Silk And Murky Water

General Purpose Initiative Post!

Current fight: Trade hall assassination of Shadren Chall and sacred hunt of Opal Charinha



1 Guard - 6
1 Guard - Dead
2 Guards - - 3
Charinha - Dead
Chall - Dead
Lucky Honda - 8
Lucky Fang - 3
Multitude - 3
 
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FuzzMonster

Edgepeasant
Original poster
FOLKLORE MEMBER
The afternoon air is close and hot, nearly as hard to breathe as the dark water below. The town of Laharrangoon squats atop the biggest rise in dry land for miles around, with its limbs of pontoon bridges and raised longhouses sprawling out from it. The local custom used to be to relax and spend the afternoon in the shade drinking bitter tea, boiled and cooled, but the Guild wastes neither tea nor time on the new labour force they have brought. Now, flatboats mill in vaguely organised confusion as the harvesters of the swamp return to the processing huts with baskets of chipped bark from deep in the swamp. The overseers at the western stockpile gaze into the belly of a boat crewed by a pair of ragged young men, one darker skinned than the locals, one paler by far, and wave them off. Insufficient. Not good enough. Back to the swamp with you. Five baskets of raw gheeth-fibre or you will not eat tonight.

In the centre of the town, with the relative luxury of hard ground underfoot, local crafters weave reeds and carve wood, twine rope and tan hide. The market is session, but the shouts of trade are lacklustre, with the praise heaped upon the crispness of these water chestnuts, or the fire of those peppers seeming perfunctory. In the shade of the long overhanging roofs from the longhouses, old men mend nets, and old women smoke like fiends and play tonglin, a local game of knotted cords over a carved board.

The central tradehall, one street away and around the corner from the public market, sits with its doors open and the most privileged of the slaves set to fanning a breeze into the comfortable dim hubbub inside. Shadren Chall, probably the wealthiest mortal in a ten mile radius, sips tea with Opal Charinha. This latter worthy does not have her Guild membership. Yet. She has bought in hard to what they offer, and hers was the first locally owned slave barracks, hers the first captives working what had been Bhogra estate-rights.


Several beasts, humans, demi-gods, dabblers, tricksters and killers, all are somewhere in this territory.
 
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Burning Hive Multitude

Hive takes a mouthful of tea, savoring the bitterness as the tannins dry his mouth. He looks across the table at his companions.
"Charinha should be next door," he opens in his surprisingly lyrical voice. "One of her house slaves got word to us that she would be having an important meeting today. We don't know with who, but it's irrelevant. Any thoughts on how we should do this?"
 
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Lucky Honda

Across the table, Blossoming Pearl daintly sips her tea, cup clutched in a frail, kittery hand.

"Pass your Nana another one of those cakes please, dearie. I can't quite reach."

Her voice quavers like a reed in the wind before she leans in closer.

"Right, we got two options. We do it all quiet and sneaky-like, an approach commonly known as Fang Style.

The voice is suddenly significantly gruffer and deeper, and she snatches the plate of cakes with surprising speed, stuffing one in her mouth before continuing.

"Course, there's always the other option, a method I'm proud to call 'Going Full Honda'. 'S a bit louder, more screaming n' such. More fun though."
 
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Lucky Fang

The woman sitting across from "Blossoming Pearl" is the oldest, wrinkliest raisin of a creature you've ever seen. She tuts disapprovingly as her companion takes the tray. "Now now, Pearl, you'l spoil your appetite. You'll never be able to chew drywall on a full stomach."

She leans back in her chair, considering, a bony finger tracing the hilt of the wicked curved sword strapped to the underside of the table. After slightly too long, she remembers she's supposed to blink.

Lucky Fang grins widely, revealing his namesake for those with eyes to see. "Both? Both is good."
 
Lucky Honda

Pearl takes another cake of the tray, nonchalantly tossing it into her mouth. She gently nudges the bag at her feet, checking for the reassuring weight of the cloth-wrapped gauntlets hidden inside.
"We thinkin' normal loud or, like, supernatural loud? We can do this like Nexus, or we can do it like Al'Saranth."
 
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Lucky Fang

Fang noisily sucks soup from a bowl with a mostly toothless mouth. "I believe we're going for shock and awe today, so maybe Al'Saranth. I wonder if yon slaver will look as surprised as that Guild Factor did when you ate his stable and I stabbed him in the kidneys."

Fang-as-Grandmother glanced over at Hive. "Thoughts?"
 
Burning Hive Multitude

"Well, we intend to eat our once owner's heart. In an extremely public fashion, so we're in favour of going "Full Honda". Honda, we're going to want the teahouse leveled to the floor, we want witnesses. We care not about incidental casualties, the customers here profit from slaves, and better the slaves that serve them die if we cannot bring them with us today." Hive levers their self to their feet, their bulk in stark contrast against the aged women across the table.
"We are going to cover the front door. Fang, I assume we shall know when you have struck the first blow?"
 
Ursae-ul

Having walked the last few miles into town from the woods, a slightly more haggard youth than usual picked his way through the streets of Laharrangoon. His tail coiled around his left leg beneath his over-long coat and a shading hat concealed pointed ears. He kept himself to the shadows mostly, both for concealment and to keep his cat-eyes wide. It wouldn't do to be picked out again and round pupils are less telling.

His sense of the place of power was nearby... but he was tired and the journey had been long. So, first: tea.

He made his way to teahouse. He spared a glance for a table of two old ladies and a youth as he made his way to the counter to order jasmine tea. After ordering, he took a seat across the room from the other table and lowered the brim of his hat over his eyes.
 
Lucky Honda

The old woman's laugh is more of a guttural snort than anything else as she leans under the table, rummaging in her bag. "Hurr. Full fuckin' Honda." The gauntlets clasp around her spindly forearms almost of their own accord and she rises from under the table with a fierce glint in her beady little eyes. The gauntlets extend almost to the elbow, shining moonsilver plates over supple, wyld-touched leather. A boar's head, cast in profile, snarls from the backs of her hands as she raises her fists. "You boys better get movin' then, this party's about to start."

The tiny, wizened woman jumps up on the table, moonsilver fists raised high, and lets out a bone-chilling roar.

"WITCHA YOU SLAVIN' BITCHES WANTS TO FUCKIN' DANCE!"
Intricate, curling patterns of silver, telling the tale of a young man who fought the moon herself, flare across the old woman's frail body as she leaps from the table into the middle of the room and erupts out of her own skin, an explosion of muscle and bristly hair. Lucky Honda's true shape rises to the ceiling, a hulking brute covered in dark, bristly fur, tusks tearing free of his skin all over his muscle-clad body. Glowing silver eyes burn above a mouth bristling with tusks as he casually smashes the table at his feet into splinters.
"COME ON AN 'AVE A GO IF YA THINK YER FUCKIN' 'ARD ENOUGH!"

Activating Hybrid Body Transformation and Deadly Beastman Translation for 5 motes and 1 Willpower. Honda is now very large indeed.
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Rolling Join Battle. Wits+Awareness is 5, plus a 2 die stunt and adding Strength to the excellency. 10 successes total plus three makes 13 initiative.
 
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Chips of broken wood and ruined furniture seem almost to hang suspended in the air for a moment, and then the moment snaps and the screaming begins. The other patrons of the teahouse roll on the floor, and scramble to their feet from the mats tucked beneath and between low tables, as they begin to scramble for the doors and windows.

It's about to be a very bad day for [Persons Undecided].
 
Lucky Fang

Fang made a great show of falling backwards in shock and horror, pulling the cloth-wrapped sword under the table free as he does so. He scrambles out of the shadow into the street before the commotion erupts, then the old woman steps back into the crowd and vanishes. Any watching eyes lose her.

3m personal on One Of The Herd. No-one can distinguish Fang from a group of at least four people as long as they can't perceive his Tell.

Hiding in plain sight Fang strides through the crowd in the old woman's form, the cloth fluttering free of the wicked curved blade. The old woman walks back bolt upright, any hint of age or infirmity gone, the sword swinging jauntily in one hand. With the old woman's free hand, Fang reaches up and plucks a long hair from a wart on her chin. A whisper of essence animates the hair, causing it to stiffen, then lengthen and thicken until Fang holds a thick black dart about a foot long.

1m personal on Needle Quill Technique.

Almost lazily, twirling the dart between the old woman's fingers, he presses his way through the crowd to the thronged door and peers in to the crowd, spotting his prey. Focusing his gaze with a predator's unblinking monofocus, Fang readies himself to strike.

Join Battle! Stunting for Perception to be added to my dice cap. 8m personal on the Dexterity Excellency.

7 Initiative.

Fang tightens his grip on the dart. Now. The old woman's brittle twigs of arms ripple and bulge unnaturally as dessicated muscles thicken and cord for power. In a fluid motion, Fang flicks the dart through the crowd towards Opal Charina, all unawares.

rolling to attack! Stunting to add Strength to my dice cap. 4m personal on the Dex excellency, emptying my personal pool.3 successes to hit. The attack is Decisive. 7 dice of damage. 2 successes means 2 Lethal damage and spending 2m peripheral on Stinging Ichneumon Surge!

The dart thuds home deep between collarbone and breast. There's a brief moment where she looks down at the red stain spreading out from the dart embedded in her chest, in confusion. Then terror spreads as, sickeningly, the black dart wiggles and twists in the wound, like a fat leech. It begins to burrow in slowly, agonisingly...

As long as the dart is embedded, Opal's Onslaught penalty won't go away; it'll stay at -1 minimum until removed or the end of combat. She or an ally can make a difficulty 2 Gambit to knock it out.

Fang's body is suddenly limned in silver light, the argent disc of his caste spreading on his brow. The old woman stands proud, sword in hand and silver tattoos wrapped around her body.

"Hello, friends."

Fang blows 10m peripheral and 1wp to trigger his anima power; having landed a Decisive attack that resets his Initiative he rolls Join Battle with his highest physical attribute added as non-charm dice (only useable once per day). 6 successes! Fang's up on 9 Initiative. His personal pool is empty and he's 12m in to his peripheral. Anima is Glowing.
 
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Burning Hive Multitude

Hive is halfway to the door before they realise that they never explicitly told Honda to wait for Fang. They turn to see Honda bent double, hands in his burlap sack. Hive's eyes widen as they turn back towards the door. They drop their shoulder, barging a path through the soon to be panicked crowd, essence roiling down their limbs.
Hive's jaw splits and elongates, their teeth forming cruel barbs down the inside, dripping with venom. Their pupils widen until their eyes are mirror black hemispheres, taking up far more than their natural share of Hive's face. Hive's charge takes on a skittering cast as their limbs lengthen, extra joints appearing as their contorting body drops down between them. By the time Hive erupts from the front of the teahouse their thorax is constricted, the bulk around their shoulders having shifted, swelling their abdomen and head.
They cast their gaze across the crowd, head jerking this way and that, seeking their quarry.

Joining Battle, stunting to add Strength to dice cap, activating Hybrid Body and DBT for 5m Peripheral and 1wp
 
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Ursae-ul

Ursae sits through the old woman's initial declaration but springs back when she leaps into the middle of the room and erupts as massive boar. He sighs internally, "my tea... well, at least, this explains my anima..." He surveys the impending carnage and sees a second fellow blessed of Luna heading for the door. With a little dash and a jerk of the head, he lets his hat fall away in the hopes that revealing his ears will be seen as a sign of goodwill. He follows after the now clearly hunting fellow. Now is not the time for subtlety, and as for what's going on, that will likely reveal itself soon.
 
The Tradehall

Opal Charinha screams, but the sound is strangled and hoarse, her chest seemingly crippled by the cruel dart skewering her. She stumbles and would fall, but for Shadren Chall, whose left hand seizes her collar and holds her upright. An unornamented yet razor sharp shortsword appears as if by some conjurer's trick in his right hand, and he bellows to the guard.

Four Guild mercenaries plough through the chaos and get in formation around Chall and Charinha, curved swords and leather reinforced shields forming a wall around their contract. Behind the counter at the end of the tradehall, the woman there ducks for cover and seconds later a bell can be heard, ringing awkwardly and irregularly, but loud enough.


The shit has absolutely hit the fan.

Initiative Counts As Of Round Two:
2 Guards - 4
2 Guards - - 3
Charinha - -7
Chall - Dead
Lucky Honda - 3
Lucky Fang - 25
Multitude - 19
 
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Lucky Honda

Wooden chips hang in the air like snowflakes as a three meter tall amalgamation of man and incredibly ornery boar crashes through the teahouse wall after Fang. Wisps of silver light rise from his tattoos, eyes burning with the light of a full moon as he skids into position in front of his partner's increasingly hilarious form.
"YOU GUILD FUCKS THREATENIN' AN OLD LADY?!"
Honda plants both hooves in the ground and reaches forward, muscle-corded arms impossibly extending across the tradehall. The Boarman grunts with exertion as wicked tusks burst from his ankles, anchoring him in the ground. Colossal, moonsilver-clad fists fly over the the heads of the the mercs and wrap themselves around Shadren Chall's torso, before snapping back like stretched elastic. Shadren Chall is dragged, trying to scream around crushed ribs,through the air before Honda pirouettes with surprising grace, whipping his quarry around and firing him back in the direction he came.
"REAL MEN TAKE CARE OF THEIR NANAS!"
It's unclear whether the physical shock of being grabbed and thrown or the impact againsthis own guards' shields is what kills Shadren Chall, but it's abundantly clear that the man is incredibly, unquestionably dead. The guards scatter in a shower of their employer's blood and bone fragments, leaving Opal Charinha defenceless. Honda snorts as he surveys the destruction he's wrought.
"BET YOU WISHED YOU HELD OUT FOR DANGER MONEY."

OH BOY HERE WE GO.
SPending 3 motes and one initiative to activate Kraken-Arm-Lash. Rolling to attack with Strength, Brawl, full Strength excellency and specialty,16 dice.
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8 successes. Rolling initiative, boosted by Grizzly Bear's Embrace. 2 motes
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Success, rolling for control.
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Chump is now successfully grappled. Making a decisive attack (Strength+Brawl+Specialty) to throw him.
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Chump is successfully thrown. Spending three motes on World Shaking Slam to push whatever he impacts, in this case his guards. Rolling damage, boosted by sacrificing four rounds of control.
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7 damage, guards successfully pushed. 10 motes spent, initiative reduced to three.
 
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Shadren Chall's dream of filthy sacks of silver comes to an end halfway through the splintered wreck of a mercenary's shield, his ribcage caved in and punctured. Charinha collapses to the ground as the guards are knocked sprawling, slammed breathlessly against the tradehall counter and knocked into the far wall.

How terrifying it must be, to be wounded and alone in the face of such a monster.

Next up is Multitude and the guards, all acting on count 4!
 
Burning Hive Multitude

Hive clatters their mandibles as Honda scatters the Guild bondsmen, isolating their target. They skitter forward, people recoiling from their visage, even panicked as they are. As Hive closes on Opal they accentuate their scurrying movement, stopping and starting, jinking to the sides unpredictably. They circle her, driving her away from the guards with a flurry of blows. Spectral chains form around Hive's torso, before bursting and forming spectral limbs behind them, mirroring their attacks.

Making a Withering attack against Opal, stunting to add Manipulation to my cap

Attack pool 24: Strength 5, MA4, Accuracy 4, Strength Excellency with Manipulation added for 9 more dice, and a one point Stunt for 2 dice


11 threshold successes on her Defense

Damage pool 28: Strength 5, Light Weapon Damage 7, Threshold successes 11, Srength Excellency 5


9 initiative damage

Pools at 14/16, Initiative at 19
 
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Opal Charinha, for a heartbeat only, makes a heroic effort to stand and struggle free. Her effort is entirely wasted, and within seconds she is once again sprawled on the smooth, intricate wooden parquet floor of the tradehall, now sadly spattered with gore. Multitude's savage strikes have driven her completely off balance, her forearms bleeding from several wounds, her pale cotton robes in rags.

The other mortal humans in the tradehall are now in full flight, attempting to escape through windows and behind the far counter. That bell is still ringing. The remaining guards get back to their feet and cluster together, shields held up...but their employer is dead, and they're not in the mood to tangle with these monsters.

Round Two, Multitude up first at Init 19!
 
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Burning Hive Multitude

Top of the round, gain 5 Essence

Hive lunges forward, snapping Charinha's wrists together in one of their hands, the spindly limb's iron grip revealing terrible strength as they drag her towards Hive's embrace.

Making a Decisive Grapple Gambit, Difficulty 2, against Opal's Defence of 2
Attack pool 12: 5 Strength, 4 MA, 3 motes on Str Excellency



Missed Decisive attack, Hive loses 3 Initiative, leaving them at 16

Somehow Charinha's panicked flailing fouls Hive's grip and she slips free as they begin to reel her in. Hive clack their jaws in irritation as they recover, lunging towards the reeling mortal once again.
 
Charinha's escape is not a matter of skill or grace, more of desperation, sweat and blood. As she scrabbles backwards across the floor, she gabbles up to Multitude, the words nearly jamming in her mouth, out of her control.

"What do you, how do, what do you want, I can give you , I can pay you many things, I shall have prayers said for you, I can, jade, blood, I can---"

Lucky Fang is up next.