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O Brave New World - IC

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Now that he seems to be calm enough to listen to reason and not harm himself, Renna shifts her weight off of the young man and stands, then she offers up a hand to him and pulls him to his feet. Brushing off some of the dirt, she takes a second to put his clothes back in order then motions for him to have a seat.

"Now that you are not acting silly, lets start over with some introductions. I am Renna, and yes, my friend and I are both Exalted. I am one of the Chosen of the Sun, and Morrolan is a Chosen of Luna. We are the leaders of the Red Arms mercenary company, and we were hired to defend the locals from the ravages of the Din. We are not here to take you back to the King, so don't fret about that." She reaches for her canteen and takes a drink, then offers up the water to Dalisay. "Please, tell me about the King, what happened to you, and the girl. You said her name was Gem, right? What may seem like a small thing may turn out to be a big deal, so don't leave anything out."
 
John raises a hand to his chin, unsure as whether he should proceed with the quick proof path. Before the pause lingers past the wadjeti's patience he responds. "I'm John Barker and I have no school or master. Regardless, I've lived and foraged here for years. If you still demand some display or proof of power before I can attempt a hunt, however..." He reaches his hand to the side with motes and rays of light gathering into his palm. In a sudden snap, John hefted a Guandao perpendicular to the ground, blade up. "Will this suffice?"

The weapon itself was cast, forged, and assembled by John's own hand in a private workshop. It bears some artistic embellishments, but none that would impede practical use.

[Using Summoning the Loyal Steel to recall one of John's weapons by temporarily lifting the 1m commitment.]
 
Renna & Morrolan

He nods and takes some of the proffered water, and swallows, "Okay. I'm Dalisay of Shift Lualhati. Well, uh, she doesn't really have a name, I suppose. I don't think the King ever gave her one, so I just call her Gem. She wasn't finished you see, and I'm not sure he ever would have considered her so. I think that's why she wanted to escape, and thank the mountain - no, well, hah! Yes, in a way - she decided I was her first 'subject' and took me with her before the King could give me to that terrifying woman and her hammer. Gem says the King can sense everything that passes on or through the earth of his mountain, but she can hide herself and the things around her from his senses. I don't think he knows she can do that, nor about the secret gate deep in the palace we used to escape. I don't understand how he could not know about something in his own palace after who knows how many ages he's been up there, but I am grateful."

"When we got out I convinced her to hole up here. She doesn't really understand people, but she says she was made to rule. I figure until I can convince her that no matter how much she makes them look like food I can't eat rocks that I can't let her try to rule anyone but me. Plus if I go out the King will figure out where we are and I'll be so much bronze on that anvil faster than an ash storm."


John & Hazel

From under the shadowy brim of her hat Hazel flashes a smile and the silver barrel of her immense firewand, concealed inexplicably in her cloak. The monk raises an eyescale, "I see. I had heard there were notable arrivals at the docks today, but... well, no matter." He rises smoothly to his feet and heads towards the statue, gesturing for you to follow. He draws a ceremonial knife, "Hold out your arms. I need a small amount of your blood, so the Guardians will know your scent." As you comply he draws the blade across your skin just enough to draw blood, and flicks the blood off the knife into the pool beside him where it billows lazily into a surprisingly large red cloud. "Blessed Lady," he intones, "These heroes seek your blessing that they might walk your land and partake of your bounty. Give them a challenge that they might prove their worthiness in your eyes."

He gestures at the pool, "Cast in your offering." Once you do, he crouches and reaches into the cloud of blood, his hand passing through the surface without a ripple, before drawing forth a shard of amber engraved with a pair of feathered great cats with scorpion tails. When he holds it up to the light it reveals a topological map of an area of the jungle. "You will find your test here. If you need help identifying the location there are locals in the market who make a business of such things. You may hunt the Guardians, or wait for nightfall and they will hunt you. Disappoint her at your peril," he says as he holds out the shard.
 
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Morrolan looks puzzled, but manages to reach into a pack and pull out some meat and cheese for Dalisay to eat. "'Bronze on his anvil?' What does that mean? What does this King want with you? Does he plan on sacrificing you somehow? And where is the girl now? I would like to speak with her to see what she knows."
 
Somewhere within the desert...
There had been one immediate benefit of Chuma's death, thought Atusa, as the Mandjet and her other two ships sailed back to the Manzil-Hematti. As much as she might have wanted to marry him, even Aejej would not deny Hasani the right to attend his father's funeral, though she might have assumed he would come back to her afterwards. Whatever the case, Atusa hoped that by the time she next saw Aejej, Hasani would have moved on from her, and the djinn would have found another boy-toy. In the meantime, she had other problems to deal with.

As she had insinuated to Khaemwaset the night before she left, there was likely to be at least some degree of conflict arising from what had happened, hence why she had decided not to bring Moswen with her. Under Fayum law, the Nomarch's eldest living child was his official heir, which in the case of Chuma would be his firstborn son Chumiren. However, it was widely known among Chuma's courtiers and vassals that there was little love between Chumiren and his eldest two brothers, Kotahmun and Sakomet, with Kotahmun had gone so far as to remark that Chumiren would surely ruin the Fayum if he ever became Nomarch. And while many of his father's clansmen and vassals would happily support Chumiren for no reason besides their oaths demanding it, many others would surely flock to Kotahmun, who had proven himself a great champion and war leader, with all the associated popularity. As for Sakomet, while he was unlikely to have as many supporters as either of his two brothers, he was known to have allies and contacts within the Sassarin Principate, giving him enough power to be a wildcard.

It was one of the best recipes for civil war Atusa had ever seen. And indeed, many courtiers who were considered wise had grimly speculated that without Chuma's authority keeping the peace, his three oldest sons would likely fracture the Fayum, and quite possibly destroy the clan to implode in the process. And if Chuma had intended to do anything about this situation, he had been killed before such plans could come to fruition.

---

The Nomarch of the Hematti felt that she had gotten the chance to know Chuma's children quite well. Besides the talk she'd heard about them, and the past occasions on which she and her parents had visited the Fayum capital and thus been able to interact with them, she'd spent two years fostered at Chuma's household following her father's decision to become a vassal of the man.

She and Chumiren had never gotten along well with each other, the young Kheru's cruel and viscous attitude soon turning Atusa against him. She privately dreaded the thought of having him as her overlord, not least because in addition to his personal flaws, Chumiren had long felt that his father had been too generous with some of the clans he'd subjugated, the Hematti among them. Odds were he would try and reverse some of the decisions Chuma had made that had benefitted the Hematti, namely those relating to Atusa's trade routes.

Kotahmun she knew little; he had always been too preoccupied with his martial training and then fighting in his father's conflicts to socialize with her as much as they might have both wanted. The two of them had sparred with each other a number of times though, and come to respect one another as strong opponents. And Atusa certainly knew enough about him to consider him a ruler she wouldn't mind serving too much. He was certainly preferable to Chumiren.

She had however ended up getting along quite well with Sakomet, the two of them bonding over a mutual enjoyment of both senet and shatranj, the latter being a popular board-game within the Sassarin Principate. But while he had always conveyed an attitude of not being too interested in ruling the Fayum, what with having two brothers ahead of him in the line of succession, there had been occasions when Atusa saw him staring wistfully at Chuma's throne, causing him to wonder if he harbored secret ambitions of becoming Nomarch of the Fayum.

Whatever the case, things were sure to get interesting over the next few months.

---

Atusa's return to the Manzil-Hematti was an occasion of triumph, her people happy to celebrate the defeat of Acekara, even if the Zenith would have preferred to bring back the Raksha's head. She played her part in the celebrations, but soon busied herself with catching up on everything that had happened during her absence, as well as making sure that at the very least, Dakarai didn't try and murder Hasani following their reunion.

Once the Zenith had spent as much time as she could upon affairs of state, she set sail for the Fayum capital with Hasani in tow, in order to both attend Chuma's funeral, and try to get a firsthand look at the political situation.

[Pass. Assuming that your next post will at the very least feature Atusa arriving at the Fayum capital. I'll let you decide what happens from there.]

Whoo, finally got around to posting!

Based on what's been said about Chuma, I'm going to retroactively give Atusa a Minor Tie of Respect towards him. While she knows of his faults and those of his court, as well as the fact that he once spilled Hematti blood, she recognizes that he achieved many things for his people, and was ultimately quite generous to her father with regards to trade routes.

With regards to his three children, I've decided upon the following. They're listed in order of most favored to take the crown, along with the basic reasons behind their ranking, and a brief physical description for you to make use of if you wish. As for the rest of the stuff you've asked for, I imagine I've covered that quite well enough in the IC part of the post, but feel free to ask if you believe otherwise. So without further ado, we have:
  • Chumiren, the dark mirror to his father. The firstborn, and thus Chuma's official successor under traditional Faqari law, meaning that many of his father's clansmen and vassals will feel obligated to support him. Tall and athletic, though built more for agility than strength, with a long pointed goatee and neck-length black hair.
  • Kotahmun, the battlefield commander and legendary thunder warrior worthy of his father's legacy. The second son of Chuma, he won much support among the Fayum and his father's vassals by distinguishing himself in battle on countless occasions, with the result that many of them would proudly fight alongside him. He looks like one of the Pharaohs of legend; tall, musclebound and handsome in an intense way, with a short goatee and magnificent mane of neck-length crimson hair.
  • Sakomet, the occultist with ties to the Principate. The third and youngest of Chuma's sons, with less support among his people than his brothers, but with allies among the Principate. Leaner and slightly shorter than Kotahmun, handsome in a relaxed way, and possessing a short goatee and a head of short crimson hair.

As for other nobles Atusa met during her fostering, here's what I've got:
  • Isamet Asyut. Atusa's age, but the two of them never got along; Isamet constantly acted superior to everyone else due to Clan Asyut's old status, and resented Atusa for belonging to a clan that profited under the Fayum. Atusa in turn saw Isamet as a spoiled brat who refused to accept her clan's fall from grace. The two of them have never met each other since, but will almost certainly do so here.
  • Badru Masika. A woman around Atusa's age, and an old flame of hers in the present day, the two of them having become best friends during their time in Cheru's care, and then enjoyed a brief tryst as adults before Badru was betrothed to another Fayum vassal. Dark-skinned, slim and with long silver-hair (a mark of divine heritage, possibly an indication of her being Moon-touched, though you can veto this if you wish).
  • Chigaru Kesimet. Much like Isamet, he never got along with Atusa, though in his case it was due to the Hematti and Kesimet being traditional enemies of each other. His clan will almost certainly join up with Chumiren against the Hematti.

With regards to who murdered Chuma, one idea I had was to have Isamet be the culprit, acting out of revenge for what happened to her clan. It's up to you whether you do the same though; part of me does like the idea of only finding out who did it when Atusa does.

The way I'm envisioning things at the moment, the civil war will at the very least be Chumiren vs Kotahmun, with Sakomet either throwing his lot in with Kotahmun, declaring against both his brothers, or just trying to stay out of the conflict. Atusa will declare against Chumiren if/when he tries to take away the trade routes granted to the Hematti by Chuma, seeing this as both a threat to her clan, and an unjust action on Chumiren's part.

In terms of Atusa's future goal, I'm thinking along the lines of deposing Chumiren, as either the means to an end (independence and/or greater wealth and status for the Hematti) or an end in of itself. Obstacles would be things like rival clans (the Kesimet being one example), threats to Atusa and the Hematti's allies, or anything else that would be appropriate to a war scenario.
Health Levels: 0, -1, -1, -1, -1, -2, -2, -2, -2, -4, Incapacitated
Initiative:
Anima: Dim
Wound Penalty: 0

Personal Essence: 13/13
Peripheral Essence: 28/33
Committed Essence: 5
Willpower: 5/5
Offhand Charge: 0/7

Evasion 4, Parry 5
Armor: Buff Jacket (Soak 3, Mobility Penalty 0)
Natural Soak: 2
Armored Soak: 3
Hardness: 0
 
John sets down a satchel and removes from it a labeled bottle of one of his recent successes in brewing, a gently sweetened hard cider, and sets it into the pool. He nods his head at the explanation from the monk and takes the shard in hand to make note of where his target lies.

He’s no general, but he will attempt to see how far away his mark is and what else is in the vicinity. If he can prevent an ambush attack, that would be ideal. He’s not really one for sneak attacks himself. Is there a place where he can bunker down and wait to confront the guardian? Also, I think it’s already approaching nightfall, how much time does he have to prepare for a confrontation?
 
Renna & Morrolan:

Dalisay waves off the proffered food, "I appreciate it, but I picked up some supplies last week. Told her I missed the taste of home. Yeah, sacrificed sounds about right. I didn't stick around long enough to find out, but none of the other kids were up there, and Gem says the King gives them to the woman with the hammer when she shows up every year and she... makes things out of them. Things like... Gem. Pieces of her, anyway. I don't really understand how it works," he looks visibly disturbed by and conflicted about this. Thinking about it is clearly upsetting.

While you've been speaking statues have slowly but surely been appearing in the garden, an accumulating crowd watching from a safe distance. Rogosh fingers his bow nervously, "That sounds sick. I don't like this, sir. This place is full of foul magic."

Dalisay welcomes the distraction, but it takes him a moment to change trains of thought, "Uh, they're, um, harmless. I think. Gem makes them. They're smart enough to do basic chores, but not much else. She's underground somewhere, doing that thing she does. She says she doesn't sleep, but it seems like sleeping to me." He turns to the nearest statue, "Inform her Majesty we have guests."

The statue vanishes, and nothing happens for many seconds until the earth seems to, well, sigh and maybe shift a little, and there's a sudden flurry of activity as many of the statues vanish - presumably to do whatever they were supposed to be doing instead of gawking, then the earth ripples like water and what you can only presume is 'Gem' or 'the Princess' rises gracefully to hover a few centimetres above the ground. To call it a girl is most definitely a stretch, its loosely humanoid body composed of too-long 'bones' of brass and some light drinking metal surrounded by an eclectic collection of luminous shards of crystal and gemstone, all hanging seemingly unsupported in the air. A smooth mask of polished crystal rests where a face would be, its only concession to human features the glowing eyes that shine through. And yet there is a vaguely feminine cast to its figure, and considerable effort has been made to humanize it: The cascade of teardrop gemstones that form coiled braids that float behind its head look remarkably like hair at first glance, the glowing eyes surprisingly expressive, and the delicate hands beautifully carved and lifelike. On its brow rests a crown of shining brass of singular craftsmanship set with precious gems, and its fingers are heavy with similarly ornate jewellery and seals.

The overall effect is dazzling and regal, an awe-inspiring presence that rivals Renna's. The effect is somewhat dampened when her hand flies to where her mouth would be, eyes widening in surprise and dismay, wailing in a melodious voice composed of pure tones like a noble tapping a crystal glass for attention, "Dalisay! You did not tell us our first guests were Celestial Exalted! We have no banquet prepared, and we have not finished construction of the guest wing!" There is a brief grinding sound like rock on rock that you infer must be the equivalent of clearing one's throat as she pulls herself up to her full and impressive height, hovering slightly higher off the ground, her hands spread palms up in welcome, her eyes warm and inviting, addressing you in the beautiful language of the gods. It doesn't take her long to realize you don't understand, and her crystal mask develops a soft pink glow in the cheeks before she abruptly stops and starts again in Flametongue, "Noble Exalted, be welcome as honoured guests at our court. We shall make every effort to see your every desire is gratified. Our household is entirely at your disposal. We apologize for its deplorable state, and hope your are not offended by what little we can offer."

[Her mere presence inspires a Minor Tie of Awe. 1 WP to resist this supernatural effect.]
 
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Renna bows deep to the gem-woman. "Please, there is no need for such formalities as a feast. Our physical needs are few, but what would benefit us well would do us much better than any fine meal. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Renna Taeger, Chosen of the Unconquered Sun of the Dawn Caste, and this is my boon companion and fellow Exalt, Morrolan. He is one of Luna's Chosen, and my dear friend, and the second in command in the Red Arms mercenary company that I am the Captain of. If it would not be a manner of some offense to ask, would you please grace us with your name so we can properly address you here in your court?"

Renna is clearly not a socialite, but is doing her best to be diplomatic. Hopefully, this spirit will give me some points for trying.
 
Rykon Rykon Random Word Random Word

The girl brought her furred hand to her mouth. Licking away the blood to let her saliva speed up the healing process. Goodness. As much as she was one to use ceremony and spectacle, she found herself a little annoyed that anytime blood had to be drawn that people always wanted to use a knife. Well, one day if she had her way. She would shift that paradigm to needles. Cuts were annoying. Especially since it was almost always on the hands.

Oh well. It wasnt the first time and it wouldn't be the last. So she tucked her large dragon sigh wand back behind her. Oh how she craved the access of elsewhere that she had so readily taken for granted back then. She did so not miss the feeling of the hard barrel pushing itself against her spine, the muzzle riding up her collar, or the stock bumping into her calves if she moved wrong. Even if the moonsilver did its best to make it infinitely more comfortable than the mundane alternative, it was still no comparison to how it used to be. The things she did just keep up her parlor tricks. But soon... soon she would get a new handle on her essence again. Her and Erembours essence anyway... it was like having to learn how to swim all over again.

"Are you worried?" Hazel finally says, looking at John. Assuming the thoughtful look on his face as some sort of mild consternation. She then grinned, surprisingly cheerful at the thought of protecting him that suddenly crossed her mind. "I'll make sure you don't have anything to worry about. Cause, you see, I got ways of making this easier." Hazel had no inclination of fighting fair. Though... she was also likely the quickest to complain when her enemies weren't fighting fair. "I can fly, you know."
 
"I guess you could say that." John conceded. "I'm not a very practiced combatant, but I actually feel eager to see this done. It's... odd. Other than that I'm trying to think of a good place to confront our mark." He placed his arm around his mate as they stepped away from the temple. His mind still grappled with the dilemma before eventually striking a bargain with himself. "Of all the places that come to mind, there is one near to its current location. A small dilapidated stronghold from older times. All that remains is crumbling walls around a tilted watchtower, with a notably level interior. Since you can fly, you should be able to spot the mark's approach easily enough. Ready for a little nature walk?"

[Rolling to Introduce a Fact of an old ruin around a tilted tower with an un-tilted/level interior that is near their mark. No essence on charms, but John gets a free non-charm success from Harmonious Academic Methodology. Unlucky roll, only 3 successes.]
 
Atusa:

When you broke the news Hasani's expression was difficult to read, but swiftly resolved to a rueful smile, "I often wondered if it would kill father to see me succeed at something. As it turns out, yes."

Aajej weeps tears of gold and swears to never forget Hasani, kissing him passionately before he boards your ship. Hasani is sworn to his father, and she cannot deny his familial obligation, even knowing full well his family will not soon let him out of their sight. Sirocco makes a sympathetic noise.

Moswen gives you a look full of promise for the next time she sees you, while her sister Matsimela tries not to smirk at her.

---

White is the colour of death. The colour of sun-bleached bone and timeworn edifices long forgot. On this the Faqari and the Sassarin agree. White being a necessity of dress in the desert seems fitting. Where they differ is the colour of life. Black for the Sassarin, the colour of fertile floodplain soil. There is little and less of this in the desert, and so to the Faqari life runs red like blood under the merciless sun. Red like the fire in their veins. Red like the setting sun before you, and the sunrise tomorrow that will herald Chumiren's ascension. Chumiren wears white robes with trim and falcon's head in brilliant yellow instead of the traditional red of the clan heir as he hefts the crackling bolt of forged lightning in one hand and lets fly at the elaborate funerary kite bearing Chuma's remains. The flickering light of the bolt's passage illuminates the dozens of thunderbirds perched high above in the ruined sky temple, their expressions inscrutable behind golden tasseled half-veils as they look down upon the proceedings with glowing yellow eyes. Their legs end in wicked talons and their arms yellow-feathered wings. The two djinn flanking Chumiren seem to pointedly ignore them.

The bolt seeks the kite unerringly, igniting the packed firedust and metal salts when it strikes, erupting into a ball of brightly coloured flame, casting ball lightning out in all directions, and scattering his ashes to the winds. Whatever else this new funerary rite of the Fayum might be, it's certainly more theatrical than a traditional pyre. It would look more spectacular at night, but rumour has it the thunderbirds demanded the rite be performed by the light of the sun. Chumiren turns back to the crowd of nobles assembled before him, tears streaming down his face, "Nomarch Chuma was a fine warrior, a visionary, but most of all a great leader to our people." Kotahmun bristles at the perceived minimization of their father's martial legacy. This ceremony is about as volatile as that funerary kite. Everyone seems on edge. "Now he rejoins the winds that ever fill our sails. It is up to each of us to live up to his legacy, driven ever onwards by those winds. My father had a grand vision of a Faqari people united in glory to rival the Hetshepsut [The Ur-Pharoah's clan, who have almost completely united the Faqari of the northern sands]." Sakomet in his ostentatious foreign jewelry looks askance at the favourable allusion to the Ea-Abzeans. "He rejoined the winds before he could see his will made manifest, but his destiny flows through my veins and I will see it done." A great weight of expectation lies on Chumiren's shoulders - his father set a difficult precedent with the rapid series of victories he secured shortly after his ascension and many wonder whether his eldest son can hope to live up to his legacy in this regard - but he stands unbowed.

The sun has set by the time all of the speeches are complete, but before Chumiren ascends at dawn there is a celebration that will go all night to commemorate the fallen Nomarch's glory and celebrate the coming ascension of his heir. Several large barracks areas of the township have had their maze of tent-walls disassembled and replaced with interlocking wooden platforms to form an ostentatiously large banquet hall, one side open to the duneway as it races by in the night, light spilling out over the moonlit dunes. Only a duneway is so smooth and stable such a large portion of the ship can be made so rigid. The political landscape hardly looks like such smooth sailing, but its divisions are every bit as rigid, the three large clusters centred around their respective Kheru with a surprising number of attendees never crossing the boundaries to so much as exchange pleasantries.

Around Kotahmun are gathered many militant captains from one branch of the family, descended of the aging Benipe Fayum, one of Chuma's mentors and finest generals. They are striking in their belts and sashes of command, boasting and drinking imported wines and spirits. Nearby sits the djinn Herald of Dawnlight, their flute filling the air with lively music, playing their own harmony and counterpoint through multiple pipes as warriors whirl around tall pillars of flame coaxed from firedust braziers and shaped into beautiful shifting designs of shimmering heat and flickering light.
Resolve 3; Guile 2
Appearance 3

Aspects:
Impetuous
Daring
Innovative
Blunt

All of Sakomet's sycophants - traders seeking foreign contracts, admirers and courtiers seeking his hand, the Fayum's few exploration-minded captains who court his knowledge - pale before the foreign dignitary who stands closest by his side: the Sorcerer-Prince Bahadur Al-Kimyai. You recognize him from the war, for he is not easily forgotten. Clearly a graduate of the College of Life, famous and infamous in equal measure for sculpting their bodies like river clay into exquisite and grotesque shapes, and likely the College of Alchemy if the metallic bronze tint of his skin is anything to go by. By law those who 'ascend' by undertaking a graduate working of self transformation conceal their forms in public so as to avoid disrupting the day to day business of their cities, but at galas like this they are permitted to flaunt their artistry, and such artistry it is. His body is a masterful sculpture cast from the divine mould that inspired the gods to create all lesser men, every muscle carved with exquisite precision and arresting definition, like something that would sit in place of pride in some Sassarin gallery, polished and cared for in reverential rituals daily by a dozen attendants. He wears only sandals and a knee-length skirt of white linen unadorned except for a small black symbol of the Ministry of War, keeps his head shaved, his black beard long, oiled, and decorated with bronze as is the fashion in the Principate, and wears many simple bronze bracelets and anklets. Like Sakhoment, small gold chains run from the piercings on his nose to his ear where elaborate pendant earrings hang.

His presence sends a clear message that Sakomet can't be casually killed or imprisoned, but the Sorcerer-Prince can't remain here for long and so only serves to buy Sakomet time. If the amorous looks they're giving one another are any indication the many admirers they've accumulated won't be taking them into bed, but doubtless this too is calculated to give his enemies pause.

Resolve 2; Guile 3
Appearance 4

Aspects:
Foreign in Manner and Taste
Dreamsinger
Allergic to Pain
Learned
Resolve 4; Guile 3;
Appearance 6

Shape Sorcery 8; Command 6; Awareness 5; Resist Poison/Disease 7; Feats of Strength 11 dice (Can attempt Strength 6 Feats)

Around Chumiren is wrapped most of Chuma's former inner circle, with the exception of Benipe, as well as the less martial powerbrokers of the Clan: The Keepers of the Amphoras, the shipwrights, the trade captains, the artisans and explorers, all who have directly benefited from his quietly competent administration while his father was out campaigning, or witnessed the consequences of courting his ire and have no wish to repeat the experience. He holds court from an elevated platform that overlooks the celebration, wearing a sumptuous cloak of cloth of gold feathers and a crown of frozen lightning, all against a backdrop open to the night sky where several thunderbirds shine like brilliant stars as they soar in the distance.

Resolve 3; Guile 3
Appearance 3

Aspects:
Sadist
Born to Lead
Keen Administrator
Insecure

Representatives of the ever hungry crocodiles of the Shedyet, far ranging hawks of the Teudjoi, once-proud wolves of the Asyut, and tenacious bulls of the Yamu are all present, which, including the Hematti, represent all of the major vassals of the Fayum, circling in their best finery the wounded falcon that is the Fayum. All this splendor pales before your entrance, and a momentary hush overtakes the celebration as the honour guard announce you. By this point rumours of your victory have spread, and this only adds to your growing legend. Chumiren is visibly annoyed as hundreds of eyes are pulled from him to you, many considering your probable course of action in the event of a succession crisis.

Dakarai approaches you with Hasani on her arm. You suspect she is no more inclined than the Fayum to let him out of her sight any time soon. "Thank you again for returning my fiance safely home, Radiance."

Hasani smirks, "Quite. I thank you, Nomarch, for seeing me safely returned home [he makes the hand sign for 'viper's nest']. It was no simple feat, what with the recent spate of attacks by Raksha. The duneways [trade routes] are becoming more dangerous by the day. Something must [will] be done," he shakes his head in feigned dismay. "I'd advise you to watch your back, but you are keen eyed and quick witted; I think you'll see your enemies coming [from on high, tomorrow morning]." His words are innocuous enough the djinn flanking Chumiren are unlikely to report anything of significance. Still, courting his brother's ire is risky. Perhaps he hopes you will protect him.

Dakarai smiles, "The Raksha are the ones who must live in fear. The next time you decide to defeat a hundred Raksha, Atusa, you must promise to take me with you."

[Pass; If there's nothing you want to do at the party we'll jump to Chumiren's ascension tomorrow, where he will start exercising his newly granted power to ensure he doesn't appear weak to his vassals. Hasani has warned you that will include stripping the two trade routes granted to your father using the justification the recent increase in Raksha attacks against vessels traversing them indicates you aren't up to defending them.]
 
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Renna & Morrolan:

Rogosh takes an involuntary step backwards and grimaces as the scouts and Dalisay are momentarily awestruck.

"It is an honour, Captain Renna Taeger of Red Arms and Second Captain Morrolan of Red Arms. My father gifted me with no name, for we are incomplete, but Dalisay has given me the name Gem, so you may address me as Queen Gem of Khmun. If it is within my power to grant you this thing that will benefit you more than a fine meal, name it and you shall have it."
 
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Renna thinks for a moment, then says, "Queen Gem, if you would provide us with information, that would be worth more to me than a kings' ransom. Right now, the forces of your father are on the move, and we are tasked with protecting the people that his Din are killing. We need to stop this war, and any information you can give us to that end would be worth the lives of many of my men." She looks over at Morrolan to see if he is also as awestruck as she is. "Please, M'lady."
 
The funeral...
As befitted the occasion, Atusa wore a sleeveless white robe alongside her sandals and bronze adornments, as well as a white hood. For this part of the ceremony, the majority of her fellow nobles would be dressed predominantly in white as well, along with their individual touches such as Sakhomet's foreign jewellery.

The Zenith looked up as Chuma was interred within the skies, raising an eyebrow from beneath her hood. She knew for certain that she would not be the only one who reacted this way. As impressive a spectacle as it was, many of the guests had to be wondering about this break in tradition, and what it might herald. Did Chumiren plan to break from the old ways of his people? Was this a show of power, a demonstration that he was strong enough to be above the usual practices? Or had Chuma requested such a thing in his will for some reason?

As Chumiren spoke, Atusa took stock of the situation, including listening to the man's remarks and observing how his brothers reacted to them. It didn't take long for her to notice that the mood was about as tense as she had feared it would be.

The celebration...
They'd already started drawing the battle lines, Atusa thought to herself, as she stepped into the Faqari equivalent of a ballroom and saw how the other guests were grouped around Chumiren, Kotahmun and Sakhomet. She'd since exchanged her white robe for an ochre one and lost the hood, allowing her brown hair to flow freely and fully showcasing her beauty to all there. Still, she got the feeling that her suddenly becoming the centre of attention wasn't entirely due to her physical appearance. News of the encounter with Acekara must have spread fast.

As she gave a polite smile and wave to the fellow guests, she glanced up at Chumiren long enough to spot the vexed look on his face, and then looked away before their eyes could meet. No need to start playing the silent communication game yet, she decided, before her attention was drawn to Hasani and Dakarai.

"I assure you that I had no idea I would take part in such a battle upon the dunes, Dakarai." she replied to the woman, sounding like she had taken part in a pleasant hunt as opposed to a harrowing experience. "Still, I have little doubt that there will be an occasion for you to fight by my side soon enough."

It was as open a reference to the impending civil war as she was willing to make. She then looked at Hasani, having heard his spoken words and the ones between the lines. "I thank you for your sagacity, Kheru. May I be wise enough to remember your words until my dying day." she replied with a bow of her head, letting him know she'd gotten the message.

She gave Chumiren another quick glance, then addressed Hasani again. "I should go and offer your brother my condolences. Farewell for now, you two."

With that, she departed from the conversation and began walking towards Chumiren, ignoring the admiring glances being sent her way as the crowd slowly parted for her. Once within close distance of him, she looked up and met his eye, her face becoming a mask of sympathy for him.

"A comfort for your loss, my lord." she said, bowing her head and speaking with sympathy. "I know from experience that the death of one's father is not an easy thing to endure."

Regardless of Hasani's warnings, and the fact that Atusa and Chumiren had never gotten along with each other, as a recent arrival within the township who had had no opportunity to speak with him prior to the service, Atusa was obligated to give him some words of comfort now. To not do so might have come off as a deliberate snub on her part, and she had no desire to play her hand too early.

[Pass. I assume that besides being obligated to offer her condolences, Atusa would want to catch up with Sakomet and then speak with Kotahmun enough to avoid snubbing him, before mingling with the other attendees. I'm fine with skipping over these things, since we've already worked out some of the details on what's going to happen next, but I'm also fine if you want to do otherwise.]
Health Levels: 0, -1, -1, -1, -1, -2, -2, -2, -2, -4, Incapacitated
Initiative:
Anima: Dim
Wound Penalty: 0

Personal Essence: 13/13
Peripheral Essence: 28/33
Committed Essence: 5
Willpower: 5/5
Offhand Charge: 0/7

Evasion 4, Parry 5
Armor: Buff Jacket (Soak 3, Mobility Penalty 0)
Natural Soak: 2
Armored Soak: 3
Hardness: 0
 
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Renna & Morrolan:

Gem's expression darkens and her arms cross at the mention of her father. Dalisay cringes at the mention of armies marching, and Gem's expression goes from distaste to shock and then fury. "Armies of Din? How are we to lead the Hisari to greatness if he butchers them all! Ignorant fool of a father." An idea occurs to her, and her expression brightens, "We shall command them to stop at once and return to their proper duties, and in the process earn the goodwill of my subjects!" She comes up short, having remembered your request, "But we forget ourselves. First your questions. What would you know of my father?"

Dalisay, with some effort, speaks up, "Ah, Majesty, perhaps - the gate?"

Gem looks at him, puzzled, "Why should they care about the gate?"

"Ah, that is, I think they want to, um... speak to the King."

Gem looks back to Renna, "Father is obstinate and ill-tempered. The Hall of Enduring Silence is an awful place that no one should want to visit. There is an old Gateway of Auspicious Passage father has forgotten - or perhaps is forbidden to know - but even you, noble Exalts, are forbidden entry by the old laws. It is both prison for the most heinous of criminals and an imperial armoury, and entry is tightly controlled. We do not recommend taking it. You will not be greeted with the honours you deserve. What else would you know?"
 
Morrolan raises up an eyebrow at Gem's information. A Gateway into this Hall of Enduring Silence? A Imperial armory? Perhaps this would be just the place to go and get some added gear for the Red Arms and slide into the Hall to be able to put a foot on the throat of the King and either make him see reason, or turn to a more . . . permanent . . . solution.

"M'lady, what old laws are you talking about, and this prison and armory? If there is a passage into this fortress, it could be our ticket to end this war once and for all, by sliding the infantry of the Red Arms into the palace along with the Exalts of the company, bypassing the walls. Besides, depending on what we can find in this prison and armory, it may just be the ticket to gaining some powerful allies and weapons."
 
Renna gives Morrolan a smile; her thoughts were going along those same lines. "It is my understanding that the Solars of the old empire made their own rules, so I am wondering who it was that made up this law to keep people out of this passageway. M'lady, if we were to face the King and be forced to do battle with him, would you be capable of taking his place as the ruler of the mountain? What can you tell us of the King himself?"
 
"I guess you could say that." John conceded. "I'm not a very practiced combatant, but I actually feel eager to see this done. It's... odd. Other than that I'm trying to think of a good place to confront our mark." He placed his arm around his mate as they stepped away from the temple. His mind still grappled with the dilemma before eventually striking a bargain with himself. "Of all the places that come to mind, there is one near to its current location. A small dilapidated stronghold from older times. All that remains is crumbling walls around a tilted watchtower, with a notably level interior. Since you can fly, you should be able to spot the mark's approach easily enough. Ready for a little nature walk?"

[Rolling to Introduce a Fact of an old ruin around a tilted tower with an un-tilted/level interior that is near their mark. No essence on charms, but John gets a free non-charm success from Harmonious Academic Methodology. Unlucky roll, only 3 successes.]


"Walk shmalk." Hazel scoffed. Trying to sound less awkward than she felt as he pulled her closer to him. Not bad awkward! Oh no. It wasn't bad at all. But the butterflies in her stomach was most certainly not something she was used to having to deal with.

"By I, I mean we. I can make us fly. And don't you worry about combat. That's what I'm here for! I got to make sure you stay safe and unharmed. Oh, sure," she began to admit sheepishly,"I may have hid behind others when I could, but I assure you I am just as capable at the front." She said. She hoped. Hmm... well that was when she had a bit more control over her essence than she did now. "Okay. Maybe not. But still, I am right dangerous I am. Very tricky."




She clapped and rubbed her hands together. Not pulling away from him. "Alright. Its not as impressive as it used to be, but don't judge me. I'm still a bit out of sorts."

She raised up her hand and pointed it at the sky her fingers as if reaching out for it, a particularly fluffy cloud had caught her eye. That would do nicely.


( Random Word Random Word Would you like me to roll to shape the sorcery?)
 
Hazel & John

Onlookers are spellbound as Hazel beckons a cloud from the sky and it obligingly descends to be transmuted to shimmering gold before she and John board, the crowd applauding and cheering as they soar off into the sky. Word of a new Sorcerer in town, in her wide brimmed hat and cloak, will surely spread like wildfire.

The jungle is a beautiful riot of colour, scent, and sound, oppressively humid and bewildering in its diversity. It will also kill without hesitation, and unprepared travellers rarely survive to see the next sunrise. John was born here, and having made countless journeys into the jungle in search of the choicest ingredients guides Hazel and her cloud safely through the dense canopy, avoiding poisonous snakes and carnivorous vines wrapped around branches heavy with fragrant fruit, the barely perceptible webs of man-eating spiders, and the cleverly disguised traps of tengu. The smoke of specially prepared incense keeps the worst of the biting insects away. Thanks to the cloud you avoid the difficult terrain and make excellent time in relative comfort, arriving at the long abandoned fortification about an hour before sunset.

To some its current state of disrepair would reflect poorly on its builders, but John has some notion of how old it is, and so how impressive it is that so much of the structure remains intact in such a hostile environment after so long. Thick vines wrap around the ancient tower as if to slowly crush it, their luminous violet flowers blooming as the sun sets, bathing the courtyard in an eerie light. The courtyard between the outer walls and the inner tower is filled with raised stone planters housing remarkably orderly gardens, somehow sorcerously contained by the glyphs inscribed into the stone. The central chamber proclaims the leaning tower a rest stop for travellers, an intersection between grand highways long lost to the ravages of time and hostile elements. On the far side of the chamber a small weathered stone tablet describes what seem to be emergency protocols for travellers in distress.

As the sun sets the jungle seemingly makes up for the loss of colour by redoubling the variety of sound, thousands of newly awakened players joining the cacophony. Erembour stirs and stretches languidly in the depths of Hazel's soul, and you feel a sense of profound relief as darkness blankets Creation. It's hard to describe how it feels when she wakes; like standing on an endless sheet of black ice above a fathomless darkness until directly beneath a luminous yellow eye of titanic proportions opens, and suddenly it becomes apparent that fathomless darkness is a leviathan, its attention is entirely fixated upon you, and the ice is alarmingly thin. The puissant First Age sorceries that bind her feel like so much rice paper between you when she wakes, and yet somehow night after night they hold. Her whispered words are like nails running up your back, pain and pleasure in equal measure, setting your hair on end. You can almost feel the heat of her breath against your ear, conjuring lurid imagery in your mind's eye. "Oh, Kitten. Your first night alone with your immortal love, feasting on the forbidden and arcane, goblets overflowing with blood spilled together in darkness. This is a night for celebration. And yet you are afraid - that you are not worthy, that he will not love you, that he will not see your beauty as I do, that never again will you have what you once had. I could show you how to bring him such ecstasy as has not been seen in this feeble Age, that he will never want to leave your side. How to wield such power he will stand in awe, never doubting your value. I can taste the fragment of his soul in yours, almost reach out and touch it. Oh, the things I could do. Bind him to you so completely he would gladly fulfill your every desire until the death of time." As always the unspoken price is an ever so slight loosening of the bindings that hold her.

Between the cloud and your skill at navigating the jungle you've arrived with time to spare - how do you spend it? Whatever you choose, it will likely continue to come in handy when visiting structures of a similar era.
  1. If you could figure out the system behind the glyphs containing the gardens you might be able to reverse them, causing the plants to grow explosively and entangle anything nearby.
  2. The inscription seems to describe some kind of prayer or ritual to summon a guardian spirit of the tower to protect its occupants in times of danger. It's incomplete, but perhaps two incomparable geniuses could fill in the blanks in a hurry.
  3. The inscription instructs the injured to seek a cache of medical supplies stored in the tower. It seems difficult to believe they could still exist, let alone hold their potency centuries after they were prepared, but perhaps it's worth investigating regardless?
  4. Another plan. Lay traps, set up an ambush, summon some demons, try to convince Erembour to do something useful, etc.
 
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Atusa

Your approach prompts a flurry of whispers and looks that are a mixture of jealousy, admiration, and awe from Chumiren's attendants who part obligingly. There are many congratulatory remarks about your recent victory, a sentiment Chumiren echoes, but not before his eyes narrow slightly as they roam your form. If they had widened you might think it admiring - you do make this robe look good - but it seems more likely he's looking for something. Something about you has changed - you are somehow more than you were when last you met, but he can't put a finger on it and his features are swiftly schooled into a polite mask.

"Nomarch Atusa," he nods in recognition. The family resemblance to Hasani is obvious, but the features just don't come together quite as well, flaws only visible in a handsome face when standing next to his brother, features slightly too sharp, angular, and harsh. "Yes, I suppose our fathers were both great men. May you serve as an example to me in living up to their legacies." Whether an example to follow or avoid is left an easily deniable exercise for the listener.

"As with your father and mine, I trust I can rely on you in seeing that done. My father tired of outrunning and evading. Before his light was so cruelly and prematurely snatched from us, he was planning a grand offensive against the Court of Bleached Bone. Your triumph does not go unnoticed. Upon my ascension I intend to make you the tip of the spear. I can think of no one better to strike fear into the hearts of our implacable foes." The Chumiren you knew growing up wouldn't nominate you to scrub the deck if he thought it might yield you some advantage - perhaps he hopes to get you killed.

[Read Intentions with 7 dice for where Atusa's support will lie if his brothers attempt to challenge his ascension.]
 
Renna & Morrolan

Gem looks alarmed, "Noble Exalts, we beseech you not to take anything from the armoury. You will break the armistice with Heaven, and anger the Silverwright's ghost." When you suggest taking your soldiers through the passageway she considers it for a moment, "Do your soldiers also need to breathe like Dalisay? We have learned we cannot carry him with us under the earth for long before he must surface for air. The Hall of Enduring Silence can steal the breath from the lungs of intruders and inmates. We have been working on an enchantment so Dalisay no longer needs to breathe while we carry him, but we have not tried it yet. How many mortals are under your command?"

Rogosh looks leery at the idea of being experimented on with untested magicks by a strange spirit, to put it mildly.

Gem shakes her head at Renna's question, "Noble Exalt, much time has passed between your death and birth. Countless empires have risen and fallen since the end of the Deliberative, and many did not afford you the privilege you deserve. The Silverwright filled the armoury of the Hall of Enduring Silence with prisoners and weapons ancient and terrible when she seized Ea-Abzu from the Souldrinker, in the hopes they would never see the light of day again, and forbade entry to all except our Father's servants. Father never ceases to remind us these mountains once served as impregnable bulwark against the Southern Shogun and their crystal legions, and he commanded it all. These lands were not always so inhospitable, but the fortresses have fallen into disrepair and now scourge the land and its people indiscriminately where once they harmed only invaders. That does inspire us - if there were a way to mark you and your people as father's servants, the manse would permit you passage..."

She looks dismayed at the thought of inheriting her father's position, her train of thought sharply broken, "We... may be able to stand our father's eternal vigil, but such a terrible burden should not be apportioned lightly. The Silverwright never relived father of his duties, even when the empire collapsed, and neither have the Sorcerer-Princes since. She is unlikely to return to relieve him now. Those prisoners that still live are immortal. He will stand guard over that prison and the armoury for... eternity." [She really does not want to do this and would have to be persuaded.]

Rogosh clears his throat, "Captain. A bunch of the outlying settlements have been sacked, and the scouts think the Din are massing for another attempt on Kabir. This portal... if we move quick maybe we can nip that in the bud, but if we're too slow the city might fall without us."
 
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Atusa

Your approach prompts a flurry of whispers and looks that are a mixture of jealousy, admiration, and awe from Chumiren's attendants who part obligingly. There are many congratulatory remarks about your recent victory, a sentiment Chumiren echoes, but not before his eyes narrow slightly as they roam your form. If they had widened you might think it admiring - you do make this robe look good - but it seems more likely he's looking for something. Something about you has changed - you are somehow more than you were when last you met, but he can't put a finger on it and his features are swiftly schooled into a polite mask.

"Nomarch Atusa," he nods in recognition. The family resemblance to Hasani is obvious, but the features just don't come together quite as well, flaws only visible in a handsome face when standing next to his brother, features slightly too sharp, angular, and harsh. "Yes, I suppose our fathers were both great men. May you serve as an example to me in living up to their legacies." Whether an example to follow or avoid is left an easily deniable exercise for the listener.

"As with your father and mine, I trust I can rely on you in seeing that done. My father tired of outrunning and evading. Before his light was so cruelly and prematurely snatched from us, he was planning a grand offensive against the Court of Bleached Bone. Your triumph does not go unnoticed. Upon my ascension I intend to make you the tip of the spear. I can think of no one better to strike fear into the hearts of our implacable foes." The Chumiren you knew growing up wouldn't nominate you to scrub the deck if he thought it might yield you some advantage - perhaps he hopes to get you killed.

[Read Intentions with 7 dice for where Atusa's support will lie if his brothers attempt to challenge his ascension.]

Atusa bowed her head again when Chumiren told her of his intentions, trying to keep her face impassive and respectful, while subtly calling upon her Essence to help calm her nerves. "Rest assured that I will always be ready to take up arms against the Court of Bleached Bone." she said stoically.

The shrewdest among the guests would notice that she hadn't said anything about being willing to fight any of Chumiren's other enemies. Not that he had specifically asked about that. Really, at least a quarter of courtly intrigue was about finding ways to avoid either telling outright lies, or openly revealing your true intentions. Another quarter, somewhat ironically, seemed to revolve around finding ways to allude to what you were really planning. Chumiren wanted to make her a spearhead; odds were he wanted to use her as a tool against his enemies. Regardless of whether or not she broke like a piece of brittle metal, he'd stand to benefit either way.

[OOC: Spending 4m Peripheral Essence on my Socialize Excellency and claiming a one-point stunt to boost Atusa's Guile up to 6.]
Essence: 1
Personal Essence: 13/13
Peripheral Essence: 23/33

Committed Essence: 5 (Short daiklaves)

Willpower: 5
Join Battle: 5
Health Levels: -0, -1, -1,-1,-1, -2, -2, -2, -2, -4, Incapacitated
-0: [_]
-1: [_], [_], [_], [_]
-2: [_], [_], [_], [_]
-4: [_]
Resolve 3, Guile 3

Attacks
Orichalcum Short Daiklaves (Withering 15 dice, Decisive 10 dice, Raw Damage 12, Overwhelming 3)

Actions
Rush: 7
Disengage: 7

Evasion 4, Parry 5
Armor: Buff Jacket (Soak 3, Mobility Penalty 0)
Natural Soak: 2
Armored Soak: 3
Hardness: 0
 
"Walk shmalk." Hazel scoffed. Trying to sound less awkward than she felt as he pulled her closer to him. Not bad awkward! Oh no. It wasn't bad at all. But the butterflies in her stomach was most certainly not something she was used to having to deal with.

"By I, I mean we. I can make us fly. And don't you worry about combat. That's what I'm here for! I got to make sure you stay safe and unharmed. Oh, sure," she began to admit sheepishly,"I may have hid behind others when I could, but I assure you I am just as capable at the front." She said. She hoped. Hmm... well that was when she had a bit more control over her essence than she did now. "Okay. Maybe not. But still, I am right dangerous I am. Very tricky."




She clapped and rubbed her hands together. Not pulling away from him. "Alright. Its not as impressive as it used to be, but don't judge me. I'm still a bit out of sorts."

She raised up her hand and pointed it at the sky her fingers as if reaching out for it, a particularly fluffy cloud had caught her eye. That would do nicely.


( Random Word Random Word Would you like me to roll to shape the sorcery?)
John leaned into Hazel's affectionate attachment as she beckoned their ride from the heavens. He met her remarks with a playful smile. "It's a little late for that, I've judged plenty of your back and front 'capability' already. I may be biased but you've excelled with flying colors." He teased with a peck on her cheek. "I too will spare no effort in keeping you safe. Alas, I've no bow, no flame piece, only blade and bludgeon. So I hope you don't like your mate well done."

When the cloud eventually answered her call, he bent down to lift Hazel into his arms, hop onto their conjured vehicle, and set her into his lap to better give directions. In the moments of travel he made an effort to savor the sunset, the moments alone with her, ignorant of the bound demon's plotting.

***

The tower proper was full of plenty of wonder itself even now. The magnified scents of arcane flora wove a new experience even for John. Recent revelations on ancient Achaean geomancy too revealed new insight upon the rune engravings on the various planters and stonework. As if compelled by some obligation, his eyes lock upon the guardian ritual scripts. He traced the characters with his fingers voicing the poetry of the binding aloud. Essence flared from his palm up to his fingertip, etching the stone as if it were merely clay ready to be sculpted by an artist's whim.

[I assume Craftsman Needs No Tools can justify the hand engraving stunt. What rolls do you need Random Word Random Word ? Intelligence + Occult]
 
Let's call that Intelligence + Occult (Derive from first principles) or Lore (Recall a similar inscription, prayer, or text). Given the partial text and the time pressure, I'll say it's difficulty 6 to do inside an hour. An extremely difficult feat for even the greatest of mortal savants.
[I'll take the Lore approach and make the stunt for deciphering here. Full Excellency, I'll try and stretch the Achaean Settlements specialty on this one, but if not just I'll clarify that result aside from the assumed result. Also adding a will for good measure.]

As John recites the poetic lyrics of the inscribed prayer, he recalls records of written prayers to various divinities in the records of Locuran history. Each area followed a standard rhythm to be sung aloud by the supplicant. Javurwa was no different, following its own poetic melody. The key to this one was aligning presumed intent with both the rhythm and rhymes of previous verses. From his time in school, the merchant caste chef learned enough to recite a few of the old songs to the lesser spirits of the valley. The rest was a matter of whether he could find the spark of inspiration.

[6 without any specialty or specialty triggered charm bonuses applying. 12 if Achaean Settlements counts. Either way, it meets the difficulty.]
 
Renna & Morrolan

Gem looks alarmed, "Noble Exalts, we beseech you not to take anything from the armoury. You will break the armistice with Heaven, and anger the Silverwright's ghost." When you suggest taking your soldiers through the passageway she considers it for a moment, "Do your soldiers also need to breathe like Dalisay? We have learned we cannot carry him with us under the earth for long before he must surface for air. The Hall of Enduring Silence can steal the breath from the lungs of intruders and inmates. We have been working on an enchantment so Dalisay no longer needs to breathe while we carry him, but we have not tried it yet. How many mortals are under your command?"

Rogosh looks leery at the idea of being experimented on with untested magicks by a strange spirit, to put it mildly.

Gem shakes her head at Renna's question, "Noble Exalt, much time has passed between your death and birth. Countless empires have risen and fallen since the end of the Deliberative, and many did not afford you the privilege you deserve. The Silverwright filled the armoury of the Hall of Enduring Silence with prisoners and weapons ancient and terrible when she seized Ea-Abzu from the Souldrinker, in the hopes they would never see the light of day again, and forbade entry to all except our Father's servants. Father never ceases to remind us these mountains once served as impregnable bulwark against the Southern Shogun and their crystal legions, and he commanded it all. These lands were not always so inhospitable, but the fortresses have fallen into disrepair and now scourge the land and its people indiscriminately where once they harmed only invaders. That does inspire us - if there were a way to mark you and your people as father's servants, the manse would permit you passage..."

She looks dismayed at the thought of inheriting her father's position, her train of thought sharply broken, "We... may be able to stand our father's eternal vigil, but such a terrible burden should not be apportioned lightly. The Silverwright never relived father of his duties, even when the empire collapsed, and neither have the Sorcerer-Princes since. She is unlikely to return to relieve him now. Those prisoners that still live are immortal. He will stand guard over that prison and the armoury for... eternity." [She really does not want to do this and would have to be persuaded.]

Rogosh clears his throat, "Captain. A bunch of the outlying settlements have been sacked, and the scouts think the Din are massing for another attempt on Kabir. This portal... if we move quick maybe we can nip that in the bud, but if we're too slow the city might fall without us."
Renna thinks for a moment, then says, "It does sound like that this is the way in that we need to stop this war from the top, and the weapons and prisoners in there are off limits. I don't wish to do battle against the King unless absolutely necessary, but if it does come to that, I want to be able to lay into him with such force and with any luck, make him surrender to us before we have to do anything too drastic. So, let us hope for the best, but plan for the worst. Your Majesty, you said that there may be a way to mark us as some of the servants of your Father. Is there a way to do this quickly? We must work in haste in order to save the city from falling."
 

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