haven proven their strength.  The march back to Patropolis of Ot passes quickly.

Storyteller: Many of the troops guarding the Autochthonian front camp stare in awe at the exotic, brightly armored, dark skinned woman who marches beside you.  In the lightless world of Autochthon, even a tan is unheard of.

Storyteller: You clamber up Patropolis of Ot's angular cheeks, and a hatch in his head opens for you.  Golden Venna Boar Rider makes noises of awe and fear as you begin the descent back to Autochthon.

Storyteller: And the booming voice of Patropolis of Ot doesn't calm her down any, as you make small talk with a city.

Storyteller: DID IT GO WELL YOU HAVE QUITE AN ODD CAPTIVE I HOPE WE LEARN MUCH

Unerring Glory-Seeker: "This is Golden Venna Boar Rider. She is the leader of a small tribe near where we made camp. She gave us these," opening the sack and laying out the contents. "And can help us retrieve more Jade."

Unerring Glory-Seeker: "We have captured a sample of her tribe for analysis."

Storyteller: AUTOCHTHON WILL BE PLEASED JADE IS HIS BLOOD THE CREATURES OF CREATION ARE MANY AND STRANGE

Unerring Glory-Seeker: "We have made an alliance with her tribe in return for more Jade. She knows of an opposing tribe that has this jade."

Storyteller: JADE IS ONLY ONE OF MANY MATERIALS BUT THIS IS GOOD THIS TRIBE WILL POSE NO THREAT TO US MANY TROOPS ARE READY TO MARCH IN YOUR NAME

Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Her people can lead us to sources of the material we seek," Unerring Glory-seeker says. "Thank you."

Storyteller: The lift stops in the interior laboratories of Autochthon, where Lissome Avid Engineer and a handful of Autochthonian government officials wait for your return and your report.

Storyteller: Golden Venna Boar Rider is passed into the custody of Lissome Avid Engineer and her team of scientists and researchers, with the emphasis to treat her gently, since she -might- have a soul.

Storyteller: It would be some time before the Autochthonian government saw fit to press on an continue the invasion into Creation, despite their losses.  Golden Venna Boar Rider would teach them much.

Storyteller: But that is a story for next week.

Storyteller: ----------

A note to readers, and my players: The players went pretty heavily with the robotics and stilted speech. Which is fine, actually! Alchemicals have a thing called ‘Clarity,’ which is similar in function to Limit or Paradox (for their Sidereals). The more Clarity you have, the more robotic and inhuman you are. Low-Clarity Alchemicals can actually be quite kind, and good conversation partners. Let’s assume that, since they’re being rushed through their training in order to attack Creation, that they've ended up with fairly high Clarity scores.

SJE

07-05-2005, 02:25 AM

[QUOTE=BeriA note to readers, and my players: The players went pretty heavily with the robotics and stilted speech. Which is fine, actually! Alchemicals have a thing called ‘Clarity,’ which is similar in function to Limit or Paradox (for their Sidereals). The more Clarity you have, the more robotic and inhuman you are. Low-Clarity Alchemicals can actually be quite kind, and good conversation partners. Let’s assume that, since they’re being rushed through their training in order to attack Creation, that they've ended up with fairly high Clarity scores.[/QUOTE]

I kept expecting them to break into a round of "By your command, Imperious Leader" or "EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!"

Must have been a hard temptation to control!

SJE

Beri

07-12-2005, 01:34 AM

Interlude 1: The Autochthonians
Part 2 of 2

Storyteller: ----------
Storyteller: It has now been three weeks since the events in Creation - the skirmish with the tribe of Golden Venna Boar Rider, and her return to Autochthon with you.
Storyteller: She was suitably awed by the wonders of Autochthon, a level of industry which she had never even imagined.
Storyteller: She didn't have a whole lot of time to enjoy it, however, as she was passed into the hands of Lissome Avid Engineer, and became a research subject. Well treated, but still a guinea pig.
Storyteller: Now, three weeks later, Unerring Glory-Seeker is called again to the lab of Lissome Avid Engineer.
Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-Seeker enters the Lissome Avid Engineer's lab once again after three weeks since her first trip to Creation.
Storyteller: Golden Venna Boar Rider lies on the table in the center of the chamber, where Lakash laid before he died.
Storyteller: She is held down by synthetic leather straps, and seems dazed - which hasn't slowed the stream of shouts she levels at Engineer.
Storyteller: "Unerring Glory-Seeker." She says to acknowledge you. "I've got two things you'll want to hear."
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "And what would those two things be?" she asks, approaching the table Golden Venna Boar Rider is lying on.
Unerring Glory-Seeker: She glances to Lissome Avid Engineer.
Storyteller: "The first is that we've confirmed that these creatures aren't truly human; they lack souls. The scouts have brought back about two dozen of these 'people'."
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Disappointing," she says simply and awaits the second piece of news.
Storyteller: "Every last one of them died immediately upon the implantation of a soulgem. I performed four of the surgeries personally, and the result was the same."
Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-Seeker frowns. "I didn't know that could happen."
Storyteller: "Autopsies showed that the membranes of the soul are present in the brain; they simply lack true existence."
Storyteller: "A vessel with nothing to fill it."
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "I see," she says, contemplating that.
Storyteller: Golden Venna Boar Rider continues shouting, all the more passionate now that she has two targets.
Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-Seeker attempts to make out somewhat she is saying.
Storyteller: She's not speaking nearly slowly enough for you to pick up anything.
Storyteller: "Our guest brings us to my second topic; I believe we've made headway into their bizarre language." She holds up a thin metal sliver, about the size and shape of a pin. "Let me see your wrist."
Unerring Glory-Seeker: With her eyes still upon Golden Venna Boar Rider, Unerring Glory-Seeker holds out her wrist to Lissome Avid Engineer.
Storyteller: With a lightning-quick motion, Engineer jabs the pin into Unerring Glory-Seeker's wrist-artery. "Aushaa! Shu'kri morrn'a pa*#&$^%*#*^#*^me go! I'm not your animal, I'm a human being! This isn't our agreement!"
Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-Seeker blinks, then looks to Lissome Avid Engineer. "Excellent. . . and yes. Is it quite necessary that Golden Venna Boar Rider be bound in such a manner?"
Storyteller: Engineer steps around you to stand near Boar Rider. "It's pretty much all the same; an animal desire for freedom above all else, a fear of confinement."
Storyteller: She tsks. "And we have so much to show her, if we could trust her with the knowledge."
Storyteller: Engineer gestures to a twisted and broken telescope wrapped around one of the support pillars. "That was the result of our first instinct to let her roam free."
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "If we want her help, would it not be better to make her feel comfortable instead of . . . however she is now?" Unerring Glory-Seeker offers.
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Oh," she says, looking from the telescope to Golden Venna Boar Rider. "Can she understand us?" she asks.
Storyteller: "You POISONED me!" Golden Venna shouts. "You're lucky it was just your looking-glass, I'm gonna tear this whole place apart!"
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Poisoned?" Unerring Glory-Seeker arches an eyebrow.
Storyteller: Engineer sighs. "General anesthetic, simply to calm her down. In fact, it's time for her next dose." She goes to search for an undamaged syringe.
Storyteller: "Of course, she's your prisoner, but I have found that she's much more docile with the right chemical. That's how we managed to translate this 'flametongue'."
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Perhaps it is best to try and reason with her," Unerring Glory-Seeker says, holding up a hand to stop Lissome Avid Engineer.
Storyteller: Golden Venna spits at you. But she's listening.
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "She did not come as my prisoner, but as my guest," Unerring Glory-Seeker says, now a bit angry. "She has been ill-treated."
Storyteller: "It's my job to make sure this war effort goes as smoothly as possible, and that involves getting what useful information exists in this female's brain-cage, however it was necessary. This is one of her calmer moods."
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "If you had been having this much trouble with her, I wish you'd sent for me. I had a repertoire with this woman," Unerring Glory-Seeker says.
Unerring Glory-Seeker: She looks to Golden Venna Boar Rider. "Can you understand me?"
Storyteller: Engineer is growing heated, as well, very unusual for this calm scientist. Her attention has drifted from Golden Venna to you, her experiments and precautions forgotten as your complaints lodge under her skin.
Storyteller: And that's the moment Golden Venna needs.
Storyteller: As you turn your gaze back to her, she erupts into a nova of flame, incinerating the synthetic leather straps as she rolls into a predatory crouch on the floor, poised to lash out at Engineer.
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Wait!" Unerring Glory-Seeker cries . . . suppressing her surprise at Golden Venna Boar Rider's ability to combust in such a manner.
Storyteller: Glass objects around the room shatter as Golden Venna gives a war cry and leaps at Engineer. She brings a blade up to intercept, but Golden Venna flickers like flame, slipping underneath her guard and putting Engineer in a hold.
Storyteller: The flames lick over Engineer's Starmetal skin, not harming her but blackening her clothing. "Now," Venna says, "I am in control. Now we talk, and if I don't like what you say, this one dies."
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Golden Venna Boar Rider," Unerring Glory-Seeker says, holding her hands in front of her to show she herself has not gone for her weapon. "I apologize for the ill-treatment you have received.
Unerring Glory-Seeker: You were unprepared for the methods of my people. And they were unconsidering of yours."
Storyteller: "I saw pride in you; strength I could respect! But now I see your true face; trickery and poisons! Where is our march on Gem? Where is your army now?"
Storyteller: Engineer, for her part, seems nonplussed by this. No doubt she's using the opportunity to run through simulations of her next project.
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "We were seeking a way to better communicate with your people. We are seeking a great many things for our great society now on the verge of waning," Unerring Glory-Seeker says. "We will march together on Gem,
Unerring Glory-Seeker: but our people needed time."
Storyteller: Golden Venna brandishes a saber of flame to Engineer's neck. "And what proof do I have of your intentions? I came with you to spare my people, but now I am alone, and I have nothing to fear from you.
Storyteller: I no longer have to accept your empty words."
Storyteller: The fire control systems activate with a click, the water striking flame to create a billowing rush of steam. Golden Venna does not flinch from her position.
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Lissome Avid Engineer," Unerring Glory-Seeker says. "With your permission, I wish to take Golden Venna Boar Rider out of the lab. Anything else to learn from her people can be learned
Unerring Glory-Seeker: from other subjects, yes? I have need of her if we're to raid Gem for more Jade."
Storyteller: "Permission granted to you, Unerring Glory-Seeker."
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Golden Venna Boar Rider, I will take you from the lab and back into Creation. You have no need to stay here," Unerring Glory-Seeker says to her. "I hope this will do somewhat in restoring our alliance."
Storyteller: She grins. "You give up your advantage far too easily. I WILL go back to Creation. If you march on Gem, you will find us by your side. If you enter my land again without proper payment to me, your army will never know peace."
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "What proper payment do you seek?" Unerring Glory-Seeker asks, reasonably.
Storyteller: "I will be paid in full when I see the plumes of black smoke rise from the smoking corpse of Gem."
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "I will let your terms be known," Unerring Glory-Seeker says.
Storyteller: She's an easy one to figure out; her emotions billow on the surface of her skin like the flames that spill from her body. Revenge, destruction, glory, power; she desires all these things, and makes no attempt to hide it.
Storyteller: She begins to slink back towards the lift she came down on; the one that leads to Creation through Patropolis of Ot's head, dragging Engineer as she goes.
Storyteller: Engineer gives a little twitch as she deactivates some program, then says in the Autochthonian tongue, "If you wish, I can crush her in an instant, Glory-Seeker."
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "If you will let Lissome Avid Engineer go, we may leave this lab," she says.
Storyteller: Golden Venna raps her upside the head with a soft -clang-. "No! Flametongue, or you die!"
Storyteller: "I have no need for hostages. Show me how to leave this place, and I will release her."
Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-Seeker follows, her hand still far from the whip at her side, her eyes upon Golden Venna Boar Rider. She doesn't seem too uneasy though, confident even. "It is not necessary,
Unerring Glory-Seeker: Lissome Avid Engineer. I much prefer her alive."
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "May I return with you? To let the men on the other side no that you leave, not as an escapee but as a guest to our kind?"
Storyteller: She clicks, sizing you up; how easily could she slay you, now that she has expended so much essence in this display? Ah, but her way does not involve hesitation or doubt..."Okay."
Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-Seeker smiles and goes to the lift to leave with Golden Venna Boar Rider. . .hoping that things will move smoothly from this point out.
Storyteller: In a quick motion, she kicks Engineer across the room, sprinting, catlike, for the lift. Phantom flames still dance around her, but the heat is merely an illusion.
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Quite impressive display," Unerring Glory-Seeker comments.
Storyteller: "The Dragon-Blooded are the rulers of Creation. There are more like me," she says as a boast, "many more."
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Interesting," she says. She will have to speak to the others of these 'Dragon-Blooded'.
Storyteller: "Many are weak, though; sniveling thought-worshippers like your silver-haired torturer. Few truly feel the passion of battle within them. You will crush the weak easily."
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "With your inside information, I'm sure we will. We are but strangers to your world, still."
Storyteller: "You will make this world better, cleanse it and build it anew, if you focus your strength. Many factions war for control of the world."
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "We shall see," Unerring Glory-Seeker says. She very much wanted to speak to her team about the new developments.
Storyteller: The lift rises towards Creation; punching through the mists of Elsewhere.
Patropolis of Ot: YOUR SAFETY IS SECURE HERE IF YOU DESIRE I SHALL REMOVE THE FIRE-BEARER FROM YOU
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "I wish to escort her back to Creation, myself. And then I wish to meet with my team from three weeks ago."
Patropolis of Ot: THE TWICE-WOUND CLOCK OF THE HIGH HAND/THE SHADES OF SILVER: RENDEZVOUS WITH EXCESSIVELY RIGHTEOUS BLOSSOM *** THE HEARTLESS BLADE: CONFERENCE ROOM 5
Storyteller: Golden Venna shouts upward at the ceiling of the lift. "Shut up, SHUT UP!"
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "We will be out of here shortly," she says to Golden Venna Boar Rider calmly.
Storyteller: And with that, the doors slide open into the light of Creation.
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "That we meet again, on better terms, in Creation," she says to Golden Venna Boar Rider with a low bow of her head.
Storyteller: The troops keep a wary eye on her, a few of them with their crossbows at the ready, as she slinks back into the darkness of the forest.
Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-Seeker then seeks to meet with the team, having somewhat diffused that situation. Somewhat.

Storyteller: It's now three weeks after the fight with Golden Venna Boar Rider. Based on her information about a tribe to the south called Gem, the Moonsilver-caste Excessively Righteous Blossom was sent with a sizable force to attack Gem.
Storyteller: You two have been sent to meet with Excessively Righteous Blossom halfway between Gem and the gateway to Autochthon, to bring supplies to his weary troops after their success in battle.
Storyteller: You've arrived at the appointed time, however, and the Autochthonian forces are nowhere to be found.
Twice-Wound Clock: Twice Wound Clock of the High Hand pauses. "This was our awaited meeting point unless our readings have been scrambled by some unknown variable."
Shades of Silver: "Indeed, it is odd that one of ours would have less than perfect punctuality"
Shades of Silver: Shades Of Silver searches within 50 meters of the meeting place to ensure it wasn't a minor error that brought this misunderstanding to fruition.
Twice-Wound Clock: Adjusting his lance, he scans the area for any unusual elements, using it's extension to give him a better view of the region. "With my visual scans and your comprehensive, we should find them."
Shades of Silver: "Agreed. We should still make periodic returns to this place for a short while or leave a simple message for any of us to receive."
Storyteller: In the distance - maybe two miles away - a bright flare streaks into the sky, trailing green smoke - a distress signal.
Shades of Silver: Shades of Silver syncs with Twice-wound clock and departs with him toward the smoke.
Twice-Wound Clock: Slamming down upon the ground, Twice Wound Clock makes a fast whirring sound, keeping the same rapid pace of his companion.
Storyteller: You cover the distance in a little over five minutes, emerging out of the forest into the foothills on the other side.
Storyteller: And there, the body of Excessively Righteous Blossom lays, riddled with arrows.
Shades of Silver: "This does not bode well."
Twice-Wound Clock: "Be on high alert. His assailants might still be waiting to ambush us." A faint hum, and then his speed mode is switched seamlessly to stealth.
Shades of Silver: Shades of Silver readies his Chakram and begins to crawl along the ground to keep his presence to the absolute minimum.
Storyteller: Your senses do not detect movement nearby, save for the swaying of the trees and a faint heartbeat from Blossom. The ground is clear here, nowhere for anyone to hide.
Shades of Silver: Shades Of Silver makes his way over to Blossom and attempts to engage the possibly dying Moonsilver to find out what fate befell him.
Twice-Wound Clock: Twice Wound Clock pulls back, circling the area. He scans the skies, creeping about like a silver flash as a soft mechanical noise indicates a syringe has been expelled from his arm.
Storyteller: The skies are filled with clouds, and a golden, flaming orb. Neither one appears to be an immediate threat. The airborne winged organic life seems troubling, but they don't seem to notice you at all.
Twice-Wound Clock: He slinks back to Shade’s position, keeping his lance low. "What have you discovered?"
Shades of Silver: "Blossom, respond." Shades says once he is close enough to the fallen.
Shades of Silver: He turns to Twice Wound Clock, "Our heavily wounded comrade has yet to utter a word."
Storyteller: He seems too weak to move his head, but simply responds eloquently into the mud. "Excessively Righteous Blossom reporting. Our unit has been completely disbanded; prisoners have been taken by the tribe of Gem."
Storyteller: "The operation was a complete failure."
Shades of Silver: "What happened, full report while you function."
Shades of Silver: "Clock, see what you can do for our comrade while he reports."
Twice-Wound Clock: Cocking his head, Twice Wound Clock circles Blossom, fetching an arrow from the ground. "These tiny sticks inflict such wounds?" He ponders this for a moment, before cycling through liquids in his syringe.
Shades of Silver: "It is a curiosity, when considered in full. I do wonder how though. Take one for study perhaps that will for it to yield its secrets"
Storyteller: "Our units marched upon the walls of Gem through use of the shortest manner our drones identified; a connecting feature of the terrain apparently designed to bring water to the tribe's city."
Storyteller: "We moved using a standard A covering B advancement to avoid ambushes from ahead and behind.
Storyteller: However, the troops of Gem did not use the connecting terrain, but instead used crude bows to assault us while we were trapped in the tube."
Twice-Wound Clock: He clicks. "Underestimation of the enemy. The most direct route is not the most strategically sound. Will be factored into next attack."
Storyteller: "They were absolutely everywhere. We retreated and encountered more. Our supply lines were cut instantly. I have never seen such warfare."
Shades of Silver: "The water way presents many uses in the form of espionage, but not so much for direct assaults."
Shades of Silver: "How long ago was this? How long have you been here?"
Storyteller: "Only hours ago did we engage the enemy. The battle was over in seventeen minutes, twenty-five seconds."
Twice-Wound Clock: "Remarkable. Our enemies tactics will be reverse engineered into a powerful weapon. Query - did the Gem tribe act with knowledge of our movements? Could we have been infiltrated?”
Storyteller: "I do not believe so, the slaughter was absolute. I fear, however, that we may be...predictable. These foes do not follow Autochthonian tactics, and we must learn to counter their erratic movements."
Storyteller: "I must return to the Vats to heal. Learn from my failure; crush Gem."
Shades of Silver: "We shall. We have allies that will prove useful in this conflict"
Shades of Silver: "Clock, how safe is he to move?"
Twice-Wound Clock: Twice Wound Clock makes a frustrated grinding sound. "Unfortunate, we have been fighting the same battles for many years. But yes, you must return to safety. You have done well Excessively Righteous Blossom."
Shades of Silver: "Care to aid me? we have cover ground better working together as always."
Shades of Silver: Shades gets up and walks over to Blossom and begins to pick up the fellow Moonsilver for the trek back to their haven.
Twice-Wound Clock: "Affirmative. Collectively, we will find victory. Commence lift and transport." And he does so, giving a respectful bob of his head in Shades of Silver's direction.
Shades of Silver: "Mistakes are the seeds of wisdom. You did well."
Storyteller: You find no signs of any other survivors as you return Blossom to Autochthon; it seems like he walked the last twenty miles, at least, injured and alone.

Storyteller: As mentioned, it has been three weeks, and much has gone on with the war effort without your direct involvement.
Storyteller: You've been called to a conference room to meet with a 'guest' of Patropolis of Ot. For some reason, Ot specifically requested a Soulsteel Caste - surprising, since you're not diplomats or translators or such.
The Heartless Blade: *enters conference room*
Storyteller: Sitting at a table is a massive figure. You've seen Alchemicals grow this big, but he does not seem to be one. He relaxes, calm at the end of the room, a suit of black steel and Soulsteel armor, over fifteen feet tall.
The Heartless Blade: "Greetings."
The Heartless Blade: "I was told to report here."
Storyteller: Behind this figure, a golden gem looms, hanging from the ceiling; one of the eyes of Patropolis of Ot.
The Heartless Blade: *passively scans the room for memory purposes*
Storyteller: The figure rises to his full height. "Greetings," he says in a raspy voice. "I am called The Pallbearer of the Iron Casket." His armor is done in motifs of death, and his name is ominous.
Storyteller: However, your culture has no graveyards, no piles of bone, so the death-imagery of Creation is entirely meaningless and doesn't bother you any.
The Heartless Blade: *bows*
The Heartless Blade: "I am the Heartless Blade."
Storyteller: Patropolis of Ot's voice cuts in, softer than usual. "This man and I have spoken much to each other. He is knowledgeable of Creation, but wishes to aid our endeavors against it."
Storyteller: The grand armor bows humbly. "I am a servant with many masters, and I would be honored to count you among them."
The Heartless Blade: "Then we shall accept your help."
Storyteller: "I ask for only the simplest things in return; things which you would have done anyway."
The Heartless Blade: "Oh, Patropolis of Ot, what is your order?"
The Heartless Blade: "Sorry, what would that be you require?"
Patropolis of Ot: "Pallbearer of the Iron Casket has earned my trust. He has shown me his soul. Lissome Avid Engineer is in error; there are creatures of Creation with souls, and they will be our allies."
The Heartless Blade: "Understood."
Storyteller: Pallbearer responds, "I have no love for the creatures of Creation. I wish to see the streets of Gem run red with blood; their statues toppled and their men slain, so that a new city can be risen in your name."
The Heartless Blade: "This is good. We were planning on taking the town for resources."
Storyteller: "This is as Patropolis of Ot has told me. But Gem is in no state of weakness. I will teach you to turn their weapons against them; to send their walls tumbling in a shower of flame."
The Heartless Blade: "Very good."
Storyteller: The monstrosity of iron and soulsteel nods. "Patropolis of Ot has been kind enough to furnish quarters for me and to show me your cities. I will wait for you until you summon me. I am your loyal advisor."
The Heartless Blade: "Understood. I may call for you to come with us soon, should we return to creation."
Storyteller: "This is my sincere hope. You are the glorious cleansers we have long waited for."
The Heartless Blade: *bows and walks out*
The Heartless Blade: *charges back to Creation to track down the team*

Beri

07-12-2005, 01:37 AM

Storyteller: Unerring Glory-Seeker, as you watch Golden Venna Boar Rider disappear into the darkness, you become aware of another sound - very quiet, but a slight rustling of leaves.
Storyteller: Suddenly, Twice-Wound Clock and Shades of Silver burst from the underbrush, carrying a wounded Moonsilver general between them - Excessively Righteous Blossom.
Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-Seeker blinks, looking to them and waiting for them to explain.
Shades of Silver: Shades of Silver bobs his head as a bow To Unerring Glory-Seeker. "It is unexpected to see you here."
Storyteller: And to further distract your attention, Patropolis of Ot is making the telltale humming sound he makes whenever someone is using a lift to enter Creation.
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "I was returning our 'guest' Golden Venna Boar Rider from her ill-treatment at the hands of Lissome Avid Engineer before she destroyed all of Lissome's lab." Unerring Glory-Seeker now looks to Ot's lift.
Shades of Silver: "We are returning from an attempt to contact our force that went to the village of Gem."
Storyteller: The beautifully wrought golden doors slide open, revealing everyone's buddy, The Heartless Blade.
The Heartless Blade: *walks up*
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Then we have much to speak on, and it seems we are all here. Where shall we adjourn?" Unerring Glory-Seeker says.
The Heartless Blade: "Reporting as ordered."
The Heartless Blade: "I was in Conference room 5 waiting for you."
Twice-Wound Clock: Helping the general to the lift with Shades of Silver's aid, Twice Wound Clock intones, "Excessively Righteous Blossom forces were neutralized. We need to form a new strategy to collect Jade from the Gem tribe."
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Then we shall, let’s return to the conference them and confer."
The Heartless Blade: "Agreed."
Shades of Silver: "We shall join you shortly, after attending to Excessively Righteous Blossom"
Twice-Wound Clock: "As you command. A short detour to the Vats, and we shall meet with you with all due haste."
The Heartless Blade: *returns to lift and Confrence Room 5*
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "It would be nice to hear what he has to say about his failure," Unerring Glory-Seeker says, not meaning to say he was a failure, but simply that his mission had failed. He returns with Blade.
Storyteller: It is as you say. The engineers at the vats take Blossom off your hands, saying he was due for an upgrade and Charm installment anyway.
Storyteller: You meet shortly in Conference Room 5 within Patropolis of Ot, the air feeling slightly chilled and tense as each of you prepares to present your information.
The Heartless Blade: "What have we learned from Boar Rider?”
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "We now have these, that Lissome Avid Engineer has made," she says, taking out enough small disks for each of them to attach to their wrists. "It works to translate Golden Venna Boar Rider's Flametongue so we may
Unerring Glory-Seeker: understand her people.'"
The Heartless Blade: *reaches out and inserts it in wrist*
Twice-Wound Clock: Does likewise, snapping it in place with a sharp nod.
Shades of Silver: Inserts into wrist, "Very useful for any future recon for Clock and I, information options now fully aviable."
Storyteller: It feels like nothing at all, but over the course of a few minutes, you begin to feel another language just behind your usual one - as if you could slip into it with a thought.
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "She did exhibit some unexpected ability today, in Lissome's lab," Unerring Glory-Seeker adds. "I did not expect it."
The Heartless Blade: "I did notice she was registering at high temperatures in our last encounter."
Twice-Wound Clock: Cocking his head, Twice Wound Clock says, "Please explain phenomena."
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Quite simply: she burst into flame," Unerring Glory-Seeker says. "And apparently she's not the only creature able to do thus. What do we know of the Dragon-Blooded?"
Storyteller: Unfortunately, the answer is zero. The idea of Creation-Alchemicals...Creation-Exalted is something you hadn't predicted, and is entirely unexpected, especially after Engineer's analysis that these creatures lack souls.
The Heartless Blade: "This is of no matter. We now have another creature from Creation willing to help and aid us."
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Explain."
The Heartless Blade: “Pallbearer of the Iron Casket."
Storyteller: The voice of Patropolis of Ot cuts in, softly, emanating from a golden orb hanging at one side of the room. "Soldiers are gathering to prepare to assault Gem.
Storyteller: Yugash has given you a greater force than Excessively Righteous Blossom; we do not expect to be met with failure a second time. They will wait for you in Creation."
The Heartless Blade: "He claims that he and others have been waiting for us."
Twice-Wound Clock: This news results in a particularly uncomfortable tilting of Twice Wound Clock's neck. "Waiting?"
The Heartless Blade: "That we are the "cleansing element" they wait for."
The Heartless Blade: "All he wants is for us to take the town of Gem as we already planned."
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "What does he stand to gain from such an action?"
The Heartless Blade: "And he has knowledge of how to take down the towns defenses."
Shades of Silver: "Does he or another have potential strategies we might be able to incorporate into the next assault on Gem?"
The Heartless Blade: "He simply seems to dislike this world."
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Hmm," Unerring Glory-Seeker says to herself, wary of this Pallbearer of the Iron Casket. "We also have the aid of Golden Venna Boar Rider's people. I see her reasoning to help, but I'm wary of this new one."
The Heartless Blade: "It is the will of Patropolis of Ot that we move on Gem."
The Heartless Blade: "Since this will be our action regardless, why not summon our allies and go?"
Twice-Wound Clock: "Be wary of all those that promise aid, but use them nevertheless. We must be cautious in this assault however, as our superiors will not tolerate a repeat." Twice Wound Clock clicks, almost nervously.
The Heartless Blade: "Patropolis has talked with him first."
The Heartless Blade: "He has confirmed him as an ally."
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "What went wrong the first time?"
The Heartless Blade: "Further there are creatures with souls"
Shades of Silver: Shades Of Silver too seems nervous at Clock's mention of a potential second failure.
Twice-Wound Clock: Awaits the Heartless Blades mention of creatures with souls, and prepares a response about the previous assaults failure.
The Heartless Blade: "Patropolis of Ot has earned a trust with Pallbearer."
Shades of Silver: "As to what went wrong the first time, Twice Wound Clock and I can provide the answer. Any further data from either of you prior to our beginning an explanation?"
The Heartless Blade: "Agreed, let us plan our assault."
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "I have nothing else to add until I hear the details of the first assault."
Twice-Wound Clock: "Query - what of the creatures with souls?"
The Heartless Blade: "Pallbearer has a soul."
Twice-Wound Clock: "Did this individual know of other sources of souls we might harvest for Autochthon?"
The Heartless Blade: "None mentioned, but we may ask him."
The Heartless Blade: "He has taken residence here."
Storyteller: "He bared his soul to me," says Patropolis of Ot, "and the patterns of his essence, created through desires and dreams. His requests of us are true, and through those his soul is again reflected."
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Where is he from? What are his people called?"
The Heartless Blade: "Unknown."
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Well, I hope we can find out soon enough. Now, what of the first assault on Gem?"
Shades of Silver: "The first assault was done according to drone's scans which indicated that using a connection feature which brought the town water to be the best route in. The squads advanced as per norm. However, the attacking troops ...
Shades of Silver: didn't behave as predicted. The assaulted from both sides and cut off the retreat. Blossom fears that our tactics were too predictable. There was no indication of an insider among the squads."
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "What is the proposed tactic for a second attack?"
Twice-Wound Clock: Twice Wound Clock turns to the Heartless Blade. "Our ally you speak of made mention of defenses, but in general we must not approach this like a typical raid...
Twice-Wound Clock: ...These creatures do not function as we do. We must learn to think like them."
Shades of Silver: "These creatures don't use our tactics, theirs seem erratic."
The Heartless Blade: "Perhaps we shall use our new ally to help us adjust our strategies."
Twice-Wound Clock: "That is a most excellent plan."
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Very well."
The Heartless Blade: *turns and heads for the Pallbearer’s room*
Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-Seeker follows.
Twice-Wound Clock: Twice Wound Clock follows with a purposeful stride.
Storyteller: Patropolis of Ot has placed him not far down the hallway. The doors slide open and you enter. Pallbearer of the Iron Casket sets down an oversized teacup, rising to his full height.
The Heartless Blade: "Pallbearer of the Iron Casket."
Shades of Silver: Shades of Silver glides along with the rest
The Heartless Blade: "We shall require assistance in planning our assault."
Storyteller: He is not human like the others you've seen in Creation, but a fifteen-foot tall armored monstrosity of black iron and soulsteel, nearly as wide as the Autochthonian streets.
Storyteller: "Of course, I've been expecting you. Patropolis of Ot has informed me of the failure of Excessively Righteous Blossom."
Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-Seeker observes Pallbearer of the Iron Casket.
Twice-Wound Clock: Studying the figure before him, he traces the similarities between Pallbearer of the Iron Casket and The Heartless Blade.
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "What do you propose to make the next attempt a success?"
Storyteller: He sets out a lukewarm liquid for each of you, a brownish, bitter water he seems to enjoy. He begins to explain what went wrong with Blossom.
Storyteller: Blossom used Autochthonian tactics - march to your enemy's weak point and engage them directly there. He did not expect watchtowers, which allowed the defenders of Gem to observe his troop movements from as far as ten miles out.
Storyteller: He allowed himself to be funneled into a canyon, where the defenders of Gem rained arrows down upon them without any chance of retaliation.
Storyteller: Creation is aware of their invasion, he says, but they do not know you, and they fear what they do not understand. Your advance has been dubbed "The Locust Crusade," after an insect that eats everything in its path.
Storyteller: Gem is aware that it is targeted, and brings massive weaponry to bear - Essence Cannons, which will be able to rain fire down upon your troops from an unstoppable distance.
Storyteller: However, these cannons can be sabotaged by a stealthy advance party, causing them to explode tremendously if Gem attempts to fire them.
Storyteller: Gem will use open field tactics. Pallbearer discusses how to stagger crossbow lines to deliver a constant stream of fire,
Storyteller: and mentions they will have no way to defend from an aerial assault, such as a dirigible or flying Autochthonian.
Storyteller: He also mentions that the citizens of Creation do not truly believe in their duties the way Autochthonians do; they can be demoralized.
Storyteller: Your ultimate target there is the leader of Gem, Despot Rankar VII.
Storyteller: And there, pretty much, is how you have it; the downfall of Gem in a nutshell. He sips his tea.
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "How did your knowledge of Gem and their fighting tactics come about?" Unerring Glory-Seeker asks. . . trying to sound merely curious and not suspicious at all.
Storyteller: "I have been watching Gem from the shadows for a long time, but I am only one man, unable to rally a force of the required size."
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Why were you watching? Where are you from?"
Storyteller: "I consider you Autochthonians allies and friends, and as such, I do not wish to hold any information from you. I serve another master, but one whose interests are in line with your own. He has long sought to see Gem fall."
Storyteller: "Much as you do, we have gods we worship; masters to which we must bring back resources and gifts. The fall of Gem is our gift to them, and the resources of Gem shall be our gift to you."
Unerring Glory-Seeker: "Very well. Let us lay our plans and make our attack," Unerring Glory-Seeker says. Satisfied with that response for now.
Storyteller: With that, rather than going over the plan in detail, we simply jump to the battlefields of the South, the fields of Gem. It is now four days later.
Storyteller: Gem is massive, larger than you imagined, slightly larger than a good-sized Autochthonian city. It is built into the side of a volcano, and glimmers in the twilight -
Storyteller: a glimmer, Pallbearer has pointed out, which is thousands of gems, waiting to be harvested. He promises some of the Magical Materials are there in great quantity, as well.
Storyteller: Each of you commands a unit of Autochthonian troops, however many you want. Several other Alchemicals also lead squadrons, and nearly every able-bodied soldier in Yugash has been rallied - a number exceeding 30,000.
The Heartless Blade: "scouts should be in the strike force to take out the cannons"
Storyteller: Simply describe to me your units, how they're laid out, what actions you're taking, etc. We can focus on one group at a time, or run the whole battle at once.
Shades of Silver: "Acknowledged."
Twice-Wound Clock: Twice Wound Clock agrees. "While such an operation is in progress, aerial attacks should be made as a divergence."
Storyteller: The army of Gem is waiting for you, as your main force would have no way to hide it's advance; less than 5000 units in the field, and perhaps another 1000 manning the weapons of the city's walls. You outnumber them at least 5 to 1.
Storyteller: However, Excessively Righteous Blossom's group was over ten times as large as the unit that destroyed it, yet was still slaughtered.
Storyteller: The Twice-Wound Clock would make the first move, his units armed with hovering platforms. The idea of aerial combat is new to the Autochthonians, but they have adapted quickly,
Storyteller: producing over three dozen high-speed aerial assault vehicles loaded with incendiary explosives.
Storyteller: The remainder of the force is on slower platforms, unstable, commonly used for maintenance, but still able to hover above a normal bow's range.
Storyteller: Your forces are arrayed on the foothills outside of Gem, just beyond where their watchtowers should be able to spy you, and still a good 10-15 mile march to the city.
Shades of Silver: "Ready to commence on your command Twice-Wound Clock."

Beri

07-12-2005, 01:40 AM

Twice-Wound Clock: The silence is overwhelming. But Twice Wound Clock of the High Hand loves it, thrives off it, as his quick flying platforms soar high into the air, using the cloud cover to hide their positions.
Twice-Wound Clock: They dart into place, above the walls and watchtowers, ready for the signal. And there it is, a lance swishing down to point at the main gate. And the barrage starts.
Storyteller: The units of Gem counterattack; their methods are slow and more designed to drive off flocks of birds than shoot down attackers.
Storyteller: A flurry of rockets streaks past your men with abysmal accuracy, but sheer probability claims it's toll, and four of your platforms burst into black smoke, throwing their riders screaming 500 feet to the ground below.
Twice-Wound Clock: The platforms soon rise back high into the sky, trying to minimize their losses. The silence is now broken.
Twice-Wound Clock: Twice Wound Clock of the High Hand signals to Shades of Silver where his men have spotted the targets, and prepares to send another barrage down.
Storyteller: Their attention is well-diverted; men are shouting and screaming, abandoning the essence cannons in favor of fireworks and rockets pulled out of storage.
Shades of Silver: Shades of Silver begins his advance on the city, his team acting the role of the serpent in the grass, unseen yet ultimately deadly when its teeth sink into the tender flesh of the exposed foot
Shades of Silver: As a whole they move to the indicated point of entry by Twice-Wound Clock and slip into the city. Shades deploys his gyroscopic chakram and the fighters draw their swords in case of trouble. The team moves as a whole, making their
Storyteller: The journey to the cannons will be long, forcing you to cross many streets to reach their stations at the top of the wall.
Storyteller: The Pallbearer has taught you a simple trick; reversing their delicate storage batteries to explosive results.
Shades of Silver: way systematically to each cannon with utter care a stealth
Storyteller: You find trouble, but trouble doesn't find you. You come up behind a guard patrol, keeping their eyes open for intruders and saboteurs - but unaware of you yet.
Shades of Silver: The fighters and Shades sneak up behind them and in the swift silence of a snake's strike fall upon the patrol from the rear. A silent death for each.
Storyteller: They fail to even squeak.
Shades of Silver: They reverse the batteries as the come to the cannons, leaving all those around them as intact as possible, only those patrols who cross their path meet an unfortunate fate if they lay in the way of the next cannon
Storyteller: Each panel on each essence cannon opens with a creak and a burst of rust. These haven't been opened for decades, maybe centuries...it's doubtful that the soldiers of Gem even know what's inside.
Shades of Silver: A few of the saboteurs work on the reversing the battery while the fighters attend to any attention that is drawn to their activites.
Storyteller: In time, you do garner a crowd. The fighters draw off their defenses - making it seem like you're there to cause havoc, rather than engineer a careful sabotage.
Storyteller: Twice-Wound Clock does his part to aid you, sending explosives to disrupt large units of men before they overwhelm your position.
Storyteller: In a matter of minutes, you've done all you can, followed Pallbearer of the Iron Casket's instructions perfectly.
Shades of Silver: Shades Of Silver stands at the last essence Cannon and lets out the call, the recorded shriek of 10,000 locusts, to signal their completion.
The Heartless Blade: *scans walls for weakest point to attack*
The Heartless Blade: *while beginning an overwhelming charge of men forward*
Storyteller: The walls are specifically created to withstand assault, but they do have their weaknesses - the main gate is wood, very sturdy wood, but wood nonetheless.
Storyteller: It's also well-defended. Your scans also indicate that attacking about an eighth of a mile east of the main gate may hit a stress fracture there.
Storyteller: Your units rush onto the field, maintaining a steady pace to cover the distance to Gem with minimum exertion.
The Heartless Blade: *checks with Pallbearer as he charges the main gate to clear the troops around it*
Storyteller: Atop the ramparts, archers slip arrows to their bows, while Gem's dozen Essence Cannons train on the main mass of your force. Their barrels are nearly as wide as your torso; you hope Pallbearer wasn't mistaken or lying.
Storyteller: Gem's units rush forth as well under the banner of the despot, crashing into your front line with such force that several men in the back line are thrown off their feet.
Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-Seeker prepares her unit with talk of . . well, glory that is to be found in battle sending them all into the fray
Unerring Glory-Seeker: at the sound of 10,000 locusts. They attack the stress fracture to the east of the main gate . . . hoping to gain two entry points into the city.
Storyteller: Gem has the advantage - they are well-drilled and used to open field fighting. Your Exaltation allows you to toss men aside like chaff -
Storyteller: until your blade bounces, with a shower of sparks, off the Jade armor of one of Gem's Dragon-Blooded lieutenants.
The Heartless Blade: *calls for demolition team at the gates*
Storyteller: Unerring Glory-Seeker, you have used your natural leadership skill to impart a year's worth of training into four days; your units engage Gem on a more even field.
Storyteller: A general in the back line raises his hand - and thrusts towards you.
Storyteller: On his command, the Essence Cannons unleash their barrage.
Storyteller: The wrong way.
Storyteller: The spectacle is, overall, rather plebian. There is a momentary flash, a soft -foof- sound, and the front wall of Gem is simply gone.
Storyteller: Men are curious creatures, and even those currently engaged in battle are unable to resist turning around and staring, agape, at the wreckage of their city's defensive lines.
The Heartless Blade: *slashes the heads off the first troopmen he finds and begins hitting them into the city with his free fist*
Storyteller: The Autochthonian troops are likewise stunned, but their arc protectors better enable them to recover and slay three hundred men before Gem regroups.
Storyteller: The Heartless Blade has mastered the art of demoralization. What man can fight when the torso of a squad leader sails over his head, spattering him with blood and whatever the poor sap had for lunch?
Storyteller: More troops spill out from the city, though - and at the heart of the chaos lies the palace of despot Rankar VII.
Storyteller: Their troops are ill-equipped to stop Unerring Glory-Seeker as her thousands of men punch through Gem's lines. She personally detonates the eastern wall, opening a smoking hole in their defenses the size of a house.
Storyteller: The flying assault units of Twice-Wound Clock seal themselves into their cabins, their assistants welding the plastisteel shut. They will either fly home in glory, or they will die in flames.
The Heartless Blade: *stabs his blade through a nearby soldier and throws his entrails over the wrecked walls*
The Heartless Blade: "RAGHHHHHHH!!!!"
Twice-Wound Clock: Twice Wound Clock stays in communication with Shades of Silver, motioning to where...
Twice-Wound Clock: The rockets for anti-aerial assault are located, and in turn launching discrete 'off target' explosions at those in the stealth-users' way.
Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-Seeker enters along with her troops, wielding her whip. She swings it over her head to gain momentum before thrusting the electrically charged chain into the waiting Gem combatants.
Unerring Glory-Seeker: Her focus is making her way to the palace and getting rid of this monarch.
Shades of Silver: The small group makes it ways as it best can through the chaos, striking with precision at the points, opening the city's defenses by a few more measures each time
The Heartless Blade: *begins charge toward the palace swinging his cutlass in spinning arcs at head height*
Storyteller: Pallbearer of the Iron Casket battles reluctantly. He allows your unit to do the most of the fighting, but at one point an errant Dragon-Blood comes too close, and he neatly bisects it with an eight-food sword.
Storyteller: Shades of Silver is the enemy within. Gem attempts to regroup, to gain strength, but every time, there is a soft whirring, and their leader's head disappears.
Storyteller: Unerring Glory-Seeker wades into the carnage...but discovers she has penetrated a residential area. The streets here are filled with families and children...
Storyteller: and even they have picked up arms, sticks and old swords to defend their city.
Shades of Silver: Only to reappear on top of the nearest building
Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-Seeker frowns. This was not what she was expecting. She orders a majority of her unit to work on capturing these people for souls if possible and taking a smaller contingency toward the Palace for the real battle.
Storyteller: Captives are taken, hundreds of them.
The Heartless Blade: *slashes several soldiers in half, and throws the spraying body parts to the walls of the palace*
Storyteller: The forces are stronger here; The Heartless Blade, at one point, must duel with three Dragon-Bloods at once, which takes several minutes. Still, they look so pretty on the walls.
The Heartless Blade: *removes the front part of a dragon bloods head with his beam saber*
The Heartless Blade: *and wears it on his shoulder*
Shades of Silver: Shades walks the rooftops. After many strikes against smaller units, he contacts his fellow Alchemicals to get status reports and see if his unit could be used elsewhere with the number of turrets and smaller squads declining.
Storyteller: Gem is fighting a losing battle. They know they are, and many simply abandon the field of battle. The only remainder focuses on getting Rankar VII out of here alive,
Storyteller: surrounding him with nearly four hundred troops and dashing up the steep roads towards the volcano.
Twice-Wound Clock: With the surrounding chaos, Twice Wound Clock of the High Hand decides to unleash the majority of his force.
Twice-Wound Clock: Having the large, clunky battle platforms hover over the wall, he has it raise up to meet those guarding the way towards the leader.
Twice-Wound Clock: From behind.
Storyteller: They stop, their way obviously blocked by the terrible sound of the fan blades keeping your craft aloft, and circle around, forming a loose formation of spears upon spears.
The Heartless Blade: *charges the guards around Rankar*
The Heartless Blade: "ARRRGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!"
Storyteller: The Pallbearer joins the battle in greater earnest now. You two use your enormous blades to great effect, peeling layers of guards off the center like an onion.
Shades of Silver: Shades of Silver has his unit work along the sides of the mountain to flank from the sides. Shades holds in his free hand, the head of the last leader he took.
The Heartless Blade: *swings cutlass low and runs forward arcing it through the front lines*
The Heartless Blade: *grabs soldier and tears him apart over his head*
The Heartless Blade: *blood pours out every where*
Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-Seeker attacks from the front along side Pallbearer and Blade, her whip whizzing through the air with a hum of electricity as she removes the soldiers from her path. She strikes high sometimes,
Unerring Glory-Seeker: for the neck and shoulders. Sometimes she strikes low, pulling legs out from under bodies and tumbling them to the ground.
Storyteller: A great gash is torn open, Rankar cowering in the center, exposed. His guard panics and flees.
The Heartless Blade: *charges Rankar blade at the side and ready*
Shades of Silver: Shades throws the head into the ranks, aimed at Rankar. His chakram lashing out from his side.
Twice-Wound Clock: Twice-Wound Clock of the High Hand, for the first time in the combat, launches himself off his flying platform, intercepting the fleeing guards and sending them with one harsh swing to plummet to their doom below.
Unerring Glory-Seeker: Unerring Glory-Seeker looks to The Pallbearer . . . SURE that Rankar was being attacked.
Storyteller: Too many cooks spoil the broth...and too many Alchemicals make a mess.
Storyteller: The thrown Dragon-Blooded head strikes him in the back, pushing him forward into The Heartless Blade's heartless blade. Half his body pops up, a quick whizzing causing his head to tumble from his shoulders.
Storyteller: Unerring Glory-Seeker's whip brushes the fragments, setting them aflame with the powerful electrical current, and Twice-Wound Clock comes from above to spear the entire flaming corpse to the ground.
Shades of Silver: Shades hangs back, merely attending to the forces who flee.
Storyteller: Total time elapsed: 57 minutes. Gem is yours.
Storyteller: Survivors are led back to Autochthon in chains.
Storyteller: Within hours, the city is devoid of all non-Autochthonian life; only slowly dripping blood proves that the citizens of Gem ever existed.
Storyteller: You now possess a strongly defensible position, loaded with gems and magical materials, and have sent a strong message to this world that Autochthon is back.
Storyteller: Of course, the place would need a little work.
Storyteller: You four are appointed in charge of what is renamed into New Kadar, constructed on top of Gem's remains.
Storyteller: The Autochthonians still find all these open areas uncomfortable, so you begin converting the dried-out lava tubes of the mountain into living areas.
Storyteller: Once those are open, civilians begin pouring in, easing the resource strain on Autochthon while establishing a permanent foothold in Creation.
Storyteller: In a year, you are a city of 250,000 people.
Storyteller: Of course, the Autochthonians don't sit idly by the entire time; the Locust Crusade goes on.
Storyteller: Unhesitatingly Loyal Weapon and Lissome Avid Engineer have learned from the battle of Gem, and prepare troops to march north against The Lap.
Storyteller: Pallbearer of the Iron Casket remains like a moth to your flame; not a permanent resident, but always there when you need him, coming and going to spill the bloody secrets of Creation.
Storyteller: Golden Venna Boar Rider, you discover later, led her tribe to slay 150 troops of Gem who had tried to send word to the Realm. As for Golden Venna herself, you haven't seen her since.
Storyteller: The Locust Crusade is a success, but it is just beginning. The curtain closes on this act of the Autochthonians, with the Southwest having been crushed under their heel, and new horizons waiting for conquest.
Storyteller: And as we'll see next week, Gem is not the only city with chaos in the streets.
Storyteller: ----------

Beri

07-12-2005, 01:45 AM

And thus, my campaign becomes a true Exalted game, for Gem has been destroyed.

For those of you just joining us, this is an intermission for my normal Exalted: The Sidereals game. We're running short, two-session games over AIM, chronicling the development of Creation and the huge changes taking place. First up was Exalted: The Autochthonians, chronicling the Locust Crusade and the conquering of the Southwest. Next up is The Dragon-Blooded, and the Realm's swift decline into civil war.

YerMum

07-12-2005, 02:10 AM

cool :D

although I hope things go differently when the rest of the autochtonians turn up at the gates of our version of Gem - we've already killed one alchemical (and taken his stuff ;))

Beri

07-20-2005, 06:46 PM

Interlude 2: The Dragon-Blooded

Sidereal/Solar character - Dragon-Blooded character:
Rising Sun – Mnemon Oberon, Aspect of Earth
Celeste – Mnemon Veca, Aspect of Air
Fas’rial – Mnemon Haloki, Aspect of Wood
Kara – Mnemon Valora, Aspect of Fire
Gicer – Mnemon Filyza, Aspect of Water

Storyteller: --------------------
Storyteller: Family.
Storyteller: A word, a concept that has been responsible for untold bloodshed over the centuries.
Storyteller: Fairly meaningless, if you think about it. Why should I feel any loyalty toward another, because we share some blood, a common ancestor?
Storyteller: But the bonds of family are strong, and difficult to break.
Storyteller: Each of you values your surname highly. You are not 'a member born into House Mnemon', you are 'a Mnemon'. That means a lot. It means you're not a usurious Ragara, or a lustful Cynis.
Storyteller: Others in the Threshold might insult you, wonder why you put so much stock into such an invisible idea. But if they were where you are now, they would see why you're willing to put your life on the line for Mnemon...both the House, and your Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Grandmother.
Storyteller: It is now Realm Year 770, seven years since the disappearance of the Scarlet Empress, Mnemon's mother.
Storyteller: You sit in orderly pews with other members of your family, both Exalted and unExalted, in the temple attached to the Mnemon compound in the Imperial City.
Storyteller: It is a holy day, and many speeches are made by monks, priests, and your family elders, about the importance of loyalty and duty, the rightfulness of the Perfected Hierarchy, and the importance of being Exalted.
Storyteller: By far the most powerful speaker, however, is Mnemon herself. She speaks only for a few minutes, but declares that the Realm must unite, and speaks of how we can all emulate the stability of Pasiap.
Storyteller: Of course, unspoken is the fact that Mnemon intends, whole-heartedly, to fill that gap with herself.
Storyteller: The service ends, and you pour out of the temple, as a family. As Mnemon. Your relatives mingle about in the common room, exchanging gossip and small talk.
Storyteller: Mnemon herself disappears down a hallway filled with beautiful embroidered rugs, retreating to her personal chambers.
Storyteller: You have no time for small talk, as Mnemon has asked you to meet her in her private chambers, claiming that a matter of great import to the House has arisen.
Storyteller: Right now, you stand among the throng of your fellows outside of the temple, the five of you in a circle, wondering what Mnemon could want. And with that introduction done, it's all yours.
Oberon: "A fine service it was today, bringing a sense of family to us all," Oberon rumbles.
Valora: Mnemon Valora, dressed in a very well-to-do social-climber dress of scarlet and crimson, has her styled in a knot atop her head. Her hair is orange red at the roots and fading to a bright fiery red at the tips. "Indeed it was," she responds to Oberon's rumble.
Haloki: Haloki has a fervor in his eyes, a burning, that is very much unlike him. His robes, white with traces of wintergreen, stir with his anxiety.
Haloki: He speaks, rushed for a moment. "Yes yes... it was... pleasant. But there is something deeper. Yeesss.. Her vision. She will share it."
Haloki: By the end, calmness overcomes his features and his voice slows.
Oberon: Oberon's steely grey eyes look to others, his deep brown hair kept short. His traditional Mnemon clothes in pristine condition.
Veca: Veca, petite and with mousy brown hair mentions softly, "The importance was connection, above and beyond family. Making a family of the entire realm. Perhaps she'll have more to say on this when we meet her."
Storyteller: Your fellow Mnemons give polite greetings as they pass you, but don't waste too much time, heading onward to better political targets.
Oberon: "I pray that is the case, all should know our family and embrace it." he says with reverence in his voice.
Storyteller: In every corner of the grand antechambers, groups of Dynasts huddle and whisper. No doubt the fates of several lives have been decided today.
Haloki: Clearing his throat, he nods sharply. "The honor is immense. That she would discuss important business with us.." His usual relaxed demeanor returns, and he smiles.
Valora: Valora glances about, as if bored, noting which Dynasts are talking to which, before her attention returns to Haloki and smiling. "Very much so. I wait with bated breath for what she has to share."
Storyteller: The mass of Mnemons slowly begins losing people as Dynasts return to their homes. Most of the people remaining are of the major Mnemon bloodlines, circling each other as their own family.
Storyteller: Over there, you see Mnemon Caras, who has produced a great many Immaculate Monks. Over here, Mnemon Darow, leader of a long line of warriors and soldiers.
Storyteller: But most Mnemons don't belong to a great household line, and without the glue of Mnemon herself to hold them together, they fade into the streets and alleys of the Imperial City.
Haloki: Flicking his head, Haloki tosses his long and loose honeyed brown hair over his shoulder. He watches his family, and a glowing warmth floods his face.
Haloki: "We should not leave our Lady waiting." With a nervous gait, he begins to proceed in the direction of Mnemon's rooms.
Veca: Veca opens her mouth to say something, closes it and then follows Haloki
Valora: Valora follows afterward, folding her hands in front of her as she walks with confidence.
Oberon: Oberon moves with his companions.
Storyteller: Mnemon, naturally, has the finest, most massive room in the compound, dwarfing all others. Broad double doors enter into her study, which might not be what you expect.
Storyteller: For Mnemon does not live in the lap of luxury - she is constantly hard at work, researching, scheming, and playing political games.
Storyteller: She is surrounded by open books, half-finished rituals, and talismans, and currently stands next to an easel, a scroll stretched between two bars.
Storyteller: With a pen and blood-red ink, she makes notes of which passages in her short speech inspired the greatest loyalty. Even her religious praise has a very focused purpose.
Storyteller: As you enter, she turns to you. Her deep violet eyes blink once, with as much respect as a full-body bow from another would convey. She twists a strand of red hair out of her eyes, the motion surprisingly youthful - the act of a teenager, even though Mnemon appears 30 and is actually over 400.
Storyteller: "Please, sit," she commands. "And close the door behind you. I have a task which you are well suited for."
Valora: Valora politely sits, her hands still in her lap and her back straight. She sits at full attention to Mnemon.
Oberon: "As Milady commands" he says while giving the proper bow due to one of such high regard and takes his place among the seats, eyes focused on her.
Haloki: With a most gracious, formal bow, Haloki's beaming eyes are wide open. He rushes to fulfill Mnemon's order, sitting with a meditative stance.
Veca: Veca closes the doors before sitting, she blinks once in return to Mnemon. Veca's ears are open
Storyteller: "As a whole, you are youthful and eager, filled with promise as for what you might bring to the House." She leaves out 'expendable'. "The time has come to prove yourself."
Storyteller: She picks up a large envelope from her desk and slides it to Haloki.
Haloki: A deep breath is taken, before Haloki tenderly picks up what is provided. Barely restraining shaking, he opens the envelope, with a warm glance towards his companions.
Storyteller: Within are five invitations to a party being held by House Cynis in three days.
Haloki: These he spreads out before his friends, his family, with a loving touch. His eyes are then raised back to Mnemon.
Valora: Valora looks over the invitation handed to her, then back to Mnemon for more explanation.
Oberon: Oberon takes his invitation, and looks at Mnemon, his eyes shifting around to his family to see if his reaction is shared by all.
Veca: Veca waits to hear the rest of Mnemon's explanation. She holds the invitation, but does not look at it
Storyteller: "There is an assassination planned against me." She pauses for effect. "It will fail, of course. But that is insignificant."
Storyteller: "The conspirators have done well hiding their trail from my spies, and I fear the element of surprise might even allow them to enter my palace before they are crushed."
Storyteller: "And," she tsks, "it would not look good for the Realm's future Empress to evade assassination by only a slim margin."
Storyteller: "So I ask you to find the conspirators. Either eliminate them, or you have my leave to come up with a more embarrassing and painful plan."
Haloki: Haloki raises his hands, and lays them flat upon the table. With a hard look, he scans his fellow youthful Exalts, going one by one done the line. There is pride in this look, immense pride.
Valora: Valora's demeanor remains cool and calm, as if she were asked to thwart assassination plans all the time. She simply nods, acknowledging Mnemon's request, then looking to the others.
Oberon: Oberon's darting eyes calm and settle, mirroring Haloki's look. His face cracks a jagged smile at the thought of serving such a role.
Veca: "Request to both humiliate and kill the assassins, m'lady." Veca's face registers no emotion.
Storyteller: Mnemon shrugs. "Enjoy yourself."
Storyteller: "They will be there," she smirks. "They know they will die, and right now, they are telling themselves they deserve one last pleasure, one last lusty conquest. They will seek out House Cynis with hungry eyes."
Veca: Veca's face cracks into an eerie smile.
Haloki: Haloki could hardly restrain his giddyness, and Veca's comment brought both his hands into fists. "We will not fail you Milady."
Valora: "Thank you for this honor," Valora says.
Oberon: "It shall be done as Milady commands" rumbles Oberon with pride.
Storyteller: "I have the utmost faith in you. Now be off. I have no time for rest and idle chatter."
Valora: Valora stands with a bow of her head, and readies to leave with the others.
Haloki: Haloki stood, much too quickly. The blood rushed to his head, but it just added to the euphoria of the moment. He slipped an invitation into the folds of his robes, and opened the door for his companions.
Veca: Veca stands and leaves with the others
Oberon: Oberon moved with long strides, but waited for everyone else before moving beyond Haloki.
Haloki: With one last, longing look, that of a man looking upon the face of his god, he closed the door and clasped his hands together. "Brother, sisters.." he began, "This is the start of something far beyond ourselves."
Oberon: He simply nodded in agreement, looking the invitation over carefully.
Storyteller: The invitations are a luscious shade of pink, sealed with a glittering dust. Within, a pair of dragons copulate as they twist around a rose, with the words "Do join us, Mnemon Oberon." Likewise for the others.
Valora: Valora holds her own invitation in hand, her other hand grasping her forearm or the former.
Storyteller: And the location, date, time, and dress code, as well. The dress code is a masquerade - although with House Cynis, it's pretty sure that some of them will come in a mask...and little else.
Veca: "Well then, how shall we begin looking for these murderers?" Veca asks, pocketing her invitation.
Haloki: Haloki frowned as he glanced over his invitation. "The savages.." he began with lightly disguised scorn. "We will have to use subterfuge, to act like these heathens, if we are to discover the plot."
Oberon: "I hate to debase myself for this, to give up the fine traditions of this house for another, but if that be the case, then so be it." He visibly shook at the mention of the other house.
Storyteller: It's not like it's too much beyond the norm. Certainly you've dabbled in drugs, whores, and orgies. The other Houses just tend not to make a party out of it.
Oberon: "Shall we go and get our mask out of storage?"
Valora: Valora smiles, tilting her head to the side. "One should never leave their masks in storage," she says with a small laugh.
Veca: Veca shrugs, "Mine's hanging on the wall over the fireplace. Do you think we can succesfully interview everyone at the party in time to grab the assassins?"
Storyteller: Haloki, the envelope had five invitations, including one for Mnemon Filyza, who couldn't make it today. Currently he's over at the home of Peleps Lonpan, participating in a minor wrestling tournament.
Haloki: Haloki had grabbed the extra invitation, of course. "We may not need to, if our senses are properly trained. A careful ear, and an eye for suspicious activity is all we need."
Valora: "I agree."
Haloki: "One of our brothers, ignorant of the honor he was to miss, will need to be alerted of this duty. As I am in need of proper attire for the masquerade, perhaps someone else may deliver the invitation?"
Oberon: "It wouldn't be a problem. I am curious to see what I can of his doings."
Haloki: Bobbing his head, Haloki provides the invitation, with a brief set of directions as to where to go. "And Veca, Valora. I do have a favor to ask."
Haloki: "Might you.. instruct me.. in which manner of dress would be appropriate for such an occasion? I am a stranger to shopping for such things."
Veca: Veca raises an eyebrow and looks to Valora before looking back to Haloki. "I-I-I-I am not one for fashion. Valora may be better at this than I am." Veca's face turns a lovely cherry color
Valora: Valora laughs at Haloki's confession, smiling good-heartedly. "It won't be a problem! That is one thing I do well, and I feel I shall excell at the fete."
Oberon: Oberon sets off at a trot, chuckling hearing the discussion between the circle, to bring this news to their wayward brother.
Haloki: The uncomfortability passed, Haloki smiles. "Most excellent. Well, let us attend to our preparations then. Shall we plan ahead for the occasion, or simply dive into the... fun." He sneers a bit at that.

Storyteller: Martial arts are naturally popular on the Blessed Isle. Often, the Immaculate Monks gather to give displays of their prowess, moving with elegant, essence-sculpted lines as they spar.
Storyteller: The fight which Mnemon Filyza is currently engaged in is not one of these.
Storyteller: At the home of Peleps Lonpan, there is a beautiful table, carved over the course of several months by a team of five mortal craftsmen. It depicts the Five Dragons, triumphant over the Anathema.
Storyteller: Peleps Hituo just put Filyza's head through it.
Filyza: *swirls around on the floor and rolls up and lunges at Hituo*
Filyza: Filyza's arms pour down over the Peleps’s neck as he jumps over and lands behind him.
Filyza: “NOW!!!! PREPARE TO SUBMIT!!!!!”
Storyteller: Hituo laughs as you come back up at him, his retreating footsteps splashing as your water animas mingle. "Ha! Bring it, Filyza!"
Storyteller: On the sidelines, a dozen Peleps watch, along with a few representatives from each other Great House.
Storyteller: Hituo crouches low, then comes up toward your chin to deliver a crushing elbow blow.
Filyza: *flips back in a fluid arc and kicks Hituo in the chin*
Filyza: Filyza then jumps to a still standing leg of the smashed table.
Storyteller: Hituo staggers back, bracing himself against a fine chair - then hefting it and hurling it at you, along with a cheer from the crowd.
Filyza: *jumps from the leg over the chair and straight down on Hituo*
Filyza: Filyza moves for another clinch.
Storyteller: The hit strikes Hituo full force, but he merely collapses with it, as if you had decided to kick a waterfall. A flash, and he grasps your legs, throwing both of you down into the water coating the floor.
Storyteller: Oberon, you arrive in time to see Hituo slowly gaining the advantage in the clinch against Filyza.
Filyza: Filyza ceases to struggle and washes down and away, attempting to divert the clinch to Hituo's legs.
Oberon: Oberon walks over to the Mnemon section and takes a seat, watching the action with immense focus. His jagged smile emerges again as he watches his brother wrestle.
Storyteller: Filyza, you do notice Oberon enter the room; a lone soul among the sea of admirers rooting for House Peleps.
Storyteller: Suddenly Hituo's legs are tightly wrenched in your grasp - you're not going to give them the satisfaction of watching House Mnemon fail.
Filyza: Like a wave rushing over the shore, he quickly rushes up Hituo's body and wraps all of himself in a binding lock around him, arms around neck, and legs about mid section.
Storyteller: Hituo tries to stammer out a joke, but fails as he begins coughing up water, literally drowning in the force of your clinch.
Filyza: *holds the clinch until Hituo is sufficiently unconscious*
Storyteller: Hituo slumps to the floor. The crowd gives polite applause, but really, they had all hoped and expected that Hituo would be victorious.
Filyza: “HA!”
Filyza: “Fools should know beter than to have hoped for anything less.”
Filyza: “Oberon, tell me, did you enjoy that?”
Filyza: *grins wide and devilish*
Oberon: "Aye, cousin, I did." his hands come together in a thunderous clap for Fliyza.
Filyza: *bows patronizingly to the Peleps*
Filyza: “Well now, what brings you here my brother?”
Filyza: *walks over to Oberon*
Oberon: "It is a family matter," he pulls out the invitation. "We have work to do."
Filyza: *holds the envelope to his head*
Filyza: “Hmmm…”
Filyza: “I sense…”
Filyza: “boring matters ahead yes?”
Filyza: *raises an eye brow at Oberon*
Oberon: He chuckles slightly. "If matters with Cynis could ever be called that."
Filyza: “Ahhh, what is it then?”
Filyza: *begins to tear open the envelope*
Oberon: "A Masquerade."
Oberon: "Come, I'll tell you the rest when the walls are mute."
Filyza: "Agreed.”

Storyteller: Perhaps now might be a good time to check in with Haloki, Valora, and Veca, as the party preparations begin.
Veca: Veca stands before her closet. Should she go with the green dress made of tulle, lace and covers herself modestly, or the nipple pasties, g-string, and socks? All of it is green, to match her peacock feather mask
Haloki: Standing before a full length mirror, Haloki looked sickly pale. "I.. uh.. are you sure this is fitting? I am unused to these sort of things, always turn the invitations down.. but.."
Valora: Valora new immediately what she'd wear. A sheer gauze dress made of the lightest fabric dyed a pale red color. With it, a deep crimson bodice to cinch her waist. Her long red hair to be left undone with a red mask of satin. Now, to help Haloki.
Haloki: Haloki turned around slowly, gulping. He was dressed in feathers, a few worn here, a few worn there. A few omitted. But at least it covered his front, if only he could say the same for his backside.
Haloki: He gave Valora a pleading look. "This isn't the kind of thing we’re looking for, surely!"
Valora: "It doesn't look bad, but if you'll be too embarrassed to talk to anyone, it wouldn't help. Your alternative choice: sheer material. You'll be covered, but still little will be left to the imagination. Which would you prefer?" She smiles.
Haloki: Groaning, Haloki shook his hand out, his index finger wagging in disapproval. "You had me try this one on first so I wouldn't complain about the other, didn't you?"
Valora: "Perhaps," she says with a mischievous grin.
Veca: Veca dives back into her closet looking for a third option.
Storyteller: Filyza and Oberon, you know where they are, and could find them. You need to plan your own outfits, as well.
Oberon: I'll take us to that shop, telling him about the assassination plan through subtle innuendo.
Filyza: *reads his invitation for any clues as to what costumes are implied*
Storyteller: The invitation simply says 'Masquerade', but with House Cynis, that generally means that the less clothes you wear, the better.
Filyza: "Blue…must find blue."
Haloki: By the time the guys arrive, Haloki had tried on a number of outfits. He finally settled on one with designs of monkeys climbing trees carefully embroidered on the crotch.
Storyteller: 'Masquerade' is a code word of sorts, meaning 'wear a mask so you can get really crazy without anyone recognizing who you are'.
Haloki: "Believe it or not, this was the -least- suggestive of my choices," he grumbles.
Oberon: "So modest you are."
Filyza: *arrives wearing blue manacles around his wrists, flowing blue silk pants with straps tied across from either knee, and a mask of blue leather with blue tatters flowing off the mask bellow his chin*
Filyza: "Hey."
Filyza: "Nice crotch monkeys."
Haloki: Raising an eyebrow at Filyza, Haloki shrugs. "Well, at least I'll not stand out for being dressed too conservatively. The things one will do for his love of family."
Filyza: "Hey, you don't know what can be done with this outfit!"
Oberon: Oberon reaches for some dark sheer pants. "These will do. Why not try them on?"
Filyza: "Nah try one of these,” says Filyza as he throws him a leather zipper face mask.
Filyza: "Or hey, you could wear both."
Filyza: "They are both black."
Haloki: Haloki scowls at his brothers. "Valora tormented me enough. The monkeys stay. At least I'm completely covered. Tastefully placed coconuts on my buttocks.." He rolls his eyes.
Oberon: Oberon makes for the mask, "Kinky!"
Storyteller: Mnemon Filyza is apparently trying to out-embarrass House Cynis. Although that might be a good way to convince them you're not spies for Mnemon...which you are.
Veca: Veca sighs as she finally decides on a flimsy grass skirt, green half coconut's over each breast, and taking the feathers off her mask, a peacock green mask.
Oberon: Oberon finds some nice pants, thin strands of thread make it up with only a little sheer material over the front to leave the bare minimum to the imagination. His torso is bare, dark brown leather wristbands with some chains dangling from them. The mask is similar the one Filyza had offered to Haloki, just the same color as the bands.
Haloki: Haloki settles with, you guessed it, a monkey mask. A maniacal grin is painted on it, and it was complete with fur. Lechery was written all over it. No, seriously, it was written in plain script around the edges.
Storyteller: Once your wardrobes are ready, the days leading up to the party pass quickly. If everyone's set, of course.
Valora: Mnemon Valora would make contact with her contacts for as much intelligence before going to the masquerade.
Storyteller: The word among your fellows is that Ragara has a long tradition of attempting to assassinate Mnemon, and it would seem that his House is eager to continue the family tradition.

Beri

07-20-2005, 07:01 PM

Storyteller: The house Cynis party is held on a lavish pleasure barge, although it is tethered to the dock. Everything is excess...yet everything is art.
Storyteller: This is not some filthy bang in a Nexus back alley. Every drapery, every morsel of food, every scent and every tone is designed by the master artisans of House Cynis to cause clothes and inhibitions to disappear.
Storyteller: Not all of House Cynis is an orgy. In fact, as you enter, you pass several middle-aged men and women in heated conversation, discussing games and politics. They writhe like passionate lovers, but through words rather than actions.
Storyteller: But the 60+ person orgy in the center of the main hall is certainly an attention-getter. Everyone has their mask on, though. There is pleasure, and then there is proper bearing.
Valora: Valora enters the party, just as if she belongs and attends such fetes on a regular occasion. Perhaps she does? But she knows who she's looking to talk to first.
Storyteller: Guests of all the Great Houses mingle. It looks inviting, but remember your mission - one of these people has detailed plans to kill Mnemon.
Storyteller: Well, to be honest, probably several.
Oberon: Oberon hid his distaste with his homely expressions and just acting the part of a normal patron to such an event. His eyes swept the crowd looking for the small hints anyone could have.
Filyza: *begins perusing the art section looking for others wearing similar bondage outfits*
Veca: Head held high and with confidence, Veca strolls in, smiling to a few people as if she knows them. Smiling at the middle aged people in heated conversation.
Storyteller: Filyza, others are there in bondage gear. Some merely wear the gear for show...and others are actively practicing their art.
Storyteller: Veca, the conversing men and women give you a warm welcome, and invite you to join them for conversation if you'd like.
Storyteller: Oberon, your attention is distracted by how un-Mnemon like all these guests are...hair not as fine, eyes not as deep. If you're looking for a motive, you can see how any of these people would be jealous of Mnemon.
Storyteller: Most of them probably would kill her, given the chance, but someone's got Mnemon worried enough that she sent out a full Circle.
Haloki: Haloki, knowing his place was not in the main chamber, stood on the outskirts. Those engaged in an orgy of discussion were his targets. Mainly, those in private discussion.
Haloki: He was well pleased that his intense looks of displeasure at the whole affair was hidden from the eyes of those around him. Monkey of protection, yay!
Veca: Veca joins the public discussion and joins the group closest to her that invited her over. She listens, and speaks up when ideas hit her.
Valora: Valora would flit from group to group, seeking her targets without looking as if she were seeking them out. She'd be sociable with everyone.
Filyza: *walks over to one of the participants in submissive clothes, pulling the sub’s hair back and leaning in he licks up the subs neck and then spits in his face*
Filyza: "Where is the kinkiest one?"
Filyza: "I want a real challenge tonight."
Storyteller: Veca, a middle aged man smiles from behind his mask. "Please join us, young woman. We discuss the Deliberative, and the future of the Scarlet Throne."
Storyteller: Filyza, the woman shudders in pleasure, raising a hand to point at a nude man reclining on a throne, a tapestry with the symbol of House Cynis wound around his shoulders, and a black mask on his face.
Storyteller: It's true that he is the most dominant; he controls the room, and all dance to his tune when he merely lifts a finger.
Filyza: *turns and looks to the man*
Storyteller: Valora manages to weasel a few identities out of people. A Nellens here (how did she get an invitation?), a Ledaal there, an Iselsi, a Ragara.
Storyteller: Filyza, the man on the throne, the Cynis orgy-leader, laughs. "Have your choice of prizes. Take what you desire."
Veca: Veca smiles. Her mask is a half mask, covering her nose and upper portion of her face. Her mouth and chin easily seen. "What is the future of the Scarlet throne?" her voice soft, but loud enough to be heard by the group.
Valora: Valora stops to speak with the Ragara. Starting with a general comment of the fete, the on to deeper issues: the future of the empire.
Filyza: *shakes his head at the man and begins to suspend himself from his manacles with his arms behind his back and his wrists through the ties in his pants so that he is hanging like a tied pig then grins*
Storyteller: Veca, the man shakes his head. "It won't be that lazy Tepet regent; he's already an embarrassment to his House. Mnemon and Cathak...no. Too idealistic, too caught up in themselves, they'd make the Realm a toy."
Oberon: Oberon looks for other Exalts, anyone who he deems a threat he joins in conversation, listening well to all said in that circle.
Oberon: He keeps his tone jolly and trust himself little in keeping a fair tone with these degenerates.
Storyteller: Oberon, most of the guests are Exalts. There are perhaps two dozen mortals here, all with their eyes rolled back in their heads as they experience the kind of sex, drugs, and excesses reserved for the Chosen.
Storyteller: Valora, the Ragara is Ragara Yalene, a great-grandson of Ragara himself. He seems to be a wallflower; setting himself away from the action, but still seeming like he could leap in at any moment.
Haloki: Haloki tries to spy out any private conversations, training his ears on those as subtly as he can. If he sees the need, he'll begin flirting to make himself stand out less, and he'll creep closer to suspects.
Storyteller: "Hello, miss," Ragara Yalene says. "I do hope you're enjoying yourself."
Veca: Veca nods as she listens. "Mnemon interests me. I think I've overheard once or twice that she wishes to unite the Realm. Does this gain her many fans?"
Storyteller: Haloki, you listen in on harmless conversations, follow suspicious peoples, and generally get nowhere. However, you do find one thing - a room on the lower level of the ship, locked.
Storyteller: Odd, in that during these parties, all rooms are open, all unlocked and visible. You could even make love in the engine room, if you wanted to risk destroying the ship; it's all fair game.
Valora: "Very much so," Valora says with a large smile.
Storyteller: Veca, the man harumphs.
Storyteller: "She seems to execute her fair share of murders, and have a fair share aimed at her as well. She generally acts like she's the Empress already, and that's just ruining her chances of ever touching the throne.
Storyteller: Ragara Yalene picks a drink up off a passing servant. No, she didn't have a tray. "Don't let me stop you from joining in. I'm waiting for someone, so I'm afraid the gifts of House Cynis must pass over me for now."
Valora: "And what delightful gifts they are, too. It'd be a shame to mix business with such a marvelous masquerade," Valora comments.
Storyteller: Valora, the man chuckles. "All this is business. See that woman, back arched in ecstasy? Her writhing just closed a bargain between Nellens and Cathak."
Valora: She smiles, looking and playing the dunce. "How clever!" she remarks, looking back to him.
Veca: "One should never count their Dragons before they're hatched. But who could want Mnemon dead so badly?" Veca seems to muse this out loud, but not too loud.
Storyteller: Veca, he thinks for a moment. "Well, Ragara has a long history of trying to get her out of the way, can't see why he'd stop now."
Veca: Veca still looks very thoughtful, as if she wasn't even in the room, "Would he go so far as to murder her in public?"
Storyteller: "In public? I suppose so, whatever would get the job done. Mnemon's sharp, though. Always on guard, always surrounded by demons. Ragara's not going to get her."
Haloki: Haloki, trying not to let his attention linger too much on the lock door as to seem suspicious, casually weaves his way through the crowd. He seeks out the distinctive mask of Oberon, and tries to call his attention.
Veca: Veca rubs her nose as best she can with the mask on, "Poisoning her would be right out I suppose."
Oberon: Oberon's eyes never really stop moving, but it only takes a few minutes for him to notice Haloki's attempts and casually makes his way over to his brother.
Storyteller: Valora, the Ragara smiles, eyes soft towards you through his mask. He's taking an interest in you.
Storyteller: "Doubtful. If she's still half-human after all the demons and dark energies she's channeled through her body, I still wouldn't expect any poison to take."
Haloki: Haloki doesn't say a word, in fear of eavesdroppers, but beckons with his eyes as he takes the long route around the orgy, to the locked door. He takes pains to make sure no one is following him beyond his brother.
Valora: Valora smiles. "I don't suppose you could point out another one, could you?" she asks.
Storyteller: Filyza, the Cynis chuckles, impressed by your antics. "You're the most dominant of the submissives, or the most submissive of the dominants. Come and tell me your name; or shall I beat it out of you?"
Filyza: "You could try."
Filyza: *grins devilishly wide*
Storyteller: Ragara Yalene points a single finger. "A friend of mine there, in the 'riding the dragon' position with the two men?
Storyteller: Her loins are poisoned; those Cynis will not walk for weeks, long enough for Ragara to push another controversial idea through the Deliberative."
Valora: Valora laughs, not having guessed that one herself. She looks to Ragara. "Impressive. You must have a very keen eye."
Veca: Veca hrms, "So how would you go about killing the seemingly unkillable?"
Storyteller: "I?" He asks Veca. "I've never had to plan an assassination. I'd probably try to turn one of her schemes against her; have one of her own assassination attempts go awry. Maybe release a demon. I don't know."
Storyteller: The Ragara nods. "An attention to detail, and a knowledge of personalities. Everyone has a secret."
Valora: "Even you?" she asks seductively, batting her long lashes with a coy smile across her lips. Boy, getting him to talk was easy, but it wasn't exactly what she wanted to hear. Yet.
Haloki: The path is long, but Haloki finally guides his brother the destination.
Haloki: Pulling him into the shadows, as if pursuing a romantic interest, he whispers, "This door... it's locked. Think you could use that creative mojo of yours to get it open?"
Oberon: "You were always the more creative one. But I'm certain it won't be an obstacle," he mutters to Haloki
Storyteller: "Even I," he replies, offering no more than that. Your coy look would be successful if his eyes were on your face...which, like any virile man, they are not.
Haloki: With that said, and a wink exchanged, Haloki pushes his brother away as if rejecting him. Haughtily, he walks off, grabbing a drink one of the common humans,
Haloki: and pretending to nurse it. Really, he is making sure the coast is clear for his brother to get things done.
Veca: Veca seems to "wake" from her musing, "Oh, not you personally. I have a tendency to the morbid side of life. I've heard she's taken on more protection recently, but if she has demons ....then she wouldn't need the extra protection, would she?"
Oberon: Oberon faces the crowd, looking at the ground, appearing dejected leaning against the door, working his charms on the door, faster than the water on the stone but with the same non-existent noise.
Storyteller: The man nods to Veca. "She is well protected. Anyone who is going to strike will strike when she is defenseless...but I have no idea what time that might be."
Storyteller: "You might wish to ask the red-haired lass over there," he indicates Valora. "She keeps...interesting company."
Storyteller: Oberon, the lock dissolves at your touch.
Veca: Veca smiles and kisses the man's cheek. "Thank you for the conversation, if you'll excuse me, I see a sister of mine who looks like she's parched." Veca grabs a nearby goblet and heads off towards Valora
Valora: Valora does her best to hide her contempt. "I'll keep that in mind," she tells Ragara.
Oberon: He walks over to Haloki, making the overtures of a man trying to regain the others interest in him, wrapping him in his arms. With the appear of whispering sweetness into his ear he tells his brother of his success
Storyteller: Filyza, sorry to have left you hanging, literally - of course, the Cynis was in no hurry to get to you either. He takes up a nasty looking paddle and advances on you.
Storyteller: The room fills with whispers of how that's his special tool, and how he must really like you, or hate you!
Haloki: Haloki channels his satisfaction of a job well done into a playful growl, shoving his brother away once more, but this time grabbing his arm, and with a cocky flip of his hair, leading him back to where the door is.
Haloki: Positioning himself across from the target, he pushes Oberon against the wall, and peers over his brother shoulder. Whispering, he mentions,
Haloki: "Now is our chance. Push off the wall, and we'll seamlessly slip from view."
Storyteller: Veca approaches Valora, who stands next to a tall man in a tight tunic in the style of a military uniform, red, with a red mask over his eyes. Ragara Yalene.
Filyza: Filyza stretches in his harness and readies himself.
Storyteller: The Cynis begins laying down brutal whacks on your backside. "Who dares come into my house and try to take over my party? What are you?" WHACK! "Cathak?" WHACK! "Ragara?" WHACK! "Tepet?"
Storyteller: WHACK! "Or probably just some filthy scum from a low house who oozed in under my door? Isn't that right, scum?"
Filyza: With each hit, Filyza rolls with the blow, and returns like a calm pond.
Storyteller: Soon, you are quite sore, and enjoying yourself, but not much closer to discovering a conspiracy. This man, and House Cynis as a whole, are far too aggressive, passionate, and violent to play the assassination game.

Oberon: Oberon pushes off the wall, holding his brother tight making the appearance of two entwined with each other and quite occupied with each other
Storyteller: Within the hidden room is actually very little. A cot, but plain, unmade. A few jugs of water. Of course, you tear the room apart, top to bottom, searching for the reason it was locked...
Storyteller: And there it is. Literally sewn into a hidden pocket of the sheets, a journal. You would have missed it, but they were careless - the cover is wood, and it called to Haloki.
Haloki: Slapping Oberon on the back, and grinning widely, Haloki positions himself so his brother can read through the text with him. "Lets hope we didn't just make enemies with this house by terrorizing a room on their barge for nothing."
Oberon: He chuckles, "Agreed."
Storyteller: Unfortunately, the text is encrypted. But the Air Aspects are known for their skills in language...
Oberon: Oberon sighs in frustration leaning in close to hear his brother's mutterings
Haloki: Haloki closes the book, clearly frustrated. "Hmm... want to slip this to our air-headed sis while I clean up? Might be suspicious the two of us approaching her. I'll catch up with you."
Oberon: Oberon scratches his chest, reddening it, taking the journal and holding it close slips out of the room
Oberon: He rejoins the crowd and begins a grain by grain search to find the sister he seeks.
Valora: Valora pretends not to notice Veca approaching her and her conversation partner.
Veca: Veca blinks as she looks at Valora but smiles as she holds up the goblet, "Thirsty, love?"
Valora: Valora looks genuinely surprised as Veca speaks. She smiles, pushing her long hair over her shoulder with one smooth move then taking the goblet with the other. "Why, thank you."
Storyteller: Oberon, you find them both in time; Veca and Valora.
Haloki: Haloki, with a bit of urgency, tries to clean up the mess he and his brother had in searching the room out so thoroughly.
Haloki: When he finished, he winced as he looked at what remained of the lock, but eventually shrugged his shoulders and joined the party.
Oberon: Oberon slides over to his sisters, into their general area, seeing they are occupied with someone, waits, mingling with the others around them until he's certain one of them is away or less occupied
Veca: Veca smiles and turns to see Oberon. She turns back to Valora, "Beg pardon." and turns to Oberon, or rather closes the gap and presses her body against Oberon. What personal space?
Oberon: He brings the book between them, making her aware of it. In his whispers of pleasure and beauty he hides the request of her to look into the book.
Valora: Valora smiles to Ragara, keeping Veca and Oberon in her view. . . wondering if there'd be no more information to get from him. Probably not . . .but didn't want to leave as abruptly as Veca.
Veca: Veca flutters her eyes, a blush creeps to her cheeks as she takes the book and hides in, gods only knows where, but she does.
Veca: If Oberon allows. She kisses his cheek before turning to Valora. "Sorry about that, can't help myself."
Storyteller: You'll just need a moment alone in some dark corner to translate the book. There's always the option of leaving the party, as well, if you feel this journal is what you need.
Valora: She waves her hand in a dismissive gesture, smiling.
Oberon: He does allow, returning one to her lips, hiding in his words of hedonistic pleasure "For the sake of the family.”
Storyteller: The Ragara doesn't seem to notice Veca's leaving, currently being more interested in Valora.
Veca: Veca sees that Ragara and Valora are occupied, so she goes to hide in a darkened corner to translate the book.
Haloki: Haloki, as an excuse to prevent himself from just idly staring, moves over to the dominant and submissive area.
Haloki: Wrapping himself around a woman's back, he watches his family from a distance, pretending to be interested in the despicable female before him.
Storyteller: A simple Linguistics Charm opens up the passages to you, and you marvel at what you read. It's all here.
Storyteller: A journal passed between two conspirators, leaving their names out, but detailing their duties in the upcoming plot against Mnemon.
Storyteller: One, a woman, a poisoner, currently at the party using her body to poison a few Cynis.
Storyteller: The other, the financier, who will replace Mnemon's house staff and neutralize the Emerald Thurible. A powerful Ragara.
Storyteller: They also speak of a wise man who will summon demons to replace Mnemon's own, removing her most loyal line of defense from right beneath his eyes.
Storyteller: All are House Ragara, all are here...and realization dawns that Veca and Valora have been chatting up murderers for the last few hours.
Storyteller: You couldn't make your strike here, however. Too many witnesses...and Cynis parties tend to be considered neutral territory.
Veca: Veca memorizes all of this as best she can. She hides it again and hurries, although politely, back to Oberon. She kisses his neck while she passes the book back to him. Her kisses words in his ears, "It's all here."
Storyteller: No, it's time to say your goodbyes and leave; slip yourselves out of the pleasure den and begin the much more pleasurable process of planning defenses and revenge.
Oberon: Oberon manages to hide the book again from sight and begins subtle gestures to Haloki to show it was time to go.
Haloki: Haloki, watches the subtle exchange being made, and spots Oberon's signal, Peeling himself away from the harlot, he does his best to shake off the filth he surely gathered from simply touching her.
Haloki: He would need a good long bath after this, certainly. Casually, he started his path to the exit, with an exhalation of relief.
Oberon: Oberon with Vera, makes his way to the exit, taking a minute to intercept Haloki and ask the specific details of where the book originally was so he could return to such a place
Valora: Valora bows her head, attempting to make her departure from Ragara Yalene. "It's been a pleasure."
Storyteller: "Indeed," he responds.
Veca: Veca hangs onto Oberon, as if he's her soul reason for living.
Storyteller: You exit the party, still heady with pride and the wisps of intoxicants you inhaled. Filyza stays a little longer – for him, the party is just picking up.
Storyteller: The conspiracy plans to take place two days from now. It's a narrow window to figure out who all the players are, and how to best defend Mnemon.
Haloki: The information was exchanged, and well detailed. Haloki did one last act of flirting to get the knowledge across, winking at Veca as he borrowed 'her' man.
Storyteller: Not like she really needs defending, but...she did ask, specifically, for you to aid her. Mnemon must have a purpose.
Storyteller: I'm sure we'll find out what it is next week.
Storyteller: -------------------

Beri

08-03-2005, 12:53 AM

Interlude 2: The Dragon-Blooded
Present: Mnemon Veca, Mnemon Valora

Storyteller: Here we are, at Mnemon's lovely home. It's the night that the conspiracy had written in their journal that they would strike.
Storyteller: It's early evening, with the sun just beginning to slip beneath the horizon.
Storyteller: Guards have been posted around the compound; a few extra, but not too many.
Storyteller: An army would just attract attention, and with Mnemon's current machinations, that's the last thing she wants.
Veca: Veca hides stealthy in a tree.
Storyteller: The journal, although fairly clear, left some gaps. Something will happen with the servants, and something with demons.
Valora: Valora would mix among the guards, a thin but sturdy blade strapped to her hip. Her long red hair is pulled back into a single braid. She'd keep an eye upon ther servants.
Storyteller: The servants all seem aware, but it's always a little tricky around this hour. With the sun going down, the urge to sleep becomes stronger.
Storyteller: Many of them lounge at their posts - still watching their assigned areas, but calm, not tensed and sharp.
Veca: Veca hides in her tree, alert, ready to pounce at a moment's notice
Valora: Valora tries to assume this calm attitude, but wants to stay very alert. Masterfully, she keeps her hand near the hilt of her rapier (now that i remember the name of the sword) without it being obvious.
Storyteller: The guards salute you as you pass them. "Good evening, miss Valora." They smile in admiration, a cool night breeze blowing across the grounds.
Veca: Meanwhile we have placed Oberon and uh Haloki in Mnemon's mansion, to keep watch and at the ready. Filyza keeps watch somewhere too.
Veca: Veca eats a bar of chocolate, looking for anything suspicious
Storyteller: Something happens, but it's certainly not suspicious...that's far too subtle a word.
Storyteller: From the other side of the compound, the alarm bell begins ringing. The sound is quickly echoed by the bells at the other guard towers, creating a cacophony of panicked noise.
Valora: Valora raises an eyebrow, turning towards the sound of the ruckus. Could this possibly be a distraction?
Veca: Veca stays where she's at. Sure that "It's a trap!"
Valora: Valora moves to head closer to where Mnemon is supposedly staying, hoping to cut off any would-be assassins
Storyteller: The servants certainly aren't treating it as a distraction, flowing into formations and advancing on the side of the compound.
Storyteller: A cry of 'Demons!' manages to rise over the din of the bells.
Veca: Veca watches this side of the compound, more alert than ever, she...looks for demons
Storyteller: The interior of the house, however, is much more quiet. Mnemon's doors are still sealed, and servants shuffle around with padded sandals.
Storyteller: No action on your side, Veca. The other side is a thunderous mass of combat.
Veca: Veca hrms. And heads inside.
Valora: Valora frowns . . . things are quiet, too quiet perhaps. She has her hand on the hilt of her rapier, but the sword remains at her hip.
Storyteller: You have free reign of the house, being the children of Mnemon. Perhaps the only chamber you would be restrained from is the most important; Mnemon's.
Veca: Veca knocks on the door to Mnemon's room. "Are you all right in there m'lady?"
Valora: Valora approaches behind Veca.
Storyteller: The response is slow coming. "Perhaps you could, indeed, offer some assistance in here."
Veca: Veca opens the door cautiously
Storyteller: Mnemon is sitting on the edge of her desk, her crimson robes trailing onto the floor.
Storyteller: Nearby, a dagger in his hand, is Ragara Yalene, the fellow who Valora spoke with at the Cynis orgy.
Storyteller: Mnemon coughs lightly to clear her throat. "My children, meet Yalene, my assassin and my guest."
Veca: Veca places her hand at her sword and blinks, "Guest?"
Storyteller: Yalene seems somewhat unconcerned with your presence, but is angered by Mnemon's calm. "The hour of Mnemon is at an end!"
Valora: Valora, enetering behind Veca, raises her eyebrow. Why not surprised? She draws her rapier with a florish. "Not quite."
Storyteller: "Three against one, hmm? And of course," he turns toward Mnemon, "the air here is thick with demons, waiting to rend me to pieces."
Veca: "Exactly, so why don't you put the dagger down, we order some tea, and talk about this." Veca offers
Storyteller: "I can't defeat you all...but I don't need to," he says. "All I need to do is THIS!"
Storyteller: He hurls his dagger, ornately wrought with jade, at a device hanging from a chain on a stand next to Mnemon.
Storyteller: The Emerald Thurible, a legendary artifact, which allows Mnemon her extravagant control over demons.
Storyteller: The dagger and Thurible collide with a grand flash of light, blinding everyone present.
Veca: *the audience gasps!*
Storyteller: "Ha!" Ragara shouts. "Without the Thurible to control your demons, this manor will be a bloodbath!"
Valora: Valora blinks to clear her eyes from the bright flash. She looks between Ragara and Mnemon, eyebrow arched curiously. This. . . was not what she was expecting.
Storyteller: The room is filled with a howling yell, a harsh wind blowing your garments out behind you.
Veca: Veca rolls and throws her body over Mnemon.
Storyteller: Veca covers Mnemon, but Mnemon simply walks away. Trying to restrain an Earth aspect when she wants to move is like trying to stop a rockslide.
Storyteller: Mnemon taps a finger against her lips, looking over the dagger stuck into the side of the Thurible.
Veca: Veca lays on the floor and watches Mnemon.
Storyteller: "Ah, the Shattering Aegis Blade. I believe the rumors say it can destroy any artifact, correct?"
Valora: Valora does not make a move, either way. Mnemon was controlling the demons? Ragara was her guest? She looks between the two of them, waiting...
Storyteller: "And House Ragara has held this for many years, waiting for a powerful artifact to use it against."
Storyteller: She glares at Yalene, and he takes a hesitant step back, suddenly sweating.
Storyteller: "Who," she steps towards him, "my dear Yalene, do you think gave that toy to Ragara?"
Storyteller: With that, Yalene erupts into flame. Blood sprays from tears in his skin - except the blood is pure flame, transformed by the sheer force of Mnemon's sorcery.
Storyteller: The powerless dagger clatters to the ground of the chamber.
Veca: Veca still lays on the floor, watching the show. "Wow." she mutters.
Storyteller: "A pity," says Mnemon. "That an assassin got so close to me."
Veca: Veca's eyes widen. "Oh crap." she mutters some more and stands, quickly heading back over to Valora, and then behind Valora.
Storyteller: "Come out, Veca. You did well. I have no malice for my favored grandchildren."
Valora: Valora stands her ground, rapier still in hand, facing Mnemon. She doesn't dare glance at Veca behind her.
Veca: Veca pops her head out about Valora's shoulder. "Oh, that's good."
Valora: "M'lady. . . it seems you were in no need of your 'favored grandchildren.' You handled yourself quite. . . well," Valora says with a steady voice.
Storyteller: Mnemon picks up the dagger from the floor. "I gave Ragara this over two hundred years ago. The best plans are laid far in advance."
Veca: Veca nods, "So, if that's all, I guess we'll just go shoot the Demons on the other side of the compound and call it a night?"
Storyteller: "No, dears. I still have need for you."
Storyteller: "It was quite a tragedy, really. The assassin came far too close - so close, in fact, that my favored grandchildren, a full circle of the Exalted, were forced to lay down their lives to protect me."
Veca: Veca heads closer to the door. "What a shame we're not your favored grandchildren anymore."
Storyteller: Valora, it's quite an unusual feeling. It almost feels like air itself being driven through you. Looking down, your breastplate is punctured - from behind - by three glistening, bloody arrowheads.
Storyteller: "Ah, but it was the last straw by House Ragara," she says, advancing towards Veca. "Who would deny me my anger? Who would deny me the Scarlet Throne?"
Valora: Valora blinks at the bloody arrowheads, the tip of her rapier drooping to touch the ground. .. confusion on her face.
Storyteller: In the corner of the room, Valora, is the black-garbed archer who shot you. How did you overlook him before?
Storyteller: "Of course, if I were to lay a hand upon you, the evidence would show. But those of the stars leave no traces."
Storyteller: Veca, you're feeling uncomfortable. Warm, yet chilled at the same time, as the very essence of your being twists. Valora, you simply feel cold, as the life oozes from you a drop at a time.
Veca: "Who would deny the fact that we knew all along and that in the event of my demise, it will be all over the news tomorrow that Mnemon killed her favored grandchildren."
Veca: Veca says with confidence that could scare. She tries not to let her physical pain get in the way.
Storyteller: She laughs. "Of course you knew! I hear the whispers in the alleys, and they are true. I would gladly lay waste to all my kin if it would gain me one foot upon the Throne."
Veca: Veca shrugs, as if none of this bothers her. "So who's going to give you the Scarlet throne if everyone know tomorrow you comitted genocide to get it?"
Storyteller: "Because nobody can stop me. A gift, for you. Know the name of your killer, Mnemon Veca - the darkness of the stars reflected in this gentleman, Mortality Stumbled."
Storyteller: "You truly are my favored children, and your honor is great. There are many who I would not consider suitable for even a stepping stone, but you - you are blessed."
Storyteller: She snaps her fingers, and the archer's near-silent chanting ends. A great, spiked chain materializes from the air, flying towards Veca's neck - the rapidly approaching instrument of her demise.
Veca: Veca shrugs and in one quick movement, slits her own throat. She falls forward, bleeding on the "Empress" dress. "I'm sorry for bleeding on you." Veca gurgles out.
Storyteller: Veca took the one action which surprises the sorcerer, and the spell goes over her head, shattering and shredding a bookcase behind Mnemon.
Valora: "The throne does not belong to you, Mnemon!," Valora says, coughing up blood. "And when the Scarlet Empress returns. . .you will pay." She glares at the woman. . not caring now. . .a hand grasping at the arrowheads.
Storyteller: She humphs. "Troublesome. She destroyed priceless lore, and she got blood on my dress."
Storyteller: Your vision dims, and your skin grows cold. The world reduces to a tunnel, to a pinprick...then all is gone.
Storyteller: The next day, in her 'rage', Mnemon lashed out at House Ragara. The other Houses, hearing of the murder of her grandchildren by Ragara, hesitated to defend House Ragara - hesistated just long enough to allow House Mnemon to crush Ragara, seize their power, and immediately assault House Cathak.
Storyteller: Mnemon would not become the Scarlet Empress overnight, however. Even though she manipulated the war until it was winnable, it was still a war, and many thousands and millions would die before its conclusion.
Storyteller: The year is Realm Year 770. And for the first time in 770 years, the Realm boils over with civil war.
Storyteller: Whether Mnemon succeeds or fails, the world will be a different place once she's done. A pity that her most loyal children had to die before they could see it.
Storyteller: -----------------

YerMum

08-04-2005, 04:01 AM

Cool! Mnemon is such a stone hearted bitch...

Beri

08-04-2005, 04:06 AM

Yep. The way she's written, she'd sacrifice a brotherhood of Dragon-Blooded - and happily - for even the slightest glimmer of power. After all, her children and grandchildren can always spit out more howling Dragon-touched babies, but there's only one Scarlet Throne.
Mnemon is one scary old lady.

It was a mean trick to pull, but my promise to my players for these short sessions was just that their characters would be involved in some of the most dramatic events to reshape the world. I never said they'd be the ones pulling the strings...

Khlara

08-04-2005, 10:54 PM

That's okkay. I know when we get back to normal play you'll let Celeste break out all the bad moves. And knock the head off of Ennui. *british curse words here* and rule the world with tea somehow.

Beri

08-04-2005, 10:58 PM

That's okkay. I know when we get back to normal play you'll let Celeste break out all the bad moves. And knock the head off of Ennui. *british curse words here* and rule the world with tea somehow.

Well, knocking off Salesh Enoi will be a bit of an adventure. Ruling the world with tea, though? I can't stop you there, you just need to remind me about the tea shop. I want to see your work flourish! And yeah, Celeste can be teh badass.

Beri

08-17-2005, 03:01 AM

Interlude 3: The Lunars

Sidereal Character / Lunar Character
Fas'rial / Gyrkan, the Serrated Barricade
Kara / Molten Ire
Rising Sun / Mind of Wind

Technical difficulties gave us a bumpy session, but I think we had a good time.

Storyteller: Gyrkan, Molten Ire, and Mind of Wind. You three are the favored disciples of Ma-Ha-Suchi, the future ruler of the East.
Storyteller: Although, like he, you are all Lunar Exalted, there is much deference to seniority in the Lunar society.
Storyteller: Even though many Lunars are of the thought that Ma-Ha-Suchi is undoubtably bloodthirsty and insane, none would stand in the way of his rage.
Storyteller: Society benefits you, as well. You have hundreds of beastmen beneath you, the children of Lunars, humans, and the Wyld.
Storyteller: You're the middle management of the apocalypse.
Storyteller: Today, you are camped out near the Nameless Lair of Ma-Ha-Suchi with the legions of beastmen, waiting for a promised announcement from the ancient Lunar.
Storyteller: The sun rises, but who cares? It is when the moon begins to peek over the horizon that your attention sharpens. Now is the time of Luna.
Storyteller: Still, there's a little time before you should expect Ma-Ha-Suchi...a good time to meet your fellow soldiers. Especially since Ma-Ha-Suchi's grand plans have had each of you gone to a separate corner of Creation for the last year.
Mind of Wind: Mind of Wind settles on the ground, his brown/black hair settling into its default form from his typical bird form and looks to the other Lunar exalts, greeting them and giving his name. "Hello, hello to you"
Gyrkan: Gyrkan, the Serrated Barricade, is not still. His massive shields, bigger than the average man, pound together, a none too gentle drumbeat of respect.
Gyrkan: "It is good that you have returned. Our Lord comes soon."
Storyteller: A few other Lunars have gathered. Ma-Ha-Suchi has a massive congregation, and the Lunars are not few in number, although not as populous as the Dragon-Blooded.
Storyteller: Random battles have broken out in the crowd as groups of Lunars meet. A furry arm sails over your head, spattering you with blood, cleanly severed with a moonsilver blade.
Storyteller: It'll grow back.
Storyteller: It's just the usual back-slapping male bonding, just done by ten-foot mountains of rage.
Mind of Wind: Mind of Wind gets up and heads in the direction that the fight, to watch the others in action
Molten Ire: Molten Ire, with shaved head and dark linen clothes, looks to the others. Leaning against his steel quarterstaff, observing a spat.
Storyteller: A large snakeman has his fangs lodged in a screaming pig-man. The piggicus is missing an arm, but raining down blows on the snake's scales with his six-inch claws.
Gyrkan: The Serrated Barricade smiles grimly, his mostly bare, leathery skin dark. "We are welcomed by blood, as is our right."
Mind of Wind: Wind chuckled at the sight, savoring the feel of the battle
Storyteller: A shout emerges above the crowd. "SILENCE!"
Storyteller: Almost immediately, the gathered troops fall to a crouch. The caller is not Ma-Ha-Suchi, but his herald; Ma-Ha-Suchi follows behind.
Storyteller: A grand goat-beast, towering nearly 15 feet. Ma-Ha-Suchi very rarely changes out of his Deadly Beastman form anymore.
Gyrkan: Immediately, all mirth gone from his features, the Serrated Barricade lowers himself, his shields leaning against either side of him. His eyes glow with anticipation, as he gazes upon his lord.
Mind of Wind: Mind Of Wind settles to his knee, listening well to Ma-Ha-Suchi
Storyteller: Ma-Ha-Suchi speaks. "Children! Today is a glorious day. The stars have long opposed the Chosen of Luna, but today, we rise!"
Molten Ire: Molten Ire's large dark eyes shift to Ma-Ha-Suchi, the small grin across his face fading to a somber face.
Storyteller: A young woman - a human! - walks up and stands next to Ma-Ha-Suchi, proudly, as if she owned the temple as much as he did.
Gyrkan: Tough, wiry muscles flex, and a shuddering breath leaves the massive man of shells. Gyrkan gazes upon the mere mortal standing so proudly before him, and his eyes narrow.
Storyteller: "Among the forces of order and civilization, there are those who understand as we do how the world must be. I present to you Blasphemy of Starlight; who shall weave the very stars and skies to bring us glory!"
Storyteller: A cheer rises from the crowd, long and animal, howls and stomps echoing through the forest. Ma-Ha-Suchi is in no hurry to quiet them, and the roar continues for minutes.
Molten Ire: Molten Ire raises an eyebrow and glances around at his compatriots. Wary . . . he looks back to Ma-Ha-Suchi.
Storyteller: As it dies down, Ma-Ha-Suchi continues. "We are not without enemies, however. The Realm is weak, mere paper to be shattered, but they are a threat. And worse comes."
Storyteller: "The Bull of the North, Exalted of the Sun, mirrors our work, conquering the East from the North as we come from the South."
Storyteller: Ma-Ha-Suchi calls out three names, the names of other Lunars. They rise and approach him. "You shall go North to the Linowan, and turn them against the Bull. His tendrils reach the Haltans, but the Linowan will oppose."
Storyteller: "Gyrkan! Molten Ire! Wind of Mind!"
Mind of Wind: Mind Of Wind snaps to his feet, looking at Ma-Ha-Suchi. "Milord"
Molten Ire: Molten Ire steps forward, standing on his own two feet with his staff at his side.
Gyrkan: Rising to his feet, Gyrkan roars an acknowledgment, clapping his shields together with a fire in his eyes.
Storyteller: "I send you to a most contested area, the Hundred Kingdoms. And you shall conquer each, one by one."
Storyteller: "The Bull of the North has men there; I can smell them. Conquer these filthy lands of man, and bring back news of the Bull."
Storyteller: "Your path is West."
Gyrkan: Flaring his nostrils, and breathing in through clenched teeth, Gyrkan bows his head forward in consent. Although his head is shaved, it was done poorly, and patches of black hair poke through.
Mind of Wind: Mind Of Wind Bows with avian grace as though to say it shall be as you command
Molten Ire: Molten Ire's head bows, but his eyes don't movefrom Ma-Ha-Suchi.
Storyteller: Ma-Ha-Suchi is done with you. He moves on to the next assault group of Lunars, an excursion to retake a Manse in the Wyld.
Storyteller: The Hundred Kingdoms are far, yes, but known to you. They are named not because they are actually a hundred kingdoms,
Storyteller: but because the land is dotted with lords and domains which spring up and disappear overnight. A loose alliance makes them a formidable enemy as a whole.
Storyteller: Sure! A few hundred beastmen, humans mutated by the energies of the Wyld. Their pain and desperation makes them ideal soldiers.
Storyteller: At least if you want soldiers willing to throw themselves in a rage at any designated target.
Gyrkan: Gyrkan starts the drumbeat of war once more, this time targeted to a specific set of troops he finds himself responsible with. "Brothers, gather your men, your supplies. It is time to move, no?"
Storyteller: They grunt in the affirmative.
Mind of Wind: Mind of Wind lets loose a call into the sky, letting his soldiers know its time to prepare for action once again
Molten Ire: Molten Ire does not care for such loud and showy theatrics. he commands obediance through silent intimidation and wisdom
Storyteller: Whether loud or soft, your soldiers know your style. They obey.
Gyrkan: The Serrated Barricade makes the necessary preparations, then sets the directions. "We will root out our enemies, by tooth and fang."
Storyteller: Some beastmen seem anxious. "What know we of Hundred Kingdoms? Are they real? Are they strong?"
Storyteller: "And star-speaker, why Ma-Ha-Suchi not crush her? Why need she?"
Gyrkan: "NO ONE questions the will of Ma-Ha-Suchi. We act for his glory, and will crush anything and everything that opposes him!" The Serrated Barricade, sends a shield into the one who questioned of the star-speaker.
Storyteller: He goes down, and the others cheer. Their minds are settled, it is time for damage!
Storyteller: The Hundred Kingdoms are about 1000 miles to the west. This is a bit of a march you have ahead of you.
Mind of Wind: Mind Of Wind briefs his troops having them make the preparations for the long march ahead. With his troops he waits as the others prepare.
Molten Ire: Molten Ire shares little with his troops, but doesn't discourage their asking questions. Just as they know they won't always get answers. Prepped and ready to go.
Storyteller: Your troops are more or less perpetually ready to go. With little equipment, all they must do is pick up their weapons and march.
Gyrkan: Gyrkan sets his most trusted advisors to organize the equipment needed to begin this journey. He fully expects to loot those on the way for more,
Gyrkan: but he makes sure there is enough to start. "My forces will take the rear. We are steady, we are potent. But speed isn't our greatest strength."
Molten Ire: Molten looks to Mind of Wind. "And you? where do your strengths lie?"
Mind of Wind: "Speed proves to be mine, the winds blow well when I take to freedom of skys. It wouldn't be hard for me to take point"
Gyrkan: A snarl of a grin is shown. "In bleeding, so that others do not. In taking the pain, so that the needed pain is given to our enemies."
Gyrkan: With that, he takes his blades shield and gives a nice slice to his chest, blood welling up. "But pain is not our enemy."
Mind of Wind: "Pain is a mere thing we face on the front lines. More often inflicted on others: cripple, cripple fall." He begins to hop ever so slightly at the prospect of future battles.
Gyrkan: BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. Steady, inevitable, the beastmen of the Serrated Barricade started their snarling, half-organized march. Towering in their midst, was the giant shield barer, peering West.
Mind of Wind: Swiftly, the flyers move on the westward winds. Wind has a small squad ahead of the main body of his troops to keep eyes out for trouble. He flew above his troops, watching over them.
Storyteller: It's a long ways to the Hundred Kingdoms, but by the air, it will only take a few days to come into sight.
Gyrkan: Although knowing his men to be obedient, Gyrkan also knew there were needs to be fulfilled. He allowed his men to demand tribute, to fight for what they desired along the way. In doing so, he kept them sharp.
Storyteller: You certainly run into more than enough foes and villages along the way to keep your troops satiated. It's the barbarian way.
Storyteller: They direct your way along the rivers towards the Hundred Kingdoms; a land hundreds, if not thousands of miles across.
Gyrkan: Gyrkan attempts to recruit new warriors, build up his forces for the warfare that will no doubt come ahead.
Gyrkan: Prisoners taken, the strong only, for that purpose, given a choice - serve for honor, or die. Blood flows like the rivers crossed.
Mind of Wind: Wind scouts for smooth routes with towns to keep the troops decently fed and on the occasion bolstered. No more than needed. On the occasion makes a trip to the others to see about their status and plans
Storyteller: After several days, you sight it, Mind of Wind; the orderly configuration of towns belies the Hundred Kingdoms.
Storyteller: Small farming villages do their work far out near the borders, leading up to the capital city of Nishio, far in the mists, hundreds of miles away.
Mind of Wind: Wind flies the area for the better part of the day, taking in the sights, defenses, fortifications, and begins another journey to the others to pass on what this day of aerial scouting has taught him of the initial encounter
Storyteller: The fortifications are weak at the edges, stronger near the center city.
Storyteller: In fact, it's very doubtful you could take Nishio in a straight assault.
Gyrkan: With this news, a simple question is asked of Wind. "Do we use puny words, or surround them, cut off their supplies and drive them to a slow death?" Either way, there would be much death, and his eyes spoke clearer than words.
Mind of Wind: Wind smiles "Battle is our way, I do wish one of the changing had come with us ... " his voices trails off in thought
Mind of Wind: "Surrounding would be a good preamble, and before we tighten the noose and leave them to hang to surrender, you and I might attempt negotiations with those in the center."
Mind of Wind: "If nothing else, the serpent might just be rendered headless for a day or so from it if they break down and you, at least, have left. You don't seem much of one for the air."
Storyteller: They continue their work in the fields, oblivious to your approach.
Gyrkan: "Our might will be our negotiations, eh?" He slaps his bird-attuned brother heavily between the shoulder blades. "No, the earth is my ally, not the skies."
Gyrkan: "But when we take the farms, and they will starve. We pollute the waters, so that only our resources are clean. They will have no choice. Join, or die."
Gyrkan: "But first, we need root out the Bull. Learn of him... for if we take out the farms, surround the capital, we might be attacked from behind by his forces."
Mind of Wind: "My mind can be as the winds, blowing over the most obvious of orders and focused only on the glories. Yes, let us seek him out and get an insider...
Mind of Wind: Sure, I pondered slipping into the capital building at night and ripped the leader to shreds, but it will serve a little better and give a better edge in our battles."
Gyrkan: Gyrkan bowed his head, satisfied with his allies words. "We need a defensible position here, we need the capital. A slow death for them will mean a quick death for us, from the Bull. Send in your infiltrators, if you can."
Mind of Wind: Wind nodded, calling a few select beastmen. They, with him, would set out to determine the strength of the Bull’s influence. Negotiations had never been a terribly strong point of his, but perhaps the other means would work as well.
Mind of Wind: "Have you any direct interest in the Bull at this point?" he asks before departing from the tent.
Gyrkan: "My interest lies in misleading the Bull... he has many forces, we need to get them away from us so that we can gather these forces, bring them under the heel of our Lord. Distraction is what we need."
Mind of Wind: "Perhaps the bird shall take to harassing the Bull while a shell covers the sun of the captial. Waste not want not, bird to bull, shell to center."
Gyrkan: "YES!" In his enthusiasm, he brought meaty fist down onto a table, shattering it into wood chips. "We will do this! We will kill, and claim this land as a trophy for our Lord!"
Gyrkan: "Let it begin brother, let it begin!"
Mind of Wind: "It shall be then, it shall be with all the renown" Wind Of Mind lets loose a laugh at his sib's antics and goes to his troops, their actions decided.
Gyrkan: Black, massive non reflective long shields. Enough for an army. The secret weapon was to be unveiled! Gyrkan had planned this, the invisible onslaught of the night. And it would begin, so very soon.
Storyteller: The wisdom of the wild! The forces of civilization wouldn't think of such a plan; couldn't comprehend the true darkness of night if they rely on oil-lamps and sun-mimicries.
Mind of Wind: Mind of Wind goes to his troops and they immediately depart for the Bull. To hide in the day and strike when the defenders are the weakest. They move with all haste to ensure the success of Gyrkan's.
Mind of Wind: Wind ponders on directly meeting Bull, trying to bring him to heel, mocking him directly.
Storyteller: As a note, you don't know where the Bull of the North is, and although he may have influence in the Hundred Kingdoms, it's rumored more that he's in the north, near Halta, perhaps.
Storyteller: Preventing the Bull's spies from leaving would indeed be a memorable blow.
Mind of Wind: The troops circle the area around Gyrkan's and strike the moment even a single traveler appears in their section
Mind of Wind: "NOTHING will get out" Wind says to his troops, "Only their souls will escape in death."
Gyrkan: No drums. No chanting. Even the panting, breathing masses of the beastmen was silent this night, as the fear of their snarling commander and the tongues he had collected around his belt ruled them.
Gyrkan: A slow, absolutely quiet march on the first town. Luna was hidden, as was her children.
Storyteller: The town is closed up for the night; the doors sealed against wolves and bandits, but with no true defenses against the force you bring. Watchmen observe the area, but they watch the roads an army would march down; not the forests.
Storyteller: A middle-aged man opens his door, light streaming out as he stumbles into the darkness behind his home to relieve himself.
Storyteller: A lamp flickers to life as a child wakes and screams in his sleep, and the mother shushes him back to sleep.
Storyteller: All the while, the invisible force advances. So many targets...the undefended fields, the weak houses, the small barracks and armory, and the short watchtower.
Gyrkan: Footsteps, gentle but many, are at least partially obscured by the heavy winds. The biting cold strikes at men, but the warriors of the Serrated Barricade know nothing but blood lust.
Gyrkan: Houses are surrounded, but no move is made to advance. The watchtower is the first on the agenda.
Storyteller: From the watchtower comes...singing. Passing the time, keeping spirits up as they stare into the darkness...searching all the wrong places for the approaching force.
Mind of Wind: Mind of Wind flies silently on owl wings, looking over the peaceful village, imaging the blood that will soon coat the ground. He lands briefly on the farthest watch town. Soon he mutters and takes flight again.
Gyrkan: Leaving the shelter of the trees, shielded beastmen crept on towards the tower, several moving to plant themselves against the walls.
Gyrkan: First the scalers, who would break through windows and open the doors for the rest. The thirst for blood was to be fulfilled.
Storyteller: Then the damage is swift, but painful. The town's defenses rely heavily on warning the troops to action; the watchtower only boasts flimsy glass and a barred door to keep opponents out.
Storyteller: A cry goes up, then is cut off - and a body, or most of one, sails off the balcony to splash on the ground below.
Gyrkan: Gyrkan watches his men, silent killers, do their job. The trees provide him cover, his dark eyes glaring out at the fortifications of his enemy. After his men swarmed the tower, the barracks were next.
Storyteller: The beastmen reach the barracks swiftly - by the time the town's defenders get there, they are being hunted by the troops already within the barracks. Most scatter and flee; some do attack out of desperation.
Storyteller: One beastman does fall, the victim of a lucky strike with a heavy rock. But the attacker is swiftly cut down.
Gyrkan: The Serrated Barricade smirked, and upon reaching the scene, wrenched off the head of the one who killed his man.
Gyrkan: One meaty fist was all it took to crush the skull, blood still pouring out of the neck. He looked to the skies, not seeing his allies there.
Mind of Wind: Mind of Wind's men kept around the town, leaving so little space in the ranks not even a mouse was escaping with its life. Wind himself kept to the skys in his silent owl flight. As the blood spilled his own lust for it rose.
Storyteller: The battle is over before the town realizes what's going on, but that doesn't stop them from shouting and panicking, leaving their homes and bolting for the forests.
Mind of Wind: Always one for dramatics (at least with a good battle entrance) he stoops a victim and falls on them, shifting at the last moment before impact to shatter their body with the force his raw impact.
Storyteller: An army brought to take a village is hardly a fair fight, but obtaining a defensible position is critical. Their shouts are loud, but it's doubtful they will carry far enough to do any good. Certainly no scouts escape.
Gyrkan: With silent glee, Gyrkan gazed back at his men who held back. The Nightwall, he called them. They did their job, and the work was near flawless.
Gyrkan: Their reward was whatever they could get their hands on. If their leader had any sympathy left in him, he'd kill the women captured. But war was war.
Mind of Wind: Mind of Wind leads his troops in a dance for victory, indulging in the spoils wrought from the first of many battles. Let them enjoy it, many more at to come. he thinks and seeks out Gyrkan to tell him of the successful slaughter
Mind of Wind: of all who tried to run.
Gyrkan: The Serrated Barricade grunts as Mind of Winds lands besides him, silent as always. "This was nothing but a dainty snack, before the full meal. But sweet it was brother. Sweet it was."
Mind of Wind: Wind offer offers a few hearts from his victims, "Indeed, indeed, indeed, so sweet, so tasty. Let the men cry for more!"
Mind of Wind: "And with that cry, let it be answered well and give our thirst for battle be sated for just the night. Let it return the next day stranger than before."
Gyrkan: A low growl is emitted, as the towering man takes the morsels offered from Mind of Wind. "Let them cry? We'll let them ROAR!"
Storyteller: As a sour counterpoint to the celebration, several of the beastmen pause and grunt, staring off into the distance at a distant city.
Storyteller: A flickering yellow light streams from the city center, flashing and flaring with energy and power...then vanishes from sight.
Mind of Wind: Wind begins to chuckle, softly at first and over the course of the next few minutes, it grew into a roar of his own.

Beri

08-26-2005, 04:26 PM

Storyteller: Well then, we return to our story in progress, as your beastman troops have overtaken one of the bordertowns of the Hundred Kingdoms.
Mind of Wind: Ah yes, it was a good fight.
Storyteller: Not a tense fight, particularly after how engaging Ma-Ha-Suchi made the idea of conquest seem. Still, a victory is a victory.
Storyteller: And away in a town on the foothills, possibly the next in your path, was a golden flash of light which quickly faded back into night's darkness.
Gyrkan: "Trouble, when the night knows daylight," Gyrkan mumbles, sanding down his hands to scrape off the blood from callused digits.
Mind of Wind: "Perhaps, but eyes on winds know more than eyes on ground. Soon." Wind shifts to his owl form again and lifts from the ground.
Storyteller: The forest and town quickly drop away beneath you, and the town materializes out of the haze as you approach it.
Storyteller: This one is much more solid than the last. Actual barricades and a stone wall behind that.
Storyteller: Multiple good roads leading inward indicate that it is probably used as a trade hub - which means many wealthy people want to see it survive.
Mind of Wind: Wind moves on over the city, looking for any sign of disturbance that could result from that sudden burst of light.
Storyteller: There does seem to be a ripple - a flow of humanity, moving away from the central plaza and stage of the town. Something happened there, and these people decided they needed to act on it immediately.
Storyteller: Around the town, torches burn, and men and women alike drill with weapons and martial arts - unusual, certainly, for the middle of the night.
Mind of Wind: Wind presses on toward the center of the city, making note to tell his brother about the strangeness of this city
Storyteller: What do you look for? The populace doesn't seem frightened or hurried - rather, they move with a purpose, from the old men to the children.
Storyteller: Almost as if they're preparing for a raid...yet your last conquest took place hardly a half-hour ago.
Mind of Wind: Trying to see if he can't figure out where the blast of light came from.
Storyteller: The central stage of the town seems promising. Although nobody stands there currently, your predatory eyes notice that the wood, even the painted signs have been bleached white - as if left in the desert for years.
Storyteller: There is definitely a feel of power in the air.
Mind of Wind: Wind covers the rest of the city, looking at the fortifications, the drilling, and makes a sweep to see if any of the nobility are out.
Storyteller: The fortifications are not mighty - merely piled-up stones held by wood and sealed with mortar - but dense enough that you don't see any way to sneak around them, except by air.
Storyteller: And the drilling appears military - the style of 'civilization', to try to reduce combat to rote thrusts and moves instead of allowing the warriors to enjoy their primal instincts.
Storyteller: There's also a strange feeling you get, of being watched. Nobody turns their eyes to you, but there's just an odd feeling that the town is...aware.
Mind of Wind: Mind's instincts take over, he begins his trek back to their conquest. Carrying a long tale to his comrade. He keeps the feeling to himself but tells of the strange awareness of the town
Gyrkan: This poor, poor makeshift command tent. First a table, and now a chair gets crushed to bits. "They know!" he shouts, stalking up and down. "We'll have to find a way to attack them where they do not expect it."
Mind of Wind: Wind shakes his head "Those things don't grow on trees, I didn't think you enjoyed still on logs for conferences."
Mind of Wind: "But above or below, through the trees won't give anything more than a slap on the wrist and a split head."
Gyrkan: "What I enjoy, or will enjoy, will be to have my foes groveling at my feet! They will thank us when we present them the heads of their leaders... soon... soon." The Serrated Barricade glowers, but eventually calms down.
Gyrkan: "I say we stay here, give our men their spoils of war. When the sun sets tomorrow, we will have more blood to spill."
Gyrkan: Gyrkan hunches over, sitting on the floor next to the remains of a chair. "What method shall we crush them with, with Luna shining on us on the morrow, brother?"
Mind of Wind: Wind settles in a chair, steepling his fingers. "Above or below. Perhaps slipping a spy in, perhaps moving above and spiking through the ground."
Gyrkan: "Yes, they know we are coming, but they cannot know how. For we do not even know, hah!" The Serrated Barricade's guffaw is thunderous.
Gyrkan: "But I agree, your men are trained in stealth, and speed, mine, in the methodical destruction of all opposing life. Together, they cannot stop us."
Gyrkan: "If your troops can take out the sentries, prevent the full alert from spreading, mine can open the gates for our main forces."
Mind of Wind: "Today was overt. These people won't be as easily taken. We'd lose much of our forces in direct. A detachment striking quietly and fierce. We will disassemble them from the inside."
Mind of Wind: "Quiet will give way to the avalanche... hehehehhahahah!"
Mind of Wind: "It can be done, it shall be done. WITH GLORY IT WILL BE DONE!"
Gyrkan: Clapping the bird-man on the back, the man of shells grins widely. "Tomorrow, the true battle will begin! The true slaughter!"
Mind of Wind: Still enraptured he shouts his agreement, shaking the timbers of the tent.
Storyteller: In the meantime, your beastmen make themselves at home. They are eager to celebrate, but eager to please you - how far do you let them go?
Storyteller: Raising a cheer, although it may let that town know you're out here? Bonfires in celebration? Rapes and executions?
Storyteller: They keep it down. Men are gagged before being slain, children politely taken indoors to be cooked and eaten. An observer looking on from afar would say that the town seemed alive and healthy.
Mind of Wind: Wind tells his men to save a few for the follow up ruse tomorrow.
Gyrkan: The Serrated Barricade seconds this, for we will need screams a plenty tomorrow night.
Storyteller: And thus, time passes, you rest, loot the town, and all. In the distance, that suspicious city sits motionless, seemingly oblivious to the approaching threat.
Storyteller: And then, it's time to strike.
Gyrkan: There is no beat of meaty fist on shield, but a drumbeat exists in Gyrkan's heart as he sets his troops on their way. Dark tower shields forward, a mass of black streaming towards the torches of oblivion.
Storyteller: It's a bit of a march to get there, and as before, they do it in silence and shadow.
Mind of Wind: Wind takes those of his ranks that are gifted like him and they take to the skies seeking the city.
Mind of Wind: He gives orders that they are to kill like owls
Gyrkan: Gyrkan's main objective of the main forces, is to split them so that half can storm the town from the front, and half from the back. Thus, two gates will need to be opened, in blood letting silence.
Storyteller: On the winds of the East, they soar above the city's defenses, seeking out easy targets.
Storyteller: And as they approach, the town awakes. From every guard tower and every house, archers pour to stream a deadly rain into the sky. Several are caught in the first barrage.
Storyteller: Nearly simultaneously, a whistle goes up from the front gates, and the ground beneath Gyrkan's approach troops bursts into white flame -
Storyteller: a trap laid with oil and firedust, shattering their night vision, searing them and breaking their ranks.
Storyteller: From the city, a cheer arises - their defenders see their early victory and their hearts are stronger. In contrast, your troops scramble to reform their lines and find targets as arrows rain down from all angles.
Mind of Wind: Wind orders his troops to ascend as high and as fast as they can. This isn't as they planned. How did they know?
Gyrkan: And Gyrkan would have howled at the victory whoops of his enemies, if not for his current plants for secrecy. Dig, dig, dig.
Gyrkan: His specially picked silent killers ready to follow him in through the holes made. Time to see if the enemy knew of all their plans.
Mind of Wind: he also has them ascend over the center of the city. Perhaps a last minute change of tactics will help just a bit more.
Storyteller: The front gates open, just enough to allow the city's defenders to engage the bewildered troops in combat. Still, the match is even, tactical advantage versus pure animal rage.
Storyteller: If anything, the thumping and shouting of the troops only serves to cover up Gyrkan's approach.
Storyteller: You notice, flying over the center of the city, that those few troops that have been wounded thus far are being brought back to the city center, a makeshift hospital, it seems.
Mind of Wind: If Wind could smile, he would. He looks over the center carefully, looking to see what troops are stationed here.
Storyteller: It's a bit looser. Archers still watch your troops, although the higher they fly, the more trouble they seem to have following them. Ground troops just aren't able to avoid air assaults well.
Mind of Wind: Wind orders his troops even higher and to fly out of the city.
Mind of Wind: He has them head to where the fires blaze, look for things to grab, preferably ignited bodies to drop, setting duos to carry them
Storyteller: All of the above are available in good quantity.
Mind of Wind: Excellent.
Gyrkan: Gyrkan continues his furious digging, accompanied by the drumbeat of war from the shielded men surrounding the walls of the town. They can be patient, for they know they will taste blood tonight.
Storyteller: You're getting close, Gyrkan...you can feel the moon above you, leading you on, shining on your path even as you hide beneath the earth.
Gyrkan: And the earth is the greatest shell of all, and it beats with a life all its own. The blood of the land pulses, and the Serrated Barricade feels every vibration from the stomping and the crashing above.
Mind of Wind: Wind takes to the air, carrying a burning corpse and calls his men to follow and bring death to the infidels
Storyteller: A wise choice. The projectiles lack accuracy and weight of impact, but they make up for it in the terror they inflict on the enemy lines.
Storyteller: Where a body hits, the crowd backs away, rippling like stones dropped in a pond.
Storyteller: If you want their attention, you've got it. Now, arrows fly up even when your air troops are out of range, reflecting the defenders' distraction. The more important ground troops begin to gain more footing.
Mind of Wind: As the bodies fall, Wind gives a second order for a cycle, to keep at least a small flow of this distraction on the city.
Storyteller: Above Gyrkan, the thumping grows somewhat softer, not as direct. A clearing, perhaps...maybe the town square, or the inside of a building above you.
Gyrkan: Preparing himself for being heavily assaulted, the Serrated Barricade calls on every last ounce of his great fortitude, his inner reserves of strength and protection.
Gyrkan: Then, as the surface thins out above, he pounces, attempting to leap out of the hole made to lightly thud upon the solid ground.
Storyteller: You erupt from the earth in a shower of stone and dust, and you do indeed fly out of the hole and thud upon the ground.
Storyteller: But the force of your flight is not your own legs, but a mighty uppercut delivered by the cestus of a muscled man, light-skinned but heavily scarred.
Storyteller: The defenders of the city have formed a circle around him, and you land near the center.
Gyrkan: At first, it is shock in those wide, gruesome eyes of Gyrkans. But quickly, as the circle of men looms around him. he laughs low, a deep and morbid rumble.
Gyrkan: "A greeting party. My thanks." Sneering, he wipes the blood from his chin, and smears it down the sides of his face. Then, with practiced precision, he takes his stance.
Storyteller: The man stands back, and the crowd draws close, as if his energy was their lifeblood. "Get out of here," he shouts in heavily accented Riverspeak. "We're ready to kick your ass back to the Wyld if we have to."
Gyrkan: Shields strapped to his arms are in one fluid motion ripped off into either hand. "My ass stays here, until no one is left to utter one ill word against the chosen of Luna. Bid farewell to your people. It is time."
Gyrkan: And so he begins the process of stretching himself out, his arms becoming like the branches of the tree.
Gyrkan: The blades on the edges of his shields glistening, as the whirlwind is set in motion. The Serrated Barricade begins his namesake.
Storyteller: The man clashes his cesti together, sparks flying off them. "That ain't even good trash talk. Bring it, monkey-boy!"
Gyrkan: With laughter does he strike, not only at the man in front of him, but at all those around him in a flurry of motion.
Gyrkan: His jagged shield-blades slice towards the circle around him with his left arm, while his second shield launches at the cesti wielder.
Storyteller: Your blades cut down two men and a woman - the man isn't fast enough to stop that, but he drops under your other shield and delivers a powerful body blow to your midsection.
Storyteller: Painful, but only stunning, not even enough of a wound to draw blood.
Storyteller: "At least I know what kind of person I'm dealing with. What's yer name, so I know what to write on my win sheet?"
Gyrkan: "Is that all, are you the champion of your people? Civilization has made you weak. Know that you face the Gyrkan, the Serrated Barricade, and that my eyes will be your last sight."
Gyrkan: Through the pain, his grimace more of a leer, he follows through with the shield that sliced through the circling men and women around him and attempts to wrap it around his main foe.
Storyteller: "I gave up being a champion a long time ago. I'm just one of the people, and the name's Javelin."
Storyteller: "On the other hand -" and suddenly, a motion quick as lightning, his cestus cuts deep into your shoulder, even as he falls into your embrace - "The Sun's given me the right stuff to stop you, and that's what I've gotta do."
Gyrkan: Screaming in rage, and a sick sort of pleasure, Gyrkan turns his sound of agony into a twisted cackle. "Now is not the time of the sun. Know the full fury of the brightest face of Luna!"
Gyrkan: Biting his own lip, so that blood froths over, he slams his elongated arm that he had initially attacked Javelin with straight down towards the man's skull. If Gyrkan is lucky, a surprise strike.
Storyteller: The man grunts, straining against you, but faltering. The people on the sidelines inch closer to aid him, but hesitate before getting into your blade range. "You're wrong."
Storyteller: That's all he gets out before your arm comes down, and he slumps down, rolling onto the ground.
Gyrkan: "That is right, kneel before your master, little firefly!" And while one shield bearing hand is used to attempt to fend off the circle of warriors around him, the other seeks to lacerate this fallen man.
Storyteller: Suddenly, the circle is not afraid. They rush forward, raining blows down upon you with swords and spears.
Storyteller: Certainly, your shields and blades make them more than pay, but their anger is absolute, and even untrained cuts are painful.
Gyrkan: Each stab, each slice, burns deep in Gyrkan, fueling his inner fires. "You cannot stop us! This town, this world will fall under our Lord's rule!"
Storyteller: And as you fend them off, you see Javelin, standing unharmed, glaring at you. You realize why he allowed himself to stumble before - because every blow that the townsfolk lay on you is a mortal's blow, not Exalted. Javelin can only fight you…but by stirring the hearts of the people, his power can make all mighty.
Storyteller: You knew that running into one of the Exalted would be a threat, but this...this is just humiliating!
Storyteller: Mind of Wind, you do of course see this commotion from your vantage point. In fact, most other combat has stopped, as the war comes down to champion versus champion.
Mind of Wind: Mind of Wind hovers above Gyrkan. Watching intently
Mind of Wind: He will back up his comrade and see to their victory
Mind of Wind: He moves behind Javelin and lands, reassuming a more human form, but keeping talons for his fingers. He moves in at an opening and strikes.
Storyteller: Your talons grate along his cestus as he parries, throwing up a painful shower of sparks. Another strike gets through, finally drawing blood from his side. He backs off, grinning as he moves to keep both Lunars in view.
Storyteller: As you enter the fight, the feeling of a 'one-on-one' battle is somewhat broken, and your beastmen engage the enemy troops anew.
Mind of Wind: "I'm not letting you take ALL the glory my brother. FIGHT ON!"
Storyteller: The front gate opens, most of the defenders having pulled back, but the front gate is no longer the most important objective. The carnage continues, but a victor is uncertain.
Gyrkan: Gyrkan seeks to prevent Javelin from seeing both his attackers, his shame at being so easily pushed aside great. His brother in arms' arrival strengthens him however.
Gyrkan: "Yes... YES! Your fake claws are no match for our primal FURY!" Anew, he springs into action, seeing to with one shield blade distract him into making an opening, while lunging in to trip him with his stretched out limbs.
Mind of Wind: Mind of Wind moves with Gyrkan and with his movements, syncs and strikes. "Feel Luna's Wrath Bitch!"
Storyteller: Javelin hesitates in deciding which attack to avoid first, and that hesitation costs him. Your limbs hit, and he sprawls on the ground, quickly shifting himself to one knee - almost as dangerous, but not as mobile.
Storyteller: Even as he loses, his people gain strength, inspired by their need to aid him. A howl arises from the beastmen as their front line is cut down.
Storyteller: Mind of Wind's strike follows a pair of scars already traced across Javelin's chest, drawing new blood as he rolls back through the dirt to come to his feet.
Storyteller: He is bloody, dirty, but not hurt, and now his anima banner spills forth, sheathing him in light as he lunges like a diving eagle to thrust his blazing cestus through Mind of Wind's thigh.
Gyrkan: Their is a sudden rush of air, as Gyrkan's mighty lungs take in a massive breath. He howls, a most fearsome and blood curdling sound, a scream of victory assumed. A call of leadership, to make his men bolder.
Gyrkan: And while his breath is preoccupied, his hands move as well, not in the attack, but in defense of his flighty brother. Shields zoom around Javelin, not going in for the kill, but to prevent his blows from landing on Mind of Wind.
Mind of Wind: Mind of Wind shrieks feeling the blade entering his body, but allows the fury to fill him and give more power to his blows
Storyteller: Javelin's extended cestus is deflected, but he whirls about like a hurricane, a meaty fist slamming into Mind of Wind's chest and slamming him back into the surrounding troops.
Storyteller: He exhales deeply, the furious attack apparently having taken some of his strength.
Gyrkan: Like a beast, like the predator Gyrkan is, he smells the weakness of his foe. But instead of directly assaulting him with flailing arms, he takes a mighty leap over the man, one shield acting in his defense.
Gyrkan: He saves his other assault for the last moment, sending a willowy limb jutting backwards into where he hopes his enemy will be.
Storyteller: The attack hits, and Javelin stumbles forward with the force of the blow. He sucks in air through clenched teeth - and in so doing, grows stronger, drinking of the rage and the essence that surrounds him.
Storyteller: He turns to face you, his anima now glowing, towering as a figure of a golden warrior with a javelin in each arm, his burning eyes glaring at you as he takes aim.
Storyteller: Beneath the fiery display, the man Javelin makes a simple 'come on' motion with an outstretched hand.
Mind of Wind: Mind Of Wind flies into the crowd, rights himself and launches right back into the fight with javelin. He takes to flight and gets above Javelin then falls on him with his hands and feet talons, raking down onto him.
Gyrkan: The Serrated Barricade does his hardest to be the target for Javelin, his arms snapping forward and back as he circles around his foe. "You are weak! Your people are weak! Die, fool!"
Storyteller: And he goes for it. Years of pit-fighting have trained him that, when your foe shows off, you strike to make them look bad. It's more about show than force.
Storyteller: That's why he lunges forward, easily parrying Gyrkan's blows and slipping a cestus into his shoulder.
Storyteller: And why Mind of Wind is able to strike him nearly from behind, shredding muscle and skin as he slides down the champion's body.
Storyteller: And with that, it's over. If this were some children’s tale, the hero would rise again, get his second wind, and strike down the evil beastmen. But reality does not always make a good story.
Storyteller: Javelin goes down to his knees, blood covering him. He glares up at you with fury, but with his muscles shredded, his arms refuse to move.
Mind of Wind: Mind of Wind stands over the body and plunges his hands into the body.
Storyteller: He screams, and his anima flickers and fades as your talons rip at him again.
Storyteller: The people are now backing away from you, their morale faltering. You don't need to hear your beastmen cheer as the tide of battle turns.
Gyrkan: Gyrkan follows Javelin down to his knees, keeping the man's cestus in his shoulder and hugging the dying man to him as the blood splatters from the attacks from behind. His laughter is truly sickening.
Mind of Wind: He grabs his heart and rips it out of his body. "This is the end for you. You are now my, our, strength."
Storyteller: Blood gurgles up his throat as he shouts to his countrymen. "Fight on! I'm just another soldier, it's the war that matters!"
Storyteller: And in thick, sticky red spurts, the life disappears from him.
Gyrkan: Be that as it may, his noble words gurgled and said, Gyrkan does not let the final words be beautiful at all.
Gyrkan: As soon as the heart is ripped free, Gyrkan grips the man, and spins him around so that his blood sprays all those surrounding him.
Gyrkan: Another throaty roar follows the act, as his face contorts in delighted pain. "KILL THEM ALL!"
Mind of Wind: Mind Of Wind rips the heart in half and offers one half to Gyrkan. Blood dripping from all over him, from it.
Storyteller: Kill them all, and let the gods sort them out. I hope Luna brought a spatula.
Storyteller: The bloodshed here is not clean, as it was in the prior city. Not quick.
Storyteller: For every inch of ground you gain, a family takes up arms against the beastmen and dies.
Storyteller: Houses burn, to ensure they provide no safety to survivors. The weak die first, easy targets before the strong are torn asunder.
Gyrkan: The gift is accepted, as gracious as a towering monstrosity can be. Gyrkan's meaty fist shoves the muscle down into his throat, letting the blood spill out of his mouth. Then, the whirlwind of death continues.
Mind of Wind: Mind Of Wind holds his half of the heart high and let's loose a cry and returns to his troops above to bring death down from above, heart blood dripping from his recent meal
Storyteller: The wise, who try to flee, are picked up and destroyed. Swiftly, the town is a blackened wasteland, everything of value having been taken or slaughtered.
Storyteller: Another stronghold in the war of Ma-Ha-Suchi, this one much more powerful. Many more leaps will be needed before the Hundred Kingdoms could be said to be controlled...even said to be threatened, by the Lunars.
Storyteller: But for now, enjoy the taste of victory, and bid your troops to celebrate. You've done well for your lord.
Storyteller: Such was the bloodshed which rained down, in Realm Year 771.
Storyteller: --------------

Beri

09-07-2005, 09:22 AM

Session 20.1: Realm Year 772

Rising Sun, Dawn Caste
Kara Laditaken, Chosen of the Maiden of Battles

For months, Kara had endured her imprisonment with a small box, perhaps five feet in every dimension, with bars of glossy black steel. Her few escape attempts left her hands burned, and herself drained of essence. In fact, her essence reserves were entirely drained, and her hope for escape was dwindling as well as the months passed.

The cage sat in the center of a dim room. The walls were barely at the edge of perception, and sometimes they looked like brick, other times stone, other times hideous constructions from Kara's imagination. And spaced around the room, three soldiers stood watch, corpses which she had never seen move as much as an inch, yet gave a distinct sense of being alive.

So she waited.

Only one event broke her monotony. A woman entered her room, pulling up a stool with an air of weariness. Her hair was tousled, her skin mottled, as if she had survived some horrible childhood disease with only the slimmest of margins. Kara recognized her as one of the dark Sidereals who had defeated her long ago, and taken her to this dark place.

Festering Mark of Contagion, she was called. She explained the philosophy of the dark Sidereals – those who were once the Directional Convention of Wood. Frustrated with the constant change, decay, and chaos inherent in life and the Loom of Fate, they sought out a way that they could bring true stability to Creation. And they found it in the Underworld, where none have to fear death, all are immortal, and all monuments stand forever until the day they are no longer meaningful. A land ruled by logic, unchanging emotion, and order, rather than the fickle beings of Creation. A land where true stability could finally rule – but only if Creation were to fall away into nothingness.

Each pledging herself to a Deathlord, the five of the Convention of Wood became forces of darkess. They willingly gave up their names, as well as half of their celestial essences, keeping the most powerful parts of their essence to themselves. The other halves returned to Yu-Shan, where they were free to once again seek out the world's most meaningful mortals for Exaltation...the five who had become the new Convention of Wood.

Festering Mark of Contagion offered Kara the opportunity to turn, but admitted that she did not expect the light in her heart to go out so soon. Her work done, she walked away, fading into the darkness from which she had come. But before she left, she had one more thought for Kara.

“You are Chosen of the Maiden of Battles, as am I. But I have learned that this gift is a lie. There is no need for Battles, conflict, war, and death. I reject the name of Mars, and embrace a life where I am no longer called to orchestrate the chaos and destruction of battle. Think on this, and realize that your purpose, and the purpose of all Sidereals, lies here with us.”

Above, in Creation, Rising Sun, the Dawn Caste Solar Exalted, met with Shen Aru, leader of the Cult of the Illuminated. Vision of Light had fallen, so they met in the Southeast, where the Cult of the Illuminated had another growing stronghold. Through encounters over the last five years, Rising Sun found himself in possession of two things – a map of the Underworld leading to his long-lost allies, and a single ring of pure orichalcum.

He spoke to Shen Aru, asking for advice about the lands of the dead. Shen Aru sent off to Sijan for a funeral shroud, so that Rising Sun might pass among the dead as one of their own. But Rising Sun needed the smell of death upon him. A corpse was exhumed; a recently dead warrior of the Cult who had fallen in a hunt. The cloth was peeled back from his rotting face, and Rising Sun took possession of the stinking shroud. The shroud from Sijan, new, pure, and beautiful, was wrapped around the corpse in his place, and again he sank into the earth.

The first step was to enter the fallen city of Thorns, lost seven years ago to the Mask of Winters. With his shroud wrapped around him, Rising Sun entered the Shadowland and watched the sun fall. Certainly, the spies of the Mask of Winters saw him, but they did not harass him. One by one, ghosts appeared from the dreams of night, as the sun's light no longer touched the ground. Soon, Rising Sun stepped into the true Underworld, wrapped in a shroud of the dead.

His first obstacle was finding passage to Stygia. A boatman was easy to find, and asked for a moderate fee, but when Rising Sun tried to pay, his jaw dropped. “This is real money, not grave goods! Where did you get this?” Rising Sun pressed several dinars into his hand, desperate to shut him up before he called the guards, and it worked. Soon, Rising Sun was in a shallow boat being poled along with a gaunt, dark figure. And mere minutes later, they were drawing up to the shores of the great corpse-city of Stygia.

His next checkpoint was the Mouth of the Void itself, some 1000 miles journey through the lands of the dead. And so Rising Sun walked, fueled by the burning essence of the sun he carried with him, untiring and unsleeping through the hordes of the dead. Only once did he falter; when hunger overtook him weeks into his journey.

But as he dreamed of fine fish and wine, a boar ran past, snorting wildly. And, very close behind, a shirtless man chased the board with his spear held high. Grinning, Rising Sun drew his powerbow and unleashed a precise shaft, instantly slaying the boar.

“Hey!” said the man. “I've been hunting that boar for over three decades. My grave goods, my entertainment, is destroyed! How will you repay me?”

And...well, I actually forget what Rising Sun did here. It was a few days ago.

Anyway, the Mouth of the Void! He had been warned that this was the center of the Underworld, the jewel of the Deathlords, but if anything, security seemed lax. A skeleton crew, pardon the pun. The ground floor was secure, but as an Exalt, Rising Sun hardly paused a second before vaulting up to the rooftops and onto the great dome which covered the Mouth.

Beneath him, he heard whispering, heavy breathing...his name, carried on a moist wind. He tied his rope to a skylight, and lowered himself down into Oblivion.

His map told him to seek the tunnel with the sign of the Corpse. Rapidly, though, everything fell into darkness, and no signs were seen. His rope began to tremble as hot breath rushed past him, then swing, and soon he was out of control, being bashed against the walls of the Mouth of the Void, knowing that he could not release his rope, for true Oblivion lay beneath.

A violent swing caused him to lose his grip, but he tumbled hard into a side passage, knocking his head on the floor. Stars swirled in his vision, and for an instant, the Constellation of the Corpse floated behind his eyes. A good sign.

Next, he sought to go 'through the wall that breathes'. Soon enough, he did come to a wall, rather unremarkable, made of brick and stone, except for the subtle expansion and contraction it made, almost as if breathing. Rising Sun stopped here, and took stock of his options.

More months had passed, and Kara led an absolutely unchanging existence. Nothing moved; nothing changed; not even dust gathered on the surfaces of her room.

Then, in a cloud of dust and masonry, Rising Sun shattered the roof of her prison, vaulted over the guards that rushed at him, and unleashed a flurry of flaming arrows that destroyed them utterly. He landed with a soft tap of leather, the entire conflict having taken perhaps nine seconds.

Looking upon Kara, realization slowly returned to him as the Arcane Fate pulled back slightly. He began working to free her from the soulsteel cage she lay within, but all his efforts were only met with failure, or worse, his own injury. He stepped back as Kara fumed, pondering his next move. Then he remembered the orichalcum ring on his finger.

With a mighty punch, Rising Sun decimated the bars of Kara's cage, tearing a hole wide enough for her escape. She crawled out of her hiding place, and Rising Sun brought her somewhat up to speed. Perhaps the most dramatic revelation was that she had not been imprisoned for five months, but for five years.

As Kara exited her cage, a heavy grinding noise came from above, and the room seemed to shift. Of course, she reflected – her cage was trapped. The hole that Rising Sun had made now only led to solid stone. They searched around the edges of the room, finally finding the door that the dark Sidereal had entered through, so long ago. With a push, it was opened, revealing a hallway of human flesh and hair, a gruesome passage which led into the deepest darkness they had ever seen. With no way to go back, they had to go forward...into the Labyrinth itself.

Beri

09-11-2005, 04:41 PM

Session 20.2: Shattering the Soulsteel Cage

Rising Sun, Dawn Caste
Fas'rial, Chosen of Journeys
Celeste, Chosen of Serenity
Gicer, Chosen of Secrets

Deep within the bowels of the Underworld, three more Sidereals waited in their cramped imprisonment. Their situation and their guards were similar to those who had guarded Kara. Each was visited by another – one of the dark Sidereals who had defeated them long ago in their ambush.

Fas'rial was visited by Mortality Stumbled, who was once a Chosen of Journeys himself. Young, blond-haired, and waif-thin, the boy's eyes nevertheless roiled with anger and wrath. “Life is a journey,” he began. “Death is a destination.”

“I organized your betrayal, ambush, and downfall. Do you hate me?” Fas'rial was silent, of course – with his Gem of Whispers having been taken from him, he could not respond, except with a momentary flash of anger over his face. “That's fine. Love and hate both end here, in the Underworld.”

“Journeys are illusions and lies. You have only one path. You will join us, and soon. But you'll have to walk at your own pace. This can be quick and painless, or you can rot here for centuries. I don't care.”

With that, the young archer left, and Fas'rial was again alone.

Gicer was visited by a more familiar face – Salesh Enoi, Chosen of Secrets. He wore not his resplendent Yu-Shan robes, but a mellow shroud of grey, marking him not as a leader, but merely another servant of the lords of the dead. “I am here,” was all he said.

Gicer asked why the Sidereals had done this, and Enoi responded that they had all grown frustrated and angry with the Loom of Fate. To toil for millenia on some esoteric tool, never making any true progress, just keeping Creation together. Bit by bit, through the Usurpation, the Contagion, the Balorian Crusade, Creation fell a bit further each day. Eventually Salesh Enoi realized that fighting this decay was pointless; in fact, it was the destiny of all of Creation to fall back into chaos and the Wyld.

Creation has no right to exist, Enoi said. Humanity and all it has made are merely playthings of the Primordials; passing curiosities that have outlived their usefulness. Does the painting complain when the painter lets it fade and disappear? No.

The only real things are those still buoyed by the necessities of the Primordials; the demon-realm of Malfeas, where the Yozis live, and the Malfeans who slumber, dead, beneath the world and grant their power to those who worship them. One realm of living Primordials, one realm of dead Primordials – and Creation, in the middle, is merely an afterthought, an unnecessary byproduct which should be cut away and discarded.

The Chosen of Secrets actually gave away many of his secrets to Gicer. Perhaps that was the nature of these twisted Sidereals.

Celeste was visited by Blasphemy of Starlight, the sorceress who had struck down Fas'rial at their last battle. She entered wearing robes depicting broken and changed constellations, mockeries of the true skies set into place by the Five Maidens. In a lilting voice, she looked past Celeste, and gave her prophecy.

“I see...light. A great weave, cut from the threads of the world's life, but not of Creation. The Loom fades, the Calendar of Setesh rises.”
“You are my half. We are one essence. But you are a child of Serenity, and I have learned that humans deserve not serenity. These are the truths the stars have whispered, and truths they be. Soon, you will stand by my side, sister. Battle your soul if you wish, the truth can wait.” And then, like a whisper on the wind, she was gone.

And so the Sidereals endured, for many months.

Entering into the Labyrinth, Rising Sun had to deal with many new difficulties, all beyond his ability to control. Passing through a patch of purest darkness, he emerged to find Kara no longer by his side. A hallway of blades threatened to slice him, but he leapt and dodged through with the narrowest of margins as swords and axes, seemingly growing out of the walls, scythed through the air inches behind him.

Beyond that chamber lay a huge, open, spherical room, one filled with vapors which choked at Rising Sun's eyes and lungs. Turning to escape, he found his path blocked. A sharp voice called from the darkness above.

“Ennikan can guide you...Ennikan knows the ways, sun-child.”

Rising Sun coughed, and refused the offer, not trusting the denizens of the Underworld. But what choice did he have? The room was perfect, inescapable, and the poison growing stronger by the second. In his frustration, he drew back an arrow along his orichalcum powerbow, charged it with its own wisdom, and unleashed the blazing projectile toward the floor.

It ricocheted off – much to Rising Sun's disappointment. But by ricocheting, it streaked around the room, filling the area with warm sunlight. A screech came from above.

“Ennikan doesn't like you! Sun-child wants to hurt Ennikan with sun-light! Go, then, no friends here for you!”

The floor opened, a great, gaping maw, and Rising Sun leapt down. He landed in a small chamber, from which three doors led – one with the sign of Mercury, one of Jupiter, and one of Venus. Knowing that these symbols were somehow important to his quest, he chose the path of Venus.

Celeste had spent the last few weeks practicing her swearing. Since she was skilled in linguistics, she had quite a list. She had exhausted Riverspeak (which, being the language of Nexus, took several months) and Old Realm, and was starting work on Forest-tongue, when suddenly, Rising Sun was there.

Wasting not even a moment, the guards leapt into action. Rising Sun twisted away from their blows and unleashed a flurry of blazing light, the flaming arrows tearing into the bodies of the undead soldiers. They tumbled to the earth, a pile of ashes, leaving their dark steel blades behind.

With a strike, Rising Sun destroyed the wall of Celeste's cage, and she happily climbed out. Rising Sun instructed her to roll in the dust and ash left behind when the soldiers had burned – a way to prevent the dead from detecting that the living walked among them. Celeste didn't waste much time with questions – her imperative was to escape this realm entirely, and so she and Rising Sun went forward.

Their next choice was a chamber marked with Mercury and Jupiter. Rising Sun chose Mercury.

Fas'rial had been imprisoned as long as anyone else, but he did not even retain the dignity to complain about his situation, as his voice had left along with his Gem of Whispers. He meditated for long hours and days, trying to puzzle out a solution, or at least a way to overcome his own impotence. And then, Rising Sun and Celeste were there.

Rising Sun took the lead, and Celeste followed. Of course, the Solar was more effective – he still had most of his essence, and carried an orichalcum powerbow, while Celeste was drained dry of essence, and carried one of the swords the fallen guards had dropped. She was nearly as weak as a mortal, but still she scored some solid blows before Rising Sun incinerated his foes.

Fas'rial emerged from his cage, picked up a pair of swords, and scratched out some messages in the dust, eager to know where the rest of his Circle had gone to. Rising Sun instructed him, as he had Celeste, to roll in the grave-ash, then they found the hidden door along the wall and forced it open.

Behind this door was a dark passage, leading off into nothingness. Hesitantly, they stepped forward into the darkness, weapons held ready. Beneath them, the floor began to glow a dim green, light dancing along the walls to the floor to congeal...in the shape of Jupiter. Then there was a green flash, and they were gone.

Gicer blinked, straining to see the guards at the corners of his room. Somehow, the undead soldiers were gone – replaced by Celeste, Fas'rial, and Rising Sun! Then the real guards fell from the air above them, and the battle was on.

Again, the Sidereals suffered from their lack of weapons or essence, but their aid was still invaluable to Rising Sun. Fas'rial threw a sword to Gicer, and Gicer hurled the blade through the bars of his cage at one of his foes. Much like the previous battles – indeed, much like any battle involving the Exalted – it was over in mere seconds, nothing left but dust in the air and the heat of fading essence.

Rising Sun helped Gicer out of his cage, then called the Sidereals together to speak to them. Their imprisonment had not been for five months, as they thought, but five years! The Sidereals paused in thought...why had their evil counterparts trapped them here in the Underworld? What was so important, that they would put such effort into keeping them away from Creation for half a decade?

Unfortunately, there was no time to ponder the situation. As long as they remained in the Underworld, they were weak and in danger. They found the secret door melded into the wall of the chamber, and tore it open. Kara was still lost, and Rising Sun's map didn't indicate the way they were to escape, so their only option was to dive once again into the Labyrinth, and hope they might be lucky enough to survive.

Beri

09-18-2005, 12:44 PM

Session 21: Into the Light

Fas'rial, Chosen of Journeys
Celeste, Chosen of Serenity
Kara, Chosen of Battles
Gicer, Chosen of Secrets
Elentari, Chosen of Endings
Rising Sun, Dawn Caste

Pushing open the hidden doorway subtly worked into the masonry of Gicer's prison chamber, the Circle was met with nothingness...darkness, the black depths of the labyrinth. With little other option, they locked hands, Rising Sun leading their advance into a darkness that snuffed out all light.

Slowly, agonizingly, they crawled forward, as wind rushed by them. No, not wind...breath. Hot, warm, and moist, it rolled across them, dampening their hair and clothes as they pushed onward, now definitely feeling the presence of something near...something alive...something ancient.

Then Rising Sun ran into a wall. A solid stone wall, about 10 feet high and well constructed. Looking behind them, they realized there was a wall behind as well. Above and below, a stone cube. But where mortals would see a prison, the Exalted saw only a minor inconvenience. With blazing fists and feet, they set to work dismantling the stonework. Finally, with a leaping kick, Fas'rial shattered the floor of the room, and everyone was thrown off balance as the whole thing collapsed.

Elsewhere in the labyrinth – or maybe the same place, who knows? - Kara stumbled forward in darkness. Having lost Rising Sun, she now pushed her way upwards through a warm, rushing river, following the distant sound of a waterfall. She was still sore from her imprisonment, and lacked enough essence even to shine her caste mark for illumination. Finally, she reached the waterfall, the source of her guiding sound, and after trying to inspect the area as best she could without light, she found that the waterfall concealed another passage, and she pushed through into it.

Elsewhere, Elentari sat cramped in her cage. She had not been with the Sidereals when Salesh Enoi had ambushed them, instead being away at her meditations. But they had tracked her down anyway, fought her and incapacitated her, and dragged her away to the Underworld. Whereas the other Sidereals at least had a sense of companionship in their shared misfortune – a sense of hope – Elentari had little to hope for.

Thus it was a great surprise when the floor of her chamber erupted in a shower of blood, and Kara emerged, coated with a sticky red mess. The guards leapt into action. Kara fought well, but she lacked essence to activate her Charms. She was forced to fight at a mortal level, and at that level, she was quickly overpowered. She did take the head off one undead soldier, however.

Moments later, the ceiling caved in, and down fell Fas'rial, Gicer, Rising Sun, and Celeste (who landed on Kara). Still weak, but with their essence still strong, they made quick work of the soldiers, Rising Sun again doing the majority of the work in a flurry of essence-flame. The Sidereals all helped, however – even Elentari, who performed a ruse in which she pretended to kill Gicer and pledge herself to evil. Although the guards didn't exactly buy it, they were distracted long enough, and they didn't have to ponder the situation much longer.

Introductions were in order, then. Celeste and Rising Sun had never met Elentari Rana, the Chosen of the Maiden of Endings, and it had been months since the others had last seen her on the Blessed Isle. In fact, Elentari had often been their last hope at rescue, so seeing her here imprisoned was disheartening...then again, the rescue was already coming to a close, so they were overjoyed to again complete their Circle.

But as Elentari exited her cage, the room warped and shifted. Perhaps it was a trap, like Kara's cage, or perhaps the work of one who knew how to wield the Labyrinth better than they. The second option became more likely as a laughing, chittering voice echoed from the dark.

“Ennikan is here, sun-child! Child refused Ennikan's help, so Ennikan found someone more appreciative!”

Black torches burning with corpse-fire ignited along the hallways of the chamber they stood in – a tube of black obsidian, stretching from darkness behind them to darkness ahead. And at the front, a man in soulsteel armor, a soulsteel daiklave in his hand, and a caste mark on his forehead then bled, drop by drop, as if it were weeping.

Stepping forward, he spoke. Although he could not understand why his masters would leave their prize captives virtually unguarded, but he knew that any move they made must be playing right into their hand. But he would be remiss in his duties if he simply allowed them to pass. It was obligation that drove him as he rushed forward, his sword a whirl of black death, his fist blossoming into the black essence-feathers of a dying raiton.

And as his fist met Gicer's sword for the first blow, the chamber shattered, the obsidian tube becoming a hail of man-sized chunks of black glass. The battle entered free-fall, as Gicer parried the blow, but his sword shattered in the process. All combatants leapt back to the falling platforms of black stone – falling into nothingness, it seemed – then tensed and struck at each other again.

Gicer and Fas'rial both attempted to grapple with the Abyssal, but his movements were quick and unpredictable. To slow him down, Fas'rial kicked the ground beneath him, breaking the platform the Abyssal stood on in half. Elentari again attempted to convince the man that she was willing to join with him and turn to the darkness, which drew his attention for a moment. Rising Sun attempted to use the opportunity to unleash a devastating Solar Spike, but due to the Abyssal's interference, rolled a botch. Instead, his arrow hit one of the obsidian platforms, and it shattered, wounding Fas'rial, Gicer, and Elentari as it exploded.

Celeste stayed behind the melee, meditating and watching the battle proceed. She was the first to look beneath them, and see the strangest sight. It appeared that a miniature map of Creation was far, far below them – but approaching fast. As she looked down and watched their movement, she realized that they were all falling towards a shadowland – specifically, the dead city of Thorns.

His first assault having failed, the Abyssal vaulted over his attackers to land in front of Elentari, his sword glowing red. Her hands still burned with the Horrific Wreath she had used to attack him moments ago. “So, you claim to be evil,” he said. “Is that so? Well, let's bring you on the path to darkness, by giving my masters a gift!”

And in a heartbeat, his blade had scythed through Elentari's shoulder, cleanly severing her arm. Blood shot out and hung in the air as Elentari stumbled back, shocked.

In a rage, the other Sidereals rushed at the Abyssal, but Celeste insisted they had other problems. Below them, Creation was approaching – and approaching fast. They all gathered together on a single slab of obsidian, and held together – Rising Sun had a plan. As Creation rushed up from below, he let his essence unfurl into golden sails around him, using the platform itself as the mast. The wind caught the sails, and slowed their descent, but the city of Thorns rushed up to meet them. The Abyssal watched on with interest, and...

They all collapsed to the ground in a tumble. The Abyssal was nowhere to be seen, and neither was the obsidian battlefield they had just fought on. Elentari was bandaging her shoulder, still awkwardly trying to use her missing arm. Then they noticed a good thing, and a bad thing.

The good thing was, the east was beginning to glow. Certainly, it was only a few minutes before dawn.

The bad thing was, they were wounded in the middle of a shadowland, spilling blood and essence across the cold ground. And all around them, hungry ghosts watched and approached.

The Circle fought bravely, pushing the ghosts back to buy themselves more time, but they were overwhelmed. The forces of the dead tore them, pushed them to the bloody earth, crawled over their bodies and drank the blood of the living.

Then, in an instant, the rays of the Unconquered Sun broke over the eastern trees, and the ghosts vanished like dust on a breeze. Wounded, crippled, but not dead, the Sidereals pulled themselves together, and crawled to safety across the border of the shadowland.

For about a month, they made slow progress east, healing and recovering essence day by day. Celeste began crafting, making a false arm for Elentari and various weapons for the Circle. They began planning, considering their options, wondering if they should seek revenge or simply flee into obscurity.

Rising Sun suggested their next course of action, though. He had instructions from someone, instructions which had allowed him to free his allies. Now, they told him to go beneath Nexus, beneath Hollow, into the long-forgotten places of the world, and there they would find her. Perhaps she was untrustworthy, perhaps it was a trap – but it was something, and for that, they were grateful.

It had been five years, and the world had changed. Now, in Realm Year 773, the wheel turned again. Perhaps the only people who knew the truth of the world's betrayal once again walked in the lands of the living. The Directional Convention of Wood returned to Creation.

Beri

09-22-2005, 12:52 AM

Exalted: The Sidereals
The Dimming of the Stars
Session 22: The Land of the Lost

Another day began with the Sidereals in the forest of the East, traveling toward the camp of the Cult of the Illuminated. There they would rest, bathe, and re-equip before heading north to Nexus, to meet Rising Sun's contact. Gicer asked what this contact's name was, and Rising Sun pulled a scrap of paper out of his contact and read it - “Madame Marthesine.”

The Sidereals reeled back in surprise. “Marthesine! She's the one that Simlaon took the wine to!” She had aided Rising Sun in rescuing the Sidereals, but that still didn't mean she was on their side. Was Marthesine truly a benefactor, or merely another spirit manipulating the Circle to her own ends?

Before they could think about it too hard, Elentari's Charm of Prior Warning began tingling. Something was amiss; an ambush, she sensed, coming soon. The Sidereals prepared – hiding, climbing into trees, or taking martial arts stances.

In a flash, a burly man leapt from the trees, rushing in a heartbeat to grab at Rising Sun. Although he tried to dodge, he could not escape the man's grasp.

“Brother!” The assailant was none other than Michael, one of the fellow Solars which Rising Sun had been tutoring. With a slap on Rising Sun's shoulder, Michael led the group into the Cult's camp.

Whereas Vision of Light had been a small, peaceful village, this eastern location was nothing less than a military training camp. Battlefields, cleverly hidden among the trees, contained formations of men drilling by their leader's side. Barracks for two hundred men were built into the ground, along with a grand – but camouflaged – temple to the Shining Ones and their gods.

Shen Aru greeted them, looking older and more frail than when they had last encountered him five years ago. The leader of the Cult of the Illuminated had not aged gracefully, but he took the time to fill them in on local politics.

Crisis surrounded them. To the south, the Hundred Kingdoms were falling one by one to someone named 'Ma-Ha-Suchi'. To the north, tensions between Lookshy and Nexus were coming to a head due to the Guild. Rising Sun told them about the mysterious Locust Crusade to the Southwest, and of course the whole world knew that the Realm was in turmoil, locked in civil war.

But first came bathing, a luxury after five years of imprisonment. The Cult actually had excellent masseuses and caretakers there, and the Sidereals emerged an hour or so later, washed, dressed, and invigorated.

While the others went to the armory to find copies of their favored weapons, Elentari meditated, thinking on the Maiden of Endings. Was this the ending of Creation? What could she do to stop it?

Still in her meditative trance, she wandered north, into the forests at the edge of the Cult fortress. The sound of great beasts led her on...a cat's growl reminded her of her familiar, the tiger familiar she had been separated from when she was captured.

She entered a glade – a small pool in the center, with dancing lights swirling in the air around the slick bushes and plants that thrived on the essence around this place. She lay down next to the pool, listening to that distant cat's purr and thinking of her familiar...when something nudged her hand.

She sat up just in time to see the golden outline of a tiger fade into nothingness. As she watched, it faded in and out around the edge of the pool – Elentari's familiar, plodding around the pool, but shimmering in and out of existence. Elentari was aware of the ways of spirits – this was most likely a sanctum of a local forest little god. She rushed back to the others to gather her allies.

Returning with everyone in tow, she and Fas'rial simultaneously cast Open the Spirit Door, teleporting everyone except Gicer (who stayed behind to keep watch) into the spirit's domain. There, the realm was much like the glade, except broader, more gorgeous. They stood on the edge of a wide lake, but a bridge of flowers rose from the depths and spread before them, urging them onward across the lake's surface to a central platform and arch.

Underneath that arch, a man of unearthly grace rested, his hand patting the head of Elentari's black and white tiger. He smiled, and the sunlight glistened through him, as if he were made of nothing more than water. “Welcome,” he said, “this little fellow has been expecting you.”

He explained that the tiger had sought out this realm, somehow sensing that Elentari would soon be by, but that he wasn't really here. It was a bleed-through from another spirit's realm. To some extent, it was an invasion of his privacy, but he agreed to ignore it if Rising Sun would simply tell the Cult to avoid this glade as they expand. A simple request.

“So...where is he, really?” Elentari asked. The man conferred with the tiger. “In the realm of the Lost. That's the realm of Madame Marthesine. Beyond that, I can't help you.”

They returned to the reality of Creation. Marthesine again...what role would she play?

Taking horses from the Cult, they made their way north towards Nexus, Fas'rial's aura of Journeys speeding their progress. As they approached the city, they observed that the place seemed to have new defenses – a perimeter of guard towers, watching the roads. They decided to avoid attention, and sought out one of the entrances to Hollow which they had used before. They found it collapsed – deliberately destroyed in order to prevent its use. It took a great deal of effort, time, and Charms to clear it out, moving what rocks they could and pulverizing those which resisted. But soon, they entered Hollow.

Ah, the stench of the forgotten city, the dust of decay mixed with the carcasses of dying animals. They made their way down. Down where? Their only instructions were 'below Nexus, below Hollow, in the forgotten places.' They broke through boarded up doorways. They plunged into collapsed passages. Each time their path branched, they took the path of most resistance, into the dark depths of the world.

Finally, breaking through a wooden floor, they found themselves in what appeared to be the second floor of a church. Broken relics and rotting tapestries of the sun and the other Celestial Incarna lay strewn about the room, and the stairway further down was boarded up, with heavy furniture piled on top of it.

Celeste threw aside the furniture and tore up the boards, then headed down into the darkness. She was greeted by the grinning, fleshless face of a corpse, hung over the banister of the railing. The lower half of the stairway had been destroyed, and beneath that, dozens, if not hundreds of corpses lay decayed on the floor. The great double doors of this building had been barricaded and boarded up, and the skeletons of Dragon-Blooded lay against those doors, seemingly the last to die. They had kept everyone else inside while the Great Contagion ran its course.

The place was not well-preserved, and all the books and bodies had foul green mold growing across them. Gicer, Fas'rial, and Kara searched the area carefully. Gicer took a handful of chipped, broken light armor and jade daggers from the Dragon-Blooded corpses, while Kara managed to find a strangely well-preserved copy of the old spellbook, The White Treatise. Fas'rial dug up a journal, the surviving pages of which told a story of wasting death among those forced to die here, during a time when the Great Contagion killed nine-tenths of humanity, and the dead outnumbered the living.

Having spent enough time here, they tore the barricades off the front door and pushed out. They found themselves surrounded by rubble, a cavern only 30 feet across which must, at some point, have been a bustling town center. In front of them, a finely-carved fountain gently burbled fresh water.

The plaque on the front read, “All things are made, all things are broken, all things are lost. Give what is willing to be lost, and you may be found again.”

Celeste dropped her sword, her only weapon, along with a lock of her hair into the pool. Gicer gave up his knives, Fas'rial his clothing. Elentari was instantly drawn into the pool – 'You have lost enough,' the voice in her mind whispered. Rising Sun took the orichalcum ring from his finger and dropped it in, and the waters rose into an archway, beckoning him inside.

Thus they entered the realm of the Lost, the realm of Madame Marthesine. In great piles, thirty feet high at least, mountains of broken toys, old love letters, scraps of fabric, half-written poems, discarded furniture and other long-forgotten items lay to the sides of the path.

Almost immediately, Fas'rial was struck in the face by some frantic, flapping object. Kaloo had returned to him! Similarly, an old warrior's helmet began scraping its way down the street toward Gicer, with his panic monkey playing inside.

Elentari caught a glimpse of a tiger's tail, disappearing behind a pile of rubble. She rushed after it, and happily embraced her familiar. The tiger bowed down so Elentari could climb on, and it carried her – with the rest of the Circle following behind – deeper into the heart of the realm.

In the center of the world, Madame Marthesine sat at a round table, with six other chairs surrounding her. Tea had been prepared and laid out. Marthesine was an old lady, utterly harmless in appearance, carrying a walking staff. A bulging bag lay beside her, and she invited the group to sit down.

“I am Madame Marthesine, of the Lost,” she began. She explained that she had been watching the downfall of the world, and that many things had become broken, lost, and forgotten as destruction was wrought against the lands of Creation. “I am an old spirit, and I remember when the Great Contagion came, and the Fair Ones advanced on Creation. Much of the world died then, and my power grew greatly – but I would rather be a poor, broken spirit than the queen of Creation's demise. Now, we stand to lose everything, and you five are the only ones who could possibly stand in their way.”

“You mean six,” Gicer corrected.

She thought for a moment. “The Solar will be helpful, but you are the keys to the future – you five, who were lost while Creation's end began. You five, who share half a soul with the darkened stars who benefit and guide the twilight of Creation.”

When they entered the labyrinth, the Sidereals became part of her realm. She waited five years to find a moment of weakness, then sent Rising Sun in to rescue them. Now, they were here. From here, Madame Marthesine could offer no guidance – it would be their own cunning which would guide them through this morass to victory.

One of the Sidereals asked about Simlaon, since it was through their investigation of him that they first heard Marthesine's name. “Yes, he is here. Many of the Celestial Bureaucracy are, actually, and I do not blame them. Thousands of years of toil, for little reward. Yes, Simlaon grew frustrated with his place under Wuni-Yan, and when he tried to reach higher, he was punished. He chose, willingly, to become forgotten, as is the right of all things. You may meet him, if you wish, but I cannot allow you to persecute him for his choice.” The Sidereals declined. Simlaon was out of their way, and the idea of petty revenge was unappealing.

As they began to return to Creation, Celeste and Gicer noticed something odd. The skies of Marthesine's realm reflected the night sky of Creation, with one minor difference. It took them a minute to notice, but it was the Constellation of the Mask – here, it was whole, as it was in the First Age, rather than broken, as it was now. A strange sort of thing to notice...

They returned to Creation in a puff of essence, now standing around a broken and shattered fountain which obviously had not pumped water in centuries. They began to work their way back up towards the streets of Nexus. First up, they would visit Celeste's tea shop, gather some equipment and money and plan their next move. If the shop still existed...Celeste had not been there in five years, after all, and her 'Celeste' Resplendent Destiny was beginning to fray and fade.

After that, they would contact Wuni-Yan. He was the one god they felt they could trust. After all, with Enoi having worked his way into Yu-Shan, who knew how deep the corruption might penetrate...

Beri

10-04-2005, 12:01 PM

Session 23: Kung-Fu Fundraising

Leaving Madame Marthesine’s Realm, Fas’rial, Kara, Celeste, Elentari (still with one arm), Rising Sun, and Gicer decided they needed to find a place to rest and plan. The obvious choice was Celeste’s teahouse in Nexus – originally, she had set it up to get close to the Guild and learn about their plans, but now, it could be useful…if it still existed five years later.

They made their way up, through Hollow, through Nexus, walking those busy familiar streets until they found the teashop. But it didn’t look quite right. A man stumbled out, obviously intoxicated, supported by a few friends who didn’t look much better. Storming in, Celeste found the place decorated not with tasteful cushions and delicate tea wares, but with ample pillows, beads, and bared skin. The air was thick with incense and other sharp scents as patrons took pulls from hookahs and opium pipes and lounged in the arms of whores.

Celeste stomped up to the counter. Her old assistant still worked there, watching the room and working on an accounting ledger, and nearly bowled herself over when she realized that Celeste had returned. Celeste, infuriated, demanded to know what had happened to her beautiful shop! The assistant replied that things had gone downhill fast since she disappeared – five years in Nexus is a lifetime elsewhere, and when they lost their tea master, they couldn’t keep their profits up. The Guild put them on probation, but they held out for three years, waiting for Celeste, who never returned.

Finally, two years ago, a Dragon-Blooded Dynast had approached the workers and made them an offer. He would take care of their debts, as well as give them a fair price for the shop and keep them on as employees. Thanking the gods for their deliverance, her employees happily signed the shop away, and it passed into the hands of Cynis Molu.

Molu was upstairs, and Celeste went off to confront him. Her assistant called out after her, “Don’t do anything rash! He bought the place legally, and we’ll have to deal with the Council of Entities!”

The Council, for those of you unfamiliar, is a group of powerful, secretive persons who rule quietly over Nexus. Mostly they simply give decisions on controversial topics, and enforce the few rules upheld in Nexus. Primary among them is ‘you shall not obstruct trade.’ Celeste realized that she would have to be delicate about this.

Cynis Molu welcomed her into his office, surrounded by papers, accounting, and various works. Actually, it was Celeste’s old office, which he had moved in to. A man broad of body and broad of face, he took one last puff from his hookah and turned his attention to Celeste. He listened to her complaints, reasonably, and nodded. “Yes, that’s unfortunate. Your subordinates did wait quite some time for you. I made them a fair, legal offer – no blackmail, nothing underhanded – and gave them far more than this place was worth. I am a man of business, though, miss Celeste, and I will happily sell your establishment back to you for the price I paid.”

Of course, having been locked in the Underworld for half a decade, Celeste’s personal funds equaled exactly naught. She left her teahouse for the streets of Nexus, and the Sidereals conferred. Rising Sun had a little money, but not enough for anything significant. Fas’rial wanted to contact Wuni-Yan, god of the Yellow River, but felt that he ought to offer a significant sacrifice to aid the god in remembering them after so many years.

Thus began a session of Exalted fundraising. To summarize:

Fas’rial and Kaloo forged a written record of Kara’s victories, and Kara and Gicer traveled to the Nexus arena. Kara donned the Resplendent Destiny of Thorn (still good after all these years) and convinced the organizer that Kara/Thorn was a gladiator from another village, come to Nexus to prove herself against the best. The organizer scoffed. “Your record don’t mean jack here. You start middle-weight, and you can take on Hatchet. Then we’ll see.”

Gicer, meanwhile, stole away to a nearby alley, to negotiate a bet with the illegal bookies who always sulked around the Nexus arena. A bit of fast-talking later and Gicer managed to get 2-to-1 odds on Thorn. He handed over the last of Rising Sun’s money, and returned to the arena.

Kara made short work of Hatchet. They actually had a fairly even match, while Kara was fighting as a mortal, but eventually Hatchet got the advantage over her, and forced Kara to use Impeding the Flow. That neatly avoided the attack, and left Hatchet defenseless against Kara’s vicious retribution. Thorn left the field victorious.

Gicer found the bookies where he had left them. Fortunately, they truly hadn’t expected Kara to win, or they would have run off while they had Gicer’s money. Begrudgingly, they paid him twice what he had given them – no king’s ransom, but it was progress.

The next day, Kara and Gicer returned to the event organizer. Also in the room was a middle-aged man, hooded, who stared at Kara. “That was real good,” said the organizer. “But, eh, what about that Charm, huh?” He patted the man next to him. “I keep this guy around to watch for essence and such.” By this point, Kara had begun to sweat. “So, yer God-Blooded, huh? Nothin’ wrong with that, but you shoulda told me. We can’t let you fight in the little leagues anymore, no – you’re goin’ up against God-Blooded Thunder next. It’ll take a week or two to get him down from Great Forks, though.”

Meanwhile, the man next to him babbled. “That power, such that I’ve never seen! The maiden of battles rises…red in the sky, Mars! Black no more! Black no more!” Kara nervously grinned and nodded, and she and Gicer decided it was time to beat a hasty retreat.

Rising Sun, meanwhile, had gone up to the Bastion district, where rumors of an archery match were underway. The rumors were true, but the match wasn’t exactly a battle of champions, more of some nobles having a good frolic in the park. They were good…decent, at least – but no match for Rising Sun. As he approached, a doorsman stood before him. “I’m sorry, this event is by invitation only, and, judging by your manners, I assume you have no invitation.”

Rising Sun insisted, claiming that if they were going to advertise an event, it had better be open to everyone. The doorman was adamant, so Rising Sun lifted his wooden bow, nocked an arrow, and calmly shot the bottlecap out of a child’s hand a quarter-mile down the street. The doorman gasped, and huffed as he collected himself. “Sorry, no, it just wouldn’t be proper. Oh, but don’t let them say that we’re not one for charity. Here.” He pressed a few coins into Rising Sun’s palm. “Now, now, be a good chap and go away.”

Rising Sun left, but was met by Gicer and Kara along the way home. As he recounted the story, Gicer chuckled – if it was a noble they wanted, he’d give them a noble. They slinked around Bastion until they found an upper-class pub, then went inside. Gicer began shouting about Kara’s victory in the arena, and how it was a cause for celebration! He also implied that Kara was a loose woman, with her sexuality up for purchase – and certainly enough, there was a noble more than willing to accept the offer. Gicer led him into a back room to ‘discuss the terms,’ then brutally – sadistically – smashed his nose in, kicked him down, and choked him to unconsciousness. Carefully, then, he removed the fop’s clothes, and packed them away in his side bag. He called Kara over – still playing the part of her pimp – and left without suspicion. Kara spent a few minutes with the limp body, wondering how in the world she had gone from being heaven’s godly enforcer to crouching over the half-naked body of some Nexus noble. Finally, she too made her way out of the bar, only pausing a moment to knock out the bouncer before she skipped away and disappeared into the streets of Nexus.

Fas’rial did some performances and dances to earn some spare coin. Not a whole lot, but I was happy to see him try – since dancing in Nexus is something Fas’rial did back in the early sessions, and these minor sparks of continuity are what really make the game come alive.

As for Celeste, she went out into the fields near Nexus, and set to work with the reeds that grew there. With no house, no money, and no tools, the best she could do was to weave baskets – amazing, perfect-quality baskets – and hope they would sell for a few scraps of silver in the marketplace. She returned to Nexus and set up shop in front of her old teahouse, spreading her wares on a blanket before her. For her first day out, she was quite successful, but she certainly wasn’t getting rich fast. She worked all day, and came nowhere near the money which she was simply handed to exist in Yu-Shan.

The Sidereals reconvened a few days later, gathering near the shrine where Fas’rial and Kara summoned Wuni-Yan to confer with him, so many years ago. Fas’rial brought sacrifices of fish and precious oils for the god, and he responded in kind by manifesting before them, filling the room with all the weight and power of the depths of a rushing river.

Wuni-Yan greeted them warmly, but did not seem to immediately recognize them. For the Sidereals, after five years, it’s not that surprising that they might slip from even a god’s mind. They asked about the situation in Yu-Shan, to which he responded that he had not been back to the heavenly city in several years. He had no reason to return; he had not been summoned, and his business was down here on Creation. Perhaps his usual reports had stopped coming from Yu-Shan, but that was no particular cause for alarm. Wuni-Yan agreed to check in with Yu-Shan within the next few weeks, to see if anything needed attention, and the Sidereals discussed the situation. Had something happened to Yu-Shan? Had Salesh Enoi taken over? Or was Wuni-Yan right, that there was no cause for alarm?

Only one way to find out, so they went through the back alleys of Nexus, down crumbled masonry into Hollow, then through the territory of deadly animals to reach the gate to Yu-Shan. The Sidereals tried Charms and prayers to determine if Yu-Shan was safe, but their results were inconclusive. Celeste’s Charm, Wise Choice, informed her that between the two options, not going to Yu-Shan would be better. But that could mean that anything from a stubbed toe to the gaping maw of Malfeas could be on the other side.

Essence channeled and sparked through the air, and Elentari opened the door to heaven. The gateway was a swirling, bubbling void, and one by one they stepped through.

The temperature dropped sharply, and the Sidereals stood upon a great, flat plain, with grasses stretching out until they met mountains at the horizon. The sky above them was bright and blue, and birds chirped in the skies. Behind them, the gate to Yu-Shan still swirled, the arch hidden away among dozens of bushes which bent themselves into arches to keep the gateway a secret.

Celeste’s natural sense of direction informed her – they had left Nexus, and were now in the Northwest! Behind them, the gateway began to fade, and they wasted no time in leaping through it – and reappearing right where they had left in Nexus.

What had happened, they asked each other? That wasn’t Yu-Shan! It was as if they had traveled normally, but instead of going to the heavenly city, they were diverted around it. Somehow, had the dark Sidereals sealed off heaven? “Heaven has been taken from us,” Fas’rial whispered. “There will be hell to pay.”

Well, if the dark ones were responsible, they would certainly want to leave themselves a back door into the divine realm. All they needed was a hint, a direction to begin their search. They sat and concentrated, and Celeste felt it first – her prayer slipping away, and rushing towards the Southeast to touch her counterpart. The Southeast, where the Lunars had begun their invasion of the Hundred Kingdoms.

Fas’rial reopened the gateway, and still not knowing what might be on the other side, they stepped through. Now the temperature was hotter, a sharp wind blew, and they stood on the side of a mountain. Before them, an endless desert glistened hot in the morning sun. Fas’rial realized he recognized this place – they were a few hundred miles from the manse he had claimed for himself in Creation!

In the desert, they could see an encampment of nomads, and they traveled there in hopes of procuring horses. But, lo and behold, not one of the Sidereals spoke Flametongue, so the leader of the camp just shouted at them in some strange garble while his group gathered their weapons. Celeste sighed, ducked behind a tree, and unleashed her brilliant blue aura of Serenity, claiming she was their god of waters.

The nomads were hesitant – they gave her the proper respect of a god, but convened among themselves to decide exactly how many horses they could afford to lose before they would trap themselves to die out here in the desert. Finally, they agreed to give her three horses – if only she would quench their thirst, and bring them the waters of the earth!

Around here, we ran out of time in the session, so we simply cut to a scene of the Sidereals riding away, two to a horse, with surprised looks on their faces, while a mob of nomads chased after them with spears. All in a day’s work.

Beri

10-10-2005, 12:33 AM

Session 24: Shattering the Silence

Everyone was in attendance this week, except Elentari.

Our story continues with the Sidereals (and Solar) traveling by horseback across the desert of the Southeast, riding toward the mountain range where Fas’rial claimed his manse was. As swift as the Chosen of Journeys was, however, he was the first to tire under the oppressive heat and grit of the desert, and the group halted the horses and made camp with the tent and supplies that Celeste found in the saddlebags of her mount. Their food and water was minimal, but with some luck and their Exalted constitutions, they would likely survive.

After making camp, they bedded down and made watches throughout the night. No human interrupted them, but when Rising Sun awoke to perform his watch, his senses immediately detected something amiss. Bad weather was coming – and judging by the rapidly-approaching wall of sand, it was coming soon.

They rushed back inside the tent, pulling the horses in as well and taking cover just as Fas’rial kicked out the tent’s supports, collapsing the canvas on top of them as the first rushing wave of skin-flaying sand washed over their encampment. In an instant, everything outside was gone in a sea of orange and brown.

Fas’rial held tightly to the canvas tent, and the others tried to keep the horses safe and calm – but the power of the sandstorm ripped the tent away and almost immediately dissolved it into a burst of colored thread within the sandstorm. Now, the Exalted were without any cover at all, facing the worst of the storm directly above them.

Gicer wasted no time, drawing his hooked daiklave and slashing the stomach of the horse whose neck he held. He forced the beast open and crawled inside for cover, and reached out into the brown mists for another. He found Rising Sun, and pulled him mostly into the shelter of the gutted horse as well.

Kara knelt down, letting her starmetal armor take the brunt of the storm’s blow and bracing herself for the rest. Her phenomenal resistance to injury was tougher than the storm; she survived with deep cuts and painful sand rashes, but she survived.

Fas’rial and Celeste, meanwhile, both knew Duck Fate, and used it to great effect on themselves. The storm around them raged, and by all means should have torn them apart, but they were unaffected – the pain never materialized, and was forgotten by fate. They stood unhindered by the apocalypse around them.

Elentari took shelter under her spirit-tiger Familiar, who absorbed most of the storm’s force, then dematerialized to rest and heal.

And within perhaps twenty minutes of its inception, the storm was over. The survivors picked themselves up in a rain of dust, or pulled themselves out of a dead and sand-flayed horse, and took stock of their situation. Their camp, supplies, and horses were gone. Not even scraps and bloodstains marked where they had been. Sand coated every exposed inch of their bodies, and a good deal of the unexposed inches, too. It wouldn’t be far now to Fas’rial’s manse, but now the promise of revenge took a back seat to the promise of a manse.

Fas’rial pointed the way, and Elentari leapt on her tiger and rode ahead. The others had to trudge, foot by foot, with Fas’rial’s anima speeding the way, until they reached a massive, half-mile high sheer cliff. Fas’rial sent Kaloo soaring up through the mists above, and moments later, a sturdy rope tumbled down, just barely brushing the ground beneath the cliff. A quick tug to test it, then Fas’rial scampered up the sheer cliff face, followed by his fellows.

At the top, they were met by three cloaked monks, who paid them no particular mind. They gave no direction and spoke not a word, but simply returned to their posts. Before them spread a small enclave of safety – atop the cliff they found green grasses, scattered homes, and a great tower in the center standing surrounded by a hedge maze. And all around them was silence, an utter oath-sworn silence marked only by the faint footsteps of the villagers as they walked.

Fas’rial led them to the top of the manse proper, the central tower, where he kept a place of refuge at the top of the steps. There was food, which was eagerly consumed, and a bath, which Celeste strategically occupied. There were also guides to the stars and astrology and numerous occult texts, which were brought out onto tables and opened for reference and aid into the construction of new destinies. The stress and pain of the last few days melted away in a wash of perfume and comfort, but they were wary of growing too comfortable – after all, this was only a rest stop before they advanced into the lion’s den.

A good thing they weren’t too complacent, or they would have missed the scream that shattered the silence a few hours after the sun went down, Fas’rial leapt from the tower and glided down, while others had to rely on stairs, then navigate the hedge maze. By the time Fas’rial got there, people were being brought out of their homes, organized and (for a few) armed. By the time the others got there, the immediate tension had relaxed somewhat, and the report came back (silently, through hand signals and writing) – everyone was here, nobody was missing, and nobody had screamed.

The Exalted conferred among each other. Could it be a mistake? An ambush? A trap? If a crime was committed, then where was the victim? Fas’rial was in the midst of suggesting their next move when his whispering voice suddenly cut out. To speak, he used the Gem of Whispers – the Hearthstone which this manse had provided for him. Someone was in the Hearthstone chamber!

By the time they navigated the hedge maze and entered the upper chamber, there was no sign of anyone. The room had been thoroughly ransacked – the bookshelves overturned, the table pushed aside, the books strewn about. Nothing appeared to have been taken, but the chaos was enough to disrupt the building’s essence flows. Manses are a delicate thing. Fas’rial and the others put everything back as it was, focusing their memories to ensure that the placement was absolutely perfect – and slowly, Fas’rial’s voice returned as power came back to his gem.

Fas’rial was, of course, infuriated, and the others were no more content. There was some sinister plan in action – and it was targeted at them, to be sure. But then Kaloo returned – now, someone was indeed missing. Again, they rushed back downstairs – but not before leaving their Familiars to keep an eye on the room in case anyone should return.

Arriving, the gathered villagers reported that a woman had disappeared. They confirmed that several of them had indeed seen her when everyone came outside and gathered, although nobody had actually seen her leave the group…or be abducted from it. Fas’rial searched out to sense the essence flows of the area, and although they felt charged, he could not definitely determine the location or even the presence of any essence-users in the area.

Rising Sun decided to investigate the cliff. Since it appeared to be the only way into this secretive manse, perhaps their troublesome assassin left some clue down there. He rushed down the rock wall, aided by the Graceful Crane Stance, and investigated the base of the sheer cliff. There, he found a cave, strewn about with spiderwebs.

He returned up top to gather the others, fearing an ambush, then led them back down. And sure enough, once he and Kara had touched the ground (with the others still on the rope) a huge, wooly spider leapt from the cave, snarling and rushing for Rising Sun. He dodged away from the blow, and Kara swung her axe fiercely, severing a couple of its many limbs. It backed away and snarled, bending impossibly to avoid the counterattacks of the other Sidereals, while Celeste tried to reason with it.

The spider-thing saw an opening to attack, but instead of rushing forward, it vanished, dematerializing in a wash of essence. A voice brushed across Celeste’s mind – “I am sorry, but I owed great debts.” Then all trace of the assault was gone.

The group pushed forward into the cave, knocking aside cobwebs as they searched further inside. Deep in the recesses, they found a body – a corpse, drained of all fluids, and wrapped in thick, stringy webs. She matched the description of the missing woman. As they cut her dead body away, Rising Sun made an observation – the wounds on the woman seemed not quite right for the beast they had just battled. It might be another spirit-spider, or something far worse…and signs seemed to be pointing towards the latter.

Beri

10-22-2005, 01:01 AM

Session 25: The Heart’s Blood

This session summary is a little off – this session was a week and a half ago, and I’ve been sick for the past week, so I’ve forgotten most of who did what. The essence of the session is all here, though!

In the cave with the body, Celeste began an impromptu ritual, hoping for the vague chance that the girl’s spirit was still hanging around. However, as she expected, all she successfully summoned was a furious hungry ghost – the lower, animal soul of the departed woman. Her higher, intellectual soul had already gone to the Underworld, and if they were lucky, to lethe and reincarnation. The hungry ghost lunged at them, but her swift demise was hardly a footnote.

Having exhausted their ideas with the body, the Exalted began a long climb back up the cliff, to return the dessicated corpse to her fellows above. Upon pulling themselves up over the edge, they saw the smoke – the hedge maze which surrounded Fas’rial’s tower was aflame!

The fire was not well-set, and the townsfolk moved quickly for those who are sworn to silence. With the aid of the Exalted, the flames were swiftly quenched. Then Gicer’s monkey leapt over to him with a report – he had seen, from afar, the man who had started the fire! The monkey described him as having silver hair and a noble seeming, with a scar on his chin.

Fas’rial asked the town’s leader, and he nodded – the man they described had indeed been with the group, but had recently vanished. The Sidereals suspected they might find this man – or his body – in the cave below, so once again, they set off down the rope.

Celeste, Rising Sun, Kara, and Elentari proceeded down the cliff. As they struggled down, they saw a vague shape through the hazy mists – a gigantic spider, lumbering effortlessly up the cliff’s side. Celeste changed her Infinite Weapon to a staff, while Rising Sun let forth an arrow enhanced with Accuracy Without Distance. The blows struck the beast, but only angered it – with a motion of its talons, a silver bow flowed into its outstretched arms, and a single precise arrow flew – not for the Exalted, but for the rope far above them.

With their enhanced reflexes, each of the group barely managed to keep themselves alive and attached to the cliff face, either by scrabbling for handholds or by jabbing weapons straight into the hard rock. By the time they recovered their senses, their assailant was gone into the mists.

Far above them, Fas’rial and Gicer remained unaware of any conflicts below. They had decided to stay behind for a time, to make sure that the people of the village would be okay, and that nothing else bad was going to happen. Now, they heard a shout from below, telling them of their allies’ near-destruction at the hands of gravity.

Fas’rial leapt over the edge of the cliff, spreading his robes into billowing ribbons as he caught the wind and glided out downward over the edge of the cliff. Gicer, having no such flight ability, peered over the edge of the cliff, wondering if he should climb down.

At that moment, one of the three monks who guarded the cliff’s edge stepped silently behind him, and rammed his shoulder into Gicer’s backside. The Sidereal nearly fell from the cliff, but managed to avoid the blow at the last instant, turning just in time to see the monk erupt into eight hairy legs and a glimmering silver bow.

Gicer readied himself for battle, but the beast rushed past him, leaping over the edge of the cliff. Suddenly, it was a bird, a falcon. Fas’rial tried to pursue, but he only glided at a fast human’s running speed, as opposed to the falcon which dropped into a dive at nearly a hundred miles per hour. Fas’rial went down into the clouds after him.

Back on the cliff below, the Sidereals began working their way down. Kara pushed off the cliff, plummeting hundreds of feet before arresting her fall mere yards above the ground with a swift strike of her weapons into the wall. Elentari attempted to call out to the eagles of the east, to come be her transport down from the cliffside. (“Hey, Gandalf did it,” she said.)

The eagles didn’t come for her, but she did see a strange sight – two eagles chasing a small falcon, clawing at it and forcing it to the ground. Later, when they came closer, she was able to leap off the cliff and grab their talons, and enjoy a swift and slightly bumpy ride down.

Back at the top of the cliff! Gicer grabbed one of the two remaining monks and started shouting at him. “What kind of monster was that? What did you know? Why did he do that?” the monk shook his head, gesturing frantically, and Gicer just shouted louder, causing the monk’s whole body to shake.

“Anathema,” he croaked, his little-used voice coming out for the first time in years. “My brother has been possessed, it is the only explanation.”

Gicer continued to grill him, but the monk knew nothing. Gicer pushed him aside angrily. The monk stood up, brushed himself off, walked to the cliffside, and threw himself off.

Fas’rial, halfway down, notices a body plummeting rapidly through the clouds. He swung around to catch the monk, who simply went limp in his arms, not caring to move. With the extra weight, they made a quick and clumsy descent, throwing up dust as they hit the cliff’s floor.

‘Why did you do that?’ signed Fas’rial.
‘I broke the silence. I violated my destiny, and now I have no destiny left.’
‘No. You have become something greater. Now you have a new destiny. Find others, speak to them, and find yourself.’
The monk nodded, and hesitantly walked towards the south – a man with thin lease on life, but who knows what he might become?

Through various means, the Sidereals (and Solar) made their way down the cliff, even Gicer. They gathered in front of the cave where they had found the body earlier, and prepared. Elentari gathered the power of the Death of Obsidian Butterflies, when something burst out of the cave and dashed towards her.

Much like before, it was a wooly spider that rushed out, but immediately went to the defensive as the Sidereals assaulted it. They swiftly knocked it aside, and it cowered harmlessly in fear. Elentari released the Death of Obsidian Butterflies into the mouth of the cave, throwing rock and spider webs about in a haze of chaos. That’s when the first arrows lanced out of the cave, narrowly missing their mark.

Kara burst into essence-flame and leapt forward, throwing three mighty punches at the creature with her new combo. The monster, a great mesh between a spider and a man, carefully avoided Kara’s blows, backing up against the cliff side. As her allies maneuvered to strike, they discovered that they were unable to get a clear shot around Kara – his Ground Denying Defense reduced their effectiveness immensely.

But then he extended too far, attempting to land a fatal blow but only succeeding in overextending himself. The blow was avoided, and counterattacks rained down upon his tough carapace. Most were turned aside effortlessly, until Elentari calmly walked forward, raised her one good arm, and unleashed the Death of Obsidian Butterflies, point-blank, into his face.

The monster slumped down into the earth, his lifeblood bleeding out from a thousand thousand cuts. The Sidereals breathed deeply – another quick battle, only a few seconds long, but it had again brought them only inches from death. A silent glance was shared, as they each realized they were lucky to be alive – and glad that their fellows were alive as well.

Beri

10-30-2005, 10:26 PM

Session 26: In Which The Sidereals Victoriously Assault a City

In attendance: Everyone, except Fas’rial. He fell ill.

The Sidereals now stood circled around the rapidly cooling body of their Lunar foe. He had a face like a human, at least his nose and mouth – although his mouth boasted two great, dripping fangs. Above that were eight spider eyes, giving the whole thing a hideous look. Kara beheaded the thing.

Gicer checked over the body. In its front limbs, it clutched a silver bow, which was warped and bent, and the lower half had become a solid puddle of seemingly-melted silver. It was completely useless, but even so, moonsilver is too valuable to leave behind. Rising Sun grabbed it.

Another item found was a scroll, sealed with wax with the symbol of Venus pressed into it. Gicer tried to open it, and failed. Kara tried, and failed. Rising Sun tried with a dagger, and perhaps he could have cut away the seal, but the paper resisted; he feared that using more force might destroy the message.

Meanwhile, Celeste had been playing with the wood spider they had defeated earlier, making it comfortable with her. For some reason, she wanted this wood elemental as a pet. Finally, they pressed the scroll into her hands, and she effortlessly popped the seal and read it.

“Ten Thousand Eyes –
I rely on you for giving me time. Harry the manse, and slow them down – show them fear, but do not engage them in a direct fight! You are powerful, but they are more so. The only other thing to worry about is that other deathlords or their vassals may become jealous and strike at you. Utilize this Charm – for you, it will work once.” There was written a complicated, astrological formula for the Charm of Mending Warped Designs. “Be careful, and destroy this message after you read it!
- Blasphemy of Starlight”

Celeste told the others about the message, except for the instructions on the Charm. This one, she kept for herself.

They climbed back up the long cliff once more, carrying the bodies of Elentari (who had fallen unconscious after the Death of Obsidian Butterflies), Fas’rial (who, likewise, had fallen into a daze as his committed essence bled away after the combat), and the wood spider (who Celeste wanted as a pet).

Up top, the exhausted Sidereals limped back to the top of Fas’rial’s manse, there to pull some blankets across the floor and go to sleep. As he returned to his familiar, Gicer heard a voice in his head – “Hi hi! I had fun time!” Something had happened down below…or maybe it was something about Fas’rial’s manse, the concentrated essence flowing through this little monkey. One way or another, telepathic communication! Fun.

Around four in the morning, an alarm arose from the people below. Gicer and Kara kept sleeping, while Rising Sun and Celeste groggily went downstairs.

‘Another one of our number has vanished!’ the town’s leader wrote in the dirt for Rising Sun to read. ‘Four have now disappeared, and only the one body you returned!’

Celeste sighed and spoke, boosting her efforts with Perfection in Life. “They went on a journey, far away, seeking their new destinies. You don’t need to worry about them. There won’t be any more disappearances.”

“Where did they go?”
“They went to the base of the cliff.”
“Cliff?”
“Away from here, outside, in the rest of the world.”
“Away? Outside? The world?”
“::sigh::”

Their work done for now, the group set off toward the Hundred Kingdoms. Elentari wove essence into a dragon of smoke, using a spell to guide their way, tasking it to search out and lead them to the nearest place they could purchase horses. With the smoke dragon leading their way, they traveled through the night, until they saw a small village unfold before them as the exited the Southeastern forest.

Entering the village, they went their separate ways – some to earn minor money, some to buy horses, and some just to rest and listen to rumors. In particular, there was a strange trio of wagons in the middle of town – parked right in the town’s thoroughfare, and sealed up tight.

Upon investigation, they found that the wagons had come from another town slightly north, a border town of the Hundred Kingdoms, which had been completely decimated by a vicious raid from an unknown source. The half-dozen workers on the three trading wagons which were on their way out from town were the only survivors they knew of, and they weren’t in any way anxious to leave this town.

Seeing as a plot hook had fallen in their laps, the Exalted purchased a handful of work horses (despite the master attempting to convince them to purchase a few of his far more expensive Marukani breeding stock) and headed off northward.

It wasn’t too far, and they crested a hill to see plumes of smoke and fire billowing into the sky from the smoking ruin of what used to be a town. Dozens, perhaps a hundred figures stalked among the ruins, hunched over and sniffing the corpses lying in the streets. Elentari sent in her tiger, dematerialized, and it saw a land of utter destruction. The men and children who had been cut down were a pleasure to behold compared to the broken corpses raped to death.

Outnumbered more than ten to one, the Exalted did what I couldn’t expect. They charged straight in.

First, Elentari struck from cover with the Death of Obsidian Butterflies, cutting down twenty beastmen of various shapes and mutations before they were even aware of their presence.

Kara, Gicer, and Celeste moved in from the sides as she began charging up essence for another shot, herding the beastmen in closer together to make them vulnerable to her next spell.

In the distance, Rising Sun raised his bow and set himself into the Trance of Unhesitating Speed, cutting down beastman after beastman with precise arrows.

The beastmen counterattacked, of course, but they were surprisingly ineffective. Gicer’s Snake Form meant that they rolled only one or two dice to attack him. Kara’s starmetal armor absorbed blows with little threat. And Celeste’s Defense of Shining Joy kept her one step ahead of the assault. Elentari and Rising Sun were safe, having taken the advantage of range.

Shouting and screaming, Gicer and Kara terrified their foes, driving them into another flurry of sharp, black butterflies. The group’s essence and anima raged forth, twisting into a multicolored display in the skies above.

And in mere moments, it was done. Only a ripe stench and the sound of blood dripping remained, as the eighty beastmen occupying the city had been killed to a man. Searching the bodies, Gicer found a terribly crude map of the surrounding area, indicating a primitive attack plan to surround the city. It meant they were one step closer to getting to someone who really mattered. With little hesitation, they dusted themselves off and continued on their way to the heart of the Hundred Kingdoms.

Beri

11-01-2005, 11:16 PM

I forgot something crucial during the last session, and the whole reason Celeste was given Mending Warped Designs. The damage to Elentari's arm had been done by an agent of the Underworld.

As they rested in Fas'rial's tower, Celeste let herself into Elentari's side room as she slept. Her wooden arm, which Celeste had carved to replace the one she lost to Artful Maiming Onslaught, was removed and lay beside her.

Quietly, Celeste wove essence through herself, intoning the new Charm she had learned. The loss of her arm was nothing less than an injustice - something which fate had never meant, never planned. Now, she had the power to fix that error. Gently, she plucked at the threads of essence which made up Elentari, removing those which insisted that she had lost an arm. Soon, Elentari was once again whole, her arm having been repaired...or, more accurately, having had never been lost. Celeste quietly retired to her own sleeping mat.

Beri

11-08-2005, 08:45 PM

Session 27: Tirasta City

Fas’rial awoke, finding himself tied to a horse. Kaloo set him free, and he followed the voices he heard. There, the Sidereals were washing and talking in a clear river, cleaning the blood of the beastmen off themselves as they discussed what course of action they would pursue next.

Gicer pulled out the map they had found, and they puzzled over it. Celeste looked at the winding script across the map, and began taking notes next to it and puzzling over the meaning. Soon she had deciphered it – it was Lunar script, the language of the Silver Pact, and it indicated that forces from three towns had come to attack this town: the Cimran Barracks, Tirasta City, and one marked ‘That mining town we took over.’

Fas’rial created a pattern spider from his essence, and sent it off seeking an answer to his question – basically ‘where are the Lunars attacking?’ However, he had to rephrase it a few times to get specific enough. After all, he wasn’t dealing with just one Lunar – it was an army. He finally managed to figure out the two cities the Lunars were hitting the hardest – Nishion, and Tirasta City. Tirasta City was under siege, and Nishion was under attack.

They decided that Tirasta City was a good target, somewhere they could do some good and get some answers. And Fas’rial was eager to try a new spell he had studied. As the Sidereals rested after their battle, he traced a wide circle around them. When they were ready, he focused, raised his arms, and spun in place, calling energy and wind to him. Soon, there was a roaring storm, and they were lifted gently from the ground, with Fas’rial at the helm, the Stormwind Rider. They shot off towards the north.

As they approached the city, they noticed that it didn’t seem to be under siege. If anything, the troops arrayed outside were definitely human, and their weapons were pointing out, not in. They noticed the whirling, screaming hurricane, and were particularly interested in the people who disembarked from it – especially Elentari, who now wore the Invulnerable Skin of Bronze.

The banner-carrier of the troops outside the city approached the group and shouted something in Forest-Tongue, which only Rising Sun understood. “Come forward and drop your weapons!” he shouted.

The Sidereals resisted, but a few eventually came forward as they realized that the troops were rightfully worried. After all, their city had recently been under siege, and now a troop of men soar up, riding a hurricane, and claim they mean no harm.

Rising Sun introduced himself as a general – a leader of a mercenary troop, and that the people with him were his advance strike force against the beastmen. They were pleased to hear that, but angry that they were a day too late – the siege had broken last night, and the beastmen were driven away. Tirasta City was secure once more. Furthermore, they were angry that their calls for help were answered by only a handful of lightly-armed soldiers.

Fas’rial attempted to demonstrate his power and convince them they would be useful allies, by soaring around with Stormwind Rider and showing them how maneuverable and powerful the whirlwind was. And suddenly, with a burst of green essence, the whirlwind was gone, and Fas’rial was bouncing along the ground at over eighty miles an hour, painfully tearing a long rut in the earth.

From the ranks of the troops stepped forward a woman, dressed in the standard armor of the troops, but obviously exceptional, tall and proud with flowing red hair. She introduced herself as V’neef Lucia, a child of the Scarlet Dynasty and a representative sent by her house to aid the Hundred Kingdoms in their war against the Lunars.

She called the Sidereals, and Rising Sun forward, and demanded they drop their weapons and turn for her. “I’m looking for your Tell,” she said. “Spies for the Lunars will not enter our city.” Eventually, they satisfied her, and she allowed the group into the city, in order to restock and prepare, and to decide where they should strike next. There were provisions – for the five Exalted, they were assigned twenty guards. Although Lucia called them Anathema, she realized that there were larger foes to worry about.

Five? Well, Gicer had leapt from the Stormwind Rider early, and now hid in the nearby trees with his monkey Familiar. Perhaps it wasn’t necessary…but it’s never a bad idea to have one person in a safe location, away from the group.

The Exalted spread out, earning minor funds and resupplying themselves for the war that lay ahead of them. Elentari set her eyes on a good-quality breastplate in an armory, but the price was beyond her range. Amazingly, though, someone she knew passed by at that moment – Billi Idolu, who she had met as Lapas Ridana on the Blessed Isle. A sweet word and a smile, and Billi agreed to purchase the breastplate for her if she would come home with him. Essentially, prostitution, but it was phrased more as a gift from a man to his sweetheart. Elentari didn’t care much either way; she needed armor.

Night approached, and back in the forest, Gicer had caught a quick nap in the treetops. When he awoke, his monkey sat next to him…but it would not respond to his mental calls. Then, his monkey came out of the treetops. Then it chirped at him from below. Soon, Gicer was surrounded by a swarm of panic monkeys, his own familiar lost somewhere in the shuffle.

“Can you talk to them?” Gicer asked.
“Yes!” his monkey responded.
“Hey, you should take them into town, and get some toys!”
“Yay toys!” The panic monkey swarm went into town.

As the dawn arose, Kara and Rising Sun were out exploring the city…when a monkey landed on Kara’s head. Kara picked up the monkey and tossed it aside. Now, she hadn’t dealt with a panic monkey before, and as it let out a howling scream, she had her first experience with a panic monkey swarm. Their tiny claws shredded the covering over her starmetal armor, and the guards went down on the ground, covered by tiny hands tearing at any exposed skin.

Gicer’s familiar also panicked, and the panic screamed back along the empathic link into Gicer’s mind. Suddenly, his vision was tinged with red. Every sway of the branches was a foe coming to destroy him, and every shadow hid an assassin. He shrieked with the pain and the panic, and tried to calm his monkey and regain his grip on his own mind.

Rising Sun, surrounded by howling animals, gave out a shout, and flared his anima – the anima of the Dawn Caste. The panic monkeys, reacting instinctively to a larger threat, fled in many separate directions into the surrounding buildings. Surely, they would be a nuisance, but alone they weren’t a threat. On the other hand, there was now a shining, terrifying pillar of light in the middle of Tirasta City.

The guards backed away, their spear points set against Rising Sun. He quelled his anima, and hesitantly, the guards confronted him. “You’ve caused trouble, now. You have to leave.”

“I understand, but I’ve done nothing wrong. Let me talk to Lucia, and if she wants me to leave, I will.”

The guards led him and Kara to Lucia’s bunk near the military’s barracks, and V’neef Lucia emerged to confront them. “Our agreement is broken. You must leave our city immediately.”

“I defended your men, perhaps saved their lives.”
“Certainly, you saved them a week in the hospital, and I’m grateful for that. But you’ve done far worse for Tirasta City. You are Anathema, and even in these times of crisis, the Wyld Hunt still rides. Word will get out, and they will come. They will use our riches, steal our food, and terrify our people. If their whim decrees, civilians and soldiers will die. And they will interrogate our citizens until they find where you have gone, and they will find you.”
“I understand, I apologize, and I agree – I will leave your city as soon as possible, but my allies are still in the city, and they have done nothing wrong. I can’t leave yet.”
“Fine. Both of you are marked Anathema, but I can keep you safe for one night. You’ll stay in my barracks tonight. We will discuss your nature and drink tea. And at first light, you will leave Tirasta City forever.”
“Yes, I understand.”

V’neef Lucia led them into her barracks, and true to her word served them tea and struck up a conversation. Naturally, it led to the Immaculate Philosophy. While Lucia was no fanatic monk, she did believe in the teachings of the Dragons. (Or, the teachings that the Sidereals had written and claimed came from the Dragons.)

“You see,” she said, “this is why I favor the Immaculate Philosophy. What you did tonight, Rising Sun, was a mistake. But as one of the Exalted, we cannot excuse your mistakes. What will be your next mistake, as a god-king? Will you destroy a city, as a mistake? Lead ten thousand men to their deaths, due to a mistake? Maybe you might dabble in sorcery, and unleash the whole force of Malfeas upon the world – another honest, simple mistake.”
“I have learned, and I will not repeat my error.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that. I’ve given you enough of a shouting that you won’t want to do that again. The important thing is that you did it once – and as an Exalt, there are mistakes which you can’t afford to make, not even once. This is why I believe that all essence-users should receive training in what they are, before they have a chance to come into their full power.”
“And who will do this training? The Dragon-Blooded?” Kara interjected.
“You can’t deny that the system of the Blessed Isle does one thing well: it teaches the Exalted to be Exalted. The children of the Scarlet Dynasty go through years of primary and secondary school, before they are even of age to Exalt. The weak and the stupid are culled out of the lot early on, and trust me, there are idiots even among the Exalted.”
“But that allows learning along only one person, one group’s line of experience. I would rather learn to deal with the world by being in the world.”
“There is much of the world where the touch of civilization does not extend, where the newly Exalted might not find a mentor for years, perhaps decades. The Wyld Hunt is an attempt to solve that problem, in an admittedly ugly way – dealing with the newly Exalted before they have a chance to make a catastrophic mistake. I don’t believe that demons have possessed you, but I do call you Anathema, because of the potential destruction you can bring. I did some time with the Wyld Hunt, years ago. I did some reprehensible things, but I did them with an eye for justice, and for the continued existence of Creation – whereas the Anathema were granted tremendous power, but no training and no obligation to use it correctly.”

The discussion went on into the night, and both sides learned something. They were both firm believers in their point of view, but not fanatics, and there were good points, counterpoints, rhetorical lunges and parries, and ultimately they agreed that both sides had good points but great flaws, and an Exalt and a Dynast would never see eye-to-eye.

In the meantime, Gicer’s monkey stole himself a dagger. Fas’rial bought a firewand, apparently fascinated with the power of fire. Elentari took her armor and left Billi Idolu for the second time. Kara and Rising Sun rose at dawn and left Tirasta City. Celeste packed up her supplies, and they met again at the edge of the forest near town.

Fas’rial summoned the Stormwind Rider, and as V’neef Lucia watched from afar, they sped off toward the nearby mining town which had been conquered by the Lunars.

Beri

11-22-2005, 11:47 PM

Session 28: Concerning Lunars

At Kara’s suggestion, Fas’rial slowed down the Stormwind Rider, and they disembarked on the edge of the forest approaching the mining city which had been taken by the Lunars. They noticed that the area around the city had been cleared of vegetation and cover, and a few barricades and watchtowers had been erected.

Elentari and Fas’rial went off into the forest together, taking the momentary break to search for food and supplies.

Gicer crawled through the trees to the edge of the forest, and analyzed the city. Only a single beastman wandered around the streets, although there were observers in each watchtower. In fact, the place seemed to be guarded by less than ten soldiers. Of course, being a mining town, there was a grand, gaping shaft at the back of the town, and Gicer suspected that they might find an unpleasant surprise waiting for them below.

However, Gicer slipped up a little, and a beastman’s sharp eyes caught a glimpse of him from three-quarters of a mile away. The call of a shrill horn wafted over the air as the beastman signaled to his fellows, and Gicer took that cue to retreat back to his fellows.

They discussed their plans – should they fight, flee, or something else? But then they noticed a beastman approaching them – one, a white-furred goat-man with finely brushed fur and long robes. Rising Sun advanced to meet him. He approached with no weapon, bowed, and began speaking in Forest-Tongue.

“Greetings. Word has spread of a mighty circle of the Exalted in the Hundred Kingdoms, and our forces extend a greeting. We have no wish to confront you, unless you give us reason to. I would take you to my master, so that he might speak with you further.”

Rising Sun responded. “Your master is no threat to us?”

“My master is a great threat, but if you give him no opposition, you are not his enemy.”

Rising Sun retreated back into the woods, and they conferred. Kara, Rising Sun, and Celeste would go with the beastman, making a journey of several days north, while Gicer and Elentari (who had returned by now) would follow behind. Fas’rial, they supposed, would catch up.

They walked, for long days, further into the Hundred Kingdoms, past cities with enslaved humans, past long swaths of destruction, and into the very heart of the formations of the beastmen and Lunars. Men and women with silver eyes and spiraling tattoos watched them as they passed. Hundreds of thousands of beastmen were arrayed, weapons at the ready, waiting to join the battle. And judging by the smoke in the distance, the battle’s front was only fifty miles or so away. They were now about three hundred miles from Nishion, capital of the Hundred Kingdoms.

And through the city they marched, led by this noble beastman, until they were led to the central palace where the city’s leader used to be. The tapestries had been pulled down, and the fine furniture lay in a burned heap in front of the building. They were led into the stripped and bare antechamber, now just a stone room, and told to wait.

They waited until the leader of the Lunars emerged from his upstairs retreat – Mind of Wind, a grand hybrid of bird and man, who looked over the Sidereals with his eagle (literally) eyes.

“So you are the Exalted who, alone, cleared a town. A hundred beastmen, fallen in only instants. So, tell me – who among you slew the most beastmen in hand-to-hand combat?”

A moment’s discussion, and Celeste stepped forward. “I suppose that was me.”

“Then let us test your courage!” He lunged forward at her, but a moment before his blow landed, Kara slipped in the way, led by Secrets of Future Strife, and blocked the attack with her sai. She did take a scratch from his claws, but invoked the Shield of Mars and transferred the damage back to Mind of Wind. Then Celeste lashed out at him, hooking him with her Infinite Weapon and tossing him aside. He slid away, regained his clawed feet, and grinned. “Good. Now the negotiation can begin.”

He asked why they had come to the Hundred Kingdoms, and Celeste gave a description of Blasphemy of Starlight, the dark Sidereal they had been hunting. He nodded. “I remember her, standing next to Ma-Ha-Suchi as if she considered herself his equal.” They discussed back and forth, both sides realizing that the other was not really their threat. It was a stalemate of sorts – the Lunars could destroy the Sidereals, but they might lose hundreds or thousands of their own in the process.

In time, he agreed. It was no loss of honor to him, and he found a bit of satisfaction in giving an Exalt directions to her hated enemy, even if Ma-Ha-Suchi found the woman useful at the time. Their leader didn’t need her, of course! The Sidereals left, guided by a beastman with the general body of an eagle, and warned by Mind of Wind that if they brought any harm to Ma-Ha-Suchi, he would find them, and he would end their lives.

Somewhere a distance away, Gicer and Elentari hid in the overgrown ruins of a city, practicing some astrology to better themselves for the upcoming battle. As they worked, they heard a crashing coming toward their position – a stout, powerful monster, stepping unerringly toward them, crashing his bladed shields together with each step. “Come out, come out! Hide like cowards if you want, and be cut down like dogs, or face Gyrkan, the Serrated Barricade, and maybe you’ll earn yourself mercy!”

Elentari wove the Invulnerable Skin of Bronze around herself and stepped out, and he recognized her as a sorcerer, Exalted, and one of the powerful few they sought. “Surrender honorably, and you will be an honored prisoner. Resist, and learn your folly.”

By the time he had finished talking, Elentari had finished her spell, and the earth around him cracked open, oily black smoke coalescing into five black cobras, dripping with venom. They struck at him with deadly force…and scraped off, unable to penetrate his skin. He stood there, not resisting. Elentari sent the Death of Obsidian Butterflies against him, leaving a mere scratch which healed before her eyes.

Gyrkan threw a few clawed swipes at Elentari, keeping her angry, but not injuring her. The fight was well in his control; Elentari simply had no capacity to harm him. But Gicer, in the trees above, saw a chance – if his body couldn’t be hurt, he would attack the Lunar’s eyes. From his bag, he drew a flashbang compound, and hurled it to the ground. It burst with a thunderclap and a wave of light, and by the time Gyrkan’s eyes cleared, they were gone. Gicer leapt down and wrapped Elentari in his shimmering, stealthy robes, and they slipped through the city – hiding Elentari in a barrel to suppress her blazing anima, and finding places and moments to hide as thousands, tens of thousands of beastmen combed the city searching for them. Gicer faded into the shadows, and bolted from cover to cover until he was out of the ruins, and hidden deep in the forest.

“Hey,” came a whisper from above him. Fas’rial hung upside down from a branch. Hesitant, they quizzed him, to ensure a Lunar had not slain him and taken his identity, but Fas’rial’s answers seemed to ring true. “I’ve made an alliance with the forest lord of this place,” Fas’rial said. “He will take us where we need to go.”

The very forest coalesced into a great face of leaves, which tipped its leafy head to them in respect. “Your friend has explained much to me. Chaos in the Hundred Kingdoms harms all life in it, even the plants of my domain. I will speed your journey, and perhaps you can save my lands.”

Fas’rial swung down from the tree, laid a hand upon its wood, and opened a gateway into the spirit’s sanctum. Gicer, Elentari, and Fas’rial disappeared inside.

The others, Kara, Celeste, and Rising Sun, enjoyed a long and arduous trek to the south and the east, following the beastman who soared above them and urged them onward, giving them not enough time to rest. Celeste got violently ill on the jungle ailments of the east, and it bugs crawled through their clothing. They journey onward.

Fas’rial, Gicer, and Elentari likewise traveled through a forest. A more accurate description would be that they traveled through the idea of a forest, a forest lord’s home. Filled with life and indescribable beauty, without any disease or discomfort. They slept in downy boughs, ate sweet nectar fruits, and drank crystal clear water while fish swam exotic designs for their pleasure.

A month later, in the south, the others walked on, trusting their journey to their guide. They felt they were close, and as the sun set, they bedded down to rest another night. Then a wind blew through the forest, and the leaves rustled and twisted, and two saplings wove and knotted themselves together in a gateway before their eyes. And, with a soft pop, Elentari, Gicer, and Fas’rial returned to them. With the five Sidereals and Solar reunited at last, they turned their attention onward. The Nameless Lair of Ma-Ha-Suchi lie only a few dozen miles further.

Celeste gazed toward the horizon with her eyes, blue and flecked with starlight. At the Nameless Lair, her long search would end, and the final sentence of the tale would be vengeance.

Beri

12-06-2005, 11:19 PM

Session 29: The Nameless Lair

The Sidereals crested a hill and came out of the wilderness overlooking the Nameless Lair of Ma-Ha-Suchi. Beneath them sprawled a terrifying army – beastmen of all sorts, led either by grand, fearsome half-monsters, or by silver-eyed, tattooed and delicate men and women. All eyes turned to the Sidereals (and Solar) as their bird-man beastman led them through the crowd toward the manse itself, a grand silver step-pyramid with architecture dating back perhaps beyond the First Age. Some Lunars snarled at them and hissed threats, while others simply watched with cold, calculating eyes, confident entirely in their ability to slay the group before they could even react.

However, one friendly voice called out to them! Amazingly, it was Captain Dace – the Solar mercenary they had last seen five years ago in Nexus!
“Shouldn’t the Arcane Fate mean he wouldn’t recognize us?” Kara asked.
“He’s a high-Essence being, maybe he remembered,” Gicer replied.

Dace was there to confront Ma-Ha-Suchi, to ensure that his raid on the Hundred Kingdoms would not end up directed toward Nexus next. He had waited for over a week to speak to the Lunar leader, but considered himself in no particular hurry; for now, his intent was diplomatic. Another Exalt was also with him, a white-haired, white-robed girl who said nothing while Dace warmly greeted the group – and, after Rising Sun showed his caste mark, embraced the younger Solar as a brother of the Dawn. He introduced his traveling companion as Arianna, a Twilight.

Celeste strode forward, onto the steps of the Nameless Lair, calling for her double’s, and Ma-Ha-Suchi’s, attention. The silver of the manse glimmered as she stepped upon it, casting a warm golden glow across the surface.

Then, the lord of beastmen himself, Ma-Ha-Suchi, emerged from the inner chambers with a grunt. His goat-legs bent back, and massive, coiled horns adorned his demon-like head. He took notice of Celeste, and bade her explain what she felt was important enough to sacrifice her life, and the lives of her fellows, at the Nameless Lair.

Celeste tried to tell him that she was looking for her sister, who should be here, but Ma-Ha-Suchi would have none of it. “No man or god slays a hundred warriors, and wades through a hundred thousand, to petition the lord of the Silver Pact about ‘family’.” He knew Celeste and her group were Exalted, and that his dark Sidereal ally – Blasphemy of Starlight – was likewise powerful. That narrowed her purposes to either servitude or revenge, and it wasn’t hard to guess which one it was.

But honor among beastmen is a complicated thing, and the Sidereal had served her use. And if she couldn’t defend herself against a Circle of Exalts, she was hardly an ally worth having at all. Ma-Ha-Suchi stepped aside, and pointed his huge, furry paw upward several steps on the manse. And there was Blasphemy of Starlight…indeed, perhaps she had been there all along, and the Sidereals had failed to notice her until she was pointed out.

“You bastard! We had an agreement!” Those were all the words she wasted, for her next moments were spent chanting and weaving arcane magics. The battle was on.

Caught momentarily off-guard, the Sidereals took a moment to prepare their scene-length Charms. A few attacks were launched at Blasphemy of Starlight, but she danced joyfully aside as she wove her spell. Elentari had brought two demons, a Blood Ape and a Hopping Puppeteer, but Blasphemy also had reinforcements – a Blood Ape, a Metody, and a Tomescu.

Swiftly, Blasphemy completed her spell, digging her fingers into the very heart of the world and wrenching, pulling, tearing it wide open. A yawning black void lay beyond her rift, and through it spilled a thick black blood. And from the underworld stepped a massive, black, howling machine – the Pallbearer of the Iron Casket, formerly Chosen of Endings and Elentari’s double.

For a moment, it looked as if Ma-Ha-Suchi might join the fray, but he was distracted by a shout as Dace stepped onto the base of the manse. “Remember me, Ma-Ha-Suchi? I had a different body, but we fought in the First Age, and I defeated you. Now face me again, for the fate of Nexus!” The Solar and the Lunar leapt into the air, crashing in a thunderclap of silver and gold above the manse.

Seeing their leader in combat, the beastman and Lunar hordes around the manse let out a shout, and began to charge up the great stairs of the Nameless Lair.

Eager to avoid wasting time on the warstrider, Celeste hopped backwards into Kara’s arms, who hurled her over the demons to land a heavy blow on Blasphemy’s shoulders. The dark Sidereal danced out of the way, but blood on the manse told that the blow had struck true.

Gicer and Fas’rial leapt toward Pallbearer of the Iron Casket, but he neatly parried their blows and delivered crushing retribution to Gicer. For some reason, however, he still chose to use the flat of his blade, delivering massive bashing damage, shattering ribs, and knocking Gicer into unconsciousness, but not killing him.

The demons continued warring against each other, aided by Elentari. She set the Hopping Puppeteer to work dismantling a section of the manse, hoping to destabilize the essence flows.

The beastman horde approached. Arianna, who had been quietly chanting while Dace fought, rose on wings of essence above the manse, and erupted into a pillar of blinding light. The manse responded in kind, the essence of its demesne set free, and the wrathful clouds of essence pushing the hordes back. She gave Dace a narrow smile – this would be a personal fight, Solar against Lunar, Sidereal against Sidereal. Her spell would see to it that interruptions were kept to a minimum.

Rising Sun, using the powers of the sun to their best effect, shot several Solar Spikes at the demons still protecting Blasphemy. Concentrated holy light struck them, and they flickered out of existence like a snuffed candle.

The hole into the abyss still remained, however, and what fell through next was unexpected. Not one, but two Abyssals – imposing figures clad in dark soulsteel armor. They grappled with each other. One was the darkly beautiful boy who had taken Elentari’s arm. The other was hidden behind an ornate faceplate, fully covered from head to toe in soulsteel. The other raised a blade, and stabbed in through the heart of the first, who sputtered and bled sickeningly.

Celeste still jousted with her double, throwing blows and counterblows, magical thrusts and feints. Finally, she successfully hooked her Infinite Weapon between her double’s legs, and lifted Blasphemy over her head. In the same motion, her Infinite Weapon became a sledge, and she brought it down in a merciless swing.

Blasphemy of Starlight, sorceress of the dark Sidereals, perished as her crushed head broke free of her body and sailed away, bouncing and rolling down the steps of the manse. The blue aura which had surrounded her boiled out in a wave of essence, knocking down beastmen and snapping nearby trees in two. Celeste stood in this wave, soaked in the power, and found a part of herself that she had never realized she had lost.

That just left the problem of the warstrider, and he was being a thorny one – blocking blows left and right, and dealing vicious retribution. Even Kara’s combo was ineffective – even though it was unblockable, and ignored his massive Warstrider armor, he was able to use Duck Fate to avoid the worst of it. With each multi-ton footstep, he crushed the stone and moonsilver of the manse, now fully resplendent in a violet aura which clashed and fought against the auras of the surviving Sidereals who stood against him.

Elentari, meanwhile, had been charging another spell, a favorite of hers. She raised a finger and pointed, and from her shadow emerged tens of thousands of dark, glossy butterflies. They danced across his armor, leaving deep scrapes but not penetrating. And then, within the whirling torrent of death, the armor shuddered, and did not move again. Violet light spilled out of the seams of the armor.

As Arianna’s spell completed it’s run, the manse flickered and flashed with essence, and suddenly all the Exalted were moving more slowly, their artifacts weighing them down. Her spell had freed all committed Essence in the area, thus ending all Charms and de-attuning all artifacts. It would have given them a chance to strike their well-protected dark brethren…if they had not already slain their doubles. Such is the way of sorcery – it can’t be stopped, even if unnecessary.

Somewhat dizzy from the effect, the Sidereals wished to ensure their foe was deceased. They pried and prodded, and tried in vain to open the Warstrider, but were unable to even budge the armor. Then Ma-Ha-Suchi walked over, brandished his mighty moonsilver claws, and ripped the heavy armor in two. (His battle with Dace had ended with both of them laughing and lauding the other’s strength, having been utterly unable to harm each other.)

Out fell a withered young man, clad in only the simplest of robes, with a prayer strip tied across his eyes, covered in dried blood. Across his throat was a single, obsidian-flecked cut, and from that lucky butterfly, he had bled to death.

Ma-Ha-Suchi stood back and glared at the Sidereals and Rising Sun. Dace and Arianna, both exhausted, limped over to the group. They were still surrounded by beastmen and Lunars, and stood before an impossibly powerful foe. As Ma-Ha-Suchi opened his terrible maw to speak, they knew that his next words would either spare or end their lives.

Beri

01-26-2006, 05:27 PM

Session 30: Trouble in Paradise

It’s been a while since I wrote one of these session summaries! We had this session over a month ago, but I just never got around to writing up the session summary. (So lazy!) We’re working on finding a time that works with everyone now, and we’ll start having more Exalted sessions soon.

As our last session before our Winter Break, this one brought some changes. Fas’rial had to leave the game a week earlier, and this is Elentari’s last session. I have new players interested already, but it’s sad to see people go!

This session begins with the Sidereals (and attached Solar) still standing on the glowing steps of the Nameless Lair of Ma-Ha-Suchi. Two dark Sidereals lay dead. Two Abyssals tumbled out from the gate into the Underworld, and one now lay dead by the other’s hand.

The Sidereals attempted to parlay with this new figure, to determine his intentions, but communication was impossible. He could not speak, and when they approached him, he reflexively turned aside their touch and swatted them away with his vicious soulsteel blade. Finally, they determined a few things. He didn’t want to hurt them, but he couldn’t say that he wouldn’t hurt them. And he definitely indicated that he wanted out of his armor.

The question was asked – would they accept this Abyssal, take him with them? A few of the Sidereals responded ‘absolutely not’ – those who remembered most fondly the lash of the Underworld, the pain of dark betrayal. Others were willing to give a second chance to any repentant soul.

Their conversation was cut short as the mighty warlord Ma-Ha-Suchi stepped forward to them, stopping in a short bow. “You are strong, and I respect that. However, you have seen the Nameless Lair with human eyes, and blasphemy must be punished. Kill them all!”

Ma-Ha-Suchi’s beastmen swarmed forward from every direction, even from above. With a shout, Arianna called up the stormwinds, aided by Fas’rial. The characters climbed on, along with Dace and Arianna, the rushing wind giving them only a moment to make their escape. The Abyssal stepped forward, and Arianna shouted at Elentari not to trust him, to leave him to the fate he openly accepted with a dark heart. In a moment of doubt, Elentari reached out to him, and pulled the black warrior onto the storm cloud. They shot off Northeast, only barely outpacing the swift hordes which pursued them.

The Sidereals shouted directions to Arianna, who had no choice but to trust their instincts. Having found the dark Sidereal, Blasphemy of Starlight, they assumed that a gate to Yu-Shan must be nearby – and using their heavenly senses, they found it. Would it work, or reject them like the others? With the beastmen still on their scent, there was no time to decide – Elentari Opened the Spirit Door, and Sidereals, Solars, and Abyssal rushed into heaven.

No Celestial Dogs guarded this gate, and one side of the actual door into Yu-Shan looked broken and twisted, blasted open with dark energy. As they passed through that portal, though, things seemed normal in Yu-Shan. Spirits rushed to and fro, burdened down with paperwork, hardly sparing a glance at the returned Sidereals. They expected to find Yu-Shan a smoldering wasteland, but instead it looked to be running at peak efficiency!

Rising Sun turned to the Sidereals and explained that he had to return to Creation. He had been away from the Cult of the Illuminated for too long, and he had a responsibility to teach them. The Sidereals saw him off and helped him return to Creation, leaving them alone to deal with heaven.

Taking a moment to confer, Kara recalled a story about the head of the Division of Battles, Hu Dai Liang. Perhaps the greatest warrior in heaven, she always carries a spear, said to have the ability to cut any substance descended from the work of the Primordials. If anything could cleave Soulsteel, this spear could. Kara went off to the house of Battles. Elentari and Rising Sun stayed with the Abyssal, Fas’rial went to report to the Division of Journeys, Celeste returned to her manse, and Gicer went to sneak in and use Fas’rial’s shower…lightshow…cleaning thing.

Gicer, Celeste, and Kara, on their separate paths, noticed all the spirits running around, and how busy they seemed to be. Each decided to stop and question a spirit, to determine what the purpose of all this paperwork was.

Kara found the paperwork to be fairly standard stuff, all in order. She went with the spirit and assisted him with his task, then did a few other menial jobs before she remembered that she should be going to the house of Battles. How did she get so distracted?

Celeste, looking over the paperwork with a more refined eye for bureaucracy, found the loopholes. This paperwork was not simply time-consuming, but essence-enhanced and recursive, impossible to resolve. Hard work would produce a need for more hard work. She scented the trail of Salesh Enoi on this one – single-handedly entangling the whole of the Celestial Bureaucracy in reams of red tape.

Seeing perhaps an opportunity, Celeste filled out a form and had a spirit take it off, requisitioning ‘a weapon which can cleave Soulsteel.’

Gicer got it worst of all – as he read the paperwork, he not only found it all in order, but absolutely imperative! He suddenly understood why the spirits were so frantic, and took to task himself, counting the leaves on trees, cleaning between cobblestones, filling out claim forms for writing utensils so he could fill out a claim form for ink to fill out claim forms. By the time the other Sidereals found him, Gicer was exhausted and glassy-eyed, lost in the realms of meaningless bureaucracy until Celeste snapped him out of it.

At the division of Battles, all was in disarray. The guards attempted to halt Kara as she entered, but they didn’t have the correct authorization and paperwork required to ask Kara for her authorization and paperwork. Kara slipped through the throng, pushing her way to the highest level – the office of Hu Dai Liang. She knocked, and after receiving no reply, shoved the door open to find the entire floor of the grand chambers covered in scrolls and forms. Above it all, Hu Dai Liang flitted about on beautiful butterfly wings. On one wall, her great spear hung, radiating the very essence of Battles. On another wall, a grand map of Creation hung. Red dots flitted about, and Hu Dai Liang constantly took notes and cross-referenced what she was seeing, ultimately getting nothing done.

Kara looked over the huge map – red dots were clustered around the Southeast (“Where we just fought the Lunars,” she thought), the Blessed Isle (“Battles in the Realm…did they fall into civil war?”), the Southwest, and the Northeast. Most disturbing, however, was that much of the far West was not red with battle, but covered black, as if a great inkwell had spilled across the map. The West was not engulfed in war – it was simply gone.

Kara formally requested the use of Hu Dai Liang’s spear, and she resolutely refused. Kara began digging through the paperwork on the floor, until she came across the requisition form Celeste had filled out, for a weapon that could cut Soulsteel. Almost by reflex, Hu Dai Liang signed the form and handed over the spear. “This weapon is mine and mine alone, and may never leave this room if not in my hand. You will use it for now, and may take it wherever you need to.” The contradiction apparently did not register with Hu Dai Liang; under a muddle of bureaucracy, both statements seemed true. Kara bowed and slipped out of the room.

Back with the Abyssal, Kara brought the spear, and met Celeste and Elentari there. After a short discussion, the spear was wedged between the armor plates, and the Soulsteel was wrenched open. Inside was a dirty, sweaty young man, naked save for the few scraps of armor that still clung to him.

Elentari recognized him immediately. Before she was Exalted, she had a lover; a lover she had watched die, yet not die, pulled back from the brink of death by his own weakness and the force of darkness. Soon afterwards, she Exalted herself, and learned of the corruption of the Abyssals. And now, this man who she had thought lost had returned to her – but twisted from his choice to abandon his name and his self to the darkness of the Underworld.

The man was now known as the Sworn Blade of Destruction’s Tempest, and his old name only caused a dark aura to burst from within him, as it reminded him of the past he had lost and the service he was now bound to. He pleaded his case to her, that immediately after his choice was made, he was filled with regret. He sought a point of light in his own darkness, and found it when he discovered that Elentari was still alive. He betrayed his master, the Mask of Winters, and was rewarded by being encased permanently in a solid suit of armor, never again to feel the touch of the world. Now a fugitive, he hunted down the last Abyssal to have seen her – the Unmentionable Thrall of the One Darkness, who was himself hunting down Elentari after having sliced off her arm – and battled him, both of them falling through the portal opened by Blasphemy of Starlight before the Sworn Blade proved that he was the stronger Abyssal.

All of that brought him here, held at sword-point by Kara and Celeste. He told Elentari the plan that he had built – there were legends of the city which Whitewall once was, a holy sanctuary to the Unconquered Sun. He was convinced that if he traveled to this city, uncovered its secrets, and made penance, the Unconquered Sun might shine on him again – maybe by undoing the corruption, maybe by killing him and allowing his soul to rest in peace. But there was an answer in Whitewall, he knew – an answer he couldn’t find alone.

The other Sidereals warned Elentari that Abyssals are forces of corruption, not to be trusted. The man she knew is dead now; this man was a mere mockery. They begged her not to go, but perhaps Elentari had dabbled too much in the dark arts – enough to know that there are counterspells to every curse, and that even endings are not always the end of one’s potential. Such is the philosophy of Endings. With tears in her eyes – half-believing that she was sending herself to her own death – Elentari made her goodbyes to the fellow Sidereals, well-known to her after years of travel, capture, battle, and success. Elentari Rana and the Sworn Blade of Destruction’s Tempest boarded a Dragon Boat, to begin their journey to Whitewall. It swiftly disappeared down the canal, out of view.

Gicer met the other Sidereals, and Gicer described the feeling that had come over him. Salesh Enoi was close – he was sure of it. The only way for him to orchestrate such chaos would be from the Loom of Fate itself. Unwilling to waste any more time, they headed for the Loom directly.

No guards prevented their entrance, and they stepped onto a platform overlooking the massive, ever-flowing tapestry of the Loom of Fate, dozens of pattern spiders working below. Across from them stood Salesh Enoi – unarmored, seemingly unprepared for battle – toying with an ornate dagger.

“You’ve done well. I felt the shudder of the death of my fellows, even from the pillars of heaven. You’ve disrupted my plans, brought to ruination nearly thirty years of machinations. But if you think this is the end, you’re wrong…this is just the beginning.”

Enoi dropped his dagger, and it fell towards the Loom. Gicer’s panic monkey reached out, stealing from the very threads of Fate as Gicer had taught him, and suddenly the dagger was in the monkey’s hand – but the dagger’s shadow continued to fall, a hazy dark shape that fell along a preordained route. The shadow touched one slender thread, cutting it neatly…and Salesh Enoi dropped dead.

Back in Creation, Rising Sun remembered.

The waves of his past crashed over him, and he remembered. The Solars. The Lunars. The Terrestrials. And the Sidereal Exalted, the betrayers. Images flashed through his mind – Sidereal Exalted on the shores of the Primordial War, sending legions to their deaths. Sidereal Exalted slipping poison into the drinks of soldiers as the celebrated, because fate decreed that not enough had died at the battle. Sidereal Exalted whispering words to kings, words they never even suspected were not their own.

He remembered now, the Sidereal Exalted giving the battle cries of the Usurpation. Legends say the Dragon-Blooded betrayed the Solars, but he saw now that they were mere pawns of the Sidereal Exalted. And there…there in his memories, he sees Gicer. Not the man he knew now, of course, but his essence, reincarnated long, long, long ago, a hundred rebirths in the past. He smirks and points a finger to Rising Sun, and a hundred Dragon-Blooded charge. Rising Sun fights them off, glowing in rage, but the last thing he sees is Gicer’s green, star-speckled eyes glaring down at him in mirth as the last Dire Lance plunges through his heart.

The Arcane Fate is broken.

Beri

02-22-2006, 12:51 AM

Exalted: The Sidereals – The Dimming of the Stars
Session 31: Too Many Missions, All of them Critical.

Two players left the game:
Fas’rial, chosen of Journeys
Elentari, chosen of Endings

Characters
The Sidereals:
The Directional Convention of Wood
Gicer, chosen of Secrets
Kara Laditaken, chosen of Battles
Celeste, chosen of Serenity
The Directional Convention of Air
White Tower, chosen of Endings
Varr Kalynn, chosen of Journeys

The Solar:
Rising Sun, Dawn Caste

With Salesh Enoi deceased, the Sidereals were still unsure what exactly had happened. Searching through Enoi’s office at the Loom of Fate, Gicer pieced together his plan. The chaos in heaven and the imprisonment of the Sidereals was only to buy time and distraction. Enoi’s research continued, in conjunction with another name that appeared in his notes – the Mask of Winters.

Enoi, through long work and subtle action, had bound a thread of the Loom of Fate to his own life thread. This thread continued through the stars, a silver filament binding the heavens into place. When that thread was cut, there was an instant before the Pattern Spiders rewove it – and it was in that instant that the Mask of Winters unleashed a great work of sorcery, and made the broken constellation of the Mask whole again.

So the Arcane Fate was lifted. Salesh Enoi had sacrificed himself to do it. The grand question remained, why? What did he hope to accomplish?

Celeste left the Loom of Fate, only to be showered with a rain of mission envelopes. Several came from a messenger spirit, bringing new missions from all over Yu-Shan. An elderly woman handed over one with a bow, the paper marked by a musical note. And two other Sidereals carried the rest, one mission for each Caste.

The first was White Tower, who had lost both arms, yet carried a peaceful attitude. What enlightenment as to the ways of life might he, Chosen of Endings, bring?

The second was Varr Kalynn, Chosen of Journeys. His hair flowed pink, his skin was green, and his stature was comically short, less than four feet tall. Yet the wisdom of centuries flashed across his eyes, warning that, particularly among the Sidereals, appearance is no measure of power.

Both were from the Directional Convention of Air, but they had not escaped the curse of bureaucracy which had struck Yu-Shan for the last five years. Now, they had been reassigned to aid the Convention of Wood – or, as Yu-Shan had now realized, the only Sidereals who could actually make a difference.

Although it had been only fifteen minutes since Enoi’s death, the missions already contained references to the Arcane Fate and the state of Creation below. Once the curse of red tape was broken, heaven was startlingly efficient at focusing on what really mattered. However, the missions were confusing – they sent the Sidereals in all different directions, and some even contradicted others. Ultimately, it seemed that the Sidereals would just have to do the same thing they always did – trust to luck and fate, and try to find where they can be the most use.

As the group conferred, bringing White Tower and Varr up to speed, Celeste attempted to calm the throngs of spirits. Although they were no longer compelled to perform paperwork, they now realized they had a five-year backlog on their real duties, and rushed frantically around Yu-Shan. When she announced that the Circle’s work had freed them from their mental imprisonment, she was greeted with a rousing cheer.

All of the missions involved going down to Creation, except for one suspicious envelope. Marked with a musical note, it appeared to be from someone named Withered Rhapsody, who claimed to be an old friend. With caution, they took a dragon boat, and traveled far from the Loom of Fate, into the darker and more run-down portions of heaven. The address given was a small house, and once they announced their presence, they were ushered inside.

The old woman within seemed, for all intents, friendly and a little senile. She offered the group tea and sandwiches, hobbling around the room and closing the windows as she went. When the windows were closed, the door sealed, and the room in near-total darkness, her voice changed.

“It’s fantastic to see you! It’s me, Evening Sonnet!”

Their somewhat-flighty Sidereal ally had somehow become a withered old woman. There is a Charm for that – casting off your identity to take on a new one. She explained that there were a few Sidereals and spirits in Yu-Shan who had managed to avoid the curse, but had become hunted because of it. She had taken up a new identity several times since then, escaping their eyes.

She explained the chaos the world was in, and the need, above all, for stability. “As it stands, the world is posed to shake itself apart, and without the Arcane Fate, we cannot subtly put it back into place.” She implored the Sidereals to do what they could – maybe not righting wrongs, but imposing order where there is currently chaos.

“I will always be your ally, but when you need me, I will find you. Who I am now will soon disappear.” She smiled, drifting back to her old woman voice. “I feel that this age is ending, the Second Age of Man. And you stand, perhaps, ready to be the agents to lead us into a new Age.”

As the windows opened again, she was again a tottering old woman, wishing her old friends farewell. Kara had a strange feeling that something bad was about to happen, so they filed into Withered Rhapsody’s front yard, taking a defensive position. The old woman waved goodbye, closing the front door.

Then her house exploded.

A golden light erupted from the house, tearing it to pieces. As shrapnel and dust rained down from the heavens, the Sidereal looked on with horror…then understanding. Evening Sonnet had abandoned this persona to become someone or something new. It would be interesting indeed to see where she would pop up next…

Down in Creation, Rising Sun was speaking with a number of his Solar allies at the Cult of the Illuminated, about the memories which had been returning to them. Several reported the strange, star-eyed individuals who haunted their dreams lately, and the visions of their own deaths. Rising Sun had no answers, but from his time with the Sidereals, he knew that too many questions could lead to a deadly outcome. He tried to quiet the Solars, hoping that he would soon get a chance to confront his star-eyed friends.

In the shadows of the nearby trees, a cloaked figure darted into concealment. Hushing the conversation, the Solars fanned out into the woods, searching every hiding place and tearing the foliage apart searching for their eavesdropper – but they found nothing. Among the most enthusiastic and angry of the Solars was Lyta, who now grew paranoid at the enemies which surely were spying on the Cult at this very moment. She insisted to Rising Sun that the best course of action was to unite the Solars, and strike hard at the Dragon-Blooded. Rising Sun calmed her down, and went to speak to Shen Aru.

Shen Aru, now an older man, smiled as his old friend Rising Sun entered his tent. They discussed the current situation of the world, and Shen Aru spoke about how, as the world became more chaotic, perhaps the best place for the Shining Ones was not hidden among their training camps, but out on the front lines, leading the people of Creation against their enemies. Or not…Shen Aru had to admit he didn’t know, but he wanted Rising Sun to find out. He asked Rising Sun to go to another Cult camp to the South, speak to them, and determine if the Shining Ones should unite. Rising Sun agreed, and requested to take Lyta with him; it would be a good calming experience for her, he thought.

A shape, crouched next to Shen Aru…a hooded figure, whispering in his ear. A glance up, only a blur of motion, and the figure was gone. An illusion? Rising Sun shook his head, convinced it wasn’t mere coincidence, and excused himself from Shen Aru’s chambers. Something was amiss at the Cult, and it was time to find out what. But how do you catch an invisible prey?

The Sidereals decided to go check on the Cult of the Illuminated, which required some teamwork. First, Celeste used her newly-learned sorcery to Open the Spirit Door, taking them into the underbelly of Nexus, as they had often come before. Following a still-familiar path, Kara and Gicer led the group up to the streets.

Celeste had one stop to make along the way. She returned to her old tea house, now become a brother, and made the current owner, Cynis Molu, an offer he couldn’t refuse. With her salary from Yu-Shan, she was able to lay down far more jade than the place was really worth. Molu hesitated, but couldn’t really turn down good money, so in a matter of minutes, the place belonged to Celeste again. She threw the various drug-addled patrons and whores into the street, and closed the doors, vowing to return soon and rebuild the place into a proper teahouse. As she left, she gave one more jade coin to Cynis Molu. “Hold on to that. That coin will save your life.”

Taking advantage of the confusion caused by the fleeing throng of whores, the Sidereals slipped out of the city, far enough away from Nexus’s people (and smell) for Varr to call to a more powerful strand of sorcery, and summon a Cloud Trapeze to lift the group into the sky and travel swiftly to the Southwest.

Perhaps too swiftly, for Rising Sun, watching the Cult of the Illuminated, happened to notice one cloud in the sky going the wrong way. Wary of ambushes and hidden foes, he nocked an arrow and let it fly – the shaft bursting into a dozen essence-copies in flight. Most simply passed through the cloud harmlessly, and White Tower took merely a grazing hit. But Varr decided it was time to land, and set the cloud down as Rising Sun approached, bow drawn.

The cloud dissipated, and Rising Sun greeted his friends. Introductions were made with Varr and White Tower, and the absence of Fas’rial and Elentari was explained. Rising Sun discussed, in a roundabout way, the visions he had been having, and some concerns about the Cult of the Illuminated.

As they spoke, they did not notice Gicer be grabbed from behind, a hand over his mouth. “Gather your allies, without the Solar. I have much to tell you.” The voice was female, but as Gicer turned, nobody was there. Suspicious but curious, he kept this to himself for now, and rejoined the others as if nothing had happened.

As the sun lowered in the sky, the Exalted decided that they weren’t going to get anywhere tonight; they would resume their respective missions and investigations in the morning. The rest of the night, they wasted away in the Cult’s tavern (for they had grown large enough that a small town had grown around them), trying more and more powerful drinks that were unable to faze their Exalted constitutions. As night progressed, Rising Sun invited them into the large, connected tents which made up his home, where they might have one night’s rest in peace.

Beri

02-23-2006, 02:14 PM

Session 32: Hunting Party

Rising Sun
Feral Beast of Celestial Grace
Kara Laditaken
Gicer
Varr Kalynn
(absent: White Tower)

Waking up in the morning in Rising Sun’s home, the Sidereals prepared to start their day. When they stepped outside, though, they weren’t prepared for what they faced.

Not a foe, or a monster, or such – no, all they faced was the mortal workers of the Cult of the Illuminated. People who noticed them, recognized them, waved hello. People who seemed to stare, snicker to each other, joke at their expense. With the Arcane Fate having worn off, the Sidereals found themselves being noticed and remembered, and paranoia swept over them. Naturally, nearly everyone was friendly, just joking and laughing, but it was still utterly alien.

Imagine, going through your life, knowing that whatever you do today, it will be forgotten by tomorrow. And then, suddenly, people remember. Think of all the little jokes people make each day, all the tiny barbs that are actually ways of showing friendship and intimacy. Now imagine that you’ve gone through your life without ever having to face those barbs, or know those little jokes. How would you handle it?

Celeste screamed, and ran back inside Rising Sun’s home, hiding under her bed. Gicer activated Walking Outside Fate, vanishing from mortal eyes and hiding in the forest. The other Sidereals frowned, glaring at the populace as they stepped back inside. They just needed a moment of calm breath to collect themselves.

Rising Sun, of course, was used to being noticed, and didn't understand what concerned his friends so. One of the camp’s laborers laid down the rake he was using, and came up to Rising Sun. “Good morning! Shen Aru asked to see you again.”

In Shen Aru’s tent, the founder of the Cult had changed his mind. “You shouldn’t go to the other Cult camp, Rising Sun. We need you here. I’m sorry, but I’m certain they’re doing fine.” A complete reversal from what he was saying last night. Rising Sun certainly trusted Shen Aru, but then again, the trust of mortals was easily swayed…

Kara remembered that Gicer had wanted to speak to the Sidereals together, so they went out into the forest, not far from the town but concealed from sight. In the forest, they heard what sounded like a hunting horn…seemingly distant, but coming from all directions at once. Warily, they checked the area, but sensing no danger, continued their conversation.

Gicer talked about the cloaked figure who had pulled him aside, and without realizing it, she was there. Ayesha Ura, looking tired and worn.

Ayesha told them how she had been unable to enter Yu-Shan for five years, unable to get any help or relief on her quest. Five years ago, she had taken on the duty of following, advising, and training the Solars. Now, it had become a desperate rush to confuse and misdirect the Solars, especially as their memories returned. There were more Solars than she ever imagined would exist united under one banner, and it all hinged on the words of Shen Aru and Rising Sun. “We want to recreate the Solar Deliberative, not unleash an unstoppable horde of god-kings upon Creation.” Ayesha begged the Sidereals to assist her in disrupting the Cult and ensuring that the Solars did not gain more influence than they could handle.

Five years had certainly changed Ayesha Ura, from the noble supporter of the Gold Faction into a harried woman desperate to hold Creation together. The Sidereals considered her words, but mostly brushed her aside – she had been a thorn in their side in Yu-Shan, and what she insisted now sounded like outright betrayal of their friend, Rising Sun. The argument was about to heat up, when the hunting horn sounded in everyone’s heads once more.

From the leaves of the forest itself strode seven hunters, all identical, clad in whisper-thin finery and carrying impossibly thin bows. Their features were beautifully sculpted, yet hard; their eyes the very symbols of determination.

Celeste dove aside, hoping to solve this battle through thought, rather than force.

Ayesha Ura simply wasn’t there anymore – in fact, she never had been, maybe you were thinking of someone else?

Varr shot an arrow at an overhanging branch, hoping to cleave it with his Exalted strength and send it crashing down on the horsemen below. He tore a great gash in it, but without archery Charms, was unable to bring it falling down.

Gicer took the Snake Style, leaping down from the trees to ambush one of the horsemen. His attack was only moderately successful, however, and now, the hunters had a target.

Kara rushed forward to defend Gicer, but the martial artist had to survive arrow after arrow, all shot with unearthly precision. Even defended by Snake Style and Walking Outside Fate, enough shots hit their mark that he went down. Not dead, though - these creatures were using fowling arrows, only bruising and battering him into unconsciousness.

Celeste dove in front of the hunters, holding aloft a trophy made of her own hair. She recognized the hunters as Fair Folk, and that they would not depart until they had their trophies. The battle stopped, suddenly, the air growing calm.

A beautiful man, a shining example among perfect examples, stepped forward and bowed low to Celeste, taking the trophy. He unsheathed a knife and slashed Gicer’s shoulder – a shallow cut, just enough to drip blood – and took that too.

Celeste showed him the parchment for one of the missions they had been given. It asked them to locate four spirit courts at the edges of Creation which had gone missing, and mentioned that the Fair Folk were likely candidates to know what had happened at the edge of Creation. The man nodded, and gave Celeste a gracefully-painted map of Creation, with the symbol of a leaf near the Elemental Pole of Wood.

The man, the leader of the Fair Folk, walked back behind his seven hunters and motioned for them to continue. They raised their bows and let a volley fly towards Kara. She dodged, twirled, and moved with impossible grace, knocking the shafts aside with Serenity in Blood, a perfect defense she had been training. As she dodged, she ran her hand along her axe, cutting her palm and spreading her blood on a stone.

Again, the battle stopped, and she tossed the bloodied rock to the leader of the Fair Folk. With hardly a whisper, the hunting party faded into the wilderness.

The Sidereals gathered together, breathing in relief as their attackers left. And then, Ayesha Ura was there again, as if she had never left.

“I’ve never seen Fair Folk this far inland…we’re 3000 miles further than the Balorian Crusade ever came. We’re too obvious, now. Without the Arcane Fate, we’re hunted…hey, wait!”

The Sidereals had enough of her ramblings, and returned to the Cult of the Illuminated, leaving Ayesha Ura fuming. Maybe she was right, and the Solars were growing too strong. Maybe she was wrong. But these Sidereals had grown out of taking orders – they were now confident in their ability to make their own decisions, without their elders holding their hands. They would save Creation in their own way.

Beri

03-03-2006, 12:11 PM

Session 33: Gicerstown

Rising Sun
Celeste
Gicer
White Tower
Varr Kalynn

White Tower woke up, later than his fellows, dressed, and went outside. He was faced with the same feeling as his fellows; recognition. He rushed out of the main part of town, finding Michael, one of Rising Sun’s Solar allies, working in the field.

White Tower asked Michael if he knew where White Tower’s allies were, to which Michael replied, “Well, yes, there they are!” Varr, Celeste, and Kara stepped out of the forest – Gicer being dragged along behind on a rolling stretcher Celeste had whipped together.

In privacy, they discussed where to go next. The missions they had been given in Yu-Shan insisted that time was of the essence, but that was probably just hyperbole by their superiors in heaven. Kara’s double was causing some manner of havoc, somewhere in the West. Civil War on the Blessed Isle, the Bull of the North in the North, and Ayesha Ura’s urgings to do something about the Cult of the Illuminated.

At Kara’s urging, they decided to go West. Whatever else was going on in the world, the dark Sidereals had a major hand in engineering it, and removing the last of their order certainly couldn’t harm the world. That just left the issue of finding a ship.

They met again with Rising Sun, who also planned to bring the younger Solar, Lyta, on this journey as a learning experience. When they mentioned the West, his eyes lit up as he immediately thought of sailing. The Sidereals considered their other options – using the Cloud Trapeze to go West, or using the gates of Yu-Shan – but they realized that their double would probably be aware of such approaches. Perhaps a normal ship could slip by.

Rising Sun offered his advice – in order to make it to the West, without needing to stop and resupply at the Blessed Isle, they would need a ship, or multiple ships, that could make it in one go. The only place with shipmakers of that caliber would be Port Calin.

Loaded down with money from their salaries in Yu-Shan, the Sidereals merely laughed at the expense. A ship? A fleet? When you’re paid in solidified prayer, the tinkling of a few jade coins doesn’t become as important anymore.

Over the next few days, Rising Sun prepared a basic plan of how they would sail West, while the Sidereals worked on Astrological effects in order to hide themselves once they approached Port Calin.

Gicer invoked the college of the Mask, becoming a bookish priest. It was a test of the changes in the Mask, but Astrology still seemed to have the same effect. Reverend Bill Eye, he called himself, although I might have the spelling wrong.

Celeste became Ledall Syrah, a mortal member of one of the Great Houses of the Scarlet Dynasty. She needed a Destiny where she could sling some money around. She invoked the college of the Peacock.

Varr declined to do Astrology at this time. Kara put on her destiny as the bodyguard Thorn again.

White Tower used the college of the Sword – the end of hope – to create a salesman, Jil-zeioh, who had lost his arms, yet was forced to continue to peddle gloves for a living. A comedic character, or a tragic one? The Sword demanded tragedy, and White Tower’s demeanor became heavy-hearted and tired.

After their preparations, the Sidereals and two Solars (Rising Sun and Lyta) set out north, toward Port Calin.

Port Calin was miles wide, with ships and trade wagons constantly moving in and out. The architecture was extravagant, although pale in comparison to Yu-Shan, with towering pagodas, flying arches, and expertly sculpted lions and dragons. Business abounded at shops and tea parlors, as gentlemen and ladies in formal, yet colorful, clothes went about their business.

Yu-Shan was the perfect city, Nexus was the perfect dump, and the Cult of the Illuminated was merely a training camp. Port Calin was the first real city they had been in for a while, and it reminded them of their mission – this was Creation, this was something worth saving.

Celeste set out, with Rising Sun in tow, to find a shipmaker and negotiate a price. At the docks, she spoke to the dockmaster, who listed to her request. “That’s a big need. The only shipmaker who might want to take it on is Kurita Siha, but he’s been swamped lately.” Celeste took Siha’s information down, and went off to find him.

Finding his workshop nearby, they entered. Inside was a the very picture of industry; teams of men working on projects, building the spine for a boat, sanding wood, making plans, and all. The air was filled with shouts and sawdust, but Celeste managed to get an assistant’s attention.

After Celeste gave the basics of what she was looking for, Rising Sun talked with the man about the precise specifics of the ship they would need. He nodded, taking down their information on a sheet of parchment. “I can show this to Siha, but I have to let you know that we’re extremely busy right now. We do a lot of work for the nobility of Port Calin. You’re right that we’re probably the only shipyard in Port Calin with the capacity to do this, but we can’t get started until we’ve cleared out our workload, and that’ll be another two months at least.”

They departed on friendly terms, although Celeste was mildly disappointed. The fellow certainly seemed willing to work with them, and that was a start. They just needed to increase their priority, or make an opening. What would that take? Money? Intrigue?

Back in the market, Gicer, Kara, White Tower, Varr, and Lyta were simply pushing through the throngs of people, looking at various stalls and shops. One store sold alchemical wares, and Gicer wanted to replenish his supply. He prepared to steal from the store, but White Tower noticed that the shopkeep was aware, and tried to signal to his companion to give up the attempt. White Tower stepped in front and struck up a conversation, which Gicer used as an opportunity to filch the herbs he wanted. White Tower sighed, bought some minor things, and overpaid the man – about as much as the value of what Gicer had stolen.

The next shop had various ‘First Age Trinkets,’ although the Sidereals, with their knowledge of the First Age, didn’t recognize the form or function of any of them. Most likely they were just pieces of clockwork, or polished stones that could be sold to gullible townsfolk for a price.

The next store had a large ceramic statue of Gicer out front.

Gicer was done in unpainted ceramic, in a defiant pose, the symbol of Secrets shining on his forehead. And there, manning the stall, was a man…the monk, from Fas’rial’s manse, who Gicer had lost his temper with and carved the symbol of Jupiter into his forehead in order to break his vow of silence. And there was the mark of Jupiter; scarred over on the man’s forehead, but still visible. Gicer just felt fortunate he was wearing a Destiny at the time.

Around this time, Celeste and Rising Sun returned, and all the gathered Exalted just stared at the statue, and the man, and the statue, and Gicer.

The man introduced himself as Horsehair Saint, and told them about the statue – a figure of the man who turned his life around, and showed him that there was more to life than a single vow could encompass. Now, he sold beautiful paintings, many of them landscapes with the star of Jupiter shining just a little brighter than the rest.

“What should we do with him?” the Sidereals asked each other. Was he a risk? Were his paintings just mortal astrology, or had he tapped into something deeper?

As they discussed, a few noblefolk came, perused Horsehair Saint’s wares, purchased an expensive painting or two and went on their way. Whatever the truth behind his paintings was, he was certainly getting noticed by the nobility, and not doing a bad turn for himself.

A rumble shook the earth beneath them, and a scream arose from the end of the crowded market. A two-story building collapsed in on itself, falling forward onto the crowd in an explosion of dust and rubble. Over the carnage stepped a massive creature, the skeleton of a great beast with a mane of bone and eyes of fierce diamonds. Blood coated its paws. Two more of its fellows strode over the rubble to stand beside it, and their diamond eyes simultaneously caught sight of the Sidereals. They charged through the crowd toward the Exalted, their razor-sharp claws and bodies tearing at the mortals of the market, instantly transforming their wake into a sea of blood and gore as they barreled down on our heroes.

Beri

03-15-2006, 10:21 PM

Session 34: Bones and Blood

Charging through the crowd, sending sprays of blood from hapless bystanders as they went, the trio of bone lions charged toward the group. Rising Sun, his disciple Lyta, and Gicer took to the rooftops, while White Tower, Varr, Kara, and Celeste prepared for battle in the streets of the city. They tried launching attacks as the lions approached, but the lions were able to dodge – and in doing so, their massive bodies tore apart a handful more people. They would have to wait until they entered melee range.

One lion rushed for Celeste, and White Tower moved in to support her. She and the lion danced around each other, her striking with her staff, and the lion clawing at her, both scraping and scratching the other and doing little real harm. White Tower flung shards of essence, cracking bones but hardly slowing the lion down.

The second lion went after Kara. She crouched back, ready to unleash her combo – then realized that the essence display would ruin her subtle mission. Instead, she moved with fluid grace, using Impeding the Flow to guide her movements as she slipped past the bone lion’s claws. She drew back and threw a punch at the lion, cracking its skull and sending it reeling back. Varr tried to assist her, but was unable to lodge any arrows where they would do any real damage.

Gicer moved across the rooftops, thinking he was safe from the lion. Instead, the third bone lion charged, full-speed, into the lower levels of the building Gicer was on! As support pillars buckled like toothpicks, and the building began to fall, Gicer leapt to the next one. It was at this moment that the bone lion continued its charge, running straight up the wall of the next building, and catching Gicer in midair with his claw. Gicer tumbled to a bloody stop, and the lion scrambled up to battle him on the rooftop.

Rising Sun and Lyta unleashed a pair of arrows – one flaming, and one glowing with the power of Solar Spike – but failed to do any damage. The arrows just got lodged between the creature’s ribs and in its skull. Now Gicer was fighting a flaming bone lion with glowing diamond eyes. “Stop helping!” he yelled.

Finally, Celeste managed to crush the skull of one lion, and it tumbled into a sharp pile of bone. Kara pounded at the second, aided by a few shots from Rising Sun, until it too lay in pieces. Varr began gathering power for a spell. Gicer leapt from the rooftop as the building began to catch fire. Just as the last bone lion leapt out into the air after him, Varr unleashed the Death of Obsidian Butterfies, destroying the lion utterly and shearing much of the top of the building away.

Celeste scooped up the six diamonds which were the lions’ eyes. The Exalted made a last check of the streets, then disappeared into the alleyways of the city amidst the chaos of the still-panicked marketplace.

Looking at the diamonds, the group looked to see if there was any useful information to be found. They discussed their construction, realizing with their Exalted intelligence that these diamonds would not have formed in the East. They appeared to be from the West – an export from the mines of the Skullstone Archipelago, most likely, the shadowland islands ruled by the Bodhisattva Anointed by Dark Water. A suspicious location, and a likely place on the borders of fate for Kara’s double, the dark Chosen of Battles, to be hiding.

Celeste put her Resplendent Destiny back on and went into one of the teahouses in the market to try to instill some calm, while White Tower did the same on the street. Rising Sun hit the bar, while Gicer slipped amid the rubble and liberated some valuables from the ruined shop fronts, including a lovely new dress for Celeste.

Celeste went again to the shipbuilding workshop of Kurita Siha, to again see if there was space for him to build a ship for them. As her Respendent Destiny was that of a Dragon-Blood, she offered her services to the workshop as labor. Although she was not trained enough to do technical labor, they put her to work sanding and sealing wood.

Thus the Exalted split up, and thus they did come back together at the Green Turtle’s Neck Inn, a few streets away from the market. There, they got separate rooms – one for the male Sidereals, one for the female Sidereals, and one for the Solars – and, after their long day of battle and work, turned in for the night.

Beri

03-31-2006, 11:40 AM

Session 35: Red Rain

Returning to her room at the Green Turtle’s Neck, Celeste discovered a strange sight – Kara, surrounded by blood and broken chairs, with her axe in hand and her eyes blindfolded. Kara explained that she was working on a new Charm, and a destroyed hotel room certainly wasn’t the strangest Sidereal training result Celeste had ever seen.

“Today,” she said prophetically, “the streets will run red with blood.” A thunderclap accented her statement, as the skies opened up and seasonal rain began pouring down upon Port Calin.

A shout rang out, as well – Lyta, awakening from a nightmare. She ran into the arms of Rising Sun, yelling about how the Dragon-Blooded were coming for her, and how real her dream had seemed, how terrifying as they hunted her down and she could not escape. Rising Sun told her it would be all right – as long as she kept her powers subtle. Lyta was still upset, and the Sidereals grew suspicious of the dark and stormy night. Kara and Celeste set out to investigate the market.

There, amidst the rain, the bodies still lay piled up after yesterday’s assault, and as Celeste predicted, a red runoff skated down the street and into the gutters as the rain washed their blood down the market road. The Sidereals inspected the bodies, for they should have ceased bleeding by now, but found nothing to worry about. Or rather, they found many things to worry about – the reason the bodies were still bleeding was not magic or trickery, but because the wounds inflicted were perfect and infinitely sharp. The bone lions which had attacked them were, in every sense of the word, killing machines. What might they have to face next?

Checking the diamonds she had stashed in her pocket, Celeste discovered that all six had crumbled to dust and dirt. The magic holding them together must have faded away. Too bad, too – they would have fetched a fine price.

Meanwhile, Gicer was watching Horsehair Saint’s stall, as he remained open for business even as the street was still red with carnage. A nobleman came by, shaking his head – “I need something to distract me from this mess” – and purchased a small painting, tucking it under his cloak. Gicer followed him as he rushed back to his home in a better part of town.

Once there, Gicer began Walking Outside Fate, making him effectively invisible to the mortal noble and his servants. He whispered paranoid thoughts in the noble’s ear – turning the man against his servants, and the servants against each other, whispering and manipulating with such care that they thought his thoughts were their own. Within minutes, the noble had murdered his servant, and the house was a scene of bloodshed. I believe the house was aflame, as well. Gicer retreated, having gained some strange pleasure from twisting mortal lives.

Celeste and Rising Sun checked in with Kurita Siha, who welcomed them in and began to discuss plans. Celeste had been telling Siha to think big, and he had the perfect idea for them – he had a damaged Imperial Trireme Tender which had been left under his care a few months ago, the Dragon-Blooded crew having been too impatient to wait for the repairs. He offered to fix it up and modify it for Celeste, trimming the turnaround time from months to weeks. Celeste thanked him graciously, leaving a good-sized amount of jade to seal the contract.

There was a roar like a thunderclap, not far from the inn and the market, and the Sidereals rushed over there to see what the commotion was. The house of a nobleman – not far from where Gicer had caused his mayhem – had erupted into flame, the walls instantly shattered and debris strewn about. All the servants were gathered outside – they had all been off on errands – but Magistrate Wilhelm was nowhere to be found. Sensing dark forces, perhaps Abyssals, at work, the Sidereals split up to begin an investigation.

Celeste questioned people, but got little response. The gathering crowd didn’t have any answers for her, and even got her some angry looks when she got in the way. Kara, meanwhile, busied herself with going through the nearby rubbish bin where the Maigstrate’s papers might have been taken, but came up with little to explain where he might be. And heck, I’m sure Varr and White Tower were doing stuff, but damned if I can remember. I ought to take better notes.

At the market, Gicer encountered Horsehair Saint again. Gicer was wearing his Resplendent Destiny, and got into a conversation with Horsehair Saint. Horsehair Saint mentioned how worried he had been over the recent incidents, and Gicer turned the blame onto him. Hadn’t the Bone Lions been charging towards his stand? Hadn’t the nobleman whose house had burned down been shopping at this stall? And hadn’t he brought danger to Port Calin by worshiping Anathema through his paintings? Horsehair Saint grew more and more panicked (for the supernaturally-charged words of an Exalted are difficult to ignore) and fled the market.

Celeste’s investigation led her to the temple of the Immaculate Dragons in Port Calin, where she discovered Horsehair Saint there, praying for forgiveness to the Dragons. Celeste revealed herself to him without her Resplendent Destiny, trying to calm his soul with her supernatural powers – but he panicked again, shouting “Anathema!” and bolting out of the temple.

Shortly thereafter, five armored monks rushed into the temple, bearing the tell-tale signs of the Dragon-Blooded. They began escorting people out, searching through the temple for Anathema. Celeste put her Resplendent Destiny back on and confronted them, shouting that she had a right to know what was going on as a Dragon-Blood, but the monks roughly escorted her out without responding to her entreaties. Dragon-Blooded or no, the Wyld Hunt will treat you the same – rudely. Celeste tried to use a Charm to force the monks to bow to her, but as she did, a chime that one of the Dragon-Blooded was carrying rang, and he looked straight at her. “I think you should leave,” said the earth-aspect who had Celeste’s arm.

Celeste ran into Kara, and they returned to the temple to investigate further, leaping to the rooftops to eavesdrop on the Wyld Hunt below. The Hunt was questioning the priest of the Immaculate Dragons, asking him how he could allow such corruption to come to his city. He had a duty, they reminded him, to report any activities which were even remotely related to the Anathema. Celeste, feeling sorry for the browbeaten priest, attempted to use Presence in Absence Technique, speaking through the priest to stand up against the Dragon-Blooded.

Again, the chime rang with the use of essence. The fire-aspect grimaced, turned away from the priest, then in a blur of motion drove a flaming fist into the priest’s gut. “We knew you were in league with them. This is the fate of those who fall victim to their guiles,” said the monk as the priest twisted in pain, impaled on his fist.

Her anger having reached the boiling point, Kara leapt down to engage the Dragon-Blooded, while Celeste screamed with sufficient force to be heard across Port Calin.

Beri

04-12-2006, 04:58 PM

Session 36: Against the Wyld Hunt

Kara, Celeste, and the Dragon-Blooded dueled back and forth within the temple of the Immaculate Dragons. Their ferociousness had caught the Dragon-Blooded off guard, but they were no fools – they were a well-trained Wyld Hunt. They immediately spread out, using ranged attacks and sending their strongest to parry and soak the Sidereals’ blows.

Chips of stone rained down upon them as combatants slammed into the walls, floor, and statues. Electricity filled the air, and shouts rippled the earth as the temple exploded into multicolored light, animas intermingling in the small space.

In the end, it was the Sidereal mastery of fate and the future that won the day. Although the Dragon-Blooded drained Kara of much of her essence, they were unable to mount any attack which could break Impeding the Flow. She struck out at the Dragon-Bloods who lacked defenses, and dealt them great injury.

Having heard Celeste’s shout, Gicer grabbed Varr and hustled across the town toward the temple (his armor boosting his speed). He dropped Varr at the temple’s door, and Varr immediately began charging the Death of Obsidian Butterflies. That’s when he noticed someone standing next to him.

Of medium height, bald, but standing proud, in plain yet complex robes, stood a man Varr had seen before. Chejop Kejak, leader of the Bronze Faction and perhaps the oldest living Sidereal. “The battle seems to be well at hand,” he said, “but I have important news to bring. The decision is yours, shall I interrupt them and finish this?”

Varr agreed it was good to get things done fast, and Chejop seemingly vanished. Then, he was in the middle of the temple, poised on a web of threads. Then, with a flash of his fists, the five Dragon-Blooded were thrown around the room, beaten, and reduced to little more than red paste. Chejop dropped to the floor, brushing off his robes, and the other Sidereals recognized him. His prowess was little surprise, from someone who was rumored to have mastered every martial art ever created.

On the bodies, they found notes as to where they had been gathering, the course of the Wyld Hunt investigation, and such. Chejop told them some of the details about what had been happening with fate.

The Sidereals mentioned that the Mask of Winters wished to speak with them, and Chejop considered it. The Deathlords are unpredictable, he said, and ultimately, every one wishes the destruction of all that lives. On the other hand, they have proven themselves to be short-sighted and disorganized, and it is entirely possible that one Deathlord would seek to undo the work of another. Treat the Deathlords like mortal dignitaries, Chejop advised, but never forget that ultimately, they serve our greatest foes.

Chejop mused that fixing the Mask must have been somehow crucial to the Dark Sidereals. Healing the Arcane Fate certainly caused a great deal of chaos in Creation, and set his plans on the Blessed Isle back seven hundred years. At the same time, the Sidereals had already recovered and created new plans and new Destinies, so the overall effect was minimal. He expected them to have something bigger in mind, and recommended they seek a way to re-break the Mask as their top priority.

The question of allegiance came up, and Chejop acknowledged that the divisions between Gold and Bronze mattered little anymore. The Cult of the Illuminated seemed to bring the Solars together for a good purpose, but on the other hand, so did the Solar Deliberative, thousands of years ago. Will history repeat itself? Chejop thought so, but acknowledged that this was not his Age; these new Sidereals would usher in the next Age, for good or ill.

With that, Chejop turned to return to the Realm. “I must attend to my duties, but do not hesitate to count me as an ally. Ah, there is another thing, the news which I originally came to bring you. Festering Mark of Contagion – the corrupted Sidereal of Battles – is sailing out of the West. Sailing to find you, I believe, and bringing the Wyld with her. Be wary.”

“I will return shortly, to pass on Astrological Effects which might be useful to you. I’ll see if I can speed up that boat’s construction, too.”

The Sidereals took the notes of the Dragon-Blooded, and hastened to the cave which was indicated. As expected, they found Magistrate Wilhelm there. Panicked, he wanted to alert the town to the dangers of the Anathema, but the Sidereals managed to calm him down. “It’s okay. We give you our word that the town is safe.” They escorted Wilhelm out of the cave, then set to looting the Dragon-Blooded’s stuff.

Back at the Inn, the Sidereals thought about where to go next. Lyta tried to back out of sailing to the West – claiming she still had night terrors of the Dragon-Blooded – but Rising Sun talked her out of it. The Dragon-Blooded were much more terrifying now that she had actually met one, he understood, but the only way to conquer fear was to face what terrified you.

With a few weeks to kill before the boat was complete, they decided to take the Mask of Winters up on his offer. Varr conjured a cloud, and they flew South towards the city of Thorns.

Landing and entering the city, they were set upon by hordes of the shambling dead – a veritable mass of zombies, and although the Exalted tore through them without hesitation, more rose from the ground or materialized from the air every second. A whirling daiklaive tore a path open in front of them, and a pair of deathknights, clad in armor of ebony and bone, beckoned them over. “Do hurry. They haven’t seen the living in quite some time, and they’re hungry.” With the deathknights holding the line, the Sidereals made for the gates of Thorns – and in the distance, the towering corpse-citadel of Juggernaut, the mobile necromantic fortress of the Mask of Winters.

Approaching through the city of the dead, the Mask of Winters waited upon a throne, an open-air amphitheatre having been constructed at the base of Juggernaut. “Approach. I have been expecting you.”

With little hesitation, the Mask of Winters confessed to having fixed the Mask using necromancy. There were five corrupted Sidereals, but he only made a deal with Salesh Enoi. Now, with the number of corrupt Sidereals reduced to one, the Mask of Winters had no reason to stay on their original arrangement. “I admit that I am a mercenary,” he said, “and a mercenary with many mouths to feed. I will repeat my ritual, again breaking the Mask as it has been since the First Age, in exchange for money and resources, and some measure of protection from Heaven’s retribution.”

The Mask of Winters answered Chejop Kejak’s wonder about why the Arcane Fate was broken. “Enoi told me much of the power that Paradox has over the Sidereals. By forcing Sidereals to rely more on their Astrology, he hoped to create countless new Paradoxes. I believe the corrupted Sidereals had found a way to use Paradox to their advantage.”

There was one other thing the Mask of Winters needed, however. “Breaking the Mask will be more difficult than fixing it, for it goes against the natural way Creation was built. It must be done the same way it originally was, in the First Age – using the Eye of Autochthon, the last relic of the Great Maker. The Autocthonians have found the Eye, and it is currently in their possession, in the Southwest.”

As they walked away, the Mask of Winters sat there, his grinning mask hiding his face (if he even had one) from view. Had they made a new ally? Or were they risking corruption? Well, the choice would come in time – for now, it was back to Port Calin.

Beri

04-21-2006, 02:23 PM

Session 37: Blood Upon The Waves

Having concluded their business with the Mask of Winters, the Sidereals were eager to hasten from Thorns. White Tower and Rising Sun, exhausted from their literal brush with death, rested in the cloud trapeze which Varr summoned from the air around them. Gicer considered writing on Rising Sun’s face as he slept, but a bite from Zenith (Rising Sun’s familiar) set him straight.

Returning to Port Calin, Celeste checked on their boat. Progress had gone tremendously quickly, and Kurita Siha expected the modified trireme tender to be ready in another few days. They returned to the Green Turtle’s Neck Inn.

There, a wastrel in shoddy rags sat at the bar…except that the Sidereals saw through the Resplendent Destiny, seeing the truth of Chejop Kejak beneath. With a touch, he passed on some powerful Astrology he had been preparing, and mentioned that he had pulled some strings – both metaphorically, and the literal strings of fate – to speed their journey. He bundled himself up and walked out the door, whispering, “hurry.” Rising Sun did not see through the Destiny, and only saw his friends taking a strange interest in a ramshackle old beggar.

At the market, Gicer and Kara decided to earn a little extra coin. Gicer, in his Resplendent Destiny as a priest, wandered the market street, talking to people and taking confessions. Horsehair Saint had removed the statue of Gicer, and was now selling smooth river rocks, as far from sculpture as possible. Gicer nodded in approval…but did that one rock just glimmer green, the color of Jupiter? Just a trick of the light…

Kara took on a job as a bodyguard at the armor shop, wearing her Destiny as Thorn, the noble thug. Due to her brawny figure (at least in her Destiny) she also served as a mannequin, glaring at passersby while clad in ornate plate mail. The armor shop did a great deal of business that way.

Gicer happened by, and with a grin, engaged the shopkeep in conversation. “That girl out front is about the same size as my sister, and there’s a gift I’ve wanted to get her.” Gicer pointed out a tiny chainmail bikini – surely on the wall more as a novelty than a real item for sale – and insisted that ‘Thorn’ try it on. Grudgingly, Kara went into a back room with Gicer…no, she didn’t wear the bikini, she just slapped some sense into Gicer.

In a different part of town, Celeste was performing tea ceremonies for a modest fee. Over the next few days, she attracted several followers, converts to the healing power of tea. Three girls, in particular, came to her after two days, telling Celeste about how she had inspired them, and how they would form a sisterhood and go spread the gospel of delicious, healing herbs. Elated, Celeste hugged them and begged them to return later, as she secretly and subtly began crafting an astrology request to heaven.

Celeste freely used her astrological power, and finally the Pattern Spiders, guardians of the Loom of Fate, had enough of her meddling. She suffered Pattern Bite, as the Paradoxes she had created caught up with her and poured venom into the thread of her life. With the astrology complete, Celeste fell to the cobblestone street, coughing up tea leaves mixed with blood.

Fortunately, Gicer happened by, and was able to contain the situation, forcing the crowd back and picking Celeste up to help her. They hastened back to the Green Turtle’s Neck, where Celeste spent the next two days sleeping, healing, crying, and screaming about tea. Gicer left Lyta watching Celeste.

After having tooled around Port Calin for nearly a week, their grand boat, the modified trireme tender, was ready. Rising Sun gave it a final check, and nodded his approval. The port hands seemed surprised when only seven individuals boarded a ship meant to be crewed by anywhere from 17 to 200 people, but they insisted they would be all right, that it was a test of their mettle. A team of rowboats towed the ship out from the shipyard into the open ocean, and left it to drift there.

Then, Rising Sun descended into the crew quarters, and unleashed his essence. From the corners and wood of the ship, a dimly glowing phantom crew stepped forth, mindless in all things except the operation of a ship. Mere motes of men, they took the oars of the ship, and soon she was swiftly cutting waves across the sea, toward the West.

Sea voyages are tests of patience, especially on the open water. Nothing but clear sky and sea, the sound of oars slapping water, and the constant undulation of the ocean. It was almost a relief when, six hundred miles from the Blessed Isle, Gicer noticed two ships pulling in behind them, showing the symbols of House Mnemon.

Varr summoned a sky spirit, and commanded it to impair the progress of the Dragon-Blooded ships. The wind turned against them, and a cold rain began to fall upon the enemy. An Immaculate monk stepped to the bow of the lead ship, carrying a jade javelin, and hurled it into the sky with the sound of a thunderclap. It blew a hole clean through the clouds, and, although the menacing sky remained, its force was gone. The spirit had been driven away, or worse, slain altogether.

Coming closer, the ships rapidly overtook the slower trireme, calling out “Raise your sails and come about! These are the waters of the Realm, and we are the customs enforcement of House Mnemon! Prepare to be boarded!”

Unable to outrun them, the Sidereals prepared for battle. Upon the deck of the lead ship, a water-aspected Dragon-Blood stood prepared to leap to their deck, clad in glittering black jade. Even in the overcast sky, the jade seemed to glow, brighter and brighter…in fact, the entire ship did, clad in a shimmering haze of light.

With unmatched force, the two Dragon-Blooded ships erupted into a shower of timber and cloth, much of their mass vaporized as two white-hot streaks of pure light and essence, as big around as a yeddim, scythed through their hulls. Leaping across the waves, hardly even drafting in the water, an impossibly svelte ship of moonsilver, ivory, and orichalcum cut through the water. It was a Solar ship…a ship of the First Age, which Celeste recognized as Dawning Sun Indomitable, a legendary warship lost to time. Now, it had returned to the world…and at it’s helm stood Festering Mark of Contagion, the corrupted Sidereal of Battles, and seven identical Fair Folk armed with longbows of gossamer and dreams.

The essence cannons trained on the trireme, which was hardly fast enough to dodge. As they unleashed their golden payload, the sea itself rose in a hardened wall to intercept the shot, scattering the essence into a painful, but harmless, glow. As the light faded from their eyes, Wuni-Yan, god of the Yellow River, floated in front of the ship. “I’m far from home, but our debt is repaid. It is up to you now.” He dropped into the waters below, and the wall of water fell.

Dawning Sun Indomitable collided with the trireme, and the battle was joined. Festering Mark of Contagion leapt to the other ship, where Kara waited for her. Kara swung, but the dark Sidereal danced aside. A flurry of arrow fire was unleashed and returned, as the Fair Folk targeted Rising Sun, and he let loose golden arrows in return. Gicer struck at the dark Sidereal as he crossed to Dawning Sun Indomitable, attempting to attune to the essence cannon, but was shocked by the essence dissonance and forced to retreat back to the trireme.

As the battle continued, Gicer, Kara, Varr, and Celeste felt their bodies turning against them, their muscles spasming in uncontrollable ways. Celeste identified it as Iphimedeia, the disease known as The Revel Outside The Sealing Of The Gates. Those afflicted with it wasted away, as their flesh turned against them and forced them to dance until they died. Celeste realized that it was Festering Mark of Contagion herself – the very air around her was saturated with disease. If they could not finish this battle quickly, the corruptive essence poison would overtake them.

The Fair Folk and Rising Sun continued their archery exchange, and the battle raged back and forth, from the trireme’s deck, to its extended pontoons, to the deck of Dawning Sun Indomitable. The dark Sidereal managed to strike Gicer and White Tower, as well, inflicting the pain of a hundred mosquitoes – the Feverish Essence Discharge Atemi. Now afflicted with two diseases each, it became more and more uncertain who would be victorious in this battle.

Beri

05-06-2006, 12:24 PM

Session 38

The battle against Festering Mark of Contagion raged back and forth, between the massive trireme and the warship, Dawning Sun Indomitable. With disease and contagion spreading among the Sidereals, their time grew shorter and shorter. White Tower and Gicer were bleeding essence, thanks to the Feverish Essence Discharge Atemi, and everyone was infected with Iphimedeia.

Under a weak, but constant hail of arrows, Rising Sun went down. His glowing armor kept him safe from death, but a pummeling stream of shot still rained down upon him.

Festering Mark of Contagion scurried up the rear mast of the trireme. In response to an attack, she leapt from the mast, plunging headfirst towards the deck – and Lyta. As Sidereal and Solar met, Festering Mark of Contagion thrust her hands forward, the air erupting in a blazing bolt of essence, tearing through the ship and sending a spray of steam from the water below. Both Festering Mark of Contagion and Lyta were nowhere to be found.

The Sidereals took their moment’s opportunity to deal with the Fair Folk. They only had a short window, though, before Festering Mark of Contagion returned – but by that time, Gicer was back at Dawning Sun Indomitable’s essence cannons, attempting to reattune them to himself. He forced his anima into the ship, ignoring Festering Mark’s cries of “Wait, you don’t know what you’re doing!”

Celeste had a flash of clarity then, remembering something she had heard about Dawning Sun Indomitable’s defense systems. As the bolt of light surged from the essence cannon towards the Fair Folk, it was bent and absorbed into the ship’s hull, which then discharged the energy outward – vaporizing the Fair Folk, and boiling the water below. Both ships erupted into the sky, carried on a sea of rubble and a geyser of steam.

Soaring through the air, the battle continued. Festering Mark of Contagion incapacitated the Sidereals, one by one, flinging them into the ocean. Feral Beast of Celestial Grace, or Celeste, put a stop to her, though – by sacrificing her own life to fuel a perfect success through her charms. Festering Mark of Contagion had strong defenses, but not perfect ones, and a 13-success attack struck her out of her dance, stunning her and deeply wounding her. Another strike and it was obvious that the tide of battle had turned.

“You can’t stop us. We’re the masters of our arts.” With those words, she leapt from the deck of the trireme, plunging toward the water below.

A siaka (shark) leapt up and ate her. Siaka is the wrong word, perhaps…this thing was at least a mile across, each tooth in its maw the size of a cathedral. Festering Mark of Contagion disappeared down its throat, a deep scream suddenly cut off by a crunch.

The grand siaka fell back into the water, the force of the wave shattering the trireme and throwing the remaining Sidereals into the water. There, smaller siaka latched onto their arms and legs, pinning them in place. They struggled at first, weak after their battle, until they realized they could breathe.

They were laid down on the beach of an island. A long, grey, rubbery island, with a tail, disappearing in the fog perhaps three or four miles away. The great siaka again! Sitting on the ‘island,’ not far away, was Dawning Sun Indomitable…and walking towards them, Ayesha Ura.

“I thought you might have taken a bit more than you could handle. Fortunately, Leviathan owed one of my previous selves a debt. I thought I deserved a break from the Cult of the Illuminated, as well, but I should really get back to that. Good job on that ‘saving the world’ bit.”

Ura turned away from them, writing some notations on a tablet she had. “And, there.” Her computations proved that the Calibration Gate to Yu-Shan should appear on Leviathan at this moment, and thus, there it was. “One more thing.” She stepped through the gate, and returned with baskets of food. “I doubt these will be missed in Yu-Shan. Do heal up quickly.” She turned back and left through the gate, which disappeared shortly after. The Sidereals could have followed her, but were more interested in their new prize, Dawning Sun Indomitable. As Leviathan began to sink back into the ocean, they grabbed the baskets and scrambled over to their new warship. The ship lowered into the sea, drifting quietly on the waves as Leviathan disappeared. Now, they just had to figure out how to activate the engines. It should be simple, right?

Beri

06-02-2006, 11:56 AM

Session 39: The Merchant of Paradise

It had now been three weeks at sea, drifting lazily on Dawning Sun Indomitable. Rising Sun continued to work tirelessly, attempting to attune to the ship, and there was still no sign of Lyta. Even though Ayesha Ura had brought them supplies from heaven, these supplies were running dangerously low. The sun beat down on them, as they were unable to get below deck, the doors being locked along with everything else on the ship.

The Sidereals passed the time in various ways. Celeste crafted a delicious cake out of seaweed and salt water. Gicer swam alongside the ship, diving after fish and tossing them on board. Sirens beneath the waves called to him, and siaka tried to eat him, but Gicer was fine – with a little help from Varr on the boat, holding the rope tied to Gicer’s waist.

Midway through the day, the ship gave an audible click. The whole thing. And within the span of ten seconds, doors were unlocked, the essence cannons whirred to life, and the great paddle-wheels dropped into the water and began spinning. “I got it,” said Rising Sun.

Celeste went down into the ship’s hold first, eager to get out of the sun and perhaps find some supplies. In the darkness beneath the ship, she held up her gem of starlight, and it began to emit a soft glow, illuminating the insides of the ship.

SNAKES ON A WARSHIP!

Celeste screamed, and the other Sidereals rushed down to aid her. The lower decks were filled with snakes, insects, frogs, overturned furniture, and all kinds of implements. Celeste and Varr recognized the majority of the items as being significant for various rituals – it was likely that much of their past pain, including the bone lions, had originated from this ship. Gicer and White Tower advanced forward, capturing or killing the snakes and other poisonous creatures as was necessary.

Looking through the various chambers below, they found several ritual spaces, some with hideous animal and human sacrifices strewn across the room. Some were still alive, begging for an end to their suffering. The Sidereals obliged, and set about also breaking ritual circles and removing the last ties that Festering Mark of Contagion had to Dawning Sun Indomitable.

There was just one room left, at the end of the hall. Locked. They worked to pick the lock, an impossibly complicated automaton, and flung the door open to find…another door, locked. With a sigh, they set about it again, another half-hour of work, until this door opened as well. Within was a disheveled office, papers strewn about, a large desk in the middle and bookshelves on the wall. The symbol of Mars, the Maiden of Battles, was painted on a wall in what looked to be blood. They looked over her papers and correspondence, which mostly confirmed what they had already found – five Deathlords for five Sidereals, each causing chaos in their own section of Creation. She had been tasked with bringing the Wyld deeper into Creation, and she considered her work a total success.

One drawer of the desk was locked, and they went about picking that one, too. Inside was a locked box. Opening that, they found a number of letters and notes, well-preserved. In them, Festering Mark of Contagion conversed with The Silver Prince, a Deathlord of the West. The Silver Prince promised her great power with success, and pledged his love to her, if only she would eliminate the last obstacles which stood in his way. For such a powerful woman, her heart was easily swayed.

Back up to the deck of the ship, then, where Rising Sun was contemplating where they could go to quickly find food. The Blessed Isle was close, but quickly ruled out, and the North would require a trek on land to find one of the trading centers. From the crow’s nest, though, Gicer noticed another ship passing them by further west – what looked like a merchant ship. Throttling up the propeller-engines, Rising Sun commanded Dawning Sun Indomitable to head towards that ship.

They brought Dawning Sun Indomitable up alongside the other ship, calling out to the captain who stood alone on deck. “Ahoy! Do you have supplies to sell?” He responded, “I have what you need.” Leaving Kara to guard Dawning Sun Indomitable, they climbed aboard the merchant ship.

They asked for food, and he gestured to the building next to him. “What you need is in there.” The Sidereals sensed something amiss, but Celeste caught the scent of tea wafting from underneath the door, and ventured a peek inside. She stepped in.

Rising Sun heard Lyta call to him from within the room, and stepped in to find her.

Varr saw light beneath the door, a strobing pulse of power, and stepped in to investigate.

Gicer half-overheard discussion of his own freedom – what sounded like the voice of his superiors, telling him he did not need to fight any longer. He stepped inside to find the truth.

And White Tower went in to find the others, after they failed to return.

(By the way, thanks to my players for roleplaying well, and going into what was obviously a bad situation. I’m glad you have that kind of trust in me.)

Celeste stepped into her teahouse, back in Nexus. Everything was just as she had left it, as if the Dragon-Blood had never taken over the place. Her old staff greeted her with a cup of tea and a smile, and she relaxed on the pillows, forgetting why she was so stressed out in the first place. Her task was over – it was time to enjoy what she had fought for, to sit in comfort and drink fine tea.

Rising Sun found Lyta in the cabin, safe and sound. She smiled sheepishly – “I made it. You didn’t need to worry about me.” They exited the cabin and stepped onto Dawning Sun Indomitable, and Rising Sun sailed the boat back to the Cult of the Illuminated, with his allies following his orders and giving advice when needed. The possibilities seemed endless, a new world stretched out before him, and he yearned to take his place as a leader, a ruler, and a hero.

Varr stepped onto a cliff overlooking a battlefield. Instantly, he realized that he wanted one side to win – and that side was currently losing. Ahead of him, sitting on an ivory pedestal, a book lay open, pulsing softly with hidden power. As he took it up and read from it, shattering lights lanced across the enemy formations, transferring his wishes directly into power with hardly a thought. With each page, the secrets of the universe unfolded in greater and greater clarity.

Gicer stepped into the great judgment chambers of heaven, where he found celestial censors gathered, along with his Sidereal superiors. “Gicer, you have done well,” they said. “Simply sign, and your duties to heaven are over.” He took pen to paper, and descended back to Creation, with the power of the stars but none of the obligation. And he went on a rampage – bringing vengeance to those who had slighted him, uniting broken kingdoms, raising an army in his wake, and bringing total domination to anything he brought his attention to. And if he chose to cease conquering, he did so with no regret. He had found total freedom.

White Tower found himself in the village where he had grown up, long ago, before his Exaltation. Friends greeted him, and placed sweet food and drink in his hands. Yes, his hands – he stood whole, strong arms on his shoulders. Remember, White Tower has been without arms for decades, if not centuries. It filled him with infinite pleasure to simply pick up things and turn them over, embrace his friends, run a hand over a woman’s body, and feel the pain in his muscles from a fine days’ hard work.

And from the air, in all their worlds, a quiet, gentle voice asked very simply, “Are you satisfied?”

All the Exalts answered yes, but…no. Something was wrong. Wasn’t there something we were doing? They couldn’t remember. Weren’t we going somewhere? The thought brought no recollection.

Varr was the first to break through his world. “A tome of sorcery like this should not exist. Power must be tempered by effort and humility!” He drew his hands back, gathering essence not into one of his new spells, but an old spell he knew very, very well.

White Tower passed by the cave system where he had lay trapped so long ago, and Exalted under the strain. Or would that be in the future? Something awakened in him…something that realized this was all false, impossible. “This isn’t who I am!” With a cry, he grasped each wrist with the other hand, and tore his own arms off. His friends gaped in awe as a white light surrounded White Tower, and his world began to dissolve.

White Tower blinked his eyes, adjusting to the low light. He was in a dark, dank cabin. Celeste sat on the floor, pantomiming sipping tea. Rising Sun stood on a stool, looking like a noble captain. Gicer laughed maniacally, commanding some unseen vision to advance. And then Varr Kalynn shot him in the face with Death of Obsidian Butterflies.

White Tower leapt aside as the obsidian shards coated the room and tore through the walls. In Varr’s world, these butterflies shattered the illusion, returning him to reality.

Gicer refused to be satisfied. What good was a world where his challenges just laid down before him?
Celeste remembered her duty. How could she enjoy her tea, when the world remained at danger?
Rising Sun remembered reality. Lyta was gone, and he couldn’t fix that. It would be better to the a slave in reality than king in a dream.

And, bit by bit, they returned to Creation, refusing to accept the gift that the Wyld-twisted merchant had offered them.
Gicer had killed him earlier, just to be safe, but that left more questions than answers. Was it a trick, a trap? Or a gift? Perhaps this merchant, touched by the power of the Wyld, wanted nothing more than to give people what they wanted?

Regardless, after the touch of the Wyld, he was better off dead. They looted the ship – his supplies still waited to be sold, below deck – and set off South. Large patches of the Wyld likely lay between them and the Southwest, and they braced their minds and bodies to survive them.

The Wyld swirled across the face of the world, and it hit them hard. Dawning Sun Indomitable cut through the Wyld West, unaffected by it, but the Exalted had to spend long days without sleep, fighting off the whispers of lost loved ones, the schools of flying fish, the glimmering lights and the bent reality of a land touched by pure chaos. Occasionally a creature of particular intelligence would emerge to harass them – something akin to the Fair Folk, but another shard removed from reality.

Gicer had been spending whatever free time he could wrangle focusing and concentrating on something Chejop Kejak had mentioned. Finally, he got it – Creation Smuggling Procedures. He wrapped himself in the thin layer of order that kept Creation together, and expanded it into a shield that encircled him. From there on out, it was a pleasant enough trip…provided you didn’t mind sleeping on deck, enjoyed the sounds and images of crackling chaos all around you, and never went more than a few dozen feet from Gicer. Yeah, it was still pretty bad.

Finally, they emerged from the Wyld, out of food and exhausted. Rising Sun checked his sea map of Creation, looking for the nearest neutral port to lay in. Bluehaven was marked further south, near where they were going, and sounded peaceful.

In short order, the ship’s propeller was tangled up by a thick sargasso sea. Although it couldn’t stop Dawning Sun Indomitable, it slowed their progress to a crawl. It wasn’t until they spied the two ships cutting through the water, unslowed by the sea, that the Sidereals remembered – oh yeah, Bluehaven is the home of the ruthless Lintha pirates.

On the upside, we have a warship.

They trained the essence cannons on the approaching ships and fired, cutting a great flaming swath through the sea. Energy flared across the ship’s hull, burning away the seaweed as wreckage from the vaporized ships tumbled through the air. The propellers spun to life, and they charged deeper into the heart of Bluehaven.

Beri

07-27-2006, 11:38 PM

It's been a while since I updated our Actual Play! A lot has happened since then, so I'm just going to go into the basics.

Session 40

As they approached Bluehaven, they came upon another ship trapped in the sargasso sea. They claimed to be escapees from Bluehaven, the family of a merchant who had bought himself a place in the Lintha pirate family without knowing what he was buying himself into. They decided to leave Bluehaven alone for now, and take them where they wanted to go - the Lap.

From the Lap, they left Rising Sun with the ship, Dawning Sun Indomitable, and the Sidereals went southwest to find the Autocthonians. They did find them, and a great deal of confusion and hostility ensued. Finally, an alchemical came to translate their language, and invited them into Autocthonia. They had the Eye of Autochthon in safe custody, and agreed to briefly lend the Eye to Yu-Shan's Sidereals, on the condition that the Sidereals stay a week and allow the Autochthonians to test them and learn more about the Exalted of the stars.

Finally, after many tests of essence, ability, and intelligence (and a profoundly humorous session), a group of Alchemicals came to escort them to the eye. They went in a submersible transport, through layers of water and oil and muck, past arcing towers of electricity, mechanical monsters, and worlds filled with steam, until they reached a great land of crystal and light. Within the heart of Autochthon, their guides led them to the Eye - or rather, the pedestal holding the Eye, for the Eye of Autochthon had been stolen!

Session 41

Tracking the thieves down led them to Gem, where they entered the lava tubes following the Eye's essence signature. They found several Alchemicals (the players' characters from our Alchemical side-game) fiercely guarding the Eye of Autochthon. They explained that the Alchemical excavation had weakened the mountain, and that only the stabilizing force of the Eye could keep everything from collapsing. Rather than allowing the Autochthonians to lose their stronghold of New Kadar (Gem), they willingly went rogue and took the Eye, sacrificing their careers for the betterment of Autochthonia.

As they explained, Gicer slinked behind them, aided by his infinite stealth. He tried to disable the traps by stealing the Eye right out from the middle of them, but inadvertently set off one of the essence mines set around the Eye. Destabilized, the cave system collapsed in on itself, crushing Gem under a massive rockslide, with the Sidereals and Autochthonians barely escaping with their lives.

Never one to worry about responsibility, the Sidereals rushed off to meet with the Mask of Winters. He had offered to repair (or rather, re-break) the skies, restoring the full powers of the Sidereals, and all he needed was the Eye. They met him near Thorns, in his corpse-citadel, Juggernaut. With a polite bow, he took the Eye with utmost reverence, and bid them farewell for the moment while he began his work.

The Sidereals went back to meet with Rising Sun, on Dawning Sun Indomitable. From there, they had a magnificent view. A pillar of black light surged up from Juggernaut, striking the dome of the sky and spilling, like ink, to the very edges of Creation, plunging the world into night. One by one, the stars twinkled into existence. Sheer force surged, felt throughout the world, as the Eye was invoked. In the constellation of the Mask, one star shuddered, twitched, and then, with a terrible scraping sound, moved across the sky, breaking the Mask once more.

But it was not a clean move. As the star traveled, the skies opened behind it - literally tearing open the night, revealing an even darker blackness behind. Great claws - each hand the size of Mount Metagalapa - grasped at the tear, and pulled it wider...something pulling itself down, clawing its way inch by inch into Creation. It tumbled and fell...something resembling a Blood Ape, the size of the Blessed Isle. The East was crushed instantly, the blight of Nexus and much of the Scavenger Lands crumbled to dust under the creature.

For the first time since the final blow of the first war, a Primordial walked Creation.

The shockwave of the moment of impact ended all life within two thousand miles, and as it touched the sea, it grew into a wave at least five miles high. Dawning Sun Indomitable was thrashed amongst the waters, and her Exalted crew thrown into the depths, sinking into darkness and unconsciousness beneath the waves.

voidstate

07-28-2006, 12:44 AM

...something resembling a Blood Ape, the size of the Blessed Isle. The East was crushed instantly, the blight of Nexus and much of the Scavenger Lands instantly crushed under the creature.

For the first time since the final blow of the first war, a Primordial walked Creation.

Oops. I bet your players faces were a picture...:D

Beri

07-28-2006, 12:49 AM

Oops. I bet your players faces were a picture...:D

Well, they knew something was coming. They knew I was getting ready to bring the chronicle to a close, and they knew that dealing with a Deathlord was a bad idea...but they're good players, willing to go along with their characters and the plot if it makes for a more interesting turn of events.
Still, it was a pretty good 'big reveal' at the end, and now my players are all psyched about what they're going to do about this little problem of theirs!

YerMum

07-28-2006, 03:20 AM

Well, they knew something was coming. They knew I was getting ready to bring the chronicle to a close, and they knew that dealing with a Deathlord was a bad idea...but they're good players, willing to go along with their characters and the plot if it makes for a more interesting turn of events.
Still, it was a pretty good 'big reveal' at the end, and now my players are all psyched about what they're going to do about this little problem of theirs!
Nice :D

Beri

07-30-2006, 02:01 AM

Session 42

The Sidereals, along with Rising Sun, blearily opened their eyes to see the inside of a massive, ornate dome. The air was abuzz with activity, spirits flitting about everywhere, and as they struggled to their feet, they saw a grand, three-dimensional map of Creation hovering in the center of the room, glowing brightly with various colors, with a great black mass imposed over the East.

Nearby, the Unconquered Sun discussed tactics with Luna, and the Five Maidens argued amongst themselves in a huddle. It hit them then - this was the inside of the Jade Pleasure Dome...and this battle strategy was some part of the Games of Divinity.

The Maidens took their Sidereals aside, explaining the situation. The Fair Folk sweeping in from the West. Lintha from the South. Linowan and Haltan armies blocking advances in the North. Demons all over the East, and the great Primordial in the Scavenger Lands. Chejop Kejak's death had stunned the great creature, and now Yu-Shan had a very narrow window of opportunity to figure out what exactly they planned to do to kill it...again.

Fortunately, armies had gathered under the banner of Heaven. Dragon-Blooded, willing to serve as lieutenants as they had in the First Age. Solars, the remainder of the Cult of the Illuminated, organized to take the front lines. The surviving Sidereals had taken up arms, bringing Warstrider and Lunar allies with them. Spirits and elemental dragons stood in formation, along with nearly 100,000 men, frightened but ready to serve the will of Heaven.

The Sidereals gathered to begin strategy, and within a few hours, White Tower had something put together which had a narrow chance of success...

Session 43

Celeste left Yu-Shan in the North, along with Sylvius Negretto, an Eclipse caste Solar, and Yurgen Kaneko, the Bull of the North. Their goal was to gain a temporary alliance with the Linowan, such that the Bull's icewalker tribes could march south freely to engage the Primordial's forces. Almost immediately, they came under fire by the Primordial - although still stunned, devestating bolts rained down, formed from nothing more substantial than the Primordial's malice. The Bull drew on his essence reserves to stop the bolts with perfect defenses, and as their troops were whittled away, they made for the Linowan peoples.

Kara led a force of elemental dragons, Rising Sun a force of Solars, Varr a force of Sidereals, and White Tower a force of Lunars. From different direcitons, they attacked the Primordial, tearing apart the demons which had been arrayed around him. The world ran black with blood, and as First Circle demons fell, stronger Second Circle demons took their place.

The battle raged fiercely for days - precisely the distraction that Gicer needed, quietly leading his Dragon-Bloods toward Thorns to seize the Eye of Autochthon from the Mask of Winters. But the great creators see all, and a wave of pain washed over his troops. He escaped, but in an instant, his Dragon-Blooded force - his best hope for taking the Eye - was no more. His Dragon-Blooded lieutenant took flight with the Wings of the Raptor, and they sped away, hoping to avoid any further Primordial attention.

Celeste was successful in dealing with the Linowan and Haltan, and a newly strengthened force poured out from the North. Now, Celeste began another plan. In the Southwest, where the Autochthonians battled the Lintha, she stepped through a shadowland, entering the Underworld. Her goal was simple - find the First and Forsaken Lion, fan his anger toward the Mask of Winters, and convince him to march his undead armies on Thorns and the Primordial. It was a task she was more likely to die than to finish - but sometimes, the fate of a Sidereal is to die well.

Beri

08-08-2006, 07:32 PM

Session 44: The End of Creation

Battling the demons from all directions, Varr, Kara, Rising Sun and White Tower gained some victories, and pressed in closer to the Primordial itself. Gicer continued his trek toward Thorns - only to find himself surrounded by a horde of deathknights. "We have a purpose for you to serve," they told him, as they bound him and his monkey familiar, and dragged them back to Juggernaut.

Closer to the Primordial, the battles were fierce. Their great foe would absorb her fallen demons and produce more, almost as quickly as they were slain. Plant life for miles died instantly as the Primordial drew energy into itself, unleashing a powerful bolt which washed across the Blessed Isle and crashed into the invading Fair Folk in the west. The Fair Folk were crushed instantly, and remade - for the weapon of the Primordial was pure order. In the wake of the bolt, amazing creations, new creatures, and great cities sprung up. Even in battle, the nature of the Primordials was to create, rather than to destroy.

Gicer was brought to the throne room of Juggernaut, where the Mask of Winters sat, dark energies of oblivion swirling around him. Beside his throne, the Eye of Autochthon sat, idle, its purpose already fulfilled. "My mistress is wise," said the Mask of Winters. "She would be loathe to pass up an opportunity for greater knowledge. You will have the greatest honor; to meet and speak with a Primordial. Then to die."

Gicer was dragged up another flight of living stairs, to the top spires of Juggernaut. Nobody noticed when his tiny panic monkey familiar reached through fate, calling the power of paradox through Bold Filcher to heist the Eye of Autochthon and scramble after his master.

A great hand - if one could call it that - reached from the heart of the Scavenger Lands, scooping up Gicer in a wave of inky blankness. Instantly, Gicer's mind was laid bare, thousands of ancient eyes staring into his soul. "Mankind gave me a name once. They called me Kophserat, The Mother That Gave The First Death. Much of the cycles of your world were my creation; without me, there is no death, and no life. I now strive for what I deserve from thousands of years ago; dominion over my creation. All will obey."

Somewhere in the East, White Tower's forces surged forward into the demons, forcing more and more Lunars and Warstriders into the breach. Their essence cannons skated harmlessly across the Primordial's skin, boiling away its dark matter, little by little. With a grunt of frustration heard across Creation, the Primordial reached down, lifted the Blessed Isle, and crushed White Tower with it.

This was the moment Gicer needed - a moment of distraction. For half a second, the Primordial's control over his mind was broken. He grasped the Eye of Autochthon from his familiar, and threw the monkey down to Varr, and to safety. He took the Eye and supercharged it with his essence. Gicer died instantly, transmuted into a beautiful purple crystal, just as Bargash Kol had died long ago. The wash of energy swept across the monster, a wave of order which solidified and crystallized over half its body. Gicer fell to the earth below him and shattered.

Enraged, the Primordial lashed out with the side of its body that still worked - searching for targets, it grasped and paralyzed Varr. Varr began to melt into its darkness, an eternal poison worse than death. Varr chose death, intoning the last spell he had decided to learn - Unconquerable Self. His body dissolved to ash.

With their primary forces destroyed, the forces of Yu-Shan still needed a miracle. It came as Celeste surged out of the Underworld, leading the armies of the First and Forsaken Lion. She had convinced the Deathlord to make his assault, and his armies overran Thorns quickly. The Mask of Winters was dispatched by the sword of the Lion, and his troops turned then to harry the Primordial.

Enraged, the Primordial began to pull itself forward, coming out of its crater with a great sucking sound. From the front, Celeste and the army of the First and Forsaken Lion goaded it on. From the rear, Kara, Rising Sun, and Yurgen Kaneko swarmed over the Primordial's retreat, forcing it toward the Blessed Isle (now carelessly discarded and broken in the middle of the ocean).

Finally, the Primordial approached the elemental pole of Earth - the very center of Creation. The trap was ready, and Celeste revealed the key - thousands upon thousands of prayer strips, each one demanding that a strand of the Loom of Fate be broken. A nearly infinite amount of Paradox poured into Celeste, and her body dissolved from the strain - but the job was done.

The Loom of Fate, high in Yu-Shan, collapsed in on itself, its critical structure undone. The entire structure of Creation began to collapse. In Creation, pieces of architecture and buildings began to appear - the streets and buildings of Yu-Shan. With a thunderous roar and a terrible shockwave, Yu-Shan rematerialized in Creation, as if it were one giant spirit.

As Gicer's player put it, they telefragged the Primordial.

The Primordial shattered, dividing into smaller and smaller demons, and thrashing in its throes of death. Although the Primordial was unmade, Creation was battered and broken, and chaos rushed in to fill the void.

And the Exalted opened their eyes unto a great plain of limitless potential.

Gicer, Varr, Celeste, Kara, Rising Sun, Fas'rial, Elentari, and White Tower stood in a circle, hovering in the star-filled darkness...and wondering why they weren't dead. Around them, thousands of strands filled the air, similar to the Loom of Fate, but more significant somehow. Shards of crystal, displaying snapshots of all the history of Creation, floated by. A realm of infinite potential and infinite knowledge - everything that was Creation was there, and they saw the way to rebuild it just as it was. Would they do so, or would the create something different, something better?

Eight Exalted stood together. They had spent an unimaginable amount of time and effort defending fate, and sometimes disobeying it. Fighting for justice, but also for themselves. They had seen much of what the world could offer, allied with much of it and defending their world against the rest. They now tasted victory...but at great cost.

They began to build.

- Campaign End -