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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Lucky Fang

5m back at the top of the turn

Satisfied Honda and Hive have the main target under control, Fang turns his attention toward the guards. They might run or fight given the opportunity, and Fang was in no mood to give it to them.

The Lunar moves his stolen old woman's body sinuously, streaking through the carnage at a low run. His blade held in reverse grip, Fang seems to twist and dance between panicked, fleeing onlookers and obstacles with ease. His path is difficult for the eye to follow; he is upon the guards almost before they can react. He leaps suddenly from the confusion, silver tattoos gleaming, aiming a corkscrewing blow at the nearest guard.

Withering attack against the nearest guard. Fang is stunting the attack with the intent of adding Manipulation to his excellency cap for the strike.
Withering attack into the first guard, Manipulation added to the dice cap and a 2-point stunt so 2 extra dice and 1-autosux out of the gate! Pumping the Dexterity Excellency for another 7 and adding 1 for my Swords speciality in Melee. That's 19 dice to hit.

11 successes on the attack; 12 including the stunt. Parry is 4.

Strength 4+9 weapon damage+8 threshold succeses+6 dice from the Strength excellency as I pump another 6 peripheral into that. Soak is 8, post-soak withering damage is 19 dice.


7 Withering Damage! Fang's initiative goes up by 8, and the guard's initiative drops to -3. Fang gains another 5 Initiative for crashing him, pumping his initiative from 9 to 22.


The guard is good - he manages to get his sword in the way just enough to stop the scimitar slicing him completely in half. He's knocked back a full foot by the force of the blow as the old woman's muscles bulge and cord at the moment of impact before settling back down, barely maintaining his footing. The old woman's body is a bonfire of cold silver moonlight, abstract patterns of coiling snakescale reaching up blaring out the windows and the open door.

12 motes left in my peripheral pool and my personal pool is tapped. Fang's anima is iconic.

She treats the terrified guards to a wicked smile as she reverses the grip on his sword, dropping into a low defensive stance and swaying sinuously like a cobra hypnotising prey. Essence sings through the body Fang wears like the kiss of the moon and he is ready for any strike to come at a moment's notice. When the blades come the Lunar twists and bends in place, feet firmly planted and almost gimballed at the knee, swordblade whipping impossibly fast to stop any blade seeking the old woman's stolen flesh.

Three attacks coming Fang's way. His base Parry is 5. I activate Agile Beast Defense once against each attack at 1m each (3m total). That's +1 Defense against each incoming attack as since they are at lower initiative than me. I'll gain one Initiative per attack I defend against successfully. Also activating Bending Before the Storm against each attack at 2m each (6m total), which negates Defense penalties when defending against enemies at lower Initiative. Effectively for 9m I have Parry 6 (+ any parry bonus from stunting) against all 3 attacks and won't suffer any Onslaught or other defense penalties. +1 stunt so Parry is 7.

3m left.
 
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The three other guards seem, if anything, hardened and encouraged by the survival of their companion. They split and move as one, with a lanky man moving to Fang's left simultaneously to the muscular woman moving to flank on his right, and the one remaining unengaged soldier coming from behind his companion on the back foot. Three curved blades slice the air and lash towards what appears to be an old woman, savagely possessed by some dread ophidian Anathema spirit!


...to absolutely no avail. Their swords are slashed aside and deflected, with one single scimitar dancing and striking like a warding cobra, holding its ground against rodents.

https://rolz.org/embed?X42360623
https://rolz.org/embed?X42360625
https://rolz.org/embed?X42360631


Up next: Biggest Piggest
 
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Lucky Honda

It's hard not to feel nostalgic, watching the kid's first Sacred Hunt. Still, it's a very intimate moment and it'd be weird to watch too long, so Honda turns his attention to his best friend. Oh, how Lucky Honda laughs as he swaggers over, shoulders cracking as he rolls them back into place. Deep, heaving, grunting belly laughs at the poor fucking chumps who thought they had an easy fight against an old biddy. There's no need to hurry, Honda is the toughest, nastiest motherfucker in this town and he'll crush these fools when he's good and fucking ready.

The overarm smash is heralded by a guttural, sadistic chuckle. No attempts at subtlety, no fucks given if the prey attempts to evade, nothing but raw brutality as the tusk-clad monstrosity brings collossal, moonsilver-clad fists down like a hammer. To his credit, the guard brings his shield up in time. Well trained, those Guild mercs. It's a damn shame that their opponent is not only also a trained Guild merc, but also Chosen of the moon. The guard's quick defence saves his life, but the force of Honda's two handed hammer blow crashes him to his knees as force ripples through as shield and through his very bones.
Tattoos glowing, wreathed in in a column of silver, Honda crouches and looks the fallen guard in the eye as a Hellboar cast in rippling cords of silver light rears above him.
"SORRY BUD, BUT YOU SIGNED THE CONTRACT."

Making a withering attack against the nearest guard. Stunting to add Stamina to strength excellency. Rolling 21 dice to hit, because EXALTED.
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10 successes. Chump's parry is 4, so 6 threshold successes.
6+5 Strength +10 weapon damage is 21.
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7 successes, plus one from hitting with withering and 5 from crashing him. 13 Initiative gained, seven lost for the poor guard. Anima is at bonfire.
 
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The tall guard finds that a shield of leather is paltry defence against a hammer of moonsilver, muscle, and bone. The titanic impact near drives him to his knees, his sword hitting the ground, and his face contorted in agonised effort merely to keep his arm raised. This is the face of a man seeing his life stretch out before him, measured in seconds.


And, we've wrapped right back around to Fang, on a beastly 25 Initiative
 
Lucky Fang

5 motes peripheral back at the top of the turn.

Fang keeps cold, emotionless eye contact with the guard he just drove back. Just for a moment. Then he flicker-blurs past him towards one of the guards who has not yet been engaged; gods the old woman moves fast, too fast for the eye to track...

Fang throws his sword at the guard, who flinches in horror, but the point bites deep into the wooden floor between his new target's feet. The guard's eyes flicker down for a second to track the motion and when he looks up the old woman is gone; leaping through the air like a silver comet is Fang unveiled and monstrous, a snake-man hybrid with scales glimmering in the reflected light of his own anima. He pounces like a coiled viper, clawed hands outstretched to grasp his prey, dagger-long fangs dripping venom...

Fang is going to grapple one of the uninjured, not-crashed guards and activate Quicksilver Second Face to reflexively enter his hybrid form. Mote costs and rolls to come, waiting on stunt adjudication.

3 points! Not spending any essence on the attack but spending 4m and 2i to shapeshift reflexively with Quicksilver Second Face into Fang's Hybrid form. 2 dice and 2 successes added for the stunt and a temporary point of willpower gained.



10 successes! Spending 3i to grapple - rolling 20 dice on the initiative roll for the gambit.



7 successes on the initiative roll for the gambit! Time to make a contested strength+brawl roll to establish control. At this point Fang is going to spend his last 3 motes on the Strength Excellency. Spending my bonus point of willpower from my stunt for an automatic success.


3 successes on my control roll!
 
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The guard responds just too late to avoid being seized in the dread hands of the serpentine horror upon him. Perhaps he should have feared the blade less?

He frantically struggles and drops his own weapons, defaulting to the muscle memory of close combat, and he's good. He's trained. He's...used to human opponents. His arm flashes up and coils around Fang's wrist in the beginning to a neatly executed counter, which could have led into an arm bar in return, were it not for the inhuman fluidity of movement of the hybrid combat form. He nearly succeeds in throwing off the grapple.

Hah. Nearly.

2 successes.
 
Lucky Fang

Fang's arm bends out of the lock as though the bone were made of green saplings, shifting his feet and seeming to slither around the guard until he's standing behind him. He wrenches one arm back and Up in a way thay guarantees the guard can't move without shattering the joint and grabs the man under the chin with the other hand, wrenching the head back and to the side. Vampire-like, the Lunar sinks his fangs in between neck and collarbone, punching through armour like it was paper.



Fang had intended to envenom the bite but even as the teeth sunk home he knew there was no need; he feels the fang meeting and puncturing through the tough, elasticated wall of an artery somewhere deep inside the guard like the snap of a rubber band against the point of his tooth. He leaves the bite dry, the fangs sliding free of the man as soon as they're in. Blood trickles out of the two small, deep puncture marks, deceptively little given how badly he's bleeding internally. As the guard bleeds out internally Fang releases him to slump to his knees in a daze; heedless of the dying man he pulls the sword free of the floor and turns towards the survivors, wiping a trickle of blood from his lipless mouth. His tongue flickers out, tasting the air.

Unless our boy can withstand 8 lethal he's Incapacitated and dying. Fang resets to 3 initiative.
 
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Lucky Honda

You know, if this guy wasn't a Guild scumbag Honda would be damn impressed. Might even lay off and buy the tough sonuvabitch a beer. Sure looks like he needs it. Shame really, dumb bastard went and signed his life away and here he is now, about to get crushed to death by a monster out of his worst nightmares. Damn shame.
Lucky Honda is not a man to let ethics and morality slow him down too much, but he still has a code. If someone's tough enough survive the first slap, you owe the respect of looking them in the eye when you kill them. Baleful silver orbs shine into the guard's eyes, two full moons shining from the depths of brutal face, as the gleaming fists raise high and come crashing down like a landslide.

Rolling Strength+Brawl+Specialty+Excellency - 16 dice
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6 successes, our boy's defence is 4. That's gonna hurt.
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Fuck this game. One success, on health of level of damage dealt. Spending 10 motes and 1 willpower to activate the Full Moon anima power and roll join battle with Strength (5) bonus dice. Spending 3 motes on wits excellency.
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6, so initiative resets to 9
Infuriatingly, the shield saves the guard's life a second time. The curved surface redirects Honda's crude blow, a brutal slam that should have flattened the merc's skull instead leaving a foot deep dent in the floor. The guard isn't unharmed, taking a blow of that force is gonna do permanent damage, but he's significantly less dead than expected. Infuriated, Honda huffs deep of his furious Essence, Luna's wrath filling him and burning across his bare chest. No-one goes to round fucking three. He rises, standing straight and spreading tree trunk arms wide
"ALRIGHT BUDDY. YOU GET ONE FREE FUCKIN' SHOT."
 
Fang -
The guard's struggles cease almost immediately. His blood is rich, and the thump of his body hitting the dark wood floor is almost an afterthought. Several victims remain standing. Mmmm.


Honda -
The tall guard falls back, his actions lost somewhere between desperation and grace. You feels something crunch when he raises his shield, not to block but to deflect. His left arm. Guess he better have something going for him with his right. You know, the same right hand which grabs for the hilt of the sword he dropped, holding it reversed, no time to flip the blade right way up. Well.



Multitude -
is up!
 
Burning Hive Multitude

Hive's roiling shadow eclipses Opal, as they implacably reach down once more, chitinous hands reaching for the flailing mortal's wrists, as her backwards scramble is arrested by the very table she was sitting at, mere moments ago.

Going to be making a Grapple Gambit, awaiting Stunt adjudication
Dice pool of 15: Str 5, MA 4, Stunt 2, Excellency 4

Reflexively enter Centipede Form for hitting a target with an Onslaught of -2
Control Roll of 14: Strength 5, MA 4, Excellency 5

Reroll 1s due to Centipede


The chains tattooed around Hive's torso ignite with an argent gleam, before shattering into countless tiny bodies whirling around them. As Hive casually bats Opals hands away, a snapping movement faster than should be possible, their banner coalesces into traceries of ant legs, marking where their arm is, where it will be, could be. One of the one time slave owner's hands flops uselessly, the wrist broken, as Hive tangles a claw like hand into the disarray of her hair, lifting her off the floor one handed. They raise her to eye level, meeting her eyes for a moment, before dashing Opal's head against the edge of the upturned table.

Making a Slam Decisive attack against Opal.
Pool of 15: Initiative 13, forfeiting 2 rounds of Control. Centipede doubles 10s

6L health levels of damage

Opal's head makes a sickening crunch as her temple meets the table with the force of a demigod's wrath. Her head bounces off the rim making a much wetter noise as it comes to rest on the floor of the trade hall, the side of her head flat, the bulging sclera of her eye stained red.
 
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Opal Charinha's life ends in an ugly fashion. Her body slumps in Hive's grip, the last breath rattling from her lungs, the air driven not by a living diaphragm but by the last indignity of rough handling. Her broken necklace sheds its beads, and they decorate the floor instead of her slender neck. She's just meat now, and a Lunar knows what to do with meat.

By the other end of the hall, where two silver monsters buy Hive the time for his hunt, the guards stare back over and realise that there's no point in continuing to fight here. Before the others can act, though, the tall man who has so annoyed Honda breathes deep and lunges forward into death. He does not even rise fully from the ground, spinning at waist level, bringing his sword around for a backslash in his single handed reverse grip, the blade tucked and then lashing out like an extension of his arm.

https://rolz.org/embed?X42569088

5 successes to hit on that.

Even with the razor edge of that weapon, oiled and maintained, there is only so much that mortal muscle can achieve against inhuman might. The blade whips across Honda's belly, but what would have been a disembowelling strike against a mortal opponent merely leaves a red line on the hide of the war boar. Too much bristle, too much muscle and fat and rage.

https://rolz.org/embed?X42579694

Honda loses one Initiative, guard gains 2 Initiative.

However...something's not right. The air grows warm, and into the terrifying silver glare of death there is added the faintest golden note. For a moment, everyone in the room can hear the sigh and intake of the tall guard's breath, as he moves in perfect balance and completes his movement, turning a knee level spin into an upward spiral. The room's Essence grows thick, and the guard lunges from the east, always and eternally from the eastern horizon. His dark clothes are suddenly pale and bleached, and on his brow is the promise of Dawn.

Everyone gain an instant ten motes.


Fang's action now.
 
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Lucky Honda

So grossly incandescent….

Eyes meet, and the devastated trade hall is lost in a whirl of ancient memories. Fighting back to back amidst a horde of faceless horrors, flashing arcs of gold and silver searing through the abominations. Laughing together atop the corpse of a fallen titan. Soaring over the Wyld in a chariot of shining gold. A blood-drenched last stand against a thousand treacherous dragons. Countless names, shapes, faces lost to the ages flow together, illuminated by a spark of the dawn's own light. For a brief moment everything under the sun is in tune.

But The Sun Is Eclipsed By The Moon.
"THAT'S YOUR FREE SHOT. YOU READY TO COME WITH US OR DO I GOTTA KNOCK YA OUT AND DRAG YA?"
 
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Fang

"Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck." Fang assesses the threat. He's never met a Solar before but he knows the marks and signs, and Ma-Ha-Suchi made it clear that those with the Dawn on the brow are always a threat not to underestimated. Furthermore, he has spent a large part of his power on this grandstanding bit of shock and awe mummery on Hive's behalf; fresh and ready he would like his odds but half-spent and standing against a Solar drunk on Exaltation and in the headiest throes of Essence Fever sounded a considerably dicier proposition. He also can't leave a new Anathema exposed to the Realm, even if they're not one of Luna's children. He sheathes his sword and holds his hands up for a moment, in a gesture of peace.

"Nothing personal friend, just business. We are leaving Right Now and I suggest you do the same." He gestures at Honda. "Come with us if you wanna live."

With that Fang draws his anima in on himself, the light dimming from blazing bonfire to a burning halo around his body. It seems to thicken and coalesce around his features until he's completely cloaked in swirling silvery light. As he does, he releases a spiritual breath he'd half forgotten he was holding and shrinks back to his own true human form, though none can see it. "Right, I'm fucking off!" the silver shrouded demigod incongruously announces before heading for the door.

Reflexively releasing my 4m Shapeshifting commitment and resuming my true form while simultaneously reflexively activating Shifting Penumbra Stance for 5m and 1 anima level to disguise his features, and taking a Disengage action. Holding off on the disguise and Disengage rolls until stunt adjudication.
 
The Aftermath Of Just A Little Carnage
The remaining guards, all two of them, charge out the back of the hall in a real hurry. Those listening can hear some kind of clash as they do (and anyone who wishes may make a Perception + Awareness roll), but you're left in the hall with the broken bodies of Chall, one guard, and the still just barely beating heart of Opal Charinha.

Oh, and also a problem incarnate in one guard who found the moment to display just the wrong amount of courage and skill.

The newborn Solar inhales, and the intricate wooden tilework finds its pattern ruined with a sunburst in pale gold, worn into the floor on the spot he stands. The tip of his sword leaves a gentle arc carved into the floor, and he looks up to the tusked warmask of Honda's face.

"I...I am Shadowed Pearl. You killed me once. I think I loved you for it."



Over at Hive, Charinha's chest cavity is a buffet.


@Delling
Where is Ursae-ul? If he's in town, the tradehall just emptied of people, screams, carnage, bright lights, madness. Someone is having a helluva bad time.
 
Lucky Honda

A fucking sunburst on the ground? Honestly? Boss had said the Solars were drama queens, but this is just pulling the piss. Honda reaches a hand out, unsure himself if it's in friendship or hostility, and attempts to introduce himself, but neither the soft words nor gentle voice that spill from his meaty lips are his own.

"It broke my heart to throw the dart, but better a quick end by a loving hand than the brutal end the betrayers had in store, my love."

FUCKING WHAT?!
For a brief moment the hulking warrior is frozen in place, eyes locked with Shadowed Pearl, before he lunges out and grabs the Dawn Caste's forearm, yanking him along.

"I'M LUCKY FUCKIN' HONDA, AND IF YA DON'T WANT ME TO KILL YA A SECOND TIME GIT MOVIN', YER ANATHEMA NOW."
 
Burning Hive Multitude

Hive plunges their claw like hand through Opal's sternum, hooking their fingers around the great vessels, before tearing the sanguine vessel from its moorings. They draw it up between their mandibles, turning towards his fellow exalts as they squeeze the crimson liquid down their gullet. Hive dashes across the now empty trade hall, mesmerised by the intertwining anima of Honda and Pearl, as their flesh roils, warping from the twisted monstrosity of their war form.

Opal lays a gentle hand on Honda's brutish fist, where it grips the Solar's forearm. "Honda, we need to leave. Become more subtle." She turns her blood soaked visage towards Shadowed Pearl, her Half Moon mark blazing on her forehead. "Come with us, if you want to live. We have a safe place where you two can... talk."

Activating Argent Songbird Voice for 2m, allowing me to buy successes for 2m, The Changing Moon anima power for 3m 1wp, preventing him from using negative ties towards me or Opal to raise his resolve or in a Decision Point, and spending 2m on a success, and a further 4 on dice.
Dice Pool of 14: 4 Char, 4 Presence, 4 Excellency dice, 2 Stunt dice. Automatic Successes 2: Stunt 1, Excellency 1

Total Successes: 3, WP refunded from Stunt, Pools at 3/16
 
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Pearl winces, drops the sword from his good hand, and catches it, sheathes it with his injured left.

"As of right this moment, I have nowhere to go and am strangely pleased by that. In place of a plan, I have resignation."

He falls in behind Honda, but mutters "The rest of the guard will be here momentarily, they should have arrived already."


The building is deserted, save for a handful of corpses.

Plan, gentlemen?
 
Lucky Honda

"MAYBE THEY'RE TOO SMART TO PICK A FIGHT THEY CAN'T WIN. CAN YOU RIDE?"

Honda stretches, cracking out his spine and shoulders as moonlight flows through him. He falls forward, muscle and bone rearranging themselves with slippery grinding noises, and lands on heavy hooves. Within seconds the hulking amalgam of man and beast has been reshaped into a thickly muscled hellboar adorned with flowing moonsilver tattoos. He crouches slightly, just enough for the other two to climb up.
 
You feel the tug as Pearl seizes bristly fur in his calloused hands and hauls himself up onto the hump of muscle behind your neck.

"...feels queerly disrespectful, but who am I to say..." comes the mutter.
 
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