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[IC Exalted]: Diamond in the Rough.
Anthrax! Please.
Registered User regular
Registered User regular
The Unconquered Sun is many things. In this age he is little known as the four-armed slayer of beasts, ruler of the Gods themselves. Instead, this age, he is but the bringer of light. This day, like all days, the Lord of the Dawn travels across the sky, casting warmth onto the bleak sands of the South. They rise to a bake, to a boil, to a raging inferno, only to subside as the great, long-dead volcano draws shade over the sands that surround Gem. The Sun sinks drunkenly beneath the horizon.
Somewhere, the first shadow yawns into existence. Somewhere in the south, more trade caravans are hijacked. Somewhere in Gem, another Dragonblood is found dead in the streets, seemingly scorched into nothing but paste, identifiable only by the jade he once wore. Somewhere in a great chamber, Arbani Melkhan weighs a firewand for its balance, sighting down the barrel and nodding his approval. Somewhere Rankar the Seventh, Hereditary Despot of Gem, looks through a melon-sized-gem and grins at his orange-haired companion.
Everywhere in Gem, as the sun sets, people begin to crawl out of their homes onto the baked streets, and up the vertical layers of the greatest city carved into the side of a dead volcano.
Somewhere beneath Gem, a great beast stirs, spewing forth its minions.
Somewhere in Gem, things begin to change.
Somewhere, the first shadow yawns into existence. Somewhere in the south, more trade caravans are hijacked. Somewhere in Gem, another Dragonblood is found dead in the streets, seemingly scorched into nothing but paste, identifiable only by the jade he once wore. Somewhere in a great chamber, Arbani Melkhan weighs a firewand for its balance, sighting down the barrel and nodding his approval. Somewhere Rankar the Seventh, Hereditary Despot of Gem, looks through a melon-sized-gem and grins at his orange-haired companion.
Everywhere in Gem, as the sun sets, people begin to crawl out of their homes onto the baked streets, and up the vertical layers of the greatest city carved into the side of a dead volcano.
Somewhere beneath Gem, a great beast stirs, spewing forth its minions.
Somewhere in Gem, things begin to change.
Sorry this is kind of mediocre, but it's here to get people started. The following players have my approval to post because I've remember their names right now and I remember their characters enough to let them go:
Thanatos (Harmonius Swan)
KrataLightblade (Broken Gold)
Lonelyahava (Chandra Ishra)
Reynolds (Dang Man Wang [seriously this name makes me sad])
Those not mentioned is only because I fear you may not understand setting or, like Coyote, you, you know, don't have a character. What I mean is that I'll post some about Gem if you don't know about it. PMs in the morn when I am coherent.
Grammar and spelling in the morn. Go ahead and get yourselves into some trouble.
Thanatos (Harmonius Swan)
KrataLightblade (Broken Gold)
Lonelyahava (Chandra Ishra)
Reynolds (Dang Man Wang [seriously this name makes me sad])
Those not mentioned is only because I fear you may not understand setting or, like Coyote, you, you know, don't have a character. What I mean is that I'll post some about Gem if you don't know about it. PMs in the morn when I am coherent.
Grammar and spelling in the morn. Go ahead and get yourselves into some trouble.
Anthrax! Please. on
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Walking around the line of carts, she began making a beeline for the merchant district, attempting to avoid the fruitsellers, meatmongers, and trinket peddler's incessantly approaching her with their wares. Knowing it will do little good, she nonetheless pulls her cloak's hood up over her head, easily pushing past most of the crowd, as they see her and hastily get out of her way, a brief smile of thanks enough to make the rest of their day seem a little easier. Finally, finding a mid-range tavern which looks like a frequent stop for merchants and low-level Realm officials, she steps inside. Approaching the bar, she lowers her hood, and briefly raises her hand, as the tavernkeeper interrupts the conversation he was having with another customer to approach her. "What can I get for you, miss?" he asks, subconsciously brushing the crumbs off of the front of his apron. Flashing him a smile, Swan responds "well, I was hoping for a bit of work. I assure you, sir, I'm quite the accomplished singer; it will be well worth your while."
"Ah, yes...we've made our way through many a beleaguered hamlet, and done our best to spread the message. But now, we've finally made our way to the heart of the problem!" His voice began to raise, along with his arms, as he launched into a diatribe that seems second nature...either through repeated usage, or a long voyage spent mulling it over.
"This shining city was built through suffering...a shrine to decadence and excess, resting atop the backs of mistreated and oppressed peoples! But the light of Heaven has begun to shine upon it this day...and we shall illuminate all misdeeds hidden in the shadows of corruption and greed!" Although, with the sun setting, casting shadows across the area, his message might seem a bit mixed.
The golden figure draws in breath, pausing a moment to see just how his audience is reacting. This is his first big city, after all. It's been easy to preach destruction of the upper class to the lowest class.
Tall, he was, six feet and more. Armored he was, clad in the golden breastplate that shined with the last rays of the setting sun. Armed, he was, with a massive axe that he held easily in one hand, guesturing forward to his men. Emboldened, he was, by the last glances of the sun against him, and the sight of the city ahead.
Gem ahead of them. Churiscuro and the rest behind them. And somewhere, somewhere out in that desert, the place he and his sister had been dreaming about. Somewhere out in that desert, their destiny lay in wait.
His voice carried forth to his men who followed, twenty in all.
"Finally, men, we have arrived at a real city again. Look ahead, and know that even though we are far from where we began, home is always beneath our feet."
He flashed his teeth in a grin that his men, behind him, did not see, and spoke to she who strode beside him in a much lower tone, one that only she would hear.
"And you, Chandra. The Gem of the South, we were told, and now we're here. How do you feel, now that we walk into one of the South's famous volcanoes?"
Volcanoes. He'd heard about them, read about them. To actually see them, though, that was a treat. So far from home, and yet, he cared so little to return, now that he knew the truth. The Immaculates had always been wrong, and somehow, he'd always felt it. And now, he not only felt it, he was a living testament to their lies.
And here before them, lay the next moments of their fate.
Seranocis, now also known as "Broken Gold", couldn't wait.
One hundred he had brought to find her all those years ago. Only twenty remained.
Turning her eyes back to Seran for a moment and then searched the sky. The sun was setting, but the moon was rising, and something about that fact made Chandra's golden eyes glitter a bit more, a grin appearing on her face.
Yes, the Immaculate had been wrong, and she and Seran were evidence of such a fact.
"It is a marvel, Brother. A true marvel."
She did not have to tell him that the civilization made her a bit cramped as they walked along the sand-choked streets, her pale blue kimono, of the lightest material possible, kicking up a small cloud behind her as they walked. A fan in one of her hands blew cool air over her dark mahogany face, the white hair floating backwards over her shoulders as she looked around.
It truly was a marvel of a city, built into a dead volcano. And somewhere out in that desert beyond was their destiny. Or perhaps their past. But something.... something.
Chandra looked to her right then, and spied the Golden Man and his followers. His words fell on her ears, but they seemed to flow straight over her mind as she turned away from him and smiled back to her brother.
"So, what do we do now, Brother?"
Democrats Abroad! || Vote From Abroad
The bartender digs a finger under the collar of his shirt, acting like the room is a good deal warmer than it is. Most of the room is staring at the lovely robed visage of Swan, in fact. The bartender takes a long blink and shakes his head, pulling his mind out from wherever it might have been. Experience suggests to Swan that it was probably the gutter.
"If you're looking for work as an entertainer, I'd suggest the Sandstorm Circuit. It's a ball that Rankar the VII holds once a season. They're always looking for good entertainment there, and it's only three days away," he says. He aims to spit into the bucket next to him but thinks better of himself due to the company, "I think you'd probably catch the eye of one of his scouts if you went and applied, even if you couldn't sing a note. Sorry if I speak too boldly."
Someone coughs, drawing attention to the silence of everyone in the room. Most of the men have managed enough restraint not to drool, and the few women in here have clear-painted jealously on their faces, even as they try to hide it.
Reynolds:
Brilliance and gold, even dulled, are rare here on the sandy streets. It seems that many are drawn to Zi's potent, bold speech. None of them dare look excited at the prospect of change. It seems apparent that those who live well live in the walls of the city, having access to the dark, cool ducts that cross the inside of the mountain. A guard comes up, with an impressive chain looped around his waist, and says, "Hey, you stirring up trouble? You know that fomenting rebellion is a serious crime here? If you're found guilty minimum sentence is a fine, max is life in the gladiator pits! Don't rock the boat." When everyone except the wordly look confused at his analogy, he says, "Don't churn the anthill!". He looks flustered by the idiocy of these people, many of whom don't understand the concept of boats as most know them, having seen only sand.
LonelyLightblade:
The men nod and grin at Broken Gold. Even knowing that though his quest to find Chandra had been mad, he had succeeded. They knew that if he put his mind to something, he would get it done. They lived because of his fortitude. They were with him all the way. Nonetheless they looked tired. Their smiles couldn't hide the weariness that Chandra and Broken Gold didn't seem to feel, their Exalted bodies capable of tremendous strain.
The two and twenty watch from a distance a wild preacher, clothed in gold, get confronted by a guard who was seemingly small and fragile in comparison to this tornado of a man, whirling words and stirring up people the way a whirlwind picks up paper. It was easy to see he'd be a great man. Or a great deal of trouble.
Planeswalker
Will of the Council - Starting with you, each player votes for death goblin.
"I seek not rebellion. No, violence is the last resort of those who truly desire lasting change, and the first line of defense for those who would rather keep the faithful under their foot." He gestured around the crowd with his staff, still trying to keep the guard under his arm. "These are good people...I'm sure they will cause you no problems, sir. We do not seek to make your job any harder."
That grin returned. "Besides, I have no money with which to pay any fine. And a pacifist would not put on much of a show for your games. Why don't you simply listen to my message, sir? I'm sure a man of your intelligence and standing would easily understand what I have to say." He gave the guard a looking over, with a quick glance to examine that chain. One designating his position, perhaps, or just to show his wealth?
He spoke to his sister once more, a faint bit of concern in his voice.
"Seems to be trouble. I wonder what he's done."
He glanced at her.
"Perhaps we should introduce ourselves to the good guardsman, hmm?"
He chuckled a bit, and angled the group towards the guardsman and the friendly priest, though it was some distance away. He took no particular action to appear threatening, though truthfully it would be hard to be unthreatening with that massive sungold axe and a cadre of armed soldiers behind him.
The...Memory... was out there, somewhere. There was no better way to describe what had pulled her and Seran farther South once reunited. A Memory, and a shared one at that. There was a pull to head in that direction. But, this was a good place to rest.
For now.
She smiled at the men around them. Each of them had been acquaintances, friends, since before she began her journey South, and each of them had followed her brother to find her, against all odds. And the journey since being reunited had been hard on them, they were hot, and tired, and most likely thirsty. Chandra herself was fine, after months being within the edges of the Forest and Desert, there was not much that could wear her down. But these were men, normal men, and nothing like Seran or herself.
When Seran spoke, she drew her attention back to him and smiled, although it did not quite reach her eyes, not completely. When he began to walk forward, she laid a hand upon his arm, staying him a bit as a small breeze whipped the long sleeve in front of her.
"The men are thirsty, Brother. Perhaps they may be released to quench their thirst and rest their feet while we invesitgate?"
Seran paused and looked back over his men, seeing then what his Sister already knew. His face broke into a grin and he nodded, raising his voice so that the twenty could hear him.
"Very well! You men have served well this last leg, and I thank you. Why don't you find the nearest Inn or Tavern, rest your feet and have a drink. But don't stray too far, we might need to be on our way fairly quickly."
The men would mill about for a moment, unsure, but then one by one and then the whole cadre would wander off, finding the nearest place with something cold to drink and chairs and tables for them. They would stick together. Being one unit had gotten them this far, they would not split up within the walls of an unknown city.
Chandra would watch them go and then turn back to her brother, her lips and eyes smiling equally now. Her brother was a great man, and a better general. Falling into step with him, his equal at the moment, right at his side, she turned those eyes back to the Golden Man and the Guard.
Let us see what this city holds for us, Brother.
And towards the Gathering they would go.
Democrats Abroad! || Vote From Abroad
Cha+Investingation to discern intent. (1d10=8, 1d10=1, 1d10=1, 1d10=7, 1d10=6)
Investigation is speed 4, I think, yeah? [No book atm]
Reynolds: 1
Guard: 5
The guard smiles and acts amiable, "Sorry for being so terse, but we've had some hooligans in lately. You with them? I'd hate to have more people coming in trying to pull some shady business."
The crowd draws in, watching the curious exchange between the friar and the guard. The guard fidgets with the chain, revealing rather simply that it's utilitarian. It's a fighting chain of some variety.
Planeswalker
Will of the Council - Starting with you, each player votes for death goblin.
Meanwhile, his followers were still moving through the crowd. The more soldierly of them, though there weren't many, where spreading out to keep an eye on things. Those concerned with the more mundane things were trying to determine if there was somewhere for their group to bed down for free, or if perhaps someone might donate a room or stable at least. The remaining few men in gold were assisting with moving the crowd closer, chatting with the people, prepping them to receive the performance they were sure was coming.
"Hooligans? Why, of course not. My brothers and sisters would never sully themselves in the eyes of Heaven with any action that could gain them a title such as that."
Of course, at this point, looking over towards said tavern, he sees Swan, and, for a second, you can see his eyes go a little wide, "and we wouldn't mind some distinguished company," he adds, gesturing to the crowd, Swan first.
Mechanics: Your MDV is 6 [Essence 3 + Integrity 2 + Will 6 = 11, divided by 2 rounded up] but he did get awful close. That said, while you may not feel compelled (meaning you don't have to spend a will to avoid his suggestion), you can follow it if you want to. This is why I love social combat.
Ticks:
Folly: 9
Reynolds: 5
Meanwhile, as Chandra and Seranocis stand watching idly, they notice a gentleman in what appears to be a fine but action-oriented set of robes has moved up beside them. He has a shock of green hair floating off his head, and his skin has a faint tint of green like a cut sapling. His posture suggests that he is leaning back against something, pelvis forward and shoulders back, and his hands rest on a pair of white jade chopsticks seated in his belt-sash. He speaks idly, "The bar sounds nice, yeh? I might like to have some words with you. You stick out in ways I'm being paid to notice, which in turn, might get you paid, yeh? My name's Asphalt Crashing Stylus, and I think some words might be good. At the very least I can pay for some room and board for you and your, uh, friends here."
He speaks easy, with a grin, a voice like you might imagine a hyena or a crocodile to have, could they speak.
Planeswalker
Will of the Council - Starting with you, each player votes for death goblin.
"A welcome suggestion. I was hoping to follow the priest there anyway, he seems an interesting sort. But, jade talks, or so they say, so I'll be happy to hear you out first. My men are plenty tired and could use a bit of rest and drink, don't you think?"
Seran laughed and winked at the man, making an overexaggerated "After you" motion.
"Shall we?"
With a gesture and a nod to his followers, they worked at soothing the crowd, assuring them that the priest would be returning to speak with them soon enough. If they would only come back later...and tell their friends and family, of course. "My good man Folly...perhaps we can talk about arranging things for later tonight...and other nights? My people and I would be honored if you were to provide a secure area for us...and a proper time for this kind of work, when neither you nor anyone using the gate would be inconvenienced." He kept one eye on the other group as he spoke, letting Folly steer him into the tavern and towards the exceptionally attractive woman. He hoped the guard's brains would hold up long enough for some sort of deal to be hammered out.
But she kept her eyes on this man, trying to look for something, anything that might give her more details into his person. She was skilled at watching people, and at keeping an eye out for any that would harm herself or her brother.
And she was leery, being this far from the Wyld, truthfully. That was unsettling to her, at least a tiny bit.
As was the fact that they were moving the opposite direction of their goal.
But she hid these things as they followed the man.
It would not do to have her uneasiness known.
Democrats Abroad! || Vote From Abroad
Once inside the tavern, he waves at the bartender knowingly and picks a table, sits on the far end and kicks out two chairs for you to sit in.
"So... let's cut to the chase, yeh? You're carrying that brand o' gold, and those tattoos aren't exactly common, ya? So I've got a business proposition for you. You take those... talents of whatever variety to the Lord Rankar's ball in 3 days. We're in desperate need of guards who can also act with a degree of tact at the party. We're suspecting some variety of intrusion and we'd like some individuals who can handle themselves well. Really well, actually. So since I'd be paying you to enjoy yourself and stay on your toes, what do you say?"
Join Debate. (1d10=2, 1d10=9, 1d10=7, 1d10=10, 1d10=6, 1d10=2, 1d10=7)
Ticks: Resolving Join battle vs. 5 successes.
I don't suppose either of you have an MDV lower than five? However, do what you will with his response.
"Call me Folly," he says to Swan.
Howard's Folly, having entered the bar and gotten everyone a drink, looks up at the friar as though he hadn't said a thing about a meeting place, and engages you in some small talk, ending with: "So. What brings the both of you here to the humble town of Gem?"
A solid five successes. Pretty fancy.
Ticks:
Reynolds: 9 (go)
Swan: 9 (go as well)
Folly: 14 (invest attack speed 5)
Planeswalker
Will of the Council - Starting with you, each player votes for death goblin.
Two successes, so Seran's slow. So, when its his turn to respond...
Also, Seran's MDV is 6, so he's just barely unaffected unless Mr Greenhair has a really high App. He's inclined to listen anyway, though.
Seran glanced at the man and grinned, recognizing a very good sales pitch when he heard one, but not quite being swayed by it. On the other hand, there was something in it he liked, specifically the chance to get closer to the top of the food chain here. That would help his sister and he get that much closer to their goal, to their dreams.
He gave the man a quick counteroffer.
"Tell y'what, friend, you tell me who you're expecting trouble for, and then we can discuss the details, yes? You seem to know what you're about, so I'd guess your lord has a fair bit of an idea what he needs guarding from, yes? Better if you tell me what I'm signing on for. And tact... hah." Seran gave him a friendly grin.
"Tact is just part of the package, Asphalt... assuming you're honest with us, yes It makes things all nice and friendly-like, and that's what we want, right? Friendly. Can I offer you a drink, seeing how you're kind enough to have offered to pay for the rooms?" Seran winked at him.
Ah, the game. What the life of a mercenary leader was all about. Thank goodness he's learned a few things from his father's armsmaster about dealing with "employers", as well as dealing with enemies.
Not that there was always much difference.
Only 4 successes, unfortunately.
I'm counting 5 successes there.
Chandra's MDV is 5. App of 4, so hopefully the guy's got an appearance lower than that. If his app is higher than that, let me know so that i can spend Essence to boost Chandra's appearance.
Doing another Perc+Aware roll just in case you need me to. if not, go ahead and ignore it.
Perc+Aware (1d10=7, 1d10=6, 1d10=5, 1d10=10, 1d10=6)
looks like... 3 successes.
Chandra had, of course, followed her brother and this man, Asphalt, to the bar and she had watched. The fact that the man could easily be Dragon-blooded set her slightly on edge, but she did her best to not let it show.
Golden eyes watched him, and Seran, bargain over their ability to be useful, and Chandra smiled slightly. Yes, this Lord Rankar just might be a good way for them to finally head South.
Ever South.
As far as the drink for the man, Chandra was already ahead of her brother there. She had made mention of drinks when they had first arrived to one of those that served here. And soon a pot of tea and three cups were brought to the table.
Tea was the drink for making deals, of course.
She would let Seran do the talking, of course. Seran talked, she listened. And watched.
Democrats Abroad! || Vote From Abroad
Even though that's only two successes, since he's mortal, there's a very good chance it's successful, thanks to my hawtness.
At the other table, Asphalt eavesdrops on some other conversations rather openly, and waits idly for either of his two distinguished guests to respond.
Ticks:
Asphalt: 3 (will guard at least one more tick) - takes the social guard action.
Seranocis: 3 (hold)
Chandra Ishra: 0 (go)
Combat 1 Ticks:
Swan: 13
Zi: 12 (go if you'd like, or continue to guard and Swan will go again).
Folly: 14 - refrains from spending a willpower and gossips.
I'm going to keep the tables seperate for now. If they get merged there'll be more turn-waiting, so do that if you want. You guys seem pretty good about working on this regardless.
Planeswalker
Will of the Council - Starting with you, each player votes for death goblin.
This was how it was usually done, of course. Seran did most of the talking, Chandra did most of the watching and listening, catching little things here and there that might help or hurt them was her job.
She would nod slightly, but leave the rest of it to Seran. This was, of course, his call.
Democrats Abroad! || Vote From Abroad
Charisma Presence roll to get Folly to give some more information about the murders. (1d10=7, 1d10=8, 1d10=7, 1d10=1, 1d10=9, 1d10=1, 1d10=2, 1d10=4)
At the other table:
"My patron, Rankar, has agents in the field like you might expect a decent city-ruler to have. These agents in the field have been ending up dead. That suggests to us a leak of sorts. So we're taking a gamble and hiring outside help. We're thinking there might be an attempt on the Lord's life, probably at the ball," Stylus leans in while saying this, barely above a whisper.
"SO! We pay you to hang out, drink wine, and hold an axe the size of an average man. Swing it if you have to, yeh? Sounds like a deal? Either way, you and your fellows that you brought with you will get room and board for the night. You take it and I'll see about room and board for longer, yeh?"
Planeswalker
Will of the Council - Starting with you, each player votes for death goblin.
"And a bath as well. We have been travelling for a long time, and it is dusty. So room, board, baths, and we get to partake in the food and beverage that the party. And perhaps, even some of the dancing? Agree, and this will be agreed upon by me, and my brother."
And with those words, so softly and gently spoken, she sipped a bit more of her tea, those golden eyes watching the room around them.
Democrats Abroad! || Vote From Abroad
"Perhaps after I've had a word with the people of the city, I'll be able to learn more. I'm sure they do not wish for murderers to continue to live amongst them."