Sagas of Wayward Suns - Arc 1

Gentle River

As things seem to settle down towards something approaching amicability, River lounges back in his chair, tension seemingly forgotten. Just a drink with an old friend (a very old friend). However, his mind is racing, forming connections and implications in moments and processing out logical conclusions and endpoints flicker-fast. The facts as he sees it are this: Icewalker Samea, one-handed Left Hand of the Bull of the North, has sought them out personally. However, she has not announced her arrival through diplomatic channels, instead walking into Zala like a common traveler. Her presence suggests some respect of the Circle's power, but her diplomatic insult suggests not enough respect. It is possible she has come alone purely for the spectacle of meeting another Solar Exalt, but River finds it hard to credit. And then there's that smell... the stink of demons. She has not come defenseless. Not that I would do anything differently in that regard at least. He idly twists the onyx ring around on his finger as the talk goes on.

He studies Samea closely as the exchange continues. He watches the line of her jaw as she speaks, seeks hints of tension around the eyes, and studies posture with the casual practice of a master. Whatever her purpose here, he will know it. It's simply inevitable. And a matter of survival, he thinks bitterly. We are no Icewalker tribe to be coerced or flattered into submission. We are her equals, and Yurgen Bullfucking Kaneko's equals, too. She will be reminded if she has forgotten. He smiles a little wider at some passing quip, feeling at ease. He was built for this.

OOC: River will Read Intentions on Samea to determine what she wants out of this interaction. Spending 3m peripheral to activate Motive-Discerning Technique, which applies the double-9s rule to a Read Intentions action and allows me to use Wits instead of Socialise on the roll (which I will.) Also spending 5m personal to activate Harmonious Presence Meditation for the scene - it won't help with this roll but it will be useful shortly. Spending another 5m personal on the Socialise Excellency for an additional 5 dice. Finally this Read Intentions roll keys off River's Defining Principle ("Never Again Will I Be Anyone's Tool") so with the ST's consent that's another +4 to the roll. Need to find out if the difference between Appearance and Samea's Guile has any effect, too. Waiting on stunt outcome to roll. Mote pools are at 3/26, Anima is still Dim.



Since 9s are doubled there's 10 successes on the roll instead of 9. 12 total with a 3-point stunt. River also gets a point of temporary Willpower that takes him over his normal maximum.
 
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Resonant Hammer's Descent

By the Dragons, what is that stench, Hammer thinks to himself as he rises and makes his way to the bar, signaling the owner for another ale. As he waits he turns and leans against the bar, watching the table where his friends are sitting. He reaches up and pulls his hand across his eyes, looking past the purely physical.

[Spending 3Pmotes on Spirit-Detecting Glance, allowing Hammer to see immaterial spirits]

As the barman returns with his drink Hammer grabs his arm. "It might be best to quietly clear the room," he mutters, "just in case."
 
Red Snow

Right, River seems to have her attention. Good, he can handle himself if this goes south.
Red Snow takes another swig of her beer, eyes never leaving Samea.
Everyone knows she's a powerful witch, and she has nasty spirits under her thumb, but that don't mean shit with a spear in your neck. Let River take the first swing while I begin the war dance, call the spear and put it through her.
She stretches casually, scans the room. Notices the look on Resonant Hammer's face, raises an eyebrow at him.
Hammer's a shaman, he'll have to handle her magic. Iskandr will try and sneak around, gotta keep her attention off him. Kick the table at her. Ferat's no slouch with those gauntlets, and Shalla's a fucking wolf. No need to worry about them. Not sure about Shine, try and keep her away from him just in case.
Red smirks a little to herself, battle plan in place.
Come to MY camp acting like the fucking chief? Give me a reason, cailleach.
 
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Gentle River

After a few moments of studying Samea, River relaxes a little more. She's not hostile, for now, and she's told the truth as far as she's gone. He watches impassively as the rest of the Circle quietly clear the tavern and instinctively work out a plan of attack if this goes wrong, but he feels more confident this can be resolved without violence.

"Samea, let's be frank with one another. It is genuinely an honour to have you come to us, but surely you understand coming unannounced to Zala without notifying us through diplomatic channels is concerning? You both are yourself and represent one of the great powers of the North, a bulwark even the Tepet have broken themselves on. We both know you could level this city by yourself, and while we could stop you, it would be a Pyrrhic victory at best. So naturally we welcome you as our cousin, but there is a note of caution." He takes a swig of ale, pausing for a long, silent moment to appreciate the flavour.

"Of course, caution has brought you to us as much as curiosity or a sense of ancient kinship. We have seen what the Bull and his Circle have achieved, and now you have a fresh Circle of young Solar upstarts on your borders. What is their ambition? How will it help or hinder Kaneko and his dreams of Icewalker unification? Shall we ally, or will it be war?" He slams the empty tankard down on the table for effect as he says the last word.

"Or," River adds, quietly, "Will this young Circle bend the knee, accept the Bull as overlord? So many possibilities, and requiring immediate personal attention. So perhaps diplomatic niceties were overlooked in the name of haste. No harm done." He smiles warmly at her. "Icewalker Samea, you are here first and foremost to assess a potential threat. What do you make of us?"
 
Red Snow

She snorts reflexively at the mention of Icewalker unification, clenches her fist briefly before catching herself. Maybe the witch noticed, maybe not, Red couldn't give a fuck. Unification was a dirty word back home.
 
Iskandr

The huntsman leans forward and performs an act of unification between the pitcher of ale and River's now empty tankard, pouring right up to a perfect head. Not a word is spoken, and he doesn't so much as glance at Samea or River while doing so.
 
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@Hair

The barman nods, oddly relieved. You'll see him make for his two helpers with quickened conversation, they'll start making the rounds to the tables.

As for the stench? Oh, you see why. One of the bar girls walks through a hulking shadow just a few feet behind the Zenith witch. Hunkered over out of habit, trying not to touch the rafters. Two more are standing in the middle of the booths nearest the door, the people still chatting away, spooning soup through legs as thick as a man.

Ermyanthoi.
 
Resonant Hammer's Decent

Hammer's pupils and irises have been replaced by swirling hues of purple and red, as the sunset on a wet day. He sighs, shakes his head a little. Looking up he plucks a single speck of sorcerous power from Creation's weave, and smashes it quickly between his hands.

"Samea," he calls mildly, his unblinking gaze meeting hers between the wings of a perfectly formed butterfly. "I think we would all be a bit more comfortable if you had your... attendants wait outside." He takes a swig from his oversized tankard, gaze never straying from hers. He then flicks the piece of obsidian into the air like a coin, letting it puff away in a haze of glowing dust, and moves back over to the tense gathering.
 
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@Hair

"They don't bite lest I say so." She glances at you and the rest of the table. "I have three guests in the room with me. What power I may have, no fool walks into a room with six strangers on par with yourself. If you take umbrage, that's fine. But I've seen firsthand what we all can do."

@Chaka

"As to your voicing my concerns, bravo. You and Fear-Eater would have much to commiserate over." She rubs the bandaged stump of her arm, "I figured one of you would carry something like his voice. But our concerns are not for Medo. They're not a concern with Tepet lamed." She yawns. "As for coming unannounced, many don't. Especially those who wipe out Hunts." She clicks her eyes from face to face. "I didn't care for much else. I came with a warning. Not from Yurgen, not from me. In Pneuma, there are many lines being drawn about a lost Hunt from a month or two back."

@FuzzMonster
 
Gentle River

River sinks back into his chair, deflated. He glances sidelong at Iskandr, and runs his finger through his hair. "I'd wondered whose past was going to catch up with us first. We owe you an apology, I think." He gives the others a meaningful look.

"You've come a long way to warn us. But with as badly broken as you've left the Realm here, how much of a Hunt could they mount? We can dig in, prepare. If we have time." He takes a deep breath. "How long?"
 
Resonant Hammer's Descent

Hammer grunts. "I'll grant you that, I suppose. My apologies, I was a bit shocked, is all. Elementals are more within my experience."

He gazes into his ale, glancing up now and then at whoever is talking.
 
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Ferat:

"Ah, piss. Remember what the monk said? The ones that fled assumed one of our kind had taken charge long before we even arrived. They'll think we've already been preparing for months, and plan for defenses we don't have. Strength we never cultivated."
 
@Chaka

"Unsure. But with the loss of one, the Abbots quail. We have friends there keeping us appraised as we move further north. There are loud calls for shikari and the promise of protection and resurrection into high station for the next life. They may lean on mercenaries more than serpents, but we felt it good to tell you. Their eye is on Medo, even if the Satrap here is a paper tiger."

She rings a tiny bracelet of bells on her wrist, and the smell of blood flows out of the room like a disgusting breeze. "The Realm proper is beginning to poise itself to eat its own tail. Pneuma marches to a different drum being the heart of the Faith in the North."
 
Iskandr

Iskandr stirs, and a sad and gentle smile spreads across his face.

"Good old Ishin. I'd have enjoyed having a drink with that man. Alas. My friends, it seems I must offer you all an apology. My bravado has caught up to us. Should it please you, I can go await them on the road. They know that it was me, you see."

He looks to Samea and his smile broadens, emanating the good cheer and benevolence of cold wine on a hot summer's day.

"I have an heirloom for the Satrap of Medo. Paper tiger or not, I'd see her offered the last memory of Tepet Ishin, who died a hero. Thank you for telling us this, Samea. In this moment, I offer not an apology for my clowning, because we both know that I'll just piss you off again. Instead, I offer my genuine good intention to do better, and annoy you with more subtle wit should the day come."



Making a Charisma + Presence roll to instill, trying to shape an impression in Samea. The desired Intimacy is the following: Iskandr First Snow (Is both a goodhearted youth, and a cold-blooded killer) [Minor]

That's base five dice. Iskandr activates Harmonious Presence reflexively, for 5m Peripheral, gaining 3 dice. He also uses the Presence Excellency to gain 2 dice, at a reduced cost of 1m Peripheral. And, spending 2m Peripheral to mute all the above costs, so it will not show in his anima.
10 dice.

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@FuzzMonster

She smiles, nodding, "I don't think they've exactly narrowed down who it was, but six Anathema popping up in a city so soon after? Well, they can make conclusions." She sips her glass and winces at the bitter. "I'd recommend you install better vintners in the region, perhaps? This is as shoddy as my nan's poultices."

Thou hath instillled!]/spoiler]
 
Ferat:

"Better traps might be more pertinent. If a Wyld Hunt is on the way I'd prefer if they made the last leg of the march with snapped ankles. Still..."

Ferat rubbed his beard, thoughtful for a moment. The Wyld Hunt was, at least, a threat of known proportions.

"They're probably the lesser problem, when it comes right down to it. You're a sorcerer like Hammer, yeah? You've read plenty of ancient scrolls. Does the name 'Mul Hyades' mean anything to you?"
 
@Sarky (All)

She regards you coolly for a moment, searching your eyes for some hint of jest as the others.

Finding none she becomes grave, mouth drawn down after gulping her mug of wine. "We...we took up arms once and sent aid to Gethamane when we courted their favor. It was...a nightmare. Anyway. Beneath the Groaning Mountains are tunnels that branch and branch and branch more than any twig could dream. It is a quiet place to the pith. The ancestors of the Gethamanese aren't even the original inhabitants. The city was a ghost when they found it after the plague years." She pours another glass of wine, sipping as she slips into the guise of a scholar. "Did you know that? We had arrived in the city to talk with the leaders and things...went wrong. Fighting broke out and they drew us into those tunnels.

"Whoever built Gethamane built atop many layers of ruins and tunnels made Gods know when. One particular fight took place, I don't know, maybe a layer or two down, hundreds of feet below the city. More? We were running out of torches and things were following us in the dark. They chattered, clicked," she runs her fingers across the table like a spider, "but we never really saw them." Her eyes are a bit distant now. "They wouldn't follow us into this chamber. It looked like an old amphitheater, maybe an orrery. We could still here the creatures of the tunnels outside. There were bodies in there. Old. Yet somehow still intact, mummified. They died prostrate around a great representation of a bizarre constellation. Six or seven stars.

"Yurgen and his men were greatly unnerved. The man who would slay the Tepet Legions, unnerved. I was too busy trying to keep light among us and looking at the strange language written into the stars when Sedjek screamed, 'they're alive! They're alive!' We stopped and gathered together, back to back, several hundred icewalkers, cold, hard men and women, ready to piss because their talking came to our ears.

"The bodies were somehow still alive, if you want to call it that. Chanting a single word. 'Mul. Mul. Mul' Over and over like a child's rhyme."
 
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Gentle River

River visibly pales, taking a deep draught from his tankard in a shaking hand. "Go on."
 
"That place was enormous. You could probably fit Zala inside. I saw that much when I lit up the room with my anima. The far side of the room, if there was one, simply swallowed up my light. All those bodies just chanting away. It was like wind in a bellows, just barely above hearing. Yurgen was shouting and everyone fell upon the nearest ones with knife and fire." Samea shakes her head, staring at the dark coin of wine in her mug. "I couldn't guess how many were in there, who they'd been, where they'd come from. We were deep beneath the mountains.

"I think at one point it'd been above ground, but who knows. My warriors killed maybe a few hundred of the things, but they went on and on like the room, rank upon rank. Like a nation in prayer. We disturbed something a bit more tangible with that racket. Beyond the terraces of worshipers were holes in the rock, tunnels leading off everywhere. Something started pouring from the dark side. We ran."
 
Ferat:

Ferat's frown deepened as the sorcerer spoke. He too partook of a long, serious draught from his ale mug.

"Well, shit." he said softly. He considered the details so far.

"Do you recall if one of those stars was red, by any chance? That's the one who took Zala from the Realm. Arrogant bastard."