To Stand Against the Crimson Tide

[Sherwood]

Garret feels a touch of relief at this, saying, "Good to know. I have no problem in working with you, either, Ms. Droplets. I'll keep up my part of this bond by keeping you and your daughter safe. Speaking of . . . Sjet, you took one hell of a hit out there today. Does this manse of yours have some armor that you could use to keep you whole and in one piece? It would make it easier on us to keep you alive."

Sjet smiles at Garret over her cup of tea and shakes her head. "No, I don't believe so. There are many wonderful things here, but I have never come across any random suits of armor lying about. I will have to make sure to avoid harm and be more careful in the future." He is a sweet man. Just so long as he doesn't start kanoodling my mother, that is a good thing.

 

[Random Word]

Sayuri
The crab makes a soft sound like the ringing of glass when you stroke it just so, and you notice one of its eight legs is half missing and one claw - the smaller of the two - is slightly chipped. When you eventually turn to leave it crawls up to nestle itself in your quiver, and seems set on accompanying you.

Story 0 - Session 1 - Scene 0

The Hall of the Counted - Everyone Minus Conrad

The sun, bloodied and bruised but unbowed, its light purple-red through the haze of the smoke still curling from the city. As its final rays, feeble through the haze, relinquish their hold on Creation to the encroaching night the only light in the great obsidian hall comes from distant angry embers and the great green pyreflame sconces. Eerie shadows dance, and from out of ceremonial pools surrounded by votive incense and memorials to the great ancestors, a thick mist spills forth. Icy footprints form on the polished stone, the mist clinging to them and advancing unnaturally upwards as if pouring into a mold to form the bodies of dozens of ghosts decked out in gaudy and grotesque finery. Four stand out amongst the crowd: The leader of the local chapter of the Timeless Order of Manacle and Coin, his bulk almost overflowing his slave-borne palanquin, their golden chains festooned with bells that sound like the clinking of coin, surrounded by attendants feverishly writing on long scrolls that never seem to unroll endlessly as they walk. The bloody war torn finery and rusted armour of the hulking leader of the Headless Host, blood oozing slowly but endlessly from his severed neck, warriors arrayed around him. The mist-cloaked leader of the Ferrymen, eyes glowing like the moon over dark waters beneath silver hair that billows and drifts as if immersed, a pale green lantern topped oar in one hand. Finally, the head of the Gloaming Hall, a tall, skeletally slender figure wrapped in a beautiful cloak woven from all the dancing shadows cast by the pyreflame, a rich tapestry of shades of darkness, all brilliant when set against the dark voids of her eyes.

Sayuri and Droplets know how rare it is to see these august figures take their boxes in person, for they almost always send lesser representatives to report back.

The Counted sit on tiered obsidian benches arranged amphitheatre style around a central daias where a massive mirror sits, forty metres wide and five tall, its furtled black velvet curtains billowing without wind. The mirror does not reflect the hall, but instead a rough-hewn stone table in a slowly flowing river. Hundreds of figures dance, feast, sing, scream, howl, laugh, or jest, but the sounds are distant and muted, creating a seemingly incomprehensible susurrus that puts your hair on end and sends shivers down your spine like nails on chalkboard. Robed Listeners burn incense and make offerings, sifting through the mad whispers to draw out dark peals of wisdom from the ravings of the Choir to pass to the Speaker, who stands at a podium to one side. On the other side, a small collection of typically empty seats are reserved for the Great Ancestors. Today all of them are filled, and their august presence weighs heavily on the chamber.

Sayuri, where do you sit? It could be in a box reserved for your family above the fray, or on those benches if you serve as one of your family's representatives to the Counted, the legislative body of the city of Ombrelune, where you might match wits with your family's opponents and conspire with its allies to secure your family's interests.

For the rest of you, after an interminable wait, you are ushered stand assembled beneath the most august body of the Counted - or those who could be found and assembled, and the duly appointed stand ins for those who had fled the city and could not return quickly enough, or who died in the fighting - and the high boxes and galleries for those assembled to observe. The Guild maintains an opulent box, as do most of the powerful families of Ombrelune. Power fixes its rapacious and adoring gaze upon you. Calculating eyes assess your worth, and the role you might play in their schemes. Wary guardians grip their weapons tightly and subtly edge themselves between you and their wards as much as decorum permits.

Sayuri knows the Speaker to be Malik Zahara, a not infrequent guest at her family's banquets. His dark hair is swept back and his orange eyes, usually sparkling with wit and cheer, have lost much of their lustre. His usually gaudy outfits have been replaced with mourning white and onyx teardrops. He sweeps his somber gaze over all of you, unfazed by Droplet's ghastly appearance, and pauses to let the tension mount before he speaks. "The Counted, nay, the City itself, thanks you. You have done a great thing this day. Who amongst you was responsible for the awakening-"

His address is interrupted as one figure amongst the honoured dead lurches to his feet, quivering with rage. The Saint of Lore, emaciated hands balled into bloodless fists beneath broad-sleeved grey robes, pale lips curled into a snarl beneath a voluminous hood, eyes alight with an eerie purple light, speaks with a whisper that cuts through sound and brings only aghast silence in its wake, "I shall not tolerate this. You dare bring an exile before this body? Before me? See the heretic <Droplet's Redacted Name> cast beyond the walls at once."

Droplets, the name is like a white hot lash across your face, a stinging reminder of all that was stripped away from you, a life that was lost before you ever died.

The speaker pales, and the chamber's full attention is fixed upon Droplets as memories are trawled for a face younger, less lined, and considerably less wise. You may show your years, but this chamber looks almost identical to how it did the moment you were banished. Murmurs begin to spread in the silence, whispers of opprobrium circling like wildfire as your visage is recognized.

 

[Red Shadow Claws]

Droplets feels the stinging of the lash, but she takes a breath before replying, fixing the Saint of Lore with looks that could freeze hell "I don't care what you'd tolerate or not. That person is dead, for all intents and purposes, and I am Droplets of Blood in the Chilly Wind, a chosen of the Underworld. And if you dare speak that name again, I will make sure your suffering will last an eternity."

Her look turns to scorn as she turns her address to everyone else present. "It seems like the Saint of Lore isn't living up to his name, for he doesn't even know about the Chosen of the Underworld, or how to give them respect. As someone who should know the rules and lore, I seem to recall that he was quick to give justice, but seems to be slow in taking it."

"This city, OUR magnificent city, came under attack, and forces from within tried to help the invaders. Their temple now lies in ruins, as the lives of most of them were taken, for treason. And it wasn't the work of the Saint of Lore. In fact, I didn't see him anywhere close by when I handed them their sentence."

 

[Sherwood]

Sjet frowns, not liking the level of disrespect that her mother is getting from the Saint of Lore. She knows that her mother is quite capable of fighting her own battles, but this must be addressed. She says, “I would name him a coward for not helping defend the city, but he does seem to have a bit of backbone in him still to show such rudeness and disrespect to someone that not only helped to keep the city from being looted, but is also Exalted.”

She fires off a poisonous glare at the Saint, adding, “We fought for this city. Some of us bled defending you. My mother died defending me so I could have time to activate the manse and use it’s power to burn the attacking ships, a task that would have also taken my life if I had not received my own Exaltation. All the while so many good men and women were put to the sword to save the city, and where were you? Probably hiding in a desperate attempt to keep your own miserable existence going. Yes, I name you coward before this august body of witnesses. What do you say to that? How will you answer to this charge of failing your people in such a spectacular fashion?”

 

[Random Word]

Story 0 - Session 1 - Scene 0

The Hall of the Counted - Everyone Minus Conrad
The chamber erupts into chaos, Counted standing, jeering, cheering, applauding, or whispering amongst each other. Many strain for a better look at the woman who claims to have awakened the Manse, she who claims to be Chosen by the Underworld itself, or both. The Saint of Valour grabs the Saint of Lore's wrist, and he turns, face twisted in fury. Brief words are exchanged, then the Saint of Lore brushes his hand aside. The Rashid representatives, being ardent champions of tradition and the ancestor cults, huddle in their robes of black and violet and pale green and whisper darkly, but in two distinct clusters. "Order! Order!" calls the Speaker, slowly ringing a dolorous bell that brings sudden silence to the chamber - sound seems simply not to travel, except his voice. Runners descend from the boxes for the powerful ghosts to whisper amongst choice representatives amongst the Counted. The attention of assembly and audience alike is rapt.

"You will speak in turn, when called upon!" he chides, though he looks at Sjet with great interest. He scowls at Droplets, "There will be no more threats uttered in this chamber. You will respect the sanctity of this chamber or be cast out, saviour or not." A messenger from the Timeless Order whispers in the ear of a woman sitting by an aisle near the front, and she smiles. A small bell rings beside her and the Speaker nods, "Lady Zahara, you are Counted."

The young woman who shares the speaker's dark hair and orange eyes stands and addresses the chamber, "The Chosen of the Underworld makes a compelling case. Under our law, only treason fetters a soul in death. This is not the woman who was guilty of heresy, and I scarcely hear a case for treason." In the silence of the chamber there is still visible applause and vociferous shaking of heads from different quarters.

Another bell rings, "Lord Rashid, you are Counted." An old man with a silvered braid decorated with finely graven bones stands slowly from the centre one of the two huddles. "By conduct and nature the Chosen proves herself an outsider," he pronounces with the grim finality of a death sentence. "Emissaries of a foreign power must register themselves by sundown or face expulsion," he pauses to cough, "but given the extraordinary circumstances and exemplary services rendered, I move for pardon."

Another bell, deeper and more sombre, rings from where the vessels of the six Saints sit. The Speaker bows his head, "The chamber honours the Saint of Lore."

Those luminous purple eyes flick to Sjet briefly and soften, "I name you ignorant child. Ignorance is not a sin, only wallowing in it. Anger borne of ignorance is worthless, but when you are wise enough to apologize I will gladly share my table with you. You have much to learn." Then they return to Droplets, hardening, lips curling into a vicious sneer, "You cared little enough for our traditions in life, and less in death. Much and more I know of your kind. I will shed no tears for the heretics, but I know your soul is sworn to a foreign power. Who do you call your master, that you place before our beloved city?"

The mood of the chamber darkens. Many among the Counted look askance at Droplets. The Speaker, brow furrowed, turns to the Chosen assembled before him, "Chosen, who fought for the city in its time of need, the Chamber calls upon you."

 

[Psychie]

Garret is no diplomat, and despite being a newly Exalted Lunar, he is feeling quite intimidated being in the same chamber as so many high ranking members of the city. He looks back and forth from Droplets and Sjet to the Saint, wondering what to do.

He briefly clears his throat, saying, “Noble counselors, let us not be too hasty in trying to evict Lady Droplets from the city. We may be facing another push from the Bronze Tide attempting to strike at the city soon, and we will need all hands on deck to be able to stop them. We have lost the element of the surprise of the sudden appearance of so many people gaining their Exaltation at once. Why don’t we look at the fact that the Lady Droplets fought to protect the city when she could have stood aside and done nothing. Let her actions dictate your response to her.”

 

[Red Shadow Claws]

Droplets looks around the assemblage, before fixing her gaze at the so-called Saint of Lore, letting her dislike of him harden. "You're right, there are some traditions that I dislike, but not the most important one, that of following the Ancestors, and I've never stopped following that. With my Second Breath, I have sworn myself to be the voice of all ancestors, and that is to be my task. I have no master, other than my own. But be aware, when you've exiled me from the city, you cast me to the wilderness. I have made the wilderness beyond the sweet confines of the city my home. Cast me out again, and it will become my domain."

OOC: Taking a minor Tie of hatred to the Saint of Lore

 

[Random Word]

On the Deck of the Guiding Star - Off the coast of Ombrelune - Conrad Utterdepth
MasterDAF

The familiar saltspray on the warm evening breeze is soured by acrid ash and smoke. The sun is setting behind you, but still the horizon glows angrily ahead of you, the reflected glow of the fires in the plumes of red smoke raging against the coming dark. The black cat napping beside you in a plush purple velvet bed awakes, stretches lazily, nuzzles her cheek against your hand, then freezes with paws outstretched as her eyes open and she catches sight of the sky. In a quicksilver flash the cat is replaced by a tall woman with features of regal Southern cast, her long black hair cascading in shining waves over a purple and black silk robe of the night sky dotted with gleaming silver stars. Sabah al'Uhra, the negotiator who met with you on behalf of the Black Lion that fateful day your souls reunited. In her hand appears from nowhere a crystal glass of fine red wine. You recognize the scent of her favourite vintage from the Lap. You have no idea how many bottles of it she has hidden in her pockets, and inquiries are deflected with a playful and mysterious smile. She usually savours it, but today she takes it in gulps.

"With protectors like these, who needs enemies, yes?" she whispers darkly in Flametongue, her features twisted in disgust. "Tip their heads and sand will come out."

Azul, the bright young smuggler out of Wu Jian who you chartered to get you here, approaches, bowing slightly. "Your pardon m'lord, m'lady, the city's been sacked mostlike, and they won't be in any mood for hospitality. With all due respect, I recommend we change course immediately and find you a friendlier port of call. I don't fancy my chances against whoever did that, and I wager they're still about," she says in Wavetongue with that characteristic Wu Jian drawl.

Sabah turns away, vaguely embarrassed. She comprehends Wavetongue well enough, but her accent and conjugation are still terrible and she avoids speaking it wherever possible. She addresses you in Flametongue, "If you are set on visiting this isle, sun-of-my-sky, you may reassure the captain. I will cloak the vessel in mist and shadow to see her safely to shore and away again. My kin will not find her. If they do, I will have words."

 

[MasterDAF]

Though he has no professional sailing experience to speak of, Conrad Utterdepth spent much of his youth down by the coastline in Faxai's bay. Depending on the day he might climb along the rocks uncovered in the surf while the tide pulls out to sea, and pretend to be a mystical warrior of the Caul fighting off the Fae and their fell beasts. Or he may spend the better part of a day on the royal docks listening to the tales of deckhands as they move cargo, the stiff breeze and salty air a constant companion to each story.

It was these memories that traced their way through his mind now, a comforting reminder carried on the ocean breeze to provide calm as his heart beat more rapidly. The fires ahead, and the destruction they assuredly promised, sowed seeds of doubt as to the success of this endeavor. Conrad loosened his tunic open at the top, pulling free the buttons and allowing the salt-laden air to cool his skin. He laid his hand absent-mindedly upon the small purple velvet bed beside him and observed the quickly darkening path ahead.

I hope I have not brought her out to this shadowed city for naught.

In their few short months together, Conrad had become well acquainted with Sabah's shape changing capabilities and some of the other gifts Luna had graced to her Chosen. Knowledge of a concept and familiarity with its occurance were proving to be quite separate however, and the Quicksilver Falcon still found himself stifling a reaction of surprise when his beloved adopted a new shape before his eyes. As the Lunar Exalt awoke and her black feline coat gave way under a flash of moonlight into that of her Southern human form, Conrad was once again amazed at the smooth transformation.

He watched her raise a glass of wine to her lips and take a healthy swallow. "If I were not mistaken, I would wager that to be some of your Laplander V'neef Red." Conrad winked, "though I am more accustomed to you enjoying it from a snifter than a flagon." A rougish grin spread across his face, and he hoped his Flametongue pronounciation was clear enough to communicate his teasing tone.

The playful smile she graced him with in response sent his heartbeat into overtime, and set aside his worries for the moment. He listened in silent agreement to her criticism of the scourge that assaulted Ombrelune, and considered what sort of abilities or armaments they must've had to wreak such havoc. He soon noticed Azul making her way across the deck and returned her bow as she approached them.

After the young smuggler finished updating the pair of Exalts, Conrad gave her a curt nod of acknowledgement and then turned back to Sabah. He briefly weighed the statements of the two women, but with the rejuvenated confidence he felt having her at his side he was sure the path forward was still the right one. "I am sure."

The Solar relayed his mate's offer of reassurance to the smuggler. "You can trust no harm shall befall yourself or your crew this night. Sabah al'Uhra's word is as unassailable as the great and terrible Siakal herself; you'll find none more reliable than she."

With the arrangement finalized, Conrad placed a gentle hand on Sabah's lower back and led her out of earshot. "Your help is invaluable, moon-of-my-night, I will not tarry long." He closed his eyes a moment and allowed himself to focus. "This subtle urge towards Ombrelune remains. By Sol's grace, perhaps they still draw breath."

The Solar checked his equipment to ensure it was all securely fastened to his person, then favored Sabah with a quick kiss. "I shall send a missive within three days with news of my circle-mate, alive..." Conrad let the remainder trail off, his somber gaze fixed on the approaching fires and filling in the unspoken words.

OOC

Conrad is using social influence on Azul, attempting to instill a minor tie of trust to Sabah. His base instill roll is Charisma (5) + Presence (4) = 9 dice. He is also using the charms Harmonius Presence Meditation (5m) and Listener Swaying Argument (2m) to reduce the cost of social charms, add 3 dice, and add 1 success. So in total he spends 7m personal essence, rolls 12 dice, and adds a success; this nets 7 total successes, to be compared to Azul's Resolve.

Spoiler

Health Levels
-0 [ ]
-1 [ ][ ]
-2 [ ][ ]
-4 [ ]
Incapacitated [ ]

Essence: 1
Personal: 6 / 13
Peripheral: 33 / 33
Committed: 0
Willpower: 7

Join Battle: 6 +3i

Dodge DV: 3
Parry DV: 6
Resolve: 4
Guile: 3

Soak
Natural: +2
Armored: +5, +0 Hardness
Total: +7

 

[Random Word]

On the Deck of the Guiding Star - Off the coast of Ombrelune - Conrad Utterdepth

The young captain nods, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin, "Yes m'lord." She looks to the helmsman, "To shore! And all hands ready to row."

Sabah's lips taste of cardamom and cinnamon and wine, and she runs her fingers through your hair, nails across your scalp as you draw her in. "Such a poet, my sun," she whispers with a smile, then her expression becomes serious. "I have heard these people traffick with the dead in impure ways, and bind them beyond their time. Be cautious amongst them my sun. Nothing good comes of the schemes of the restless dead."

She steps away and draws from her cloak a cedar tray inlaid with silver. She concentrates, biting her lip as she pours brightly coloured sand from tiny jars produced from nowhere to form intricate patterns, then looks up and whispers something. Her words are immediately snatched away by a gust of wind along with the sands. The full moon discreetly averts its gaze and the ship falls into darkness. A thick mist rises from the waves to wreathe the ship, muffling the sounds of the oars as they're pulled out for the final approach to shore.

Azul looks pained as she approaches, "M'lord, the beach would be my first choice, but it's... lively for the night after a sacking. My lookouts report dozens of cookfires with the look of a camp. If you want to arrive discreetly, there's a rocky cove nearby. The footing will be treacherous, but no one will see you. The beach will be much safer, but you'll take your chances with the locals."

The Hall of the Counted - Everyone Minus Conrad

The hall looks curiously upon this towering giant of a man, of noble bearing if not noble birth, and now acclaimed a hero. A bell rings and the Speaker calls, "Seraphine Phenyra, the chamber calls upon you."

A woman with a powerful build despite her years, grey hair tied in a braid, and an unmistakably martial stance and the scars to support it stands. Her hand seems to rest unconsciously near the hilt of a sword she no longer bears. "The dockworker Garret is known to me. My family owes him a great debt for his service in protecting our fleet. If he would speak for this woman, we will hear no talk of exile.They are both welcome to find quarters in our estate." This raises some eyebrows, and there is much whispering in the galleries.

The Saint of Valour, once called upon, rises, his young vessel's arm in a sling expertly prepared by Sayuri. His soft yet piercing whisper fills the chamber, "I will attest to the Lady Droplet's valorous service to the city. I too will hear no talk of exile, nor aspersions of foreign masters."

The Saint of Lore and half of the Rashid delegation look incensed, and they are not alone, but the Speaker looks relieved as he addresses the chamber, "We shall defer the matter of the Lady Droplet's status until after this moment of crisis is passed! Now, a return to our pressing agenda. Lady Sjet, it has been reported to this chamber you activated the sleeping fortress on the hill and dispatched the enemy fleet in disarray, and we have heard you attest to the truth of these rumours. We are forever in your debt. How did you accomplish this feat, and what other miraculous capacities does the fortress have, should the enemy return? I trust we can count on your further service to repel them?"

At this the attention of everyone in the chamber is firmly fixed on Sjet, waiting with bated breath.

 

[Equusheart]

Sayuri glanced back as they rose to finally enter the Hall. When she noticed the crab had nestled itself in her quiver, seemingly set on staying with her, Sayuri gave a smile of approval. "Very well, little one," she whispered. She made a mental note to herself that if the crab was to become a companion, she would have to find a name for the little fellow.

Stepping into the chamber, Sayuri paused to glance about the great obsidian Hall. Taking in its immensity and the assemblage that filled it. Her gaze lingered on the boxes where the Counted were seated and she took a breath to suppress the chill up her spine and the rise of her nerves at the sight of them. This surely was an event of great importance in they had deemed it fit to attend. She turned and gave a reassuring smile to Sjet and the others before turning away to go to the Akechi family box.

She sat in silence, her hands clasped in her lap as she listened to the others speak. She frowned in concern as the Speaker was interrupted by the Saint of Lore, who seemed not to pleased with Droplets' presence in the Hall. Within the next moment the room was in an uproar and Sayuri found herself reaching forward for her own bell, it's silvery tone echoing into the chamber as her eyes turned urgently onto the Speaker.

Hearing her bell, the Speaker turned his orange eyes to Sayuri. She recognized him from the few times he attended her father's banquets and he seemed to have some recognition of her as he nodded in her direction.

"Lady Akechi, the chamber recognizes you," he called. Sayuri felt eyes turn to her and for a brief moment Sayuri wished that hadn't rung her bell, or at least had some of her family here to help back her. Her thoughts turned to Ryu, to her big brother, but he was not here. Only her. Taking a breath to steal herself, Sayuri stood and wetted her lips with her tongue before speaking.

"I beg your pardon, Your Excellencies," she spoke, trying to keep her voice clear. "I would like to speak in support of the Lady Droplets. If she hadn't been here to give her aide, we wouldn't have been able to safe guard the city. I feel that regardless of whatever sin she may have committed, her actions should earn her some level of remission."

 

[Sherwood]

Lady Sjet, it has been reported to this chamber you activated the sleeping fortress on the hill and dispatched the enemy fleet in disarray, and we have heard you attest to the truth of these rumours. We are forever in your debt. How did you accomplish this feat, and what other miraculous capacities does the fortress have, should the enemy return? I trust we can count on your further service to repel them?"

At this the attention of everyone in the chamber is firmly fixed on Sjet, waiting with bated breath.

Sjet clears her throat and does her best to hide her anxiety at addressing so many people at once. She is far more comfortable sitting with a good book instead of talking in public. “The manse is currently damaged due to my efforts to stop as many ships as I possibly could. I pushed the weapon too hard, but our need at the time was great and I thought it was a necessary course of action. It will take several days for the manse to be able to repair itself to full function, but the Bronze Tide doesn’t know that. It is a weapon that was designed to be used only by an Exalt of the Unconcerned Sun, and it’s bound to my Essence.”

Aftera brief pause, she continues with, “As for what other powers it offers, I have only scratched the surface of what it can do. I suspect that it can control the weather in a small area above the island, but experimentation in that field must be done with caution to avoid serious damage to the community. There is quite the repository of First Age books that will take some time to go through, some of which can be put to good use. I will be exploring the depths of that knowledge for years to come.”

 

[MasterDAF]

Nothing good comes of the schemes of the restless dead.

Conrad internalized these words of advice, months of learning from Sabah having already taught him the wisdom to be gleaned from her experience.

The Solar watched with interest as her magic encircled the ship and cloaked it in the surrounding mist. He turned to Azul as she approached, and nodded at her second recommendation.

"As the old adage says, sometimes discretion is the better part of valor. Let us make for the cove."

OOC

Conrad chooses to takes a minor intimacy (principle) based on Sabah's shared wisdom.

 

[Random Word]

On the Deck of the Guiding Star - Off the coast of Ombrelune - Conrad Utterdepth

Waves crash and break over the jagged black rocks of the coast, almost drowning the grunts of exertion from the rowers pulling your small boat to shore. The ingenuity of Wu Jianese smugglers never ceases to amaze. Her ship has a crane for lowering a smaller ship into the water, for just such a night time landing on a remote and hazardous shoreline as this. The water is warm as you heave your belongings overhead and pick your way carefully over the slick stones, bracing yourself against the waves, a safety line tied about your waist. Once you reach a slightly drier rock you untie it and begin your ascent. In a flash an osprey becomes a small black cat that almost disappears into the darkness. She conjures a pale beam of silver light and leads the way up the treacherous rockface to the headlands above. There's a trail, she assures you, but in the dark it's enough to give a mountain goat pause.

[Roll Stamina + Athletics, difficulty 3, or take a level of fatigue for the strenuous climb. Suggestions for alternative rolls or creative approaches are welcome.]

From the top of the headlands you can see down onto the beach below. The campfires are clearly visible, and in their flickering light you can see the shadowy outlines of perhaps dozens or hundreds of warriors, scattered supplies, and a disciplined but hurried effort to construct a fortified camp for the night. You are no stranger to war, and neither are these people, whoever they are. The strange part is they seem a beachhead without any ships. Perhaps they wait for ships to meet them soon, but this leaves them in a perilous position should they be attacked.

In the distance you can see the burning city of Ombrelune, and smaller fires in the countryside between there and here. Will you press on into the dark, or attempt to make camp for the night?

The Hall of the Counted - Everyone Minus Conrad

"The chamber receives the wisdom of the Lady Sayuri with gratitude," intones the Speaker with a nod. "Your testimony will be considered when the matter is reopened - after the enemy is dispatched. Let no valorous friend of the city be spurned in her hour of need."

Sjet's report to the chamber draws much whispering and signing amongst members and audience alike. "Thank you, brave Sjet. We have heard of many grave threats to the city this night. The Bronze Tide fleet remains at large, and may strike at any moment. There are reports of pillaging in the countryside estates from scattered bands of the enemy, taking a terrible toll on the harvest. The great weapon must be restored. The Lintha will doubtless press their designs on Half-Moon Bay without our brave navy to rebuke them, threatening to choke our sealanes. The Counted have much to discuss, but you have fought bravely and well, and will need to be well rested should the enemy strike again. In case we need to rouse you in an emergency, where will you make your quarters?"

Lady Phenyra clad in scars stands again, "I offer the fortified estates of the Phenyra to the hero Garret and any who he considers his kin. There is nowhere safer, and our armourers will see them prepared for the dawn." The Phenyra make fine arms and armour, are finer sailors, and have deep pockets.

Lady Zahara, with the impertinence of youth, stands and counters, "Our heroes deserve nothing but the finest repose in victory. I offer the estates of the Zahara. There are many who would care to meet you." The Zahara have exquisite artisans skilled in working exotic materials, and their salons are the most talked about social events in the city. They know anyone who is anyone.

An as yet quiet figure from the second group of Rashid stands, to the alarm and consternation of the first group. "I would offer my personal Underworld estate to the esteemed emissary Lady Droplets and her entourage. Not all of my family are so... inhospitable. Some of us understand your unique tastes."

An older man with a wise mien stands, the Lord Qadir, "Lady Sjet. Our scholars and alchemists would be honoured to meet you, and render any aid you might require." Sayuri sees several of her family members bristle at this, for the Qadir are the longstanding rivals of her family, specialists in cultivating and employing - some might say recklessly - the rare plants that grow on the border with the Underworld, nourished with life and death alike. It would hardly do to see the heroes grant them undue favour. Naturally, Sayuri is free to offer her own family's estates, which are some distance outside town. Her family also maintains a much smaller compound within the city walls, but large enough to accommodate the circle without discomfort.

 

[Red Shadow Claws]

Droplets bows at the Rashid man that invited her "Thank you, I'm afraid I do not know your name, but you have my thanks for the offer. I do not wish to cause trouble for you with the 'Saint of Lore'" She says a bit derisively before continuing "and the rest of your family. I will find my own way into the Underworld, to assess the situation there, and announce my presence to the venerated Ancestors."

 

[Equusheart]

Sayuri nodded at the Speaker's words before turning her attention to Sjet, listening to her report and the reaction from the others. When asked where their lodgings would be, a few stood to offer their hospitality. When the Lord Qadir stood to offer his, Sayuri could almost immediately feel the tension build from the members of the Akechi clan that were seating in the booth. The Akechi and Qadir had been long rivals.

Hoping to stave off angry words, Sayuri stood to offer her voice on her family's words. "The House of Akechi would be honored to lend their hospitality. It is small and some distance outside the city, but there should be room enough."

 

[MasterDAF]

Conrad struggled against the breaking tide, spitting warm seawater back into the surf while his muscles raged against the rushing waves. Upon reaching a raised and drier area, the young Solar paused to reoutfit himself in the gear he had portaged overhead through the swells. He worried if spotted during the ascent he would not have time to arm himself against possible assailants. Wet fingers slowly felt along in the low light for equally wet straps and buckles, and he thanked the gods at least they weren't cold as well.

In the daylight his leather armor was a handsome brown color, but having been soaked first in the surf and now surrounded in the dark by a barely-lit rockface, one could be forgiven for thinking it was closer to a matte black in appearance.

Perhaps it will prove helpful to enter the city without drawing attention.

The Prince's thoughts were interrupted as a particular piece of outcropped rock proved exceptionally perilous and broke free under his grip. He scrambled furiously against the jagged rocks to secure a reprieve, slick fingers darting frantically into nearby crevices illuminated only by Sabah's pale silver glow. He felt a sharp pain shoot through his knee as something heavy slammed into his leg, but he managed to remain secured against the cliff face. He craned his neck around to watch the loosened chunks of rock plummet and disappear within the inky water below. After a few moments of waiting and hearing no new noises in response, the exalt looked back up to his mate and nodded towards the top of their climb with a grimace.

Sol, if you're watching, you'd best thank Luna when next you see her. If not for her silver light, my journey may have abruptly ended and your chosen would number at one less when the sun next rises.

The Quicksilver Falcon carefully shifted his weight to test the strength in his aching knee, then gingerly completed the climb to the top. He couldn't help but smirk at the irony that if he had the wings of a falcon, as the old First Age sobriquet suggested, he might not be in this painful predicament.

Pushing his injury out of mind for the moment, he looked over the headland out to the beach and the fortifications. He assumed the people of Ombrelune had erected them to slow the invaders, but something nagged at him to look more carefully.

Scattered campfires to scout the beach...fortifications to slow...hold on...

Like a torch illuminating a darkened cave, it dawned on Conrad that fortifications built to defend Ombrelune would not be turned away from the shoreline. These looked to be quickly staked positions facing inland, makeshift defenses most likely cobled together by the invaders to guard an attempted retreat.

But why wait at their beachhead? Surely they must have ships that could ferry them to safety?

The Solar could not answer this puzzle yet. If the invaders were huddled down for the night though, his chances of entering the city unnoticed had dropped drastically. The city would assuredly have their perimeter guarded against possible raids, and Conrad could not imagine sneaking in under such circumstances.

He looked to his Lunar mate, a rough plan quickly forming.

"I don't believe it possible for me to enter the city unseen this night. With my injury, stealth will be less likely than an unconditional surrender by the Black Lion himself." He paused, hesitant to speak, knowing she would not be pleased with his request. "But perhaps you could enter the city alone and begin covertly gathering information on the golden exalt. You could steal away inside their walls in ways I could but dream of."

If she protests, Conrad raises a hand silently palm towards her in a gesture to listen. "I know you worry for my safety while alone, my Silver-Moon, but I promise to act carefully. I will follow along at a pace that better allows me to heal and check on the scattered fires outside Ombrelune. I imagine their guard will be focused on the city proper, so those outside their immediate reach may be in need of aid or at risk of the brigands on the beach. I can help relocate them to the city while you begin investigating."

OOC

Conrad attempted the strenuous climb, rolling Stamina (2) + Athletics (1) = 3 dice. In total he rolls 3 dice, nets 0 successes, and gained one botch. This outcome was reflected via a health level of damage, putting Conrad into his -0 wound penalty and now suffering a -1 fatigue penalty. This can be readjusted if Storyteller prefers different botch consequence.

OOC

Conrad is using social influence on Sabah, attempting to persuade her to go on ahead of him. His base persuade roll is Charisma (5) + Presence (4) + Specialty (1) + Stunt (2) - Fatigue (1) = 11 dice. So in total he rolls 11 dice, this nets 4 total successes, to be compared to Sabah's Resolve. Conrad is also using Sabah's major intimacy of endearment to him to support his action, so her Resolve takes a -2 penalty. So the final calculation is 4 successes vs (Sabah's Resolve -2).

Spoiler

HEALTH LVLS
-0 [X]
-1 [ ][ ]
-2 [ ][ ]
-4 [ ]
Incapacitated [ ]

ESSENCE
Essence: 1
Personal: 6 / 13
Peripheral: 33 / 33
Committed: 0

WILLPOWER: ●●●●● ●● / ●●●●● ●●
LIMIT: [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] - [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]

COMBAT STATS
Join Battle: 6 +3i

DVs
Dodge DV: 4* (3 w/ armor penalty)
Parry DV: 6
Resolve: 3* (4 against persuade)
Guile: 3

SOAK
Natural: +2
Armored: +5, +0 Hardness
Total: +7

WEAPONS
Short Sword
Type: Light (+4 ACC, +7 DMG, +0 DEF, OVW 2)
Tags: Lethal, Melee, Balanced

Shield
Type: Medium (+2 ACC, +7 DMG, +1 DEF, OVW )
Tags: Bashing, Melee, Shield

 

[Random Word]

South of Ombrelune - Conrad Utterdepth

In a flash the moonlit silhouette of a cat is traded for that of a woman, only her eyes shining unnaturally bright in the light of the moon. "Sun-of-my-sky, I will do this thing for you before I must follow my duty elsewhere, but you ask me to find a grain of sand in the desert. Where am I to find your wayward sun in the midst of a city in chaos?" She shakes her head, "One night I can spare for this, no more. I will watch for those who approach the places of power, or stir the winds of essence. Be careful, lest I lose one sun searching fruitlessly for a second."

She gives you one last parting kiss, then with a rustle of feathers she takes wing and vanishes into the night, leaving you alone with only the campfires below and the distant glow of the city for light, the stars eclipsed by rising smoke. What will you do until morning?

The Hall of the Counted - Everyone Minus Conrad

One of the priests attending the mirror steps forward to whisper in the Speaker's ear, and he rings his bell, "Order in the chamber!" His eyes sweep over the assembled Exalts, settling on Sjet, "The city thanks you for your service, and your testimony before this chamber. All in favour of offering the City's full support to Lady Sjet in her efforts to restore the great weapon?" A chant of affirmation from the Counted and the spirits of the mirror, low and rhythmic, fills the chamber, along with a chorus of bells. "Passed! So be it. Lady SJet, Lady Droplets, Lord Garret, the chamber dismisses you. Keep us apprised of your plans, lest the city have need of you in this moment of peril."

You're ushered respectfully out of the hall while the Counted remain to debate reconstruction and war planning late into the night. Sayuri, your grandmother presses an ornate lacquered box of tea in your palm and closes your fingers around it. "For her wounds, and to help her sleep. Poor dear. Your friend, isn't she? The girl?" Your grandmother always had a patronising attitude towards the wild girl who saved you when you were young, but she would never say an ill word about someone who had done such a service for her beloved granddaughter. Now her eyes are shrewd and calculating. "Give her my best, and see to it when the time comes her interests are the family's interests. She's not to see those conniving Qadir. Your cousin's of like age with her, and unwed..." she trails off, looking into the distance, then snaps back. "Off with you then, and well done," her face lights up with the warm smile that's carved many of those wrinkles over the decades as she gives your cheek a kiss. "You brought honour to the family today, as always, blossom."

Outside the hall the streets teem with ghosts, work teams, soldiers, and the displaced. As night fell the dead poured from the Coldfire market. Long chain gangs of slaves from the Timeless Order shuffling under the lash of overseers, shifting rubble and hauling river water to douse fires, searching for survivors, singing dirges as they work. Fierce warriors from the Headless Host laughing and singing as they move to relieve the living soldiers in their vigil at the city walls until daybreak. Scribes from the Gloaming Hall with long scrolls of shimmering moonlight and blood red ink to count the living and dead, tally the damage, and send messenger ravens to coordinate the work. And the Ferrymen to carry them all across the river. Attendants of all the great families stand a polite distance away, should you wish to take up an invitation to find lodgings with them. An elderly ancestor priest carries a censer of pungent incense through the street, trailed by robed attendants, on his way to perform funerary rites. He passes an old woman ladling thin soup into bowls from a great cauldron for a line of haggard looking families, their faces alternatively pictures of shock, grief, and grim triumph in the flickering light of the cookfire or the pale ethereal glow of the passing lanterns of ghosts. The woman at the head of the line wraps her torn cloak tight around herself to hide her wounds, but her pallor suggests she's unlikely to survive the night. Her small daughter clings to her mother white knuckle tight, her eyes darting about in fear. There are hundreds of scenes like this tonight throughout the city.

Sjet, your body aches from your wounds, and an exhaustion like nothing you've ever felt before wrestles against the electric urge to act from the new essence coursing through your veins.

What will each of you do?

 

[Red Shadow Claws]

Droplets looks at her fellow Exalts. A twinge of pride for Sjet, and a strange feeling of respect for Garret, and of course, gratitude for Sayuri. "I plan to head to the Underworld, to see about the Ancestors. We will need to enlist their aid. Did anyone see what happened to the troops on the ships that were burned? Depending on their skills, they might have survived, and since I doubt their other ships could pick them all up, they might well have washed ashore. Anyone care to go to the walls to take a look? If I go to the Underworld, I'll be able to find a passage outside the city, and I'd rather not face enemy troops, though my magic can certainly cause them to flee."

 

[Equusheart]

Sayuri rose to her feet once everyone had been dismissed. When her grandmother stepped up to her and handed her the box, Sayuri nodded her head at the instructions.

"I will see that she gets this," she replied. The grandmother's next words had her eyebrows shoot up in a mix of surprise and shock.

"Grandmama!" Sayuri exclaimed, her voice quivering slightly with amused laughter. Was she really eyeing Sjet for her cousin?? Sayuri only shook her head as she embraced her Grandmother, returning her kiss on the cheek.

After departing from the Akechi box, she returned to Droplets, Sjet, and Garrett.

"I don't know," she said, answering Droplets question as to the troops on the burned ships. "I should like to see what more can be done. So many injured..." Sayuri shook her head somberly before turning to Sjet.

"Here," she said, handing Sjet the ornate box. "This is for you. To help with sleep and your wounds."

 

[MasterDAF]

Conrad's heart felt heavy as Sabah's avian shape shrank smaller into the distance and then disappeared within the smoky night sky. Though he was glad she was willing to spare even one night to aid in his search, her words rang with undeniable truth. Finding a single individual in a large city was already a difficult task. To do so in the chaotic aftermath of a siege was fit only for one blessed by the Celestial Incarna. Assuming it could be done at all.

We must at least try. We've come too far to stop now.

He performed a swift double-check of his gear, ensuring his armaments were within easy reach in case danger found him in the midst of his hike to the city outskirts.

Perhaps there will be townspeople from Ombrelune in need of help outside their city walls. I can join with them to provide aid, possibly gather information, and then gain entry amongst them.

The young Solar took one last look at the sky to wish his mate good luck, then began his careful trek towards the burning city in the distance.

 

[Sherwood]

Sayuri rose to her feet once everyone had been dismissed. When her grandmother stepped up to her and handed her the box, Sayuri nodded her head at the instructions.

"I will see that she gets this," she replied. The grandmother's next words had her eyebrows shoot up in a mix of surprise and shock.

"Grandmama!" Sayuri exclaimed, her voice quivering slightly with amused laughter. Was she really eyeing Sjet for her cousin?? Sayuri only shook her head as she embraced her Grandmother, returning her kiss on the cheek.

After departing from the Akechi box, she returned to Droplets, Sjet, and Garrett.

"I don't know," she said, answering Droplets question as to the troops on the burned ships. "I should like to see what more can be done. So many injured..." Sayuri shook her head somberly before turning to Sjet.

"Here," she said, handing Sjet the ornate box. "This is for you. To help with sleep and your wounds."

Sjet feels the need for sleep in every pore of her being, both to regain her spent energy but to also to let her body be able to focus on healing from her near terminal injury. Struggling to keep her eyes open until the city council dismisses them is a necessary evil; no need to offend anyone by nodding off in the middle of the meeting.

When everything is resolved for the time being Sjet makes her way along, hardly aware of where she is or where she’s going until Sayuri stops her and offers to her the ornate box. A sleepy smile comes to the young Solar as she looks at the container in her hand. “Thank you, my friend. I am in dire need for a good night’s sleep and hopefully I’ll be able to move easier the morning. Where is the best place for me to lie down? Before I fall asleep on my feet, that is!”

 

[Random Word]

A Dark Road - Conrad

The degree to which the wilderness by night differs from the refined palaces of your upbringing is difficult to overstate. You cut through the underbrush with more enthusiasm than skill, and find it in turn cuts through you. This is a far cry from the hunts you joined into the jungles of the Caul, and only the column of angry red smoke rising from Ombrelune allows you to orient yourself when you become lost. Sounds ahead cause you to come up short. There is the trumpet of an elephant, the creaking wheels of a cart, angry shouts, and cries of alarm. It is perhaps for the best that you are still concealed in the brush for you likely make a sorry sight, sweaty, bloodied from countless small scrapes, and clothing considerably more tattered than when you began.

Still, your stumbling and slashing has attracted attention. A voice calls out in wavetongue with a strong but unfamiliar accent, "What's that crashing about? That best not be another one of those boars! Fucking vicious they are here."

Another replies, "I'm sure they're fucking delicious when roasted! Here boar-y boar!"

[Give me a Perception + Awareness if you want a better idea of what's going on, or a Dex + Stealth to try to misdirect those who have been alerted to your presence.]

 

[MasterDAF]

"This seems a good deal more burdensome than I remember."

Conrad spoke aloud to the trees, vines, and undergrowth inhabitants as they scurried hurriedly around his unfocused attempt to bushwhack a trail through their habitat. The foliage and vegetation slowly gave way under his wayward chops, but each foot cleared to form his haphazard path cost the quickly tiring Exalt both time and energy.

At this rate, I suppose I'll reach the city around Calibration....of next year.

Conrad did not want to slow his push forward any more than necessary, but an errant misstep across the large root of a cypress tree caused his knee to begin throbbing again and he knew it was time for a break. He laid his pack and sword nearby, lowered himself to the ground so that he could sit against the offending cypress and took a deep breath to rest and refocus.

Just as the forest dwelling creatures must have been surprised earlier by his unplanned trampling through their homes, it was his turn now for eyes to fly open at the unexpected calls and shouts originating out of sight but uncomfortably close by.

The Solar quietly moved himself around the large waisted tree trunk so that it stood between himself and the direction of the calling voices. Using the thick lower branches on his side as a makeshift ladder, Conrad attempted to get a better view. He climbed a short rise off the ground while keeping his profile broken up within the shadows of the tree limbs.

OOC

Conrad attempts a perception roll to see who/what is stopped nearby in the jungle, rolling Perception (2) + Awareness (2) + Stunt (2) - Fatigue (1) = 5 dice. He also uses the charm Sensory Acuity Prana (double 9s), costing 5m, and purchases 2 Awareness dice via excellency. In total he rolls 7 dice, spends 7 personal motes of Essence, and nets 5 successes.

Spoiler

Active Scene Charms:
- Sensory Acuity Prana

HEALTH LVLS
-0 [x]
-1 [ ][ ]
-2 [ ][ ]
-4 [ ]
Incapacitated [ ]

ESSENCE
Essence: 1
Personal: 4 / 13
Peripheral: 33 / 33
Committed: 0

WILLPOWER: ●●●●● ●● / ●●●●● ●●
LIMIT: [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] - [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]

COMBAT STATS
Join Battle: 6 +3i

DVs
Dodge DV: 4* (3 w/ armor penalty)
Parry DV: 6
Resolve: 3* (4 against persuade)
Guile: 3

SOAK
Natural: +2
Armored: +5, +0 Hardness
Total: +7

Weapons
Short Sword
Type: Light (+4 ACC, +7 DMG, +0 DEF, OVW 2)
Tags: Lethal, Melee, Balanced

Shield
Type: Medium (+2 ACC, +7 DMG, +1 DEF, OVW )
Tags: Bashing, Melee, Shield

 

[Equusheart]

Sayuri smiled back at her friend as Sjet took the box Sayuri had handed her. Seeing how exhausted she looked, she placed a hand on Sjet's shoulder.

"Please, I insist you come to my family's compound," Sayuri urged. "It's not as grand as the plantation hold, but it is enough. You will be fed and washed, if you wish, and given a soft bed." Sayuri looked off towards the docks, her expression torn. She wished to accompany Sjet herself, and yet the healer in her wanted to see what else could be done to help before retiring herself.

Looking around, Sayuri waved over a page, a boy about fourteen, carrying the Akechi sigil.

"Could you please see the Lady Sjet to the Akechi compound just outside the western gate. Tell them Sayuri has sent her and said to give her a family welcome." Sayuri turned back to Sjet. "I'd go with you myself, but..." Sayuri glanced towards the docks once before turning back. "I want to see what more can be done to help." She gave a shrug and a sheepish smile, hoping Sjet understood. Sayuri then turned to Garret. "You are welcome to stay at my family's compound as well, if you wish."