The Best Laid Plans of Gods and Men

[Random Word]

Secrets Yet Untold, Things Desired and Feared, and Horrors Best Unknown.

 

[Random Word]

The concision of Old Realm is legendary amongst poets, orators, and commanders alike. Volumes can be contained in the many directional readings of remarkably small selections of characters precisely arranged, or the stress and intonation of an order hastily shouted over the terrible din of battle. It seems unlikely one of the design considerations for the Primordials in crafting the beautiful tongue was communicating orders to distant and dutiful members of the Bureau of Destiny through the arrangement of fish in koi ponds, discarded wine bottles and assorted detritus glimpsed through grudgingly-opened eyes after a night of revelry, wind-blown laundry hung out over bustling back alleys when viewed from precisely the correct balcony, or the prosaic but traditional arrangement of leaves at the bottom of one’s morning tea, and yet some days it still strikes you as remarkable how much your superiors can cram into such a small space, and how rarely they must resort to letters found in formerly empty pockets, shoes, or unwittingly delivered with the cheque at your favourite teahouse.

Today is not one of those days. Brevity may be the soul of wit, but today’s orders don’t inspire humour. Two characters in an unambiguous vertical:

[Tapestry - Destiny - Loom]
[A compound character composed of
Swift - Sure - Yellow + Route - Journey - Path.
Its most common readings in Directional tongues include:
Straight line - Hypotenuse - Minimal distance - Best speed]

Report to the Loom, Immediately.

[Tell us how you were engaged in activities crucial to advancing the aims of Heaven when you were interrupted. You’re encouraged to interpret that as creatively and liberally as you please. Amahle, additionally tell us how you notify Garret if he isn’t already with you.

If anyone needs help, send me a message in OOC about what kind of scene you’d like. I’ll set it, you close it. If you’d prefer you can just skip to the moment you join everyone, but it’s a good opportunity to show everyone something important about your character.]

----

A great peal of thunder heralds your almost simultaneous arrival. You are nothing if not agents of destiny. Mars is in the lead, and the Golden Barque has almost completed its daily transit, barely visible amidst the roiling thunderheads and driving rain. This is a night for the gods of storms, chaos, and revelry to party, and everyone else to stay inside with a nice cup of tea, but duty calls.

The Loom is to some a sacred place, to others merely a powerful tool, but in all cases its maintenance is crucial to the proper functioning of Creation. Dust and dirt are the enemy. Not so much as a stray hair can be allowed to fall uncaught. After being ushered through several layers of well guarded and heavily warded gates with nods and familiar greetings - except for Garret, who weathers more than one suspicious stare and cold look - you reach the antechamber, washing your feet in ceremonial basins, passing through a decontamination chamber where a warm meadow breeze and gentle sunlight cleanses you of all earthly impurities - trips to the Loom have replaced bathing for more than one busy Sidereal, making offerings at the shrines of the pattern spiders and other spirits of the Loom, and donning the obscenely comfortable slippers arrayed neatly beside the door before stepping out onto the catwalk, awash in the soft susurrus of a canyon of colourful silk strands without number endlessly rushing over one another in their descent.

Spoiler: Shi-Vash

Shi-Vash, you find a small card inside your right slipper, cream coloured and faintly redolent of anise, upon it a note scrawled in emerald green ink in a familiar messy hand, “I’m so excited for you! =) I’ve left you a little something. I hope it helps. Ask the old monk at the gate when you see him. Say goodbye for me.”

Spoiler: Cinerea

Cinerea, in your slipper you find a small red candle inlaid with starmetal prayers for justice and salvation, and wrapped around it is a jasmine scented silk ribbon with beautiful Old Realm brushwork in a style popular in the High Western Shogunate:

To my little cup of joy,
You simply won’t believe who I had tea with last night. Rashan said she had an extra candle, with all the forms filled out from an operation that was cancelled, and did I have anyone who might find a use for it. Well, naturally I thought of you, on your first independent assignment, and the perils you might face. We toasted your health, and she assured me that should you use it against the enemies of Heaven you will not be judged harshly.
Warm regards from your friend,
- Ohanlei

After you read the ribbon it dissolves into a cloud of matcha perfume. It’s a Beacon of Divine Wrath. Lighting it will summon a detachment from the Aerial Legion to scour the target you name with lightning and hurricane force winds. Politically fraught, best used only in a dire emergency, but invaluable. These are rarely handed out to agents, and used more rarely still. There will definitely be an audit if you light it, but at least you might live to attend it.

The slippers are one of the best perks of visiting the Loom. You’ve heard rumour they were crafted by the Great Maker himself under the direction of Venus when he worked with the Maidens in designing the Loom. Myriad attempts to steal a pair have all ended in terrible misfortune, earning the ire of the pattern spiders in the process, and the slippers inevitably find their way back to their appointed place - all, that is, except a single pair, conspicuously, unnervingly absent in the neatly arranged rows. See the bottom of enough cups and someone will declare that’s the real reason Rakan Thulio was cast from Heaven, and the secret to his longevity.

At the end of the central catwalk the path splits into a ring surrounding the highest level view of destiny: The destinies of peoples, cultures, great heroes, vast geographies, and overarching trends. Pattern spiders are rarely seen here, for this view is carefully curated by functionaries responsible for prioritizing destiny - and ensuring this overview is pleasing to their superiors. This ring is always crowded, but it is not your destination today, and instead you turn onto one of the ramps radiating out from it, descending into a seemingly endless warren of branching passages weaving their way through the vast canyons of silk cascading over starmetal wheels that make up the internals of the Loom. Near the surface these corridors are frequently full of gods studying some specific aspect of destiny. Today you are ushered past precipitation on the shores of the Cinder Coast, child births among a particular Patrician House of the Realm, and the flow of smuggled goods to and from Wu Jian, but those who wander deeper can easily find empty corridors they can repurpose for their own ends. The Loom exists in too many dimensions to possibly view them all at once, but it is a keenly intelligent creation, surfacing the threads it deems most pertinent to any query if you concentrate. No one knows the extent of the passageways, and rumours of curious gods who set out in the First Age to see how far they go and have yet to return inspire most who descend to leave a trail of string hung from hooks at regular intervals to ensure they can find their way back out and avoid the embarrassment of having to interrupt a pattern spider’s work to guide them.

Small pattern spiders are everywhere if you look closely enough, and the spider on Shi-Vash’s shoulder waves and chitters happily to several as they pass [Shi-Vash, name your pattern spider, and choose its college!] but larger pattern spiders, or more likely one of their limbs, are more frequently seen the deeper one goes, reaching through curtains of silk to make small corrections - deftly tying threads together, rearranging them, or cutting them short. Rarely does a problem command the attention of more than a single limb. To see a full pattern spider of significant size indicates a drastic alteration to the plans of destiny indeed. You are entirely unsurprised, then, to see a pattern spider nearly the size of a horse devoting its full attention to containing the disaster unfolding before you when you reach your destination. You would be summoned so urgently for nothing less.

The spider on Shi-Vash's shoulder whispers in her ear in awe, "The Obdurate Mender, from the Frayed Thread Society. Under the Captain. It doesn't take any regular weaving, only the really tangled conflicts. I've never seen it work before! Don't distract it."

On a circular promontory extending from the catwalk are a small crowd of attendants at temporary desks in a makeshift situation room centered around several gods. The inbox is stacked high, and if the looks on the faces of the gods processing its contents are any indication, it contains nothing good. Probably a whole lot of angry demands for information or action from other departments upset their submitted plans are in disarray. Xaos, He who Peers Beyond the Veil, a senior director of the Division of Secrets, is ensconced in a palanquin with heavy bamboo veils, while Ydia, Sub-Director of Looted Tombs, liaison from the Bureau of Humanity, bright eyed and smiling, scroll cases at her waist and lengths of rope over her shoulder, stands nearby. Three other gods are in attendance: A tree hung heavy with fruit redolent of sickly sweet decay, a whirling tornado full of scrolls being passed to it by attendants, and a serpent man with shattered manacles and a tattered naval officer’s uniform. They are all looking a month into the future where threads are rapidly fraying, snarling, or outright snapping faster than the spider can weave threads new and distant to contain the damage.

The assembled gods, arguing quietly, fall silent as you approach. “Chosen! Good, good, you’re here,” comes a hearty cry from within the palanquin, carrying clearly over the noise of the Loom, “Go, go, hand out the orders. We will begin the briefing at once.” An attendant quickly distributes an unadorned scroll sealed with the mark of Jupiter in green wax to each of you with a bow. Xaos continues in a booming baritone, “Three months ago a small error in destiny went overlooked in Wu Jian. The Scavenger Lord Bright Pearl made a journey in contravention of his destiny to the Eternal Storm, a mobile Class 7 Forbidden Zone situated on the back of the great Elemental Nanihonu, who is dutifully maintaining the dragon lines of the west.”

Ydia interjects cheerfully, “It contains the sunken and buried ruins of the ancient city of Anuradsana, and a lovely selection First Age tombs, including that of several particularly troublesome purged Celestials fully furnished with lavish grave goods, wondrous panoplies, spectacular sorceries, and extensive libraries, all of which have been superbly preserved, just waiting for someone to -”

Xaos abruptly interrupts her before she can complete that thought, “Thank you Ydia, for that context, thank you. And we would like to keep them that way. Superbly preserved. Not a mote of dust out of place. No one outside the zone should know they exist. As I was saying. Bright Pearl was not mentioned in any reports from within the zone. He was assumed dead, and destiny amended accordingly. Five days ago he was reported at sea by a passing Huraka, but the report took three days to correlate,” he pauses and the tornado mutters something inaudible. “Corrective measures were attempted immediately.” The subtle ripples in destiny left by Bright Pearl’s initial voyage are difficult but possible to make out. The ripples of his return voyage are unmistakable.

“A great storm destined to sink his vessel deftly avoided,” grumbles Xaos.

“A minor miscalculation! You should have authorized a larger storm!” rumbles the tornado.

“Spoilage of his provisions averted.“

“We politely and humbly request the honourable Director instruct his ineffectual inferiors to properly fill out the requisition forms as directed. We did not see any of the boxes for magical preservation ticked,” replies the tree in a singsong as sickly sweet as its odour.

“A mutiny defused.”

“A misssscommunication,” hisses the snake-man. “It will not happen again,” he spits.

“He has reached the port of Lantana, a minor outlying Satrapy of House Peleps, bearing a cargo of treasures he claims are from the Realm Before, and begun spreading tales of more, seeking funding for a second expedition.” Already you can see hundreds of destined journeys are being abandoned, battles reconsidered, endings avoided, secrets revealed, even a destined marriage called off, all radiating out from this single chain of snapped and unwoven threads-to-be, but everything gets spectacularly worse a few weeks out, countless plans unravelling or tangling irreparably, the spider struggling simply to contain the damage and prevent it from cascading to the rest of the Coral archipelago. The tiny spider on Shi-Vash’s shoulder chitters in dismay and nervously rubs its forelegs together.

Almost as alarming is the tangled mess that is the present - a shocking number of disparate notable destinies have been tied together in the port, some by very long journeys indeed. You could scarcely imagine a more fertile ground in which Bright Pearl might plant his seed. The port must have well over a hundred ships from around the West and beyond, and the better part of half a Ledaal legion in transit.

“Find who or what is responsible for this affront to destiny and terminate them with extreme prejudice. Correct the error. The contents of the storm are to be concealed by any means necessary. Prevent any from venturing there. If they do, they must depart learning nothing of consequence. Find out how the captain made it into the zone, and prevent it from happening again. Ensure the zone is secure.”

“Oh, by the way,” interjects Ydia casually, “If any of the tombs happen to be looted, I’d really appreciate itemized inventories of everything-”

“Do not permit any tombs to be looted!” warbles Xaos angrily, his voice suddenly jumping up an octave, “Open your scrolls!”

“Right, right, of course, but if by chance… Well, you know where to find my office,” Ydia smiles enthusiastically.

Breaking the seal and unfurling the scroll reveals a ciphered text that you can read effortlessly - a for your eyes only cipher. It seems every member of this little emergency convention has tacked on riders:

1. Find the source of the deviation from destiny and administer Heaven’s justice.
2. Prevent the secrets of the Anuradsana Forbidden Zone from disseminating.
3. Ensure the security of Lantana and the timely deployment of the Ledaal legion. Do not permit the deviation to disrupt the negotiations between Ledaal and Peleps.
4. Determine how the captain Bright Pearl traversed the storm, and whether the coven of Storm Mothers are derelict in their duty to Heaven.
5. Verify the contents and security of two maximum priority and seven moderate priority tombs within the zone.
6. Investigate whether local deities are derelict in their duties, and how the captain managed to obtain these relics without any mention in their reports.
7. Ensure the people of the zone do not develop past appointed limits, and refresh any necessary cultural engineering to maximize xenophobia and hostility to outsiders.
8. Ensure Nanihonu does not come to harm, and its duties are not disrupted.

Below your orders there is an index of items transferred to Secure Reading Room Emerald-3 in the Forbidding Manse, naming it your collective library for the duration of this assignment. If this index is accurate, the executive summary of the contents of the room runs to 73 pages, and there are hundreds of boxes of supplementary documents. Hundreds more are listed as ‘Available Contingent Upon Need to Know’. There are several paragraphs of warnings detailing each of the different codes and statutes that would be violated should one remove any of these materials from Secure Reading Room Emerald-3.

A note is scrawled at the bottom, added after the convention had sealed the official orders: An internal investigation is searching for signs of collusion or coordination between the 2373 sponsors of the 127 destinies rated Significant Undertaking and above that have been deemed Significant Contributing Factors for the unusual concentration of volatile elements in Lantana port. A Major Threats Taskforce has been assembled to investigate the theory that a sophisticated conspiracy with broad influence is responsible. Do not discuss classified investigations in progress, and report any signs of Heavenly corruption or collusion securely to the Division of Secrets Convention on Heavenly Affairs.

It glows faintly green and vanishes after you read it.

“Congratulations, Chosen. You're in the thick of it now. Requisition forms in the inbox! Questions?”

 

[jaydude]

[Tell us how you were engaged in activities crucial to advancing the aims of Heaven when you were interrupted. You’re encouraged to interpret that as creatively and liberally as you please. Amahle, additionally tell us how you notify Garret if he isn’t already with you.

If anyone needs help, send me a message in OOC about what kind of scene you’d like. I’ll set it, you close it. If you’d prefer you can just skip to the moment you join everyone, but it’s a good opportunity to show everyone something important about your character.]

If there was one thing that Shi-Vash liked about her work, it was the thrill and challenge of extracting knowledge from within dangerous circumstances. She was engaged in one such venture right now, in a tomb that long predated the rise of the Scarlet Dynasty, and was supposedly home to things that could be of great benefit even to Heaven.

Of course, she was hardly the only one who desired to know such things.

"I'll grant that your master wasn't expecting someone like me to get involved here." she said, driving the blade of Conspirator's Glint right through the face of the Guild's mercenary. "But he could at least make this more of a challenge."

The mercenary had no reply other than to collapse onto the floor as Shi-Vash withdrew her blade, joining his two-dozen compatriots currently laying strewn throughout the tomb. The black-haired woman knelt down and wiped the blood off on the man's trousers, and turned around to continue her investigation.

"Ugh...you...wretched bitch..." another mercenary managed to gasp from his position on the floor. He couldn't do much more than that, owing to the bloody wound in his neck.

Shi-Vash raised an eyebrow. "Oh? I thought death was something to be desired to the people of Skullstone. Then again, you're probably not going to be allowed into the nobility there." she said, an amused smile on her mouth.

She walked towards him, thinking that she should at least put him out of his misery, when she saw the characters etched onto a wall that had very much been bare of such things earlier.

She sighed. This was far from one of her favourite occasions to be interrupted on, but orders from Heaven were orders. At least the tomb's secrets would remain hidden for a while, unless the Guildsman who was also interested in them was able to find a Dragon-blooded or rogue Lunar he could hire. The traps within had saved Shi-Vash the trouble of killing some of the mercenaries.

Shi-Vash, you find a small card inside your right slipper, cream coloured and faintly redolent of anise, upon it a note scrawled in emerald green ink in a familiar messy hand, “I’m so excited for you! =) I’ve left you a little something. I hope it helps. Ask the old monk at the gate when you see him. Say goodbye for me.”

Shi-Vash gave a fond smile as she read the note from Yangmei, her mentor within the Division of Secrets. The older Sidereal had once been so taciturn with her, seeing only a future colleague who wouldn't necessarily measure up to the required standards, but now it was like she considered Shi-Vash an honorary niece.

At the end of the central catwalk the path splits into a ring surrounding the highest level view of destiny: The destinies of peoples, cultures, great heroes, vast geographies, and overarching trends. Pattern spiders are rarely seen here, for this view is carefully curated by functionaries responsible for prioritizing destiny - and ensuring this overview is pleasing to their superiors. This ring is always crowded, but it is not your destination today, and instead you turn onto one of the ramps radiating out from it, descending into a seemingly endless warren of branching passages weaving their way through the vast canyons of silk cascading over starmetal wheels that make up the internals of the Loom. Near the surface these corridors are frequently full of gods studying some specific aspect of destiny. Today you are ushered past precipitation on the shores of the Cinder Coast, child births among a particular Patrician House of the Realm, and the flow of smuggled goods to and from Wu Jian, but those who wander deeper can easily find empty corridors they can repurpose for their own ends. The Loom exists in too many dimensions to possibly view them all at once, but it is a keenly intelligent creation, surfacing the threads it deems most pertinent to any query if you concentrate. No one knows the extent of the passageways, and rumours of curious gods who set out in the First Age to see how far they go and have yet to return inspire most who descend to leave a trail of string hung from hooks at regular intervals to ensure they can find their way back out and avoid the embarrassment of having to interrupt a pattern spider’s work to guide them.

"And I thought the Imperial City was an urban marvel." Shi-Vash said, still enthralled by the scale of fate's workings years after her Exaltation.

Small pattern spiders are everywhere if you look closely enough, and the spider on Shi-Vash’s shoulder waves and chitters happily to several as they pass [Shi-Vash, name your pattern spider, and choose its college!] but larger pattern spiders, or more likely one of their limbs, are more frequently seen the deeper one goes, reaching through curtains of silk to make small corrections - deftly tying threads together, rearranging them, or cutting them short. Rarely does a problem command the attention of more than a single limb. To see a full pattern spider of significant size indicates a drastic alteration to the plans of destiny indeed. You are entirely unsurprised, then, to see a pattern spider nearly the size of a horse devoting its full attention to containing the disaster unfolding before you when you reach your destination. You would be summoned so urgently for nothing less.

The spider on Shi-Vash's shoulder whispers in her ear in awe, "The Obdurate Mender, from the Frayed Thread Society. Under the Captain. It doesn't take any regular weaving, only the really tangled conflicts. I've never seen it work before! Don't distract it."

"You're the expert, Zhīzhū." Shi-Vash replied, giving her friend from the College of the Key a cautious grin. In truth, she was curious about what had caused this literal tangle in destiny, and whether it was the reason she had been recalled.

===

Oh dear.

That was the main thought going through Shi-Vash's mind as she listened to the briefing and report on everything currently going wrong. No wonder there was such a massive knot in the loom, and no wonder their superiors wanted a full Fellowship and a Lunar to deal with it.

It probably also explained some of the cheeriness in Yangmei's note.

"I presume we have permission to kill Bright Pearl during this assignment?" she asked, voicing what she felt to be the most obvious first step. "He seems to be the lynchpin of this whole incident, if not the pair of hands that placed it. And if we could play it off as a terrible curse he was struck with while in Anuradsana, that may well discourage others from wanting to go there."

 

[Random Word]

"Bright Pearl is expendable," replies Xaos grudgingly, in what is now approaching a high pitched squeak, somewhat undermining the gravitas of discussions of life and death import, "Make an example of him if you must, but mark my words, if a mere mortal is responsible for this, I'll hang up my hat and retire to the Wyld!"

 

[Esbilon]

Spirited Breath still cannot quite believe what her life has become. The fighting that defined her youth still burns in her heart, but her mind realizes that the war itself is over. That does not mean that there are no actions to be taken, no grudges to be held, or no revenge to come, but it does mean that she can focus on other things. Such as doing the work to keep Creation functioning - something she had never thought could even be in question before.

She is in a village somewhere in the Hundred Kingdoms. She would probably be unable to find it on a map if someone were to ask her about it a week from now, but that does not very much matter to her or to the people here. No one here has heard of Spirited Breath, Goldenseal, or barely even House Ledaal. She is wearing a Resplendent Destiny of the Corpse, the guise of a travelling physician and midwife, setting broken bones, prescribing tinctures, and delivering children. It is that last thing she is doing at this moment.

For reasons she has not been told, it is imperative that this boy is born hale and healthy, but that his mother passes in childbirth. Were it not for her, they would likely both perish as he is not oriented correctly in the womb. It would not be an ovely taxing task for Spirited Breath to cut open the mother, extract the child, and sew her back up again. It would take a few weeks before she could walk any real distance, but she would be fine. Sadly, Prosperous Bee does not quite have the skill with a needle one could hope for and is not quite careful enough in cleaning her hands. The wound will become infected and she will never wake up again.

Intellectually, Breath knows that there is no great significance in where messages from Heaven appear. Emotionally, she is not quite ready to see it in the entrails of the woman she is letting die in her hands.

--- ♄ ---​

"Who will be conducting the negotiations on behalf of Ledaal and Peleps?" She asks Xaos, almost managing to keep her distaste at even speaking that hated name out of her voice.

 

[Sherwood]

Earlier....

Standing in the middle of the dojo, Garret holds his spear out in front of him as he breathes deeply after moving through the forms of his chosen martial arts style. His instructor, one of the many little gods that work for the Celestial Bureaucracy, lets out a sigh, and says, "Again."

Garret doesn't argue; he has learned his lesson about doing that a long time ago. Instead, he once more launches himself into motion, moving into the familiar katas of the exercise. There was one point of his life that he would have considered himself an expert in the use of the spear, but his time here in Yu-Shan has shown him that while he is very strong, his low level of physical dexterity has held him back from achieving true mastery of the White Reaper style.

After another run through the forms, his sifu grudgingly let him stop, tossing him a small towel to wipe the sweat from his brow. "Your knowledge of the forms is complete. Your only weakness is your reliance upon using strength over speed. But you seem to do well enough to not completely embarrass me or yourself when you get into your next altercation. We are done for now."

With a respectful bow, Garret turns and heads out of the training room to wash the sweat away from his workout.

As he steps out of the dojo, he pauses for a moment to look around at the grand majesty of the scenery of the Celestial City. Even with all the time he has spent here, he is still amazed at the grandeur of Yu-Shan. So much beauty, but at the same time, so . . . cold. Garret was never as happy here as he was in Creation. He much preferred to be out doing the work of the Celestial Bureaucracy alongside his wife, or he would as soon as they were called in for an assignment in Creation.

Just thinking of her is enough to bring a smile to his face.

As he stands there, lost in thought, a small messenger spirit comes up to him, bearing a small scroll in hand. "Master Garret? You have been summoned. Here are your instructions." With a perfunctory bow, the spirit turns and flits away, off to deliver more messages.

Looking at the contents of the scroll, Garret raises an eyebrow. The Loom of Fate? Why am I being summoned there? If I had done something wrong, I would expect to be called to the offices of the Bureau, not the Loom itself. Must be an assignment of some sort. Good. Time to get to work.

Taking to the sky in one of his bird forms, the Lunar soars along, keeping an eye open for other fliers out there that he would need to yield the path to, knowing that his low rank in the Bureau meant that just about everyone and everything had pull over him. Looking down, Garret spots a gondola boarding pier at one of the many waterways that crisscross the whole of Yu-Shan. Taking his human form once more, he pays his fee and sits back, waiting for the small boat to strike out for the center of the city. He could fly there, but these magic waterways are much faster, and the nature of the summons hints that time is of the essence.

Later ....

Ignoring the looks he was getting from those around him, Garret instead focuses on taking in the details of the mission as he stands next to Amahle. Looking to the other members of the Fellowship, then back at the massive tangle that the huge Pattern Spider is trying to unravel, he suddenly feels rather nervous. This is the first serious test of his training that he's being put to, and the stakes are high. No wonder there are so many Chosen here, bent on the success of this assignment.

 

[Rykon]

Tell us how you were engaged in activities crucial to advancing the aims of Heaven when you were interrupted. You’re encouraged to interpret that as creatively and liberally as you please. Amahle, additionally tell us how you notify Garret if he isn’t already with you.

"If there was any blessing most appreciated since the second breath, it was the chance to experience conflict in the third person on occasion." Tien thought, nearly aloud. Other than the peaceful moments enjoying tea and ambrosial wafers, challenges to the mind such as this only served to further sharpen the newly minted weapons of the Crimson Panoply. Despite how much the rookie shieldbearer otherwise relished the post of volunteer liaison to the commission on the Caul, this meeting was beginning to drag on well past schedule.

Much as the rank and file of the division of Battles wanted to wholeheartedly endorse Realm efforts to retain a dominating presence on the Caul, politics as always would complicate the issue. Tien was one of a few well-versed enough in the neighboring nations to provide proper insight for the insulated divinities and overly biased members of the fellowship while also pushing back on untoward Destinies on the docket for the next season.

As for the gods present, some in the room thought to curry favor with Luna through support for her chosen tending the land of significant relevance to matters of the heart. Others clawed for any ground that could be given to thinning blood in dwindling numbers. Especially given the 10,000 bruised egos in the wake of one Solar circle's activities. Few within both camps had begun to frequently distract from the issue with questions of terrestrial court accountability and hierarchy. "We get it already, thrice-damned Bureau of Heaven," Tien began to scowl from behind his cup. "...and the Bureau of Nature..."

Tien sat back in his seat balanced on two legs mulling over the issues as the fragrant aroma of fresh tea continually wafted about the meeting chamber. "To address the primary reason we're here... I realize the reality of thinning bloodlines is unsavory to many parties in heaven. I also realize that the Lunar wardens of this territory make a sport of slaughtering spirits yet to be graced with the blessing of reorganization. However, there are peripheral concerns to consider which warrant a continuation of extended, fair confrontation, whims of my division aside. Firstly, the supply line."

Tien pointed to a spot on the unfurled map serving as the centerpiece to a tea time gradually reaching the end of its welcome. "The importance of this holy site is such that it compels Dynastic presence in a world where they would otherwise hastily retreat to their isle like a quivering tortoise. Not just the supplies, but soldiers also flow from the Inland Sea and even down through An-Teng and the Cinder Isles."

He pauses for a moment, turning his gaze to the canvas map held down mostly with jade and silver marking pieces. He places down one of a sickly green tarnished metal, corroded copper, as carrying the one it was meant to represent was decidedly inauspicious. "Pirates. Lintha. Malfeans. This force remains in check because of the necessity of Realm military activity on the other side of these specific waters. Their passage impacts governing policy and trade in An-Teng, Goldenseal, and other important territories of the southwestern coast. They need a secure route. If the Caul garrisons vacate, the rest of the legions turn tail for home. If that happens, who fills that void?"

"We cannot afford the risk of a premature cold war simply because someone wants to pl-" He stopped. Tien's pocket suddenly grew heavy with the weight of grave tidings. "Hells bells, what now.." He grumbled, never amused by disruptions. The urgency immediately caught his attention as the bright side set in. "We'll have to complete destiny planning another time. Or with another liaison. For now, duty calls." He gave a curt wave of farewell with a contented smile betraying gratitude for the change in pace.

***

It took a moment for the details to settle in his mind, landing a bit more firmly with the written documents. "I see... How is it we're certain of Nanihonu's attendance to its duties, yet not of surrounding circumstances? You suspect dereliction on behalf of other spirits but not this one or its court? If objective 1, or any other, clashes with 8, what then?"

After hearing an answer he posed the next question. "There is great secrecy to these tombs I take it, as mention of them was rather quickly stifled. I trust we will, however, be furnished with an inventory we can verify upon inspection, yes? Or should we merely document the found and speculate on the lost?" Tien pressed. It wasn't often context and details were withheld from Sidereals. Testing the confidentiality threshold seemed as solid a gauge as any for what threat they could be unwittingly submitted to on such brief, short notice.

 

[Random Word]

Xaos' voice warbles, "Ledaal Zemare, daughter of Ledaal Saraban, who persuaded the Solar Anwar Cloud-Singer to surrender himself to the Order and the Nail, will be leading the Ledaal delegation. Peleps Baejuf, son of Mnemon Caras Dari, who negotiated the accession of Nemiruz, Great Sail, and Shadowed Peak to the Realm in support of the Iceblight campaign against the Lintha, leads the Peleps delegation. Their genealogies and personality profiles are in box 107. They are destined to meet in the Amber Hall of the Dawn Palace in three days."

At Tien's question, a gurgle emerges from Xaos' palanquin that might be laughter, "Young man, if Nanihonu stopped performing its duties, this snarl would be the least of our worries, I assure you! The maintenance of Dragon Lines is a tedious and never ending business, and few beings can do it, but their misalignment would be an ecological disaster. The Bureau of Nature would have a conniption! We'd smell the dead fish from here!" He descends into coughing. "That said, you have broad investigatory and disciplinary discretion. For the love of Venus, if you have to censure something as powerful as Nanihonu, you had best have a damned good reason, or the audit will be the stuff of Bureau legend. You might as well try to write up the Imperial Mountain," he replies before trailing off into more gurgling and coughing.

Ydia brightens at Tien's follow-up question, "Oh yes! Boxes 73 through 80. Box 80 has the really good stu-"

"No one is to touch anything in those tombs! No one is to know anything about those tombs!" rumbles Xaos, "None of it is good."

 

[Rykon]

"It wouldn't be the first time one who would appear to be about their duties was discovered to be moonlighting in troublesome activities. Spare us the theatrics and note the answer for the record please." Tien replied with a dismissive wave of the hand behind folded arms.

***

Tien snaps at Xaos, speaking in a firm tone. "You will furnish us with sufficient resources to complete objective five, strike it from the mission, or do it yourself. I am not budging in this matter. We are agents and inspectors of heaven, not some pack of pillaging brutes."
[Tien activates Incite Decorum]

After a brief glare Tien added, "I realize I'm being overly combative here, but a job worth doing is worth doing right. This is necessary to ensure the mission is completed properly and safely."

 

[Random Word]

Xaos guffaws, his voice a progressively deepening baritone, "Young man, you have the fire of Mars in your belly and essence running hot through your veins, and that will serve you well - once tempered. Your predecessor was a brave and stubborn man, but even he learned to heed my counsel. I have been doing this job for millennia. I am no one's son. Do not mistake my flapping jaw for carelessness or sloth. You have been furnished with everything required, and a secure room in which to peruse it at your leisure, which it is not to leave, nor be discussed carelessly outside of."

Ydia's smile widens at that last part, "And of course, should you want for any additional records, you need only file a requisition, but I made sure all the best stuff was in there. Have fun!"

Xaos scoffs. "Now, more questions? If not, be off with you!"

[Visiting the secure reading room can be an explicit scene if you'd like to learn more and discuss amongst yourselves, but by default I'll have you go straight through the Gate and I'll describe things you read as they come up. You can use the library for Efficient Secretary and also as an automatic Lore Background for declaring facts about mission relevant places, people, cultures, etc.]

 

[jaydude]

Shi-Vash nodded her head, then turned to leave, letting the others follow her. As she passed Garret, she gave him yet another of her pointed looks, her way of reminding him that while it was nice he was helping out the Celestial Bureaucracy, it was still a mistake for him to have come here.

 

[Random Word]

You abruptly cease to exist for an infinitesimal moment between moments, and then just as abruptly you’re reconstituted, whole and intact in the outermost torii of a small Immaculate shrine. The two stone lion-dogs flanking the gate watch impassively as you materialize. The shrine is old and decrepit, lovingly tended by an equally old and decrepit blind priest-turned-monk and his young assistant. Before the Immaculate Order arrived a decade ago and stripped all the iconography it was a temple to Hina’elele, the local Goddess of messengers, orphans, and birds (putting her in a terribly awkward trifurcating reporting structure between the Bureaus of Heaven, Humanity, and Nature, respectively - you don’t envy her the paperwork) and a cavalcade of gods a thousand long before her stretching back millenia uninterrupted. The monk still offers beds and meals to foot messengers, usually orphan children, in the temple, and teaches them to read and write on Saturndays. Somehow the shrine, despite relatively little traffic, always manages to scrape by on small donations by anonymous benefactors.

Before you is a small but well tended garden offset from a quiet street in a moderately wealthy neighbourhood of Lantana, overlooking the valley below. The old monk and his young apprentice sit on a small stone bench, sharing a dinner of dried fish and rice in the shade of a mango tree. In the time before the Purge, the hunter Pualena the Dawnspear laid low the Maw of Nirakara, a great and terrible behemoth that tried to drink the Pole of Water dry. Its corpse was vast, but Pualena was determined to butcher it for trophies, and so asked the earth to raise a great range of mountains over which its body might be laid. Its rainbow-hued blood rained into the valley, soaking into its fertile soil. Its flesh fed millions, and produced rare alchemical reagents turned into a thousand puissant elixirs. Its teeth became spears of legend. Finally, when his work was complete, all that remained was its bones and its heart. Around its heart, still filled to overflowing with an inconceivable quantity of water essence, he built the great Palace of Shining Water. He pinned the Maw’s soul to its bones with great soulsteel spikes, binding it to eternal service, and upon those great bones stretched like arcing bridges between the mountains on either side of the valley he built a city of fine art and culture, renowned for hosting and producing some of the greatest performances of the age. The aurora-soul of the behemoth ensured every performance in the grand theatre could be seen and enjoyed in the sky above the harbour by every denizen of the city. Though these magics have long since fallen into disrepair, residents can still witness beautiful colourful displays as the aurora-soul dreams each night, interspersed with occasional distorted fragments of particularly awe-inspiring performances from millenia passed.

From your vantage point on the mountain’s slopes between the Upper and Middle cities - the ribs of the former arching upwards, the latter downwards but not touching the valley below, like a great rope hung between the slopes - you cannot see how the waters from the Palace of Shining Water atop the ribs run in great rivers down its neighbourhood-bones, but you can see where they cascade down in falls to fill the canals and rivers of the verdant valley below, shining in the light of the setting sun. Its thousands of plantations, orchards, and fields, enriched by the strange properties of the Maw’s blood, are a riot of life and colour, producing bountiful crops of rare and exotic medicinal and alchemical ingredients, unique fruits, wines, and other intoxicants that has secured the three Golden Tide Princes great wealth and power, and now make a meagre effort to stanch the hemorrhaging coffers of House Peleps. Water wheels turned by the falls power large elevators hauling goods and passengers up and down ceaselessly on great white jade chains to feed the appetites of the Upper and Middle Cities.

The rivers meet the sea at a deep and well sheltered harbour, almost two hundred ships still visible in the evening light. The docks can accommodate only a fraction of these ships, so most are anchored a small distance away, forming a forest of brightly coloured linen dotted with tiny pinpricks of lantern light under the incipient aurora, with half of the sails the bright scarlet of the Imperial Navy. The wind carries the salty ocean breeze up the slopes and over the night market slowly coming to life beneath you, the spicy and sweet smells of street food wafting up to mix with the scents of mango and incense from the temple. Dried giant jellyfish hung from poles and wires glow orange, blue, and pink to keep the market streets lit into the night.



Amahle, you can see the yellow threads of destiny tying each of the ships in harbour to their distant origins, and their fated destinations. Bright Pearl’s ship from Wu Jian and its twisted tangled thread, Guild ships from Abalone, ships ferrying scavenger lords from as far away as distant Nexus, even a ship ferrying a small delegation from fiery Gem. The Ragara delegation from Riven Quay will undoubtedly face the problems of any travelling dynast, and will soon be attending galas and salons with their letters of credit in hand to seek hard jade from the local merchant houses and banking families to fund their expeditions and hire mercenaries. Bright Pearl himself can almost certainly be found on the docks near his ship, regaling the crowds with tall tales to snatch able crew before the Navy press gangs can seize them.

Cinerea, you can see that the Prince of the Dawn Palace negotiates in secret with Lantana’s ancient enemies in the south, seeking to find common cause against the marauding Lunar warlord Waimari'e Wavecleaver, who has already sacked two Satrapies and is held at bay only by the impregnable fortresses that guard the mountain passes into Lantana. The negotiations might succeed, forging a lasting peace, but the other Princes are suspicious and will likely see them disrupted. A shining cerulean thread of fated matrimony is near to breaking as an exalted Peleps scion has been enraptured by Bright Pearl’s tales of lost cities and priceless treasures, and even now plans to abandon her wedding to a scion of House Ledaal to seek fortune and glory for herself - oh, and her House, of course. Their union might have helped secure peace and stability for the West, even amidst the catastrophe of the Realm civil war, aiding the secret negotiations between Peleps and Ledaal in the coming days.

Tien, the great crimson thread of impending battle looms large over the approaching armies of the Wavecleaver. You know full well those ‘impregnable’ fortresses are soon likely to be proven anything but. The Division of Battles was hesitant to weave their successful defense into destiny, for such a prophecy won't be worth the silk it was written on if one of the mountain spirit courts rebels, already incensed over the strictures of the Immaculate Calendar. The paranoid Princes have withheld too much of their strength to defend their palaces and menace each other, overconfident in the strength of their fortresses, driven apart by their bickering Gods, and unaware Wavecleaver draws so perilously near. The Satrap, Peleps Nalin Pamaron, lent much of his garrison to the disastrous defense of Cresting Wave to the north. Wavecleaver has sacked two Satrapies on the island so far, and it seems likely they will now take a third unless the some sense can be driven into the Princes' heads or the Ledaal demi-legion disembarks to fight for the valley. The fleet - and legion - are destined to follow a different crimson thread to engage the Lintha to the north en route to meet up with their other half to retake Cresting Wave.

Shi-Vash, any large city is a tangled web of secrets, but several draw your attention. There is already a sizable price on Bright Pearl’s head - dead or alive - tendered with the secret societies of Lantana, famed for their poisoners and alchemically enhanced assassins, and no small amount of dabbling in infernalism the Order has so far failed to root out. Doubtless someone will make a spirited attempt on his life soon. Three of the many vessels in harbour fly false colours tied to tantalizing green threads. They are concealed vessels of House V’Neef daringly seeking resupply in a Peleps harbour on their journey. They may be tempted by Bright Pearl's stories, to deny the riches to Peleps if nothing else, but would doubtless be seized at once if revealed, or perhaps forced to leave the harbour and sunk at sea without witnesses. It doesn’t take supernatural insight to recognize the monk’s young apprentice would make a useful asset to anyone interested in taking the pulse of the city. A young orphan and messenger himself, he has tight connections with the many messengers who pass through this temple, and messengers overhear many useful things.

Spirited Breath, you can see the snapped violet threads of endings brought before their time in a string of brutal murders that have badly shaken the Upper City. Though it has been carefully concealed, one of the Golden Tide Princes has fallen deathly ill in contravention of their destiny. Their children suspect another Prince has poisoned him. Curiously, there are four plague-ridden vessels moored at a quarantine island in the harbour, but one of the four has had not a single death since its arrival. More prosaically, the old monk before you is destined to die tomorrow, leaving his young ward in charge of the temple. You can think of far worse last suppers than enjoying this spectacular view.

 

[jaydude]

Shi-Vash spent a moment just taking in the scale of Lantana, before turning to her fellow Sidereals.

"Well, let's find our wayward captain. The sooner we can get him alone and find out how he was able to get through the Eternal Storm, the sooner our superiors and the pattern spiders can rest easier."

It felt only natural for her to be the one in command here. After all, a large part of this assignment revolved around knowledge and investigation.

 

[Random Word]

The docks are packed, the air thick with the scent of the day's catch hauled off ocean going canoes, the squalid press of so many bodies doing the backbreaking work of loading and unloading ships under the fading heat of the sun, and the rich spicy scents of the street vendors and taberna preparing to feed them all. Bright Pearl is not hard to find, for being found is quite evidently his aim. He cuts a dramatic figure, the bow of his ship his stage, an orichalcum bird perched on his shoulder shining as if in the noonday sun despite the day's fading light, an amulet about his neck of orichalcum set with a stone of swirling white and blue, his loose flowing light blue robe cut in the style popular in Wu-Jian at the moment rippling in the evening breeze. He has the dark complexion of a Westerner well used to the sun, long black hair bound into braids with silver and opal clasps - the detailing is impossible to make out from here, but his files indicate they're from a Black Turtle Shogunate, and his sea green eyes shine brightly as he exhorts the crowd.

"Ladies, gentlemen, you've all heard the story by now, you're here to see if it's real. You need not take my word for it, these treasures speak for themselves!" he gestures towards a pile of shining treasures heaped on the pier beside the ship, surrounded by a group of imposing looking black armoured figures holding vicious looking polearms. "The Red Lotus Emperor, in his infinite benevolence and generosity, welcomed me to his court and has bid me bring word of his will to you, the brave and adventurous people of Lantana. Beyond the storm lies not certain death but fortune and glory beyond your wildest imagination, sealed away in unspoiled ancient ruins to make a Chiaroscuran green with envy! They have defied the Emperor's best efforts to prise free their precious treasures, and in demonstrating the daring and ingenuity of foreigners I have won a fortune for myself and an offer from the Emperor: Scavenger Lords of the West, brave the storm with me and the Emperor will hold a great competition. Those who triumph will be granted noble titles in a shining white city of wonders, the hands of noble husbands and wives, and their expeditions will be guided to ancient cities overflowing with danger and - more importantly - treasures that make what you see here pale!"

He has a good stage presence, but you can tell that for the assembled crowd of sailors, merchants, and scavengers the treasures piled on the pier speak far louder than his words, and much of the crowd is seriously considering his proposition. For many sailors it's that or the Imperial Navy press gangs. Risking death for even a piece of unimaginable wealth sounds more appealing than risking death for a pittance of a wage.

Cutting through the clamouring crowd is a silent mountain and his entourage, whom everyone gives a wide and nervous berth. The hulking giant of a monk stands a head taller than any in the crowd, marble skin in stark contrast to his bright orange robes, jet black eyes fixed balefully on the demon-gold bird on Bright Pearl's shoulder. The black armoured figures on the pier ready their weapons. Rough Hewn Wisdom is the abbot's enforcer, but Bright Pearl has chosen his guards well. The black armoured figures are Ancients (Bearers of the Panoply of Ancient Glories in full), the armour they wear the project of a Necromancer King who ruled Lantana centuries ago and, inspired by the soulsteel spikes that pin the behemoth's soul to its bones, pinned the souls of his most loyal warriors to suits of steel plate when they died, giving blood descendants who wear the armour terrifying strength and ferocity in battle. When the Necromancer was assassinated and his ghost destroyed, the Ancients propped up a puppet king before a coalition of merchants overthrew them and disbanded their legion, becoming the first triumvirate of Golden Tide Princes. Notably the ascendant princes did not disarm the Ancients, fearing Lantana's enemies would sense weakness and attack. The scattered Ancients formed secret lodges and become a mercenary mainstay of the city, known for their ability to put down restless spirits and an unfailing adherence to their contracts. Until the arrival of the Realm, that is. The Order takes a dim view of perverting the cycle of reincarnation, and when initial efforts to arrest them all faced stiff opposition, the monks instead made a concerted effort to usurp the Ancient's role in quieting spirits while preaching against them to undermine their status as folk heroes. Rough Hewn Wisdom has recently challenged several Ancients to duels, confiscating their corrupted armour when he demonstrates the superiority of the Immaculate Faith. In response the Ancients have taken to travelling in larger groups and agitating against the Order, giving the Order the excuse it needs to crack down harder.

Rough Hewn Wisdom stops when he and his attendant monks reach the front of the crowd. "You have been warned," he rumbles in a deep baritone. "You will yield these Anathema relics to the Order for destruction or safe storage, before disaster befalls us all." Rough Hewn Wisdom almost certainly doesn't know what forged these treasures, but as the orichalcum falcon on Bright Pearl's shoulder nonchalantly preens its shining feathers you feel the limb he goes out on is quite sturdy.

To his credit, Bright Pearl's smile only wavers briefly, but his reply is preempted by the buzz of pearlescent wings as a beauteous wasp and a pair of riders in the white and gold livery of House Ragara sweeps down from the sky to hover beside the ship. Gasps and screams fill the air as those assembled look transfixed upon the strange beauty of the Agata's varicoloured crystal body, sparkling in the orange light of evening. The two Ancients flanking Bright Pearl have just enough wherewithal to level their weapons as one of the rider's alights onto the deck, bowing low and presenting a missive. "The Lady Ragara Szoraya offers her regards, and an invitation to attend her and regale her with tales of your daring exploits," declares the messenger, loudly enough for the crowd to hear.

Bright Pearl gestures at the Ancients to lower their weapons and accepts the missive. "Offer my most humble thanks to your Lady, and inform her I graciously accept," replies Bright Pearl as he quickly skims the missive, the messenger alighting on the demon before it rises swiftly into the sky to hover high above - an implicit offer of an escape route. "Ah, I have most excellent news, honoured one. The Lady Ragara Szoraya wishes to purchase these trinkets for her collection. Surely these relics cannot corrupt the enlightened blood of the dragons?"

Rough Hewn Wisdom's eyes flash with fury, barely managing to bite back a retort. Probably something choice like, 'A Ragara Sorcerer has nowhere more to fall', but it would not do to criticise the Dynasty before the people. With an icy calm he addresses the messenger, "You will remind your mistress I have warned her of the dangers of exposing mortals to demons. Inform her my door is always open should she require spiritual guidance." His eyes alight on Bright Pearl, "As for you..."

[What would you like to do? If you don't intervene, violence may break out. If Bright Pearl manages to extricate himself from this situation without needing to rely on Szoraya's Agata, he will likely carouse until his appointment with her draws near, then make his way to the palace.]

 

[Rykon]

Tien, hood up and void of the mask of a resplendent destiny, steps beside Rough Hewn Wisdom and whispers words of placation while remaining out of direct eye-shot of Bright Pearl. In contrast to much of the banter in the streets for the crowd's sake, he speaks in High Realm. "Let them be for now. Should she gain a foothold, this gives the realm leverage over the treasure, does it not? Flow like water and you will pass through the cracks in the earth, my friend." After having spoken, Tien continued moving discretely past the crowd. The last thing he needed for Division of Battles plan A was to give the sailor a reason to retreat to his ship. His seat of power. Were the fledgling fellowship to make an early decisive move against Bright Pearl's campaign, it might very well be sabotaging this sailor's ship while the captain's away.

 

[jaydude]

"Okay, what on Creation is he up to?" Shi-Vash muttered to herself, before following Tien to... wherever he was going.

 

[Random Word]

Rough Hewn Wisdom's initial indignation at being interrupted slowly transforms into a broad smile at being quoted scripture in perfect High Realm. "Wisdom is often found where we least expect it. Thank you, citizen. I will strive for the temperance of Hesiesh."

Turning back to look up at Bright Pearl, still perched on the bow of his ship, he implores in Wavetongue, "Think of your soul!"

"Think of my tab!" replies Bright Pearl, eliciting a small tittering of laughter from a crowd still awestruck by the demon and intimidated by the threat of violence hanging heavy in the air.

"This is a serious matter that transcends life and death!"

"So is my tab!"

You can hear Rough Hewn Wisdom's teeth grinding. Clearly the temperance of Hesiesh is for him a journey and not a destination. He holds his hands out and the monks nearby cover their ears. His palms come together in a thunderous clap that causes the crowd to recoil and nearly topples Bright Pearl from his perch. Dead silence follows, for those whose ears are not ringing.

Rough Hewn Wisdom speaks quietly, but his eyes shine with fury, "I will not permit your arrogant disregard for danger to jeopardise the lives and souls of the people of Lantana. The plague released when Anja Swiftwinds opened an Anathema music box wiped out half a city in agony and despair. The foul and treacherous whispers of the Blacktide Idol brought three princedoms to ruin. This is more important than your coin purse. Jade will not buy grieving parents their children, nor you a better place in the cycle. Place the works of the Anathema in our care, and Lady Ragara may study them in the monastery at her leisure. You will have my, and no doubt her, gratitude for doing your duty to Creation."

Bright Pearl has been wrong-footed by this, and scans the crowd nervously, pointedly not looking at the Ragara messengers still circling above. He'd clearly like to avoid the embarassment of requiring Ragara Szoraya to save him on his own ship.

 

[Rykon]

Hearing the sudden pause of awkward silence when Rough Hewn Wisdom addressed the crowd with heavy truths brought a smile to the chosen of Mars. "Marvelous, we have pivoted from a battle of arms to one of words. This gives us a moment to consider our options. Yes?" He whispered to Shi-Vash. "One more nudge and he leaves in shame for trying to dump his 'cursed goods' on the shores of Lantana..."

With a mere moment's consideration, Tien threw his voice into the crowd to spark rancor against their plundering nuisance driving the current fate snarl. "He's trying to pay his tab with our blood!" With that gentle push, Tien waited to see if the crowd, or even just Bright Pearl, took the bait and forced the troublesome pirate to leave.

[This smells like an inspire action, so I'll roll Charisma + Performance. 4m Excellency for 3 dice TN-1. 8 Successes]

 

[jaydude]

"Marvelous, we have pivoted from a battle of arms to one of words. This gives us a moment to consider our options. Yes?" He whispered to Shi-Vash. "One more nudge and he leaves in shame for trying to dump his 'cursed goods' on the shores of Lantana..."

"As long as we can fulfil our objectives, I've no complaints." Shi-Vash replied to the Chosen of Battles, her own voice a whisper as well.

 

[Esbilon]

"Careful about mob justice," Spirited Breath whispers as the crowd begins stirring around them, "it is hardly a precision weapon. Perhaps we should move closer, to better intercept him if he runs."

 

[Rykon]

"if that's what it takes to deter further looting, so be it. It aligns with our directive." Tien replies to Spirited Breath in a hushed tone "I'd wager the only thing in immediate danger here is his pride." Mentally he reaches out to his Cirrus Skiff, calling it into range in case they need to make an interception of the ship itself. "If he runs from his ship... all the better I say."

 

[Random Word]

Crowds are fickle things, and sometimes all it takes is a spark to start a wildfire. Fear is sister to anger, and suddenly the air is filled with indignant cries and hostile eyes. "Foreigner!" "Take your cursed treasure and go!" Rough Hewn Wisdom is surprised, though pleasantly, by the sudden change in sentiment. Bright Pearl is clearly taken aback. He can see he is rapidly losing the crowd, and must turn things around quickly to refloat his sinking fortunes. He can't defuse this anger, so he'll have to settle for distraction and eventual redirection, but first he needs to buy himself some breathing room. Meanwhile the golden bird on his shoulder has turned to look directly at the three of you as you whisper, head cocked, eyes gleaming, and expression inscrutable.

He stands tall, arms wide, radiating all the calm competence he can muster, "Your protectors are wise, and I see they have your best interests at heart. Indeed, who cares more for the people of Lantana than her gods and princes?" He reluctantly draws a scroll from his belt and unfurls it before the audience, "I have had the honour of an audience at the Dusk Palace, and before it could be granted the wise prince Dreams-of-Pearls insisted his finest sages and the priests of Hanumaune [Lantanan Goddess of Trade and Epicurean Delights, politically aligned with the Dusk Palace] herself thoroughly examine my cargo and judge if it were fit for trade. The Tide of Bounty was so pleased with the choice items I presented in tribute I was granted the honour of a writ of exploration," he gestures to the Prince's seal on the scroll, "Promising royal sanction for further exploration of the Eternal Storm in exchange for a share of the great wonders I find!"

Rough Hewn Wisdom scowls at this, looking at the document like for all the world he wished he had been chosen as a child of Hesiesh so it might burst into flame. Prince Dreams-of-pearls fell deathly ill before Bright Pearl made his visit to the palace, your records indicating Bright Pearl was fobbed off on a minor official, so either he's risked a death sentence to forge this document, or someone is wielding the prince's seal in his infirmity. This complicates life for Rough Hewn Wisdom, whose jurisdiction in this matter was nebulous to begin with. The Satrap is only meant to concern himself with the tithe, Immaculate orthodoxy, and defense, in that order, and will be reluctant to intercede in a domestic political scandal if Rough Hewn Wisdom oversteps his religious authority.

Bright Pearl takes a breath, pausing to collect his thoughts, "I will not lie to you. I am a professional, and my profession is not for the faint of heart. I am well familiar with deadly traps, diseases, poisons, guardian spirits, and curses. Were I not, I and my crew would be dead many times over." He looks solemnly around at the assembled crowd, "Only the bravest and most skilled amongst you should even consider accepting the offer I bear in my capacity as a dignitary for the Red Lotus Emperor, but for those few he promises the opportunity for wealth, fame, and glory to win the favour of princes, and I have seen the truth of it for myself. After this journey, I will take my treasures to distant Wu-Jian, my home. It will be but a small fraction of the treasures of the Eternal Storm, but it is enough for me and my crew to live in luxury for the rest of our days."

[Bright Pearl is going to attempt to Inspire Greed as a counterweight to the Anger before trying to point the Anger at someone other than himself. He has an Inspire pool of 7 dice, and this is worth a Willpower to him. 4 hits is enough to exceed the Resolve of the crowd. You can see that his message has resonated, but isn't powerful enough to completely distract the crowd from their anger.]

The blades of the Ancients ensure the crowd doesn't push down the pier, but several disputes break out amongst the crowd between the outnumbered supporters of Bright Pearl and his detractors, some more violent than others. If this escalates it won't be long before the marines step in to break things up and disperse the crowd to keep traffic on the docks flowing.

 

[Esbilon]

Breath's brow furrows in suspicion when Bright Pearl brandishes the scroll bearing a seal it most definitely should not. Calling upon the Essence of Jupiter that lives even within a reckoner, she produces a tiny, green spider and quickly sends it to the Loom with one question: "Who applied Prince Dreams-of-Pearl to that document?"

 

[Random Word]

A small green jade spider crawls out of the web of fate, rounding a corner from nowhere to climb onto Spirited Breath's shoulder. "My most heartfelt and sincere apologies, mistress, but Heaven has no filed reports of Prince Dreams-of-Pearls' seal being applied to this document, nor the document being issued. In the minutes filed by the Court of Hanumaune, Lady of Bountiful Tides, it is recorded that one Bright Pearl petitioned for an audience with the Prince, but instead met with Vice-Chancellor of Weights and Measures Tranquil Peak. Several subsequent petitioners to the court had their audiences postponed and rescheduled. No documents, proclamations, or official decisions resulting from his audience are recorded."

Zhīzhū crawls out of Shi-Vash's sleeve to wave to the spider, which waves back. "Can I furnish you with any additional information, mistress?"

Nearby you can hear heated voices raised in anger, "We have enough problems without you bringing us curses and plagues too!"

"I think maybe your silver's cursed, Hare, and it's taken your wits. I think you should give it all to me, just to be safe!"

"Oh fuck off, it's Anathema treasure, of course it's cursed!"

"Say the foreigners. I bet they'll be right happy to pile it on their treasure ships. We pay them good money to protect us, and they're sending our defenders off to die up north! I think it's time we look out for ourselves."

"Then you run away, but if you go you stay in that gods-forsaken storm with your plagues and far away from the rest of us, coward!"

Though the words differ, the sentiments are echoed in various forms in pockets throughout the crowd. It seems likely violence will soon break out, as tempers are running hot.

 

[jaydude]

Zhīzhū crawls out of Shi-Vash's sleeve to wave to the spider, which waves back.

"Good to see you again." Shi-Vash whispered to Zhīzhū with minute movements of her lips, while keeping her eyes upon the boiling pot of water that was the crowd. "Stay close to Bright Pearl - the captain of that ship - and then tell me where I can find him. I have a feeling he'll be vacating this area sooner or later."