O Brave New World - IC

[Random Word]

Hold

 

[Random Word]

Spoiler: Metagame Notes

Hazel & John are going to meet, and be the dark horse in a race between a strange white-veiled foreigner rumoured to possess a map to the lost Alcazar of Twelve Ewers - thought to contain the secrets to making the most gods-forsaken wasteland a verdant garden paradise - and the colourful sorceress with authority issues pursuing her.

Goal: Secure the Alcazar of Twelve Ewers

Obstacles:
Name [Number of Points to Overcome] (Notes)
We Don't Know Where We're Going [2] (Possible solutions: Steal Zahur's map. Copy her map. Independently discover the location through research, divination, or communing with spirits. Join or tail one of the expeditions. etc)
Overcome the Guardian Beasts [2] (Possible solutions: Petition a martial arts school or great family to escort you. Participate in your own ritual hunt to secure the favour of the Lady of the Forest. Ignore the ward, defeating any Guardian Beasts that attack you on your way. Invent your own ward in defiance of the Lady.)
Solve the Puzzle to Bypass the Wards OR Defeat the Guardian [3]
Neutralize Zahur, Vessel of Sekhenun [4] (Prevent them from interfering with your plans by making them an ally, intimidating them, killing them, incapacitating them, deceiving them, distracting them, etc)
Neutralize Thamina Al-A'zam, Associate Magister-Errant of the Ministry of Life [4] (Prevent them from interfering with your plans by making them an ally, intimidating them, killing them, incapacitating them, deceiving them, distracting them, etc)

Hazel:
You travelled far to reach Achaea, guided by a teardrop pendant of amber strung on a thin moonsilver chain. When held up to the light of the sun it refracts a needle of light that unerringly points in the direction of your Solar bondmate. It can hardly be a coincidence that the tea leaves foretold you would travel in the direction the amulet now unerringly points. Surely this Golden Queen of the Sands whose glory is foretold must be your mate.

Who gave you the amulet?

You don't have two eighths of a dinar to rub together, but this is a trifling obstacle for the blessed of Luna. You follow a solitary path across moonlit dunes, passed teeming cities lit from above by arcs of shining light between towers that hang is if weightless in the sky, through seemingly endless fields overflowing with grain and barley, amongst dense orchards that hang heavy and redolent with pomegranate and persimmon, burrowing under the earth during the day, only braving the pitiless and unrelenting light of the sun when far from settlements, until you reach a seemingly insurmountable obstacle in a wall of rock crowned by staggeringly immense trees that seem to brush the sky. Some great and primal force must have pulled this sheer vertical cliff face from the earth, and the prospect of burrowing up it is daunting to say the least.

Thankfully you are not the first to face this challenge. As you approach the river you are awestruck by the spectacular Tiama Falls, amidst whose thick rolling mist - ambrosia to desert-parched lips - and thunderous roar felt in the bones as much as heard, hundreds of river boats and barges line up to enter water-filled elevators as they cyclically rise and fall. In a quicksilver flash and a few graceful hops you're aboard a beautiful passenger vessel and safely nestled in the shadows to conceal your own with none the wiser. A few minutes later a team of slaves heaves on a great chain to close the gate behind the half dozen ships that have entered this White Jade artificial pond and with a signal from the foreman it begins its ascent. Two hundred metre tall statues tirelessly pull on immense White Jade chains to lift you like so many children's toys though the mist, passed the immense Jade and Orichalcum prayer wheels spun by the descending waters and the mist-cloaked city of Tiama where the chanting of the monks can be faintly heard over the roar of the falls.

Cats are sacred and welcome stowaways. Who offered you succor aboard the ship?

1. A lonely woman in a white veil and crimson robes emblazoned with a golden jackal-headed canopic jar, what must be a dozen scrolls in a bag hanging from her hip, surrounded by a trio of three metre tall six-armed creatures clad from head to toe in vibrantly dyed purple linen and smelling of frankincense. The other passengers give her a very wide berth. [Meet Zahur, Vessel of Sekhenun. She will confide something she probably shouldn't to a cat that keeps her company.]
2. A mysterious woman riding in a large four-legged lotus blossom surrounded by dancing faerie lights. Banners depict a black tree on a white background, roots intertwined with a white tree descending against a black background. The roots of both entwine an anatomical diagram of a heart, becoming its veins and arteries. To your expert eye the living carriage is clearly a Sorcerous Working of incredible craftsmanship and beauty. The passengers keep a respectful distance and bow when they pass. [Meet Thamina Al-A'zam, Associate Magister-Errant of the Ministry of Life. She will give you a token of her affection that commands respect in many circles if you please her.]
3. The swarthy captain of the ship, with sun-browned skin, calloused hands, and deep wrinkles from a perennial smile, all earned over a long and storied career traversing the Achaea. [A very useful contact for navigating waterways and supplying expeditions.]
4. An athletic young man sitting seiza and drinking tea on the prow of the ship, nervously trying to ignore the many admirers clamoring for his attention. Wickedly sharp bronze claws sit on the deck behind him. His loose gi and many scars and tattoos suggest a martial artist. [Perhaps the Tiger School could use a new mascot? An in with the Martial Arts world of Locura]
5. Someone else. Who?

At the zenith the elevator is unhooked from the chain and deposited into a placid pond separated from the rushing waters near the precipice of the falls. The captain haggles briefly with local water elementals before one of the great jewelled turtles agrees to haul the ship through the treacherous waters before the falls into calmer waters where the teams of rowers can again take over. Another half day of hard rowing beneath the great canopy of titanic trees, under arcing root-bridges crowned with their own forests, and through immense stone canals spanning verdant valleys sees you arrive at the ironwood docks of Javurwa. You spend much of it either in shadow on the deck or belowdecks, being careful to dart across patches of direct sunlight that make it through the canopy only when no one is looking.

The neighbourhood-boughs of the great tree above are a frenetic hive of activity this close to the Falling Blossoms Festival. Gatherers eat the blessed Monkeyfruit to gain the miraculous ability of Woodwalking, running sideways or upside down along networks of ropes that span neat and orderly branches hanging heavy with exotic fruits, vegetables, herbs, and spices. They use bladed sticks to cut free the harvest while others work in groups carrying nets underneath to catch it as it falls. Skyfruit allows them to make great soaring leaps between branches and clusters of ropes. Between them they make swift progress in gathering a veritable cornucopia that Hazel sees arrayed before her in dizzying splendor, ready to be loaded onto hundreds of waiting barges by giant orangutan-like beasts of burden, baskets strapped to their backs and bundles slung under their muscular arms.

Deeper into the great market her amulet guides her, until she reaches a broad causeway between two ziggurat-temples, several massive roots of the heart tree having long ago pierced them both to create arcing bridges. Along each tier of the temples are busy shops and taberna slinging food and drink to hungry dockworkers and traders alike. As Hazel weaves through the dense crowds, haranguing cries of hawkers, and mouthwatering scents from a hundred grills, she is led unerringly through multi-storey arcades carved into the roots, where establishments open onto balconies overlooking the busy market below. Here amongst the crowds, the shadows of tall buildings, and the sheltering canopy above, concealing her shadow is relatively easy. The few odd looks from passersby can be ignored as they're quickly swept away by the crowd before they can investigate further. In pride of place at the apex of one of the largest roots, with a spectacular view of the markets and the docks, she at last arrives at her destination and feels the undeniable tug on her soul as she lays eyes on her prize. Now only a single obstacle stands before her: The line of hungry lunchtime patrons that stretches out the door and down the arcade.

---

Spoiler: Kasra

Aspect: Fire
Essence: 2; Willpower: 7; Join Battle: 7 dice (+3 for 3m)
Personal: 13, Peripheral: 26
Health Levels: −0x2/−1x3/−2x3/−4x2/Incap.
Actions: Cooking: 8 dice (+5 dice for 5m); Feats of Strength: 7 dice (+2 successes for 4m, may attempt Strength 3 feats); Dance: 8 dice (+2 successes for 4m); Read Intentions: 7 dice (+2 successes for 4m); Resist Poison/Disease: 7 dice (+4 for 4m); Gambling 8 dice (+5 dice for 5m); I Know a (Probably Shady) Guy/Navigate the Underworld (Uh, not that Underworld, the mundane one): 8 dice (+5 dice for 5m);

Appearance 3
Resolve 3 (+1 for 2m)
Guile 3 (+2 for 4m)

Aspects
Dreams of Grandeur
Princess of Pepper
I Know a (Sketchy) Guy
Gambling Problem

Kasra's hair:

John:
John, by contrast, has travelled not far at all, having grown up in Javurwa, and his apartment being mere blocks from the BAR. For all that it is short, his journey remains remarkably eventful. As the most handsome man in his neighbourhood (and perhaps the entire city, if you listen to his admirers), a successful business owner, well educated, and a divine chef, to say John is an eligible bachelor would be something of an understatement. His daily walk to and from the BAR is something of a community institution, filled with a laughably improbable number of chance encounters, gifts from hopeful parents and admirers, and forlorn sighs, smiles, and winks from pretty girls and even some boys working the shops and markets along the way. Some of which he strongly suspects took the jobs precisely because they're on his route to work.

Finally - having somehow acquired some lovely fresh mangoes, a ceramic jar of chutney sealed with wax, and a nice linen shirt along the way - he arrives at the BAR, where Kasra is dishing up lunchtime orders with theatrical flair. Her eyes smolder like embers burning low after a night of celebration, an invitation to sit down for one last drink before the dawn and the responsibilities it heralds. Her ashblow hair billows, a cloud of thick black smoke wreathing her face. Her every motion has the graceful precision of a professional dancer coupled with the practicality of a practiced chef with a lot of orders to fill. An economy of motion that wastes no effort, but an eye for the dramatic that ensures that of two roughly equally efficient options the most spectacular always wins.

She sweeps her hand under a dozen woks to ignite flames beneath them, sears the outside of skewered meat to lock in flavour with a brush of her fingertips, cooks meat evenly to exactly the right temperature in seconds, brings broth to a boil with a glance, and cooks and sears vegetables while she dices with glowing hot knives. In time to the rhythm of the upbeat tune she hums absently she slings steaming bowls across the kitchen to customers at the bar with alternating hands. A display that would be considerably more impressive if she threw the correct dish to the correct customer.

"Hey, this isn't the venison cutlet!" cries one customer, outing himself as a new patron. The regulars are already laughing.

"What, do I have to do everything around here?" Kasra calls back. All the regulars recite along in a chorus as she continues, "You have eyes and tongues, sort it out!"

By this point everyone's familiar with the ritual. If you sit at the bar you get front row seats to the show, but you never know whose order you're going to get. You can then meet your fellow patrons by trading until you get your order - assuming it isn't too appetizing for the recipient to give it up! - or just enjoy trying something unexpected.

Kasra spots you enter and, glancing over the kitchen to make sure everything is in a good state to be left unattended for a few moments, steps up to the edge of the bar to meet you with a conspiratorial grin. Small wisps of smoke tumble over her lips as she speaks, "Hey, boss. You hear the news?" A rhetorical question if you've ever heard one, as she doesn't so much as take a breath before proceeding, "No? Gotta get out more. An exciting arrival at the docks today. Some bigwig Necromancer from downriver. 'Abzu. Her bodyguards're freakin' people right out, but she's throwing around silver like it's going out of style, planning a trip out into the jungle, so she's been attracting some interest. Anyway, I need a favour. You read a lot of old books, right? Like old old? You ever seen something that looks like this before?"

From a pocket in her apron she pulls a very well rendered drawing of what looks to be the cap of a scroll case protruding from a bag hanging at someone's hip. It has an inscription running around the edge in Old Realm and a twelve-armed goddess pouring an ewer full of water with each hand. The waters from the ewers form the characters of the inscription. In typical Old Realm fashion it can be read in many ways, but it seems to be the motto of some kind of organization. "We [create/make/build] [life/dreams/light] so [all/together we/our people] might [flourish/stand against darkness/defy chaos]." You feel like there are probably other meanings, too, but you've never been much of a poet and Old Realm is a notoriously tricky language.

Do you recognize the symbol? If so, where did you see it?

[Pass - This is an establishing shot. The important information about the existence of the map has been delivered. This is a chance for John to meet Hazel, Hazel to maybe meet someone briefly on her way here, and optionally for Kasra to establish her interest in stealing the map if that's a path John & Hazel want to take. Kasra can bring Zahur to the BAR if desired, as Zahur is looking for both a place to stay and to eat, and it's easy to sell what's probably the best restaurant in the neighbourhood.

If you opt not to recognize the symbol you're setting yourself up for a research montage to uncover its origins, or to meet a contact who does.]

 

[Random Word]

Spoiler: Metagame Notes

Next up I think I'll do Psychie and Sherwood. These take a while, so bear with me. This game won't necessarily go fast since I'm making most everything up as I go. I'm going to assume their silence on the subject of what they want to do, but eagerness to get started, reflects a desire for me to just pick something already Random for them so they can get to hitting the bad things.

Morrolan and Renna will be hired by a woman with all the subtlety and tact of a thunderbolt and a soft spoken man to storm the mountain war manse Hall of Enduring Silence and cast down its Eight-Forged King and his army of Dev to free the people of Kabir - and more importantly, their deep veins of precious tin.

Goal: Put the name Red Arms Company on the lips of every notable in the Principate, and get paid doing it.
Obstacles:
Name [Number of Points to Overcome] (Notes)
Traverse the Desert [2] (Possible approaches: Hire sandships to carry you, show off your survival skills, make a pact with a supernatural benefactor, etc. The desert is harsh, and without preparation crossing it will cost lives.)
A Ferocious Army of Dev [4] (The Eight-Forged King's army of Dev are spread out over the countryside pillaging. You could defeat them in detail fairly easily, at significant cost to the populace, or try to cause them to form up for pitched battle to stop them from doing more harm.)
Neutralize The Lord of Ash [2] (The only Sorcerer amongst the Eight-Forged King's retinue. Draw him out in one of your battles to kill him, distract him, assassinate him, or otherwise prevent him from interfering by summoning demons.)
The Hall of Enduring Silence [2] (Its great gates and heavy fortifications make a direct assault costly, but more frightening still are its breath-stealing enchantments, and its ability to summon vicious sandstorms.)
Neutralize The Eight-Forged King [4] (Cow, murder, drive off, etc.)

Renna & Morrolan:
The Diamond Road is an essential trade link for a huge swath of the South, an ancient elevated road paved with ochre stone, with an unpaved path of clay along one shoulder for unshod animals. A roadside shrine with a monk secluded in prayer and supplication sits beside the road every ten kilometres, with a larger temple and rest stop every hundred. Together, their chanting, prayers, and the offerings left by travellers wards the road against the relentless fury of the sun, keeping travellers relatively cool and the road largely impervious to wear and tear over the centuries.

The cavalry of the Red Arms Company ride down the clay path clad in the brightly coloured fashions of a hundred noble houses from nearly as many nations, while the soldiers walk down the paved road in a dignified but practical uniform, half in front of the supply train and half behind. All across the company fly pennants to commemorate a hundred famous victories worthy of song. Two Yeddim - Lucy and Varthai - haul the largest of the wagons, one the company's treasury - which you were careful to secure quickly when you led the rebellion - and the other the smithy, while donkeys haul the rest of the extensive baggage train. Several hundred camp followers march between the wagons: blacksmiths of course, fletchers and carpenters, prostitutes and priests, cooks and servants, and even some families. Anyone who feels like they can make a living offering services to the soldiers, or who can't bear to be apart from them.

To Renna, being in the saddle comes as easily as breathing. Remarkably, two weeks of riding Asha bareback down the Diamond Road hasn't given you so much as a single saddle-sore, though you can't say the same for the mortals under your command. You can hear them quietly bemoaning exactly how uncomfortable they are whenever they think themselves out of earshot. As for Morrolan, you were tough as nails before you drew your Second Breath, and a veteran of more than a decade of long marches. Now your body seems almost indestructible, and you feel like you could march from here to the Pole of Fire and back without stopping to rest. It's at once inspiring and infuriating to your men, some of whom have taken to walking outside the protective wards of the road for a few minutes to remind themselves just how hot the sun really is, so that when they step back inside they feel just a little bit cooler.

Spoiler: Master of Skirmishers Rogosh Eagle Eye

Aspect: Wood
Essence: 2; Willpower: 6; Join Battle: 8 dice (+4 for 4m) Personal: 13; Peripheral: 26
Health Levels: −0/−1x2/−2x6/−4/Incap.
Actions: Command: 8 dice (+4 dice for 4m); Read Intentions: 7 dice (+2 successes for 4m); Resist Poison/Disease (7 dice, +2 successes for 4m); Senses: 9 dice (+5 for 5m); Social Influence: 6 dice (+1 success for 2m); Stealth: 9 dice (+2 successes for +4 motes)
Appearance 2, Resolve 4 (+2 for 4m), Guile 3 (+2 for 4m)

Combat
Attack (Devil Render, green jade daiklave): 11 dice (+6 for 6m, Damage 14L/5)
Attack (Dawnbreaker, green jade short powerbow): 13 dice at short range (+6 for 6m, Damage 13L/3)
Attack (Unarmed): 9 dice (+4 for 4m, Damage 9B)
Attack (Grapple): 5 dice (+4 dice for 4m; 5 dice to control, +2 for 2m)
Combat Movement: 8 dice (+4 for 4m)
Evasion: 4 (+2 for 4m), Parry: 7 (+3 for 6m)
Soak/Hardness: 6/0 (Breastplate)

Aspects:
Grizzled Veteran
Eagle Eyed Shadow
The Ends Justify the Means
Vengeful

Spoiler: Master of Horse Wisdom's Star

Aspects:
Starry Eyed
Meticulous Planner
Socialite
Unshakable Faith

Spoiler: Quartermaster Mai Yanxing

Aspects:
Ex-Guildsman
Enterprising
Improbably Well Connected
No Stomach for Violence
Political Animal

The two of you walk, Company Captain Renna mounted on Asha and Master of Foot Morrolan, at the head of the column surrounded by several of the other senior officers for the evening briefing. Master of Skirmishers Rogosh Eagle Eye, breastplate of black Chiaroscuran glass with a matte grease spread over it to prevent reflections and glare, his hair offering an excellent impersonation of sunbleached scrub brush, the great Powerbow Dawnbreaker (He's asked, hesitatingly, if you'd like him to see if the storied weapon wouldn't mind unduly having its name changed.) over his back and the Daiklave Devil Render at his hip. Master of Horse Wisdom's Star rides beside Renna, her neck as ever craned backwards to examine the evening sky, the stars barely visible against the light of the setting sun. You swear, one of these days she's going to trip and die trying to stargaze and walk at the same time, but somehow it hasn't happened yet. Mars-Born with Jupiter Ascendant, she claims it's in her nature to plan for every eventuality, and she firmly believes she'll find them all somewhere up there in the sky. Perhaps if she's lucky she'll see the day she trips and dies coming. Quartermaster Mai Yanxing brings up the rear in Nexus finery of gold silk brocade with crimson accents, smoking her pipe, tallying accounts on her abacus, and checking results with her scribes as she rides.

Wisdom's Star's endless stargazing seems to pay off as she observes absently with some irritation, "Something obscures the fourth element of the Gauntlet." Rogosh gives her a look of flat disbelief, but turns to look regardless and his eyes briefly go wide before narrowing. He holds his hand to his brow to block out more of the light from the setting sun and stares intently for the span of several heartbeats before sucking his breath between his teeth. "Ahlat's Horns, she's right. There's a skyship approaching from the East, Sir. I wouldn't believe it if I didn't see it with mine own pair."

You call a halt, and prepare the troops for a skirmish, just in case. Soldiers grumble under their breath as they have to step out onto the hot sands to take up formation, but none hesitate to obey, and at least the sun is setting. You aren't expecting violence here, not so far from the front of the little Realm Civil War to the North, but it is the nature of violence to strike where you least expect it. "If the Wyld Hunt has managed to commandeer a skyship and send it this far South, I'll eat my shirt," declares Quartermaster Yanxing, unperturbed. "Curious locals, I'd wager. What are we, half a day's march out from the Principate?"

"Less, I think," offers Wisdom's Star. "I've had ostentatious welcomes before, but never has anyone sent a skyship to greet me. I'm moving up in the world on your auspicious coattails, Captain."

As the skyship approaches, you see it looks like someone took two riverboats and laid them deck to deck, with six pairs of immense feathered wings to provide lift. Where there would be banks of oars there are instead firing ports for archers and javelin throwers. The hull is painted shining white with a symbol emblazoned boldly on the side in crimson that looks like a city enfolded protectively in a pair of feathered wings that emerge from a tower behind it. It flies low as it approaches, at an oblique angle that limits its ability to fire at all of you, perhaps as a gesture of good will. It comes to a stop about two hundred metres down the road from your position, beating wings kicking up a cloud of sand beneath it. A doorway opens in the side of the hull with several figures standing inside, a woman with a wild shock of golden hair dressed in a white and crimson uniform standing at the front. Moments later there's a sharp crack as she vanishes, followed almost instantly by the boom of thunder as a bolt of lightning arcs out of the doorway and down to the road, the woman materializing again where it strikes.

She calls out in a voice that booms like thunder, clearly magically amplified, "I am Magister-Militant Saeiqa Al-Sayf of the Sassarin Principate. I would speak to your commanding officer." She holds out her arms, as if to demonstrate she has no weapons, though you seriously doubt that makes her any less dangerous. A half dozen other figures descend ropes that fall from the centre of the hull.

Rogosh spits into the sand, disgusted, "Sorcerer." A soft murmur of disquiet goes up amongst the soldiers closest to the front. He turns to Morrolan, "Would you like me to go find out what it wants, Sir, or shall I just put an arrow through it from here and save us the trouble?"

Spoiler: Magister-Militant Saeiqa Al-Sayf of the Ministry of War

Appearance 3 - Not beautiful by any classical definition, but striking.
Resolve 7
Guile 1

Aspects
Subtlety and Tact of a Thunderbolt
???
???
???

[Hold - We still need to establish the job and whether you accept, but we can flash forward to violence as soon as you decide to sign on the dotted line - or if you attack Saeiqa, of course.]

 

[Rykon]

John entered the BAR from the backside of the building and deposited the gifts from various admirers in an increasingly cluttered storage bin or the pantry where appropriate with some measure of guilt. He had grown fond of a few of the ladies in town over the years. Exchanging playful banter or romantic advances was certainly an enjoyable distraction. Yet, recent events always found a way to draw his focus elsewhere.

It had been that way ever since his "awakening". Dreams came to him in his sleep. Colorful visions of different places and different times. Many he could scarcely remember in detail within an hour of waking up. Definitive answers to the most important questions had largely eluded him to this point. Any clues were often veiled hints in relics, legends, folk tales, and other stories the people shared about the days now buried beneath shifting, searing sand. Where the truth actually lies was a matter of private speculation and review. Still, he considered the mystery of his circumstance a priority, lest the weight of his ignorance bring destruction to him and those around him.

Just as soon as he could gain his bearings in the tide of orders and chatty customers, there was Kasra. For all his trouble in a relatively short commute, much of the rumor mill sparking romantic interest intensified with her arrival. After all, what kind of person could convince one of the Exalted to cook for them in a diner of all places? Were it not for her sincere commitment to the job, John might've grown tired of the backlash by now. Hearing the customers raise a raucous chant at the BAR roulette, though. That always seemed to wash away the stress. On a good day, when one of them was feeling creative, John or Kasra would test a new dish. Setting it out front to see if there were any takers.

Today, as usual, she was up to something and blessedly quick to get to her point. Much as he wanted to know more about this necromancer of Ea Abzu, there was a tangible item of interest now in his mitts. "A favor huh? What am I gonna get out of this one, Kasra?" John asked as he drank in the image and connected glyphs. Each word delivered by the set of glyphs seemed deliberate in its multiple interpretations and connotations. Then again, if he knew more of the origin of this dialect it may narrow down the intent behind them. "Hmm... I can read what sounds like a motto or oath for a union of artisans, but I can't quite place the goddess in this image. Where did you find this?"

[I don't have anything that jumps out at me for where John would recognize it from. Also, an investigation montage will give us a chance to build momentum and understanding as players. Might as well start with that route.]

 

[Random Word]

Spoiler: Metagame Notes

Okay, let's see...

A Kheru [A title roughly equivalent to Prince] of the powerful Fayum Clan - to whom the Hematti nominally owe fealty - has been captured by the Bintanath Clan when they chanced upon his sandship while he was exploring a newly exposed ruin. Ordinarily the Kheru would be ransomed back quickly, but a powerful Jinn of the Bintanath has reportedly taken a liking to the Kheru - admittedly famed for his beauty nearly as much as his penchant for getting himself into trouble - and is demanding he wed her. The Bintanath are in an awkward position - they cannot easily refuse the demands of such a powerful Jinn, but they don't fancy their chances in a war against the Fayum. To complicate matters further, the Kheru was betrothed to one of your young highborn captains, a delicate negotiation that took much doing on your father's part, and the young captain, incensed at the slight, may do something reckless. The Bintanath have sent a delegation to petition you to help negotiate a peaceful settlement, offering to show you the location of the ruins and promising that whatever the Kheru found is far more valuable than his hand. If you do intend to get him back, time is of the essence - rare is the mortal who can resist the advances of a potent Jinn for long, and soon he may not wish to return. Alternatively, if negotiations fail and the Fayum call their banners this offers an excellent pretext for war that could see the Hematti claim valuable trade routes, slaves, plunder, and influence.

This is a nice establishing scene. There's a call to action, it introduces some NPCs, establishes the Hematti and their relationships with two immediate neighbours, and ticks off lots of Flags.

Atusa:
A Township feels like a living, breathing thing when in motion. When still it feels dead and lifeless, and this is perhaps fitting as your people would likely join it in death soon after. Each Township is composed of hundreds of large durable ironwood platforms interlinked by rope netting and canvas, each independently buoyed above the sands beneath by the howling winds tamed by Djinn bound by blood and centuries old oaths. A complex network of masts, rigging, cantilevers, and countermasses support multi-storey structures that undulate and sway as each platform crests the dunes, but never collide. Above them all are large white sails into which the Djinn drive the wind, and above even these fly hundreds of brightly coloured decorative kites and the great white kites that carry eagle-eyed scouts high above the Township to watch for distant dangers. Not all 'rooms' have solid walls or even floors, canvas and linen tents being lightweight, breathable, and easy to reconfigure to suit changing needs, and fabric or netting floors being sufficient for everything from storage areas to barracks, where most sleep in rows and stacks of hammocks.

This is your Township. There are many like it, but this one is yours. What is it called?

Your chambers have a floor and three walls of beautifully polished imported mahogany, a ceiling mosaic of bright ceramic tiles depicting your clan's founder making their first pact with a Djinn, small shrines to many deities with pride of place given to the Unconquered Sun, and an actual feather bed strewn with pillows. You've heard Nomarch Chuma Fayum commissioned a Sorcerer in Kibrat Erbettim [Capital of the Principate and the location of Ain Soph Aur] to weave him a bed of clouds. That's a little bit rich for your blood, but maybe someday you'll one up him. Where there would be a fourth wall your chamber opens onto the Canyon of Blessed Wind, the tall chamber that runs from bow to stern of every Township, open to the winds on both sides. As the ship moves wind rushes through the canyon and the columns of stacked prayer wheels it contains, each column affixed to several windmills of white canvas and ironwood by gear assemblies that drive its endless rotation. The prayer wheel closest to your quarters is the newest addition, and while it may not be the most beautiful - yet - it is the one you are most proud of, for you made it yourself from pieces salvaged from the first two floors of the White-Gold Sepulchre. The early morning sun glints beautifully off the orichalcum inscriptions extolling His virtues as it spins. It will take some doing yet to change your people's perception of the Unconquered Sun from a merciless danger to be feared and appeased to a benevolent force for good in their lives, but you are tenacious and extremely persuasive. A heavy linen curtain can be pulled across the open wall when you seek privacy, and a blessing of the Djinn ensures the wind and sand passing through the Canyon never enters - nor sounds exit.

Spoiler: Sirocco

Essence 3; Willpower 4; Join Battle: 9 dice; Personal: 80
Health Levels: −0x3/−1x2/−2x2/−4/Incap.
Actions: Wind Instruments: 9 dice; Read Intentions: 8 dice; Senses: 8 dice; Inflaming Passions: 11 dice; Social Influence: 6 dice

Appearance 4
Guile 3
Resolve 2

Aspects:
Hopeless Romantic
Flighty
Hell Hath No Fury
Intensely Curious

It would be unseemly for even a Nomarch to use water profligately, and so as part of your rituals in preparation for holding court your handmaidens Buiku and Gyasi bathe you with sponges imported from Locura and soaked in fragrant rosewater. Firelight flickers and soft music wafts through the silk curtain that divides your washbasin from the rest of your chambers, behind which the Djinn Sirocco, currently assigned to protect and entertain you, plays her flute. In her humanoid form she's lithe and athletic, composed of a combination of rippling heat-shimmer silhouettes and dancing flame, her eyes shining with such a burning curiosity it can be difficult to meet her gaze for more than a few moments. Without her blessing, the intense heat she radiates is intolerable, with it a comforting warmth in any climate.

"Dakarai [One of your captains, betrothed to Kheru Hasani Fayum] is going to be absolutely livid when she returns," Buiku gossips gleefully as she washes you.

"Buiku! How would you feel if your husband was captured by the enemy, and then ran off with a Djinn?" asks Gyasi, aghast.

Buiku gives Gyasi an incredulous look before laughing, "Relieved!"

"Imagine he wasn't a drunken lout, but instead Kheru Hasani."

"Alright, I might be a little bit disappointed, but better he run off with a Djinn than a human. Less of a blow to the ego."

Sirocco finishes her song and interjects, her voice the music of wind whistling through a canyon, "He will be happier with Aejej. It was love at first sight," her sigh of longing is a beautiful sound that puts her flute to shame, "She will love him like no human could. Radiance Atusa, I want a beautiful prince, too. Bring one to me and earn my undying love." If you had a dinar for every time you've earned Sirocco's undying love your whole clan could retire in luxury. Thankfully her attention span is short enough that if you don't swear to cater to her latest whimsical demand she's liable to forget she ever made the request by midday. An oath, however, she will take seriously and you'll never hear the end of it.

Gyasi huffs, "For all of a day until she gets bored of him."

Sirocco sighs dreamily, "And what a day it shall be! All the more reason to capture the fleeting moment with legend and song. What is it you say? 'Better to have loved and lost than never loved at all'."

Gyasi sighs, exasperated. "But what will he do afterwards?" she demands.

Sirocco looks perplexed, "I don't understand. Whatever he pleases, I imagine."

"Exactly. You don't understand," Gyasi replies, triumphant.

As she finishes washing you Buiku clears her throat, "Okay Sirocco, do your thing. And if we're handing out handsome princes, I'll take one, too." Sirocco dissolves into a squall of hot air that rushes under the curtain to envelop you, drying you from head to toe in seconds before departing the same way she came. Your handmaidens then begin the painstaking process of dressing you for court.

How do your servants dress you for holding court?

"You look so beautiful, Radiance!" exclaims Buiku, "I wish I had hair like yours."

Gyasi nods, "And your skin is always perfect. As if we need any more evidence you're beloved by the Gods."

Your court has many functionaries: the Keeper of the Amphoras who watches over the sacred water supplies, the Captain's Council, the Council of Elders, the Great Flame, and the Divine Wind, amongst others. What does your throne room look like?

The white-robed members of your personal guard come to attention and Guard Captain Gahiji, a grizzled old veteran of more engagements with the Raksha than there are grains of sand in the desert, announces you as you enter, the susurrus in the hall quieting instantly, "Her Radiance Atusa, Nomarch of the Hematti, Chosen of White-Fire Judgement, Slayer of Subahar, Warden of the Seventh Great Duneway. May her blade never dull, her hold ever be as full as her sails, and her reign be eternal!" The assembled court enthusiastically echoes the chant. You scarcely need be announced anymore, so irresistible the almost magnetic force that pulls all eyes to you the moment you step into a room, let alone speak. It's almost supernatural - even those who should by all rights be oblivious to your presence by chance glance up just in time to see others craning to see your entrance. All except your personal guard and your entourage prostrate themselves swiftly, only rising once you take your seat.

Captain Gahiji stands to the right of your throne, Sirocco kneels to the left, and the rest of your entourage find their place amongst the attendants, all resplendent in their best finery. At a gesture from you Gahiji again addresses the court, "The first petitioner may approach!"

What follows is a seemingly interminable stream of petty disputes between highborn families, tribute presented by returning captains, adjudications on water allotments, petitions to declare vendettas, and allocations of lucrative trade routes or prospecting grounds to favoured vassals, until the moment the court has been impatiently awaiting all morning: Ambassador Sebua Bintanath is, after a humbling wait, permitted to approach.

Spoiler: Ambassador Sebua Bintanath

Appearance 2
Guile 4
Resolve 3

His charming smile stands alone in a chamber of expressions ranging from guarded neutrality to outright hostility. He knows he's been snubbed on an already difficult assignment, but he doesn't let his worry show. "Your Radiance," he says with a flourishing bow, "It is, as always, a singular pleasure to attend you. I come on behalf of Nomarch Khaemwaset Bintanath bearing water, gifts - A trained Simurgh, bottled lightning, and eternal ice -, and an offer." A procession of crew carry the gifts forward as he speaks: A large amphora of water carried by two [To bring your own water is a position of neutrality with no obligations either way. To bring less water than you need is to claim a position of superiority, obliging your host to supply the difference. To bring more water than you need and gift the excess to your host says you come from a position of inferiority and respect. The Bintanath are a larger clan than the Hematti, so this is a gesture of contrition.], a gilded cage holding a large bird with feathers shining red and gold, a pillow piled with small glass bottles containing shining balls of lightning, and finally a small ornately carved ivory box containing that rarest of delicacies: A small perfectly formed cube of everlasting ice. Each are placed in turn with the pile of tribute you've received today. "It is our humble hope you feel them worthy reflections of your majesty and our gratitude for your consideration of a peaceful resolution to this most delicate of matters." He remains bowed until you give some signal to rise.

Gahiji leans toward you and whispers in your ear, "Radiance. The kites report Captain Dakarai's sandship approaches. What would you have us do with her when she arrives?"

[Hold, since I'm not sure what Atusa's Goal will be yet.]

 

[Sherwood]

When the airship makes its sudden appearance, Renna pulls back on the reins and signals a halt, looking with open curiosity at the approaching vessel. In a commanding voice, she calls out, "Stand easy, everyone. If there is trouble, you know what to do. Morrolan, you are with me. Lets go see whom is about to make our acquaintance."

She calls out in a voice that booms like thunder, clearly magically amplified, "I am Magister-Militant Saeiqa Al-Sayf of the Sassarin Principate. I would speak to your commanding officer." She holds out her arms, as if to demonstrate she has no weapons, though you seriously doubt that makes her any less dangerous. A half dozen other figures descend ropes that fall from the centre of the hull.

Renna raises up her eyebrow. "Subtle, she is not, is she? Keep your lance handy, but let us remember we are not here for a fight." She nudges Asha forward and stops a short distance away from this Magister. In a conversational tone, she says, "I am Renna, leader of the Red Arms Mercenary Company. This is my number two, Morrolan. I trust that there is not going to be any hostilities starting up here today?" Her hand idly caresses' the hilt of Adorei, trusting in the blade to do what must be done if things go south.

 

[Random Word]

John:
"You get to sate your compulsive desire to solve every puzzle and mystery you're presented with! The faster you solve it, the sooner you can sleep soundly again," Kasra smiles innocently, "It's win-win, really."

"Well, I didn't find it, but a little bird told me the Necromancer gets real jumpy whenever anyone tries to touch a certain scroll bearing an uncanny but entirely coincidental resemblance to that drawing. But never mind that. Y'know what's even better than win-win? Win-win-win! How will we achieve this trifecta of victory? I'm so glad you asked: By liberating that clearly important and quite possibly valuable scroll from the forces of evil. Did I mention she's a Necromancer?"

Renna & Morrolan:
As you approach you get a better look at Saeiqa and her compatriots. She's... striking is really the only word for it. She smells strongly of ozone. Her sharp angular features, wild mane of golden hair lit periodically by jumping sparks, and slightly luminous yellow eyes aren't beautiful, but they're difficult to ignore. Her features conspire to give her a resting expression that would put most death glares to shame. Her uniform is as impeccable as her posture. It seems to be padded like some kind of unusually thin gambeson, and the outer material has a texture like no fabric you've seen, so it's possible it could cushion a blow, though you remain skeptical at how effective it would be. Her eyes widen slightly as she gets a good look at Asha, and you can see apprehension flicker across her features.

Asha whispers in the back of your mind, This one has a beautifully singular dedication to the arts of war. A delicious clarity of purpose. I've tasted Gods less consumed by their purview. It would be tragic if we had to kill her.

Beside Saeiqa are a half dozen soldiers wearing similar uniforms escorting a man in unadorned soft blue robes. He's not unpleasant to look at, but nondescript. So much so, in fact, that it's easy to forget he's even present when not looking directly at him, and even then sometimes your eyes just sort of slide off to something more interesting without you having noticed. [1 WP to ignore this glamour effect for the scene. If you do shatter the glamour, you'll notice he is in fact standing about two metres to the left of where he appears to be, outside the circle of soldiers protecting him.]

Saeiqa is visibly uncomfortable when you provide her with only a single name and no title, but after several painfully awkward seconds she bows stiffly, "I welcome you to the Principate... Renna, Morrolan, and Master Unicorn." The bow is a swift, stiff, and entirely graceless movement. Perfunctory but serviceable. She gestures to the man beside her, reminding you jarringly that he's there, "This is Associate Magister-Militant Abdal Rashid of the Ministry of I- ... War."

Abdal Rashid rolls his eyes and smiles longsufferingly as he gives a considerably more graceful bow. "Recent transfer," he says smoothly in a soft voice barely above a whisper, "I'm sure I'll be accepted... eventually. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Out loud, Asha simply says, "Asha will suffice, sparking one."

"How... extraordinary. Yes, trust will be necessary if we are to avoid unnecessary hostilities," she nods, gesturing at the skyship, "This is a display of strength to offset a regrettable display of weakness. I cannot permit you to enter the employ of our enemies, and so I must know your intentions in Achaea. If you... if the Honourable Asha swears you are merely passing South along the Diamond Road I shall bid you swift travels and trouble you no further. Should you seek employment here, I must insist you work for me, and can permit no exceptions," she says firmly and matter of factly.

Abdal Rashid gives her a sharp look, reminding her how blunt and potentially off-putting that was, and she reluctantly, belatedly seeks to soften it somehow, "If you seek employment I can offer refreshment and respite from the heat, should you wish it. I am prepared to pay competitive rates, but will not be taken advantage of."

 

[Rykon]

John raised an eyebrow as his understudy made her case. A masterfully arm twisting argument to be sure. Still, he knew troublemaking schemes when he saw them. He rolled up the parchment and gave her a knowing glance. "Alright, let's try a different approach. What is your cut..." John tapped the rolled up drawing on her nose, teasing her with a conspiratorial grin. "...worth to you, Kasra?"

[John will accept her persuasion. John still retaliates by seeing what Kasra is willing to do or what she is willing to part with to fuel her gambling problem.]

 

[Psychie]

Morrolan will look up at Renna on her unicorn to try and get a read on her response. "Do you wish me to have a pavilion set up so we can discuss business in the shade? It can give the men a chance to get a bit of rest on the road while you talk."

 

[Random Word]

John:
Kasra's expression sours as she rubs her nose, "I'm... between windfalls. How do you feel about the barter system? I'd offer you my talents as a chef, but, well... No? Okay. If some kind soul liberates it, you identify it, it finds its way into the right hands - because it's clearly in the wrong ones now -, and those right hands see fit to generously remunerate us for our humble efforts to further the greater good, it's only fair you receive 10%. Unless you're looking for a non-monetary consideration, like my heartfelt gratitude, 'cause while my purse is a bit light at the moment my heart is fit to burst. And didn't some monk say gratitude was the currency of the gods?" She bats her eyelashes fetchingly.

An irate customer calls, "Hey, where's my order? My shift starts in twenty minutes!"

Kasra leans around the pillar separating her from the rest of the bar, "And whose fault is that? I'll be back in a minute!" She leans back, muttering darkly, the embers in her eyes threatening to ignite, "Entitled prick." She brightens, "Right, where were we?"

 

[Rykon]

John smiles warmly, giving Kasra a pat on the shoulder. "Don't count your winnings 'til the game's done Kasra. Even then, I might let you have 20% if I'm generous. That is assuming there are any actual earnings from this whole distraction." The rest that I'd give you I'd probably save as debt bailout insurance at this rate, yikes. John thought privately. "As for matters of the heart, I'm rather touched, moved even. Moved enough that I might even trust you to hold down the place on your own while I look into ways to expand this little empire." John deposited the paper in a pocket, then tied a thin cloth over his head to keep the sweat from his eyes as he spoke. "Then we'll see how much gratitude you'll have after the next raise and maybe a bit of vacation."

John entered the kitchen proper and set himself to clearing out the lunch rush. Each wok before him he managed in uncanny unison, his hands exploding into a flurry of motion. As he prepped the next dishes, the customers could all feel the rippling tremor that radiated from his cutting board. "Orders up! Dig in!" He shouted with a grin of pride, signaling the modest waiting staff to deliver orders out to the various tables and booths encircling the kitchen-side bar table. "Anyone see how long the line out there is?" Gods, I'm going to have to build multiple tiers of seating at this rate.

 

[Sherwood]

Morrolan will look up at Renna on her unicorn to try and get a read on her response. "Do you wish me to have a pavilion set up so we can discuss business in the shade? It can give the men a chance to get a bit of rest on the road while you talk."

Renna nods. "Yes. Let us discuss our future together in a more civilized manner. It won't take long to set up the tent, then we can all relax and negotiate." She slides off of the back of Asha, rubbing his snout with a gauntleted hand. "Lady Saeiqa, if you wish to gather your guards and join us? I wish to make sure that everyone is comfortable with the situation."

 

[Random Word]

Renna & Morrolan:
Asha nuzzles your hand, enjoying the affection.

Saeiqa looks slightly exasperated at Morrolan's suggestion, and downright affronted when Renna refers to her as 'Lady Saeiqa', eyes narrowing and nostrils flaring. It's painfully obvious she wears her heart on her sleeve and likely couldn't hide her emotions if her life depended on it. She's a curious choice for a diplomatic envoy.

"Magister Saeiqa. I am not some hereditary noble," she all but spits the word, "from some two bit backwater monarchy. I earned my position through the Assay," she finishes with visible pride.

"Saeiqa, calm yourself," the sudden and surprising sound of Abdal Rashid's soft voice again reminds you of his presence, "They are foreigners. They mean no offense and cannot be expected to understand. Correct politely and move on."

Saeiqa sighs and nods, "I apologize. Master Morrolan, your soldiers have marched long and far. I would not have them exert themselves on our behalf. I would be a poor host if I could not provide accomodation. Please, allow me."

She walks to the edge of the road to ensure she's a safe distance away. She concentrates for several seconds before brilliant arcs of lightning extend from her outstretched palm and begin scoring the black marks of a complex ritual circle into the desert sands. After a few seconds of this she holds her hands above her head and brings them together with a thunderous clap. The ritual circle glows fiercely for several seconds before the light condenses in a single white lotus, which blossoms to reveal a small but ornate pavilion fit to host perhaps twenty guests in opulent style, connected by a small bridge to the road. Inside you can see tables laden with fruit, nuts, and carafes of what are likely water and wine. The cool breeze wafting off the pavilion feels delightful on your skin and carries a heavenly floral scent.

Saeiqa walks across the bridge and into the pavilion, sampling a date and pouring herself water in a silver goblet. "None of it is poisoned, I assure you," she declares as she takes a swig from the cup.

Abdal Rashid sighs, "Saeiqa, I know you mean well, but that is not reassuring."

[Morrolan has a Major Distrust of Sorcerers, so I'll pause here to offer a Compel: Morrolan refuses to enter the pavilion, instead setting up his own, and offending Saeiqa in the process. She will offer no assistance with the task she assigns, withhold useful information, and form an opinion of him as a superstitious yokel. Two stages to your decision: First off you decide if this sounds like something Morrolan would do. If not, ignore it. If it is, you either accept for 3 Lunar XP and a Fate Point (bringing your balance to 2 FP), or reject for 1 WP or 1 FP and a point of Limit.]

 

[Sherwood]

"Magister Saeiqa. I am not some hereditary noble," she all but spits the word, "from some two bit backwater monarchy. I earned my position through the Assay," she finishes with visible pride.

"Saeiqa, calm yourself," the sudden and surprising sound of Abdal Rashid's soft voice again reminds you of his presence, "They are foreigners. They mean no offense and cannot be expected to understand. Correct politely and move on."

Saeiqa sighs and nods, "I apologize. Master Morrolan, your soldiers have marched long and far. I would not have them exert themselves on our behalf. I would be a poor host if I could not provide accomodation. Please, allow me."

Renna looks on at Saeiqa and holds up a hand in a disarming motion. "No offense was meant, Magister Saeiqa. As your man has indicated, we are foreigners here, and unfamiliar with the local customs and intend no disrespect."

She walks to the edge of the road to ensure she's a safe distance away. She concentrates for several seconds before brilliant arcs of lightning extend from her outstretched palm and begin scoring the black marks of a complex ritual circle into the desert sands. After a few seconds of this she holds her hands above her head and brings them together with a thunderous clap. The ritual circle glows fiercely for several seconds before the light condenses in a single white lotus, which blossoms to reveal a small but ornate pavilion fit to host perhaps twenty guests in opulent style, connected by a small bridge to the road. Inside you can see tables laden with fruit, nuts, and carafes of what are likely water and wine. The cool breeze wafting off the pavilion feels delightful on your skin and carries a heavenly floral scent.

Saeiqa walks across the bridge and into the pavilion, sampling a date and pouring herself water in a silver goblet. "None of it is poisoned, I assure you," she declares as she takes a swig from the cup.

Abdal Rashid sighs, "Saeiqa, I know you mean well, but that is not reassuring."

When Saeiqa begins to craft another spell, Renna places a hand on Morrolan's shoulder, and says in a quiet voice to hide her exasperation at the showing-off, "Be at ease, my friend. Just as we don't know of her customs, she knows little or nothing of our own feelings about sorcery. At least it is not demons, am I right?" In a louder voice, she says, "Rogosh, see to the men and horses. We have much to discuss with our host."

 

[Psychie]

Morrolan lets out a low growl at the excess that this Magister is going through in her attempt to impress them. In a quiet voice in return to Renna's comment, he says, "We are hardly hurting for funds right now. This woman is obviously trying her best to show off how powerful she is, indicating to me a real weakness somewhere here. Use caution while you negotiate with this one. I will take over for Rogosh in tending to the troops, and leave you to the task of getting some answers from this Saeiqa woman. He has a better head for numbers, and I think that if I were to have to face her for too long I may say something . . . unfortunate. I trust that if things go badly that you can hold your own long enough for me to come to your aid?" He gives her a smile at that, knowing that Renna is quite the capable bladesmaster and that she can handle her self well.

With that, the Lunar offers up a slight bow in Saeiqa's direction as he turns to deal with his responsibilities.

 

[jaydude]

As the conversation took place, Atusa was content to sit on her stool and let her two handmaidens sponge her down and then dress her. She listened patiently to them as they gushed about her beauty, even though to her, flattery was one of the more unpleasant parts of her duty. It was almost always done solely to try and butter her up for something, and to openly reject it was to risk coming off as rude, unsociable and unappreciative. She didn't mind it as much when it came from the mouths of Buiku and Gyasi; with those two, it was a means for her to practice enduring it for when it came from the mouths of others. Namely those who could cause problems for her and the Hematti if they felt she'd disrespected them.

"I am hopeful that this Djinn can be made to see sense, and that hanging onto her choice in paramour will not be worth the destruction of her clan." she said once she was dressed, standing up and turning to face the two of them with a friendly smile. "And I've said it before, but you two are no less beautiful than me. Why do you think I keep taking you into my bed, Gyasi?"

As much as Atusa personally disliked flattery, she knew that there were others who didn't mind receiving it. And she was genuinely appreciative of the beauty of both her handmaidens. They were both from other Faqari clans, each one having been taken as a hostage following war and subsequent peace negotiations. They were intended to be prisoners, albeit ones in gilded cages, but Atusa was a kind and generous mistress, and she possessed an attraction for the female form that was far greater than whatever interest she had in men. While that hadn't been enough to stop Buiku from finding herself a husband among the Faqari, Gyasi had chosen to become one of Atusa's concubines.

Turning around, Atusa pulled the silk curtain aside, revealing herself to Sirocco once again. While exploring the desert or leading her people in battle, the leader of the Hematti preferred to wear either lamellar armour or a camel-hide buff jacket. Within her mobile citadel, Atusa's courtly attire for the day consisted of a sleeveless robe of sky-blue silk that went down to her ankles and had a high slit on each side - she insisted on having full range of motion in all of her outfits - along with an ornate girdle, necklace and pair of bracelets, all made of fine bronze. To wear gold when you were subordinate to another clan was considered a mark of arrogance and disloyalty among Faqari clan leaders. Completing the outfit was a pair of calf-length leather sandals, and - to further reinforce her status as her clan's leader - a bronze diadem that resembled the head of a falcon, the bird of prey being the symbol of the Hematti clan.

Stepping out of her chamber and into the Canyon of Blessed Wind, the recently empowered Solar took a moment to look out the left and right openings, admiring the engineering marvel that was Manzil-Hematti ("Home of the Hematti" in Flametongue). It shouldn't have been possible to make settlements that could move, especially across desert dunes and shifting sands but with elbow grease, ingenuity and pacts with various Djinn, the Faqari had somehow managed it. That fact could still amaze her, even though she'd spent most of her life onboard a township. Once that had been done, she set off towards her throne room to begin her business for the day.

===

[OOC: Kinda drawing a blank regarding the throne room at the moment.]

Sitting on a magnificent throne on a raised wooden dais, Atusa listened to each petition, considered the ramifications of accepting or rejecting it, and then made her judgment accordingly. Sometimes she could grant a request without regret, sometimes she had to compromise, and sometimes she had to deal with someone who was completely unreasonable. It was hard work - albeit necessary work - and Atusa found herself sympathising with those rulers who turned to drink and drugs.

Soon enough, Ambassador Sebua came forward with his gifts and words. Atusa could hardly blame him for acting so apologetic; clans had been destroyed, and people had been left to die of thirst and heatstroke over lesser offences.

"As the leader of my clan, I welcome you to Manzil-Hematti, Ambassador." Atusa said to him in Old Realm once he had finished speaking. Immediately after hearing these words, Sebua would feel the floor beneath him become a little firmer, perhaps allowing him to relax a bit more.

[OOC: Was thinking that Atusa could have used Ship-Claiming Stance to claim the entirety of the township at some point. All Hematti, their spouses, and foreign merchants with at least semi-permanent dwellings would be treated as having Atusa's remit for the purpose of deciding whether penalties apply to them.]

"Rise." she then said, switching to Flametongue. "I am well aware of your plight, Ambassador Sebua. The prince taken by the Djinn of your clan was betrothed to one of my own people, after all. But you may rest assured that I do not blame your clan for what has happened, and that I am committed to working out a peaceful solution to this dilemma."

A small contingent of Hematti, young and old, murmured disapprovingly at this proclamation, only to fall silent when Atusa turned to look in their direction with a cool expression. No doubt these captains were hoping that this incident with the Kheru would lead to war, and with it the chance for them to spill blood and take plunder. The young possessed the greed, ambition and impetuousness of youth, whereas the old had acquired grievances, grudges and even blood feuds over periods of many years.

Atusa was distracted from these thoughts when she heard Gahiji whispering to her about Dakarai, and turned her head slightly so that she could reply in kind. "Have her told that, if she is content to wait outside the throne room while I am holding court, I will grant her a private audience afterwards. If she insists on meeting with me here in the throne room, do not try and stop her from entering, but let her know that I will not tolerate disrespect and belligerence in front of my court." she whispered. "And if you can, let me of her demeanour when she arrives, ideally before she reaches me."

She could hardly blame Dakarai for being angry in this situation. But hopefully she'd be content to stay calm and wait a bit, knowing that she could be more open with Atusa when they were safely away from the eyes of the rest of the courtiers.

[Pass, assuming the next scene is a conversation with Dakarai.]

 

[Random Word]

Renna & Morrolan
[Now that Morrolan has bowed out of the scene we'll move on as quickly as possible to being Big Damn Heroes.]
"How do you put up with this?" demands Saeiqa, indignant, seemingly to no one, as she watches Morrolan depart.

It comes as some surprise, then, when Abdal Rashid replies, suddenly sitting on a nearby divan with a goblet of wine. "Saeiqa," he says, his voice a warning that she is treading on dangerous ground.

"Superstitious barbarians," she mutters

"Saeiqa!"

"Fine, fine! Give me the most promising report," she says absently as she starts spreading maps over the table beside her. A scroll appears in her outstretched hand and she unrolls it, scanning it quickly. Her frown deepens. "The Din in Kabir? There are..." she glances up at Renna and the assembled Red Arms Company on the road, "Perhaps three hundred soldiers, and three Exalted?" She glances at Renna for confirmation, "I'm trying to keep them gainfully occupied, not get them all killed. Is this really the best you have?"

"We have treaty obligations to protect Kabir, and it represents a significant source of tin. Something must be done. Do you have anyone you can spare to deal with the problem?" he asks, knowing the answer full well.

Saeiqa glares at him, "No." Her eyes narrow as they settle on Morrolan walking back towards the company. "Fine." She selects one of the maps and pushes the others aside. "This is the mining town of Kabir, one of our tributaries, and its outlying settlements, approximately two weeks march north of here," she circles several points on the map high in the hills north of the Achaea with such aggressive strokes you're left wondering if she intends to beat the map into submission. "This is the Hall of Enduring Silence, Fortress-Manse and Sanctum of the Eight-Forged King, an unruly mountain god attempting an insurrection."

"Quite successfully, I might add," Abdal Rashid interjects cheerfully.

Saeiqa ignores him and continues, "I would hire you to help defend the town and secure the surrounding mines to the best of your ability. This is a dangerous assignment, and as such I am prepared to pay you a one talent retainer [About two months operating expenses for the company.] and a 20% cut of the market value of any tin delivered in tribute for the next full season in an account to be drawn upon in any city in the Principate [Potentially quite a lot of money, should the mines return to full capacity]. To be frank, I don't know if you and your company are up to this, but I don't have the luxury of testing you with an easier assignment right now."

---

As Morrolan approaches, the infantry lined up along the road salute smartly.

Rogosh sighs, "The things I do for you and this company, Sir. You want me to go into that... thing... willingly? Well, better me than you, I suppose. Still say you should have let me put an arrow through it from the beginning." He salutes and marches off towards the pavilion like a man going to war.

---

Renna, Rogosh, Saeiqa, and occasionally Abdal Rashid engage in a lengthy and occasionally belligerent contract negotiation as the sun sets behind them and the Red Arms Company rests by the side of the road. Eventually a deal is struck, oaths are sworn, and silver changes hands, along with several maps, your standing orders, and tokens of authority.

Do you push for better terms? How?

---

Two weeks hard marching across the broad shining Achaea, passed the eternal celebrations in the festival city of Beit Alaha, over the scorching dunes and up into the hills finally sees you arrive on the outskirts of Kabir just as the sun is setting over the mountains. It's a barren wasteland, pocked with sulfurous vents, shimmering lakes of molten mercury, and striking basalt formations jutting like knives from the flesh of the wounded earth, bleeding lava. The wind is fierce, carrying an abrasive mix of ash and sand, and food is scarce. During the day the heat is merciless, and the nights bone chillingly cold. Your soldiers are hungry, tired, and no one can get all the sand out of their clothing no matter how hard they try, but they are grateful to be once again making camp in one of the many narrow, deep canyons carved into the landscape as if by the claws of some titanic beast - at least down here the fury of the ashstorms is dulled.

The villages along your path have been very well concealed, built into the walls of deep boreholes or canyons by people deeply suspicious of outsiders and with little to spare, but their supplies could be invaluable. At the very least they can give you reasonably up to date information about the Din and Kabir. Difficulty 4 Survival + Wits roll to locate them [Or delegate to Rogosh], persuading them to help is another matter entirely. If you'd like to gain their support, propose plans/stunt how you do it. Spending a Fate Point gives you quite broad leeway to declare beneficial facts.

Rogosh slips back into camp with several of his scouts, all but invisible in the fading light except for the carcass of a large vicious looking lizard covered in black spines they carry between them. He spots Morrolan helping soldiers pitch a tent and peels off to make his report, saluting as he approaches. "Sir! Hate to be the bearer of bad tidings. Hazard of the job, I guess. We ranged as far ahead as we could. Sure enough, we're still on course and Kabir is another few hours march uproad. Bad news is the city's already well under siege. Worse news is I've now seen a Din. Right big fuckers they are. Taller and thicker even than you, with horns like Ahlat and claws like a krait dragon. The better part of a thousand of them by my count, with some kind of fire-breathing lava-bleeding siege lizards, siege towers, and some kind of... rolling temple-pyramid-thing? I don't even know how to describe it proper other than 'loud' and 'probably bad news'." He grimaces, "It looked like they were preparing for a night assault, and I don't put good odds on the walls holding against that."

[Pass - This sets up an important decision of whether to let your troops rest for the night and separately whether to send anyone to help relieve the city immediately. Innocents will certainly suffer if you don't but victory in a battle where you're outnumbered, exhausted, and unprepared against an entrenched numerically and individually superior foe will almost certainly be bought with the blood of the company. As soon as you've made your decisions and laid out your plans we'll move on to the battle, whether tonight, tomorrow, or whenever you intend to take the fight to the enemy.]

 

[Random Word]

Atusa:

Gyasi blushes fiercely and Buiku titters at your flattery. As she's lifting your hair to put in the finishing touches, Gyasi leans down and kisses the back of your neck passionately, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. A taste of what's to come this evening.

---

Gahiji nods, "Your will be done."

Ambassador Sebua rises at your command and addresses you, relieved at more than simply the sudden weight lifted from his shoulders, "Thank you, Radiance. Your mercy is a credit to your strength. We Bintanath are a proud people, and though you offer it freely we feel we cannot accept without offering something of commensurate, or, dare I say it, greater value in return." He pauses here for effect, the court abuzz with speculation - Was that a veiled insult? What could they possibly offer? The Hematti would offer intercession on behalf of the Bintanath freely, and these ingrates would even contemplate refusing? - "The offer I have been charged to present is of such a sensitive nature that I hesitate to speak of it openly. If it would not be too much of an imposition, your Radiance, I would request a private audience."

Speculation is at this point running rampant through the court. Gahiji tenses, clearly searching for some sort of elaborate assassination plot. If the Bintanath intended to make a first strike, assassinating you would be a strong first move. There is, however, no evident threat. The Ambassador is an old man, and Sirocco would see it if he were possessed by a Djinn and thus capable of more than his aging frame might suggest.

 

[jaydude]

Sitting upon her throne, Atusa crossed her ankles while pinching her chin between her thumb and index finger. It never hurt to make a show of thinking things through when you were a ruler.

"Sensitive, you say? I am intrigued. Very well, ambassador. I will meet with you in private when I am finished hearing petitions for the day." she told him. "You may wait in the antechamber; one of my guards will come for you once I am ready for you."

She had little worry with regards to Sebua. Even if he had somehow concealed his nature under the mask of an old man, he would be frisked for hidden weapons prior to the private audience, and Atusa would have her daiklaves, Sirocco and Gahiji close at hand when the time came for it.

With two upcoming private audiences, and the most important petitioners having been seen to, Atusa opted to end court early for the day, standing up from her throne and returning to her chambers for a quick wash. Even a Solar could benefit from a little relaxation prior to a meeting. Once that was done, and she had picked up her weapons, she headed to a small meeting room that was off to the side of the Canyon of Blessed Wind, sitting down at the end of an ornate wooden table to await Sebua.

[Pass. Would like to meet Sebua first.]

 

[Random Word]

Hazel:

Spoiler: Zahur, Vessel of Sekhenun

Zahur:
Essence 1; Willpower 8; Join Battle: 5 dice;
Health Levels: −0x1/−1x2/−2x2/−4/Incap.
Actions: ???

Appearance 1
Guile 2
Resolve 4

Aspects:
???

Vessel of Sekhenun, Fourth Pharaoh of Ea-Abzu:
Essence 5; Willpower 9; Join Battle: 12 dice; Personal: 110
Health Levels: −0x1/−1x2/−2x2/−4/Incap.
Actions: ???

Appearance 1
Guile 4
Resolve 7

Aspects:
???

You identify the least populated section of deck on your destination ship, leaping gracefully from a passing sampan peddling fresh fruit and other commestibles to vessels stuck waiting in line to land on the railing, then bounding down into the shadow of the superstructure without anyone noticing you. It becomes immediately and alarmingly evident why this entire half of the deck is empty as you lay eyes on the one notable exception. Surrounded by three tall, thin, six armed forms wrapped head to toe in purple linen such that not an inch of skin is visible sits a small woman - a girl, really - in a long crimson robe decorated with a golden jackal-headed canopic jar, her face covered with golden veils. She sits on a cushion before a low table with a bag of what appears to be scrolls hanging from a belt at her side, one of which is unrolled on the table before her. A second low table sits beside the first, laden with half of an immense breakfast.

Curiosity may have killed the cat, but you aren't dead yet, and her half-eaten breakfast fit for half a dozen smells delicious even over the thick scent of frankincense coming off her towering guardians. As you approach you get a better look at both her and her guardians, and realize with some alarm that all you smell inside the linen wrappings are old bones. Judging by the light that filters through their wrappings, bones too thick to be human. The bones are bound together to create three metre tall war machines, armed with shield, spear, four scimitars, and javelins besides, all in shining bronze, all currently sheathed. Little wonder the rest of the passengers have opted to cede the front half of the ship.

The girl herself is much less intimidating, both small in stature and sleight of frame. She's carefully, painstakingly writing something in the scroll before her, and much to your surprise the scroll is writing back. The bone constructs ignore you as you pad closer to get a better look, and you are perplexed to see what appears to be a basic flametongue writing exercise, poorly done. The scroll is displaying characters of the alphabet, and the girl is trying to recreate them while the scroll offers corrections and helpful advice. She looks up suddenly and you both freeze as your eyes meet.

Beneath the waif's veils you can make out a sallow, almost emaciated face decorated with elaborate arcane tattoos and marred by some unfortunate scars. She can't be any older than you. You've seen faces like this, growing up in Greyfalls. Too many of them, maybe. If there's one group that even orphaned street urchins count themselves lucky to be above, it's those slaves set to hard labour in the plantations and mines. She's put on weight, but you would recognize someone once on the edge of starvation anywhere. You don't need her to take off her robes to see the scars that almost certainly criss cross her back in your mind's eye.

Her eyes widen, "Kitty! Oh, you look so soft and fluffy, not like the cats in the fields. They bite. You're not going to bite me, are you? Maybe if I feed you..." she turns and looks over the spread laid out on the table beside her, selecting a small earthenware platter with an untouched fillet of grilled fish, and oh so slowly, gently extending it out towards you, as if one wrong move might send you scampering away. "Are you hungry? Please be hungry. It's okay if you bite," she implores softly, "just don't run away. Please."

 

[D. Rex]

The sun sucked. Enough so that Hazel declined the comfort of of cloud travel and spent most of her trek across the south underground. The cool dark underground.

It had been a long time since she had used the form, but never before was she more glad to have bit into a creatures warm heart than she was of the eight tales mole hound that she hunted a couple years ago. Made this this trek much more bearable. To a degree.

Still, it was not fun. Trying to avoid the towns, Hazel found her own food. Things she would much rather not eat. Drinking hearts blood was one thing, but eating raw vermin and bugs was another. Even if the animal form she used to hunt did not mind it. She most certainly would never want to see another scorpion again.

Thankfully. She would not have to, for as she came to the wall and the river, opportunities presented themselves. Blessed water! No more sucking on underground mud for moisture. The mole hound would drink freely from its banks as it watched boats and slaves go about their business in the business.

Now wouldn't that just be a much better way to travel.

___

The feline nimbly made its way across the river pier, moving along the shadows of people and cargo. An easy enough task for her. Nobody ever noticed domestic cats in most places, and even if they did. These people seemed to love cats! And why wouldn't they?

Safe amongst the shade of the ship, Hazel would take the liberty to wander around. Dodging feet, and peeking into things, all the things curious cats do. Hazel knew how to play her role well as a cat. She had seen many in her time, and was one herself. Learning to act like one came with being able to turn into one.

So when it came that her curiosity lead her to some girl, Hazel never flinched when the girl looked her way. Cats didn't do that. Cats didn't care. So she just stared back.

How curious. What strange constructs to have as ones company. Animated death, it was enough to wonder if the girl had some connection to the local necromancer. Even so... those beings seemed quite advanced for one so young.

So young... no. That girl was no younger than she herself was. While the arcane tattoos stood out, it was the scars that left an impression. Bringing up memories that Hazel believed was old. A slave girl. Just thinking back to Greyfalls, she had seen many. She never considered herself lucky, but being an urchin was better than that sort of life. The girl though, she was better off now. Like Hazel did when she left, the girl had put on weight. That was a good sign. Maybe the girl found a way to escape the bad life as she did... by finding magic. For there was certainly magic here. The magical scroll (surely an artifact of some sort!). The tattoos. The constructs.

It did pull at her heart, feeling for the girl. And the promise of the proffered fish didn't hurt. But... but, sometimes it was nice to be nice. And the girl did seem excited to see an animal. Whatever journey the girl was on, or where she had come from. The small comfort of a cat would probably make her day. And Hazel would get a full belly of not bugs, and a chance to sate her curiosity. Win win!


"Mer-r-r-r-ow." Hazel said. Twitching her tail as it stuck up in the air. Showing she was unafraid, and very interested in the food. A couple of steps forward, before passing, then continuing. Sniffing at the food, before touching it with her nose.

No. Hazel was no wild cat. Definitely a house cat, and from her behavior, easy to believe as domesticated and used to people. No. She would not run away from the girl. Or shy away from her touch.


Random Word

 

[D. Rex]

Hazel was being as non descript as possible. Though that was not easy given her shadow and form. But she managed, somehow. Her clothes were dusty and a bit tattered. Fitting amongst the peasants and low class. She hid much of her face with a thin scarf, that she had used to keep from breathing in sand when the winds hit. It only covered the lower half, it wasn't perfect but it helped. To protect herself and Erembour from the sun, Hazel was adorned with a wide woven reed hat.

It was no... grand costume... but it worked. Thougj she missed her flamboyant cape and hat. Oh well... a low profile was probably for the best anyway. And speaking of low profile... she was at a kitchen.

Why her amulet pointed her here, she had no idea. Hazel was honestly expecting some sort of temple or fortress. Not a... cafeteria. Yet, the mighty all knowing amulet had spoken.


So what now? She would get in line and wait. Sure, she had no money. But it would at least get her in and give her time to look the place over. Maybe the Glorious Golden Queen she was looking for was just hungry. Maybe amongst the tables or bar.


Random Word Rykon

 

[Rykon]

The interior of Barker's Alley was moderately spacious for a diner. Booths and tables lined the borders of a U-shaped walkway surrounding an open kitchen flanked on all sides by bar tables. A host of playful aromas wafted across the building and even out into the street. The temptation of savory, spicy, and sweet dishes mingled into an inviting waltz of fragrance building anticipation for those waiting in line.

With John joining Kasra to get through the lunch rush, he hoped to keep much of the fluid traffic moving. Some cliques of regular patrons gathered about various corners of the room while others were merely passing through before returning to work. With lines like this, John was more than happy to expedite their passing. Dish after dish hustled its way across the wooden floors of the aging restaurant. Those sitting at the bar table began to see frequent glares from the staff washing dishes in the back, still the young owner of the establishment continued to build up his pace to churn through the line of hungry, waiting patrons.

Much of the diners at Barkers were of the merchant or peasant class. An occasional merchant prince might make an entry, tantalized by the dancing scents luring them in. Today, however, such esteemed clientele was notably, blessedly absent so far. Upon entering the humble historical eatery, a prospective customer would find a short entryway with a clear view of the bar and kitchen where John and Kasra were hard at work. The entry way itself had modest signage in both Flametongue and Riverspeak. 'Sit wherever you like, respect your fellows, and enjoy your meal!' Opposite to the sign was a single host often busying herself collecting checks as diners departed.

 

[Random Word]

Atusa:
Gahiji looks unamused as he enters the meeting room where you sit with light refreshments. "Dakarai is a raging sandstorm. She could not be trusted to behave herself at court, and refused to wait, so we restrained her. We will bring her to account for herself at your leisure."

Ambassador Sebua is ushered into the room by your personal guard shortly thereafter, and prostrates himself until you instruct him to rise. "Your Radiance, thank you for granting my humble request. I bring tidings from Nomarch Khaemwaset Bintanath. Blessed are the winds, for they carry change this season. These winds of change carried us when we found something amongst the shifting sands that is precious beyond measure. Jealous hands will undoubtedly grasp for it, and we will need the strength to demonstrate their place is not so high above us as it once was. The gods smile upon us in this, for we did not find one such treasure, but two. We are daring, and brave, but not so foolhardy as to think we can do this alone. We are generous to our allies, and would be honoured to count the Hematti amongst them. Nomarch Khaemwaset recognizes there is blood between our people, but he believes this was at the behest of hands on high, and that in clashing we have established a level of mutual respect that may become the foundation for a strong future in a world where the only hands who guide us are our own."

"My lord understands this is not a decision to be made lightly. He asks only that you consider it, and offers a standing invitation to meet to discuss terms."

[The implication is clear: The Bintanath have found something they believe is so powerful their lords the Yafeu would seize it immediately, and thus they are presented with three choices: Hide it and thus gain little, surrender it meekly, or fight for it. This find will make them significantly more powerful, but not powerful enough to rebel against the Yafeu and risk a war against the Hematti and Fayum. The ambassador implies an alliance of the Hematti and Bintanath, coupled with whatever this is, might be enough to defy both the Yafeu and Fayum, winning independence and becoming a new major power.]


Hazel:
Zahur bundles you up in her arms and sits you on her lap before the table, the platter of fish beside you, and pets you happily as you purr. "Oh, you are so soft! And so pretty. I'm happy you're here. I'm going to call you Bes, because you bring joy. Hello, Bes. I'm Zahur." She shakes your paw and beams at you. "Everyone else is scared of me, but not you." She sighs and her mood shifts, suddenly despondent, "I didn't think this was going to be so... lonely." She continues quietly, "Can I tell you a secret, Bes? You can't tell anyone. I'm really not sure I can do this. A lot of people are going to starve if I don't. I promised I was up to it. Sekhi," she looks briefly mortified, "Don't tell her I called her that, okay? My enlightened ancestor is counting on me, but I've never been this far from home before, everyone here hates me, and this is the easy part."

She looks up at the falls with wonder and trepidation, "I know I can call on her for help, but she's so busy, and important, and wonderful -" her face lights up as she speaks, "Oh! Bes, look at this!" She lifts you up so your front paws are on the desk and you're right above the scroll she was working on. Up close and personal you can see the scroll isn't made of paper at all, but some kind of cloth-of-moonsilver weave with a lengthy embossed inscription in Old Realm around the borders. From only the fragments you can see you recognize an archaic prayer to Phyre, the Third Eye Pyramid, the aspect of Luna devoted to wisdom and guidance, shining light on dark and hidden roads. You can see a stylized variant of its symbol on the end caps of the umbilicus around which the scroll is wound. It's beautiful, and almost certainly priceless. Zahur grasps her quill, which has no ink on it, and continues her writing exercise as you watch, "Can you believe it? An enlightened ancestor is teaching me how to read and write," she says this with such awe that it's clear this carries some kind of deep cultural significance, "Like a real person." You have a sneaking suspicion this artifact was designed to do something more significant than teach children literacy, but it's doing an admirable job regardless, guiding with boundless patience and skillful instruction.

"Everyone in my family took the Gate during exam night. I always stubbornly sat staring at those letters in the hopes they'd make sense. Eventually I got so fed up I yelled at Hanama," she sounds incredulous at her own audacity, "to teach me how to read it, but she just stared at me with those cold eyes and said nothing. I hate her. Sekhi says I could have been a Sorcerer, can you believe it, Bes? That Hanama betrayed me, and failed in her duty. That once I learn to read, and a bunch of other things, she can teach me Necromancy. Then, some day, I'm going to sit the Assay again - I know we aren't supposed to any more, don't tell anyone - and I'm going to get all the questions right, and when Hanama invites me to Ain Soph Aur, I'm going to tell her to fuck off, because my mistress is better. She actually cares about me. I'm a real person to her," she declares this with such vehemence her quill snaps in her hand.

Erembour stirs fitfully from her slumber deep in the prison within your soul, muttering something in her sleep, "This one has a Mara-beloved darkness sleeping in her shadow, cursed of the silver sands. Beware its ire should it wake, kitten. The waif walks the path to my selfsame darkness, my little loving shadow, by the fond light of the moon."

"Oh, sands. Well, I have more of those, but I guess writing isn't very exciting to you, is it, Bes? Lamadu, please make a mouse to entertain Bes." The scroll obligingly creates a mouse from tiny chains of the Old Realm character for mouse and has it scamper across the page.

The instinct to bat it with your paw is strong. Do you resist it? If you touch the scroll it will greet you in Old Realm as Chosen. Zahur will not recognize the significance unless you show obvious intelligence by continuing to interact with the scroll, but if Zahur reports it when Sekhenun next checks in on her Vessel she will deduce the truth of your Exalted nature. If you maintain your cover as a cat, Zahur will let you come and go as you please while she returns to her studies. Possibly Compel-Worthy, but I don't see any Aspects or Intimacies that would fit, only really the instinct of the cat form.

[Pass - You've learned a lot about Zahur, and if you keep your cover nothing more exciting will happen. If you would like to accomplish something in the scene you can still act, otherwise you can just declare this scene complete.

A different angle for a compel aligned with your aspects might be to have to sun or the ship move such that the area where Zahur sits (under a canopy I forgot to mention) is suddenly in direct sunlight and your shadow reveals you as no ordinary cat.]

 

[Sherwood]

As they negotiate, Renna will do her best to push for the best treatment of the men under her command, and try to get as much information on the situation around them. Who are the major players in the area? What kind of mandate will the Red Arms be given to enforce?