[Mysterious Cities of Jade] Chapter 3 - Getting Paid

The man spends another couple of minutes studying the salt lines before answering, a credit to his duties. Satisfied, he stands and arches his back, popping a couple of joints with visible relief. He's getting on in years a little, but still looks fairly capable. He looks you up and down. "Huh, you're definitely not a citizen. Touch of the Dragons in you, yes? Monster hunter, maybe?" He shrugs, opening up a bit to someone who might understand the ins and outs of dealing with unliving monstrosities.


"No Dragon-Blooded monks available right now, I hear they're busy with something else. The mortals ones will do fine though, in chiaroscuro at least they're well-versed in warding against ghosts and the like, out of necessity. Normally it's the weather that gets us. One surprise shower and you risk every shadowland in the city getting breached. We're careful about that, any thaumaturge with talent for the weather gets offered good money to predict or avert a downpour. Sometimes though, they just... break through. It could be strength of numbers, or some rare art of the dead, or even a madman trying to sabotage the city. Maybe even the dead themselves are corralling them; There are effectively two cities here, and in one of them the inhabitants are all dead. Hungry ghosts though are unpleasant to everyone, living or dead, it would make sense that they'd want to confine them... whatever the reason, every now and again, you get a bunch of them congregating like this, and the risk of them getting out increases enough for people to worry.


He takes a moment to stare with genuine curiosity at the mob of ragged human shapes, silently howling incoherent curses at everything with a still-beating heart. The man seems more fascinated than scared by these things, an unusual enough trait amongst Dragon-Blooded, never mind mortals.


"There's a lot of debate as to why. The city council has commissioned studies, but uptake has been poor, given not many scholars are interested in getting this close to ravenous bloodthirsty shades. It's gotten noticeably worse in the last, ooh, I'd say three or four years. Me, I've been studying these congregations whenever I find them, checking the salt barrier around them regularly, noting the location, time, duration, doing head counts, well for those that still have heads anyway. "
 
"Do you think something or someone is driving them? Not just to get them out of the dead's hair, but testing the barriers? My expertise isn't with the occult, sadly, but I can take care of myself." He jerks his shoulder round, revealing the marmoreal tetsubo slung across his back. "A solid hit will kill most anything. Typically not for these creatures unless they manifest." Shinji peers at the dead with an old, oft-forgotten clinical eye. "Look at the clothing. The front menagerie is Old Chiaroscuran. Low First Age, sometime from the Shogunate. Most likely not long after the Old City was leveled in the Revolution*." He regards the gentleman and his guards. "You perform good works."


He stands and watches a while. "What have you found? In your studies." He asks at length.

* I always figured the learned Terrestrials would have a slightly more PC name for the Usurpation.
 
"Ah, you've read a few books! Always nice to see, sir. Yes, most of the spirits would have died around that time or before. The whole city was more or less scoured of life in those wars, if the historical texts are in any way accurate. There were probably more people living there at the time than have ever lived here since, and given that ghosts most often arise from violent deaths, it's no surprise to see so many Old Chiaroscurans still... hanging around, as it were. Even the lower soul giving rise to hungry, vengeful spirits remember enough of their old lives to clothe themselves in the style of the day. As for my research..."


He sighs, massaging his back to work out a kink. "I'm not sure I like where the evidence is leading. I've been tending the salt lines for five years now. Before that, I was an assistant to a scavenger lord for ten, until the hazards of the occupation caught up with him. I had no desire to follow in footsteps that ended so, uh, abruptly, but I saw a great deal in my travels, and I learned the value of paranoia."


He looks hesitant.

Charisma+Socialise, please, +3 reaction dice because you're being intellectual at him and interested in his research
 
"Heh. I can say, much to my displeasure, I've still not met a scavenger lord in my travels. I always liked hearing tales of their eccentric lot. Especially the one with the impeccable hat, Jonas something or other." Shinji shrugs, still watching the ethereal wake before him. So many. "Paranoia may be the greatest of measures of a man's worth in life."

Spending a Will.
 
"No," Elegy had declined Shinji, pleasantly. "I am afraid I must retire. My head still aches slightly from that spill." A patent lie. It would not do to be recognized!


She had spent the day trying to avoid the fact, but Mercury had suddenly manifested before her and... what? Drafted her into games of God and Anti-God? An Abyssal, a being outside of fate? Elegy climbed aboard the Maiden in solemn contemplation. She looked down at her hands.


How had she gotten here? Memories of her time among Eye and Seven Despairs seared just below conscious thought. In such a short time he had remade her into... what? An avatar of the damned and forgotten? Is this all there is?


She still remembers the first time she erupted. When her skin burned away and -- those poor people -- their eyes melting from their sockets as they clawed at dissolving flesh. The howl of the Neverborn that chilled the air, a numbing, killing cold that cracked windows and left icicles in the middle of a desert town. And, above all, the knowledge that she was the conduit of this holocaust, she was the architect of their damnation. She wanted to ask what she had done to deserve this. Elegy wanted answers. She wanted to be Toshiki again. But she knew there is no 'deserve' -- 'deserve' is a word made up by human beings to lend order to an existential word. She had arrived here because she made a terrible compact that she did not understand, a scared girl whose father had deemed her useless. She had seen things, done things, in the Underworld that had changed her. She had been remade.


Elegy thought about her mother for the first time in a long while. Her face is a blur, her voice distorted. For the best. If Elegy erupted near her mother, this deathknight would take a lancet to her throat without hesitation, knowing that would fix precisely nothing.


She thought about her father. His stony face as he manacled her to the wall and his silence as he sealed her in an underground vault. If she saw Cynis Ittai now, what would she do? Would she forget? Or would she give into her hate, as the Neverborn intended, and utter Words of dead and alien things and rend him mote from mote? She already knew the answer. In the end, she was helpless. So ironic, the Exaltations created to empower humanity could become such icy chains.


Time to sleep. Let these morbid thoughts end.
 
Elegy:


You have had a rather exciting and tiring couple of days, and sleep comes easily enough.

Or DOES it? DUN DUN DUNNNNNN! Side thread coming soon!

^_^
Shinji:


Well chosen words that resonate with the man. They raise a brief smile, and a certain acknowledgement of shared burdens. "Mosuu Rakai, nice to meet you." He moves in closer, dropping his voice conspirator-style, so even his bodyguards can't hear: "I think you may be right. When I started this job, these congregations were smaller, and their locations random. In the last couple of years though... There's not enough data to support it yet, but it seems that more often than not they occur in the less populated areas of the city, and more than once there have been very large gatherings in quick succession on opposite sides of the city. And every recorded case for the last three months now has happened with salt lines that were neglected, or due for maintenance. I'd like to believe that it is just chance, but... A paranoid man might see a pattern where one gathering happens as a distraction, while another occurrs without witnesses far away, at the weakest links in the chain."
 
A chill runs down Shinji's spine, looking at all that sorrow and hate just a few yards off. All the same, he clasps hands with the man. Whispers, "Well met. Shinji Jaffa Caras."


A thought occurs. "You know, if we remain in town a few more days - which isn't guaranteed - I may have someone you could consult on the matter. It would have to be hush-hush, but I believe she too has an intimate relation to these creatures and your profession. It never hurts for a little more help. But I promise nothing." Shinji wishes he had his pipe, a good bit of tobacco to soothe the nerves. Alas, it's on the ship somewhere. "A paranoid man may think that, yes. But if the pattern has been repeating, my friend, that isn't paranoia, that's a pattern. Is there anyone who would lend an ear to these concerns? Surely the nobility like keeping themselves alive."
 
Mosuu stares appraisingly at you for a while.


"I've filed several reports, but those things take forever to travel upwards. And nobles hate hearing about bad news. It'll get through, but it'll take time. All I can do is collect more evidence every night. Your friend... She's trustworthy? Ach, you wouldn't have mentioned her if you didn't think she was. That... Might be interesting. I could use another perspective, and few of my colleagues have the stomach for anything more than ensuring the salt is where it's supposed to be. Tell you what, I have tomorrow afternoon off, and if you ask at the Broken Wave College near the most seaward glass tower, someone will know where I am. I teach there sometimes. Bring your friend along and we can discuss the matter further. I have one last area to check before retiring for the night, so if you don't mind I'd best be about it. Good to meet you, Shinji Jaffa Caras."


He shakes your hand once more, and heads off with his bodyguards. A thousand eyes watch his retreating back with contempt.
 
Shinji:


The ghosts stare back, thousands of years of hatred between them. It mightn't be so bad if they were shrieking, or hurling themselves violently against their prison, but they just stand there, watching and waiting. It gets too much for even you eventually, and you have to leave for less unpleasant surroundings.


Everyone:


The night draws proceedings to a close. some of you remain on the ship, contemplating weighty matters. Some of you go to Khaza Dal's Oasis, to celebrate your first small fortune, a job genuinely well done, and possibly even being chosen by one of the Maidens for a mysterious and surely glorious task. The good stuff is brought out when your small mountain of coin is presented. The following morning may well have stern words with you after tonight, but that's a problem for the future. right now, jubilation, hope and contentment abound.


[Thread over, excellent work on all sides! have 10 XP, everyone!]
 
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