Sagas of Wayward Suns - Arc 1

Resonant Hammer's Descent

"Weakened or no, the Realm is not going to let six Anathema of our... hmph... caliber run roughshod over what is nominally a Realm territory. Considering what The Hunt does for one Anathema they'll send a Legion, maybe two, plus a score of Monks."

He leans forward, and raps his knuckles on the table. "Now, I can outfit a hundred men in a day, once I get back to my forge, but I'm not one to lead. Last time a Hunt came after me I ran, and others suffered for it. Not this time. This town is doomed, we'll be lashed to this rebellion now, for good or ill, and innocents will suffer if nothing is done. In two weeks I should have almost enough arms to outfit two thousand fighters. Standing beside these good folks ancestors, that should be enough to hold the walls at the least, if someone can train them. The Monks will be our issue, no chance mortal folks can stand up to those." He turns to Red. "You said you were the commander of the guard? What is the state of your troops?"
 
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Red Snow

"Incompetent, ill-equipped, untrained and probably a bit corrupt. They'll be whipped into shape inside a week."
She takes a deep swig of the beer. Weak Southern piss. Looks around at the constables scurrying around. Spear fodder, but she'll make sure they at least die well.
 
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Gentle River

River swigs his beer and winces. "This is all good and well, but the people here have no reason to trust us, or look to us for leadership, save perhaps for the commander here. Given time, however, I think I can win them over. Who is this "Bull" I heard talk of, anyway? Are they like us?"
 
Radiant Shine

Shine politely requisitions a cup of wine, which he sips and finds... passable.
"I have heard of this Bull - like us, by all accounts. A warlord, a reaver, a slayer, lashing the Icewalkers into an empire that he might crush the Scarlet Throne 'neath his tread."
The doctor lights his pipe, puffs, and relaxes.
"Or so it is rumoured."
 
Resonant Hammer's Descent

"I can fix the equipment problem, at the least. I'll need every scrap of workable iron left in this town, alongside any more... exotic metals that I could put to use." He glances up at the angle of the Sun. "It's too late for me to leave now, even if all the materials were gathered already. I'll be going first thing tomorrow, with the baggage I'll be taking I should be home by dark tomorrow. Two weeks after that and I should have the outfitings for a battalion ready to go. How do you arm your soldiers?"
 
Iskandr

"Hammer is correct. It would be dishonourable and wasteful to throw mortal soldiers against the Hunt."

And would deny us the chance to turn the hunt upon them! A battle would be wasteful, when they name themselves so aptly.

"And...River, the Bull is Anathema of the Sun. He has, unlike the sun, risen in the North, and brought a newborn empire with him. His defeat of the Tepet legions is why the Dragons were forced to withdraw their garrison from here. He's no hero, he's a conquering beast himself, but a mighty one."

Iskandr is idly eyeing the southerner now.

"Armies march and use villages of innocents as lining for their boots. I would be wary that the Bull may become that which he fights."
 
Red Snow

"The Bull is a living god to a lot of my people. After he crushed the Realm's weaklings he started to unite the tribes, hundreds of clans under one banner. My own tribe pledged to him before I left, and we were far to the East."

She pauses, takes another swig of her beer.

"He's a bloodthirsty bastard alright, like First Snow says. Might be more tyrant than warlord these days."
 
Gentle River

River downs his pint of ale in one expert motion and waves the blushing young man over. "Hello again my darling, can you get me another? Splendid. Lovely, yes."

He takes a moment to assess the storm clouds gathering over the city. "This Bull sounds like he's fun at parties. But is this the plan? A half-dozen... Anathema, was it? Ugly word. Surely that can't be all we call ourselves. Anyway. A half-dozen of us dig in here, total strangers, build the town up in preparation for enemies you all seem very sure are coming, fight some cataclysmic battle against half the Immaculate Order and their mothers, and... then what? Just out of interest. I didn't exactly have plans this weekend, though I'm sure I'll make my own entertainment until we all get murdered."
 
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Distant forks of lightning illuminate the bellies of oncoming thunderheads. Godhammer thunder. The square is emptying quickly of folks heading indoors or back to work, apt to avoid the storm. Fat, cool drops of rain begin pelting the stones and the parasols you sit under, even missing Hammer's considerable bulk. More drinks and a few lanterns are brought out. Only children and the odd elder or two remain in the square after a few minutes, mostly mooning at the lot of you.

Conversation rolls a few minutes more as the rain becomes steady. The sky rolls up blankets of clouds to do away with the china sky. The lone star in the sky still can be seen like a pinprick coal, baleful and forge-red, to the Sun's golden plate diluted behind cloud cover.

The city sighs with the burbling of gutters and cleansing waters.

The bell Iskandr rang earlier tolls once more, twice, thrice, lingers in the air. There is a small procession coming downhill from the governor's block. Men ahorse flank a vividly colored palanquin held aloft by strange men.
 
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Red Snow

The governor needs to be carried to us? Weakness.

Red rises from the table, back straight and caste mark burning. She strides forward to meet the procession.
 
Iskandr

Oh. Oh, this will go well. This governor clearly has not been well briefed. She has a northern berserker lunatic inside her walls, and she responds with decadence? For her own sake, I hope she's a crippled war veteran or something similarly understandable.

If the characters have been there for long enough to have a couple of drinks, for the streets to clear, and for the storm to roll on in, then Iskandr's anima will have calmed a little. As it did, he'll have swept his scarf back over much of his face, leaving pale skin visible from the bridge of his nose to his brows. He'll offer a wink at Red, now that he can be seen, and the mark of the Night Caste shines through the fabric.

As Red takes off, Iskandr will glance towards the others.

"River? You're right in that this is moving very fast. You know what does not move fast? Legions. The Dragons of the Empress cannot pull armies from their pockets. Creation is vast, and the Realm is troubled. That is why Zala has risen in rebellion. The Realm cannot abruptly reverse their policy and march a Legion of soldiers here just because we popped up. No, I think a Wyld Hunt is more likely. Dragons alone. Yes."

It is not necessary to make any kind of read intentions roll here. Iskandr is looking forward to the Wyld Hunt.

"That does not mean I'm arguing against outfitting the town guard, mind. Resonant Hammer, your offer is startlingly generous, and the town will benefit from it in terms of their ability to see off raiders. However, a town guard will slow down a Wyld Hunt for mere heartbeats, at the cost of innocent lives. A large scale battle here is not what would be best for these people."
 
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Gentle River

River rises as the others do, falling in to step behind the Dawn caste and slightly to the left, walking abreast with Iskandr. Though his anima has almost completely faded, he keeps the golden caste mark glowing on his brow. "Just a death squad of highly trained Dragon-Blood assassins then. And to think I was getting nervous." He stretches like a cat as he walks, working out stiffness in his shoulders and clearly enjoying the drama of it all.

"You're quite right, of course. Even from my own experience, fighting a cadre of Exalted would demolish the entire city in short order. Still, lots of time to plan." he cracks his wrists and knuckles casually as they approach the palanquin.

"Half an obol says Red guts her mid-sentence."
 
Radiant Shine

Shine drains his last cup of wine and flicks his moustaches as falls in line "Another half says Red will merely make the governor... disgrace herself."
 
Iskandr

"What kind of company am I in, that people can so casually throw around half an obol?"

Iskandr pads between the raindrops, eyes on the rooftops.
 
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Resonant Hammer's Descent

"It would be naive, Hunter, to assume that a Hunt does not include mortal soldiers. The one that came after me brought two full battalions. I have a feeling they thought me more dangerous than I truly am."

He rises as the others do, follows in their wake. "Why would Red kill the governer? Doesn't she work for them? Regardless, summary execution may not be the best path here. Medoans are distrustful of outsiders in the best of times, I have learnt over the past couple of years, and killing one of their own will do nothing to endear us to them. I would suggest an early retirement, and the installation of a more level headed peer."
 
Iskandr

"It's really not my fault if they bring along mortal soldiers to stand between them and the arrows. I'll be disappointed in them, that's all. My Wyld Hunt were heroes. They fought like shadows between the snowflakes, and it breaks my heart that no-one can ever sing the song of their last day."

Again, Iskandr's not subtle. He's not being sarcastic or dismissive. He truly respected the people whom he's talking about. But he also probably murdered them, yes.
 
Gentle River

River looks thoughtful for a moment. "Sorry, how many Terrestrial Exalted were in your Wyld Hunt?"
 
Iskandr

"They were undermanned. They knew there was only one of me, and that I was a peasant with no army behind me, so it was five Dragons, led by an Immaculate. Had the day been fairer, they'd likely have taken me, but the snow fell, and they pursued me into it. I led them over the pass and down the valley, into the nest of a crag cat. Red's full name describes the pattern of the day, a few drops of my blood, and the river of theirs."

Iskandr glances to River, and the twitch of a smile is visible behind the scarf.

"I know that I was lucky. They were brave. Perhaps foolish. I sent word of their defeat to the garrison, and praised their courage."
 
Gentle River

River stares at him for a long, long moment. "Oh. Ok." He gives the burgeoning Circle a bright smile. "I don't know about you, but I for one feel considerably better that Iskandr is on our side. Where we can see him."
 
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Ferat:

"Disgraced, guts, the sooner it's over with the sooner the town can get on with whatever comes next. I wonder how much of their strength relies on ancestors. That's almost as blasphemous as being one of us in the Realm. Depending on who responds they might think it better to just destroy the town completely and salt the ashes."

"It's what I'd do, anyway. The dead only protect Zala while there's no necromancer looking for an army to enslave."
 
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