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The Glorious Tyrant The Tyrant, secure in his rule over his new vessel begins to ask a battery of questions of the chief-marksman. Inquiring for information such as the location of the captain, the ships destination, when it is expected to arrive there, it's cargo, and any secrets it may hold. He wishes to know everything he can about his new possession. Asking the now servile marksman to spill the beans on what's going on with the ship. I imagine if anyone has info the marksman does not they'll be happy to volunteer it to try and earn the Tyrant's favor. Valhawk fucked around with this message at 02:30 on Sep 9, 2012 |
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Sep 9, 2012 02:28
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Silk and Silver Cloud The Scourge emerges back top-deck a few moments later, a bit of blood spattered on his windblade. "This ship is boring. Grain, coal. I killed some mice but they weren't even that sporting. I'm gonna go back and talk with some guys in the village, see if the Mistress is back yet. Feel free to make the sky glow or something if you need a ride to shore or something, I suppose. With that, Cloud is off, skimming the waves again because it's more fun. As he gets nearer to the village, he aims towards the Cold Iron Brand people. "Hi there! I hear you fellows are up to some good work around here. Anything we can help out with?"
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Sep 9, 2012 03:09
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Lodge As the sound of medicine dies down, Leif stands intact. His odd shakes and wavers replaced by newer pains as a he resumes his cycle of hospitality. Chukh's advances on the crowd make him all the more eager to usher Tarn and Snow inside. They feel welcome there. He leads them through the warm, spacious dining hall. Though the morning is still young the place is brightly lit, showcasing is myriad decorations. Most prominently displayed are an assortment of hunting trophies, some notably more exotic than others. Where do you go to get a goblin stuffed? As they go, Leif speaks freely of the business of this place - that of rest, respite, refreshment. It is a safe haven for passers by to come and go about their ways. It is not his place to pry into what that may be, merely to see it done in comfort. As he has learned. Be they settler, trader, soldier of nation or fortune, it is no matter. They are welcome here. Such folks are often here. As they near the end of the room he pauses by a shiny brass bell, and gives it a firm strike with his staff. It is answered only by his own grumbling and a second, louder strike of the same. A understandably alarmed youth slowly parts a nearby curtain. Leif regards him matter-of-factly, "We have guests." He sounds like he's just reminded someone to breathe. The waitstaff are soon flushed out of hiding and rush about preparing the hall to face whatever may follow. This satisfies Leif enough for him to lead the pair deeper into the lodge. Tucked away in a dark, quiet corner, a door that barely is conceals a little stair, down to a little office tinged with little spider's webs. Here Leif halts, stiffens. The doors seal, the air chills, the candles light. "It is not my place to know her nature. She has many names, many faces. She has shared with me one of each, and one purpose. She prepares the way for creation's rebirth." There's that bliss again. It sours quickly. "Those who pass here do not know her, only one of her chosen. She also tends this place. Hers is a different story." Time for business. A Different Story "Well first of all, record I know says The King didn' say nothing 'bout smashin up any a'is subjects." As the rugged northman moves to confront Chukh's attention, the guildsman can be heard jangling as he skitters as far from it as possible. "gently caress if I know half of what Leif gibbers on about, man drat near coughs wyld fog, but this lot's 'bout to try to sell ya on Trix." Bjorn looks quite at home striding up to a twisted madman with a large club. "And sure, She's a looker an' a fighter an' downright saintly ta' anyone she crosses paths. 'er first miracle's puttin up the ol hag as much'n long as she has." He keeps locked on Chukh, "Yeah, I seen that face on a lot a guys thought they'd take their cance and boy'd they get it. Kept that look on 'em till they worked out well too late what they were gettin', an' what they never got was outa her grip." He looks over the mace again shifts a bit, "Yeah, maybe it's cos she's some kinda wossname. Maybe she's jus tough 'n wierd. All's a I know is she's not worth the hassle. Wouldn't surprise a bit if the hag were some kinda' witch, but she don't start no trouble that wasn't invited right on in. Ya leave 'er to 'er spinning and it's like she ain't even there." You'd almost thing this sort of thing happened every day, "Now last I checked all that's the sort of thing ya share over drink, but I got notin in my hand. How 'bout ya put that one that one down and pick up a glass?" Bjorn waves at the lodge. "An' if that ain't ta yer likin, ye stopped countin at six." Time for pleasure? Passing Glance Oh look, Chukh is making friends. Maybe. Maybe not. Always right to the smashing with him. Tsk Tsk. Those Iron fellows could make decent company thou- Hold on, they were right over here weren't they? Maybe they went... perhaps behind... could be under... no. Could have sworn they were somewhere-abouts. Soldiers: Missing. Boat A crisp report follows, befitting a soldier befitting yourself. Captain Vestin is ashore, supervising leave and procuring supplies. He is to return this evening, with intent to sail at tomorrow for north. Weather allowing they would arrive at Shield in a week's time, for some manner of legal obligation, then deliver their load a fuel and food to a mining company. By month's end they'd be laden with ores bound for forges up the River of Tears. The marksmen are not privy to the finer details of the route, schedule, and business. They are hired security. The sailors still present are likewise involved in manners of business. The ship is called The Bonded Bloom. You're on a boat.
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Sep 12, 2012 03:29
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Tarn Kavik It may not be Leif's place to know his mistress's nature, but Tarn has a pretty good guess at this point. Different names and faces...the alchemical cocktail and the silk in the cave...the goblin trophies and the concealed office and the cobwebs...if this isn't the abode of a spider-totem Lunar exalt, Tarn will be very surprised indeed. He spares a second to whisper his suspicion in Snow's ear. A moment's consideration of the implications reminds him that someone not bound to her human form could quite easily be observing them at this very moment. Bending his energies towards his brow chakra, he sweeps the room with his veil-piercing gaze, searching for either a glowing ember of living essence or the subtle dampening of concealing magics. Plus, it wouldn't hurt to know what kind of hoodoo she's using to safeguard her office. Essence-Dissecting Stare is still up, and 5m personal to ping anima power, then Per+Awareness+Bonuses 10 = 3 plus target's essence sux to notice anything or anyone hiding in the room. Same dice = 6 + 3 sux to notice ongoing/lingering magic, Int+Occult 10 = 5 + 3 sux to analyze if such exists.
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Sep 12, 2012 05:47
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The Glorious Tyrant The Tyrant takes note of the crisp fashion in which his marksman reports, the man not showing the slightest hint of pain from the arrow that even now protruded from his foot. This Graves had potential. As a reward, the Tyrant gives him leave to have the arrow removed and the injury taken care of. He sends the best medic available to see to it that Graves will make a full recovery. Then, finished with this display of mercy, he waits for the captain and the other sailors to return from the shore. Letting the rest of the ship attempt to make due with whatever meager hospitality they could offer their King. Sending Graves to get that foot looked at. Then having him wait for those ashore to return, while he enjoys being waited on hand and foot by those who are on the ship. Valhawk fucked around with this message at 03:12 on Sep 13, 2012 |
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Sep 13, 2012 03:06
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Silk and Silver Cloud The game was afoot! Cloud let out a huge grin and flew around everywhere, circling the entire village in a quick sweep, hanging down from his knees to look close at the ground, shooting straight up to get an eagle's eye view of the surrounding terrain, spinning around somewhat frightened villagers while asking cheerful questions about where the men could have gone(making sure not to accidentally slice the villagers open with his ride's blades), then having sudden inspirations of where they could have gone and flying a mile or two in a seemingly random direction, ever hopeful that his search is successful. Searching montage!
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Sep 13, 2012 04:36
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Tarn Well, this all looks familiar. More careful little weaves upon and within the walls, ceiling and floor, tracing out little bits of spells. The energies are quite distinctly those of the man before you, all their little lights moving about to grant this room a bit of privacy and comfort. After a time Leif swallows whatever grievance he has with this other woman. He takes a seat behind a desk. "If you, and your cohorts," he winces a little, "and your monarch plan to stay long, we shall do our best to accommodate you." The Chalets across the river are for special or well paying guests, friends of Aursholm. One is his own residence, unfortunately shared with Miss Tricia Jansdatter. Another is permanently reserved for officers of the Cold Iron Brand. No active moon-magic detected, just more thaum. Tyrant It is said that a ship at sea is a world of its own. Indeed, the laws of many nations place in a vessel's captain powers of the church and state. Rightly so. And this ship is more a nation than any other in creation, because you are its king. Your day passes in peace and comfort. Cloud Wow, they got really far away! Just like proper soldiers, all walkin' a mile in ten or fifteen minutes and such. Real upright, that. Have you really been gone that long? Maybe they're just really fast. They'd be careful heading up that riverside. Rivers can be real tricky.
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Sep 20, 2012 03:07
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Silk and Silver Cloud Ahh, these were people close to his heart. They really knew how to move; no dilly-dallying or discussing for hours what to do, no hesitation, just hustling off to wherever they should be next. Cloud jetted forwards to catch up, waving exaggeratedly when they notice his presence. "Hello again! Sorry I vanished before introducing myself! The name's Gert. What are all you fine folks off to do? Is there anything I can do to help?"
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Sep 20, 2012 03:24
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Gentle Snow "Your hospitality is appreciated." Snow said to the man. "No, I have a feeling we will not be here long, but I am glad of your company and time. Northern hospitality is a model for all Creation, aye?" "Tell me, though, I noticed a few of the Cold Iron soldiers at the outskirts of town. Do they keep trade with the city? Pass through often? They must have a camp nearby."
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Sep 20, 2012 04:36
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Drunk on Bitter Fortunes The mace lowers, replaced by a grin. "Drink, you say? Bjorn, you just made yourself a friend. What's the poison of choice around these parts?" <You're a sucker, Chukh.> <If what he's saying is true, then this dame could be real interesting.> <Just remember that you've already got one Queen Bitch pulling your strings. Do try not to pick up another, hm?>
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Sep 24, 2012 15:51
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Tarn Kavik Important work, this. Gathering intel, establishing a rapport with the locals, making plans on the coven's next move... <oh sweet unmerciful yozis this is SO BORING> After a few token questions about who (and more importantly, what) this Tricia Jansdatter is, Tarn politely excuses himself and heads back to the village proper. There, he listens to the people, hears their pleas, hears their problems. And then he fixes them. Through the genius of She Who Lives In Her Name, he beholds the fundamental state of Error in the world before him. Through the glorious power of Malfeas, he knocks it back into shape. Waiting a couple hours to regain essence/let my anima dissipate, then going out to do any repair jobs or medical work the people of Aursholm might need. Essence-Dissecting Stare goes back up with 6m personal, then 5m periph on the 1st Malf Excellency for both rolls. Int+Craft+bonuses 16 = 7 sux, Int+Med+bonuses 14 = 10 sux.
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Sep 24, 2012 17:10
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The Glorious Tyrant The Tyrant reigns over his kingdom in miniature. Upon Graves’ return, the arrow removed from his foot, and the wound cleaned and bandaged, the marksman directs some of the crew to bring forth the finest chair in the captain’s quarters. Although a poor substitute for the throne of all creation it would have to do. By the time they had finished, other came up from below dragging the struggling forms of those who had been asleep below decks upon the Tyrant’s arrival. Fear and confusion marred the faces, however upon the sight of the Tyrant’s still radiant glory it was smoothed out into a look of utter awe, as resistance was transmuted to worshipful devotion. As the newly converted prostrated themselves, the Tyrant surveyed the miniature world set before him. All was as it should be, the people bowing and reverent, eager to please their absolute ruler. So the tyrant speaks, “Know that this is as the world should be, the way all of Creation one day will be. The people worship and obey their King, and I reign in majesty over all. Etch this moment into your minds, so that you may spend each and every moment hereafter bringing such perfection to the ignorant world beyond.” And as their King commanded, the crew silently reveled in the totality of their love and submission to Him, while at the same time they wept knowing that the world beyond moved with beings whose will was unguided by the Tyrant’s own. Truly such a place was to be pitied and reviled in equal measure. Then after a long moment, the silence was broken as Graves raised up his voice in prayer and glorification of their living god. A Hymn to His majesty and might. Soon the whole ship joined in, and as the Tyrant smiled at his marksman, the man’s heart melted. A greater joy than any he had ever known filled him. For what higher end could one aspire to than to please the Lord and Master of all Creation? As the men returned to work of running and maintaining the ship under their King’s watchful eye, the volume of the Hymn died down, but it did not cease. It would never truly cease, for even in those who did not speak it, their lips worked in silent repetition, and even those whose lips were still sang it again and again unendingly in their minds and hearts. Within minutes, those aboard forgot that the Hymn had ever not been a constant background in their lives, coloring every movement, word, and thought. It was in this way, the Hymn flaring back to audibility and then fading back into the hearts, and minds, and silent almost reflexive whispers, that the Tyrant passed the time until the captain arrived. Passing time, enjoying the Hymn. How long has passed between when the Tyrant came aboard the ship and when the captain arrives? Mainly so I can figure what anima level and how much Essence I respire in the mean-time.
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Sep 24, 2012 23:34
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Fields The soldiers start to scatter as Cloud descends upon them, diving for what cover the scattered rocks and crags can offer. One drives on. With a quick burst of speed he vaults up the side of a prominent stone. He slams home at its peak and whips about to face the Scourge with open arms, smiling broadly. "Well drat, Gert, if those aren't the words on the minds of every man - Where ya' goin' and What can I do for ya' - words with heavy answers those ones, sure you want 'em weighin' ya' down? It's months and miles to hardly anything out there, and here and yon may be flipped end on end and back again by the time you get there." He's making quite a show of this. "We're going where we end up!" "Although," He thinks for a wink, then snaps his fingers, "You can help with something. Sammi' Grey left a ring back in town, drat sure he'd love if you got it back." You find his request rather reasonable. Lodge Leif is short of things to say of Tricia in any semblance of polite company. Of the Irons, he has more. They are nomads, wherever they stay it is never long. Going by what news passes through they've been active a ways northeast of here. He slips away from the subject and looks ready to carry on with the day. He usual stream of pleasantries resumes. You don't miss the stress he places on a good house always being willing to accept well behaved guests. Close to mentions of your king. Gonna get that thing a leash? Town Rutherford follows excitedly as Tarn makes himself useful about town. He spends the afternoon patching, mending, fusing and poking about things not quite right and not quite whole. Leif's health aside though, he finds little out of order here. The town is very well maintained. With everything aligned just so, his attention inevitably wanders back to the lodge. He finds the guildsman preparing to leave, and a northman preparing to interrupt. Far more composed than he once was, the merchant gets the first words, "He's on my ship." They are the last. The pair, and some others are soon on their way downriver. Boat A day spent basking in adoration. May it be the first of many. When he sees a lesser craft approach he knows its passengers to be his subjects. Such is obvious. When he sees that they too know this fundamental truth, it warms his heart. BEHOLD - MINIONS
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Sep 30, 2012 23:10
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Silk and Silver Cloud Cloud smiles happily as he realizes he can be useful. "Sounds like a plan. Which one of you is Sammi'?" The Scourge moves over slightly to make room for the man. "Besides, it sounds like we have a lot to talk about. And don't worry about anything weighing me down--I don't let anything keep me from flying high!" He almost flips into the air to emphasize his point, but then realizes that he is trying to let someone get aboard and that sudden spirals might be somewhat disconcerting.
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Oct 2, 2012 05:22
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The Glorious Tyrant As the smaller craft came along side the wheels inside the Tyrant’s mind were already turning. The town where the others waited was a bit too crowded for His taste, full of strangers who had seen His Glory and not bowed down. They were, He decided, a challenge to be saved and savored. Things were still too soon, and His Kingdom was still too small to derive the full enjoyment from crushing the beneath the rightness of His rule until only obedience remained within them. After all, if He did all the work himself how could He savor commanding those who understood their place as His servants. No, a different place was needed. One where He could establish His absolute rule uncontested. A tiny place of no note to anyone, possessing no special traits of its own. That His first city would be a nowhere would make the realization of His glory all the more profound when he took a place that was ignored by heaven, earth, and hell and molded it into the shining capital of all Creation. For what better proof of his right to rule than to turn a backwater into a place ever in the hearts and thoughts of every man, god, monster, devil, or other create in Creation. As the smaller craft was lifted up, the Tyrant had already formed the questions he would ask of the Captain and His subjects aboard the ship, of other locales that would prove fitting for his new goal. The Tyrant turns his eyes towards the skiff finally coming up high enough for the occupants to be seen. The Tyrant is looking for a good starting point, hopefully one not already claimed by a supernatural, the less important and more backwatery it is the better. He’ll question the guilder and all the others looking for other small towns or cities that would fit his criteria. I’m intending this place to be a pretty long-term part of the game, as the Tyrant intends to basically turn it into the capital of his Haslanti Kingdom, and eventually the entire world over the long-run. Also, looking for some stuff on how Bjorn acts in the Tyrant’s presence as opposed to when he’s just with other people. He’s basically gonna be the Tyrant’s personal servant so a good feel for how he acts around his king will make it easier for me to write him convincingly in the future..
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Oct 3, 2012 04:18
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Tarn Kavik Looking in bemusement as the Tyrant's thralls leave to join their master, Tarn finds that he briefly has a moment to himself. In this time, he reflects on his purpose in being here. His Yozi patrons sent him forth to spread the word and wonders of Hell; by the coven's efforts, the word part has been pretty well taken care of for the time being. The wonders, however, will take more than he has on hand, which, discounting the funds in the caravan sled, amounts to his wits, two obols, and the clothes on his back. Well, he's done more with less, but still... Examining the intricate traceries of spellwork in Leif's office, a thought occurs to him. His initial, ill-fated undertaking notwithstanding, he should be more than capable of throwing together a minor manse or two. With some hearthstones to provide a steady stream of Essence, more ambitious projects would quickly fall within his scope. Clearing his throat to interrupt Leif's otherwise continuous ramblings, Tarn begins to speak. "So," he begins, idly scratching Rutherford between the ears (<whos a good doggy? yes you are!>), "judging by your handiwork and the state of the town, you seem to know your geomancy pretty well. Anything you can tell me about local Dragon Lines and demesnes? I'm not holding out hope that there are any intact manses in the area, but if there are I'd love to know about them."
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Oct 4, 2012 15:36
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Gentle Snow Time to blow this juice-ice stand. Actually, a juice-ice sounds really good right now, they don't have them in Malfeas. "Well, I will absolutely take your words into consideration and I appreciate all your time," Snow said with enthusiasm. "But you are right, I should go tend to things outside. Perhaps, once you have answered my companion and friend's question, he will join me outside?" He gave a few more departing thank yous and headed out. "Right then!" he took a deep breath and marched towards Tyrant. "Well, Ty," he was almost certain the diminutive would throw the man off balance. Or enrage him, even odds. "Aren't you thinking small? This is all well and good, but there is an entire city south of us! Armories, airships, artifacts, a chance to really make our mark. Think of it!" He thumped Tyrant on the back. "But, eh, a word to the wise, ok?" he bent the Tyrant in to keep things in confidence, counting on speed to keep him off balance rather than might, "You're forgetting yourself. You've got a nice little posse now, that's great, but you are just one prince. As am I. As is Tarn. You may have a mandate to rule, but that just makes you first among equals. I have a mandate to tear out your guts and poo poo in your torso while telling you how much I love you, but you don't see me trying to ruin your day, do you?" "So, come back to us. You're a man, not a puppet. You're less, but also MORE, than your patron. Just like me." Lets MOVE. I agree to give up on the scouts, establishing them as a recurring thorn in our side, if we move to a place with actual fronts and threats and challenges and conflicts. This is also Tyrant's chance to regain some humanity.
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Oct 5, 2012 04:54
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Tarn As Leif winds up to repel your kind words, Rutherford halts him with a quick bark. Three times, this give and take repeats before Leif yields. He is soon digging through shelves and drawers. "There are few departures in the season, little call for guida-" Another bark herds Leif into getting down to business. They keep a careful record of those who pass here, those who returned in triumph or despair, and those who never returned at all. From all the who and what went where when inevitably emerges patterns, little turns of the land painted in whispered rumours that invite your eyes to possibilities. And warnings against wandering too close to home. You have some data to work from for prospecting, will be elaborated upon when I post map. Cloud "He's none of them." You expect surprise and are not disappointed when one leaps from behind you and a rock! to claim the offered space. "He's one of me!" He looks like them, he's dressed like them, yet he somehow makes it... festive? Hard to point at any one thing that does it - too many to choose from. Little highlights pained on his face and hair, a thousand tiny decorations hanging from every fold and cuff and seem. The little spring in his step as he lands, more a symptom than a cause of some intangible levity about the man. You nearly flip yourself about when you find you've overcompensated for his arrival. Your new passenger hardly weighs at all. Why Hello There! To be clear, this is not the first talkin'dude. New Dude. Council of The Bonded Bloom Presented with such a historic opportunity, Captain Vestin spends some time considering his words. Brushing aside the garlands of verbal decoration, you find a disappointment polished into opportunity. A place sufficiently remote and desolate to suit your interests is, by its nature, beyond the scope of the Guildsman's records. Their attention is focused on those places enriched enough to offer business, and constrained to those patrolled enough to enforce the league's restrictions. However, knowing well this opposition shall make it all the easier to elude. It is true. It is adequate. It serves as measure of a man subdued. Before you came, this man could scarcely breathe without driving his new cohort to a frenzy. Yet through all this somewhat winded address, Bjorn is quiet. Contemplative. Seeking the lay of this new land. quote:"Well Ty," The men at arms surround you as Snow oozes on to the deck, at the ready as he speaks of less than pleasant mandates of your patrons. There will be map data relating to League Patrols, in addition to whatever local news your minions have on hand. A_Raving_Loon fucked around with this message at 23:40 on Oct 9, 2012 |
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Oct 8, 2012 23:13
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Silk and Silver Cloud The Scourge pauses for a long (for him) second to think. That's...not normal. Not human. With another moment of reflection, neither am I, anymore. With a shrug and a smile, Cloud turns to Sammi as they begin to flit back towards the village. "I never expected to meet someone as fun as you around here! And clearly the stories of your merry band have been gross under-exaggerations. I am sure the real stories of what you do and even where you come from are much more interesting. Care to enlighten me?" I like these guys! Specifically, Tragic Love Amusement-ing Sammi over there and trying to get some info out of him. Uhh, stories please? also with -4 to his DV and +1 stunt value. As a reminder I have a reflexive which negates surprise attacks, you know, if it comes up.
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Oct 10, 2012 03:23
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Tarn Kavik With parting thanks to Leif, Tarn exits the lodge and carefully stows an annotated map in the caravan sled. Snow, however, is nowhere to be seen. A bit of time spent asking around Aursholm yields the datum that the Fiend was last seen diving into the sea and swimming in the general direction of the Guild ship. Following him could be problematic, since Tarn does not, in fact, know how to swim. <ooo i know you should use your mind thingy to freeze the water and walk across> <That would drain a substantial portion of my Essence reserves.> <and look SO COOL> <True, but I should still save my power until we know we won't need it.> A toothless old fisherman obliges Kavik and agrees to take him to the ship in his rowboat. As the rickety fishing boat comes within a few hundred yards of the Bloom, Gentle Snow is seen to emerge from the waves and climb up the side of the vessel onto the deck. Tarn gestures for the fisherman to stop a dozen feet from the Guild ship. "Stay here," he orders. "This won't take long." At his bidding, an enormous wave rises up along the side of the Bloom before freezing in place, creating an icy ramp up to the deck. Steps carve themselves into the iceberg in advance of Tarn's movement (<SO COOL>) as he walks upward just in time to catch the end of the conv- Gentle Snow posted:"I have a mandate to tear out your guts and poo poo in your torso while telling you how much I love you" "On second thought, it might be best if you left now." I'll let this scene play out a little further before I pitch my idea.
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Oct 10, 2012 05:47
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The Glorious Tyrant The Tyrant mildly waves off the guards, but they are wary enough to be ready to react at a moments notice to protect their King from this insolent intruder. "You are right in one respect, I am more than My patron. He is but a broken shell of what once was to weighed down by past failures to truly ascend the throne, whether he can ever be restored is an open question." The Tyrant's glare turns cold, "However, what is not an open question is the proper respect due Me. In your ignorance I shall forgive you this once, but you will not refer to Me with such familiarity or lack of respect again." An unspoken threat is made loud and clear as a hand rests against the pommel of the Daiklave at his waist and the men-at-arms loom menacingly, even if they do not realize they pose little threat to Snow. His position on matters of address made clear the Tyrant continues. "Going to the city you point to will simply draw the wolves that feed off the corruption in the world to us before we are ready. A true ruler does not start a war unless He has already won it. For the moment My Kingdom consists of this ship and it's crew, who would no doubt happily go wherever they are ordered. However, no matter their dedication or quality they are not yet prepared to invade a city, and I am not so cruel a ruler to demand they die in vain. Such are the ways of Creation's defilers, not it's one true king." The Tyrant turns back towards his minions and waves Snow away, "So, unless you have something that is truly worthy of My attention, I have real business to attend to." If you have a bribe or something that might pique the Tyrant's interest, now is the time for it.
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Oct 10, 2012 06:01
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Tarn Kavik "Ahem." Tarn steps forward onto the Bloom's deck. "In my capacity as this coven's expert adviser, I have some expert advice." He looks around, surveying the crew and the other two Infernals. "As well as a solution that I believe will be to everyone's satisfaction." He looks at the Tyrant. "You want to build some forces before trying for anything more ambitious." At Snow. "You want a challenge worthy of your Exaltation, with commensurate reward." At the space between. "Here is my proposal." A table flashes into existence between the Fiend and the Sovereign, a lovingly-rendered force-construct model based on Leif's map placed atop it. "Through a thorough examination of Aursholm's records, I've found a number of points of potential interest. These villages-" a number of the smaller circles on the map flash bright green, "-are all prosperous enough to be worth our time. Unfortunately, they're also prosperous enough that they've likely attracted the attention of local divinities. These villages-" another scattering of dots flashes red, "-are all poor enough that we could go through them unnoticed, but have little to offer other than perhaps some manpower." A third, much sparser collection of points flashes blue. "These sites are all possible demesnes, and whatever else we do, it would be very much worth investigating them. And here-" a lone point in the map's southeast pings black, "-here is where I believe we will find Stump. The place that, until a year ago, I called home." A lengthy explanation of Stump's woes follows. "There are several reasons, however, why it would make a good base of operations. It's remote, its people are desperate for salvation, and it's off the Sidereals' grid altogether. Piànzi won't be able to use anything but his personal resources against us without getting caught and smelted into starmetal, and we don't have fates for him to manipulate. We'd be limited to bringing only assistants without grown children to survive them, but that only means that we have to be a little more selective. As to what Stump has to offer..." Several tendrils of blue light emerge from the black dot and spread outward across the map before tapering off a short ways away. "These are the Dragon Lines in Stump's vicinity, and just the ones I'm sure of at that." There are no fewer than four such lines converging on the village. "With the generator-manse in place and some sorcerous countermeasures to Piànzi's theft, we could ensure an endless stream of good luck for mortals. If we build it," he says with a knowing glance at the Tyrant, "they will come." "We'd have to acquire some raw materials to finish the manse-" a ghostly blue image of the the proposed design imposes itself over the dot, along with Old Realm script listing the more exotic components, "-but local gods and the Guild would be more than capable of providing." Tarn grins at his companion. "Snow, how do you feel about cheating the most powerful institution in Creation and the gods themselves out of their fortunes while spitting in Heaven's eye?" In other news, dropping 6 XP on a Familiar. Rutherford has a non-Obvious Chakra Eye, allowing him to see immaterial entities and Essence-based effects. Thesaurasaurus fucked around with this message at 17:11 on Oct 10, 2012 |
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Oct 10, 2012 17:07
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Gentle Snow "Your kingdom? Your respect?" Snow gestured to the ocean around them. "You are but a mote in my kingdom. I could leave you swimming back to shore, fleeing a host of monsters, before you could even draw your blade. Don't talk to me about respect 'til you've earned it." he said, and then Tarn cut him off. He listened. He grew intrigued. "That's a task I could sink my teeth into," he said once Tarn had finished, "and I can interrogate the gods themselves to find the location of the Shogun of Artificial Flight. Yes, I could support this." He turned to Tyrant. "You, on the other hand, should realize that there is more to existence than showing up and declaring yourself for all to see. Find yourself deep in a place of power, hidden from the sun, behind the defenses of your enemies, and then you make yourself obvious. You reveal yourself only to carve out a power base. Then you take another center of power, then another. Then, when you reveal yourself to the nominal rulers of the city, it is exactly as you have said: 'A true ruler does not start a war unless He has already won it'. My way, you have won from within, using your talents in a way that Malfeas couldn't even countenance. Moreover, it moves our plans forward at a tenfold pace." "This is the strength of the Coven. If you would have us bow and scrape to you, you must bow your ear to us. Here's my deal: we help Tarn, make our powerbase amidst the tainted essence that should practically feel like home for us, and then we take Aerie. At that time, you may call me the first Power of your level to pledge himself to you. You may carry name of Master and I Servant, but we both benefit from the arrangement."
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Oct 11, 2012 03:29
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Drunk on Bitter Fortunes Bitter Fortunes looks up from his conversation with Bjorn about Tricia, and grins at the Glorious Tyrant. "C'mon, Ty! Lighten up a little!" <Chukh... At least give him his full title.> He puts a hand up, semi-placatingly. His grin, however, remains in full force. "Sorry... Glo' Ty. We're supposed to function as a team here, and if you're constantly trying to compensate for your undersized junk, we'll never get anywhere." He stands, completely ignoring The Glorious Tyrant's new minions. "The Fiend's got a point. Right now, on the ocean, we're here by the sufferance of the Queen Mother-Bitch. When we're in town, Malfeas rules. In the meantime, we've got powers out there who will gladly take our heads, and we're not yet strong enough to stop them, individually or together!" Chukh Fen-Lei spits, deliberately, on the deck of The Bonded Bloom. "We are no longer at the Hellthing, where our patrons fête us and ply us with pretty words and princely gifts. We are out in a Creation which hates and fears us. We can change that, but only of we're not fighting each other." <...Frankly, I'm shocked at just how cogent you're being.> "I mean. I know I wouldn't wanna fight me, and if you've got as many brains as you pretend to have, you wouldn't wanna fight me either. Especially when we're probably better off working towards some sort of common cause. So sit down, shut up, and stop acting like you're King High poo poo just because one you got some Green Sun Mojo." His arm extends, encompassing the other Infernals in his gesture. "We've all got power, Glo' Ty. You wanna be the leader? Prove you're worthy of the title by DOING something, instead of just expecting it all to fall into your lap." The Slayer rounds on Tarn. "And as for you..." He grins. "If you could add in the locations of the taverns and other public houses onto that map, I'd be much obliged. Also, any temples to various gods. I'd like to know how to get their attention when it's time to kick their asses."
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Oct 13, 2012 22:27
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The Glorious Tyrant The Tyrant ignored Snow's and Bitter's threats a confrontation on the waves was not to his advantage, and he could think of nothing else to say. Instead, he listened carefully to Tarn. "Hmmm... This could be worthwhile, and is unlikely to draw down all of Creation around our ears. I approve." He turns to Snow, "I will accept your proposal. Let us make haste for this region at once, and when we return to seize Aerie I will accept your pledge of loyalty as well." Turning to Tarn he continues, "The true question is whether there is a means to for us to negate the lethal effect until we can construct the luck-forges. You are the master of moteology among us, what say you, is there a manner to apply our not inconsiderable might to shield our supplicants?" Valhawk fucked around with this message at 02:52 on Oct 19, 2012 |
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Oct 14, 2012 01:18
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Tarn Kavik "Chukh...you wound me." A few silver dots flash on the map. "Here are the temples noted in the records..." Dozens of yellow dots spread across the surface like a pox. "...and the pubs of note." At the Tyrant's question, Tarn begins to ponder. "Yes, it would be best for all concerned if there were some form of countermeasure." But how to go about it? As he understands it, the luck-siphoning apparatus has been piggybacked onto the Loom of Fate itself, and Heaven is a long ways away. Diverting it might be possible, but that would only shift the problem... The answer comes to him in a flash of green-white flame. His entire body is engulfed head-to-toe as the brilliance of She Who Lives In Her Name and the unsurpassed vision of Malfeas suddenly and violently enlighten him. "I have it!" Tarn exclaims, and his voice is uncharacteristically deep and resonant. "We will build a false Stump, from which the Loom will steal empty luck." Five shattered crystal spheres in the colors of the Maidens manifest in orbit around him, against a backdrop of twinkling stars. "BEHOLD! MY ENGINE OF SALVATION!" The map fades into dimness, eclipsed by a miniature, three-dimensional model of a village encased in arcane machinery. "Through our benefactors, it is given to us to ignore the whims of fate and write our own destinies! With this power, channeled through my device, we will shift the threads of causality into a miniature replica of the village, a simulacrum that will deceive Piànzi's measures and draw up nothing but our motes! We will labor FREE OF SUPERNATURAL MISFORTUNE!" Gradually, Tarn's mania begins to die down. "We will, however, need to give this false village false inhabitants onto which we imprint false destinies. Creating life is unfortunately, for the moment, beyond us, and whomever we do place inside will rapidly have existence itself siphoned from them." It goes unspoken that this will probably turn the locals against them, and Tarn has no wish to consign anyone to Oblivion. And yet, there may be an answer to everyone's satisfaction. He looks up from his blueprints with a smile on his face. "We'll need elves. Lots and lots of elves." Max excellency and Conviction channel on Int+Occult roll to come up with a workable solution = 10 sux. Rough idea: combine (Yozi) Inevitability Technique plus some motes/WP and a plot-device artifact to give Raksha semblances of fates, then use them as fuel while we complete our work on the long-term solution of the Manse.
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Oct 14, 2012 20:23
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The Glorious Tyrant - The Boat "Very well, if it is elves this plan requires then let us take them." Looking down on the map the Tyrant points to a place outside the field of bad-luck that curses stump. "This shall be our camp, a place to pursue the construction and supply of your machine, and to coordinate our plans to take Stump itself." With the natural authority of one who caries the flame of Thieon within him he turns to his crew, "Make sail to find a proper inlet in which the ship may be wintered. Though we have little use for a ship now, there will be time enough later when it will be required." Looking as they quickly set to work, the Tyrant continues, "I have a matter that needs to be attended to in Ausholm, two more I wish to gain the allegiance of. Once I have secured their loyalty I will expect to see all of you on the trail to the meeting place, bring whatever supplies you can to construct the base camp." The Tyrant heads towards the smaller launch that had only a short time come along, as a crew prepares to carry their king to shore. The Tyrant signals to Bjorn to follow him, "Come Bjorn, you are my manservant, I expect you to be with me at all times unless I indicate otherwise." Next he faces the head marksman, "Graves, I name you Captain of my Royal Guards, and entrust to you to coordinate the defense of my person from mundane threats. Since I intend to procure the service of two that would fall under your jurisdiction, you shall accompany me." He makes his way towards the launch, and once the crew is ready and those he requested are aboard he sets out, heading back towards Ausholm.
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Oct 21, 2012 02:07
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Gentle Snow Snow snorted. It seemed things had taken care of themselves. He headed belowdecks. This ship was heavy, but with what? Nothing had been amiss in the Captain's quarters, but perhaps there would be more if he went down to the holds. He knew very well how deep the ship was, having swum underneath it, not to check for hidden compartments or, perhaps, things hidden in the ballast and bilge. He wouldn't trust a guild ship as far as he could throw it. If there were smuggled goods, and he was sure there were, he would find them. None could hide from him. None could hide for the careful, piercing gaze of the Mother Sea... Perception+ Larceny, benefiting from Kimbery's role as the ultimate trafficker. 3 successes to find contraband.
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Oct 22, 2012 16:52
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Drunk on Bitter Fortunes Chukh frowns as the Tyrant co-opts his new drinking buddy into servitude. <At least you know where your new boyfriend is going to be.> <Hey, now. Drinking buddy is different than fuckbuddy.> <Of course it is, Chukh. You go ahead and keep telling yourself that.> For once, the Slayer ignores his Coadjutor's baiting, and addresses himself to the task at hand. "Elf-catching, huh? Slippery bastards... Slap them in cold iron cuffs, let 'em try to charm their way out of whatever machine you've got planned. How big do we need 'em?" There's an edge of vitriol in Fortunes' voice as he talks about the Raksha. "They're worse than the gods, leaving folks as burnt-out husks. At least the gods leave folks the hope that it can get better." He growls. "And the gods still have a reckoning coming." The thought has put him in a black mood, and he turns to Graves. "I need the keys to the larder and a mallet. The rum is being commandeered. Anyone who cares to join, feel free." Getting Fathomless Poison Haven (8 XP) now; once we get another XP drip, I'll get Purity of Madness Defense so that I don't get Shaped by Elf.
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Oct 22, 2012 17:01
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Snow Well, you've seen enough of this ship from below to know a floor that comes too soon. They were very good about making them drat inconvenient to get at. Not that you mind, of course. You need no help at all dragging those rough, splintered crates out of the way. Hardly any of the gain gets in your eyes as you tear it from tightly packed bales. Why, all this coal dust should wash right off once you're back at sea. The aftertaste and hacking cough should surely follow suit! All in a day's doing all the hard work for someone who couldn't flip over a rock to find their own foot. Deep in the hold, you find the hollows. Inside the hollows you find... boxes. Oh, well then, suppose there's nothing to see here. The wood shatters, scouring your hands with hundreds of tiny nicks and scratches as you tear the container open to reveal... tools? Crate after crate after mother-of-all-splinters-in-your-fingernail crate of mining tools. Cloud Sammi takes instantly to your affections. It takes no effort to keep speed and balance as he dramatically shifts about, regaling you with tales of adventure on the Nordic plains. You find yourself out of journey long before he's out of story, and begin circling the village in a wide holding pattern. He details the rescue of a gaggle of youth from the den of a pack of snow lions when you see The Tyrant's procession returning from the sea. He looks in a much better mood than before. Come to think of it, you don't see any of the others in town. Where could they all be? You have some intel about monsters active in the region, it will go on the map. A_Raving_Loon fucked around with this message at 16:55 on Oct 24, 2012 |
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Oct 24, 2012 02:03
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Silk and Silver Cloud The Scourge grins and whirls about, trying both to show his amusement and keep the two of them from plummeting to the earth. "An excellent story! But I have one more question before we go down and see my cheery companion over there; you seem, how shall I put this, a bit on the light side for a normal mortal--not that I would judge. I just want to know what you are so I can properly introduce you!"
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Oct 24, 2012 03:01
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Gentle Snow Boxes moved and splintered, bowled like ninepins. He had to know, he had to see what was inside, no matter the cost! Oh, the Tyrant mocked him, but soon the Tyrant would know just how much Snow cared, just how much Snow suffered for him. There, the crates were open. Snow looked at his hands, bleeding slightly and tortured. As the essence of Kimbery left him, he suddenly started feeling the pain. Angry swearing rang out from belowdecks. A few moments later, Snow came back above decks, his fingers dripping caustic acid that smoked and bubbled on the deck where it dripped. Finally, the last of the wood dissolved out of his fingers and he flicked the rest of the fluid overboard. "Tools. In addition to grain and other foods, this ship is carrying hidden digging and mining equipment. Now just why do you suppose that would be?"
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Oct 24, 2012 05:04
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Tarn Kavik A mystery! It makes perfect sense that a ship would be carrying food stores just before the sea is due to freeze over, and with the importance of mining for coal, feathersteel ore, and ancient artifacts to Haslan's economy, the tools are hardly out of place either. But why would they be hidden? What would be the point? Before he weighs in on the matter, he listens for the captain's answer. He listens very closely. Factual Determination Analysis for 2m on Vestin's or anyone else's reply to see if they're telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
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Oct 24, 2012 16:58
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The Glorious Tyrant Returning to Ausholm, the Tyrant immediately set out to locate the two toughs who had been guarding the older man. They certainly seemed strong enough, and they had a certain imposing quality that had caught the Tyrant’s eye, they would make excellent personal guards. He had been disappointed when they had not taken to his service completely like some of the others, but he could see that one more firm push might help them come to their senses and take their proper place as his servants. Walking into the main lodge, the Tyrant finds the pair at a table inside, enjoying the drink. He walks up to them, and sits at an empty seat at the table, “I have come to speak to you, to offer you a future and a call to a more important life.” His voice lacks its earlier grandiose heights, in its place is a tone that is quiet almost intimate, but at the same time still holds within a divine authority. Even now, at a table in a tavern, speaking not to a crowd, but to just two, everything about the Tyrant is at once overpowering and irresistible. Their merely mortal eyes cannot see how he is invisibly enhanced by the essence flowing within him. His voice, his manner, his intonation, all drip with an authority not seen in the world since the fall of the Titans, “The two of you are impressive guards, and your talents are wasted here in a small town in the outskirts. If you truly wish to test your skills, earn glory for yourselves and your people, and help usher in the rebirth of Haslan and all of Creation then swear fealty to me and take your places as my personal guards. For there are many who would would fight against the restoration of the world to true peace and prosperity. Those at the helm of this mockery of a once magnificent world and their ilk would do anything to prevent this from occurring, and all of them will seek to destroy me by any means at their disposal. I’ll need strong men with stout hearts like you to stand against their evil ambitions.” In that moment he seems every bit the hero-king his words make out, shrouded in glory so thick as to blind them to all but his radiance. Empowered by the charm of the King of Kings, his speech would tug on the heartstrings of even the most cynical observer, much less those already predisposed towards him. “Now, time is short, so I must head out to prepare to make way to begin the righting of the ancient wrongs at the root of the world’s evil. If you wish to take the first steps towards a life of glory and honor, where your names will go down in history forever, then follow me outside where you can swear your fealty to Haslan and Creation’s true and rightful ruler. If you wish to remain in a life that offers nothing but more of the same then remain inside. I will understand, though of course I’ll be disappointed. For a I see within you two the spark of greatness, and this place will only serve smother it in mediocrity. However, in this broken world not all those with the potential to become the stuff of legends have the courage to take up the call when it presents itself. Do not ponder too long, time is of the essence.” The Tyrant gets up to leave, hoping that two new bodyguards will follow him out. Either way, if he wishes to meet the others in time he will have to leave soon. As he leaves the Lodge he sees a shape making a lazy arc around the area from above. Social attack to get them to swear fealty to the Tyrant and become his faithful bodyguards. Aiming to count this as a second scene building a servile intimacy of loyalty to the Tyrant. Converting the toughs: 20d10x7 7 + Stunt(thanks to USF) Successes. 3m from personal and 7m from Periph, putting my anima at Burning Caste Mark and setting off KoB.
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Oct 25, 2012 03:31
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Snow "Why would that be?" You nearly lunge headlong at the offending noise of the riverman's voice, but Captain Vestin stays cautiously composed. He speaks softly, gently, makes no sudden movements. "We carried certain cargo meant to come and go unopened. Such privacy was ordered, paid for, and respected." "Who would order this, and why, I do not know." After enduring The Tyrant's arrogance, to hear one tread so carefully around you refreshes like the sea breeze. "Perhaps I could help you reason why? Over tea?" Though naturally and entirely understandably suspicious at first, you soon welcome the warm aromas of a few drinks. The flavours hold you over while a distinctive recreational aftertaste does its best to make headway against your bitter blood. Tarn Nothing the captain says innately offends your heightened understanding of the truth. There is no fundamental falsehood or omission in asserting that he did not know what he was moving, from whence it came, or to what end it shall go. The mystery remains. <Maybe someone has to dig a hole? A secret hole? It could be treasure!> Cloud Sammi chuckles. He leans weightlessly against you, one tip-toe at the edge of your glider's wings. "Normal men are weighed down by mortality." He idly rolls aside, "and I need no introduction, but my name." With a little flick, he slips off of the board, into your wake. Tyrant Perhaps some flicker of vestigial wisdom still keeps vigil in the demon city, for it has sent you here. Here, to this land most denied even the paltry guidance of Creation's usurpers. This land whose every turn of seasons reminds so deeply of the perils omnipresent in this fallen world. Who else, but they who endure such terrors could so appreciate the coming of their saviour? They are not with you now, but this shall pass. When they are ready, they will come. You know that they will follow where you lead. For soon you shall take the first steps down the path... Blocked by a man easily mistaken for festive centrepiece. It dares to look upon you, smile unprovoked, and speak. Sammi has landed. HELLO!
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Oct 30, 2012 03:52
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Drunk on Bitter Fortunes Fortunes strides off of the deck, utterly at ease. Though a Slayer, his patron is Kimbery, and he is in his element here, on the docks. Where settlement launches to sea. And sailors come to drink their cares away. He bites the cork off a heavy glass bottle, redolent with odors of clove, cinnamon, vanilla, and the acrid tang of strong liquor. Spitting it out onto the pier, he looks at the newcomer who tagged along with the Scourge, giving sass to the Tyrant. ...Clearly, this was a new friend. <Someone not immediately cowed by the Tyrant? Be careful, Chukh; he's probably dangerous.> <So am I. Besides, how bad can he be?> <You did not just say that. I know you didn't.> Ignoring his coadjutor, Fortunes takes a swig of the pungent liquid and walks up to the newcomers. "Cloud, good to see you again. Here. Have a drink. Who's your buddy?" e: Goddamnit, unstuck in time again. Stupid wibbly-wobbly-timey-wimey. MadcapViking fucked around with this message at 14:19 on Oct 30, 2012 |
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Oct 30, 2012 14:04
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Gentle Snow Cloud enjoyed the qat tea, appreciating its flavor and gab-inducing qualities. “There is nothing illegal about mining tools. There could be a lot to hide about the act of mining, if you were doing it on someone else’s land. Where, exactly, were these tools supposed to go? Nevermind, perhaps I will find out, myself. It could be useful to know if someone has found a hidden vein of feathersteel and is trying to steal from the League. Very useful, indeed.” “Did you find anything of interest ashore? Did you meet the mysterious ‘mistress’ of this town?” Gonna make smalltalk a while
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Oct 30, 2012 18:23
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Tarn Kavik Tarn gives a subtle nod to Snow at the captain's words to signal that the man is being truthful. Learning anything more would require either a shipping manifest or more information from the Guildsman. Snow looks to be on top of the latter, and searching for the former would probably be both tedious and redundant. In any case, the grains and coal alone are cause enough for concern - with the sea about to ice over, these supplies are likely the last their intended recipients may see for a while. Stranding folks up north without food or warmth will generally make them angry enough to take matters into their own hands, and the last thing the coven needs is even more attention. Also, it'd be kind of a dick move to strand someone up north without food or warmth. Taking the remaining launch along with an oarsman, Tarn sets out for shore. Rutherford awaits him at the docks, sitting patiently as he debarks and bids the crewman return to the ship. With a nod to his hound, Tarn searches for the Tyrant (never an inconspicuous figure at the best of times) and heads in that general direction.
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Oct 31, 2012 23:55
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The Glorious Tyrant The Tyrant looks upon the elf that stands before him. One of the ancient enemy, whose kind would soon serve to power Tarn's device. He was conflicted, a part of him called out to crush the existence out of the foul creature, another wondered what use an elven slave would have. He compromised with a jibe aimed at the impudent creature, that dared show its face in Thieon's Creation without even the respect to supplicate himself before the Empyreal Chaos' chosen. "I'm surprised the Cold Iron Brand would associate with one of your... kind."
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Nov 1, 2012 00:02
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Silk and Silver Cloud "I want to introduce Sammi here to you all. I don't know everything I want to know about him yet, but he tells great stories and weighs about as much as a feather and apparently isn't mortal!" He turns to Sammi. "Did you want to go get your ring now or did you want to talk with my, ah, associates here?"
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Nov 1, 2012 05:15
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