|
Daughter of Onyx and Silver Onyx glances around the room. Things seemed to be contained, if you didn't count Damnation making himself a target for a large group of The Alphas regenerate. With the imposition of her will over reality still in effect through the devious Crystal Chameleon Style, she glides with deceptive swiftness to the prone, Green-clad Alpha. A flick of her wrist binds the Woodblood in the soulsteel chain, and the strange Essence of the infected lances through her body again. As the energy flows from Dragon to Abyss, Onyx realizes just how hard she'd pushed herself during the confrontation. She's happy to keep the thing Incapacitated, for now, but it seems... imprudent to risk letting it transfer its power to others, the way the Yellow Alpha had. And now, Onyx is bored. There's a thrill to be had forcing the thing to submit, keeping it on a soulsteel leash, but there was noise outside, which likely meant trouble, which meant chances to show off (for those who could keep up). "Damnation, Jackal... if one of you could bring a torch, we can move on to other things. I'd rather not have the Green Ranger, here, recover and stab us all in the back. And it's not like we can drag it out... there..." The thought spurs a grin. "How do you feel about making a Statement?" Bumping Charisma from 1->2, buying Presence 1; total 7xp. Will update the sheet to reflect this. Assuming that I don't need to roll to Clinch the thing while it's Incap'd and keep it that way; 16 dice if I DO need to roll. Hopefully I can rebuild a store of Essence before the Next Big Thing. pre:Daughter of Onyx and Silver's Combat Statblock Health Levels Soak* DV -0 O Bash 10 Parry 8 (Chain Daiklave) -1 OO Lethal 11 Dodge 7 (8 v. ranged) -2 OO Agg 10 MDV 6/7 (DDV/PDV, +App mod) -4 O Hard 2L/2B Incapacitated OOOO *With Discreet Essence Armor active Chain Daiklave "Regular" Sp 5 Acc 15 Dam 7/2L Def 8 Rate 2 Dire Chain Sp 5 Acc 15 Dam 10/2B Def 8 Rate 2 Clinch Sp 6 Acc 16 Dam 8/2B,P Def 7 Rate 1 Short Daiklave Sp 4 Acc 17 Dam 5/2L Def 7 Rate 2 Essence 3 PersEss: 8/19 PeriEss: 0/24 (16 committed) Will 6/10
|
#
?
Mar 7, 2013 19:59
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 28, 2024 00:04 |
|
|
That's not a firing squad, THIS is a firing squad! To their credit, the three new Exalts are defiant to the last. As the hail of stones begins to fall, they draw their swords and rally the others, batting aside the worst of the volley. For a moment, it looks as though the sailors might pull through unscathed... ...but Wyrm's speech, and the grisly way she pieced herself back together, have rattled the rank and file. In the briefest of instants, a crack appears in their wall of steel. It is enough. As the first one falls to the onslaught, so do his neighbors lose the protection of his blade and fall in turn. So it goes, until the three woodbloods stand alone amidst the bodies of the dead and dying. Seeing his opening, V'neef Auling fires three shots in quick succession; each slams home at the exact instant that Never's own arrows fall from above. And just like that, it's over. The Smaragdi, overtaxed and undernourished, look confused and frightened once more. Coming down from her adrenaline high, Rose slumps to her knees, air coming in gulps and gasps while her anima flux throws a chaotic crisscross of shadows across the bazaar, flickering and strobing to reveal the aftermath of her rampage. The great wooden gate set into the curtain wall stands, unguarded and aflame. Tribals roll like gods to take down the remaining scale, and Never/Auling deliver multiple doses to each of the new 'xalts - that's all she wrote, folks. 2-die stunt for Wyrm. Why Can't We Be Friends? Blades and bodkins bristle at Damnation as he delivers his ultimatum. The surviving infected watch his every movement, eyes and faces hidden by cloth and chain swathing. Whether through reason or rhetoric, something in his words reaches the hive. Unfortunately, they aren't the only ones who take note. Roll itself is a hit, stunt dice make it past the +3 MDV bonus for being in combat. This is totes a Sin of Life, though, so Damnation accrues 2 Resonance. His answer comes in a low, susurrating whisper, originating not from any one individual but the group as a whole; a chorus of inflections and intonations whose sum resembles human speech. "Then it profits us nothing to fight." One lowers his spear and points back at Jackal, sinking his teeth into a comatose archer, and Onyx, preparing a funeral pyre. "But if that is the only mercy we may expect, then neither will we surrender." Again, the spearman indicates Jackal. "We recognize that one as one of the Deceivers; we know of the power of their oaths. Swear to us that you will not harm us further, nor tear us from ourselves, and we will do all in our power to aid you in bringing low the Master." Jackal finds that he can hear the conversation plainly from halfway across the building. He can practically feel the indignation and outrage at the treatment of their comrade, feel the pain of the man as his life ebbs away. ...no, wait, he can these things, as clearly as if they were his own! In hindsight, drinking from someone infected with a shadowland-eating symbiote wasn't the best idea; Jackal should probably have a doctor look at that. Perhaps when he's done patching up Mr. Splashy (success, and a 1-die stunt, btw). 1-die stunt for Onyx. Once More With Feeling Never in plaintext, Bolt in italics Bolt flutters downward onto the ledge of the building's wall, assuming his human form in a flash of radiance. He raises an eyebrow at the scenes unfolding below on either side. "Gotta say," he comments with a faint smile, "not quite what I expected when I signed on." "I told you, we Abyssals are very good at killing things." Never grins, landing beside him. "Or were you referring to something... more personal?" The thunderbird takes a seat. "Kinda both." He sweeps an arm out over the battlefield. "Looks like a massacre, but just eyeballing it...seems like we're about fifty percent for taking them alive, and maybe a dozen casualties on our own side. Honestly? I came here expecting we'd have to wipe this place off the map." He frowns. "I think...after everything that happened, I was almost looking forward to it. But now? The plants were just pawns. Same as the Immaculates." Bolt looks to the dusted remains of the yellow officer. "Same as all of us. And it almost worked for that bastard Sid - because he was counting on us not doing this. Because he was counting on us being...well, good at killing things." "I see. We were meant to swing a daiklave, not a scalpel." She rests a hand on his shoulder. "Each of us was chosen for this mission, Bolt. I wondered why, and why so many... But I'm starting to understand." He smiles at her touch. "At least one of us is. So, why do you think you guys got tapped for this?" "Restraint and initiative." she says. "Unusual qualities for pawns." She laughs then, realizing something. "Perhaps we were meant as ambassadors. It seems to have turned out that way." "Restraint and initiative..." Bolt echoes. "Yeah, I think that might have actually caught him off-guard." He cranes his head to look up at the mountainside. "...still, always have to be careful around those guys. The way they work is, whenever they start to lose, they change the rules." He leans in a little closer, placing his own hand on Never's shoulder. "Speaking of showing initiative..." "We weren't playing by the rules to begin with." she says, content to be drawn into his warm embrace. If they all want to talk, maybe I'll give them something to talk about. He slides his arm down her back and looks down at her, his blue eyes locked with her red ones. "Feels like I should say something here." A moment passes, and he shrugs. "Eh, I was always better at the 'show' than the 'tell'." Bolt pulls Never close and kisses her on the lips. Never's wings unfurl, then curl around the pair of them, a thin veil of privacy from the world. The battle is over; it's time to rest, recover, and enjoy the victory. And with that, victory is yours...for now at least. Have some XP for your trouble! You also have a short downtime, as you have six more days before Cleansing Tide finishes...whatever he's doing up there. Awards posted:Characters: Back at the palisade... The sky transitions through a dazzling assortment of colors as the sun finally sets below the western horizon, one last flare of brilliance marking its departure from the sky. No moon rises to take its place; for tonight, and tomorrow night, the stars are alone in the sky. Without warning, a bejeweled skeleton in a top hat materializes next to the sulking 'volcano'-god. He topples with a start and a yell of alarm; within seconds, his own shrine has been set aflame by the fire burning in his skull. "Oh, hi there!" Wandering Rainbow greets him. "I'm sorry we didn't get the chance to talk more, but there were important things going on down in the local underworld!" It turns its rictus grin on the two Daybreaks in the encampment. "At first I didn't think there were that many ghosts left - it seemed like Cleansing Tide had taken them all! But it's okay! It turns out he's been killing lots of people while the Jewel was at sea, and they were busy hiding from him!" It cocks its head. "Well, at first they were hiding from him - now they're with us!" One by one, will-o-wisps flicker into visibility in the clearing, balls of blue fire that gradually resolve into mournful-looking human shapes. Most are tribals, but many of them are clad in the uniforms of the Immaculate Order; all of them are armed. The deities begin to huddle close together, looking more than a little bit nervous at this new development. Unperturbed, Rainbow rambles on. "Apparently, whatever that evil circle you won't talk about is, the lingering magic is keeping all the people who died here from moving on. They were all afraid that Tide was going to come for them too, but then she came and started teaching them all to fig-oh! Here she is now!" One wisp drifts forth from the mass, far larger than the others and burning with an eerie, dark-green phosphorescence. Where it floats, wilted flowers rise in a mockery of life beneath it, and the cloying scent of tropical blooms lingers about it in the air. Billowing like smoke, it unfolds and unravels like a summer blossom, spreading into arms and legs and body and head. The figure stands taller than all three Abyssals. Clad in robes of tattered emerald, she leans on a spectral staff of green jade - not a walking stick, but a weapon. Slung across her back is a bow of the same phantasmal substance. Her bare hands bear dreadful scars, as does her scowling face, and her hair waves as if alive, despite the lack of wind. Trapped within her gemstone, Koko'Ino gasps. Murmur hastily dissolves into a puddle and flows into the creek. "You're late," says the ghost of Cynis Xùlan.
|
|
#
?
Mar 10, 2013 01:56
|
|
|
Last Damnation of Atlantis - Warehouse "It's a dark day when I'm the one who delivers good tidings of peace." Damnation turns, still unmasked, to the hive. "They will be stopped. He is one of the Deceivers? Well, I am one of the Destroyers, the only of my caste among this group, and they will follow my lead, at least when it comes to matters of war." Spying Onyx, he shouts up loudly. "Daughter of Onyx and Silver! A ceasefire agreement is being reached. Put out that fire, excuse yourself, and have a drink." He then looks at Jackal..."Oh,God, Jackal, what in Creation!? Jackal, you raging incompetent ninny! Get down here!" Without waiting for a response, Damnation goes to fetch Jackal himself. "I, The Last Damnation of Atlantis, swear upon the graves of my enemies and ancestors that you are the stupidest Abyssal I have ever come across, and I, The Last Damnation of Atlantis, swear that if you act in such ignorance again, I, The Last Damnation of Atlantis, will cut you in half and report sins against intelligence sufficient to justify the utter destruction of each half by order of the Deathlords, which shall be then carried out by I, The Last Damnation of Atlantis!" With Jackal carried down in front of the Hive, negotiations proceed once again. "Your offer is generally reasonable. However, I fear I must negotiate one caveat and one additional condition." Gesturing towards Jackal, Damnation angrily intones "This one has gone and infected himself like an idiot. I must reserve the right to cut him away from you in the future should it be determined to be necessary. My masters would not allow it any other way." "Also, you must understand that while I see no reason we cannot coexist, your unbridled expansion is unsustainable and will bring you into conflict with impossibly large powers. Therefore, I shall require you to, once Cleansing Tide is defeated, pursue to the utmost of your ability a way to stop yourselves from emitting spores and taking new bodies. This is the only way to stop the tide of people endlessly cutting portions away from you. Prior to Tide's defeat, investigate it so long as it does not interfere with the conflict to defeat the rogue grandmaster. Understand that you have taken many bodies from us as well, and we often take them from you merely to return our own. I mean no insult by this claim, but it must be done." "Do you agree, Hive?" MiltonSlavemasta fucked around with this message at 04:35 on Mar 10, 2013 |
|
#
?
Mar 10, 2013 02:57
|
|
|
Watcher at the Gates of Sorrow The admiral's eyes bulge out a bit as he sees what Koko'Ino is so surprised about. He gives the ghost a polite nod and wastes no time. "We apologize for our lateness. Sister Rose has received all of your messages and is on the island doing what you have asked. I feel obligated to ask before we go any further: is there any information you have which may be vital to our survival or plans in the next day? Otherwise, I am sure some people would like to invite you to tea."
|
|
#
?
Mar 10, 2013 03:55
|
|
|
The Everlasting Butterfly of the Decadent Garden Not sure what to do. Recommended course of action: Tea Party Personal: 19/19, Peripheral: 3/31, Blood-Rose: 6/7, Willpower: 4 --> 3/10; Anima: Dark Aura Sheet updated: Butterfly stares, her smile gradually widening as her mind processes all the information in front of her. Cyris Xulan. Dead. A ghost. Oh my. This day is just getting more unexpected with each passing moment. "You're looking well. Welcome to our side of the coin! As I'm sure you already know, death really isn't so bad. You seem to have taken to it quite well, in fact! Would you care for some--" Watcher at the Gates of Sorrow posted:"Otherwise, I am sure some people would like to invite you to tea." "Hey!" Butterfly turns to the side, glaring void-knives at Watcher. "That's my job." She whispers, although without actually any attempt to be quiet or subtle it ends up being mostly angry hissing at the admiral. Then the Daybreak turns back to Xulan, taking upon a posture and demeanor of perfect kindness and harmony and she removes several packages of assorted teas from her person. "Would you care for some tea, or your companions for that matter? I'm sure we have much to discuss." She gestures to some of the mortals around to bring them a table and several chairs. (I frankly have no idea what to roll for this, so Thes you can pick out the stats and roll. Butterfly is mostly just using chit-chat and tea as an excuse to learn vital information from Xulan. I have Investigation now, am trying to use the spec bonus, and will channel Compassion (since we get those back after the downtime) for extra dice. And of course, the most important question of all: What does Xulan prefer to drink? Yes I'm keeping track.) Krysmphoenix fucked around with this message at 16:59 on Mar 11, 2013 |
|
#
?
Mar 10, 2013 04:40
|
|
|
Spawn of the Devouring Wyrm - Triumphant Her enemy broken and subdued, her followers trembling at horror of their victory, Wyrm stands once more triumphant on the field of battle. For now. The latent toxins of the newborn woodbloods continue creeping through her veins. It would take four times as much to threaten her unlife, but the venom still makes its presence felt. Her mount responds before the first signs of unrest, trotting to its master's side. She lays a hand against it for support. Her arm brushes by Auling's leg, sending a deathly chill up his spine. Despite all the night's intensity, perhaps because of it, the captain's body is colder than the deepest winter night. Not content to simply be devoid of heat, she draws in the vital warmth of all the world around her. She speaks no word, makes no move, doesn't even look his way, but at the moment he understands a need to act. A certainty that any other course of action invites disaster. He reaches down and takes Wyrm's hand. Unthinking, he draws the poison from her icy flesh. It catches her attention. For the first time since that dreadful night at sea, Wyrm looks... well... not offended by his presence. He may dare to think she looks satisfied. He'd dare not say it. Buying Essence 3, E2 subordinates are now subject to my Ruthless Efficiency. She surveys the crowd. Gives them just not enough time to understand. "Fate condemned you to Death." She flashes fangs, "Tonight, Death comes to condemn Fate." "Let any soul who'd testify against the heavens follow in my wake." She slides effortlessly into the saddle. "And if any here would speak in their defence," She draws a flame piece and casts a burst of white upon the fallen sailors, "throw them on the pyre!" Recruitin' time - Cult 2 for 6xp, Command to 2 for 3xp To see Rose bowed and broken, awash with the sickness of righteous rage and sorrow from the night the two first met, is not a pleasant sight. But Wyrm is pleased. Wyrm is Proud. For all the cruelty fate had set upon her, Rose fought on. And when she can take more, Wyrm would be there to free her from that pain. To lay her to rest, that she may rise again and soldier on. Wyrm rides to the edge of Rose's aura. She braves the heat to lay an open hand upon her head, "Well done." So speaks the void. Conviction 2 for 4xp and prepare to take Rose aside for hugs. A_Raving_Loon fucked around with this message at 15:52 on Mar 10, 2013 |
|
#
?
Mar 10, 2013 05:39
|
|
|
Blighted Jackal Face Master Bugger. Crap. Arse. A myriad of profanities and angry grunting are broadcast from Jackal to the hivemind as he realizes the situation he just got in. Truly, the hubris of an undead immune to common diseases and the literal bloodthirst he was in after such a heated battle were what drove him into this unfortunate situation. And then there's the bearded fool who DARES to assume that tone against him. Oh no, that will not do at all! "Excuse me? Did someone said something?" He makes a conch hand gesture on his ear at Damnation's direction, with a mock face of puzzlement. "I, JACKAL, THINK SOMEONE say SOMETHING. Because AS FAR AS I, JACKAL KNOW, we are not supposed to make merry with the UNEDIBLE MAGGOTS! Your brain might not comprehend the intricacies of weaving accords and such with entities, yet you try to do so with those whose allegiance was against us not but a few minutes ago, and even tries to give them TERMS?" Jackal points at the infected lancers, with a look of pure disgust on his face as if he was showing an used toilet. Every muscle in his face made sure he was completely repulsed by such company and ideas. "That disease will spread!" He coughs a bit as a theatrical help for such. "And it will be on your head, because you, 'Last Damnation of Atlantis', are too much of a weak-hearted fool to know what must be done. And while you speak of denouncing I, Jackal to the Deathlords, you should know what they think of such feelings of mercy." He spits on the ground, walking away from Damnation and approaching Onyx. "Healer. Remove this filthiness from my body."
|
|
#
?
Mar 10, 2013 19:40
|
|
|
Last Damnation of Atlantis Damnation sighs. Jackal's ego seemed to powerful for even his overpowering presence to work its wonders on him. "Jackal, you ate one of them, so now you are one of those...I'll not repeat that slur in front of the hive. The 'disease' will spread unless I negotiate an end to its spreading and encouraging the Hive to stop spreading. And, in case you weren't paying attention, we're supposed to be the cancer that is killing Creation. That's sort of the whole Death Knight bit." The exasperated pirate heads to the door, clearing the flaming debris with his blade and stomping out the last sputtering remnants with his boots. He shouts over the din of battle, though not in an angry tone, "Wyrm, I have begun talks with the Hive itself. It requests a Moonshadow to consecrate an oath with me. Please come inside the warehouse to do so at your earliest convenience. Jackal will not be suitable."
|
|
#
?
Mar 10, 2013 21:42
|
|
|
Daughter of Onyx & Silver The Day caste wastes no time jumping to Damnation's suggestion. "Yes, sir, Mister First Mate, sir!" Within moments, the fire is out, she's left the green Alpha in a more or less comfortable position on the floor, and she's half-vanished, the residual anima flare marking her general location. "Healer. Remove this filthiness from my body." The Daughter drops from the catwalk above her arguing crewmates and arches an eyebrow at Jackal. "Healer? Not really my thing." She stretches her arms behind her back, the motion doing intriguing things underneath her silken armor. "No, I'm more what those in the business call a 'wetworks' girl." Onyx grins and takes a long pull of the rum she managed to scrounge from... somewhere. "Besides, I think you'd look cute in green." She drops the bottle to her side. "But, if you insist..." The soulsteel blade flickers as she spins it around her hand, and then buries itself to the hilt in Jackal's leg, just to the left of his groin. As an afterthought, the redheaded woman douses the wound in rum once she removes her weapon. She (rather considerately, in her opinion) does not set it aflame for extra sterilization. "Get yourself checked out by Waves or Butterfly, if you want to be sure you're cured. I have no idea what the dosage on this stuff is, and the aftereffects are a bitch." As the cure takes effect, and Jackal collapses with a dull "clank" as the buff jacket impacts the floor, Onyx looks at the small puddle of dripping booze disgustedly, and meanders over to Damnation, muttering dark imprecations about alcohol abuse and idiots who only think with their balls and their bellies. She quite deliberately ignores the hypocrisy of her complaints. Outside, their 'opposing' captain inveighs against Cleansing Tide and his ilk, her words drifting faintly to the warehouse doorway. While waiting for Wyrm to respond, Onyx leans against the now-extinguished door frame. "So. Sidereals. Cheating master-of-disguise bastards with fancy karate and some sort of connection to Fate. Want to lay odds that he's got some sort of nasty trap prepared for us?" Per Thes, autodealing a single Lethal to Jackal to cure him, no roll required for the sake of expediency. 5m on Crime-Unveiling Wickedness to Find Booze; 4sux. Former customs warehouse, you say? DON'T MIND IF I DO! Int+Occult to know what a "Sidereal" is: 3sux
|
|
#
?
Mar 10, 2013 23:54
|
|
|
The Waves, Ceaseless and Unending, Devour the Shore, Temporarily Solving a Complex Problem in Inhuman Relations With a Simple Technological Solution When Ceaseless looks up from his neat handiwork on Mr. Splashy to see that Jackal has managed to get himself infected, he sighs and bows his head. With a grunt of effort, he tears himself away from the blood before him and sets off in search of some of the antimony mixture. Before he can find any, Damnation and Onyx have taken care of the symptom. Contemplating the inability of their new ally to remember the capabilities of his extremely limited number of crewmates, control his flying machine, restrain his tongue or teeth, Ceaseless begins work on a cure for the disease itself. The engineer wanders the warehouse, collecting ropes and chains until his arms are full. He approaches the collapsed deathknight. "You, Jackal, have made it to the top...of my poo poo list. It was a fierce competition, but this escapade was worth a lot of points. Luckily, they say an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. Ladies and gentlemen, BEHOLD, six hundred and forty loving pounds of cure!" He drops the pile of material with a clatter at Jackal's feet. Whistling cheerfully through cracked and bleeding lips once more, Ceaseless thoroughly trusses the unconscious Moonshadow. "It would appear you have suffered from not having had some of the same life lessons as I. There really is no better way to learn how to control one's thirst than be forced to endure for days in the midst of an undrinkable liquid. Alas, we don't have the time or proper conditions to truly replicate that lesson, but never let it be said that I cannot improvise in the face of adverse conditions." The engineer doesn't have much experience in tying up people, but it can't be too much harder than tying up the mainsail in a hurricane. He's very thorough, just to make sure. "Since you can shoot bolts of energy from your eyes, you should be able to get out of this eventually. But let's add one last touch just to make that approach slightly more uncomfortable," he says as he blindfolds Jackal. Sail 5, Craft 4, Larceny 0, but not actually rolling anything since I don't care if he gets free eventually. pre:Willpower: 9/10 Conviction: 3/4 Temperance: 1/1 Compassion: 2/2 Valor: 2/2 Personal Pool: 19/19 Peripheral Pool: 6/40 (Attuned motes: 29)
|
|
#
?
Mar 11, 2013 00:22
|
|
|
Never Within Reach -Scouring the Harbor (small guest by Wyrms) Temporarily sated, the Day caste unfurled her wings as the last rays of the setting sun faded from view. "Duty calls, and the loyal pawn must answer." she slipped from his arms, caught herself in the air and looked to the scene below. Her thoughts turned to Wyrms as her essence followed the well-traveled path to the Moonshadow's mind. <O captain, my captain...> She called, a purr of pleasure in her voice that had not been there previously. <Battle is ended and victory is ours. What would you have me do?> <Oh Never Misses The Appointed Time and Target, Be a dear and sweep the sea.> Wyrms' voice slipped from pleasure to business. <Sweep and clear each vessel in the harbour. Claim what's of value, purge what's of inconvenience. No trace of these escape this place alive. When you're done feeling up the weather, remind him that this isle needs fire.> <Consider it done.> She hesitated for a moment, remembering something Bolt had said. <I've heard mention of fire not far from here. If the weather can be persuaded to change for me, perhaps I can bring the flames to heel as well.> And there was something else there, something she needed to do... <Make it so, snake-charmer. Bring home something to keep us warm at night.> With Captain's blessing given, she directed her attention to the ships in the harbor. The faded light would make searching difficult, but that was no obstacle to a friend of the storm. On silent wings she passed between ships, Bolt's blue incandecence above her striking deep shadows across spar and rigging. Her monocle gleamed in the soft light, scouring holds for essence signatures, and cabins for other valuables. A girl needs her trophies, after all... Boat-Search! Per+Larc = 4 sux. mistaya fucked around with this message at 03:48 on Mar 11, 2013 |
|
#
?
Mar 11, 2013 02:55
|
|
|
Blighted Jackal Face Master "And that's why competition is not required, and if anything, a cancer IS a new kind of life form, one that will have to be eliminated in the future, therefo-" Jackal says as he turns his head back to Damnation, ignoring (except for the part where he's called 'cute'  ) the scary woman advancing towards him with a blade. And then he gets stabbed. "...I, Jackal, believe that almost driving a sword into my crotch is not a functional cure, at least not with a sword instead of a scalpel. Still, your advice on looking for someone else is being taken in consideration." He remarks with quite a dissonant serenity considering how the whole 'being stabbed' situation, either being by the fact that the whole horrible chain of events obliterated any possibility of him to actually feel indignation or because of his own consciousness slipping."Maybe there has been a few errors on the way to deal with you all, considering you do have the means to kill me. And might be trying to do so right now, so how about we try a clean slate approach on that? I, Jackal, am saying so because at this moment my state of mind is wavering on strange places." He weakly says while trying to maintain consciousness.
|
|
#
?
Mar 11, 2013 03:32
|
|
|
Spawn of the Devouring Wyrm - Riot Aftermath Six well-dressed servants breech the crowd and converge on Wyrm. The crew salute, Poem bows and offers her congratulations on a battle well fought. Wyrm softly relays further commands. "I want these counted, sorted, and fed. They'll need more than stolen knives and outrage to march against the tide." Intuiting that his ride is over, Auling dismounts and takes the sleeping body of Sesus Okove. Wyrm carries on, "Secure the subdued exalts and prepare them to be questioned. Maintain watch on the infested sailors." She hears damnation call her praises aside Jackal's condemnations. Knowing her will is made clear, she breaks from the others and rides to the open gates. On the way, she muses Damnation, if you keep crawling into bed with all our neutral enemies like this - I may have to keep you around. She makes sure to trample the corpses not yet ablaze. Inside She vaults the last of the debris and slides to a halt. Streaks of blood and bits of shrapnel scatter from the horse's hooves. She takes a moment to admire the level of dedication Ceaseless applies to binding a delirious Jackal. "Well, that explains everything. Wouldn't suit to have him seal his own wedding vows." She leans back with the breathless absence of a hearty laugh, then looks with pity to the fallen. She hears their terms. She yawns. "First-time surrendering? It shows." She slides ahead and rests against the horse's head. "I'll be gentle." "First, know this - You are already dead. There is no force at play that would not see each of your races strangled in the cradle. Even Tide's chosen strain, once it has served its purpose, will be cast aside." She waves over the crates which Onyx spied on, "He's already been well at work putting down your unborn." "Our mercy, is that your deaths will not be wasted, that you may give your remaining lives for a greater cause." Her eyes sweep the crowd until she find the distinctive markings of a Tya, there are a few about, each gets a knowing look. "Swear that you shall cease to spread, pursuing by all means to permanently halt the propagation of your kind in all its forms, and we will spare you unnatural lives to devote to war on the grandmaster and his ilk." At long last she takes the time to holster the pistol she'd drawn outside, and waits.
|
|
#
?
Mar 11, 2013 19:53
|
|
|
Going Once... The infected soldiers stiffen at Wyrm's mention of Tide's "infanticide". Without words, one of the spearmen breaks away from the group and breaks open one of the shipping crates to peer inside. His assessment takes only a moment. The collective shriek of rage and grief is like nothing any human has ever uttered. Dredged from its slumber by the outrage of its fellows, the green officer pulls itself shakily to its feet, rootlike veins throbbing beneath the surface of its skin. Its transfiguration is less extreme than that of its progenitor, but there is still something notably inhuman in its expression, in its unblinking stare and raspy voice (although the latter may have its recent poisoning to blame). "Your terms are...mostly acceptable. Should we survive, we will refrain from any form of forcible or unwilling conversion...but we must be permitted to accept voluntary converts. Grant us this, and we will do all in our power to aid you. We expect that our kin will accept the same terms." The officer lowers its hood, revealing a man with skin grey and wrinkled like bark and hair of ivy. "Do we have a deal?" Mixed Messages Peeling paint on the side of the first boat Never descends upon pronounces the vessel the Thrice-Widowed Maiden. The scene that greets her inside is utterly bizarre - a veritable plague of the orchid-men...standing rigidly at attention, turning eyeless faces to her as she passes. There are nearly as many of the creatures dead as alive, and it quickly strikes the Day caste that every instance of the purple strain she spies has been dispatched, evidently by the others. The flowers watch her, but make no move to attack. Even so, she still takes the time to block the door into the hold with the heaviest piece of furniture she can lift. And she can lift some drat heavy furniture. In every space she checks, the story is the same: plants and seedlings, well-hidden (but not so well that someone who knows what to look for can't find them), all but the purple withered and desiccated. It would seem that this is, in fact, exactly what it looks to be. An answer that would satisfy any ordinary inspector, however, is nowhere near good enough for Never. It strikes her that everything on this boat seems utterly disposable; in the event of an emergency (say, someone nosing around where they aren't wanted), it can all be thrown overboard and summarily destroyed with minimal inconvenience. Where would someone put something more crucial, something that had to reach its destination intact but couldn't be anywhere someone might suspect to look? Someplace that wouldn't be at all safe for it, of course! The ship's icebreaker prow suggests that it's outfitted for northern seafaring, which in turn implies that it has a furnace to keep the crew from freezing to death. Never pulls open the fuel bin and sifts through the heap of coal, and is at last rewarded when she withdraws a tiny, rectangular box, an insulating device made of an outer layer of red jade and an inner layer of blue. Inside, a booklet. The contents of the log are, naturally, encrypted, but Never has always had a knack for ciphers. In a scant hour, she discovers that the numbers and letters inside are codes for coordinates. None correspond to any location marked on the Envoy's charts...but one catches her eye. Some quick mental math tells her that it can only be the same 'Lordsmeet Isle' that Bolt had mentioned earlier. And beyond that... Never: A chill runs down your spine as you recognize the sobriquets of the Deathlords themselves. Nine names in all are on the list, along with four lines reading "Unknown". Two of them - the Bishop and the Silver Prince - have been crossed off. The next page is an inked portrait - a thin, middle-aged man with spectacles and a ponytail. A thin inscription below the face names him "Wesley Merrin". After that, a straight-haired woman; fairly plain-looking, but for the catlike ears that protrude from her hair ("Safe In My Shadow, AKA Lyla Merrin"). After that... You nearly drop the book in shock. Staring back at you is none other than a certain obnoxiously-persistent Lunar, along with his title and name ("Implacable Guileful Hunter" and "Tovay Arrigham", respectively. A turn of the page later, and you're looking at your own reflection. No name is listed; merely a question mark below the portrait. The page after that has a hastily-scribbled note in the same cipher. "L - kill everyone aboard not infected with the Purple Heartbreak strain, then begin distribution at once. It took me months just to get clearance for the index - the book is Jarviksen's Stranger Tides and Distant Shores - A Retrospective on a Life at Sea. Try the Denzik - S. With 4 sux, you don't manage to decrypt the whole book, but something tells you that you should perhaps hold onto it and finish the job later.
|
|
#
?
Mar 17, 2013 06:38
|
|
|
Spawn of the Devouring Wyrm - Presiding Such outrage that their sorrow wakes the dead. Yes. Her horse has already turned back for the door. Wyrm swivels around and lays against its head, facing the assembled bodies. "You may collect the willing, but you shall not solicit their will. Should any person, being well informed of your nature and the full consequence its embrace, by their will alone invite you to take root within them - then so be it." "However," She is getting far too comfortable for anyone's good, "If I am to accept your co-belligerence in this campaign I must know the full extent to which the Grandmaster's special weapon has turned against him. If you truly forsake his name, then forsake his cause and swear off his intended use for you. If you pledge yourself completely to see the tides brought low, then swear off all right of aggressive warfare against the sovereign souls and territories of the nations of the dead." They seem accepting. She beckons the officer. "Then from this night, let your fate be written in the stars below." Surrender Pact Green - sealed. The deed is done. For a moment, Wyrm is silent. Her head bowed in remembrance for a defeated foe. With a grisly snap she surges back to action. She first addresses the plants. "Appoint two representative bodies to maintain communication, then cordon the rest of yourselves somewhere out of sight. I may have accepted your offering, but there's a wing of angry tribals who've already tasted sap tonight. They must stay focused on a higher goal." "Damnation!" A quick leap puts her in range to slap her comrade on the shoulder, "If you're so eager to take up gardening, you'd best start pulling weeds. Take a share of the rabble and clean out any unwelcome growth." Looking over to the engineer she sounds quite dryly professional, "Ceaseless, there's was a stock of poison hidden here once used upon the seedlings. Seek it out to augment our supply, then secure the remains of any violet to be found and search it for surprises." "Onyx," as to a dear old friend, not seen in ages, "There's a whole harbour out there not nailed down." She need not explain any further. She rides over to the thunderbirds, "Alright boys, time to your best impression of Vultures. We need all our recently medicated bodies collected and secured - Monks together, Tya together, others apart. We'll get to talking once they can listen." She strokes Herald's hair, "And once that's done I've got this little place by the beach that needs a bit of work done." She leaves him with that thought and charges back out into the night. There's victory in the air. She has bodies to pile and burn, veterans to console, and sad news for a little patch of blue flowers. Ok! There's my most of my thoughts on what needs to get done tonight. You can assume free exchange of news and revelations with other PCs as desired.
|
|
#
?
Mar 17, 2013 14:59
|
|
|
Never Within Reach and Last Damnation of Atlantis - Conspiring Never flipped through the pages one more time before slamming the book closed in disgust. Ciphers didn’t usually give her much trouble, and she’d almost gotten this one nailed down. But the last little bit was still beyond her grasp. A fresh set of eyes was needed, one not distracted by the presence of familiar faces in the material. Her thought went to Wyrms, but she quickly discarded the notion. Her Captain had other matters on her mind this evening, and they were more pressing. Butterfly was too far away to visit tonight, and probably busy with whatever she and Watcher had unearthed back up north. Of the others, well… A questing thought reached through the lines of essence in the air. It did not have to travel far. <Last Damnation of Atlantis, if you are still interested in secrets, visit the second floor study of our borrowed accommodations.> <I love secrets. I also anticipate speaking with you and Bolt about a particularly insane plan which could allow us to reap unimaginable benefits. I am done here and will come see you in a moment.> Damnation then turned to Wyrm, a bit non-plussed. "As much as I'd like to clean up the rest of the rabble, my presence is required elsewhere. The words of this green strain imply to me that you could swear identical oaths with the blue and yellow strains. If you do not already know, Butterfly and Watcher have captured a blue officer. If you go visit them in the palisades in the shadowland, they will give you the exact location, at which point you can speak with him and have him swear an oath. Also, if you go there, would you kindly bring my Yasal Crystal back? Don't release whatever is in there under any circumstances." After giving Wyrm the necessary information, Damnation left the warehouse, getting telepathic directions to the house. Not bothering to wonder why it was here in particular they had set up shop, he proceeded to the second floor and looked around until he found Never Within Reach. "So what's the secret? A traitor in our midst? The circle's a weapon they're scared of us using?" She laughed. “No traitors… and nothing to do with that secret, I’m afraid.” She held up the book for him to see. “I have been combing the harbor for things of interest, and this I found in a jade-sealed box in a place it wasn’t meant to be found. It’s written in code, and I’ve done most of the work deciphering it, but I seem to be missing the last piece of the key.” She handed a loose sheet of paper to him, detailing what she’d found so far. The book she held on to. It read as follows: First page, Deathlords listed by name, several listed as unknown. Bishop and Silver Prince crossed off. Second page through fifth page, ink portraits. (Presumably) Mortal Male, Lunar Female, Lunar Male, ----- Sixth page, scribbled note in same cipher, written in haste: "L - kill everyone aboard not infected with the Purple Heartbreak strain, then begin distribution at once. It took me months just to get clearance for the index - the book is Jarviksen's Stranger Tides and Distant Shores - A Retrospective on a Life at Sea. Try the Denzik - S.” "That's as far as I've gotten." Never said. "It seems to have been intended for someone to read upon reaching its destination. Though where that was... No clues as yet." Damnation shook his head in disbelief. "Could it really be that the Bishop and Silver Prince were to take a delivery of these plants to use for some nefarious purpose? Or, is this Sidereal planning to make war on those Deathlords by shipping these doom plants to humans and lunars who will use them as weapons? My guess would be the latter, but it's impossible to be certain." The pirate looked at the page, taking off his mask to look more closely and scratching at his goatee. "L was supposed to receive these instructions at the destination; Perhaps L is a Lunar who was going to use the purple strain as a weapon against a Deathlord? L certainly must be a stone-cold killer, as he was ordered to kill all the loose ends himself. It looks like Tide has some formidable friends who were to receive these plants." "The hold was full of the plantmen we fought in the northern jungle, save that all the purple strain had been quite recently cut to pieces. Your deal with the hive has already borne fruit. A fact Cleansing Tide will be well aware of by now." Looking at Never, Damnation's eyebrows narrowed as he became resolved about one thing. "I strongly believe Tide is S, what with the whole 'getting clearance for an index' nonsense. That sounds like Yu-Shan talk, and I don't think either of these ninnies are gods. S could stand for Sidereal, or it could stand for his real name. Scrubbing Bubbles, Sparkle Twilight, who knows." "Denzik is a floating merchant city in the region, a bunch of ships lashed together. We should consider trying to buy, borrow, or steal this book 'Jarviksen's Stranger Tides and Distant Shores.'" Damnation paused for a moment. "You know, I think I've actually heard of that book, maybe. Maybe something will come to me while I work on this cipher. Did I read that on the Siren's Heartbreak?: 6d10x7+1 4+1=5 Do I know anything about ciphers?: 1d10x7 1 Never frowned as she released the book itself into his care, turned away as he discovered the identity of the fifth portrait. "I do not know why that is there. Only the male Lunar is familiar to me, and only because he has been trying to kill me ever since..." She sighed. "I am not involved in this, Damnation, to my knowledge." Milton go ahead and read the full spoilers in the last post.
|
|
#
?
Mar 19, 2013 04:02
|
|
|
Daughter of Onyx and Silver Onyx quirks an eyebrow at Wyrm, a half-smile playing about her lips. "Why, Captain Wyrm, I do believe you are insinuating something about my character." A breath in, settling into a deceptively relaxed stance, a breath out, and the lights of the port begin flickering and spinning in an eye-aching prismatic display. The Day caste's voice comes from... somewhere. "I'm insulted you think that nailing things down would stop me." Though the confusing shadows linger, the Daughter has vanished. Taking to the rooftops, it is only the billowing confusion around her that reveals any trace of her presence at all. A quick jaunt brings her to the edge of secured territory; the inspection begins. Lost tribals are rounded up, chivied along to lookouts. Malingering plants are ignored; the hivemind would see to them. She keeps her eyes open for any Dragonblooded, clean or infected, along with staying alert for anything particularly valuable. PersEss: 0/19 PeriEss: 0/24 Tapping myself out to activate Crystal Chameleon Form and Stepping Beyond Light Prana, all motes out of Personal; combined with Unseen Wisp Method, that inflicts a total -6 external penalty to notice Onyx at all. Still have Light-Treading Technique going, as well, so adding MA to Move & Dash actions. 10 sux on the Stealth roll, 6 sux on Investigate.
|
|
#
?
Mar 19, 2013 16:39
|
|
|
To Your...Health? Xùlan stares at Butterfly, unblinking. "Tea. You're...offering me tea." She looks up at the starry sky. "It's too late to have tea, and this is pointless in any event." Despite the Daybreak's invitation, the ghost of the Immaculate remains standing. "Your captain decided to...honor my memory by profaning it with a heretical ceremony, and dragged Sister Sesus and Novice V'neef into it for good measure. Suffice it to say that among the burnt offerings was the full documentation for my research." Stiffly, she hands Butterfly a vast, spectral tome, easily fifteen kilos or more. "Read. You will need everything inside if you are to destroy Scatters-The-Ashes." Inside are the full details of the modified orchids. The rust-red strain, the original, was the crudest - invasive and progressively degenerative. Even if she hadn't been dispatched, the infestation would have eventually consumed her. The green orchids don't display quite the same level of parasitism, but come with a nasty tendency towards mood swings and outbursts of aggression. The blue go too far in the opposite direction; empathy is enhanced to the point that they sympathetic pain can become unbearable. Yellow are patient, cautious, and highly-intelligent...so much so that they began to question their purpose as instruments of war. And purple... ...well, these are just nasty all around. Stronger, faster, and smarter than the other breeds, to say nothing of more obedient and ruthless. The orchidmen they become on death are even nastier - vicious pack-hunters with superior coordination and a bevy of unpleasant surprises. Butterfly: 8 sux to draw conclusions. Purple orchidmen have some mean tricks up their sleeves. They can pneumatically launch volleys of thorns laden with a saplike substance that's pure poison to Creatures of Death (Hellooooo, agg damage!). They're capable of channeling Essence, and if your analysis is correct, should they be linked in a hivemind with an Exalt, they can draw on at least a fraction of said Exalt's power. They can devour ghosts, and on death, they release their stored Essence in a burst that purges shadowlands. Lastly, they aren't immune to the antimony mixture...just quite resistant. Before, Koko'Ino's claim that these could bring down Skullstone seemed silly; now, you're not so sure. And oh, yes: this is definitely the strain that was used to infest the Solars of the Siren's Heartbreak. Joy. That said, there are limits. For each Exalt in the hive, only one orchidman at a time may draw on that individual Exalt's power. In short: kill the glowy ones last. But wait...following Xùlan's logic, another conclusion seems inevitable. In order to preserve a host's ability to wield a Celestial Exaltation, the form for the living infestees is far less invasive. Should you be able to take a purple alpha alive...it might be possible to save them. So there's your strategic assessment. Rose did mention Xù wasn't good with people.
|
|
#
?
Mar 20, 2013 04:06
|
|
|
The Everlasting Butterfly of the Decadent Garden Blue Tea of Death Personal: 19 --> 9/19, Peripheral: 3/31, Blood-Rose: 6/7, Willpower: 3/10; Anima: Dark Aura A problem has been detected and Butterfly has been shut down to prevent damage to your Abyssal. TEA_PARTY_NOT_ACCEPTED If this is the first time you've seen this Stop error screen, restart your Abyssal. If this screen appears again, follow these steps: Check to make sure any new Charms or Spells are properly installed. If this is a new installation, ask your Charm or Spell sorcerer for any Butterfly updates you might need. If problems continue, disable or remove any newly installed Charms or Spells. Disable NECROS memory options such as zombing or ghosting. If you need to use Safe Mode to remove or disable components, restart your Abyssal, press the nose to select Advanced Startup Options, and then select Safe Mode. Technical Information: *** STOP: 0x000000D1 (0x0000000C, 0x00000002, 0x00000000, 0xTEAPARTY) *** tea.sys - Address TEAPARTY base at REJECTED, DateStamp 3dd991eb Beginning dump of physical memory Physical memory dump complete. Contact your Death Lord or sorcerer support group for any further assistance. Butterfly matched Xùlan's unblinking stare with the same degree of shock. Too...late...for...tea? Her mind snapped back into gear as the tome was shoved into Butterfly's hands, and she quickly began flipping through the pages to study it. She hadn't yet variety between the strains of the Chakra Orchid, and the purple ones in general would prove to be a problem, especially with the attack on the Siren's Heartbreak. But...there was still a glimmer of hope, she would need to study that further. "I see...thank you." Butterfly said, when she had finished skimming the tome, and looked back up at Xùlan. Still, something she said bothered her. Scatters-The-Ashes? The one in charge here was Cleansing Tide...but he was certainly not a Dragon-Blooded. Int+Occ for "Wait...Tide's a Sidereal! It makes sense now..." She looked up at Xùlan, stepping closer. "Please, come back with us. With your help, we could stop Scatters-The-Ashes once and for all!" She looked over to Wandering Rainbow who was still lurking around somewhere, and gestured for him to speak up. This was their chance! Krysmphoenix fucked around with this message at 21:31 on Mar 20, 2013 |
|
#
?
Mar 20, 2013 21:28
|
|
|
The Waves, Ceaseless and Unending, Devour the Shore, A Search Party is Not the Fun Kind of Party Ceaseless finishes securing Jackal and tosses an indifferent salute in the direction of the rapidly departing Wyrm and a despairing glance at the location where Onyx was last standing. "There's a reason I'm in charge of stowage," he mutters, "and it has nothing to do with my ability to find things in the completely disorganized wreckage of a major battle and everything to do with my ability to put things away so they're easy to find later." "Bolt, Spark, Herald, you have good eyes, yes? All that flying around and diving on people," he waves his hand in a vaguely stooping motion. "I don't suppose you might assist me in carrying out Her Imperiousness' orders? The truth is that this is not at all my forte." He swivels his head to encompass the warehouse, bone veil somehow conveying dismay in its rattling, then approaches the nearest crate with a weary sigh. "That really did hurt quite a lot, but no rest for our brave hero. 'Why thank you, Ceaseless, that was a very brave thing you did there, our new allies might have been hurt or killed without your valiant efforts.'" He mutters in a fair imitation of Wyrm's voice before trailing off into complete inaudibility as he searches the wreckage. Perception 3 + Investigation 0 - 2 sux
|
|
#
?
Mar 21, 2013 05:50
|
|
|
Business/Pleasure Herald tenses slightly at Wyrm's touch. His eyes follow her, rapturous, every inch of the way as she rides from the warehouse. When at last she vanishes into the smoke and flames of the city, he turns to Spark, gives the other bird a smug, poo poo-eating grin, and mouths something that looks to concern his expectations for the later events of his evening. Spark rolls his eyes and responds with a hand gesture indicative of what he believes a more likely scenario. Bolt already having left, and Herald tending to the captives, Spark assists Ceaseless in searching for anything of interest. While they look, the thunderbird spares a glance in the Abyssal's direction. "...thanks," he mutters. Ceaseless gets the distinct feeling that for Spark, this is positively friendly and engaging. Working together, they quickly locate the stock of weedkiller, and scavenge every fuschia blossom in the warehouse. With commendable thoroughness, they find everything they were looking for. And more. In one of the crates, buried beneath the flowers is a slip of paper with a number of occult instruments and reagents scratched onto it; it looks to have been misplaced. Spark furrows his brow. "...what's this?" Ceaseless: Int+Occult = 5 sux. You recognize these materials from scattered lessons concerning demonology - they're tools to perform an Abscissic Binding. Abscissic Bindings render the summoning and contest of wills easier by making some concessions to demonic nature. This list, in particular, could be used to give a demon the mindset of The Warden - a bodyguard and protector. Little Black Book Many eyes make light work of the encoded document, and within the hour, the last of the booklet has been translated. Damnation and Never: "Last known owner of the text in question: Wesley Merrin (Subject A). Subject believed to have sold the volume to a representative of the Denzik Merchant Association for fifteen (15) talents of silver; recipient of the book currently unknown. Subject A accompanied by his wife, the No Moon Lunar Safe In My Shadow (Lyla Merrin, Subject B), there to represent the senior No Moon, Crystal-Within-Stone, in a dispute with individuals within the Western Silver Pact." "Following conclusion of the transaction, Subject A accosted by Subject D (Day Caste Abyssal, identity and allegiance unknown), in turn pursued by Implacable Guileful Hunter (No Moon Lunar, age unknown, Subject C). Chase between all parties ensued, ended inconclusively when Subject D abandoned Subject A and fled; Subject B broke off pursuit, while Subject C abruptly disappeared and hid himself by stepping outside of Fate. Subject A believed to have conversed with and possibly been interrogated by Subject D, And on the very last page, a bombshell. Damnation and Never: "Contact provided coordinates and details of one-half of gate spell. At the appointed time during Calibration, cast the spell; aftermath of casting problematic in multiple regards, still engaged in containment. Despite extensive leverage of favors within Bureau, identity of the turncoat within the Deathlords' ranks as yet unknown. Summoning rite proved helpful, but uninformative in this particular regard; subject's proficiency with identity-concealing magics rivals or exceeds our own. Have ruled out two suspects, denoted in the attached list. "In any event, confirmed that the return of Olv-Kai-D'nah is imminent. Disturbingly, unknown Deathlord fully aware of past failures with Project Evergreen; filled in missing details and more. Motive for cooperation unknown, but all intelligence garnered has been independently corroborated. Cannot allow any non-Sidereal to take possession of Olv-Kai-D'nah; estimated that infestation rates required to seize and hold it will exceed 80% of the Realm's Terrestrial population. Forced cessation of impending civil war a pleasant fringe benefit." Damnation: Jarviksen's book is a vast compendium of the life and adventures of the mythic sailor, Darius Xoxen. Strange and surreal, the timeline spans some three hundred years during the Shogunate period, and despite its (allegedly) fictitious nature, was regarded as the seminal dialogue on all things naval. Following the Balorian Crusade and the rise of the Immaculate Order, suspicions arose that Jarviksen and Xoxen were one and the same, and an Anathema. The volume itself was deemed heretical and purged, although many of the teachings on naval doctrine in the later Thousand Correct Actions of the Upright Soldier are remarkably similar (although it would be quite unwise to so remark within earshot of the Order). A surviving copy would now be largely valuable as a collector's item, but the price it might fetch is staggering.
|
|
#
?
Mar 23, 2013 20:00
|
|
|
Watcher at the Gates of Sorrow It was time to check up on the others--who knows what mischief they had gotten into while he had been busy ensuring that the circle was safe? Watcher finds a small fishing sloop, empowering it to skim the waves with the currents of the Underworld behind it. He relatively quickly circles around the island, deciding from the faint view of smoke in the distance that nothing would be lost from having some extra firepower at their ready disposal. Soon, he is seen at the head of their small fleet, stopping in the center of the harbor still far from the docks--no reason not to be careful. Besides, most of the firepower on the Revelation could reach the distance and provide support from there. As Watcher reaches the docks on his sloop, he stalks over to the others, scowling as he notices the plantmen still alive. "What in the Void have you been doing over here? I thought the once was a fluke, but every time I turn around you've befriended some new monstrosity. At this rate, by next week I expect there to be unicorns or somesuch prancing around, eagerly announcing their friendship."
|
|
#
?
Mar 24, 2013 01:27
|
|
|
Last Damnation of Atlantis - Villa with Never Damnation spends minutes staring at Never silently, a grim look on his face. "You realize the evidence here could go either way, sister." He chuckles darkly, almost breaking the tension. "But you're not LOYAL enough to Lover to be trusted with something like this. You fly where you want, kiss who you want, you've been drunk with me too many times to hide something like this, and you know what? I think you care too much about your shipmates and your allies to sell us all up the river. In fact, I don't think Lover has the cojones to try to pull something like this off. I trust you." "Mask does. I have too much faith in him to believe he's involved, but from your perspective, he might be. So, how do you know I'm not involved? I suppose you can't. But I tend to reveal the truth at exactly the right moment in order to get people to trust me, and I'm a terrible liar. Plus, everyone knows I'm dying to get promoted and jealous that I'm not a captain and don't have secret orders. It's plain on my face. Even if Mask is the snitch, he would and has left me out." "You'll have to trust me, Never. Anyway, I think it might be wise-" "To figure out who else we can bring into the fold. Onyx is the obvious choice. She serves the Bishop, so we know she isn't working in service to the turncoat Deathlord. She's also a brilliant spy and I have no doubt she'll find us something useful. poo poo, maybe she already has a piece of the puzzle but hasn't figured out what to do with it. I will talk to her as soon as possible unless you have any objections." "Secondly, Watcher has been the only one adamant that we capture Cleansing Tide. He has also said destroying the circle is not an option and no one should touch it. I think I know why this is. I think that his Deathlord, Walker in the Wastes, is trying to gather enough evidence to pinpoint the turncoat Deathlord among their ranks, and that those are his secret orders we've all been wondering about." "I think all the data is connected. The Deathlord traitor was giving intelligence to Yu-Shan. Tide summoned him to this location to figure out his identity, but he couldn't figure out who it was due to identity-conealing magics, like the text mentioned. This Deathlord is party to the scheme to resurrect Olkaida. I think Watcher and Butterfly know that a Deathlord was summoned and Watcher may even be suspicious of a traitor within our ranks. If anyone damaged or destroyed evidence, that would cast suspicion on themselves as a traitor. Watcher was trying to protect us." Damnation lets out a deep breath, feeling a bit more relaxed now that the pieces fit together. "So this is my plan of action, Never." Original Invigilators, Party to all Information: Spymaster-General Never Within Reach, Day Caste General-Pirate-Bastard Last Damnation of Atlantis, Dusk Caste Deputy Spymaster: Daughter of Onyx and Silver, Day Caste To be told there is a traitorous Deathlord who is neither The Bishop nor The Silver Prince and that Tide must be captured as evidence. Asked to look out for any valuable information on the matter and bring it directly to us. Occult Specialist: Watcher at the Gates of Sorrow, Daybreak Caste Has information we may not have yet acquired and capabilities we lack. Must be brought on board, told about any supernatural evidence and the fact that a turncoat Deathlord has been giving information to Yu-Shan. Is terrified of violating his secret orders. Actions based on those secret orders suggest Walker In The Wastes is not a turncoat. Can be trusted. All other Abyssals on the island of Petraya are suspect and should not be given information that there is a turncoat Deathlord at this time. Damnation - Outside the Villa, Bumping into People. Damnation pulls out a match. "If you object, say something." As the paper burns, he scribbles a brief note on another piece of paper and uses the first to light a cigar. He walks out of the villa jauntily humming a pirate tune. Finally, he was the one with every piece of the puzzle. He strides out to see Wyrm, bumping into Onyx, who gets a brief high-five on the way. Note to Onyx posted:Never and I have discovered that one of the Deathlords has turned Realm's evidence and has been providing intelligence to "Cleansing Tide" or his superiors. Cleansing Tide's is a Sidereal operating out of Yu-Shan. He has valuable information regarding traitors in our ranks and plots that go beyond this island, including trying to spread the plant disease throughout all of Creation in order to organize the entire Dragonblooded Host into a single army under Sidereal command. Obviously the plant disease must be contained. A Pittance For The Wyrm to Devour Next, he pulls aside Wyrm, still puffing on the cigar. "Never Within Reach and I have recovered valuable intelligence. "Cleansing Tide" is a Sidereal Agent of Fate, and that isn't his real name. He has plans to infect all of Creation with the plant virus to use for a Sidereal-controlled military operation. It's not just about Skullstone and it's not just about these islands. He wants all the Dragon-blooded. The purple strain must not be allowed to leave the island. Furthermore, I reiterate Watcher's statement that he must be taken alive. A plan like this must be bigger than he is, and I think he's working for bigger power-players. We need his intel." "Also, another thing, Wyrm. There's a Circle in the northeast portion of the Island. If Tide gets his back against the wall, he may try to reach it or send one of his high-ranking retainers there. That cannot be allowed to happen. The possibilities, if the wrong person were to reach it, are beyond my ability to imagine or explain." "But, in better news, I've been thinking about this Volcano..." Channel Valor for Volcano Knowledge: 5d10x7 2 "It's more of a long term proposition, as far as I can tell. If we supercharge it with energy from one of the five elements, then we can have an elemental of that element take it over. It won't get full control, though, until we re-engineer the manse to suit the new elemental. We may have even better options, but I'd need to inspect the manse firsthand. Actually, I'd probably need someone smarter to inspect the manse firsthand. I will speak to Butterfly about this." Captain And First Mate Reunite With a polite nod to Wyrm, Damnation exits the Warehouse and is stunned to see Watcher standing in front of him, yelling at someone, as usual. "Ah, Captain, it's been so little time, yet we have so much to discuss. Come, sit down with me." Damnation speedily herds Watcher into the abandoned ship Never had investigated earlier so they could speak in private. "I think I know all about you, Watcher at the Gates of Sorrow. It was never really about the plants for you. You've been looking for evidence. 'Don't touch the circle, Damnation!' Why not? Because it's evidence, and if I had tampered with it, I would have implicated myself as a traitor. You said it was for my protection. I think you were telling the truth. 'Cleansing Tide is to be taken alive!' That's because he's evidence as well, isn't he? Tide is working with a traitor, and you need evidence to determine who that traitor is. You've been protecting that evidence. That means I suspect you are not a traitor. Stop me if I'm wrong." Watcher reluctantly follows, his face a blank mask as he desperately tries to determine what this is all about and whether he needs to put down his first officer. It is as if Watcher's face thaws when he hears this last--they were not out of the woods yet, but at least they could talk openly. "Evidence, yes. And a traitor. And while I have indeed shown by my actions that I am likely not that traitor...what have you done? How can you convince me?" And The Big Reveal Damnation is taken aback a bit. "I can tell you what I've discovered. The traitor, the greatest traitor, is a Deathlord. This unknown Deathlord has been passing information to 'Cleansing Tide,' though that's not his real name, and almost certainly other powerful individuals in Yu-Shan. They have been using this information and it has delivered for them. It's not clear what this Deathlord wants, but it may involve wanting a piece of the scheme to resurrect the lost utopia of Olv-Kai-D'nah. Tide has confirmed this Utopia is coming back and he's planning to infect at least 80% of the Terrestrial Host to turn them into an army capable of holding it for the Sidereals. That's his endgame, using the entire population of Terrestrials to seize the lost Utopia." "Now, let me tell you about what you discovered. Tide and one other person cast a Gate spell last Calibration. This was almost certainly done to summon their Deathlord informant. I say they had enough information about their unknown partner to summon him. However, the Deathlord used magic to conceal his or her identity, so Yu-Shan still doesn't know who it is that's helping them. They have, though, ruled out two possible candidates: The Bishop and The Silver Prince. This means Lovers, Mask, and Walker would still all be suspects, but I think Walker is a loyalist because of what I presume are the secret orders he gave you. Yu-Shan is still trying to figure out just who is passing them information." Watcher nods, playing along for now. "And I can tell you that the circle is where said Deathlord did in fact punch through to Creation. I hold my suspicions of Walker, still, but the rule-out of the two helps. I presume you understand now why all the secrecy?" Catching himself, the old man shakes his head. Bad habit--there's no need for secrecy here. He gives a wry chuckle, laughing at himself, and looks up at Damnation. "Who do you think the helper is? I know our crewmates are skilled, but not even Butterfly seems capable of helping in a substantive way. Could it be one of the Solars on the ship? A Lunar sneaking about? I don't think it's a Sidereal, if just because Tide has most of that covered. "Yes. For one, if we told everyone, infighting might prevent us from recovering the necessary evidence and stopping the blight. Even if these plants seem like a nuisance when there is a traitor among the Deathlords, it is never wise to ignore the knife at one's throat for the one at one's back. I am committed to both outing the traitor and ending the blight. Secondly, if one of our group is involved in traitorous activities and they discovered we knew something, well, you can make the inferences yourself." So what can we infer? "As for the helper, Tide's intelligence mentions some Lunars, particularly one No Moon Caste named Implacable Guileful Hunter, but I don't know if that individual is involved with Tide or working for someone else. I do know that the intelligence I found was intended for someone referred to only as L who was expected to be able to readily kill everyone on this ship who was not infected with the purple strain of the plants. I do not think L is the same person who cast the spell with Tide. Damnation's mind races back to what he read before. "Wait-I didn't understand-but it's clear now. The Deathlord or someone working for him TOLD Cleansing Tide where a Gate capable of the summoning had been half-cast, half-finished, and Tide finished it during Calibration. There didn't need to be a helper there with him, because the gate had been prepared beforehand at some time in the past. Who knows how long ago." Watcher slams a fist into a nearby bulkhead. "So while there is a Lunar poking around, the person with the necromancy needed for all this could be well anywhere--we need to ask Bolt if the Twilight or another in the Solar circle could have managed that. Should have long ago, when we first saw that amulet. I will take a closer look and see if there are any hints in its workmanship that might tie it to any of the players--in the meantime, if the Silver Prince is ruled out, what are your thoughts in asking for some extra backup, or at least some extra equipment?" Damnation nods. "We do, we do need to ask Bolt about the Solars. But remember, the placing of the first half of the gate was done either by or at the behest of a Deathlord. It was the Deathlord who gave the location and description of the gate to Cleansing Tide. If the Deathlord didn't do it himself, I am almost certain it was done at the Deathlord's behest." Watcher replies, "...and the Solars were not turned until later in the timeline. Good catch. So there is most likely a powerful Abyssal on the loose, or some other powerful servant of the Deathlord." Damnation responds, "That is my first guess. A very powerful Abyssal or maybe a Hecatoncheires? More backup and equipment would be good after this mission. Tide mentioned that his associate, the unknown L, needs to buy a book at the merchant flotilla of Denzik. L won't be receiving the message to buy the book because I received it instead. I will buy the book. We will read it. I believe it has information relevant to this Olkaida business." And Then They Made A Plan The admiral smiles savagely. "Yes, that would do nicely. Denzik, you say?" He begins doing some rough calculations on a scrap of parchment, swears, and throws it aside. He tears the small room they are in apart, finally locating some sea-charts and manifest logs. He begins scribbling furiously on them, but finds they are not enough. The first mate raises an eyebrow and waits. He makes a high-pitched whistling sound, and soon the chittering of a skeletal monkey can be faintly heard. A few barked orders later, and varied pieces of parchment begin to slide underneath the door; Damnation recognizes some from their own ship, but many are foreign--zombies must be combing every ship in the harbor and ransacking their documents. "Er, Captain? Are we looking for something?" Watcher begins to sweat inky-black droplets as his caste mark begins to glow, but mere seconds after a final chart is plastered on the only remaining part of the floor, walls, or ceiling, he snaps his fingers. "It's close by--if we are lucky, and if speculation on Northern feathersteel remained high this last month--none of the information I could find would say--it's still around the Neck. And if I command the Envoy, we can cover a reasonable search pattern that should find it in a day or two." He parts his lips, showing his teeth. "That means we could possess the book before we make our final assault, most likely." Damnation raises an eyebrow, continuing to puff on his fat cigar while staring at the map. "Do you want to do it now? I can think of several other important projects to give the others. Someone needs to clean up and search the entire area. Someone needs to go with Bolt to get me source of loyal fire elementals. Someone needs to examine the inner workings of the manse from underground, and someone needs to delay the Realm fleet. They could be here in two days. Should we propose a division of labor to the group?" "I think it would be a good idea, yes--we need to know as much as possible before we go ahead with all of this. As for the other tasks...we only have a week before Tide plans on going 'public' with all this. I propose that the Realm fleet might be sidetracked, if we need it to be, by informing them of Tide's timeline and having them form a larger blockade and searching out all of the ships that have left Petraya since the purple strain was developed, to make sure that in a week's time horrors do not erupt on a hundred islands. Otherwise we might have the apparently...friendly?...strains--I still don't know how you all managed that--go underground and allow the Realm fleet to simply invade. If, that is, there is a way of ensuring that they will not themselves become infected. Again, the truth seems to work well. If we can make them loathe to send units on land for fear of infection...." Watcher paces. "But we may let that be decided by the others--Wyrm especially gets touchy when ordered around. I believe that some of the others would enjoy doing the other tasks, and I am uniquely qualified to look for the floating city--so yes, a division of labor would be excellent." "It's simple, Watcher. I yelled at a horde of plant-men into their Hive-mind that Tide was trying to trick us, the Anathema, into exterminating everything that wasn't his precious purple strain. They were smart enough to realize I was telling the truth, and they decided to become oathbound. But he's going PUBLIC!? gently caress me with a cutlass. I was thinking we would use inclement weather to slow the realm ships down, but maybe convincing them is a better idea. If they blockade the island, though, we may have to shoot our way out. Iselsi, for lack of a better word, is kind of a bitch. Anyway, let's go speak with the others and talk about who's doing what and how to handle the realm ships. It's best that everyone get started immediately." Back Into The Fold Watcher chuckles darkly. "I have some tricks up my sleeve to let us slip in and out if it comes to that. But yes, let us bring this discussion into the open." With that, Watcher strides out the door, careful not to step on the essential parts of the charts and maps strewn on the floor. Damnation nods quietly and follows behind. He shouts back to Wyrm, "It's time to bring everyone together for a big meeting. There are new tasks to be done. I need Bolt and an entourage to bring back fire elementals. I need someone to inspect the inner workings of the manse using underground passages. Obviously, the area still needs to be cleaned out, preferably by someone like Onyx who will notice the little things that matter. We need to link up with Butterfly as well! It's two days before the Realm fleet arrives, people! We've got to get poo poo underway!" For Never Watcher and I discussed a few things. I'll be keeping you in the loop, like I promised. Damnation relays the conversation with Watcher to Never telepathically. WP 8/10, VC 3/5 MiltonSlavemasta fucked around with this message at 15:25 on Mar 24, 2013 |
|
#
?
Mar 24, 2013 02:42
|
|
|
Blighted Jackal Face Master Do the undead dream? If so, what kind of dreams and nightmares had Jackal as he spent an entire day on the border between delirium and reality? Memories of his life before death and exaltation, of being forced to scavenge the streets for food, being beaten by older kids, by the men whom he stole to survive, from the guards whenever he tried to take a loaf of bread to eat. He remembered the indignity, humiliation and disgust from it all, the envy he felt from the rich tradesmen of Port Calin and their families, the hatred for the authorities that led him to start his small gang and the pain he felt when the noose broke his neck. And then Jackal remembered he had not had revenge on his executioners and neither burned that city to the ground, and that is something that needed to be rectified. That's when he woke up... To find out he was bound and that there's only darkness around. "What a revolting development! How DARE they put I, Jackal on the bloody cargo hold? To think that my magnanimous proposal to give support to them was treated with such disrespect... Bah! This will not do at all! Perhaps I, Jackal, shall leave the fools to be killed by the traitorous plants and then take their ship with me." He says while giving a slight pause, relishing at the thought. "Yes, Captain Blighted Jackal! That would be a nice name. And my fleet would actually do some looting instead of dealing with shitholes like this. Then I, Jackal, could tell that so-called 'Lover' to bugger off, or perhaps even take her place after all the burning and killing that one could spread." He heaves and snaps the rope by opening his arms, grabbing the eyefold and taking it off with ease. "Hells, could even say to those Neverborn idiots to go bugger themselves..." He pauses for a bit, looking a bit hesitant. "But manning a ship by myself could be problematic. FOR NOW, I, JACKAL, SHALL TRY MY BEST TO KEEP THE IDIOTS ALIVE!"
|
|
#
?
Mar 24, 2013 04:08
|
|
|
Last Damnation of Atlantis - So Much Is Going On The Dread Pirate finds himself exhausted and dizzy. He's been in two battles and thought over an absurd number of battle plans in the space of just one day. He pats Wyrm on the shoulder. "God drat, I think I actually need a nap. Can you organize everyone into one big meeting as soon as possible? Even Butterfly. Especially Butterfly. We can have a blasted tea party if that's what it takes, but we need to figure out what everyone's doing before it's too late. Tide plans to go live with this poo poo in seven days and the Realm's fleet will be here in two. We have to prevent both of these things. In order to get everything done in time, we will all have to coordinate our actions perfectly in the next few days." Stumbling and breathing heavily, Damnation drops his cigar. Spark comes to his side. "Uh, guy, are you doing alright?" The pirate nods immediately and makes some gruff noise to reassure the thunderbird, then remembers he needs to tell him something. "I need you to get in contact with Butterfly. We need a meeting as soon as possible with everyone. If she's in the middle of something, it can wait, but it has to happen tonight. I don't think we can get everyone up there in a timely manner, so I suspect she'll have to come down here. And she'll need to bring Happy Fandango from up there." Damnation stumbles in place. "And make sure someone wakes me up before the meeting." Appearing to be drunk, he meanders back into the Villa and passes out in one of the beds. However, even in sleep, it seemed the events of the day would still hound him. When Damnation goes to bed, he spends a Willpower Point to have a Vision. He asks them: "How will Olv-Kai-D'nah return? Do you want me to stop it?" That's not the vision I was promised!: 5d10x7 2+1=3 Spending another WP on vision. Intimacies: Never Within Reach (Trust), Watcher At The Gate Of Sorrows (Loyalty), The Everlasting Butterfly of the Decadent Garden (Awe), Thunderbirds (Friendship), Spawn of the Devouring Wyrm (Friendly Rivalry), The Waves, Ceaseless and Unending, Devour the Shore (Friendship), Daughter of Onyx and Silver (Respect), 'Cleansing Tide' (I Will Break You) Lost Intimacy: The Guild. Damnation is no longer concerned with The Guild. Integrity 1-> 3 4xp War 3->4 5xp Perform 1->2 1xp PAST LIVES 0->3 9xp Convict 2->4 8xp Savage Shade Style 8xp Ever-Ready Killer's Tools 8xp Ash Child's Requiem 8xp Cowardice-Annihilating Aura (Milton Charm) 8xp WP: 6/10 MiltonSlavemasta fucked around with this message at 15:16 on Mar 26, 2013 |
|
#
?
Mar 24, 2013 07:41
|
|
|
Never Within Reach -The Villa of Doubt Never paced back and forth in her room long enough to leave track marks in the rug. She’d let her wings lapse back into their natural state, a deep purple cloak. They would not be needed for the rest of the night and she knew she needed to rest. Fat chance of that. Damnation’s words were as troubling as his trust. She did not believe him to be involved in whatever mad plot the renegade Deathlord was cooking up. Damnation was too straightforward for that, which was one of the main reasons she’d asked for his help. But knowing the true text of the note filled her with a cold dread. She was involved in whatever this scheme was. That was certain. On what side, it was not yet clear. That she had been sent after the book was something she had no doubts about. But why? To gain it for the traitor? Or to keep it from his hands? Whatever the reason, she’d failed to retrieve it on the first try, and apparently been ordered to let it go after it passed into the West. She stopped in front of the desk, looking at the ink portraits. “I bet you know what happened.” she said, running her fingers over the first picture of the man with glasses. But four Solars and three Lunars… even Cleansing Tide- who’d been ballsy enough to summon up a Deathlord!- had marked him off limits. She cursed under her breath. That road was closed, at least for now. What she had to do was clear. The memory stones… She’d left the one she knew about alone, planning to pick up the trail after Petraya was secured. But if Lordsmeet was their best hope of finding willing fire elementals, there was no reason to put it off any longer. Her hands shook, and she realized with a shock that she was afraid. What the stone showed her could change everything. Damnation's grin haunted her. “You fly where you want, kiss who you want, you've been drunk with me too many times to hide something like this, and you know what? I think you care too much about your shipmates and your allies to sell us all up the river.” “Do I? You loving bastard.” She kicked over a chair. “How should I know! Don’t make me out to be everyone’s friend when I could be…” Is there a more perfect disguise? One that could fool even a Moonshadow’s oath? She sat down and held her head in her hands. “I don’t want to be… I want to stay Never… I like Never…” Something sharp poked her in the side and she reached into her coat to find Bolt’s arrow. The one they’d made together. It was still warm, still carrying that faint spark. She hadn't let it fade away in all this time. Damnation was right. If caring made her weak, so be it. She was happier now on the Envoy than she'd ever been. She had a place here, a purpose, allies and friends. She wouldn't let whatever happened before take that from her now. “I don’t care what she did. This is my life now. Not hers.” She wiped an angry tear away and hoped that believing made it so. “I can make it up to them… I’ll fix things, I promise. And I’ll stay Never.” For as long as I can.
|
|
#
?
Mar 24, 2013 10:13
|
|
|
Spawn of the Devouring Wyrm - Information Wyrm reclines in her saddle, staring into the middle-distance as Damnation gives his report. When he’s finished, she softly reviews under a lack of breath, “Tide is more than terrestrial, Tide must be brought down, Disease must be contained and purged.” She whips her head back a bit too far, rolling her eyes, “Such news.” Snapping back, she locks firm on the pirate, “Damnation, It’s beyond your ability to imagine cold soup. If you value your intelligence, invest it and don’t speak till it pays off.” Damnation rolls his eyes at the captain. “Wyrm, if that is all I told you, it is because that is all you need to know at this time. Carry on. We will discuss more things at the big meeting” Reassurance - Battlefield Once each has cooled enough to make it safe, Rose and Auling put some distance between themselves and the battlefield. Behind them, a thunderbird pulls aside the newly exalted woodbloods before the mob descends upon the fallen sailors. Each body left to them is looted, desecrated, and cast onto the pyre. Between them, they carry Sesus Okove away from this grisly fate. Rose sees all of this. Rose sees none of it. In between his moments of nervously supervising the cleanup, Auling spares a glance at the fireblood and notes that she isn’t her usual chipper self. On one hand, she needs help. On the other, Wyrms said... He looks back at the thunderbird. Herald waves and gives him a look that says, I’ve got this. Auling breaks away from the mob and shuffles up to Rose. Her arms are blood from hand to elbow; her face is an ivory mask. “Rose. Rose! It’s okay, it’s over, we won!” It’s a fair few minutes before she registers his presence through the fugue of fatigue and white noise. “Yes,” she answers listlessly. “We did, didn’t we.” As if in reply, steps approach. Nothing dares intrude upon the path of the slow, funeral march of the Captain’s steed as she leaves the warehouse. She looks only briefly to Poem, to see the sorting of the crows already underway, then devotes her attention to the pair. She rides to Rose’s side, slide back in her saddle and extends a cold, dead, hand. “Rose,” It is enough. No other words are. Death waits with open arms. Rose takes the hand. Her gait is steady, but her grip is like a vise. Wyrm meets force with softness. A gentle tug draw the shaken nun close to her side and invites her up into the saddle. She takes her place by the captain and rides with her in silence. As they move beyond the edge of the city Wyrm slides closer, holds her passenger tighter. She draws Rose into her arms. Wyrm ends her day as it began, in song. Mobilization - Seaside Vila With Herald left breathless, Wyrm finds the strength to start getting her organs back in line. She stands on a balcony overlooking the beach. The night is young, but she is weary from day’s events. Even her undying flesh would be sore for some time after adding so many new holes. Mostly back in uniform, she tests the limits of her motion as she massages each fresh wound. Her full armour had played a vital part in keep her intact, in securing victory, but the suit resisted her actions to an unacceptable degree. Nice as it was to laugh in the face of the very force which struck her dead, it remained preferable to not be shot at all. She recalls the worried nagging of a certain mortician back in Thorns. By now, the dear Embalms the Mayflies’ Majesty may well have finished all the stitching, smithing, and fine engraving of her alternative to, “Zat dreadful ‘usk zese ‘ordes of dead barbarians mistake for ‘Artifice’.” It would not surprise her in the slightest if the maker of Wyrm’s current armour wound up a key component of her next set. But tonight she a mission, far grander than she’d thought when she set out. For that, she finer suit wear, a swifter steed to ride, and a bigger bow to smite her enemies. Time to dress for victory. Herald is quick on the recovery and doubly so in flight. They cross the isle, breach the foliage, and dive onto the deck. Crew scatter into formation and give their best panicked salutes to their returning lord. In response, the engines grind to action. The pulse of the Envoy’s heart resounds through all its halls once more as Wyrm strikes to the command deck and retakes her rightful place. With a swipe of her hand, the resident spirit fades into view. “Report.” “Nothing of military interest, captain. Other than that, an ongoing game of cards whose consequences may spiral out of control if left unattended.” At her bidding, he continues, “It seems the thunderbird is currently owed much by Ledaal Loren and Ragara Kaida; to be more specific, she has won all their worldly possessions and their very souls. Peleps Tzorik is attempting to undo this; I can tell you now that he will fail if she calls his bluff.” Wyrm calls it first. Envoy carries her voice to where it’s needed. “Now hear this, all shipboard recreation is immediately and hereby suspended. Civilian Consultants Ledaal and Ragara are to report immediately to a briefing on Stygian gambling law. That is all. So speaks the void.” They hasten to attend. They are followed by Blood-On-The-Wind, who looks very much like the...canary that swallowed the cat, perhaps? Some metaphors don’t translate well. They arrive precisely as late as Wyrm intended. She relaxes in her chair reciting legal codes of the undying. They enter as she reaches the important parts of laws concerning the punishment for fraud, of the form of claiming false ownership of properties for the purposes of issue or payment of debt, and gambling. They are far from pleasant. It’s easy to see how Blood managed her win; her face is impassive, almost bored, and completely unreadable. “Very interesting, but one will note that a captain is only entitled to dominion over the souls of her crew; passengers and civilian contractors are their own entities. These two have pledged you nothing. Their lives are theirs, to win...” She licks her lips in a way that might have been inviting if it weren’t flatly terrifying. “...or lose.” The two terrestrials look at Wyrm. Then at each other. Then at Blood. They fall to their knees. “We’re enlisting!” Loren shouts. “Sign us up, tell us where to go, just don’t let her eat us!” “Such enthusiasm for civil service! And they say this generation has no values,” Wyrm is positively purring with amusement, “Well then, how could I not? By the authority vested in me by the Crown of Stygia, Dual-King of Human Heart and Mind, Eternal Guardian of the Void, Keeper of Undying Souls and Protector of the Realm Memorial, Passed down through the Lords Of Death until the End of Days,” She’d had ample practice fitting all that into one breath, “I, Spawn of Wyrms, Knight of Death, Undying Vassal of the Winter Army do on this hallowed night...” With the ship already on course Wyrm has little reason not to savour the long road through this particular ceremony. “...bestow on those afore-named, the rank of Officer Cadet.” Her only regret, is that the last bit requires that she stand. “Now rise, and rise again, to be reborn as servants of the Realm Memorial. So speaks The Void.” The full extent of the field commission left ample time for the crew to retrieve and present new uniforms. Throughout the proceedings, Blood’s face is a mask of cold fury...but in a rare moment of eye contact, a knowing wink is passed. At last, the two newest crew return to the laboratory on Deck 4, this time reporting for duty; the others all return to their own labors. Only Wyrm and Blood remain. The elemental yawns, and stretches. “And that’s that.” She approaches the captain, looking her over. Her eye stops at shoulder level. “You know, there are some things best left unspoken; a pity indeed that they need be said at all.” Blood reaches and plucks a single luff of ivory down from the captain’s hair. Thoughtfully, she turns it over. “I can’t look out for him forever, but do take note: hurt my little brother, and all the guns in this world and the next won’t save you.” No malice. No threat. Purely business. “I expect no less.” Business is good. Winter, Unmasked - ??? It is dark where Sesus Okove awakes. The air’s a little damp and a little warm. He’s laying somewhere soft. A voice not quite as he recalls it greets him. “Fear not. We are alone, and you are safe. You will remain safe, so long as you cooperate. Do you understand?” The fireblood’s movements are uneven, his voice slurred. “...yes.” “Good.” The voice is close, but not too close, low to the ground. Perhaps someone seated across a small room. “Tell me, Sesus, how do you feel?” He looks about, squinting as he tries to come up with words for the sensation. “Missing,” he answers at last. “Dizzy, and tired too, but mostly...as if something important is missing.” Okove shakes his head, then immediately regrets it. “I had the strangest dream...” “Of a little blue blossom, that loved you like a son?” Something about it just sounds off, it doesn’t feel right, “What you feel will pass. You may not like what it leaves behind. What do you recall of the past three months?” Sad News for Blue Flowers - Envoy Medical Bay, Operating Theatre On Wyrm’s order, the Blue officer was hauled up from its watery prison to a secure location. The table is set for three, and the doctor stands ready to revive their guest of honour. Butterfly had her zombies carry the orchidman to her lab, and strapped the man, suit and all, on her operating table. Once the specimen was secure, she carefully cut a hole on the side of the suit to begin draining out the water. The seawater within the suit was contaminated by the orchid, so she was going to have to dump it back into the sea. Once most of the water was drained, she gave the suit a little shake. “Wakey wakey!” Wyrm stands some distance from the table. She keeps a clear view of it, gives it a clear view of her, and should it be needed leaves space to draw and fire. This is a complex and delicate situation. She must keep her options open. How this unfolds will all depend on how the officer reacts. The plant’s fate is in its own hands. Ashore, its other bodies are restrained, imprisoned, and under guard. Wyrm doubts they’ll raise a fuss. This could go a lot of ways. Congratulations - Jiankang, Holding Cell Of the things to come of the last night’s fighting, these were perhaps the least expected and perhaps the most intriguing to Wyrm. Tucked away in all her ranting on the battlefield were seeds of honest admiration for the rarity of the event. Shuttled to safety from the aftermath of the battle, the four new Woodbloods were allowed the chance to rest. Wyrm watches as they wake. Their eyes quickly move to her. “Good morning, saplings.” That anything about Wyrm could be called ‘sobering’ is a sign of how strange the time had become, “Yes, that happened, and now it’s over, and now all of you are brothers. And I do wish you well in your rebirth, however long your new lives last I trust you’ll use them well.” One of the Tya, whose chest still bears the mark of Wyrm’s arrow, makes efforts in the general direction of attempting to stand. He ultimately settles on a dignified slouch against the cell wall. “Methinks there’s a story worth hearing we’ve missed.” He rests his palm against a crack in the wall; tiny shoots of flowers begin to sprout from the fissure. “Don’t recall being part o’ Her Redness’ fief when we put into port.” His eyes are narrow and catlike. “Daii Kulchiss. And you’d be...?” “Your savior.” Daii’s reaction holds sufficient promise for Wyrm to take this casually, “There’s a good lad, you’ll be back on your feet soon enough. You got a bit too friendly with the local foliage and I cut you out of it. And it left a little gift behind. Are you familiar with eastern blight called Chakra Orchid?” Having found his legs once more, Daii pulls upright. “Tales o’ tales. Flowers grow in a man’s head ‘til it’s all flower an’ no head, yes? But it walks an’ talks like a human?” “Yes, those. You each had the poor fortune to meet a cousin of its, and the good fortune to come sort of equal parts man and flower, as it were.” They’re getting the point, and the point is serious, “Your luck ends there. You are in a war zone, you were used in battle and survived. By necessity of the situation you are, at this time, my prisoners.” She leaves a bit of time for Daii to take this in, “You will soon have the chance to change this, if you are willing.” Daii takes a moment to spare a glance at the others, then turns back to Wyrm. “T’ain’t the first time shore leave’s turned into a pressgang. Wager it ain’t theirs, neither.” He feels at his hip for an absent cutlass. “If there be a war, I’m guessing there be someone to answer for all this, ya?” “Naturally.” She looks over the others, “After what you have endured, I will understand if any of them would prefer not to face him, and I will let them leave. Though I must warn that there are others who would hunt them down, I cannot guarantee their safety. Those who would stand and fight will do so under my banner, find vengeance, and receive due reward for their service.” “An’ which banner might that be?” Wyrm bares her fangs, “Death.” Assembly - Jiankang, Harbour At dawn, the low silhouette of the Envoy of Eternal Peace looms outside the harbour. The little launch which came day before returns to a very different welcome. Poem reports the well-ordered nature of the arrangements thus far made. The agenda for the last day’s aftermath and the invoice for its plunder await the captain’s perusal. Wyrm is visibly displeased that she must, once again, conduct important business beneath the morning sun. A few items of interest, wisely placed early in the report, do much to aid her mood. Wyrm is quite relaxed and businesslike by the time she reaches the designated meeting site. There’s a smile on her face, a sheaf of paper in one hand and a steaming mug of coffee in the other. “So,” She takes a good, stiff drink, “Busy day we had there.” A_Raving_Loon fucked around with this message at 01:57 on Mar 26, 2013 |
|
#
?
Mar 26, 2013 01:50
|
|
|
Never Within Reach - Envoy of Eternal Peace, En route to harbour Outside a Captain’s door a loyal officer waits. Presence already felt, no knock is needed. A door swings open of its own accord. “Damnation sought you out last night, I hear.” Clipped wings trail behind, and the Spymaster seems smaller without them. Wyrm sits before a bandolier of flame pieces, going through the motions of cleaning and maintaining each gun, “Yes, I’ve met the bearer of empty news. Don’t suppose he’s made any progress on his report on if the sea is wet?” Never smirks. “I would have told him not to bother, if he’d asked me. There is a talent to sharing what’s needful.” The smile fades. “Which is why you have me. I won’t tell you what you already know, or what you shouldn’t until the time comes to act on it. But there is something...” She pauses, falters. “Do you trust me, Captain?” Wyrm lets the weapon’s hammer fall and lays it on the desk. “Yes.” Relief? Or concern... “It all connects back to Olkaida. The purple strain were an army in the birthing, a way to take the new land by force after it’s summoned from the depths. The identity of that summoner we don’t yet know, but there are... hints... that it may be someone in our own power structure.” Wyrm cracks a wicked grin as her one little clue resurfaces, “Immediate or distant?” “How long would it have taken to force the orchid down the Realm’s throats? There is some time yet, I think. If the plan was to sow the seeds within the week, we have at least that and potentially far longer.” “I meant the traitor,” Wyrm picks up another gun and resumes cleaning, “ And we won’t give them that week.” “You didn’t hear that word from me.” Never’s smile returns. “But signs point up the chain a link, if you take my meaning. It may extend down the chain as well. Captain, I...” A final pause, then resolution. “I may not be wholly innocent in this. There is a gap of a year’s time, stolen from my memory. If I was involved, I have no knowledge and will swear it on your anima. But trust must be tempered with truth. I would not have you learn that fact from another.” “I’d believe it from no one else. And as for swearing on me,” Wyrm taps her forehead with her thumb, “you know much kick it take to sign those damned things?” Never laughs. “I suppose it does.” Report given, the officer turns to leave. She stops at the door. “Twice, I have served, and twice been betrayed. I’ll cast the dice a third time.” She slips beyond, down the hall and onto the deck. A lighter heart takes wing than the one that arrived only an hour before. --- Matters of Faith - Jiankang, Other Holding Cell For the four new Terrestrials in the cell across the street, morning brings business as usual. Bizarre and terrifying, perhaps, but in the west that can hardly be called unusual. To those born to power and privilege, and trained in the ways of meditation and self-perfection, it is a rather different experience. “It’s another test,” explains Brother Pyre-of-Devils. “Has to be. Remember everything we went through during our initiations? The burnings?” He looks to the earthblood. “The crushings?” At the recovering waterblood. “The drownings? There’s a lesson in this somewhere, I’m sure.” He places his hands against the bars. “Damned if I can tell what it is, though.” “Hey!” A familiar voice echoes from down the hall, leading rapid footsteps on the sandstone tile. “You’re awake!” Rose runs to greet them, a smile on her face for the first time in a week. “Sister Sesus?” A great slab of a man rises from the groaning bench. “What’s going on here? Why are we in here? Weren’t you supposed to be in the infirmary?” She shakes her head. “That was almost five months ago.” Rose looks them over. “You...really don’t remember?” The weedy Air-Aspect gives her a bemused look. “Remember what?” “Hoo, boy...there’s a lot to explain...” Half an hour later “...so maybe some of you can leave to send warnings, but if we don’t stop Grandmaster...whatever he’s really called...there won’t be anyone to warn.” “Oh, Rose.” The fireblood shakes his head. “You do know you’re supposed to suck on the herbs, right? Not chew them?” “His name,” Wyrm stopped listening when she heard something which sounded enough like her cue. She strides in draped in something not quite as ostentatious as The Lady Unmasked Winter’s attire, but still rather distractingly festive, “is Scatters-The-Ashes, he is an agent of fate, and that time in the grand cycle of history has come around for them to reforge your blessed race into a new generation of disposable weaponry.” She settles in behind Rose, “Oh, but I’m getting ahead of myself.” She waves, “Hello! I’m Anathema!” A white shadow follows her master, leaning against a wall with a smug look of satisfaction. “The flesh remembers what the mind does not. Look to your scars.” Never points at the air aspect. “I cannot claim all the credit but you-” she touches her own shoulder. “Should have one here, where I hung you from the ceiling, and you-” The smile widens as she singles out the water aspect, “Will find four holes leading to your center. Sad, that you don’t remember how you got them.” It takes until Never finishes her gloating for any of them to get over the shock of seeing not one, but two Anathema in person. Swiftly, Pyre adopts a fighting stance - “No!” Rose shouts, “You’ll -” Then doubles over in pain. ”...pop your stitches...” “Rest assured, I do appreciate the reckless aggression, but you really should save it for another time,” Wyrm tears her eyes off vulnerable ball of pain and blood long enough to keep on topic, “Right, so, Tide - Heretic, Xulan - Monster, Both our Civilizations - In grave peril, and we all get to set aside our natural enmity long to put that back to normal.” Wyrm crouches, leaning down to get on eye level with Pyre, “I know it’s a lot to take in all at once, but it’ll get a lot easier once you remember what this means.” Her caste mark casually oozes into view. “...know what it means,” he manages through the gasps of pain. “It means you’re the enemy.” Rose clenches her fists. “Oh, for the love of - did you forget the part where there is an even bigger Anathema trying to do to the whole Realm what he did to you? Because that didn’t stop being a thing that was true!” Never laughs. “Don’t think we hold any love for the Realm. But stopping that sidereal might just make us some of the biggest drat heroes your shogunate has seen in centuries. Not that they’ll mention that in the history books. I wonder who’ll be around to take home all the credit?” “And really, shouldn’t that be a standard operating procedure? ‘hit ‘nathema with other ‘nathema, common sense really, most of us hate each other!” Wyrm easily rolls back to lean against the far wall, “If you don’t have that in a book somewhere you should.” “Who do you even think we-” “‘Evil cannot be fought with evil, for such is the way of-” ”One ‘nathema...dozen...doesn’t matter, I’ll-” “Did you just say you shot me-” “EVERYBODY SHUT THE gently caress UP!” Rose’s nostrils flare, and flames curl from her wrists. “You know when a great time to talk about theological differences is? When the entire loving world is not in danger! You want to fight? Fine. But anyone who tries to start something now is getting punched in the dick.” She looks to Wyrm and Never. “...or something, but I can guarantee it’ll hurt.” “There’s no need to start something, we’ve already fought.” Never looks between the bars at the captured Immaculates. “And I think it’s clear to everyone here who won.” As fun as it’s been, Wyrm’s time for play is up. “You have a choice - Stay and fight to save your race, or run as far you think you’ll get before Ashes scatters you. You will not stand in my way.” As is the wont of the true believers, the discussion continues in this vein for some time. The same points are argued and debated and picked over until raw and bleeding, but no amount of rationalization can pull them from the inevitable conclusion: now is not the time to be picky. mistaya fucked around with this message at 02:01 on Mar 26, 2013 |
|
#
?
Mar 26, 2013 01:53
|
|
|
Idle Hands - Meeting Point, Prior to General Assembly Waiting for the others to arrive and settle, Wyrm reviews her copy of the agenda. In a brief show of discomfort, she recoils from taking another drink of her morning beverage. A sudden cough discharges a handful of wooden splinters. Wyrm irately casts them aside and sighs, “Gonna be tasting sawdust for weeks...” Damnation meanders into the area, rubbing his forehead. “poo poo, Wyrm, I thought I had a rough night last night. What the hell happened to you?” He raises one eyebrow at the Captain, wondering if she’s hiding something. “Have you spoken with Never?” Wyrm shrugs, “Firing squad. Enough of ‘em there was no use getting out of the way, took a couple for the team.“ She gets back to that drink, “And of course I’ve seen Never.” Still somewhat exhausted, Damnation sits down in a nearby chair and suppresses a sigh at the non-answer. “Then you might know that there may be individuals; Death Knights, I mean, within our crew who may have received orders personally from their Deathlords, orders containing unique information not released to all of us for potential morale concerns.” Standing up to grab some coffee and qhat, the room goes silent for a moment. The pirate then turns around and looks the captain in the eye. “If you have any unique orders or received any special information from the Mask of Winters, it might be time to let me in on it.” “One very popular word.” Wyrm shows more distaste for spycraft than she did for shards of wood scraping at her innards, “Could be a hint, a clue, a thrice-occluded communiqué or a damned clerical error for all I care. Whatever else is going on above and below and behind our backs in whispered shadows can just get in line, because we have a target too important for me to give half a drat whose thousand clever ruses he’s a part of.” It came out a touch more bitter than it sounded in her head. Perhaps she’d just not spared much thought for something so despised. Chuckling a bit, Damnation puts down his coffee for a moment. “Yes, Wyrm. Ceterum auteum censeo Tidus expugnatus esse. Tide must be captured. I do not suggest we deviate from this course of action. However, I do not think we should fail to consider the fact that our Sidereal friend was sent alone to a god-forsaken island to do something that would get him killed if it were to be found out without being passed off as the work of certain other Anathema. He was a risky ploy to create a weapon for use in a bigger war, and that war will occur, though there may be some faint chance for we footsoldiers to stop it. The style of these people seems to be to dangle the obvious objective in front of us to keep us away from the longer ploy. The real masterminds have set up Tide as just one more potential pasty, another layer we must peel away before we get at their real aims. The individual objective must be accomplished with the goal of the entire campaign in mind. That is what we learned at Thorns, and it is why I will be going to Denzik.” “And it is why I delegate.” for her, the need to wait hurts more than the arrows, “And why I will keep our boy Tide on his toes ‘till you get back.” Nodding, Damnation smiles at the last comment. “Good. Perhaps the activity will help get all that lumber out of your system before you turn into one of those filthy wood-aspects.” “All the more for the pyre!” Wyrm reclines and laughs, “at least this time the prisoners are cute.” She sinks back into certain early pages of Poem’s report. “You should have seen the red one, curled up on the floor taking everything he’s got just to keep his eyes on me, and still goes on and on come on, I’ll take a dozen of ya - ain’t nothin’ won’t burn, you try hard enough - smell like grandma’s liquor cabinet - hear y’all already died once, how tough can ya be!? Always love that one, just the sheer dumb optimism of it.” Chuckling, the pirate looks curiously at her. “You know, Wyrm, if we want to burn things, we might consider the possibility of doing it on a larger scale. Expanding. A water spirit in the jungle told me there were passages running underneath the isle that might allow someone to infiltrate and investigate Tide’s manse. Might you, by any chance, know of an entrance?” Wyrm perks up at the sound of something tangible, “Yes, there’s one under that little place on that little place on the beach up-shore. They used it to surprise tourists. Carries a bit of a price though,” There’s a shift in Wyrm’s poise and tone likely lost on anyone but Damnation, “You’d ‘ave to bathe.” Damnation snorts. “I take off my armour and bathe. But, I doubt I’ll be the one going. I’m going to ask Butterfly and Ceaseless to investigate the properties of the manse. I suspect we could use it as a weapon. Maybe a bomb, maybe something more targeted. I need someone who actually knows about that poo poo to do more investigation, so I figure an engineer and a sorceress cover all the bases. Probably send Spark, since he’s into that sort of thing and close with Butterfly. More muscle might be a good idea, but it also might make them easier to spot, and I don’t want a big toss-up down there if it can be avoided.” Wyrm finishes her mug and sets it aside, “You sure the old man’s the one running your ship?” It’s been refilled by the time she’s done speaking. A fanged grin flashes back at her. “The old man’s the reason I’m not escorting them. He persuaded me that we need to take the Revelation and get this tome now, before Cleansing Enema gets a message to his mystery pal. poo poo, between sorcery and the kind of spy network he seems to have, I bet he already has. Wouldn’t surprise me if it’s us and them trying to pull off a heist at the same time. And, since it’s Denzik, I’m going to have to go in quiet. No wearing the obvious soulsteel get-up. It’s doublets, flame pieces, and swords that I ought to be using as toothpicks. Raging pain in the rear end.” “Like when you tripped the whiskers at Al-Jaf’? You’ll have to watch yourself, they don’t make tables that thick out here.” “Refusing to speak in anything but Old Realm and slamming that porter into a table really sold the character, but I’m not sure the Denzik would buy that. Probably better to pose as a perfectly respectable pirate with a nautical-themed library looking to add a rare book. Once we know where it is in that sprawling mess, be loud, obnoxious, and distracting while Onyx steals it. Then we come back, and no more side jobs. We plan the final attack and finish this mission. It’ll be like when I earned my office on Juggernaut’s spinal cord. Remember the Battle of Delta Plains? You borrowed a cannon from Barrow Mound’s Regent and broke three ribs.” “Worth. Every. Drop.” “Probably didn’t help that it was made by Ten Thousand Stars’ Last Gasp. For a genius, all his inventions are kind of idiotic unless you don’t care about dying in the blast.” With a chuckle, Damnation adds “Maybe he’s a better Death Knight than I am.” Putting his coffee mug down, he begins to head towards the door. “I suppose it’s almost time for the meeting. I’d look bad being late after threatening to kill anyone who came late.” As he walks out, he casts one sidelong glance back at his old rival. “Be careful out here.”
|
|
#
?
Mar 28, 2013 19:39
|
|
|
The Everlasting Butterfly of the Decadent Garden Let's do the Montage again! Personal: 9 --> 19/19, Peripheral: 31/31, Blood-Rose: 6/7, Willpower: 3 -- > 4/10 (Considering the Envoy is a Shadowlands, and my crazy Mote regeneration, a good night's sleep puts me back at full, with enough left over for some downtime actions that cost motes.) Life, Death, Unlife, Death, to Unlife again. (previous day) Butterfly was tired as she sat on the rowboat on the way back to the Envoy after the day's adventures on the island. She just mostly spent the trip lazily looking out at sea, lost in her own little daydreams trying to cast out the horrible implications of the circle and think of happier things in the world. Like shadows and will'o'the wisps. Like throwing butterflies at clouds. Like---wait, was that her parasol? What was it doing out here? Jenkins...he really did... "Stop! Turn around, get that parasol!" Everyone stared at her blankly, not understanding why she was making such a big deal of the parasol, until eventually Spark flew over and retrieved it for her. Butterfly clutched it close, and once they finally arrived back at the Envoy she climbed up it as fast as she could to the deck looking around. Tears started sliding down her cheeks as she ran across the deck to the place where the zombies supported her against Koko'Ino...but they weren't there. Someone tugged on her sleeve, causing Butterfly to violently react until she noticed it was Loren and Kaida. They didn't say anything, nor did Butterfly notice their new uniforms. The two youths led Butterfly back to her medical room, where the zombies gave up their power rested. The two must have somehow managed to wrangle the zombies back to their pen, and left the bodies in the lab for Butterfly to take care of. She didn't notice when Loren and Kaida left, but Butterfly picked up the body of Jenkins and placed him on her operating table. Carefully she infused the lifeless body with her own essence, until finally the body started moving again. The body rose, and got off the operating table, standing tall and waiting for orders. Butterfly stepped forward to embrace Jenkins, fighting back tears as she rested her head on the zombie manservant's shoulder. Jenkins was unalive once more, and everything was right with the world. ...until Jenkins tried to claw at her brains. With a firm command of "rghfgl" the zombie stopped and behaved as Butterfly continued hugging her zombie. (Insert something involving starting the Volcano Exploration team here.)
|
|
#
?
Mar 28, 2013 21:54
|
|
|
Wake-Up Call - Jiankang Fortunately for Onyx, much of the work has been done for her. The pain of the tortured alpha, combined with the psychic shock of losing Sesus Okove, have rendered the rest of the local Dynasts and their retainers unconscious. She finds them asleep at dining tables, collapsed in the streets, slumped over balconies, and otherwise indisposed. It's eerie, the degree to which the infectees mimic human behavior; enough to make her wonder - how much is the plant, and how much is person? Oh, would you look at that. Onyx has a dozen syringes of answer in her pockets. One by one, the Dragon-Blooded are cut away from the hive, alchemically flushed of the symbiote. Onyx: need to know if you're treating just the deebs, or everyone you find. After the third patient, it strikes her that everyone encountered in the city proper has been part of the blue strain. The greens and yellows were all concentrated in and around the warehouse, but the purples...they're nowhere to be found. Empty seats, abandoned posts, deserted homes; in the span of an hour, a third of Jiankang has gone missing. Well, that's it for the people and poo poo. Now for the loot! The city, it transpires, holds a quantity and variety of liquors to rival any stock, in Creation or beyond it. Beers, rums, more flavors of wine than could ever be counted, impossible brews purchased from the denizens of the Wyld; if it's alcoholic, it can be found here. House Sesus spared no expense in procuring libations to enhance the vacation experience (and possibly to dull the grinding pain of being stuck out in the rear end end of nowhere). Weapons are in scarcer supply. There are swords and spears and bows in the garrisons - more than one would expect, even - but not enough to equip an army. Her survey of the arms depots is brief and repetitive, the locks and chains on the doors and vaults barely a footnote in her - well hello, what's this? One of these barracks is not like the others. One of them flies the colors of House Peleps, not Sesus. One of them doesn't sound quite right her footsteps (such as they are) echo off of the walls. One of them has a Fun Surprise under the well-hidden trapdoor behind the wardrobe in the captain's quarters. Lots and lots of toys. Apparently, House Peleps was plotting something untoward, because there's a fair arsenal here. Daiklaves, goremauls, powerbows, and artifact armor abound (all jade, mostly black), but the real prizes are resting on bronze hooks at the back of the storeroom: a pair of man-portable Concussive Essence Cannons. They're well made, but they look a little different from the ones on the Revelation; Onyx can't quite place it, though. Are You Now, Or Have You Ever Been... - ??? A few glasses of fresh water later, Sesus Okove's migraine has receded enough for him to deliver his report. "I...I was investigating a smuggling ring. House Peleps, I suspected. Their ships were better-armed than they reasonably could have been." He splashes his face. "At first, it looked as if they were getting their weapons from the Denzik...but no. There was another seller, Guild-affiliated. I put my best man on it, Láng Congming. Only mortal, but a hell of a detective." Okove frowns, struggling to remember. "Then one day, I get a message from...I have no idea why, but I think it was the abbot of the Immaculate mission. He said he might have answers for me, and then..." He trails off as the memories grow fainter. "...and then, I woke up in here." He looks for the source of the voice. "I'm sorry, do I know you? I have the strangest sense of deja vu. And have you seen Láng at all? He was supposed to check in..." The fireblood blinks. "...three months ago, apparently." A Study In Blue - Envoy Medical Bay, Operating Theater Rinsed of saltwater and given a chance to recover, the officer of the blue strain rapidly returns to wakefulness. It is confused and bewildered; large chunks of it are missing, and it cannot feel itself. Onyx's serial medication of the prior night took a toll on the hive; only a scale or so of mortals remain within the collective. Nonetheless, it is surprisingly cooperative, especially once it realizes that Spawn of the Devouring Wyrm is taking part in its debriefing. They have questions. It has answers. Its mission was to locate the summoning circle within the shadowland along with a contingent of the orchidmen, and consume it. All evidence of the parlay here was to be destroyed, no trace remaining to incriminate Tide in a court of Celestial law. The rest of its bodies remain within Jiankang, secured within repurposed drunk tanks. At this, Butterfly interjects, demanding to know which flavor of tea it prefers. It replies that tea is cannibalism; it greatly prefers steeped bonemeal. Provided with a beverage, it continues. On the subject of Tide and his plans, it has much to say. It does not know precisely how many bodies exist within the purple strain, but they received the lion's share of the new ones once the Heartbreak was infested, including pressganged sailors. It is unaware of when and where Tide procured the ship's formidable armaments; that he was so secretive was its first clue that the other strains may not have been meant to survive. Of the others, only the yellow heeded it. On that note, it asks what became of the yellow strain. Learning that it died well proves small comfort. When it once more composes itself enough to talk, much is learned of the one whose ambitions encompass a world. When Tide learned of the arrival of one or more Anathema (the blue that delivered the message is dead now; clearly, he had no intention of being spied upon), he seemed almost amused. Asked how it knew of Anathema to begin with, it points to the phrasing of "Regal Unbowed Dragon"'s diatribe. No true Dynast would deign to swear by the gods, yet he and his companions were clearly more than mortal. Spirits do not swear on their own names. The conclusion, therefore, followed quite inevitably. Between bits and bobs of trivia, a picture of Tide himself begins to emerge. He is intelligent and ruthless, and a formidable foe. He is more than a little bit of a control freak, and does not take insubordination well at all. The blue officer doesn't know the full extent of his capabilities, but what it has seen is daunting. Curiously, one other detail strikes Butterfly as important: Tide is an avid calligrapher, and was absolutely adamant that he not be disturbed while writing. Butterfly: that may be cause for some alarm. From what you know of Sidereals, their most powerful magics and martial arts involve the use of prayer strips. If Tide is stockpiling them, it can only mean he's getting ready for a fight. As for what you know of Sidereals in general: They are at once the agents and arbiters of Fate. They reside and work in Yu-Shan, the City That Is Heaven. They are consummate politickers and manipulators, both aided and hindered by some working of destiny that prevents them from being remembered...at least, as themselves. They can, if they wish, invent a new identity and write it into the stars, wearing a persona (which can be remembered) like a mask; it is quite likely that this is what Scatters-The-Ashes did to become Cleansing Tide. They are, to an extent, bound by the characters they play; if they act out of character, their own weavings work against them, and they may be exposed for who they truly are. They are also the greatest martial artists in existence. A breakdown of the tiers of styles: A mortal martial artist can emulate the fluid movements of water A Terrestrial martial artist can flow exactly like water A Celestial martial artist can become water And a Sidereal martial artist can turn the battlefield into an ocean and themselves into a nation-drowning tsunami. Asked which spying coin belonged to it, it becomes terse and evasive, rather pointedly not looking at Wyrm, but not looking away from her either. Its decision to save her had come at the culmination of her song, whereupon it had resolved that Tide would not disappear her like he had so many others. Lastly, a single question remains: "Do you miss her?" In answer, it only nods sadly. Remembrance - Envoy, Lounge It was inevitable, really, but such things have a habit of circling the edge for quite some time. As Wyrm had... known? suspected? hoped? … her words had reached the higher soul of Cynis Xùlan, and dragon-master’s true self could not rest while knowing the horror she had become. For good or ill, the fallen nun had returned to creation to face the consequences of her final acts. Inevitable, really, that she would meet her final student. There was so much that Wyrm could say, in celebration and mourning, in praise and condemnation, in enmity and respect. But this fallen one was not her friend, and barely lived to be her enemy. No, the first right of contact with the deceased lay her surviving kin and with her victims. With one spread worlds away and the other terribly numerous, the thought distills to a solemn few - Rose, Auling, Bolt. Wyrm had done her duties as medium and speaker to allow this moment to occur. Now she need only serve as host to this grim reunion. A task for which her ship is well equipped. Whether the participants are so prepared, however, is a different matter altogether. For the longest time, there is silence. Ghost and Dynast and elemental face each other, half a room and a whole world apart. Auling is terrified beyond words; Rose is shaking like a leaf; Bolt's glare would make a demon shrink. The shade of Cynis Xùlan, neither floating nor quite touching the deck, at last breaks the tension when she drifts to face the cowering woodblood. "Stand up straight," she barks. "No slouching. Eyes front." At last, the dam breaks. A torrent of emotion pours forth, anguished and sobbing, punctuated by the constant refrain of "I'm sorry." "Yes," Xùlan acknowledges, "you are sorry. Where is your weapon? Are you even armed?" She slaps him. "Have you learned nothing? You are at war, novice. Act like it." Shocked into silence, Auling stares up at her through watery eyes, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. Xùlan continues. "Do not presume to apologize for things you have not done. I know now - this is far from the first time the Sidereal Anathema has attempted this; merely the first time he has succeeded. The fault lies purely with him...and with myself." She stoops to bring her face level with his. "If not for the release of the original specimen, none of you would have survived." Auling blinks away the tears. "Wait...you mean...you're saying I helped?" The response clearly weighs heavy on her as her brutal honesty clashes with her loathing of rulebreaking and carelessness. "Yes," she admits in the end, "you helped. But Sextes Jylis help me, if ever I hear that you broke quarantine again I will climb right back out of my grave and beat you with a mooring line." For Rose, she has fewer words. Few are needed. Rose wraps her arms around Xùlan, her body warm and solid and alive against the cold of Xùlan's pale imitation of flesh. Lifetimes pass in the span of minutes as Rose sobs out all of the grief and horror of the past week; Xùlan gives no reply, but to hold her tighter. At last, at long last, they part. "Be careful," Xùlan whispers, and scowls at Wyrm. "That one has impure designs on you." Despite herself, Rose smiles. "Don't worry," she reassures her old sifu. "I still know who I am." "Not what I meant," Xùlan deadpans. "Then what..." Rose's eyes go wide as the meaning sinks in. "Oh. OH. I...um...oh my." She dares a look at Wyrm, then turns away, her cheeks scarlet. Bolt stares long and hard at his nemesis, silent and inscrutable. Tension (and static) choke the atmosphere, arcs of corposant dancing up and down the wall paneling until it seems the very ship may catch aflame. At last, six months of blood and pain and hate and a thousand thousand words of enmity boil down to a simple exchange. “Face or gut?” Bolt asks. “Face.” Xùlan replies. His punch sends her clear across the room. Blast From The Past Damnation's sleep is far from restful. Fragments of the day replay in his head, a confused whorl of memories muddled by fatigue and the nonsense mutterings of the subconscious. Gradually, the ratio tips in favor of less memory and more nonsense, spiraling downward into the lunacy of dream... Damnation: "Sultan!" A voice familiar and yet completely unknown yells at him from somewhere both near and very far away. There is tension in his voice, in Damnation's heart, and the rush of adrenaline. So much had been lost, so many had died, but here they are alive, alive and safe. Unless... "Sultan!" he is hailed again. "Snap out of it, we don't have time to gently caress around. Check the others, now!" "At once!" A voice that is not his issues from his lips. "Tzatli?" "Silent, but all systems green." "Meru?" "Gone." "Luthe?" "Emergency protocols engaged; gone, for all intents and purposes." "Olv-Kai-D'nah?" "Gone, thank Sol. Not even a ping. I don't even want to think about the damage the Sids and the Terries might have done if they'd gone loving around with it." "Cornagos?" "Not respon-" And in the span of two minutes, eight hours somehow managed to slip past, unnoticed. You've Probably Never Heard Of It... - Villa, Secret Passage, T = 0 Butterfly, Ceaseless, Murmur, and Spark stand in the baths of the governor's villa before the carving of the great dragon. Their gear has been stripped and checked; their objective is clear; their intel is as up-to-date as it can be. They are almost ready to descend into the maze of caverns beneath the mountain in search of a means to end this. Almost. Three of them stand before the entrance to the underground. One stands before the spot where her sister was murdered. Murmur's breath comes out in an icy sigh as her hands clench into fists and the temperature drops precipitously. The shallow pools mist, then freeze over as icicles sprout from the ceiling before their eyes. At last, the chill recedes, and the mizukami makes a gesture of respect well-recognized by the champions of death. She flicks her wrist. A jet of water issues from her sleeves. The stone dragon shudders, then splits in half along the hair-line cut from the pressurized lathe. Now they are all ready. Gonna need Per+Awareness from everyone, and maybe Dex/Wits+Stealth if you're trying to be discreet. Firewalker - Lordsmeet Isle - T = 12 hours "There it is." In the dark of night, Bolt's otherwise-unnecessary comment proves quite helpful; the six stony spires rising from the sea are all but invisible against the inky water. Lordsmeet itself, however, is unmistakable. Lush greenery and volcanic glass coat the shores and slopes of the isle, lit not by any sun or moon but the ambient glow of its countless fire elemental denizens, of which there are visibly many. "Here's a place with a story that was old when I was just a hatchling. Waaaaay back when the Solars were in charge, a handful of Eclipses decided there just weren't enough islands out here, so they got six volcano gods to make more. Without all the arable land they raised, humans couldn't live out here. This place, right here, is where the pact was made; where the Six Lords of Burning Earth were promised all the tasty criminals and malcontents they could eat in exchange for keeping everyone else safe and fed." "Last I heard, the current regent of Lordsmeet was Rashida bint Harik. If that's still the case, then you'll want to be careful about handling this - be completely honest, tell her everything, don't bother sucking up, and whatever you do, DON'T TRY TO BRIBE HER. I'm serious, she will flip right the gently caress out." Far below, the lights begin to gather on the rocky beach. "Looks like we're getting the royal welcome. Let's try to make sure it's the good kind of royal instead of the 'off-with-their-heads' kind, yeah?" Diplomacy, ho! Shop 'Til You Drop (Dead) - Denzik Fleet - T = 36 hours By night, the floating city is a glittering jewel on the waves, countless torches and braziers and lamps and bottled glow-worms from the deepest forests of the east making the ships shine even in the darkness of the near-moonless night. Some would judge this foolish, a beacon certain to draw pirates and worse upon the merchants. Some have not seen or heard of the many, many antique armaments affixed to the hardpoints, any one of which could core any mundane boat like a rotten apple. So it is that the Revelation (carefully masked and disguised as a well-armed merchanter) approaches very, very politely and hails the guards on the outermost ship to request permission to come aboard. "Dearest, shall we away to this quaint little market?" Blood has already gotten thoroughly into character. Her strawberry-blonde hair has been dyed a vivid red, and pulled back into a flowing cascade that reaches halfway to the floor. She wears a form-fitting kimono of violet silk embroidered with minimalist floral designs, and her long nails have been painted the same scarlet as her hair. A wide collar is draped about her shoulders, reaching higher than the top of her head, countless feathers from tropical birds forming a colorful 'crest' of sorts...which conveniently masks the feathers intermingled with her own hair. On the garrison ship, a towering southerner hails them back, bidding them approach. "Habari, bwana! Come, and we can get this bothersome paperwork out of the way so you may go about your business!" Well they seem friendly enough. Thesaurasaurus fucked around with this message at 01:49 on Mar 30, 2013 |
|
#
?
Mar 30, 2013 01:30
|
|
|
Blighted Jackal Face Master “Meh!” Jackal says with a sneer as he observes the island, arms crossed as he darted through the sky on his personal Windblade. “This place is too hot for my liking, even if it looks like an acceptable place for a tropical resort. Perhaps taking out all those fireheads could help with that matter, though.” Jackal spent most of the trip complaining to himself, as his indignant feelings about the treatment given to him clashed with the newfound desire to incur into more cooperation with his fellow Abyssals. He still cared nothing about the Thunderbirds and other Dragon-Blooded, cooly ignoring their very existence on most occasions. Of course, this meant that the current ensemble with him was anything but a desirable one. The only one who was almost at his level was the winged woman, but she was a complete mystery for him, and Jackal was too impatient to solve mysteries. Wyrm would be a more fitting companion, as she was one of the few persons that looked like an equal to him... Or had the potential to be such, more like. Still, it’s a matter of doing the most with the cards you were dealt with, and as much as he didn’t want to acknowledge the presence of the Thunderbird, Jackal does hear to his foolish anecdotes. “Please, like I, Jackal, would bother to ‘suck up’ to a puny creature such as that. The most respect that one such as me could give to one such as that is not to squish the bugs on sight! But no worries, ‘tis the truth and only the truth that will come out of my mouth.” Of course, considering what Jackal considers to be truth, that doesn’t sound very reassuring at all. Still, it’s too late for Bolt and the others to do anything, because the Moonshadow has already descended into the rocky beach, opening his arms in a theatrical gesture as he addresses the Fire Elementals swarming the beach. “GREETINGS, FIRE BROTHERS!”
|
|
#
?
Mar 30, 2013 02:34
|
|
|
A Letter From The Last Damnation of Atlantis Butterfly finds an unadorned envelope addressed to her lying next to her tea set. Someone knew where to put it so they could find her. To Butterfly posted:I appreciate your willingness to investigate the volcano and underground passages of the island. If at all possible, I would like you to discover a few things for me while you are there. Firstly, though, I will tell you what I have discovered through my investigation. MiltonSlavemasta fucked around with this message at 03:01 on Mar 30, 2013 |
|
#
?
Mar 30, 2013 02:41
|
|
|
Watcher at the Gates of Sorrow "Paperwork? My favorite." There is no sarcasm at all dripping from his words (or this). Grudgingly, the old man gets out of his comfortable captain's chair and moves to fill out the wretched forms, listing the ship's very real cargo (stolen from various other ships, but real nonetheless). "Looks pretty chaotic in there--is there some sort of order to the madness? A map, perhaps?" Uhh do I have to roll to fill out forms gud?
|
|
#
?
Mar 30, 2013 04:10
|
|
|
The Everlasting Butterfly of the Decadent Garden It's Lava, not Magma. Personal: 19/19, Peripheral: 33/33, Blood-Rose: 6/7, Willpower: 4/10 Mail Time! (T = -2 hours) Butterfly shuffled around her cabin on the Envoy, her hair completely ruffled as she stumbled about moaning "teeeeeeeaaa" like one of her own zombies. Even as a mortal she was never a morning person, and becoming a creature of the night and death only made her less of one. It didn't help that she had a massive headache, although it could have been the drinking she did last night while plotting her coup for the office of the Daimyo of Piracy (note: do not attempt usurpation by drinking contest), or it could have been the fact that she blood rose with a bone stem literally embedded in the side of her skull. Stumbling around her cabin she starts brewing a pot of black tea, mixing in a small portion of bonemeal. The conversation with the blue orchidman had her curious to see if there were any good ways to mix bonemeal into tea. Maybe the zombies would like it? It was then she noticed the letter next to her tea set. With a yawn she sat down at the table and opened up the letter, reading it as she sipped her morning tea. Oh, how nice of Damnation. He was the one that wanted her to check out the volcano so badly, so it was nice to have on paper what he wanted her to find out. And oh? What was that? Int+Lore for [REDACTED]: 8d10x7 2 Meru, Tzatli, Luthe, Cornagos? Hmm...Meru's an old name for the Elemental Pole of Earth and the Imperial Mountain. But was soooo boring, everything around it was just serious and stable and not fun at all. Like Kaida. Pulling out a pen and some ink from her drawer, she marked in what she knew about Meru next to it's line. As for the rest, well they sounded like places. Loren's a history buff, maybe he would know. Damnation didn't really say she couldn't ask anyone else, and it's not like he was going to tell anyone. (Butterfly will share the details of Damnation's letter (spoiler's too) with Ceaseless, Spark and Loren so they can roll too.) ...yeah, can't think of any volcano puns. Butterfly shivers a little bit at Murmur's frosty actions, and when she notices the elemental's sorrow with this location, she steps forward and gives her a warm embrace. No words need to be said, and gives Murmur a little squeeze before descending. Perc+Aware to look at the pretty volcano: 3d10x7 2 Dex+Stealth for Nin Nin!: 4d10x7 3 Krysmphoenix fucked around with this message at 15:29 on Mar 30, 2013 |
|
#
?
Mar 30, 2013 05:20
|
|
|
Never Within Reach -Envoy: Who's the bluntest one of all? Never waited patiently for the meeting with the shade of Cynis Xulan to conclude. There was nothing for her in that room, though the solid thump as Bolt showed his displeasure for the spirit warmed her. When it was over, the ghost made as if to leave. Never cornered her on the deck, alone. No introductions were needed, so none were given. There were two questions the Day Caste had for the dead Immaculate, one on her own behalf, and one on Bolt's. She began with the latter. "The Anathema whose body you stole. How did she die?" "Painfully. What Sextes Jylis giveth, he may taketh away." A slight nod of the head was all Never allowed as a response. She'd guessed as much, but it would give the Thunderbird no comfort to hear that his friend's soul had been torn from her body in that way. "It was I who found the notes that led to your release from Scatters the Ashes, and I who brought you low enough for Sesus Rosene to send you to the afterlife. In return, I ask this: Where is the manse this stone calls home?" She produced the green hearthstone kept on her person ever since its discovery in the hold of the Jewel. If Xulan was surprised she did not show it. "Far to the east of here. There is a lone islet in the ocean, overgrown by brambles whose thorns rise higher than trees. The hearthroom is perched atop the tallest thorns." No gratitude is offered, no insult given. If war makes strange bedfellows, death makes them even more so. The Abyssal and the Immaculate dismissed each other in the same instant, each turning in a direction that lead to her own tasks. Perhaps they were more alike than either would ever admit. --- We Have an Understanding Later, Wyrm's office, Envoy The Day caste looked over Wyrm's meticulous notes, taken down after the earlier interrogations. They'd only been locked in the second desk drawer, which had become shorthand for 'read and report if anything of interest strikes you.' Okove's mention of a missing mortal named Láng Congming drew her eye. Láng... L? She jotted down a quick note of her own, placing it carefully atop the gathered papers. Captain, intelligence suggests this mortal detective may have been taken into Scatters the Ashes' confidence. It's possible that another Sidereal has taken his life over, or an infested exaltation implanted on him. It may be useful to collect a description of him and any known associates. She turned the drawer's knob so that the keyhole rested sideways, a signal that something interesting was noted, then pocketed the rather nice quill and exited, locking the door behind her. --- Why'd We Bring Him, Again? Skies over Lordsmeet Never found herself listening in on Jackal's endless (and truly, it was endless!) diatribe on the trip to Lordsmeet. To Never, who had always been a loyal right hand woman even before her exaltation, Jackal's insistence on his own freedom and individuality was a refreshing sort of madness. He didn't want to lead, not like Wyrms, he just wanted... Well honestly she wasn't sure. He was a puzzle, and Never loved puzzles. When she sorted through all the insults and complaints and assertions that He, Jackal, really was the best... She found she could hear something entirely different. In his own way she was pretty sure he was sorry for how things had gone so far, and wanted to make it up to the rest of them. His reasoning might be as crazy as he was, but she appreciated the sentiment anyway. Potential goodwill was set aside for the moment as the Moonshadow puttered down towards the island on his noisy flying machine, yelling out his greetings. Never and Bolt shared a look before following. It was going to be an interesting day.
|
|
#
?
Mar 30, 2013 14:48
|
|
|
Last Damnation of Atlantis - Before Leaving the Boat During a quiet moment at sea, Damnation approaches the captain. "Sir, I, too, have been blessed with the visions. I had my first one last night. I was another man, somewhere else, but it all seemed very real. This man knew names, of places, I think, where people had been sheltered during a time of much death. Maybe cities. Maybe military bases." The first mate pauses, rubbing his forehead, trying to remember. "He said Meru. Luthe. Cornagos. Tzatli. I feel as though I knew what these places were, but I have forgotten. Do these names mean anything to you?" Clad in a bright red doublet, jaunty hat, flowing pantaloons, a bandolier of flame pieces, and a rapier, Damnation cuts an absurdly flamboyant figure in the night, a not-so-subtle pastiche of some of his fellow crewmen. "Greetings, guardsman. You'll have to excuse my captain, Ahab Melville. He's not the most sociable type, but he's a fine a sailor as I have every seen, swear on my mother's grave! If you have any questions, direct them to I, First Mate Vance Cutlass, Sailor and Poet extraordinaire." He turns to gesture at Blood-On-The-Wind, trying not to laugh. "This is our faithful elemental compatriot, Wind-Beneath-My-Wings. How do you do, Guardsman, sir?"
|
|
#
?
Mar 30, 2013 18:21
|
|
|
The old sea-captain sighs as he sees his crew make asses of themselves. Instead of acknowledging them in any way, Ahab continues to fill out paperwork and turns to face the guard captain. "I would apologize for their behavior, but I'm sure you get it all the time. You know how it is--a few months out on the sea and they suddenly get the chance to make an impression, if you know what I mean. Don't worry, they're harmless as long as you don't drink anything they offer you."
|
|
#
?
Mar 30, 2013 19:22
|
|
|
"Sorry, sir. Like I told you, the old captain's not very sociable." Vance Cutlass playfully elbows the man who is indeed old, and is indeed a captain, in the ribs. "Say, we're looking to sell and possibly buy while we're here. Any advice?"
|
|
#
?
Mar 30, 2013 21:41
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 28, 2024 00:04 |
|
|
Watcher at the Gates of Sorrow The names are not exactly unfamiliar, merely obscure. He ponders for several moments before replying. "The only mention I have heard of those is in ancient accounts of the First age--I will give some examples: quote:Omek Envaid, a minor functionary in the Western Elemental Court, was once ordered to double the taxes on saltwater pearls. When he balked, the head of the province at the time gave vague threats about how Omek "would not want someone to use Luthe to solve the disagreement." quote:In the year 306 of the High First Age, an unidentified Solar was recorded as stating that a widescale rebellion was simply laughable in the face of Tzatli. OldMidgetWillow fucked around with this message at 22:01 on Mar 30, 2013 |
|
#
?
Mar 30, 2013 21:58
|
|