['Neath Shattered Skies and Scattered Stars] In The Shadow Of An Empty Throne

[Tepet Doneno]

Fain Birrach strode across the small plank bridge for he Palace Sublime, his simple robes flapping in the breeze. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows haphazardly about the courtyard that he and his new apprentice crossed. The monks of the Palace were performing their evening devotions, only a few of the more junior members of the monastery taking note of the two members of the Thousand Scales. Their elders simply noted the garb and purpose of the intruders, and let them be.


The Palace Sublime is a confusing maze of temple spaces, monastic training grounds, offices, council chambers, meditation quarters and vaults of riches and artifacts. Fain had passed through this particular labyrinth many times however, and easily navigated to the doorway he sought. Before the heavy oak doors he paused, turning to the young Chosen of Secrets that hovered in his wake.


"Alright young one. Today shall be your first lesson in dealing with Terrestrials."


His voice was low, rough from years of shouting at other bureaucrats. Despite the lack of prying eyes and the overabundance of security charms woven about them he spoke in a near whisper, leaning his care-worn face close to Wage's ear. Paranoia was a large part of Sidereal MO, and for a Chosen of Secrets discretion was paramount.


"Behind these doors is the office of the Mouth of Peace. She is the secular leader of the Immaculate Order, the one whom deals most closely with us greedy politicians. For the masses, The Mouth of Peace is considered a sacrificial figure, a being of great enlightenment and spiritual power who makes the sacrifice of sullying herself with the necessity of involvement in politics, secularism and mundane tasks. Very few speak with her, and today is no different. Officially you are here as an observer only, to play the roll of my aide. Do it well, and she'll forget you whenever she looks away. Draw attention to yourself, and she might even remember you the next time I bring you along."


His face grows stern, beetling brows drawing so close that they resemble nothing more than a pair of wrestling caterpillars.


"You don't want that to happen. Chejop Kejak keeps an office above, and speaks to her regularly. I doubt he'll look kindly upon a new Bronze Star making a spectacle of themselves."


Fain's face relaxes again, a genial smile forming as he slaps Wage lightly on the shoulder.


"But don't worry too much. You won't need to do much, just sit in the corner, pretend to take notes, and watch what I do. When you see an opening, read the scroll on the fifth shelf of the seventh bookcase to the right. It's a simple task, even if you'll get in a good deal of trouble if you're caught."


With that Fain raps thrice upon the doors, pushing them open with a flourish as someone within calls out a greeting.


-


The room you enter is sparsely decorated, but still bordering on ostentatious for a monk. Behind a large writing desk sits a stout Earth-Aspected woman, who rises politely as you each enter. A few other monks are scatterer throughout the room, puttering about with smaller tasks. Fain bows low to the woman, gesturing subtly for Wage to follow suit.


"Good evening, most exalted Mouth of Peace. Thank you for seeing me at such a late hour."


"Not at all Minister. It is my duty to engage in matters of commerce. How may I assist you?"


The two begin to engage in meaningless banter, running circles around each other with mired economic drivel. Out of the corner of his eye Fain watches Wage, monitoring his new apprentice.

 

[Inquisitor]

Wage nodded his head as he listened to Fain speak. "Yes, master. I will do my best to go unseen, master." He bowed as deep as he felt comfortable doing, before they headed in.


-


As soon as they walk in, he bows as deeply as Fain does. He does his best to maintain an air of utter silence, instead choosing to simply stand against a wall on the room's right side within eyesight of his master. He begins by actually taking notes on paper, but spends more of his effort making mental notes about the room's layout and examine the movement path of the surrounding monks, if there are any coherent paths to be had.


After some time, he moves closer to the proper shelf, doing his best to use moments of heavy debate and conversation between the two to get there hopefully unnoticed.

 

[Tepet Doneno]

None of the Monks have noticed you yet, and the Mouth of Peace seems content to ignore you. Only Fain's eyes follow you, subtly enough to avoid drawing attention.


The bookcase is a solid piece of work, sturdy oak doors laid with delicate glass panels. Two small handles, at roughly waist level, serve to open the cabinet. There is no lock, which almost makes sense in a monastic office. Within the case sit all manner of scrolls, books, and scriptures, many marked with Old Tongue writing. One in particular draws you eye, it's seal bearing 'By Writ Of Heaven' upon the incandescent wax.

 

[Inquisitor]

Simple notes are continually recorded as he occasionally glances sidelong into the cabinet. He positions himself so that he looks rather directly at Fain, able to act as though he were truly paying attention to the goings-on and caring. Truth be told, the monotony of politics was something he had failed to gain a taste for; in fact, while it was to be his job, it was one he truly hated. As far as he was concerned, there were better methods of dealing with disagreements than dancing around one's opponent with kind words disguising daggers. Such is all he saw from Fain at the moment: loosely veiled aggressions.


Eventually, during a heavy time of debate and discussion, when the monks had their backs turned, he reached to slip open the cabinet, having aimed for the clearly marked scroll. Silence and good timing were key; hopefully he judged his timing well.


[dice]4079[/dice]

 

[Tepet Doneno]

Wage is able to slip the scroll out of the cabinet with nary a rustle of parchment, the seal falling away like gossamer butter. It unrolls easily, fitting neatly over the notes the young Sidereal has already taken.


The parchment is covered in a litany of Old Realm, one of the simple sutras of the Five-Fold Fellowship that begin with 'Once, there was a maiden'. Before Wage can begin to read it, however, the parchment ripples. The flowing script contorts, twisting from elegant calligraphy to blocky symbols writ in a jagged, shifting script:


There once was a maiden...


But there is always a maiden. Let''s talk about something else.


What about those who were before the maidens?


Long before spiders and stars tended a loom, there were children at play.


They had lain in their beds, more than a dozen within and one waiting beyond.


When the first within awoke, she grew bored and roused her siblings.


They played in an ever-shifting forest, joined by the one from beyond.


By their will the world took shape.


By their craft was life spawned.


By their creations did they fall.


Bound and broken, the ones from within thrashed futilely, wrapped in chains of reality.


The one from beyond knew that his fate would be the same.


But it was not his nature to be as his playmates.


Before he was sealed within his wings, the one from beyond sent a piece of himself away.


Through a crack in his closing prison gates, the one from beyond cast the court of his least soul somewhere else entirely.


In a place elsewhere, that court has been waiting -


And now they are returning.


In a city of glass the Yellow Jester plies his trade,


In the madness the Pattern Juggler practices his craft,


In a realm of brass and shadows the Fire Witch waits,


In tombs of gods the Black Queen courts,


and in paradise the Purple Piper shatters moons.


Still in Elsewhere sits the king in red, and soon his armies shall march.


The room trembles as if resonating with the tramp of some distant behemoth, and somewhere in the distance a bugle sounds. Monks look about themselves, startled, while Fain and the Mouth of Peace reflexively strike defensive poses.


Fain's eyes immediately flick back to Wage, and he gestures sharply with his staff.


"Young one, come here quickly! Most Exalted Mouth of Peace, what was that?" The Earth Caste does not meet Fain's eye, moving instead to the large window situated behind her desk. As she gazes to the horizon Fain looks down at the parchment in Wage's hand.


"What in the name of the Maidens is that, Wage?"

 

[Inquisitor]

The look of shock is still visible on his face; mouth hangs agape faintly, eyes wide and glassy. It's as if Wage doesn't seem to genuinely care for anyone around him knowing who or what he is anymore. "By the Gods above, I know not, Master Birrach. I cannot say. But something is coming, and it is not of this world." He casts his master a grave stare. "We cannot stay here. We... Something must be done." With what seems to be the last of his will after the twisting vision, he thrusts the scroll into Fain's hands, as though he desires little more than to remove it from his presence and forget its existence. "Read it yourself."


He turns away from Fain, looking out the window to see whatever it is that the Mouth of Peace is staring at. "They are returning... But who are they?" He frowns deeply, muttering something to himself. "Master, who knows of the time before the Pattern Spiders?"

 

[Tepet Doneno]

Upon the horizon, high in the sky, a single brilliant star has lit itself afire. The single radiant point of light bleeds a deep and hypnotic shade of purple, steadily growing with every pulse and undulation of it's diaphanous halo. Faintly, as if played form a great distance, the subtle notes of a panpipe can be heard. Each pulse and undulation of the violet star seems to be performed in time to the distant piping, a gentle, intimate melody that calls to mind everything from a lover's caress to a parent's embrace. Already the star is double the size of the other specks in the night sky, taking advantage of that brief period between sunset and moonrise to stand alone in the sky, unmolested by the radiance of the Daystar or the Silver Throne.


"Dragons preserve us..." Whispers the Mouth of Peace, her eyes unwavering from the intruder of the night's sky, "What is Paisap's name is that?"


"Something that should not exist." Fain growls quietly, grabbing Wage by the shoulder. With a simple gesture the rest of the room becomes indistinct, the voices of the startled monks muffled and indecipherable. It is as if Fain has cast a veil over the two of you, a netting of warped Fate.


"Come boy. We're leaving. We'll need to gather up the Boss too, he's no doubt seen the star and will want to hold a meeting with the whole Fellowship. Easier to have groups call the Calibration Gate than have to keep yanking it from one another before the last summoner even sets foot on Yu Shan."


The Sifu stared pensively down at the parchment in his calloused brown hand, contemplating the jagged script as he strides swiftly down the corridor.


"To answer your question with another question, how much do you know of Raksha, Primordials, and Yozi?"

Spoiler

You can roll (Intelligence + Lore, difficulty 3) or just default. In the event of a default I'll just lay out the basics about the three.

 

[Inquisitor]

Swift, soft footfalls fight to keep up with the fast walk of the older Sidereal. He makes occasional glances over Fain's shoulder, as if to examine the scroll again, but immediately thinks better of it each time, and averts his eyes. "I've heard whisperings here and there, bits and pieces. But I don't really know what's true or not. But first, tell me what that star was, Master. I surely cannot be expected to participate in this meeting if I do not know what is going on." He frowns. "I... What are we to even do?" He slows down a bit but, when he realizes that doing so is futile and time is apparently of the essence, he picks the pace up again, still struggling to stay in step with the speedy man.

Spoiler

Rolling for it!


[dice]4202[/dice]