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UnCO3
Feb 11, 2010

Ye gods!

College Slice

quote:

Through endless glorious valleys and groaning forests and kaleidoscope rivers and swollen oceans and chattering ruins and—

Please, god, let me see them again.

Original image: Samuel Gaudio, Font: IM FELL DW PICA by Igino Marini

This is Fleet, a playtest of a game in development, for the following people:
  1. UnCO3
  2. Tyrannosaurus
  3. AJ_Impy
Thread Rules
  1. Try to post within 24 hours when the next round starts, or let us know that you’ll be late when you can’t.
  2. Keep an eye out for times when you need to post in response to someone else (e.g. asking or answering a question, playing the Prince).
The next post contains an evolving map and history of the world: click here to skip straight to the first post.

-

You can find my published games here: https://speak-the-sky.itch.io/ and here: https://www.drivethrurpg.com/browse/pub/15183/Speak-the-Sky

UnCO3 fucked around with this message at 22:06 on Sep 19, 2019

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UnCO3
Feb 11, 2010

Ye gods!

College Slice
THE CITY
of deep loves:
my younger brother, Milo, desperate to become like me
my nephew, Noberto, who exchanged worldly things for monastic clarity at a young age, yet who I will still visit and support even cloistered away though he may be, who has reached the cusp of adulthood in my absence, and who I still visit in the depths of his regrets, who is taken from the cloister by order of the Prince.
the Orichalcum Blade Tournament

of unconquerable challenges:
a friend and rival in chess, Katerina, threatened by allegations of espionage, but who I stand by in spite of what others may say
to curse my family, who bear gifts from my beloved, but who I feel no spark of bittersweet love or rage for any more.
the Orichalcum Blade Tournament

of bitter bonds:
the Dun Quarter, reinvigorated and reconstructed at wealth’s command, to my surprise and satisfaction, then gentrified in its new glory, its original inhabitants displaced, that I now resent and despise as all that’s wrong with the balance of power in this place
my nephew, Noberto, who exchanged worldly things for monastic clarity at a young age, but who I believe should have seen the world before shunning it, who has reached the cusp of adulthood in my absence, who is taken from the cloister by order of the Prince.
a looming settlement with my creditors, now seeking debts from and revenge upon all riders, seeking with hatred and bloodlust and defied by the citizenry, until their original debtor swore to resolve the matter. Now they lie in gaol at the Prince's behest.

of simple pleasures:
church bells, thoroughly cleaned and purified, rejected by the veteran of the wars.
home-cooked local delicacies, replaced by a delicious foreign cuisine of burning spice
the Orichalcum Blade Tournament
-
1: an ancient architectural wonder (Renewal)
the Godsbridge, at the foot of the city
divinely inspired
symbol of martial might

but its stone repurposed for jollity
now hearth for wounded warriors
built of ancient fossil stone
-
2: a divided warring community (Severance), formerly a formerly-bustling tradepost (Decay)
a once-valuable stop on roads of blood and gold
left to rot under timesick eyes
over river dried to stinking marsh

split by new hope and nostalgia.
a boiling and burning war-waging wall-breaking divide
irreconcilable views turning to inevitable bloodshed
turning hospitalities into ashes

-
3: a windswept hilltop observatory (Clarity)
the Royal Observatory
cathedral of endless constellations
asylum for cosmic nihilists

yet dark refuge for a stellar princess
-
4: a barren, beautiful gully (Clarity)
a gully banded with coloured stone
eaten down by hungry streams
revealing black fossils

lonely remnants to inspire mad seekers
in the shadows of the ghosts of trees
where madness metamorphoses into heresy
casually desecrated
-
5: a winding cliff path (Severance)
a wide, unfenced path of grit and soil
giving way to entrancingly beautiful sights
over the edge

a fragile, deadly edge
more deadly the ravenous bandits
yet still worthy of warning
-
6: a row of timeworn obelisks (Clarity)
eight white pillars against the forest, only seven against the sky
striking, ancient, broken
unmoored from meaning

this stage for seven ghostly dancers
entices hungry scholars
who learn the old songs
while one loves and is loved by a ghost
to the derision of their peers
who shield the stones with cloth and translate their ancient graffiti
and find meaning in the babbling
-
7: a mossy ruined fort (Decay)
tower beset by rot and flower
abandoned too long ago
recolonised by moss

remnants of bloodshed smothered by petals and vines
-
8: a man-eating arbor (illusion), formerly a silent, vaulted forest (Growth)
a forest of kingly gargant trees
a painter’s paradise
the dusk eternal

abandoned by birds for its silence
and carnivorous trees.
an overgrowth of flesh-eating trees
devouring weary travellers
save those who learn fast when in danger

-
9: a network of grass-bottomed canals (Illusion)
perhaps a symbol carved into the ground on a huge scale
home to flagellant phantoms
tended by an illicit priest

-
10: a field of flowers (Decay)
nestled in rolling hills
a beautiful cloak over a foul, rotting secret
guarded by insect eaters of the dead

envaling the hive-bearing corpsebloom
sheltering bandit armies of flies
-
11: an insular, hostile settlement (Renewal)
stockaded bucolic paradise
where the Prince’s seal holds no sway
only the cold steel of its defenders

-
12: the barren ruins of a hallowed City (Clarity), formerly the barren ruins of a hated City (Clarity), formerly a sea of grass (Growth)
swirling silver-topped grass
swallowing the old road
to a lost and forgotten city

hated mirror to our own
at last revealed by the poisonous vanity soaked into the land
killing the grass and revealing toppled ruins
of oppression and separation

given funeral mercy by a messenger
-
13: an abandoned patch of wilderness (Decay), formerly a nomad camp (Illusion)
exotic horse traders
fill this patch of desert with life and water one day
take their wares and secrets away the next

leaving fleeting rainflowers.
an abandoned place
traders vanish into dust heavy with time
leaving only dreams

-
14: a red and bonestrewn desert (Severance)
a vast basin
beloved by the sun that cannot touch it
resting place of new and ancient bones

shaded by new hardy plants
-
15: an Unknown Land
-
16: a carnivorous causeway of volcanic teeth (Decay)
black pillars drowned by black waters
catching fish when the tide ebbs again
scavenged by mute fishers

a mouth waiting for a human catch? perhaps
-
17: an Unknown Land
-
18: wind-scoured subterranean earthworks (Clarity), formerly the remains of an abandoned village (Renewal)
lines and angles revealing old houses
stone foundations broken by grass and root
pushing up from old graves

now scoured clean by roaring wind that turns grassy soil to dust
eight black towers buried in the earth
graves to a music that still haunts this place

-
19: a towering rock-cut relief (Renewal)
a mountain face carved with an old and worn idol
woman bearing axe and flag
a place of rest

repainted in glorious colours
-
20: an Unknown Land
-
21: a mirror-sheen fjord (Clarity)
mighty shards of polished ice
repaired by dutiful monks
to show God’s reflection

-
22: a wavering desert mirage (Illusion)
anonymous and amorphous sands
given dear form and meaning
by travellers imposing memory on mirage

-
23: a bloated, whistling bog (Decay)
a stinking, belching bog and its whistling eel-picker
a roadless, trackless, maze-like plain
lorded over by a petty lordling and a bad shot

-
24: an Unknown Land
-
25: an Unknown Land
-
26: an Unknown Land
-
27: an Unknown Land
-
28: an Unknown Land
-
29: an Unknown Land
-
THE CARAVAN
the exiled Prince
steepled tents and wagons of wood and steel
the Prince's wagon, two stories tall and pulled by oxen
Vitaliano, the Prince's white-bearded quartermaster in an Alpine cap, old friend of Cicalone, sends letters to the princess
soldiers and servants
songs and campfires
the rearguards, Dorigo and Esteban
commissary wagons
the Prince’s alchemist and his red-blue smoke

UnCO3 fucked around with this message at 11:25 on Aug 10, 2020

UnCO3
Feb 11, 2010

Ye gods!

College Slice
I am Domino, called Corriere, a messenger for the Prince. I am a dutiful elder brother, a journeyman in chess, and a peasant of little renown. My family waits for me at home and I hold a similarly deep love for them, particularly my younger brother Milo, who idolises me. Even so, my family’s unambitious and downtrodden life can be suffocating, and the Dun Quarter we share with others of our rank is a bitter bond that stifles the person I know I can be. I often set out of our home to the middle city parks to play against Katerina, my rival in chess, the daughter of a foreign ambassador. She is, as of yet, an unconquerable challenge. I’ve brought a rough-hewn stone chess knight with me as a memento.

I am indeed all of these things. I am also a distant admirer of blades - not that I would ever wield one at my current status, but I do enjoy watching the competitors in the Orichalcum Blade Tournament practise their art, when they deign to do so in public places. It is but a simple pleasure.

-

Corriere
Turn 1


I set out from the Prince’s Caravan and ride swiftly back to the City. It takes me but a short while, and I handily deliver the Prince’s letters to the court. That gives me plenty of time to do all else that I’d like to.

First, I visit the halls of combat where the City-dwelling practitioners of the sword are preparing for the upcoming tournament. There’s something to the sweep of a blade in the dusty light that fascinates me, the way it leaves waves in its wake – it’s almost hypnotic, but I have no time to fall asleep. I have more personal matters to attend to.

Next, I go to the middle parks, on the fringes of which the elderly masters play the great game, and journeymen and -women like me play almost like children in comparison. I find Katerina waiting for me there and fight—lose—another few good games (I thought they were hard-fought; she disagreed). But – I’ve delayed too long.

I didn’t delay without good reason. As I walk further and further from the court the city becomes duller, harder, scrawnier. Now I find myself in the Dun Quarter.

I can’t bring myself to hate this place, though. This is where my family lives. My younger brother, just an apprentice. We share a meal together – one better than my rations for the journeys ahead – and I regale him again with stories of riding through the open world with the wind at your back. One day, he’ll follow in my footsteps – in our father’s and his father’s and his father’s footsteps – and become a courier, too.

I can’t stay to sleep, though. My work begins so early tomorrow that I must sleep in the postal stables by the City gates. I leave home late and I must wake early.

-

Name: Corriere
Selves: journeyman in chess, dutiful elder brother, peasant of little renown, distant admirer of blades
Possessions: A rough-hewn stone chess knight

Growth: 0
Decay: 0
Severance: 0
Renewal: 0
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 0

UnCO3 fucked around with this message at 23:41 on Jul 27, 2019

Tyrannosaurus
Apr 12, 2006
I am Nevio, called Cicalone, a messenger for the Prince. I am a veteran of the wars, an accomplished swordsman, and a broken-hearted bachelor. I am also a hopeless stutterer. When I returned to the city from soldiering, I discovered that my betrothed had married my brother. Worse, I found I had been named godfather to their son, my nephew, Noberto. This bitter bond eats at my heart. I tried to find comfort in the the Orichalcum Blade Tournament, one of the wonders of the city and certainly one of my deep loves, yet I found no joy in my victories there. I wish to curse my family, berate my brother, scream out my rage, but-- no matter how many times I practice the words in my mind-- my flustered tongue remains as complicit to their betrayal as my parents who approved their marriage. Is it God's plan for this unconquered challenge to remain so forever? I don't know. I only know that I must trust in God. I have taken with me a holy book for my travels. It is from the cathedral of my youth, where I was baptized, where I should have been married. I carry it in my pocket and the sound of the church bells in my mind. Even in my darkest of despairs, I could always take some small, simple pleasure in those bells.

-

Name: Cicalone
Selves: veteran of the wars, accomplished swordsman, broken-hearted bachelor, hopeless stutterer
Possessions: a holy book

Growth: 0
Decay: 0
Severence: 0
Renewal: 0
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 0

AJ_Impy
Jun 17, 2007

SWORD OF SMATTAS. CAN YOU NOT HEAR A WORLD CRY OUT FOR JUSTICE? WHEN WILL YOU DELIVER IT?
Yam Slacker
I am Noberta called Allegra, a messenger for the Prince. I am an identical twin, a renowned duelling fencer, a family-oriented woman and an inveterate gambler. The latter has left me with an unpaid, bitter bond which I will need to settle with my creditors at some point. perhaps with my winnings from the Orichalcum Blade Tournament when I finally master that unconquered challenge. I was ever the more adventurous of out of my sib and myself, learning the art of the blade and pledging to the prince, but I take simple pleasure in the home-cooked local delicacies that my sister excels in making. Family is especially important to me, my most prized possession is an embroidered sash made and gifted by my twin, and I hold a deep love for my nephew, Noberto, whom my sister did me the most profound honour when she named him.

-

Name: Allegra
Selves: an identical twin, a renowned duelling fencer, a family-oriented woman, inveterate gambler
Possessions: an embroidered sash made and gifted by my twin

Growth: 0
Decay: 0
Severence: 0
Renewal: 0
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 0

UnCO3
Feb 11, 2010

Ye gods!

College Slice
Corriere
Turn 2


The return is just as easy - it seems the wind always favours me. Before long I sight the Prince's caravan on the horizon, encamped and flying red-and-blue flags of defiance against the ochre sunset. As I draw closer I pick up the scent of ash and flame and spot the fires now being lit for the night and the sparse clouds of moths fluttering obsessively around them.

And then I arrive, and tie up my paint horse with the outriders' and hunters' steeds, and make my way through the encampment, between the spiralled layers of steepled tents and wide-wheeled wagons, in to the core where the Prince's wagon stands. It's a grand two-storey affair, wood banded with steel, less a wagon and more a squat tower hauled by surly oxen.

And at the door I hand off the letters to be given to the Prince - I give them to a man in an Alpine cap with a thick white beard, I believe he's the quartermaster - and go off to one of the servants' tents to rest, eat, and consider my games with Katerina. There's still so much time before I sleep...

-

Name: Corriere
Selves: journeyman in chess, dutiful elder brother, peasant of little renown, distant admirer of blades
Possessions: A rough-hewn stone chess knight

Growth: 0
Decay: 0
Severance: 0
Renewal: 0
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 0

UnCO3 fucked around with this message at 23:41 on Jul 27, 2019

Tyrannosaurus
Apr 12, 2006

quote:

7:17 PM BOTDiceBot: @Tyrannosaurus: 2d6 = (4+4) = 8
My turn ends as I reach the city

Cicalone
Turn 2

I lift my banner and the gates open for me upon my approach. I do not need to speak to the guards -- a fact I am grateful for. I do not need to speak to anyone. Not until I am at the palace. And, even then, I ignore the pleasantries from the minister who receives me and I simply hand over the prince's letters and then I depart.

The bells are ringing as I exit the royal household. A sign? A sign. Yes. I make my way towards the cathedral, running my thumb over the holy book in my pocket as I walk. A small back of children cross my path, laughing and screaming and recreating a fight from the Orichalcum Blade Tournament. Evidently, there was an equipment mishap. Someone lost an eye. I watch them take turns. Each falling to his or her knees. Each trying to clutch his or her face more dramatically, to cry out louder than the one before.

Two of them seem to be brothers. I am sure my own would like to see me...

I stop mid-step, turn around, and head back for my horse. My job here is done. There is no reason for me to stay longer.

-

Name: Cicalone
Selves: veteran of the wars, accomplished swordsman, broken-hearted bachelor, hopeless stutterer
Possessions: a holy book

Growth: 0
Decay: 0
Severence: 0
Renewal: 0
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 0

Tyrannosaurus fucked around with this message at 02:34 on Jul 22, 2019

AJ_Impy
Jun 17, 2007

SWORD OF SMATTAS. CAN YOU NOT HEAR A WORLD CRY OUT FOR JUSTICE? WHEN WILL YOU DELIVER IT?
Yam Slacker
Allegra
Turn 2


Other messengers come and go, and soon it shall be my turn to do the bidding of our prince. The routine of the caravan, of constant motion, of pitching tents and dropping them, pack and unpack, forage and trade for supplies, shall soon give way to the uncertainties of the road, though as yet we are still close to the heartland of our great realm.

I watch those who depart and who return, observing how the road weathers them, and their preparations for it. The journey seems it will be a minor hardship at worst, and i hold the faces of my treasured kin in mind as I make ready for my own duties.

Name: Allegra
Selves: an identical twin, a renowned duelling fencer, a family-oriented woman, inveterate gambler
Possessions: an embroidered sash made and gifted by my twin

Growth: 0
Decay: 0
Severence: 0
Renewal: 0
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 0

UnCO3
Feb 11, 2010

Ye gods!

College Slice

quote:

DiceBotBOTToday at 10:02
@UnCO3: 2d6 = (1+4) = 5
Corriere
Turn 3


I race into the winds this time - how fickle of them - but somehow manage to reach the city in good time. The usual curling smoke rises above the Dun Quarter as if inviting me in, and I follow, dragging my feet over broken cobblestone. There's only one thing here I'm particularly interested in seeing.

Milo shows me some scrapes and bruises from an 'adventure' among the rooftops with friends. I high-handedly admonish him in front of our parents, but lean in to get all the details when they turn away. If only they knew what he gets up to...

...And where I go. I notice a few patrons of the middle parks look askance at me, now rougher around the edges from travel, but Katerina seems not to mind. Perhaps it's because I'm easy pickings, despite the stratagems I crafted when I last rested. I play a few more games under idle conversation, but time passes too fast, so in the end I must speed off with the Prince's letters before the court closes for the day.

At last my job is done, and I return to the postal stables. As I pass gardens and lamplit inns I overhear excited talk about the final bout of the Tournament - apparently some quite unorthodox swordplay was on display. I wish I could have seen it, but... next time.

-

Name: Corriere
Selves: journeyman in chess, dutiful elder brother, peasant of little renown, distant admirer of blades
Possessions: A rough-hewn stone chess knight

Growth: 0
Decay: 0
Severance: 0
Renewal: 0
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 0

UnCO3 fucked around with this message at 23:41 on Jul 27, 2019

Tyrannosaurus
Apr 12, 2006

quote:

7:45 AM] BOTDiceBot: @Tyrannosaurus: 2d6 = (3+6) = 9
My turn ends as I reach the caravan

Cicalone
Turn 3


The quartermaster, Vitaliano, meets me with a smile and a hearty forearm shake. He is common-born. I am noble. Yet we are friends. Good friends. We served together, soldiered together, side-by-side, sword-by-sword, shield-by-shield. There is no merit by birth in the wars -- only merit earned. Something the rest of the world could take a lesson in. I've seen many good men from the Dun Quarter. I've seen even more useless ones at the head of parades.

"Safe travels?" he asks.

I nod. He knows I prefer simple yes or no questions.

"Good," he says.

I hand my letters to him. After a moment, he grins and licks his thumb and begins to unprofessionally rifle through them. He glances up at me.

"Nothing for old Vitaliano?" he says. "Nothing from... the princess?"

I shake my head. He leans back and slowly strokes his beard. Then he wags a finger at me.

"Hmmm," he says. "You are hiding it from me, aren't you?" There is a hint of a smile at the corners of his lips. "My letter. My secret letter. Give it to me." He takes a step forward. "Do not lie to old Vitaliano! Do not stand between true love! Give it to me!"

He lunges forward, grabbing at my pockets, and I laugh and push him away. He comes back again and we lock arms and we wrestle but he is no match for me. Even at his best he was no match for me. He quickly ends up in headlock and I tighten my arm around his throat, lifting him up onto his toes, waiting, squeezing, waiting, until, finally, he taps out.

"I give, I give, I give, I give, I give!

I release him.

He grins and brushes himself off. "You must have forgotten my letter," he says. "Or dropped it on the road. I will forgive you this time." He slaps my back. "Good to see you."

"Good to see you, too, mm-my ffriend."

-

Name: Cicalone
Selves: veteran of the wars, accomplished swordsman, broken-hearted bachelor, hopeless stutterer
Possessions: a holy book

Growth: 0
Decay: 0
Severence: 0
Renewal: 0
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 0

AJ_Impy
Jun 17, 2007

SWORD OF SMATTAS. CAN YOU NOT HEAR A WORLD CRY OUT FOR JUSTICE? WHEN WILL YOU DELIVER IT?
Yam Slacker
Allegra
Turn 3


quote:

DiceBot: @AJ_Impy: 2d6 = (6+1) = 7
I reach the city.

Nothing quite like the serenity of home, and a meal with the one who shares my face and with her family. Our different lives have touched our bodies in different ways, with her appearing more matronly and fuller-figured, myself more weathered and toned, but at heart we are almost as one. But the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb, and so her husband and especially my nephew are her focus now. It is a time of pleasant respite and commenting on how well Norberto is growing.

My creditors do not catch wind of my presence, or are not minded to press the matter during my brief sojourn in the city. Instead I take the opportunity to have a crack at the Orichalcum Blade, though I am bested in the early rounds by some thoroughly unorthodox swordplay by one who seemed set for the final rounds. Ah well, next time. For now I collect my letters and take my leave.

Name: Allegra
Selves: an identical twin, a renowned duelling fencer, a family-oriented woman, inveterate gambler
Possessions: an embroidered sash made and gifted by my twin

Growth: 0
Decay: 0
Severence: 0
Renewal: 0
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 0

UnCO3
Feb 11, 2010

Ye gods!

College Slice

quote:

DiceBotBOTToday at 08:41
@UnCO3: 2d6 = (6+4) = 10
Corriere
Turn 4


Again with the wind at my back. It carries the hubbub of the markets and the cheers of the arena from behind me, but ahead I see only the road and the sky.

Still the same swiftness. Before the day is done I see the Caravan on the horizon, a collection of coloured shapes that resolve into tents ant-like people wandering between. I tie up my horse and slip through the familiar spiral. Some of the guards are singing a song from distant lands that they must have learnt during one of the wars as they cook game over well-tended fires. We be soldiers three, Pardonnez-moi je vous en prie, Lately come forth of the low country, With never a penny of money...

I stay a while before delivering to the Prince's wagon. As usual, the quartermaster takes the letters and tells me to go find some food and rest, so off I go to the place that seems most welcoming. Here, good fellow, I drink to thee, Pardonnez-moi je vous en prie, To all good fellows wherever they be, With never a penny of money...

They're common like me. Not so low as to be from the Dun Quarter, but we get along well enough. Ah, well. Greta, Matteo, Elia, I hope I will see you again. In the meantime, I sleep.

-

Name: Corriere
Selves: journeyman in chess, dutiful elder brother, peasant of little renown, distant admirer of blades
Possessions: A rough-hewn stone chess knight

Growth: 0
Decay: 0
Severance: 0
Renewal: 0
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 0

UnCO3 fucked around with this message at 23:41 on Jul 27, 2019

Tyrannosaurus
Apr 12, 2006

quote:

BOTDiceBot: @Tyrannosaurus: 2d6 = (3+4) = 7
My turn ends before I reach the city. I stop for rest at an ancient, architectural wonder.
(formerly unknown land 1)

Cicalone
Turn 4


What has been written about this place?
I don't know who built the ancient Godsbridge. I don't know if anyone does. One hundred feet wide. Almost a mile in length. It spans a fierce river, difficult and dangerous to navigate by boat. The Church likes to say it was created by God, himself. Scholars insist it was an act of man -- though the knowledge used to create it has been, sadly, lost to time. It was probably both if you ask me. Inspired by the divine. Constructed by mortal hands. No one really asks me, though.

All I know is that there is surely no mightier bridge in all the world. Just as there is surely no greater city in all the world either.

Who resents this place
Any who fear the might of the city. Only traders really use it now, sure, but soldiers could be marching across it like that.

-

Some enterprising individual has built an inn in the middle of the Godsbridge. It doesn't have a name yet and parts of it seem to be hanging rather precariously off the edge but... my horse is tired, I'm tired, it's getting dark, and I don't really want to go into the city, yet, anyway... so...

The bed is cheap. As are the drinks. There are a few ex-soldiers staying here and we sing and we drink and then we do so more of both. Drunkenly, I buy a bottle for the road. A gift, I tell myself. But I don't know for whom. There was time I'd have shared it with my brother. Or my betrothed. Maybe it is a gift for myself. One I will drink alone while I watch the tournament matches when I'm back in the city tomorrow.

-

Name: Cicalone
Selves: veteran of the wars, accomplished swordsman, broken-hearted bachelor, hopeless stutterer
Possessions: a holy book, a bottle of wine

Growth: 0
Decay: 0
Severence: 0
Renewal: 1
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 0

Tyrannosaurus fucked around with this message at 16:13 on Jul 24, 2019

AJ_Impy
Jun 17, 2007

SWORD OF SMATTAS. CAN YOU NOT HEAR A WORLD CRY OUT FOR JUSTICE? WHEN WILL YOU DELIVER IT?
Yam Slacker
Allegra
Turn 4


Back to the Caravan, back to the prince. Protocol and procedure, my precious dispatches to the quartermaster. It pleases me that I've made good time, considering the distance, though this might not be the case going forward, as the Caravan inevitably does.

As I turn in for the night, it seems Corriere is also in camp, so I take the opportunity to question him.

"Ah, Corriere! How are you holding up? How are things here? Anything interesting on your travels?"

Name: Allegra
Selves: an identical twin, a renowned duelling fencer, a family-oriented woman, inveterate gambler
Possessions: an embroidered sash made and gifted by my twin

Growth: 0
Decay: 0
Severence: 0
Renewal: 0
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 0

UnCO3
Feb 11, 2010

Ye gods!

College Slice
Corriere

Ah, one of the noble-born - Allegra, a Knight perhaps, a warrior.

“Good enough, good enough. The lands pass quickly under my horse’s hooves, and the Caravan is a good host. Plenty of song and food. Good rest after such breakneck travel. The places I’ve been between, they all blur together.

And you? Are you missing home? Did you compete in the, ah, the Tournament? I would have made it there, but only heard the news about the final fight.”

The firelight flickers and smoke rises between us. The soldiers fade away to sleep.

-

Name: Corriere
Selves: journeyman in chess, dutiful elder brother, peasant of little renown, distant admirer of blades
Possessions: A rough-hewn stone chess knight

Growth: 0
Decay: 0
Severance: 0
Renewal: 0
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 0

UnCO3 fucked around with this message at 23:40 on Jul 27, 2019

AJ_Impy
Jun 17, 2007

SWORD OF SMATTAS. CAN YOU NOT HEAR A WORLD CRY OUT FOR JUSTICE? WHEN WILL YOU DELIVER IT?
Yam Slacker
Allegra

A pleasant enough conversation, talking shop with a fellow messenger.

"Oh, I can't complain. I will always miss them, but they gave me a sendoff of good memories last I was there. I tried the tourney, but was knocked out in the early round. Unorthodox swordplay is putting it lightly. I'll do better next time."


Name: Allegra
Selves: an identical twin, a renowned duelling fencer, a family-oriented woman, inveterate gambler
Possessions: an embroidered sash made and gifted by my twin

Growth: 0
Decay: 0
Severence: 0
Renewal: 0
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 0

UnCO3
Feb 11, 2010

Ye gods!

College Slice

quote:

DiceBotBOTToday at 21:39
@UnCO3: 2d6k1 = (5+2) = 5
Land 1, an ancient architectural wonder
Corriere
Turn 5

The land passes slower beneath me, and the wind blows against my face. Perhaps it's spiteful, or else stubborn. Well, it's not so bad. I still make it to the Godsbridge, where there now seems to be an inn perched precariously on one side.

quote:

DiceBotBOTToday at 22:12
@UnCO3: 1d6 = (6) = 6
When I stop by to rest I find the inside a little dusty - the same sandy colour as the bridge's stone. The proprieters, by the looks of it, have been digging into the bridge's stone itself, confident in the strength of the stone and the bridge alike, and using the quarried material to build new annexes to their inn (and build down into the holes to create wine cellars). I wouldn't be too worried if I believed that this bridge really was built by gods. Well, it's not my concern. I drink and sing with some ex-soldiers I meet there - the same songs I learnt at the Caravan. It's a good time all around, and the new rooms and storeys the masons and carpenters are putting in mean more guests, bigger crowds, louder songs, and, unfortunately, more demand at the taps.

Night falls and I go to the stables, leaving the carousers behind. The murmur of jolly conversation from inside and the tables outside keeps me company, but I must wake before the sun and leave with the dawn. Perhaps this time I will be able to see the Tournament.

-

Name: Corriere
Selves: journeyman in chess, dutiful elder brother, peasant of little renown, distant admirer of blades
Possessions: A rough-hewn stone chess knight

Growth: 0
Decay: 0
Severance: 0
Renewal: 1
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 0

UnCO3 fucked around with this message at 23:40 on Jul 27, 2019

AJ_Impy
Jun 17, 2007

SWORD OF SMATTAS. CAN YOU NOT HEAR A WORLD CRY OUT FOR JUSTICE? WHEN WILL YOU DELIVER IT?
Yam Slacker

quote:

DiceBot: @UnCO3: 2d6k1 = (1+2) = 2
All right, new land. It is a barren, beautiful gully. (formerly unknown land 4.)

Allegra
Turn 5


What is eating this place?

A trickle of a river has carved its way through colourful, striated strata of varying stone, consuming its way ever downwards with this winding, tiered notch etched into the barren lands I traverse. Little grows among the rocks, but I can find shelter here, and refill my waterskins.

Who is studying this place?
It is clear I am not the only sojourner in these lands. I glimpse in passing someone painstakingly brushing away at the layers of exposed rock, revealing stones that could almost be bones if you look at them the right way. Is there some potency to them, or some ancient knowledge, perhaps? I raise my empty hand in peaceful greeting, but do not disturb their labours.

My curiosity gets the better of me. A considerable stretch past where they work, I happen on a rock halfway up that could almost be a strange black lizard skull embedded in the surrounding stone. A fascinating curio which I tuck into my pack.


Name: Allegra
Selves: an identical twin, a renowned duelling fencer, a family-oriented woman, inveterate gambler
Possessions: an embroidered sash made and gifted by my twin, a tiny lizard skull of stone and in stone

Growth: 0
Decay: 0
Severence: 0
Renewal: 0
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 1

AJ_Impy fucked around with this message at 00:16 on Aug 3, 2019

Tyrannosaurus
Apr 12, 2006

quote:

BOTDiceBot: @UnCO3: 2d6k1 = (6+3) = 6
I reach the city.
Cicalone
Turn 5


I see them before they see me. My beloved. My brother. They are walking, hand-in-hand, laughing, not a care in the world, the sun ever shining on their smiling faces, unknowing and uncaring of the sacrifices I made while they stayed in the city with their damned dalliances. It makes my blood boil. Today is the day! Today I will let them know just how wrong they were to me. I adjust my shirt and pull my cloak around and prepare to march yet...

My tongue. My stupid, foolish, idiotic tongue. It seems to grow in my mouth. Pushing past my teeth. Filling my cheeks. And backwards, too, into my throat. Cutting off my air. With a strangled cry, I turn down a side street before they can see me.

I punch myself in the face.

I hate them.

I hate this bottle of wine I know in my heart that I bought for them. I should just pour it out. Or shatter it against the wall.

Or break it over my brother's skull...

"Excuse me?"

I keep walking.

"Excuse me, sir? Sir? Excuse me?"

I turn. A boy with a whiff of a mustache is trailing me. From the Dun, by the looks of his clothes. He stops when I stop.

"Excuse me, sir," he says, "but are you one of the prince's riders?"

I stare at him for a moment. Then I nod. And his smile practically explodes across his face.

"My brother is a rider, too! I am sure you know him! He is Domino, called Corriere on behalf of his great speed. He is the fastest of the prince's riders, I am sure of it. You know my brother, yes?"

Vaguely. But I nod. The boy eagerly prattles off tales of Corriere's "exploits", starstruck, full of brotherly love and admiration. And it is... nice. To be honest. To see that. When he stops to take a breath I present him with the bottle of wine.

"He g-gave this to me. Ffor you."

The boy's eyes widen like saucer plates. I guess it was an expensive bottle. At least as far as the Dun Quarter is concerned.

quote:

BOTDiceBot: @Tyrannosaurus: 1d6 = (1) = 1
Milo remains more-or-less as he was -- though his desire to imitate his brother has grown.

-

I stop outside the cathedral and wait to listen to the bells.

-

I watch a group of children re-enact the latest Orichalcum Blade Tournament. It seems far less noble, they way they are doing it. Far bloodier. But perhaps it is now.

-

I deliver the prince's letters and I depart.

-

Name: Cicalone
Selves: veteran of the wars, accomplished swordsman, broken-hearted bachelor, hopeless stutterer
Possessions: a holy book

Growth: 0
Decay: 0
Severence: 0
Renewal: 0
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 0

Tyrannosaurus fucked around with this message at 17:12 on Aug 9, 2019

UnCO3
Feb 11, 2010

Ye gods!

College Slice

quote:

DiceBotBOT
@UnCO3: 2d6k1 = (1+6) = 6
I reach the city.
Corriere
Turn 6


I hear the city bells before I even cross the rest of the way to the gates, but they sound different somehow. Clean and pure, perfect. When I make small-talk with the gate guards I bring up the bells and they say they've been cleaned - mended - returned to the way they were before. Before when? Before any of us were alive, we suppose. Apparently the hierophants didn't like the character that the dust and dirt and little cracks added to the resonance, found it insulting to the grace of God. I don't really care, but I suppose some people do.

quote:

DiceBotBOT
@UnCO3: 1d6 = (4) = 4
A Tie has Changed (Renewal): the Church Bells have been cleaned and mended and don't quite sound the same.
I'm early enough to see some of the early rounds of the new Tournament - a match of flashing rapiers and another of a heavy, foreign broadsword and a light little thing, no more than a dagger. Brutal skill was on display in ample amounts, with the same old mix of bravado and mutual respect. Only the finest warriors join the Tournament, after all. Everyone here knows they're fighting the very best.

I take my leave when the day's duels end, and deliver the Prince's letters - a light bundle - and then return to the middle parks where I find Katerina unsympathetically breaking down some poor player's strategy. That's what you get when you underestimate, stranger. Still, I estimate her skill with complete accuracy and I fare no better. At least she's kinder to me, probably because I actually manage to catch her by surprise a few times. We sit and watch some of the masters play before I have to go.

Milo is sitting on the wall when I get home. There's a new glint in his eye. The way he looks at me, it's like he's sizing me up, seeing how I work, how I tick, how he can become like me. I don't know what to think, but I play along anyway, today telling him a little of how to ride a horse, how to dig your stirrups in and adjust so delicately or swiftly that you could make your steed turn with the earth or on a coin, that sort of thing. He doesn't have experience, he can't put it into practice yet, but something tells me he will sooner or later... sooner.

That thought puts me in a sombre mood as I make my way back to the postal stables, shake the coal-dust and grey muck of the Dun Quarter off my boots, and sit down in the hay. One of the other messengers is here - I half-recognise them - and I give them a nod, then lay down for the night.

-

Name: Corriere
Selves: journeyman in chess, dutiful elder brother, peasant of little renown, distant admirer of blades
Possessions: A rough-hewn stone chess knight

Growth: 0
Decay: 0
Severance: 0
Renewal: 0
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 0

AJ_Impy
Jun 17, 2007

SWORD OF SMATTAS. CAN YOU NOT HEAR A WORLD CRY OUT FOR JUSTICE? WHEN WILL YOU DELIVER IT?
Yam Slacker
Allegra
Turn 6


quote:

2d6k1 = (1+3) = 3
I reach the Godsbridge.

Ahh, the Godsbridge. Truly a marvel, and to reach it is to know the city is near. I take a welcome respite at the inn, which is bustling and jolly. I settle in and think that soon I will see my kin, and do my duty.on behalf of the Prince. but here and now, the missives are safe, the mood is pleasant, and the food is good.

quote:

BOTDiceBot: @AJ_Impy: 1d6 = (2) = 2
Who or what is healing here?

I come across Kerinna, a friendly rival, convalescing from injuries sustained in the Orichalcum Blade Tournament held recently. Her recovery is going well, and we while away pleasant hours talking shop and gossiping on former opponents.

When it is time to continue, I take nothing beyond my replenishment, leave nothing bar the innkeep's due, and leave things as they are.

Name: Allegra
Selves: an identical twin, a renowned duelling fencer, a family-oriented woman, inveterate gambler
Possessions: an embroidered sash made and gifted by my twin, a tiny lizard skull of stone and in stone

Growth: 0
Decay: 0
Severence: 0
Renewal: 1
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 1

AJ_Impy fucked around with this message at 17:20 on Aug 14, 2019

Tyrannosaurus
Apr 12, 2006

quote:

BOTDiceBot: @UnCO3: 2d6k1 = (6+2) = 6
I come across a row of timeworn obelisks

Cicalone
Turn 6


How does this place separate itself from the world?

In what way does it not? The obelisks are tall where even the trees stand stunted. Starkly white in a sea of greens, yellows, browns. Sharply pointed where the land is soft and rolling. And down around the base are symbols carved out in the old tongue -- which I recognize but can not read. I sit there for a while, looking at my holy book and then back at the symbols but I don't find any matches.

There are eight obelisks in all but only seven remain standing. The third one has fallen across the road. Years ago by the looks of it. I suppose it was too much effort to try and move it or to carve through it. Instead, the path simply cuts to the right for a few meters and then returns to normal.

Why does this place exist?

It's probably a memorial to heroes long forgotten. I have to imagine if it was some ancient heathen thing we would have destroyed it already. I decide to stay for the evening and pray over the souls of those lost to time and memory.

-

Name: Cicalone
Selves: veteran of the wars, accomplished swordsman, broken-hearted bachelor, hopeless stutterer
Possessions: a holy book

Growth: 0
Decay: 0
Severance: 0
Renewal: 0
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 1

UnCO3
Feb 11, 2010

Ye gods!

College Slice

quote:

DiceBotBOT
@UnCO3: 2d6k1 = (6+3) = 6
I arrive at the row of timeworn obelisks.
Corriere
Turn 7


I find myself out alone under the stars for the first time, despite the wind-cutting speed I rode with. It’s a strange feeling. I’m far from home, seeking shelter in the shadow of one of these stark white pillars, or towers, or whatever they are. They’re like turrets without a wall, scattered skirmishers, something like that. I wonder if there’s an enemy battle-line of equally-matched standing stone soldiers elsewhere.

Somehow this place calls to me. I have ideas I wouldn’t normally have. Ideas I don’t have time to have. I need to lay out my bed-roll, refill my canteen, and start a fire to cook my rations, and then… I see the dancers, as I check the dusk sky and consider the time I have left to prepare for the night.

quote:

DiceBotBOT
@UnCO3: 1d6 = (1) = 1
Who or what is wasted on this place?
There’s a figure dancing on top of each pillar, except for the fallen one. In the end, I only saw them at night. They looked like nobles or heathens, only they’re neither. The way they danced was beautiful, and cold, and they vanished in the moonlight, only to reappear when another cloud crossed its face and blocked its beams.

Why do they dance out here where there’s nobody to appreciate them?

It seemed as though they could not bear to be here, from what I could make out of the expressions they wore. And then, come sunrise, they were gone.

I chip a small piece off of the fallen pillar. Perhaps I’ll carve it into a fine knight one day.

-

Name: Corriere
Selves: journeyman in chess, dutiful elder brother, peasant of little renown, distant admirer of blades
Possessions: A rough-hewn stone chess knight; a small fragment of white obelisk stone

Growth: 0
Decay: 0
Severance: 0
Renewal: 0
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 1

Tyrannosaurus
Apr 12, 2006
Cicalone
Turn 7

quote:

DiceBotBOT @UnCO3: 2d6k1 = (6+3) = 6
I arrive at the caravan

There is a... smell to the caravan. Of horse. And sweat. And travel. Of impromptu meals and hard work. It reminds me of the wars. Pleasantly, I might add. Men died, yes. I could have died, sure. But things made sense. They were simple. Do this, do that, do this. Things are simple now, too, I suppose. Deliver letters. Ride. Receive letters. Ride. I can do that. Not so different from the wars. Just less chance of dying.

I share a bowl of soup with Vitaliano. I tell him I have a letter for him.

"Really?" he asks. "From who?"

"The p-princess," I say.

His eyes widen. "No!" he says. "No! No! Did you really mention me to her? Did you actually see her? Is she as beautiful as everyone says? I've heard she can shame the moon's brightness with her smile and turn foreboding clouds away with but a sigh."

I reach into my pocket and pretend to pull out a letter. When I reveal my empty hand, Vitaliano scowls and thumps me in the chest with his fist.

"Very funny," he says. "I guess you have a lot of time to think up jokes now, huh?"

"A-and yyou... d-d-druh.. .druh... dream..." The words catch in my throat. Vitaliano glances at me and continues eating his soup. He understands. He is patient. After a minute, my tongue returns to my control. "And you dream all day of princesses you'll never know.."

"That I do," he says with a nod. "That I do."

-

Name: Cicalone
Selves: veteran of the wars, accomplished swordsman, broken-hearted bachelor, hopeless stutterer
Possessions: a holy book

Growth: 0
Decay: 0
Severance: 0
Renewal: 0
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 1

Tyrannosaurus fucked around with this message at 03:47 on Aug 19, 2019

AJ_Impy
Jun 17, 2007

SWORD OF SMATTAS. CAN YOU NOT HEAR A WORLD CRY OUT FOR JUSTICE? WHEN WILL YOU DELIVER IT?
Yam Slacker
Allegra
Turn 7


I reach the city.

As I approach the city, I pass Corriere as he departs, offering a friendly salute as I call out "Godspeed" as we are momentarily in earshot.

quote:

Assigning Renewal to the Dun Quarter
1d6 = (5) = 5

Past the gates, I find my route approaching the Dun Quarter. What was a downtrodden slum is now abuzz with new construction, renovated houses and people working away at their dwellings with renewed hope invigorating timeworn faces. Some wealthy benefactor has channelled resources into uplifting the district, giving work and wages to the destitute and raising up proper housing where once were shacks and hovels.

I chat about it excitedly with my twin over her delicious reunion repast. It turns out the most recent winner of the Orichalcum Blade tourney grew up there, and wanted to ensure the miseries of their youth would not carry on to another generation. My creditors had been asking after me, but that had been a while ago, and I needed to gather the wherewithal to pay them. Norberto filled my heart with joy, he is becoming quite the young gentleman.

Name: Allegra
Selves: an identical twin, a renowned duelling fencer, a family-oriented woman, inveterate gambler
Possessions: an embroidered sash made and gifted by my twin, a tiny lizard skull of stone and in stone

Growth: 0
Decay: 0
Severence: 0
Renewal: 0
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 1

UnCO3
Feb 11, 2010

Ye gods!

College Slice

quote:

DiceBotBOT
@UnCO3: 2d6k1 = (1+6) = 6
I arrive at the Caravan
Corriere
Turn 8


I give a cursory wave to a rider crossing me as I draw close to the Caravan – it's one of the nobles again – and I shout a short, sharp “Hail!”, and then they’re gone, vanished into the wind.

The Prince’s wagon is faced away from the City when I arrive. I suppose he doesn’t want to upon the place that exiled him even one last time before its mighty towers finally fall below the horizon. Even a man in prison – and all the wide world is now his prison – has to exercise what freedom he has to stay sane. Well, I know this from neighbours and friends, of course.

After that, the same ritual. I hand off the letters to the quartermaster. He seems melancholic – not my business. Then off to the soldiers again. We sing rousing choruses and drink bad wine, they far heavier than me, and then the night moves in cold and blue and they succumb to sleep around the fire. Well, I wrap my riding cloak around them, of course.

Somewhere close, a man in an alpine cap sits and puffs his pipe and hums softly and looks up at the sky and imagines unreachable constellations... those dancers have me in a funny mood. I look at the fragment of white stone in my hand, and it stares back at me, so I chip away until the knight inside breaks free - and there I have it, two simple knights of stone now. I'll play them against Katerina when I get back.

-

Name: Corriere
Selves: journeyman in chess, dutiful elder brother, peasant of little renown, distant admirer of blades
Possessions: A rough-hewn stone chess knight; A rough-hewn chess knight of white obelisk stone

Growth: 0
Decay: 0
Severance: 0
Renewal: 0
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 1

AJ_Impy
Jun 17, 2007

SWORD OF SMATTAS. CAN YOU NOT HEAR A WORLD CRY OUT FOR JUSTICE? WHEN WILL YOU DELIVER IT?
Yam Slacker
Allegra
Turn 8


As I ride on, I pass my twin's brother-in-law laden with another tranche of our Prince's correspondence. I smile warmly and acknowledge our kinship, both through familial ties and our common duty. "Brother."

quote:

2d6k1 = (6+3) = 6

I reach the obelisks.

Rolling Clarity posted:

2d6 = (1+5) = 6
The land has changed significantly, increasing clarity

The mighty pillars of stone are visible from afar, but as I draw near a veritable settlement of tents and temporary structures has sprung up in proximity. Wise folk, seekers after knowledge, ascending scaffolds to transcribe the carvings on each stele, to be translated and transliterated by those below. The true meaning of what is written here is in the process of being deciphered, and it seems soon there will be one less mystery.

They greet me amicably, and I trade news for a space at a hearth, sharing bread evening and morning. Not far now to the Caravan. I leave them be.

Name: Allegra
Selves: an identical twin, a renowned duelling fencer, a family-oriented woman, inveterate gambler
Possessions: an embroidered sash made and gifted by my twin, a tiny lizard skull of stone and in stone

Growth: 0
Decay: 0
Severence: 0
Renewal: 0
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 2

AJ_Impy fucked around with this message at 12:00 on Aug 18, 2019

Tyrannosaurus
Apr 12, 2006
Cicalone
Turn 8


Allegra is gone before I realize she is not my beloved. I ride on in a daze.

quote:

BOTDiceBot: @UnCO3: 2d6k1 = (1+4) = 4
I reach winding cliff path.

What is the most beautiful thing here?
To trudge up or down the cliff path is to stare at the monotony of brown dirt and gray stone. But to stop, to take a moment, to stare out into the distance? You can see for miles. And it is breathtaking. And when the sky clear-- as it is today-- you can see the city!

At least, I think it is the city. It is still very far away. Nevertheless, the view is incredible.

What died here recently?
A man. And his horse. I first see the evidence of their fall. A disturbance in the earth. A breakaway where man and beast together crept too close to the edge and the edge gave way. I wonder if the man was distracted by the view. The path is wide but a cliff is still a cliff... I wonder if that's a bad way to go. Enchanted by beauty. Happy. Then a moment of panic. A sharp and sudden end. Did he even have enough time to realize what was happening?

Probably.

I wonder if the man was one of the prince's riders. I realize, having had that thought, I now cannot go any further without making sure. So I tie my horse to a dead tree stump and carefully begin to climb down to the corpses. I keep my eyes set on the monotony of brown dirt and gray stone. Thinking of nothing other than the next handhold. The next solid place to put my boot.

-

The man is not one of the prince's. He is... I don't know. I rifle through this pockets. But not as a thief, mind you! I'm merely trying to ascertain his identity. Yet he holds no letters. Nothing that would tell me his name. Hardly any money, either. A few loose coins. He could have been a farmer. A bandit. A good man. A bad one. I have no idea.

I bury him all the same. It seems the right thing to do. The ground is hard, though, and I only have my hands and a stone to help me. So the grave is shallow. I do nothing with the horse. I don't have the strength or the time. I hope whatever predators come for the meat leave the man where he lies.

Before I go, I rip out a page from my holy book. I leave it under the stone I dug the grave with. An impromptu marker.

Be at peace, stranger.

Be at peace.

-

Name: Cicalone
Selves: veteran of the wars, accomplished swordsman, broken-hearted bachelor, hopeless stutterer
Possessions: a holy book missing a page

Growth: 0
Decay: 0
Severance: 1
Renewal: 0
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 1

Tyrannosaurus
Apr 12, 2006
Cicalone
Turn 9

quote:

BOTSidekick: @UnCO3: 2d6k1 = (1+6) = 6
I reach the city.

I am stopped in the streets by bandits. They don't look like bandits. They are dressed in fine clothing. They wear boots that shine and buttons that glimmer. They smell of perfumed air and red wine and easy living. They call themselves creditors. But they are bandits all the same. And they should know not to interfere with one of the prince's riders. I say as much.

"That's where you are wrong," a man responds. The leader, I suppose. "See, one of you owes one of us quite a large sum of money. And the way we figure, that means you owe us that money. You know, on their behalf."

I try to argue but my tongue because twisted. The same wretched syllable gets stuck and won't roll over. It just repeats. Over. And over. And over. The bandits laugh. They mock me. They mock my speech. "W-w-w-hat was that? I c-c-can't h-h-hear you!" It wounds me.

Perhaps it is for the best that one pulls out a knife. I've always been better with my hands anyway.

I am stabbed, of course. There are four of them and only one of me. But I'll live. And one of them will not. One of the lackeys. He'll die. He probably already has. The leader will live, though. He crawls away from me on his hands and knees, leaving a trail of blood on the cobblestone street. I pick up his knife. It is a fine blade and the man's ear is attached by such a thin bit of tissue. After I remove it, I hold his flesh to my lips.

"C-can you hear me now?" I ask.

The answer seems to be no.

I drop the knife and the ear and I leave the bandits to bleed.

quote:

BOTDiceBot: @Tyrannosaurus: 1d6 = (5) = 5
A Tie has changed (Severance): creditors have been injured and are swearing revenge on the next rider they see

I go to my brother's house. He frets over my wounds, cleaning them, washing them, carefully wrapping them after sewing them closed with needle and wire. He is a gentle man. He has a healer's touch. My beloved stands in the doorway, watching me. Watching us. I notice Norberto is wrapped around her leg, halfway hiding his face behind his skirts. I smile at him. Beckon him into the kitchen.

"I'm okay," I say to him. "It is okay. It is not deep, this wound. Come, come look. It's ffine."

My beloved is quick to pull him away and they disappear deeper into the house.

"She can't hide him from blood," I say to my brother. "She should not teach him to fear the sight of blood."

My brother shrugs. "She is strong-willed," he says.

"It's unhealthy," I say.

I stay for dinner. Later, when it is just me and Noberto, I undo my bandages. I show him his father's handiwork. The fine stitching. I let him poke the surrounded skin. He oohs and ahhs at the discoloration. He asks me if I am stabbed often. I tell him no. I say that hopefully this will be the last time.

-

The bells don't sound right. I worry I am feverish...

-

I stay in the city a few days longer than I should. Waiting for the "fever" to break. For the sound of the bells to return to normal. Eventually, I have to accept that it isn't my hearing. That there is no fever. That it is, perhaps, the bells themselves.

Laypeople aren't really allowed in the belltower. But this is the church of my youth. As a boy, I climbed up there all the time. I know the secret ways.

I discover it is the bells. Cleaned, they've been. I don't know why this is so offensive to me. But it is. I place my hand on the cool brass. The oils of countless generations of human hands have been removed. Cleaned. For what reason? I don't know. But it has changed the sound. None for the better. I stare down at the city from on high.

It is changing, too.

None for the better.

quote:

I lose a tie to the city.

--

Name: Cicalone
Selves: veteran of the wars, accomplished swordsman, broken-hearted bachelor, hopeless stutterer
Possessions: a holy book missing a page

Growth: 0
Decay: 0
Severance: 0
Renewal: 0
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 1

Tyrannosaurus fucked around with this message at 00:36 on Aug 23, 2019

UnCO3
Feb 11, 2010

Ye gods!

College Slice

quote:

DiceBotBOT
@UnCO3: 2d6k1 = (2+1) = 2
I reach the 8th unknown land, a silent, vaulted forest
Corriere
Turn 9


The wind dies down as soon as I cross under the first bough. It’s like I’ve crossed into another world – trees as thick across as a house, separated by acres, taller than towers, and they wear their leaves like crowns. Each keeps to their own kingdom and the path leisurely winds between them across the rich forest floor. In fact, the whole place is painted gold by sunlight that clips the horizon and lights up the Western sides of the trees.

Between the still air and the soft earth, nothing makes the slightest sound.

-

What is written about this place?

Katerina sometimes talks about the books she’s read, and apparently she has an impressive library. One of them wrote of a vaulted, cathedralic forest that was perfect for painting – the great painter Niccolo Cappelletti said that nothing moved, nothing changed, nothing disturbed him at work. I don't know much about cathedrals, but if I had to guess, they're pale imitations of this place rather than the other way around.

-

What time is it always, here?

The day is so long here, travel so tiring somehow. My body aches to lay down, but the sun is still on the horizon. I shouldn’t be this tired only by dusk. Eventually I sleep, as best I can, shaded by a tree, eyes agitated by the light.

It’s only when I wake that I see – the light is still on the West side of the trees.

The day is long here, the dusk eternal.

I leave as soon as I’m able. I don’t want to end up in some genius’ painting. Homeward, then.

-

Name: Corriere
Selves: journeyman in chess, dutiful elder brother, peasant of little renown, distant admirer of blades
Possessions: A rough-hewn stone chess knight; A rough-hewn chess knight of white obelisk stone

Growth: 1
Decay: 0
Severance: 0
Renewal: 0
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 1

AJ_Impy
Jun 17, 2007

SWORD OF SMATTAS. CAN YOU NOT HEAR A WORLD CRY OUT FOR JUSTICE? WHEN WILL YOU DELIVER IT?
Yam Slacker
Allegra
Turn 9


Approaching the caravan, I cross paths with the outgoing rider, and offer him a friendly salute before pressing on to my destination.


I reach the caravan..

The terrain here makes it easy to find the caravan, the tracks of the massive wagons, princely and provision, the hoofprints of oxen and horse, the tromp of human feet alongside, it is a veritable road carved into the loam. Soon, I arrive. It is currently on the move, and I salute the rearguard, smiling at Dorigo and Esteban entrusted with that duty, glad to be amongst fellow travellers and comrades once more. I pass between the wagons bearing the tents, their contents, and the supplies needed for the welfare of all, drawing near to the vanguard of the caravan in motion, the wagon of the Prince himself. After securing my mount, I am helped aboard, the constant rumble of motion all around me as I approach our beloved patron to hand his aide the correspondence.

The prince greets me, and engages me in conversation over what I have seen on the journey. He charges me with a task:

The Prince posted:

"Find for me a wordless song."

He also asks of me a question,

The Prince posted:

"Who is the most beautiful of this loyal retinue, and is their beauty is being wasted out here in the wilderness?"

To which I replied, "My prince, there are faces I have not seen since last I was here, and others who are absent in your service, precluding me from taking time to merely check on those in the caravan. Thus, I must judge only those whom I have seen since my arrival, and given that I count you and they as exceedingly handsome, that leaves myself as qualifying for the epithet beautiful. and no, I would gladly serve you until my beauty was a memory, or spent well in your service. Besides that, I am but one of a pair of twins, and my beloved sister remains in the city, to look upon her is to know me and vice versa."

The prince seemed pleased with my wordplay, and seemed amenable to granting a boon once I returned with his wordless song.

Name: Allegra
Selves: an identical twin, a renowned duelling fencer, a family-oriented woman, inveterate gambler
Possessions: an embroidered sash made and gifted by my twin, a tiny lizard skull of stone and in stone

Growth: 0
Decay: 0
Severence: 0
Renewal: 0
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 2

AJ_Impy
Jun 17, 2007

SWORD OF SMATTAS. CAN YOU NOT HEAR A WORLD CRY OUT FOR JUSTICE? WHEN WILL YOU DELIVER IT?
Yam Slacker
Allegra
Turn 10


quote:

2d6k1 = (5+5) = 5

I reach the obelisks.

Rolling clarity posted:

3d6 = (1+5+2) = 8
The land has changed significantly, increasing clarity

The knowledge-seekers recognise me and are still amicable. It is clear that the structures around the ancient obelisks are giving way to more permanent establishments, almost a village at the foot of the veritable monuments. Great success has been had in their task, and small plinths containing translations of the writings on each face of the spires are under construction, each positioned in front of the relevant facet. I congratulate their progress, and converse with them, touching on songs that they know, all of which have words.

Thus, I depart empty-handed but on good terms.

Name: Allegra
Selves: an identical twin, a renowned duelling fencer, a family-oriented woman, inveterate gambler
Possessions: an embroidered sash made and gifted by my twin, a tiny lizard skull of stone and in stone

Growth: 0
Decay: 0
Severence: 0
Renewal: 0
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 3

UnCO3
Feb 11, 2010

Ye gods!

College Slice
Corriere
Turn 10

quote:

DiceBotBOT
@UnCO3: 2d6k1 = (1+4) = 4
I reach the 4th land, the barren, beautiful gully

quote:

DiceBotBOT
@UnCO3: 2d6k1 = (4+6) = 6
This place has changed; Clarity has increased.
Some kind of skeleton creature stalks through the rock here, half-exposed by someone’s diligent hand – the hammers and brushes they must have used are still lying around. The worker themself is nowhere to be seen, though, nor do I hear brushing or hammering, though there is the faint, but curious ringing of a bell… I follow it around a bend in the gully and find a pile of rocks in the shade, out of which threads a quivering string tied to a little ringing bell hanging from a post.

Good God.

A while later, I’ve dug a man out from under the pile. The setting sun catches the many-coloured dust that stains his workman’s clothes.

-

Over the fire.

I ask him who he is, out here alone.

He tells me in broken words that his name is Mill, Dr. Mill, and he was here to study the bones he’d heard of – but he’d gone a little mad, out here alone, with nothing but the odd rider passing by for company. He assures me it’s not the contagious kind of madness.

I ask who buried him so cruelly. Bandits? Hinterfolk? I’ve heard scholars can be vicious to their rivals, too.

He laughs and tells me no, he buried himself. He wanted to feel like a fossil, to know what it would feel like to be locked under the ground for many thousands of years – thousands of thousands, if the ‘new theories’ he’s read are correct. The bell was a trick he took from his own country, where they sometimes bury their dead alive by accident…?

I don’t quite know what to ask.

It was lonely, he says.

-

I couldn’t guess at his age, but he reminds me a little of my brother. That spark in his eye. He looks a little gaunt, so I prepare a simple meal mixing my rations with his and make sure he gets to sleep well. He waves off my concern – “I’m through to the other side, you see”. I don’t, but he laughs off the unease and thanks me for my concern. Thankfully he’s still there come morning, and I depart for home.

-

Because I'm a dutiful elder brother, I change this Land.

Name: Corriere
Selves: journeyman in chess, dutiful elder brother, peasant of little renown, distant admirer of blades
Possessions: A rough-hewn stone chess knight; A rough-hewn chess knight of white obelisk stone

Growth: 1
Decay: 0
Severance: 0
Renewal: 0
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 2

Tyrannosaurus
Apr 12, 2006
Cicalone
Turn 10


I cross paths with another rider. I don't know if they are the one with the bandit problem but... "Money," I call out. Perhaps that will be enough.

quote:

BOTDiceBot: @UnCO3: 2d6k1 = (5+2) = 5
I stop at the cliff path.

quote:

BOTDiceBot: @Tyrannosaurus: 1d6 = (6) = 6
This place has enormously transformed; Severance has increased.

I get off my horse and wipe my brow. A rock slide wiped out path. I'll have to find another way up.

--

Name: Cicalone
Selves: veteran of the wars, accomplished swordsman, broken-hearted bachelor, hopeless stutterer
Possessions: a holy book missing a page

Growth: 0
Decay: 0
Severance: 1
Renewal: 0
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 1

AJ_Impy
Jun 17, 2007

SWORD OF SMATTAS. CAN YOU NOT HEAR A WORLD CRY OUT FOR JUSTICE? WHEN WILL YOU DELIVER IT?
Yam Slacker
Allegra
Turn 11


I pass my twin's kin once more. 'Money', they cry. Have my creditors been causing problems? Moving against my family? "Understood." I reply. though I will need to get to the bottom of this more thoroughly.

quote:

2d6k1 = (4+3) = 4

I reach the second unknown land: A Formerly Bustling Tradepost.

This place used to be a thriving centre of trade, a lively hub where river traffic would transfer their cargoes to traverse the road over the Godsbridge and into the city. Just one problem: There's no river any more. There's a foul-smelling, marshy ditch along its old course, but that's less navigable than the terrain it divides.

quote:

What here is just a dream?

Any hope for this place restoring its former glories. The inn, its facade cracked and faded, still gets some custom, but even this is dwindling, the Tavern at the Godsbridge far more successful these days.

quote:

Who resents this place?

At the Inn, I see a withered, wizened old man with a permanent scowl, dressed in a faded uniform long stripped of pomp. The Innkeep confides that he is Petrucio the Harbourmaster, a hereditary position pinning him here for the sake of his father's memory. He does not seem best pleased by this.

Come the morrow, I take my leave and nothing else. This place is depressing.

Name: Allegra
Selves: an identical twin, a renowned duelling fencer, a family-oriented woman, inveterate gambler
Possessions: an embroidered sash made and gifted by my twin, a tiny lizard skull of stone and in stone

Growth: 0
Decay: 1
Severence: 0
Renewal: 0
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 3

Tyrannosaurus
Apr 12, 2006
Cicalone
Turn 11

quote:

BOTDiceBot: @UnCO3: 2d6k1 = (5+4) = 5
I reach a field of flowers...

The field is hidden to me at first. The preceding land is rather hilly and it only when I cross over the final one that I am met with a sight of astonishing beauty. Flowers. Thousands of them. In seemingly all colors. Red and yellow and orange and pink and peach and purple and on and on and on. It is more like a painting than a real place. I stop my horse for a moment, take off my cap, and just look at it all.

Then the wind shifts.

Rotting meat. The gross, overwhelming stench of rotting meat. I quickly cover my nose and look around. It smells like a herd of animals has been slaughtered and left, uneaten, exposed to the sun. But I see neither the animals themselves nor what could have possibly killed them. Bandits? I can not be certain I am not in danger. I spur my horse forward, my hand on my weapon, my gaze ever vigilant.

What is feeding here? What protects this place?
I don't understand what is happening until it is too late. As I ride through the flowers, I am suddenly and viciously confronted by a furious flurry of insects. Stinging gnats. Biting flies. Moving in thick, black clumps through the air. They attack my eyes. My ears. My nose. My horse. Loyal as she is, she almost kicks me off as she is assaulted by the swarm. Half-blind and near mad with pain, we flee. As fast as she can take us away.

An eternity later, we are free. Covered in bites. Flower petals stuck in clothing and hair. But free. As I peel the petals off, I realize the origins of the foul stench.

The flowers.

They aren't sweet like in the city.

They stink.

--

Name: Cicalone
Selves: veteran of the wars, accomplished swordsman, broken-hearted bachelor, hopeless stutterer
Possessions: a holy book missing a page

Growth: 0
Decay: 1
Severance: 1
Renewal: 0
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 1

UnCO3
Feb 11, 2010

Ye gods!

College Slice
Corriere
Turn 11

quote:

DiceBotBOT
@UnCO3: 2d6k1 = (1+4) = 4
I arrive at the City.
It’s a busy day at the gates when I return – so many people heading through for the Tournament’s final matches in the coming days. Such a shame to miss it, but there’s good, thoughtful conversation in the air as I make my way to the parks. There I do battle with Katerina again, this time with my carven knights, and I give her the white one and tell her about the obelisks. She knows nothing, of course, and seems somewhat put out when I start talking about the dancers – as if I think she needs to hear fairytales – but when I make it clear that I’m not joking or telling stories, she listens much more intently. Perhaps one of the books in her library could tell us something of what they are, I suggest. Do you know how big a library can grow? She asks. Well, she promises she’ll look into it.

quote:

DiceBotBOT
@UnCO3: 2d6 = (1+6) = 7
A Tie is Broken by Clarity.
On my way back to the Dun Quarter I pass by a curious sight: A young man, still perhaps a boy, stepping onto a Church omnibus, and his parents quietly arguing with each other at the front gate of their house. The father says he’s too young by far to become a monk, and what if he gets it into his head to become an anchorite? They’ll never see him again, is that what she wants, for their son – her son – to be cloistered away or locked up forever in search of enlightenment? The mother retorts that the world is a cruel and harsh place outside the City’s walls, and your brother would agree – he knows the cold far better than you do.

It seems rude to stay any longer.

-

The sun goes down and I still can’t find my way home. Where did the Dun Quarter go? The streets are too clean, the buildings made of sandy brick, the walls are too high, the—the gaslamps come on. Where is this place? Where’s my home, my family? I grab a stranger passing by and demand to know where the Dun Quarter is, and where the Corriere family has gone, and he turns to look at me. Milo. Eyes wide, that tiny glint in them, he gently shows me around the New Quarter, pointing out all the new marvels of engineering and architecture – the branch aqueduct, the gaslamp network, the great towers and sturdy houses where it feels like so recently there were slouching tenements. Now I see that I’ve been gone longer than I thought.

He shows me home, a full apartment under the aqueduct, and I dine with my family for the first time in a long time. I eat and drink and digest what I’ve seen and heard. Though the New Quarter is strange to me, I don’t hate it. It blends with the rest of the City now. It’s no longer a sore. It’s still home. I don’t miss the muck; I’m glad it’s gone.

quote:

I keep my Tie to the City at the cost of my Self.
There’s a knock at the door. Milo goes to answer it. I’m caught off-guard when the caller forces the door wide open and pulls a knife on my brother, but I get my fist in their face before they can do any harm. I’m no fighter, though, and I see two more behind him and they all look ready for blood despite their fine clothes—

But I’m not alone either. Milo yells out of the door again and again – the collectors are here, the collectors again – and my mother and father make use of pots and pans to push the bastard back outside. I get to my feet and join in and we drive them back onto the street and then, on the buildings all around, window shutters and doors slam open. People come down out of their rows of houses, cudgels and knives and hammers and torches in hand. Not everyone, not nearly, but enough to outnumber these well-dressed thugs more than a dozen to one.

They break off and flee into the night before the growing crowd can close around them. The people’s threats and curses nip at their heels, before they too go away.

Milo says this has been not uncommon for a while now. I tell him we’ll hang the bastards if they come back.

Not that my duty gives me the time to back up that claim. I head off back to the postal stables, but this time my boots are clean.

-

Name: Corriere
Selves: journeyman in chess, dutiful elder brother, glad citizen of the City, distant admirer of blades
Possessions: A rough-hewn stone chess knight

Growth: 1
Decay: 0
Severance: 0
Renewal: 0
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 0




Note: Going forward, we treated the Broken Tie here as a Changed Tie.

UnCO3 fucked around with this message at 20:19 on Sep 12, 2019

UnCO3
Feb 11, 2010

Ye gods!

College Slice
Corriere
Turn 12

quote:

DiceBotBOT
@UnCO3: 2d6k1 = (4+3) = 4
I arrive at the barren, beautiful gully.
I find myself stopping back among the skeletons again. They’re more exposed than last time – I take that as a good sign, and sure enough Dr. Mill is still there when I round the corner to his encampment. I stay and listen to him talk about his work for a while. It’s relaxing.

quote:

DiceBotBOT
@UnCO3: 1d6 = (3) = 3
What protects this place?
While guiding my horse up the other side a ways further along the gully the next day, I trip over a strange vein of thick yellow-grey rock. I don’t remember this being here before, but it couldn’t possibly have been laid down since. The closer I look the more I see that the stone around it has been worn away by hooves and feet, finally exposing this strand.

When I trace it back I find more veins, all converging on one spot above the gully – a huge, but squat pillar, rough-skinned and blasted-open on the top, like a great tree struck by lightning.

Well…

From what Mill said, any living thing could turn to stone like this, given enough time. I suppose even to this day, this ancient tree’s roots hold the rock walls of this gully together, and keep them from all crumbling in on the stream. I chip a little piece off before carrying on my way.

-

Name: Corriere
Selves: journeyman in chess, dutiful elder brother, glad citizen of the City, distant admirer of blades
Possessions: A rough-hewn stone chess knight; A fragment of fossilised tree

Growth: 1
Decay: 0
Severance: 0
Renewal: 0
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 1

Tyrannosaurus
Apr 12, 2006
Cicalone
Turn 12

quote:

I reach the caravan.

When I deliver my letters, I am informed that the prince would like to speak to me.

-

quote:

AJ_Impy08/28/2019
“Find for me a puzzle that needs the hands to solve it, containing a truth I need to hear.”

quote:

UnCO308/28/2019
"Take this knife and bury it among the roots of the tallest tree."
-

Our meeting is brief. Of which I am glad. Not because of the prince himself, no, but rather the dizzying array of perfumes floating through the air. Perhaps they are the result of all the candles. Perhaps they are a separate thing. All I know is that they made it hard to breath and even more difficult to think.

When I step back out to the open, Vitaliano slaps me on the shoulder.

"How did it go, my friend?"

I shake my head, shrug, and show him the knife. He glances at it, confused. As he should be. It doesn't seem particularly special. No gems or jewels. No gilding on the hilt or the blade.

"He wants me to b-bury this under a tall tree," I say. "And find a p-puzzle."

"A puzzle?"

I nod.

"A tall tree?"

I nod. We both stand there for a moment.

"I guess it's not our place to question the thoughts of royalty, huh?" Vitaliano says.

And I nod once again.
--

Name: Cicalone
Selves: veteran of the wars, accomplished swordsman, broken-hearted bachelor, hopeless stutterer
Possessions: a holy book missing a page

Growth: 0
Decay: 1
Severance: 1
Renewal: 0
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 1

Tyrannosaurus fucked around with this message at 21:43 on Sep 23, 2019

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AJ_Impy
Jun 17, 2007

SWORD OF SMATTAS. CAN YOU NOT HEAR A WORLD CRY OUT FOR JUSTICE? WHEN WILL YOU DELIVER IT?
Yam Slacker
Allegra
Turn 12


I pass a courier and salute them wordlessly, a moment of comradely recognition far from our respective destinations.

quote:

I reach the city.

3 clarity on Katerina
DiceBot: @AJ_Impy: 3d6k1 = (2+3+5) = 5

I arrive to courts awash with gossip and tumult: The daughter of a foreign ambassador has been accused of trying to solicit sensitive information by befriending people in key positions over games of chess. Quite the international incident: It might blow over or it might result in greater upheaval. I deliver the correspondence and hasten home.

My sister gives me the bittersweet news of my beloved nephew's decision, and the far more worrying tidings of violence from the creditors. I head to the monastery at the prescribed visiting hours to set eyes on him, and I bequeath him the stone skull I found on my travels. I respect his choices, and will always be his loving aunt.

Changing 'a family-oriented woman' to 'a family-supportive woman no matter what'.

The creditors are another matter. My dalliances with the Orichalcum Blade mean that going after me directly is a risk even they aren't willing to take, but blood has been spilled and that cannot be accepted. No debt is worth the crimes they have committed, and this score will be settled by other means.

I break the tie.

I begin my return with renewed purpose. Once I find the wordless song, I know what I will ask of my prince.

Name: Allegra
Selves: an identical twin, a renowned duelling fencer, a family-supportive woman no matter what, inveterate gambler
Possessions: an embroidered sash made and gifted by my twin, a tiny lizard skull of stone and in stone

Growth: 0
Decay: 1
Severence: 0
Renewal: 0
Illusion: 0
Clarity: 0

AJ_Impy fucked around with this message at 21:28 on Sep 8, 2019

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