O Brave New World - IC

[Random Word]

Spoiler: Metagame Notes

Hazel & John are going to meet, and be the dark horse in a race between a strange white-veiled foreigner rumoured to possess a map to the lost Alcazar of Twelve Ewers - thought to contain the secrets to making the most gods-forsaken wasteland a verdant garden paradise - and the colourful sorceress with authority issues pursuing her.

Goal: Secure the Alcazar of Twelve Ewers

Obstacles:
Name [Number of Points to Overcome] (Notes)
We Don't Know Where We're Going [2] (Possible solutions: Steal Zahur's map. Copy her map. Independently discover the location through research, divination, or communing with spirits. Join or tail one of the expeditions. etc)
Overcome the Guardian Beasts [2] (Possible solutions: Petition a martial arts school or great family to escort you. Participate in your own ritual hunt to secure the favour of the Lady of the Forest. Ignore the ward, defeating any Guardian Beasts that attack you on your way. Invent your own ward in defiance of the Lady.)
Solve the Puzzle to Bypass the Wards OR Defeat the Guardian [3]
Neutralize Zahur, Vessel of Sekhenun [4] (Prevent them from interfering with your plans by making them an ally, intimidating them, killing them, incapacitating them, deceiving them, distracting them, etc)
Neutralize Thamina Al-A'zam, Associate Magister-Errant of the Ministry of Life [4] (Prevent them from interfering with your plans by making them an ally, intimidating them, killing them, incapacitating them, deceiving them, distracting them, etc)

Hazel:
You travelled far to reach Achaea, guided by a teardrop pendant of amber strung on a thin moonsilver chain. When held up to the light of the sun it refracts a needle of light that unerringly points in the direction of your Solar bondmate. It can hardly be a coincidence that the tea leaves foretold you would travel in the direction the amulet now unerringly points. Surely this Golden Queen of the Sands whose glory is foretold must be your mate.

Who gave you the amulet?

You don't have two eighths of a dinar to rub together, but this is a trifling obstacle for the blessed of Luna. You follow a solitary path across moonlit dunes, passed teeming cities lit from above by arcs of shining light between towers that hang is if weightless in the sky, through seemingly endless fields overflowing with grain and barley, amongst dense orchards that hang heavy and redolent with pomegranate and persimmon, burrowing under the earth during the day, only braving the pitiless and unrelenting light of the sun when far from settlements, until you reach a seemingly insurmountable obstacle in a wall of rock crowned by staggeringly immense trees that seem to brush the sky. Some great and primal force must have pulled this sheer vertical cliff face from the earth, and the prospect of burrowing up it is daunting to say the least.

Thankfully you are not the first to face this challenge. As you approach the river you are awestruck by the spectacular Tiama Falls, amidst whose thick rolling mist - ambrosia to desert-parched lips - and thunderous roar felt in the bones as much as heard, hundreds of river boats and barges line up to enter water-filled elevators as they cyclically rise and fall. In a quicksilver flash and a few graceful hops you're aboard a beautiful passenger vessel and safely nestled in the shadows to conceal your own with none the wiser. A few minutes later a team of slaves heaves on a great chain to close the gate behind the half dozen ships that have entered this White Jade artificial pond and with a signal from the foreman it begins its ascent. Two hundred metre tall statues tirelessly pull on immense White Jade chains to lift you like so many children's toys though the mist, passed the immense Jade and Orichalcum prayer wheels spun by the descending waters and the mist-cloaked city of Tiama where the chanting of the monks can be faintly heard over the roar of the falls.

Cats are sacred and welcome stowaways. Who offered you succor aboard the ship?

1. A lonely woman in a white veil and crimson robes emblazoned with a golden jackal-headed canopic jar, what must be a dozen scrolls in a bag hanging from her hip, surrounded by a trio of three metre tall six-armed creatures clad from head to toe in vibrantly dyed purple linen and smelling of frankincense. The other passengers give her a very wide berth. [Meet Zahur, Vessel of Sekhenun. She will confide something she probably shouldn't to a cat that keeps her company.]
2. A mysterious woman riding in a large four-legged lotus blossom surrounded by dancing faerie lights. Banners depict a black tree on a white background, roots intertwined with a white tree descending against a black background. The roots of both entwine an anatomical diagram of a heart, becoming its veins and arteries. To your expert eye the living carriage is clearly a Sorcerous Working of incredible craftsmanship and beauty. The passengers keep a respectful distance and bow when they pass. [Meet Thamina Al-A'zam, Associate Magister-Errant of the Ministry of Life. She will give you a token of her affection that commands respect in many circles if you please her.]
3. The swarthy captain of the ship, with sun-browned skin, calloused hands, and deep wrinkles from a perennial smile, all earned over a long and storied career traversing the Achaea. [A very useful contact for navigating waterways and supplying expeditions.]
4. An athletic young man sitting seiza and drinking tea on the prow of the ship, nervously trying to ignore the many admirers clamoring for his attention. Wickedly sharp bronze claws sit on the deck behind him. His loose gi and many scars and tattoos suggest a martial artist. [Perhaps the Tiger School could use a new mascot? An in with the Martial Arts world of Locura]
5. Someone else. Who?

At the zenith the elevator is unhooked from the chain and deposited into a placid pond separated from the rushing waters near the precipice of the falls. The captain haggles briefly with local water elementals before one of the great jewelled turtles agrees to haul the ship through the treacherous waters before the falls into calmer waters where the teams of rowers can again take over. Another half day of hard rowing beneath the great canopy of titanic trees, under arcing root-bridges crowned with their own forests, and through immense stone canals spanning verdant valleys sees you arrive at the ironwood docks of Javurwa. You spend much of it either in shadow on the deck or belowdecks, being careful to dart across patches of direct sunlight that make it through the canopy only when no one is looking.

The neighbourhood-boughs of the great tree above are a frenetic hive of activity this close to the Falling Blossoms Festival. Gatherers eat the blessed Monkeyfruit to gain the miraculous ability of Woodwalking, running sideways or upside down along networks of ropes that span neat and orderly branches hanging heavy with exotic fruits, vegetables, herbs, and spices. They use bladed sticks to cut free the harvest while others work in groups carrying nets underneath to catch it as it falls. Skyfruit allows them to make great soaring leaps between branches and clusters of ropes. Between them they make swift progress in gathering a veritable cornucopia that Hazel sees arrayed before her in dizzying splendor, ready to be loaded onto hundreds of waiting barges by giant orangutan-like beasts of burden, baskets strapped to their backs and bundles slung under their muscular arms.

Deeper into the great market her amulet guides her, until she reaches a broad causeway between two ziggurat-temples, several massive roots of the heart tree having long ago pierced them both to create arcing bridges. Along each tier of the temples are busy shops and taberna slinging food and drink to hungry dockworkers and traders alike. As Hazel weaves through the dense crowds, haranguing cries of hawkers, and mouthwatering scents from a hundred grills, she is led unerringly through multi-storey arcades carved into the roots, where establishments open onto balconies overlooking the busy market below. Here amongst the crowds, the shadows of tall buildings, and the sheltering canopy above, concealing her shadow is relatively easy. The few odd looks from passersby can be ignored as they're quickly swept away by the crowd before they can investigate further. In pride of place at the apex of one of the largest roots, with a spectacular view of the markets and the docks, she at last arrives at her destination and feels the undeniable tug on her soul as she lays eyes on her prize. Now only a single obstacle stands before her: The line of hungry lunchtime patrons that stretches out the door and down the arcade.

---

Spoiler: Kasra

Aspect: Fire
Essence: 2; Willpower: 7; Join Battle: 7 dice (+3 for 3m)
Personal: 13, Peripheral: 26
Health Levels: −0x2/−1x3/−2x3/−4x2/Incap.
Actions: Cooking: 8 dice (+5 dice for 5m); Feats of Strength: 7 dice (+2 successes for 4m, may attempt Strength 3 feats); Dance: 8 dice (+2 successes for 4m); Read Intentions: 7 dice (+2 successes for 4m); Resist Poison/Disease: 7 dice (+4 for 4m); Gambling 8 dice (+5 dice for 5m); I Know a (Probably Shady) Guy/Navigate the Underworld (Uh, not that Underworld, the mundane one): 8 dice (+5 dice for 5m);

Appearance 3
Resolve 3 (+1 for 2m)
Guile 3 (+2 for 4m)

Aspects
Dreams of Grandeur
Princess of Pepper
I Know a (Sketchy) Guy
Gambling Problem

Kasra's hair:

John:
John, by contrast, has travelled not far at all, having grown up in Javurwa, and his apartment being mere blocks from the BAR. For all that it is short, his journey remains remarkably eventful. As the most handsome man in his neighbourhood (and perhaps the entire city, if you listen to his admirers), a successful business owner, well educated, and a divine chef, to say John is an eligible bachelor would be something of an understatement. His daily walk to and from the BAR is something of a community institution, filled with a laughably improbable number of chance encounters, gifts from hopeful parents and admirers, and forlorn sighs, smiles, and winks from pretty girls and even some boys working the shops and markets along the way. Some of which he strongly suspects took the jobs precisely because they're on his route to work.

Finally - having somehow acquired some lovely fresh mangoes, a ceramic jar of chutney sealed with wax, and a nice linen shirt along the way - he arrives at the BAR, where Kasra is dishing up lunchtime orders with theatrical flair. Her eyes smolder like embers burning low after a night of celebration, an invitation to sit down for one last drink before the dawn and the responsibilities it heralds. Her ashblow hair billows, a cloud of thick black smoke wreathing her face. Her every motion has the graceful precision of a professional dancer coupled with the practicality of a practiced chef with a lot of orders to fill. An economy of motion that wastes no effort, but an eye for the dramatic that ensures that of two roughly equally efficient options the most spectacular always wins.

She sweeps her hand under a dozen woks to ignite flames beneath them, sears the outside of skewered meat to lock in flavour with a brush of her fingertips, cooks meat evenly to exactly the right temperature in seconds, brings broth to a boil with a glance, and cooks and sears vegetables while she dices with glowing hot knives. In time to the rhythm of the upbeat tune she hums absently she slings steaming bowls across the kitchen to customers at the bar with alternating hands. A display that would be considerably more impressive if she threw the correct dish to the correct customer.

"Hey, this isn't the venison cutlet!" cries one customer, outing himself as a new patron. The regulars are already laughing.

"What, do I have to do everything around here?" Kasra calls back. All the regulars recite along in a chorus as she continues, "You have eyes and tongues, sort it out!"

By this point everyone's familiar with the ritual. If you sit at the bar you get front row seats to the show, but you never know whose order you're going to get. You can then meet your fellow patrons by trading until you get your order - assuming it isn't too appetizing for the recipient to give it up! - or just enjoy trying something unexpected.

Kasra spots you enter and, glancing over the kitchen to make sure everything is in a good state to be left unattended for a few moments, steps up to the edge of the bar to meet you with a conspiratorial grin. Small wisps of smoke tumble over her lips as she speaks, "Hey, boss. You hear the news?" A rhetorical question if you've ever heard one, as she doesn't so much as take a breath before proceeding, "No? Gotta get out more. An exciting arrival at the docks today. Some bigwig Necromancer from downriver. 'Abzu. Her bodyguards're freakin' people right out, but she's throwing around silver like it's going out of style, planning a trip out into the jungle, so she's been attracting some interest. Anyway, I need a favour. You read a lot of old books, right? Like old old? You ever seen something that looks like this before?"

From a pocket in her apron she pulls a very well rendered drawing of what looks to be the cap of a scroll case protruding from a bag hanging at someone's hip. It has an inscription running around the edge in Old Realm and a twelve-armed goddess pouring an ewer full of water with each hand. The waters from the ewers form the characters of the inscription. In typical Old Realm fashion it can be read in many ways, but it seems to be the motto of some kind of organization. "We [create/make/build] [life/dreams/light] so [all/together we/our people] might [flourish/stand against darkness/defy chaos]." You feel like there are probably other meanings, too, but you've never been much of a poet and Old Realm is a notoriously tricky language.

Do you recognize the symbol? If so, where did you see it?

[Pass - This is an establishing shot. The important information about the existence of the map has been delivered. This is a chance for John to meet Hazel, Hazel to maybe meet someone briefly on her way here, and optionally for Kasra to establish her interest in stealing the map if that's a path John & Hazel want to take. Kasra can bring Zahur to the BAR if desired, as Zahur is looking for both a place to stay and to eat, and it's easy to sell what's probably the best restaurant in the neighbourhood.

If you opt not to recognize the symbol you're setting yourself up for a research montage to uncover its origins, or to meet a contact who does.]

 

[Random Word]

Spoiler: Metagame Notes

Next up I think I'll do Psychie and Sherwood. These take a while, so bear with me. This game won't necessarily go fast since I'm making most everything up as I go. I'm going to assume their silence on the subject of what they want to do, but eagerness to get started, reflects a desire for me to just pick something already Random for them so they can get to hitting the bad things.

Morrolan and Renna will be hired by a woman with all the subtlety and tact of a thunderbolt and a soft spoken man to storm the mountain war manse Hall of Enduring Silence and cast down its Eight-Forged King and his army of Dev to free the people of Kabir - and more importantly, their deep veins of precious tin.

Goal: Put the name Red Arms Company on the lips of every notable in the Principate, and get paid doing it.
Obstacles:
Name [Number of Points to Overcome] (Notes)
Traverse the Desert [2] (Possible approaches: Hire sandships to carry you, show off your survival skills, make a pact with a supernatural benefactor, etc. The desert is harsh, and without preparation crossing it will cost lives.)
A Ferocious Army of Dev [4] (The Eight-Forged King's army of Dev are spread out over the countryside pillaging. You could defeat them in detail fairly easily, at significant cost to the populace, or try to cause them to form up for pitched battle to stop them from doing more harm.)
Neutralize The Lord of Ash [2] (The only Sorcerer amongst the Eight-Forged King's retinue. Draw him out in one of your battles to kill him, distract him, assassinate him, or otherwise prevent him from interfering by summoning demons.)
The Hall of Enduring Silence [2] (Its great gates and heavy fortifications make a direct assault costly, but more frightening still are its breath-stealing enchantments, and its ability to summon vicious sandstorms.)
Neutralize The Eight-Forged King [4] (Cow, murder, drive off, etc.)

Renna & Morrolan:
The Diamond Road is an essential trade link for a huge swath of the South, an ancient elevated road paved with ochre stone, with an unpaved path of clay along one shoulder for unshod animals. A roadside shrine with a monk secluded in prayer and supplication sits beside the road every ten kilometres, with a larger temple and rest stop every hundred. Together, their chanting, prayers, and the offerings left by travellers wards the road against the relentless fury of the sun, keeping travellers relatively cool and the road largely impervious to wear and tear over the centuries.

The cavalry of the Red Arms Company ride down the clay path clad in the brightly coloured fashions of a hundred noble houses from nearly as many nations, while the soldiers walk down the paved road in a dignified but practical uniform, half in front of the supply train and half behind. All across the company fly pennants to commemorate a hundred famous victories worthy of song. Two Yeddim - Lucy and Varthai - haul the largest of the wagons, one the company's treasury - which you were careful to secure quickly when you led the rebellion - and the other the smithy, while donkeys haul the rest of the extensive baggage train. Several hundred camp followers march between the wagons: blacksmiths of course, fletchers and carpenters, prostitutes and priests, cooks and servants, and even some families. Anyone who feels like they can make a living offering services to the soldiers, or who can't bear to be apart from them.

To Renna, being in the saddle comes as easily as breathing. Remarkably, two weeks of riding Asha bareback down the Diamond Road hasn't given you so much as a single saddle-sore, though you can't say the same for the mortals under your command. You can hear them quietly bemoaning exactly how uncomfortable they are whenever they think themselves out of earshot. As for Morrolan, you were tough as nails before you drew your Second Breath, and a veteran of more than a decade of long marches. Now your body seems almost indestructible, and you feel like you could march from here to the Pole of Fire and back without stopping to rest. It's at once inspiring and infuriating to your men, some of whom have taken to walking outside the protective wards of the road for a few minutes to remind themselves just how hot the sun really is, so that when they step back inside they feel just a little bit cooler.

Spoiler: Master of Skirmishers Rogosh Eagle Eye

Aspect: Wood
Essence: 2; Willpower: 6; Join Battle: 8 dice (+4 for 4m) Personal: 13; Peripheral: 26
Health Levels: −0/−1x2/−2x6/−4/Incap.
Actions: Command: 8 dice (+4 dice for 4m); Read Intentions: 7 dice (+2 successes for 4m); Resist Poison/Disease (7 dice, +2 successes for 4m); Senses: 9 dice (+5 for 5m); Social Influence: 6 dice (+1 success for 2m); Stealth: 9 dice (+2 successes for +4 motes)
Appearance 2, Resolve 4 (+2 for 4m), Guile 3 (+2 for 4m)

Combat
Attack (Devil Render, green jade daiklave): 11 dice (+6 for 6m, Damage 14L/5)
Attack (Dawnbreaker, green jade short powerbow): 13 dice at short range (+6 for 6m, Damage 13L/3)
Attack (Unarmed): 9 dice (+4 for 4m, Damage 9B)
Attack (Grapple): 5 dice (+4 dice for 4m; 5 dice to control, +2 for 2m)
Combat Movement: 8 dice (+4 for 4m)
Evasion: 4 (+2 for 4m), Parry: 7 (+3 for 6m)
Soak/Hardness: 6/0 (Breastplate)

Aspects:
Grizzled Veteran
Eagle Eyed Shadow
The Ends Justify the Means
Vengeful

Spoiler: Master of Horse Wisdom's Star

Aspects:
Starry Eyed
Meticulous Planner
Socialite
Unshakable Faith

Spoiler: Quartermaster Mai Yanxing

Aspects:
Ex-Guildsman
Enterprising
Improbably Well Connected
No Stomach for Violence
Political Animal

The two of you walk, Company Captain Renna mounted on Asha and Master of Foot Morrolan, at the head of the column surrounded by several of the other senior officers for the evening briefing. Master of Skirmishers Rogosh Eagle Eye, breastplate of black Chiaroscuran glass with a matte grease spread over it to prevent reflections and glare, his hair offering an excellent impersonation of sunbleached scrub brush, the great Powerbow Dawnbreaker (He's asked, hesitatingly, if you'd like him to see if the storied weapon wouldn't mind unduly having its name changed.) over his back and the Daiklave Devil Render at his hip. Master of Horse Wisdom's Star rides beside Renna, her neck as ever craned backwards to examine the evening sky, the stars barely visible against the light of the setting sun. You swear, one of these days she's going to trip and die trying to stargaze and walk at the same time, but somehow it hasn't happened yet. Mars-Born with Jupiter Ascendant, she claims it's in her nature to plan for every eventuality, and she firmly believes she'll find them all somewhere up there in the sky. Perhaps if she's lucky she'll see the day she trips and dies coming. Quartermaster Mai Yanxing brings up the rear in Nexus finery of gold silk brocade with crimson accents, smoking her pipe, tallying accounts on her abacus, and checking results with her scribes as she rides.

Wisdom's Star's endless stargazing seems to pay off as she observes absently with some irritation, "Something obscures the fourth element of the Gauntlet." Rogosh gives her a look of flat disbelief, but turns to look regardless and his eyes briefly go wide before narrowing. He holds his hand to his brow to block out more of the light from the setting sun and stares intently for the span of several heartbeats before sucking his breath between his teeth. "Ahlat's Horns, she's right. There's a skyship approaching from the East, Sir. I wouldn't believe it if I didn't see it with mine own pair."

You call a halt, and prepare the troops for a skirmish, just in case. Soldiers grumble under their breath as they have to step out onto the hot sands to take up formation, but none hesitate to obey, and at least the sun is setting. You aren't expecting violence here, not so far from the front of the little Realm Civil War to the North, but it is the nature of violence to strike where you least expect it. "If the Wyld Hunt has managed to commandeer a skyship and send it this far South, I'll eat my shirt," declares Quartermaster Yanxing, unperturbed. "Curious locals, I'd wager. What are we, half a day's march out from the Principate?"

"Less, I think," offers Wisdom's Star. "I've had ostentatious welcomes before, but never has anyone sent a skyship to greet me. I'm moving up in the world on your auspicious coattails, Captain."

As the skyship approaches, you see it looks like someone took two riverboats and laid them deck to deck, with six pairs of immense feathered wings to provide lift. Where there would be banks of oars there are instead firing ports for archers and javelin throwers. The hull is painted shining white with a symbol emblazoned boldly on the side in crimson that looks like a city enfolded protectively in a pair of feathered wings that emerge from a tower behind it. It flies low as it approaches, at an oblique angle that limits its ability to fire at all of you, perhaps as a gesture of good will. It comes to a stop about two hundred metres down the road from your position, beating wings kicking up a cloud of sand beneath it. A doorway opens in the side of the hull with several figures standing inside, a woman with a wild shock of golden hair dressed in a white and crimson uniform standing at the front. Moments later there's a sharp crack as she vanishes, followed almost instantly by the boom of thunder as a bolt of lightning arcs out of the doorway and down to the road, the woman materializing again where it strikes.

She calls out in a voice that booms like thunder, clearly magically amplified, "I am Magister-Militant Saeiqa Al-Sayf of the Sassarin Principate. I would speak to your commanding officer." She holds out her arms, as if to demonstrate she has no weapons, though you seriously doubt that makes her any less dangerous. A half dozen other figures descend ropes that fall from the centre of the hull.

Rogosh spits into the sand, disgusted, "Sorcerer." A soft murmur of disquiet goes up amongst the soldiers closest to the front. He turns to Morrolan, "Would you like me to go find out what it wants, Sir, or shall I just put an arrow through it from here and save us the trouble?"

Spoiler: Magister-Militant Saeiqa Al-Sayf of the Ministry of War

Appearance 3 - Not beautiful by any classical definition, but striking.
Resolve 7
Guile 1

Aspects
Subtlety and Tact of a Thunderbolt
???
???
???

[Hold - We still need to establish the job and whether you accept, but we can flash forward to violence as soon as you decide to sign on the dotted line - or if you attack Saeiqa, of course.]

 

[Random Word]

Spoiler: Metagame Notes

Okay, let's see...

A Kheru [A title roughly equivalent to Prince] of the powerful Fayum Clan - to whom the Hematti nominally owe fealty - has been captured by the Bintanath Clan when they chanced upon his sandship while he was exploring a newly exposed ruin. Ordinarily the Kheru would be ransomed back quickly, but a powerful Jinn of the Bintanath has reportedly taken a liking to the Kheru - admittedly famed for his beauty nearly as much as his penchant for getting himself into trouble - and is demanding he wed her. The Bintanath are in an awkward position - they cannot easily refuse the demands of such a powerful Jinn, but they don't fancy their chances in a war against the Fayum. To complicate matters further, the Kheru was betrothed to one of your young highborn captains, a delicate negotiation that took much doing on your father's part, and the young captain, incensed at the slight, may do something reckless. The Bintanath have sent a delegation to petition you to help negotiate a peaceful settlement, offering to show you the location of the ruins and promising that whatever the Kheru found is far more valuable than his hand. If you do intend to get him back, time is of the essence - rare is the mortal who can resist the advances of a potent Jinn for long, and soon he may not wish to return. Alternatively, if negotiations fail and the Fayum call their banners this offers an excellent pretext for war that could see the Hematti claim valuable trade routes, slaves, plunder, and influence.

This is a nice establishing scene. There's a call to action, it introduces some NPCs, establishes the Hematti and their relationships with two immediate neighbours, and ticks off lots of Flags.

Atusa:
A Township feels like a living, breathing thing when in motion. When still it feels dead and lifeless, and this is perhaps fitting as your people would likely join it in death soon after. Each Township is composed of hundreds of large durable ironwood platforms interlinked by rope netting and canvas, each independently buoyed above the sands beneath by the howling winds tamed by Djinn bound by blood and centuries old oaths. A complex network of masts, rigging, cantilevers, and countermasses support multi-storey structures that undulate and sway as each platform crests the dunes, but never collide. Above them all are large white sails into which the Djinn drive the wind, and above even these fly hundreds of brightly coloured decorative kites and the great white kites that carry eagle-eyed scouts high above the Township to watch for distant dangers. Not all 'rooms' have solid walls or even floors, canvas and linen tents being lightweight, breathable, and easy to reconfigure to suit changing needs, and fabric or netting floors being sufficient for everything from storage areas to barracks, where most sleep in rows and stacks of hammocks.

This is your Township. There are many like it, but this one is yours. What is it called?

Your chambers have a floor and three walls of beautifully polished imported mahogany, a ceiling mosaic of bright ceramic tiles depicting your clan's founder making their first pact with a Djinn, small shrines to many deities with pride of place given to the Unconquered Sun, and an actual feather bed strewn with pillows. You've heard Nomarch Chuma Fayum commissioned a Sorcerer in Kibrat Erbettim [Capital of the Principate and the location of Ain Soph Aur] to weave him a bed of clouds. That's a little bit rich for your blood, but maybe someday you'll one up him. Where there would be a fourth wall your chamber opens onto the Canyon of Blessed Wind, the tall chamber that runs from bow to stern of every Township, open to the winds on both sides. As the ship moves wind rushes through the canyon and the columns of stacked prayer wheels it contains, each column affixed to several windmills of white canvas and ironwood by gear assemblies that drive its endless rotation. The prayer wheel closest to your quarters is the newest addition, and while it may not be the most beautiful - yet - it is the one you are most proud of, for you made it yourself from pieces salvaged from the first two floors of the White-Gold Sepulchre. The early morning sun glints beautifully off the orichalcum inscriptions extolling His virtues as it spins. It will take some doing yet to change your people's perception of the Unconquered Sun from a merciless danger to be feared and appeased to a benevolent force for good in their lives, but you are tenacious and extremely persuasive. A heavy linen curtain can be pulled across the open wall when you seek privacy, and a blessing of the Djinn ensures the wind and sand passing through the Canyon never enters - nor sounds exit.

Spoiler: Sirocco

Essence 3; Willpower 4; Join Battle: 9 dice; Personal: 80
Health Levels: −0x3/−1x2/−2x2/−4/Incap.
Actions: Wind Instruments: 9 dice; Read Intentions: 8 dice; Senses: 8 dice; Inflaming Passions: 11 dice; Social Influence: 6 dice

Appearance 4
Guile 3
Resolve 2

Aspects:
Hopeless Romantic
Flighty
Hell Hath No Fury
Intensely Curious

It would be unseemly for even a Nomarch to use water profligately, and so as part of your rituals in preparation for holding court your handmaidens Buiku and Gyasi bathe you with sponges imported from Locura and soaked in fragrant rosewater. Firelight flickers and soft music wafts through the silk curtain that divides your washbasin from the rest of your chambers, behind which the Djinn Sirocco, currently assigned to protect and entertain you, plays her flute. In her humanoid form she's lithe and athletic, composed of a combination of rippling heat-shimmer silhouettes and dancing flame, her eyes shining with such a burning curiosity it can be difficult to meet her gaze for more than a few moments. Without her blessing, the intense heat she radiates is intolerable, with it a comforting warmth in any climate.

"Dakarai [One of your captains, betrothed to Kheru Hasani Fayum] is going to be absolutely livid when she returns," Buiku gossips gleefully as she washes you.

"Buiku! How would you feel if your husband was captured by the enemy, and then ran off with a Djinn?" asks Gyasi, aghast.

Buiku gives Gyasi an incredulous look before laughing, "Relieved!"

"Imagine he wasn't a drunken lout, but instead Kheru Hasani."

"Alright, I might be a little bit disappointed, but better he run off with a Djinn than a human. Less of a blow to the ego."

Sirocco finishes her song and interjects, her voice the music of wind whistling through a canyon, "He will be happier with Aejej. It was love at first sight," her sigh of longing is a beautiful sound that puts her flute to shame, "She will love him like no human could. Radiance Atusa, I want a beautiful prince, too. Bring one to me and earn my undying love." If you had a dinar for every time you've earned Sirocco's undying love your whole clan could retire in luxury. Thankfully her attention span is short enough that if you don't swear to cater to her latest whimsical demand she's liable to forget she ever made the request by midday. An oath, however, she will take seriously and you'll never hear the end of it.

Gyasi huffs, "For all of a day until she gets bored of him."

Sirocco sighs dreamily, "And what a day it shall be! All the more reason to capture the fleeting moment with legend and song. What is it you say? 'Better to have loved and lost than never loved at all'."

Gyasi sighs, exasperated. "But what will he do afterwards?" she demands.

Sirocco looks perplexed, "I don't understand. Whatever he pleases, I imagine."

"Exactly. You don't understand," Gyasi replies, triumphant.

As she finishes washing you Buiku clears her throat, "Okay Sirocco, do your thing. And if we're handing out handsome princes, I'll take one, too." Sirocco dissolves into a squall of hot air that rushes under the curtain to envelop you, drying you from head to toe in seconds before departing the same way she came. Your handmaidens then begin the painstaking process of dressing you for court.

How do your servants dress you for holding court?

"You look so beautiful, Radiance!" exclaims Buiku, "I wish I had hair like yours."

Gyasi nods, "And your skin is always perfect. As if we need any more evidence you're beloved by the Gods."

Your court has many functionaries: the Keeper of the Amphoras who watches over the sacred water supplies, the Captain's Council, the Council of Elders, the Great Flame, and the Divine Wind, amongst others. What does your throne room look like?

The white-robed members of your personal guard come to attention and Guard Captain Gahiji, a grizzled old veteran of more engagements with the Raksha than there are grains of sand in the desert, announces you as you enter, the susurrus in the hall quieting instantly, "Her Radiance Atusa, Nomarch of the Hematti, Chosen of White-Fire Judgement, Slayer of Subahar, Warden of the Seventh Great Duneway. May her blade never dull, her hold ever be as full as her sails, and her reign be eternal!" The assembled court enthusiastically echoes the chant. You scarcely need be announced anymore, so irresistible the almost magnetic force that pulls all eyes to you the moment you step into a room, let alone speak. It's almost supernatural - even those who should by all rights be oblivious to your presence by chance glance up just in time to see others craning to see your entrance. All except your personal guard and your entourage prostrate themselves swiftly, only rising once you take your seat.

Captain Gahiji stands to the right of your throne, Sirocco kneels to the left, and the rest of your entourage find their place amongst the attendants, all resplendent in their best finery. At a gesture from you Gahiji again addresses the court, "The first petitioner may approach!"

What follows is a seemingly interminable stream of petty disputes between highborn families, tribute presented by returning captains, adjudications on water allotments, petitions to declare vendettas, and allocations of lucrative trade routes or prospecting grounds to favoured vassals, until the moment the court has been impatiently awaiting all morning: Ambassador Sebua Bintanath is, after a humbling wait, permitted to approach.

Spoiler: Ambassador Sebua Bintanath

Appearance 2
Guile 4
Resolve 3

His charming smile stands alone in a chamber of expressions ranging from guarded neutrality to outright hostility. He knows he's been snubbed on an already difficult assignment, but he doesn't let his worry show. "Your Radiance," he says with a flourishing bow, "It is, as always, a singular pleasure to attend you. I come on behalf of Nomarch Khaemwaset Bintanath bearing water, gifts - A trained Simurgh, bottled lightning, and eternal ice -, and an offer." A procession of crew carry the gifts forward as he speaks: A large amphora of water carried by two [To bring your own water is a position of neutrality with no obligations either way. To bring less water than you need is to claim a position of superiority, obliging your host to supply the difference. To bring more water than you need and gift the excess to your host says you come from a position of inferiority and respect. The Bintanath are a larger clan than the Hematti, so this is a gesture of contrition.], a gilded cage holding a large bird with feathers shining red and gold, a pillow piled with small glass bottles containing shining balls of lightning, and finally a small ornately carved ivory box containing that rarest of delicacies: A small perfectly formed cube of everlasting ice. Each are placed in turn with the pile of tribute you've received today. "It is our humble hope you feel them worthy reflections of your majesty and our gratitude for your consideration of a peaceful resolution to this most delicate of matters." He remains bowed until you give some signal to rise.

Gahiji leans toward you and whispers in your ear, "Radiance. The kites report Captain Dakarai's sandship approaches. What would you have us do with her when she arrives?"

[Hold, since I'm not sure what Atusa's Goal will be yet.]

 

[Random Word]

Hazel:

Spoiler: Zahur, Vessel of Sekhenun

Zahur:
Essence 1; Willpower 8; Join Battle: 5 dice;
Health Levels: −0x1/−1x2/−2x2/−4/Incap.
Actions: ???

Appearance 1
Guile 2
Resolve 4

Aspects:
???

Vessel of Sekhenun, Fourth Pharaoh of Ea-Abzu:
Essence 5; Willpower 9; Join Battle: 12 dice; Personal: 110
Health Levels: −0x1/−1x2/−2x2/−4/Incap.
Actions: ???

Appearance 1
Guile 4
Resolve 7

Aspects:
???

You identify the least populated section of deck on your destination ship, leaping gracefully from a passing sampan peddling fresh fruit and other commestibles to vessels stuck waiting in line to land on the railing, then bounding down into the shadow of the superstructure without anyone noticing you. It becomes immediately and alarmingly evident why this entire half of the deck is empty as you lay eyes on the one notable exception. Surrounded by three tall, thin, six armed forms wrapped head to toe in purple linen such that not an inch of skin is visible sits a small woman - a girl, really - in a long crimson robe decorated with a golden jackal-headed canopic jar, her face covered with golden veils. She sits on a cushion before a low table with a bag of what appears to be scrolls hanging from a belt at her side, one of which is unrolled on the table before her. A second low table sits beside the first, laden with half of an immense breakfast.

Curiosity may have killed the cat, but you aren't dead yet, and her half-eaten breakfast fit for half a dozen smells delicious even over the thick scent of frankincense coming off her towering guardians. As you approach you get a better look at both her and her guardians, and realize with some alarm that all you smell inside the linen wrappings are old bones. Judging by the light that filters through their wrappings, bones too thick to be human. The bones are bound together to create three metre tall war machines, armed with shield, spear, four scimitars, and javelins besides, all in shining bronze, all currently sheathed. Little wonder the rest of the passengers have opted to cede the front half of the ship.

The girl herself is much less intimidating, both small in stature and sleight of frame. She's carefully, painstakingly writing something in the scroll before her, and much to your surprise the scroll is writing back. The bone constructs ignore you as you pad closer to get a better look, and you are perplexed to see what appears to be a basic flametongue writing exercise, poorly done. The scroll is displaying characters of the alphabet, and the girl is trying to recreate them while the scroll offers corrections and helpful advice. She looks up suddenly and you both freeze as your eyes meet.

Beneath the waif's veils you can make out a sallow, almost emaciated face decorated with elaborate arcane tattoos and marred by some unfortunate scars. She can't be any older than you. You've seen faces like this, growing up in Greyfalls. Too many of them, maybe. If there's one group that even orphaned street urchins count themselves lucky to be above, it's those slaves set to hard labour in the plantations and mines. She's put on weight, but you would recognize someone once on the edge of starvation anywhere. You don't need her to take off her robes to see the scars that almost certainly criss cross her back in your mind's eye.

Her eyes widen, "Kitty! Oh, you look so soft and fluffy, not like the cats in the fields. They bite. You're not going to bite me, are you? Maybe if I feed you..." she turns and looks over the spread laid out on the table beside her, selecting a small earthenware platter with an untouched fillet of grilled fish, and oh so slowly, gently extending it out towards you, as if one wrong move might send you scampering away. "Are you hungry? Please be hungry. It's okay if you bite," she implores softly, "just don't run away. Please."

 

[Random Word]

Atusa:
Gahiji looks unamused as he enters the meeting room where you sit with light refreshments. "Dakarai is a raging sandstorm. She could not be trusted to behave herself at court, and refused to wait, so we restrained her. We will bring her to account for herself at your leisure."

Ambassador Sebua is ushered into the room by your personal guard shortly thereafter, and prostrates himself until you instruct him to rise. "Your Radiance, thank you for granting my humble request. I bring tidings from Nomarch Khaemwaset Bintanath. Blessed are the winds, for they carry change this season. These winds of change carried us when we found something amongst the shifting sands that is precious beyond measure. Jealous hands will undoubtedly grasp for it, and we will need the strength to demonstrate their place is not so high above us as it once was. The gods smile upon us in this, for we did not find one such treasure, but two. We are daring, and brave, but not so foolhardy as to think we can do this alone. We are generous to our allies, and would be honoured to count the Hematti amongst them. Nomarch Khaemwaset recognizes there is blood between our people, but he believes this was at the behest of hands on high, and that in clashing we have established a level of mutual respect that may become the foundation for a strong future in a world where the only hands who guide us are our own."

"My lord understands this is not a decision to be made lightly. He asks only that you consider it, and offers a standing invitation to meet to discuss terms."

[The implication is clear: The Bintanath have found something they believe is so powerful their lords the Yafeu would seize it immediately, and thus they are presented with three choices: Hide it and thus gain little, surrender it meekly, or fight for it. This find will make them significantly more powerful, but not powerful enough to rebel against the Yafeu and risk a war against the Hematti and Fayum. The ambassador implies an alliance of the Hematti and Bintanath, coupled with whatever this is, might be enough to defy both the Yafeu and Fayum, winning independence and becoming a new major power.]


Hazel:
Zahur bundles you up in her arms and sits you on her lap before the table, the platter of fish beside you, and pets you happily as you purr. "Oh, you are so soft! And so pretty. I'm happy you're here. I'm going to call you Bes, because you bring joy. Hello, Bes. I'm Zahur." She shakes your paw and beams at you. "Everyone else is scared of me, but not you." She sighs and her mood shifts, suddenly despondent, "I didn't think this was going to be so... lonely." She continues quietly, "Can I tell you a secret, Bes? You can't tell anyone. I'm really not sure I can do this. A lot of people are going to starve if I don't. I promised I was up to it. Sekhi," she looks briefly mortified, "Don't tell her I called her that, okay? My enlightened ancestor is counting on me, but I've never been this far from home before, everyone here hates me, and this is the easy part."

She looks up at the falls with wonder and trepidation, "I know I can call on her for help, but she's so busy, and important, and wonderful -" her face lights up as she speaks, "Oh! Bes, look at this!" She lifts you up so your front paws are on the desk and you're right above the scroll she was working on. Up close and personal you can see the scroll isn't made of paper at all, but some kind of cloth-of-moonsilver weave with a lengthy embossed inscription in Old Realm around the borders. From only the fragments you can see you recognize an archaic prayer to Phyre, the Third Eye Pyramid, the aspect of Luna devoted to wisdom and guidance, shining light on dark and hidden roads. You can see a stylized variant of its symbol on the end caps of the umbilicus around which the scroll is wound. It's beautiful, and almost certainly priceless. Zahur grasps her quill, which has no ink on it, and continues her writing exercise as you watch, "Can you believe it? An enlightened ancestor is teaching me how to read and write," she says this with such awe that it's clear this carries some kind of deep cultural significance, "Like a real person." You have a sneaking suspicion this artifact was designed to do something more significant than teach children literacy, but it's doing an admirable job regardless, guiding with boundless patience and skillful instruction.

"Everyone in my family took the Gate during exam night. I always stubbornly sat staring at those letters in the hopes they'd make sense. Eventually I got so fed up I yelled at Hanama," she sounds incredulous at her own audacity, "to teach me how to read it, but she just stared at me with those cold eyes and said nothing. I hate her. Sekhi says I could have been a Sorcerer, can you believe it, Bes? That Hanama betrayed me, and failed in her duty. That once I learn to read, and a bunch of other things, she can teach me Necromancy. Then, some day, I'm going to sit the Assay again - I know we aren't supposed to any more, don't tell anyone - and I'm going to get all the questions right, and when Hanama invites me to Ain Soph Aur, I'm going to tell her to fuck off, because my mistress is better. She actually cares about me. I'm a real person to her," she declares this with such vehemence her quill snaps in her hand.

Erembour stirs fitfully from her slumber deep in the prison within your soul, muttering something in her sleep, "This one has a Mara-beloved darkness sleeping in her shadow, cursed of the silver sands. Beware its ire should it wake, kitten. The waif walks the path to my selfsame darkness, my little loving shadow, by the fond light of the moon."

"Oh, sands. Well, I have more of those, but I guess writing isn't very exciting to you, is it, Bes? Lamadu, please make a mouse to entertain Bes." The scroll obligingly creates a mouse from tiny chains of the Old Realm character for mouse and has it scamper across the page.

The instinct to bat it with your paw is strong. Do you resist it? If you touch the scroll it will greet you in Old Realm as Chosen. Zahur will not recognize the significance unless you show obvious intelligence by continuing to interact with the scroll, but if Zahur reports it when Sekhenun next checks in on her Vessel she will deduce the truth of your Exalted nature. If you maintain your cover as a cat, Zahur will let you come and go as you please while she returns to her studies. Possibly Compel-Worthy, but I don't see any Aspects or Intimacies that would fit, only really the instinct of the cat form.

[Pass - You've learned a lot about Zahur, and if you keep your cover nothing more exciting will happen. If you would like to accomplish something in the scene you can still act, otherwise you can just declare this scene complete.

A different angle for a compel aligned with your aspects might be to have to sun or the ship move such that the area where Zahur sits (under a canopy I forgot to mention) is suddenly in direct sunlight and your shadow reveals you as no ordinary cat.]

 

[Random Word]

Atusa:

Spoiler: Dakarai Hematti

Essence 1; Willpower 6; Join Battle: 7 dice
Personal: 10
Health Levels: −0x2/−1x3/−2x3/−4x2/Incap.
Actions: Sail: 7 dice; Command: 7 dice; Repairing Faqari Vessels: 5 dice; Read Intentions: 6 dice; Intimidate 9 dice;

Appearance 3
Resolve 3
Guile 1

Combat
Attack (Paired Scimitars): 11 dice (Damage 12, minimum 2)
Attack (Unarmed): 9 dice (Damage 9, minimum 1)
Combat Movement: 6 dice
Evasion 3, Parry 5/(Unarmed: 4)
Soak/Hardness: 8/0 (Heirloom bronze breastplate)

Intimacies:
The Gods Favour Us, and the Desert Rightfully Belongs to Our Clan [Defining]

The Hematti (Loyalty) [Major]
Her Crew (Pride) [Major]
Her Own Martial Prowess (Pride) [Major]
"Atusa's blessing is a gift from the Gods, and they demand we use it." [Major]

Aejej (Hatred) [Minor]
Nomarch Khaemwaset (Hatred) [Minor]
The Bintanath (Hatred) [Minor]
Atusa (Loyalty) [Minor]
Atusa (Friendship) [Minor]
Atusa (Awe) [Minor]
Atusa (Jealousy) [Minor]
Hasani Fayum (Love) [Minor]
The Principate (Resentment) [Minor]

Merits:
Djinn-Blooded: Grants two Spirit Charms and a small essence pool.
Born of Flame: Dakari's blood reduces the raw damage from any environmental hazard based on fire damage or heat by 3, and grants +5 soak against any withering attack made with firewands, sorcerously-conjured fire, or similar. Decisive attacks from such sources can only ever deal bashing damage to them and can never fill their Incapacitated health level.

Offensive Charms:
Immolating Pyre (10m, 3wp; Simple; Instant; Essence 1): Dakarai may call upon her elemental blood to release an eruption of flame, forcing all enemies within medium range to roll against a hazard with the traits of a bonfire (p. 230). Allies are unburnt, the flames washing over them harmlessly. Once per fight.

Defensive Charms:
Fiery Terror Aura (10m, 3wp; Reflexive; One scene; Essence 1): Dakarai may emanate a terrifying aura, subtracting one success from all attack rolls made against her. Characters may resist this aura for one scene by paying two Willpower. Characters with an Intimacy representing valor, courage, or a reason to fight fearlessly need pay only one Willpower.


Aspects:
Fire in the Veins
Born to Conquer
Gloryhound

Dakarai looks incomplete somehow without her ever present flame pieces and swords. She only takes them off to sleep, and even then they hang from her hammock. Your father gifted her those swords when he inducted her into the third coil of Steel Devil Style and she's scarcely let them out of her sight since. Over the many years you trained together under your father's stern but effective tutelage you were well matched, but unable to defeat her when she drew upon her power. Today, though, both of you are well aware that you have far surpassed her, and you can see a flicker of badly concealed jealousy in her eyes when she notices your approach.

Her short intensely yellow-orange hair ends in flickering wisps of flame dancing in the desert wind whipping through the cage as she sits leaning against one side. You can see part of her polished bronze breastplate shining under her outfit of white cotton wrap and pants tied with a belt and sash of command both of crimson silk. Her lip is split and bleeding, already swelling slightly, but her perennially self-satisfied expression always seems to say, you should see the other guy. Her scars are subtle, her blood always ensuring she healed well, and serve only to make her handsome to the right kind of admirer.

"No pleasure in this? Are you sure? Not even a little bit?" she asks with a grin. At a look from Gahiji she adds, "Radiance. You always were better at the whole 'dignity' part," she says as she looks out over the desert to avoid your reproachful gaze.

You know her too well. Before she turns back to you, eyes flashing with fiery intensity, and opens her mouth you already know what she's going to say. "I don't need you to get my betrothed back, Atusa, or pay my blood price. I need you to grant me vendetta so I can take him back myself, and present you Khaemwaset's head on platter along with the choicest of his treasures from amongst everything my ship can carry," she says savagely, the flames at the tips of her hair intensifying, "Those Raksha-loving cowards badly overstep themselves, I need only your permission to prove it and bring glory to your name."

 

[Random Word]

Hazel & John:

As you elbow your way passed the line to much consternation and indignation the matronly woman adjudicating seating attempts to accost you, reaching out to grab your arm. "No one gets to cut in li- Oh!" her hand freezes as she gets a good look at your face under your wide brimmed hat, just long enough for you to slip by. When her wits catch up with her she gestures angrily at one of the servers and turns her attention back to placating the now incensed line of hungry patrons.

As luck would have it you spot a table being vacated and sweep in to seize a seat before anyone can stop you. A passing serving girl carrying trays of hot food, catching the angry gesture from the maitre d', stops to gesture at you to shoo, "Ma'am, you can't take that seat. It's already assi- Boughs above!" As you ignore her and hold the amulet up to catch a beam of sunlight streaming in from the balcony, a bright golden needle shimmers into existence above it and points unerringly towards the kitchens, and one man in particular, cooking up an absolute storm in tandem with a woman who clearly has some fire in her blood.

The serving girl has clearly never seen magic like this before, and hasn't the faintest what to make of it, nor your face when you lift your head to follow the course of the needle. Seemingly deciding this is well above her pay grade she emits a strangled cry of, "John!" and takes several hurried steps backwards, only years of experience preventing her from tripping over packed seating or spilling the contents of her trays. John glances up from a bevy of orders ready to be dished out to see what commotion now threatens to distract him from his work.

You have eyes only for the chef, and John only for the strange customer, for the moment your eyes alight upon the other you each feel that telltale tug at your soul, that undeniable feeling of connection, a hole in your soul that went unnoticed since the moment you drew your second breath and now is filled, a piece of their soul secured once again in its rightful place in yours. You know this person in a way you've never known anyone before, and yet you know nothing about them.

For Hazel it could hardly be any more obvious that you've found your bondmate, and unless it's an incredible disguise they could hardly be further from a God-Queen of the Sands, and yet you find you couldn't care less. It hurts not at all that he's so delightfully easy on the eyes.

 

[Random Word]

Spoiler: Metagame Notes

From the clues I have, I'm going to say your Goal here is one of, in order of scope:
Peacefully Resolve the Diplomatic Incident
Build Alliances Among the Neighbours of the Hematti (Everyone? Specific Clans?)
Unite the Southern Clans into One Empire

They could each flow into the next, so I'm not going to worry so much about which one you want as your immediate Goal, but feel free to pick something that more accurately reflects what you where you want the immediate story to go.

For the first one, I think the Obstacles would be:
Persuade the Fayum to Stand Down (4) [Returning the Kheru Hasani, offering concessions or reparations from the Bintanath, honeyed words, skilled negotiating, etc]
Placate the Warmongering Faction of the Hematti (2) [This is optional, but will undermine clan unity if not pursued. Possible approaches: Extract concessions from the Bintanath; Give them a more enticing target; Consolidate power and neutralize them as a faction]

Atusa:
All sandships are prepared for war, but relatively few are made for it. It's a luxury to devote so little space to cargo and so much to weaponry. The Mandjet is made for war. Ten flame cannons, two catapults, two harpoon launchers, three kite reels, and a crew of two hundred fifty make it a formidable threat, while protective ironwood plates at alternating depths grant cover without sacrificing too much flexibility between segments. Warships tend to be of a more rigid design, with a solid central beam to keep weapons platforms stable and aligned, and make the whole structure more resilient to damage, at the cost of taking considerably more effort for their complement of Djinn to hold aloft. Their long and narrow hull profile is extended on all sides by small sails running parallel to the ground to increase lift-generating surface area, the better to hold aloft the heavy armour and weaponry they carry.

Flanked by the Neferirkare and the Niuserre it races down one of the many flat dry riverbeds that cut through the dunes, marked by great Jade obelisks every ten kilometres, Black Jade at the bottom, Blue at the top. The lorekeepers insist that once, before the collapse, these duneways overflowed with lifegiving waters to rival the Achaea, but now the Black Jade merely condenses what little moisture is carried in the air into rivulets that run down their flanks before evaporating under the harsh sun. The Blue Jade, however, still channels and guides the desert winds to form lanes on the left and right of the duneway where the wind travels swiftly in opposite directions. This network is by far the fastest way to reach almost anywhere in the desert, and control over the nodes where many duneways meet are one of the principal markers of wealth and status amongst the Clans.

Three days sailing passed silent towers, lonely pieces of long forgotten and longer buried cities, and huge wind-scarred outcroppings of red rock has brought you close to the meeting point Khaemwaset has chosen; a point unsettlingly but not suicidally close to the Maelstrom, one of the great Wyld pockets that sit at the intersection of many duneways. Each day it looms larger on the horizon, a hungry, swirling purple cloud cut through with lightning, domain of the great and terrible Lord of Chaos, Apophis.

Gyasi ever so softly slips down from the gently swaying hammock you share in the one small private cabin on the Mandjet, generously ceded by Captain Jabari. She dresses herself swiftly and silently, slips out to check on breakfast, then returns to wake you with a kiss. "Time for the sun to rise, Radiance," she says with a smile as she dresses you. You don't need to look at the soft glow in the east to feel it's almost dawn as you step out of your cabin onto the second of three decks. The wind is bitterly cold this time of day, but it carries the tantalizing smell of roasting meat and beer. Sirocco materializes beside you as Gahiji stands at attention and calls out, "Nomarch on deck!" All the sailors within earshot, whether in the rigging, manning weapons, patrolling the deck, praying at the shrines to the ship's Djinn, navigating, or performing maintenance, salute and reply, "May she reign eternal!"

Captain Jabari beckons you over to sit with her and her son and first officer Mudada beside the firepit where the Djinn Beacon in Darkness has been slowly roasting a goat to perfection all night. Jabari is three months pregnant, and has been relentlessly preparing her son to temporarily take over her command for when she can no longer fulfil her duties.

"Blessed morning, Radiance," she says as she hands you a mug of the thick, filling beer enjoyed all across Achaea, complete with ironwood straw. You could subsist off of it if you had to, and have more than once. "I'd be well asleep, but this old hunk of coals keeps insisting my dinner isn't yet ready to serve," Jabari says with a yawn. She's a hard looking woman who has seen her fortieth calibration come and go, and spent more of those years than not commanding a sandship with the scars to prove it.

"IT IS ALMOST READY!" booms Beacon in Darkness, taking a long swig from a wineskin and belching fire. He's a hulking mountain of a man in corporeal form, eyes like glowing coals, much of his dark red skin decorated with luminous red tattoos, especially his bald scalp. He's something of a perfectionist when it comes to barbecue and not even the captain would gainsay him; alcohol, food offered up to flame, and meals dedicated being amongst the Djinn's favourite sources of prayer, and thus the only thing keeping these ships flying.

"You've been saying that all night, Beacon. There wouldn't be anything left by the time you were done if you had it your way," chides Mudada playfully. He gives you a nervous but determined glance as you approach, but he hides it well. He has a lot to prove stepping into his mother's boots, and you are who he most needs to prove it to.

"YOUR IMPATIENCE DOES YOU NO CREDIT, MORTAL!" he retorts, the faintest flicker of a smile in his eyes that never touches his lips.

Gyasi crosses her arms, "Not all of us can wait until the end of time for breakfast. Serve her Radiance, or would you let your Oathbearer go hungry?"

He examines the stuck goat for several seconds, then pauses dramatically and declares, "IT IS READY!" to a chorus of groans.

"I see how it is," Jabari says, but it doesn't stop her from taking one of the cuts doused in spicy sauce and wrapped in flatbread. "If you weren't so good at this I'd have thrown you overboard years ago."

Beacon in Darkness makes a sound you've long learned to interpret as a guffaw, a deep crackling like wood breaking in a firepit. This ship was his before Jabari was born, and will be his long after the desert calls her home. "YOU MAY TRY IT, OLD WOMAN."

You've barely begun breakfast, the sun only just cresting the horizon, when Sirocco interrupts, "Radiance. The lead kite reports firedust discharges and faerie lights to the northeast."

Gahiji mutters darkly, "Idiots. Bait monsters, don't be shocked when they bite."

 

[Random Word]

Renna & Morrolan:

Wisdom's Star sighs and looks wistfully up the road. "Very well, Captain. We'll leave the food where it is."

The senior officers and cavalry claim the lion's share of the fresh meat - if it can be called that, for even a single lion would scarcely be satisfied with what the scouts managed to hunt - though there's a great deal of grumbling amongst the cavalry at the missed opportunity to seize a better meal. Mixed with a spiced lentil paste it serves as uninspiring but filling fare, livened up with the occasional luxury broken out from personal stashes. The horses graze desultorily on hardy scrub brush and a ration of hay. The infantry make do with the leavings and grease mixed with their lentil paste, all efforts to pitch tents and set up camp immediately abandoned once word goes out that the march resumes in less than an hour.

Few of the infantry are excited to march again, but the rest and a chance to eat keeps the volume of the grumbling low. Some of the younger cavalry are elated, hungry for battle and glory after a month of travelling. Three hours of hard marching later and the company is on the outskirts of the city. You can feel the earth shuddering rhythmically beneath you from several miles away, and it only increases in intensity as you close. The infantry in their camouflage cloaks are almost completely invisible in the darkness, arrayed along a low ridge covered in hardy thorny willows, using their shields and stepping gingerly to avoid being torn up as they pass through. The cavalry line up behind the ridge, concealed from the enemy.

Many of the bonfires maintained on the walls have gone out, but by the light of those that remain you catch glimpses of the state of the battlefield. Two great rents have been carved into the earth, cleaving through the walls of the city. Into these two breaches Din press, their lines strung out, only a fraction of their host left behind to defend the great black stepped pyramid whose pulsing heartbeat shakes the ground beneath your feet. Not all goes well for the enemy, for though they have breached the wall in two locations, at the breach closest to you Din are being sent flying through the air by great arcing swings of a two handed bronze hammer wielded by a four metre tall giant wrapped in loose red cloth, glowing softly in the darkness. Those defenders who have managed to retain their footing atop the walls rain arrows, stones, and javelins down on the attackers, but the breach furthest from you appears to have fallen to the enemy, who are even now pouring in in great numbers.

 

[Random Word]

Renna and Morrolan:

Spoiler: Mechanics

Strategic Manoeuvre 7: 5 hits, plus botch on Renna. Two Stratagems, Ambush + a modified Fortifications. This is real bad. Try not to die.
Ruby Bey JB 8: 6 hits, 9i
Din Reserves JB: 8: 6 hits, 9i

Initiative order:
Morrolan: 11i (Acting at 16i due to Charm)
Red Arms, Ruby Bey, and Din Reserves: 9i
Renna: 5i

Morrolan is up.

You are Chosen of the greatest war god to ever stride the battlefields of Creation, and yet in this one terrible instant this blessing grants you only a flawless understanding of exactly how dire the tactical situation has become. You do not know which war god you have offended, whether through action or inaction, for you do not even know the names of the war gods of this strange and foreign land. Surely you have not offended the mighty Lord of Cattle himself, but neither has Ahlat seen fit to intercede on your behalf against his lessers. All of this and more crosses your mind in the space between heartbeats as you stare into those pitiless ruby eyes, shining with an ancient cunning and the ages-accumulated wisdom of the mountain, while they in turn remain transfixed on the great and terrible mark that burns fiercely upon your brow. Slowly, grindingly, like the aeons-slow shifting of the earth, it casts its mind back through the millennia to recall when it last saw such a sign, but it needs no wisdom of ages lost to interpret the palpable aura of terror that radiates from you, proclaiming you a sword inimical to all you call foe, capable of laying low even the titans who built the world. The threat you pose is undeniable and existential, and so it will pull no punches.

You had thought everything well in hand. You formed the cavalry of the Red Arms into a wedge, a sturdy and powerful formation that, with warriors as devastating as you and Morrolan to serve as the point, was capable of breaching even the intimidating phalanx of sturdy earth elementals arrayed before you. A shining golden double of every soldier in the company forms beside them, unfailingly valiant and willing to give its life to protect its mirror, forming the outer and frontmost layers of the wedge, the better to shield the flesh and blood soldiers from harm. You had thought to pierce their line and carry on through, then wheel around and charge again from behind while the infantry pinned them from the front, a tactic that had easily dispatched a hundred lesser foes. You had not counted on the very bones of the earth turning against you, obsidian knives slowly erupting from the earth around them to form a funnel narrowing towards the centre of the enemy line as the drummers atop to pyramid changed to an intense rhythm that mimics the racing of your heart. The blades rose so slowly, their purpose transparent, and yet when you called for the cavalry to break right to leap over the wall of blades before it became too high the enemy general anticipated you and hurled the great boulder it held aloft, forcing the cavalry to manoeuvre desperately to avoid it, buying time for the obstacle to become both too wide and tall to attempt to vault. The momentum of your charge worked against you here, for the blades rose faster the closer they were to the pyramid, and even as you tried to halt the charge and with perfectly drilled precision your soldiers obeyed without colliding and trampling one another, still every second brought you deeper into the killing funnel.

It is the nightmare of every cavalry officer to find themselves in a position where their unit has no room to manoeuvre. Speed, the great and terrible momentum of the charge, and freedom of motion are your strengths, and packed shoulder to shoulder like this with no room to so much as draw a blade, let alone evade, and sapped of all your momentum, you are at your most vulnerable. And then, as if to drive home exactly how deeply the gods have taken offense, everything gets worse. The Din outside the killing funnel begin to sink into the earth, slowly enough that your barely notice at first, then suddenly they're gone. They're going to attack from beneath you. You had ruled it out as a possibility - surely if they could travel through the earth, even if only briefly, they would simply have bypassed the walls around Kabir entirely, rather than bothering to breach them? The walls then must be warded against such intrusion, for the people of Kabir have fought this enemy countless times before. The Pyramid is not this far from the walls for fear of counterattack, but to be outside the wards that bar the Din from walking through the earth.

You risk a glance behind you to see the infantry struggling to cross the shifting, hostile earth to reach you as fast as they can. They will be too slow. You can already hear the Din in front take up the rallying cry of the enemy commander in their strange language and charge towards you, and moments later you see grasping fists and driving spears erupt from the earth beneath and the blades of stone beside you. To their credit the Red Arms do not break or panic despite the terrifying situation, and the screaming only begins when bronze bites flesh.

Morrolan, with the peerless reflexes of a veteran warrior augmented with the blessing of Luna, is already moving before the enemy can even rise from the earth. So it falls to you once again to save Renna and the Red Arms from imminent disaster.

[Morrolan is up first. The enemy battlegroup is at Short Range and advancing. The Ruby Bey is at Medium Range behind them. You are effectively surrounded, being attacked from five sides, and cut off from half your forces, who are at Long Range and must pass over Difficult Terrain to relieve you. You have Defense 0 for the first round (You're going to feel that one in the morning), and -2 to Defense for the following 3 rounds. Everything is Difficult Terrain, so a difficulty 4 Dex+Athletics roll is required for any move action unless you're leaping through the air with a Charm or something.]

 

[Random Word]

Atusa:

It's remarkable how difficult it becomes to piece together the events preceding the moment those bewitching eyes seized your own, drinking deeply of your attention like it's an oasis before a woman wandering the desert a thousand years. Everything before that moment seems somehow to pale into irrelevance. Only the burning pain of the cold iron charm strapped tightly to the back of your hand cuts through the delightful but deadly reverie and allows you to put your thoughts in order. You recall your masterful command of the fleet, pulling well ahead of the enemy through coordinated fire, efficacious propitiation of spirits of wind, and deft manoeuvre, foiled only by a second small fleet the Raksha sent the long way across the dunes to intercept anyone travelling down this particular exit from the junction. Clearly they anticipated where the Bintanath intended to retreat, or at least its general direction. At great cost and with suicidal bravery the small flotilla of skiffs managed to slow down several escorts, resorting to ramming where necessary, forcing the entire fleet to slow down just long enough for the pursuing ships to latch on. The scale of the battle rapidly escalated from there.

The Mandjet acquitted herself admirably, archers loosing a hail of slings and arrows against this outrageous fortune through the slits in the ironwood plates, while return fire was harmlessly deflected. Boarders attempted to slip between the gaps in the plates, only to be crushed when you commanded the Djinn shift the ship to bring the plates together. The great stone serpents of the larger vessels formed boarding bridges over the plating, while harpoons and grappling hooks allowed the enemy to climb up into the rigging. You led the crew to repulse them again and again, cutting through scores of lesser naga and mortal cultists, and personally slaying a ten metre long naga champion.

Perhaps it was this last that drew her attention, or perhaps it was mere coincidence that the enemy flagship finally joined the fray moments later, two of its immense stone snakes working together to tear free one of the ironwood plates on the side of the Mandjet, the ironwood protesting as it bent like metal until it finally gave way with a terrible tearing sound and a shower of deadly splinters. Globs of acid were spit at the adjacent slits to suppress your archers as the two snake heads bit down onto the hull to form bridges over which dozens of naga poured. A third serpent head arced up and bit on to the second deck to create a bridge only for her.

Spoiler: Acekara, the Scales of Justice

Join Battle 8; Essence 2; Personal 20
Movement 8
Soak 10/H0, Parry 3, Evasion 6
Command Battlegroup 8; Senses 11; Disguise: 12 dice; Inspire: 14 dice; Instill or Persuade: 13 dice; Read Intentions: 12 dice; Seduction: 16 dice; Senses: 12 dice; Resist Poison/Illness: 12 dice; Stealth: 11 dice; Craft (Gossamer) 8 dice
Appearance 7, Resolve 5, Guile 7

Glittering Knives - 14 dice, 13/2 damage

Solid emerald scales that sparkle beautifully in the dawn light run up the side her legs, over her hips, along the curve of her waist, and the side of her neck all the way up to her cheeks. Poets speak of eyes one could lose oneself in, but the most beautiful mortal exemplars may as well be so many gaping toothed sockets before these soul-drinking, thought eclipsing marvels, their iridescent irises continuously and subtly shifting in endlessly fascinating patterns that only increase in complexity and beauty the longer one watches. Heavy black kohl eyeliner and eyeshadow of crushed emerald served to accentuate and draw the eye of the observer towards her own. A small set of brass scales hangs from her right ear. Golden vipers coil around her forearms, lower legs, and the base of her high ponytail. Her violet hair cascades almost to the floor, periodically bound by more golden serpents holding the scabbards of jewelled daggers. The green loincloth that ties off and hangs over her skirt depicts a set of brass scales weighing a heart and feather, with the jaws of a viper poised to swallow the heart, and around her waist hang a dozen more ornate blades.

She extended her arms out wide and spoke with a mellifluous lilt that cut through the din of battle, "I am Acccekara, Ssscales of Justiccce; Witnessss your judgement and rejoiccce, for my mercccy isss infinite. You have impressssed me wittth your valour. Ttthough you have been sssentenccced to deattth, I will ssspare thossse amongssst you who worssship me mossst fervently, and grant you the honour of ssserving me. Now, who amongssst you slew Ossssottth, Bone-" At this point you cleaved your way through a group of naga, and her questing eyes finally met yours, bringing us back to the present moment. She freezes in astonishment as she takes in your caste mark and your glowing nimbus, her lips parted slightly in awe. Her long forked tongue flicks out, tasting the air, and slowly she smiles, savouring the moment. She switches from Flametongue to Old Realm, "Oh my. Hasss my beautiful little golden bird flown her gilded cage to return to me? It hasss been sssso long ssssinccce I tasssted you. Do you sssstill remember how to danccce?" She draws a knife in each hand and twirls them dramatically, eyes glittering with anticipation.

Spoiler: Mechanics

Did you use Ship-Claiming Stance on the Mandjet? If so I'll subtract 1 from all enemy pools for those aboard.

Acekara spends 5m to use her Instill pool of 13 to Join Battle. Everyone whose Resolve is beaten by her JB result will be instilled with a Tie of Adoration for her. Standard 1 WP to ignore creation of a Minor Tie. Anyone who fails to resist the Tie will not be able to bring themselves to harm her unless harmed by her, and will attempt to prevent others from harming her (though not resorting to violence unless their Tie is raised to Defining).

Your personal guard (Size 1), Sirocco, and Beacon will be rolling 8 dice for JB. The naga (goblins) + cultists (Size 3) and the crew of the Mandjet (Size 3) will be rolling 6 dice, and Nethesua, the naga champion leading them in the assault, will be rolling 8 dice. That's a lot of stuff! Might have to streamline a bit by saying some of them keep each other busy for their turns, but we'll see. I'll put up their stat lines as it becomes necessary.

You can have your 6m back, since your excellent Sail roll was otherwise narratively wasted.

 

[Random Word]

Hazel:

The drawing is an impressively detailed depiction of a beautifully embossed scroll cap depicting a twelve armed goddess pouring water from an ewer in each hand. The waters form a script in Old Realm that you can read easily enough. It appears to be the motto of an organization devoted to building or creating something: "We [create/make/build] [life/dreams/light] so [all/together we/our people] might [flourish/stand against darkness/defy chaos]."

There is, however, another cleverly hidden reading in the mirrored script, obvious to you where most would miss it for its popularity in Raksi's Shogunate era iconography. The titles of many of the older scrolls in her library make no sense unless read this way. Presumably it was popular with other members of the Silver Pact aligned with her, though you haven't often run across it:

"By the reflected light [A euphemism for the wisdom of a luminary] of <uncertain>[This pair of characters is ambiguous. It refers to something strongly aspected of the moon, and if it were contemporary you would say it was certainly referring to Luna, but in the First Age it was often used to refer to powerful and well respected Lunars. After the Usurpation this usage began to fall out of favour, seen as hubris, but its usage had not stopped completely during the Shogunate. Raksi, for instance, sometimes used this character pair to refer to herself in formal writing up until perhaps a thousand years ago. It could also refer to a powerful moon spirit other than Luna, but this usage is rare.] and the gloaming light of the Child of Satesh [Now here's a character pair you don't see every day. Satesh is the sun of the Underworld, part of the titular Calendar that creates time in that land of otherwise perfect stillness. This character pair was sometimes used to euphemistically refer to dead Solars who did not immediately enter Lethe, for their role in bringing light to that dark realm.] we shatter the chains of the Principle of Hierarchy [You've seen this character before in First Age texts on Demonology in Raksi's library. It seems to be a demon even more powerful than Erembour, focused on authority, rigid codes of laws, and knowing one's rightful place. It's not immediately clear what this section of text is referring to, but it's some kind of euphemism for defiance of something constraining.] and draw forth the spire of dreams. [This doesn't translate well to Flametongue, but in the original Old Realm it's quite a lovely metaphor, playing on both the reflected and unreflected characters comprising it to evoke drawing forth and reifying a beautiful idea from a pool of celestial wisdom.]"

All of this would mean little to you, had you not already seen this scroll cap scant hours ago in Zahur's bag. This was not the cap of the wondrous scroll of cloth-of-moonsilver, instead appearing to be made of ordinary papyrus, but it was amongst her possessions.

 

[Random Word]

Atusa:

Acekara blushes, the emerald scales on her cheeks shifting to ruby, and fans herself with her free hand, "Ssso intimate."

All pretense at embarrassment fades in an instant. "Halt!" she commands with a voice like the crack of a whip. Immediately Nethesua and the naga abort their charge, close enough to smell their foetid breath, hot against your cheek, over the scent of blood and death.

This only makes it easier for Sirocco to kill them as they flee the inferno she's created. It takes her a moment to step outside her fury induced focus and recognize what you've said, but once she does her head whips around, "Atusa, no! You know these monsters do not know the meaning of fighting fair." The crew are clearly nonplussed by the sudden retreat of the enemy, but despite the look of deep uncertainty and concern Captain Jabari gives you, they hold their discipline and at her order do not pursue.

Acekara ignores Sirocco's outburst, "You are alwaysss ssso ssstubborn when you are new. I accccept your termsss, little bird." She sheathes her knife, plants her hands on the stone beneath her, lifts herself up to curl her feet in under her to rise, and walks out over the bridge to the centrepoint beneath your vessel and her own. The sand races passed beneath her and the fierce wind whips her hair out to the side. She spins on her heel to face you and grins widely, fangs bared, "We will dance here, between our ssshipsss."

 

[Random Word]

Renna & Morrolan:

A ragged cheer is taken up on the walls as you approach the gates now opening for you, though many simply stare in awe at the light show that is your still burning animas.

Broad shouldered and swathed head to toe in roughspun red wool, the City God of Kabir, Adjo, stands a full four metres tall, though he doesn't look it at the moment, leaning exhausted against the haft of his hammer. His dented bronze wide brimmed helm shines in the reflected light of your animas of silver and gold, softly glowing blue eyes barely visible in the darkness beneath. Behind him you see wounded being tended to, as well as some curious looking animate clay constructs with runic inscriptions. The low stout buildings you can see behind him have few windows if any and their entrances are barricaded - whether against ash or intrusion is unclear. The domes dwarf the structures around them, and presumably the entrance to the bulk of the city is concealed beneath.

He says something in the language of gods and spirits, but when you shake your head he switches to heavily accented but comprehensible Flametongue. "Seneschal," he nods to Morrolan, his voice gravelly. He looks at Renna, "Lawgiver. It's been a looong time since I've seen your kind round these parts." He pauses, considering. "You're with a Seneschal, so I'm gonna assume you're allowed to be here, and in fact I think I'll find your presence so unremarkable it ain't worth mentioning to no one. I don't want no trouble. Can't say the same for everyone, though. Goin' round making displays like that, I hope you know what you're doin'. I don't wanna sound ungrateful. You did a mighty fine thing for us, stickin' your neck out like that on our account. You may have lost the Mandate, so I don't have to do what you say no more, but I'll see you're done right by all the same. Guest custom only goes so far though, in a harsh land like this."

He descends into a brief coughing fit before recovering, looking between Renna and Morrolan, uncertain which of you is in charge. "What brings you to my little jewel in the wastes?" You can't see his mouth beneath the cloth wrapping, and can only barely make out his eyes, but you think he might be smiling slightly. "I'm Adjo, by the way. Pleasure to meet you."

 

[Random Word]

Atusa:

Acekara smiles and sheathes her knives, "I yield. Well done, little bird. I haven't been challenged like that in cccentriess." As you turn your sword aside she rises and bows deeply, then materializes a horn from the chaos flowing from her wounds and sounds a retreat. A great cheer goes up from the crew at your victory, hard fought and witnessed by all. "Until we meet again," Acekara says with a sigh before leaping down to join the the naga filing back across the stone serpents. Slowly but surely you can see the same happening on other ships. There appears to be a brief altercation between Acekara and the other cataphract when they meet on the deck of the flagship, but it is resolved swiftly, and both are watching you and discussing something as the Fae vessels disentangle themselves and fall behind.

The void left by the retreating din of battle is filled with the plaintive cries of the wounded and the deeper silence of the dead. Now is left only the gruesome and difficult work of tending to each. Each died the way a warrior should, shoulder to shoulder with their clan against a fearsome enemy. As painful as any loss your people suffer is, you can take solace in seeing how blessedly light Merecheas' harvest was given the foe, entirely thanks to your quick wit and skill at arms. None present will soon forget that.

Thanks to Merecheas' blessing the dead will not rise as hungry ghosts, but funerary arrangements will be made all the same. The bodies will be bled into bloodstone to produce pure drinking water, then the first steps in the embalming rites will be performed to ensure they do not decay while they await the attentions of a full team of morticians. This is a lengthy process, and in the meantime, once Gyasi is done fussing over your wounds and worrying about you, the business at hand demands your attention.

Spoiler: Nomarch Khaemwaset Bintanath

Essence 1; Willpower 5

Appearance 2
Guile 4
Resolve 3

Aspects:
Explorer
Daring
Manipulative
Ambitious

Spoiler: Aajej

Essence 5; Willpower 6

Appearance 5
Guile 3
Resolve 3

Aspects:
Possessive
Haughty
Wanderlust
Scholar

Spoiler: Kheru Hasani Fayum

Essence 1; Willpower 5

Appearance 4
Guile 2
Resolve 2

Aspects:
Scavenger Lord
Troublemaker
Brash
Roguish

The Mandjet is brought alongside Khaemwaset's flagship, the Ursudi, and you are invited over with the laying of an ironwood bridge. The damage here is more severe, both to vessel and crew. Khaemwaset sits on a small but richly embroidered floating carpet of reds and golds with golden tassels. An injury while young, exploring a dangerously unstable ruin, cost him the use of his legs, but few clans can claim such a proclivity for finding the treasures of ages lost as the Bintanath, and so a solution was found. He is clothed in loose fitting white robes and kufiyah with only a collection of curious looking rings for ornamentation. He wears his graying beard long, his face weathered by half a century's exposure to the desert, but his grey eyes are still sharp and cunning.

Arrayed around him are various servants in finery and soldiers who have done their best to make themselves presentable after days of sailing and the recent pitched battle. Beside him sits a materialized Djinn with skin black as night, decorated with an intricate tracery of luminescent golden tattoos. Flames lick the skin around her numerous wounds, but these cause her no visible discomfort as Kheru Hasani, a young man with Fayum beads in his black braids, tends to them with a thick black paste. She has a wild mane of white hair, blood red eyes that have seen ages come and go, and generously apportioned hips. Perhaps it's something in the glint of her knowing eyes or the quirk of her golden lips, but she has the countenance of a skilled storyteller, the sort of person who you can't help but think could hold an audience spellbound with tales from far and wide for days. In one hand she holds a cold iron khopesh, in the other a cylinder of Black Jade inlaid with a complex - and perhaps almost imperceptibly shifting? - pattern in shining Moonsilver. The young prince has clever black eyes, full lips that were made for a mischievous grin, a strong jaw for a narrow face, and a good physique well framed by his open vest and loose pants of pale blue cotton tied with a silk sash bearing his clan insignia.

Gahiji is badly wounded, so Sirocco has the honour of announcing you as you board the Ursudi. "I present Her Radiance Atusa, Nomarch of the Hematti, Chosen of White-Fire Judgement, Slayer of Subahar, Warden of the Seventh Great Duneway, and now the Blade Who Turned a Hundred Ships." [You can claim the Sobriquet Merit for that one, and reword it as you please.]

The captain of Khaemwaset's personal guard salutes, "Wisdom Khaemwaset, Nomarch of the Bintanath, Caretaker of the Great Library of Wadjet, Guardian of the Lost City of Ensa, Warden of the Eighth Great Duneway, bids you be welcome aboard the Ursudi, Nomarch Atusa. I present Hasani, Kheru of the Fayum, Heritor of the Sixth Great Duneway, and Aajej of Ten Thousand Tales."

Hasani bows, "Nomarch Atusa. The stories did not do you justice. For one, they omitted the great aura of golden light, which I personally find to be one of your most striking features."

Aajej smiles languidly, "Nomarch Atusa, you honour us. Fortune shines on the Hematti, and all Faqari."

Khaemwaset's face lights up with a wide smile and he addresses you with a raspy voice, "Well I'll be. Sun-chosen, just like the stories said. I see the winds of change have been kind to both our clans, and I have chosen my allies well, for to have you as an enemy would be a worrisome prospect indeed. The Bintanath owe you a debt not easily repaid. Your timely and valourous intervention saved more than merely our lives," Aajej admires the black and silver cylinder with satisfaction, "for we still tightly grasp the Index they sought to deny us. I understand my sons would be of no interest to you, but it would be my honour to grant you your choice of my lovely daughters."

He stares at the symbol glowing on your forehead for a moment, then meets your eyes again, "There is no longer any point in secrecy or evasion, for the fates could not proclaim their support for my choice to align our peoples any louder if they carved our names into the firmament itself. Soon we will see what lies beyond the door the Index opens, and why the Raksha fought so fiercely to keep it buried, and we would be honoured should you wish to join us."

 

[Random Word]

Hazel & John:

The Labyrinth of Budding Truths is a vast warren of hollowed capillaries in the lower trunk of the Heartwood of Javurwa, the immense tree throughout which the city is built. A small legion of shrublike elementals with amber leaves and bushy bullrush stalks dust the halls and sort the endless stacks of scrolls according to some ineffable design. Technically only those granted special dispensation by the Council can visit the Labyrinth, but Quiet Reverie is on duty this afternoon and one piping hot bowl of noodle soup from John's famous kitchen is all it takes to convince her to look the other way.

"You're lucky your noodle soup is so good. That's the only reason I'm even considering this," she says, blushing slightly as she glowers at John, as if daring him to disagree. The 'again' is silent. She glances at Hazel, "And who is this? No, wait, maybe it's better I don't know. Alright, what are you looking for?" She takes the drawing and holds it close to her face, clearly nearsighted. "A scroll cap? And you want to find related material? And you don't know anything about it? From the Shogunate or earlier, okay, that narrows it down to a few wings. Do you have the scroll? No? I don't recognize this. Could take centuries to find it." She sighs, "I can't promise you'll get anything useful, but I'll give it to a Keeper and ask it to add it to the collection. Follow it and don't lose sight of it. You know the rules: Don't touch anything you don't absolutely need to. Take nothing. If you're caught, I never met you. If you get lost, ask a Keeper to lead you out."

She slurps a mouthful of noodles and sighs contentedly, " 'ank 'ou," then hands the drawing to a passing amber bush. It grasps the drawing in a tendril and runs one of its bullrush heads over the surface, pauses for the better part of a minute in contemplation, long enough that you begin to wonder whether it will ever move, then without warning sets off at a surprisingly brisk shamble down one of the hundreds of narrow tunnels that radiate out from the ten storey central atrium capped with amber windows, thick dust swirling through pale shafts of orange sunlight. Some noble would have long since claimed the site for a palace were it not for the thorny temperament of the occupants and the daunting prospect of removing them.

John can't help but notice how Hazel carefully avoids the shafts of light wherever possible as she crosses the hall, nor how when it becomes unavoidable her shadow shifts and writhes unsettlingly when cast by sunlight.

The elemental is no sprinter, but its endurance is impressive, and jogging along behind it is enough to leave John winded while merely getting Hazel's blood pumping. It stops in an alcove surrounded by honeycomb shelves stuffed to capacity with scrolls on all sides, so thick with dust you suspect no one has been here in centuries. It rolls the drawing up, suffuses it with amber light, and seals it with secreted wax before sliding it neatly into one of the alcoves and scurrying away on some new errand. You start by randomly pulling scrolls from the shelves and fortune clearly smiles upon you for you are graced with a deluge of information that will take days to sort through. There are hundreds of scrolls with a similar cap and thousands of related works, detailing everything from material requisition orders for manse construction to plans for agricultural product distribution from Ushan and Bizra to surrounding settlements, clear evidence that this is pre-Collapse material from when the desert was lush and green. Today Ushan and Bizra can't even produce enough food to feed themselves, let alone produce these absurd agricultural surpluses. You've never even heard of some of these plants.

After several hours poring over dry texts you manage to piece together a few things. The pre-Collapse population of Achaea was likely somewhere in the neighbourhood of a hundred times what it is today. That's sobering. The organization whose symbol brought you here was primarily based out of a spectacular Manse called the Alcazar of Twelve Ewers somewhere in the Locuran jungle. John has heard fanciful stories about the Alcazar, a legendary garden of the gods with herbs that can cure any disease, peaches that grant immortality, and even creeping vines that can bring life back to the dead.

The only mentions of where it might be located are in reference to places you've never heard of, but you do have some records of goods being transhipped there from the river through Javurwa, so it stands to reason it's somewhere relatively close. Given all the references to Manses, geomantic projects, and agricultural products in the more recent documents, their pre-Collapse mandate seems to have been the construction and maintenance of a network of essence-fuelled agricultural infrastructure that spanned the desert. If they could be repaired and brought back to life they could feed countless millions. Centuries prior to this the requisitions are smaller in scale, entirely focused on deliveries to facilities in Locura, and decidedly stranger. Some of these manifests are almost certainly coded, and it's difficult to decipher what was really being transshipped, but Hazel can recognize sorcerous reagents and ritual components when she sees them. The manifests seem to detail regular deliveries of very large quantities of livestock, but nowhere near enough foodstuffs to feed them, and no outgoing goods of any kind. Either these locations produced quite a lot of food on their own, or they didn't expect the animals to survive.

Quiet Reverie's unexpected and unusually loud voice shatters her namesake as it echoes in the distance, "So, what do you need to find these documents for, anyway?"

Faintly you hear the pained reply, "Is it entirely necessary to be so loud? I need not remind you this is a library."

"Don't worry, there's no one down here."

Closer now, "Are you quite alright?"

"Oh yes, I'm fine, thank you."

Thamina Al-A'zam and Quiet Reverie are approaching your location. You have time to grab one or two promising documents before they arrive. What useful information do you find, and deny to the Sorcerer-Prince in the process?

1. Plans detailing the design of the Alcazar itself, including its defenses. Best to know what dangers might await a curious cat.
2. Research notes on the design and development of a new kind of agricultural Manse, never delivered to the Alcazar. It looks like it was at least partially completed, and these notes would be invaluable in repairing it.
3. Very old research notes from something called Project Vitruvius, still sealed and coded, long forgotten even before the Collapse. Gain a glimpse at what darkness sleeps buried beneath Achaea.
4. Nothing - you promised not to steal anything from the library, after all.

What do you do next?

1. Play it cool and pretend you're allowed to be here.
2. There's a small space carved out behind the shelving in this alcove, possibly a new tunnel soon aborted. It would be a very tight squeeze, but both of you could fit inside to remain out of sight.
3. Flee down the hallway.
4. Something else entirely.

[ D. Rex how's that? ]



Atusa:

[Oh, the daughters are literally right here! Okay, I can roll with that. That says something about who they must be, that they would be brought on an expedition like this. So Atusa has a thing for pale blondes (the average local skin tone this deep into the Burning Sands is dark enough it doesn't need to tan). That implies she's got some foreign blood in her, possibly Northern. Her other parent must have been exotic, and likely the source for her supernatural elements if you opt for that.]

Is Atusa getting married, or taking a concubine?

1. Marriage. This is a significant political union between the Hematti and Bintanath, and your children will be in the line of succession for both. [We'll say polyamory is legitimized in case you want to start a Khera collection as part of your plan to unite the clans. Absolute Primogeniture and Djinn choice if inheritance can't be easily resolved.]
2. Concubine. This is a temporary arrangement (probably 2-4 years or so), a generous gift, and a sign of strong mutual trust.

Which of Khaemwaset's daughters is blonde and feisty?

1. The Tomb Raider - She's a skilled archer, fit, lean, and a master of avoiding or disabling traps and locks both mechanical and arcane.
2. The Scholar - She's widely learned in history and natural philosophy, reads and writes many languages including archaic dialects, and is adept at solving riddles, puzzles, and ciphers.
3. The Occultist - She trafficks in the strange and otherworldly, with a more than passing familiarity with the spirits. She is skilled in at least one school of esoteric arts.
4. Something Else - Make a case for how it might align with the Bintanath's strengths.

She is:

1. Mortal. (1 dot Ally)
2. Supernatural. (+6 XP Debt, 3 dot Ally)
3. Not supernatural yet, but she will be. (Option to later upgrade her to a 3 dot Ally for 6 XP)
   • Very supernatural (Option to later upgrade her to a 5 dot Ally for 12 XP)

Aajej looks at Kheru Hasani with the self-assurance of one who is very rarely spurned by their heart's desire, and a depth of possessive affection typical of Djinn. They do not love in half-measures. Luckily they are by nature flighty and new preoccupations tend to entirely eclipse the old. [Defining Tie of Love, but if she falls in love with someone new it will replace this one.] Kheru Hasani looks at Aajej with love, yes, for who could look on a visage like that and remain unmoved, but this is overshadowed by a deep and abiding respect for her abilities bordering on hero worship. He has a reputation for ruin delving and treasure hunting that has placed him at odds with his family, and Aajej is something of a legend. [Minor Tie of Love, but a Major Tie of Respect] For a man of his rank and stature, to be relaxed in the custody of a hostile clan is not unusual. Honour demands he be afforded the comforts of his rank, and he would have every expectation of being ransomed back to his family in good health and short order.

You hadn't thought it possible, but Khaemwaset's smile widens as you declare your interest in binding yourself to one of his daughters, and by proxy his clan. "Truly Inkharus smiles upon me. The winds of change brought tribulation, as always, but also fortune the likes of which I could have scarcely imagined. We should reach our destination well before the sun has reached its zenith. Please, take the time to get to know them, there is no hurry to make your selection." All three sit on divans under a shaded awning, and look at you with a mixture of surprise, awe, and curiosity. You get the feeling this arrangement is as much a surprise to them as you.

[Pass - Once you pick your new concubine/wife and resolve your hold we can jump to exploring ruins.]

 

[Random Word]

Atusa:

Spoiler: Mechanics

Atusa regains 40 motes and we'll round up to recover two -1 HLs.

I'll also introduce the notion of 'clocks' here by revealing the The Principate Learns Atusa is a Solar clock, currently at 1/4. When it reaches 4, the Sorcerer-Princes will piece together Atusa's nature. Atusa flaring iconic in front of new people pushed it up, but because she only flared in front of a group of Bintanath (plus Raksha) already predisposed to keeping secrets it only increases by 1.

Renna and Morrolan had a similar clock, but they blew straight through it immediately when they both flared iconic in front of a large city with Principate informants in it.
Renna & Morrolan have an ongoing clock for The Lady of the Forest discovering their nature that's at 2/4. She's paying less attention than the Sorcerer-Princes, but she's not blind. The rumours will reach her.
John has a clock for the Lady of the Forest discovering him, and it's at 1/4 from when he drew his second breath in her jungle.

Time passes swiftly in meditation, and soon enough Gyasi brings you back to reality with the clinking of jewellery, swishing of linen, scent of her rosewater perfume, and the soft press of her lips on yours. "We approach our destination, Radiance," she whispers before she steps behind you and kneels to quickly but gently remove the bandages to inspect your wound, shaking her head in wonder, "Only bruising left. I can barely tell you were seriously hurt. It will be sore, but you don't even need wrappings anymore." She looks nervous as you both rise, but there's a good chance she's just worried about you. "Stay safe," she whispers.

---

As you step out onto the deck for the second time today a marine sergeant, having taken Gahiji's position by your door, announces "Nomarch on deck!" To which the crew echo back the familiar, "May she reign eternal!" Sirocco materializes and falls into step beside you. The tops of weather worn stone edifices wrapped around shattered skeletons of jadesteel tower over you as the Mandjet sails through their shadow. The features of those gods and worthies who stand vigil over the ruins have been long since lost to the shifting sands, and when the chant of the crew fades the only sound that disturbs this immense mausoleum is the whistle of wind between artificial canyons and the creak of the ship's rigging. First Officer Mudada bows, "Nomarch. The Bintanath report we are minutes from our destination. I have kept the fleet at arms in case this is a trap. The Bintanath are cunning, and I think you have demonstrated they can't hope to defeat us head on."

The Ursudi plots its course between the silent monoliths deftly and soon descends a ramp of sand into a wide bay in an immense octahedral structure one third buried in the sands, clad in brilliant White Jade with a set of tarnished brass scales emblazoned on the side. The scales weigh a shining silver heart against the golden Old Realm character for justice. It's difficult to estimate how far above original ground level you are, but as the Mandjet follows the Ursudi down you see smaller versions of the Blue and Black Jade obelisks that dot the duneways run along the sides of this large chamber, with what appears to be elaborate docks for mooring vessels to both your left and right. The swift winds running in opposite directions on each side seem to have kept this chamber from filling completely with sand.

Spoiler: Khera Moswen Bintanath

Essence 1; Willpower 6
Picking Locks 7; Defeating Arcane Security Measures 6; Spotting Traps 7; Stealth 6; Acrobatics 7; Sailing Sandships 5; Dance 6

Appearance 3; Resolve 3; Guile 2

Feisty
Proud
Lone Wolf
Thrillseeker
Ice in the Veins

The Ursudi and Mandjet moor on opposite sides of one large pier while the rest of the fleet pitches stakes in the sand to hold themselves steady further out. Khaemwaset watches wistfully from the deck of his ship as his daughter, the Khera Moswen Bintanath, oversees the transfer of goods and personnel for the expedition into the depths. Her lithe figure and short stature make her difficult to pick out amongst the sailors and slaves carrying packs full of supplies onto the pier, but her unbraided shoulder length blonde hair, pale sun kissed skin, and intense blue eyes make her stand out when you catch a glimpse. She wears an outfit of loose white linen; harem pants cinched with bronze anklets, chest wrapping, hood, and cloth mask over the lower half of her face. The only concession to colour in her clothing is a blue cape with her clan crest in white - a stylized Ibis amongst reeds - draped over her right shoulder and pinned to a sash of the same colour around her waist. A servant beside her carries her bow and khopesh while her climbing tools and lockpicks hang from her sash. Her sandals appear to be made of White and Blue Jade, with cloth-of-Blue-Jade bindings criss-crossing up her ankles.

She glances at you with curiosity when you disembark. "Nomarch Atusa," she bows with a graceful flourish. "This is my expedition. I have a speech for this. It's a good one, all about following my instructions precisely if you don't want to die and not touching things you aren't supposed to, but I'd feel silly giving it to you. I don't even know if you can die." Her eyes smile, "So, let's see what you can do, Sun-touched. Don't slow me down."

Khera Matsimela Bintanath, Aajej, and Kheru Hasani Fayum descend the gangplank to join the expedition as it forms up and slaves begin hauling open the huge bronze doors emblazoned with a set of scales, an inscription in Old Realm above them, "May this edifice stand as an eternal monument to our universal aspiration for justice and peace; The wicked shall be separated from the righteous like chaff from wheat, and interred in a prison of their sins so that all may prosper."

 

[Random Word]

Hazel & John:

You didn't forget how handsome John was, any more than you forgot the sky was blue, but some days the elements conspire to remind you just how blue it can be. When he's pressed against you like this in the shadows it's hard to remember what it felt like to think about anything else.

In the depths of your soul Erembour stirs languidly, "My, listen to that heart race." Her voice is like nails running down your back, sending shivers down your spine. If this is the tiniest fraction of her power it's unsettling to contemplate what she's like unbound. "Do you need help, kitten? I think you need help." Your shadow forms a hand that gently slips under his shirt to rest at his hip.

You're spared the immediate consequences of Erembour's 'assistance' when footsteps approach the alcove and the hand dissolves as quickly as it appeared. Quiet Reverie clears her throat, "Here it is, Magister. Everything we have related to the Alcazar of Twelve Ewers. Please let me know if you require anything else."

The Magister hums, pleased, "I'll take it all."

Quiet Reverie, clearly nonplussed, attempts to politely demur, "Magister, I'm afraid no one is permitted to remove works from - Oh, I see. Yes, of course you are. I'll have the elementals fetch them." Footsteps can be heard departing down the hall.

A new voice, like a soft wind through reeds, speaks in Old Realm, "Thamina! Don't do that to mortals."

Thamina sighs, replying in Old Realm, "It's fine, Taza. They're our scrolls, the Javurwans were merely minding them for us. Now I'm taking them back so that Necromancer," she all but spits the word, "doesn't get her dirty hands on them."

You hear the sounds of scrolls being unrolled, and Thamina clicking her tongue in disapproval, "It could take days to cross reference all of this and pinpoint the Alcazar. She'll be long gone by then." She grits her teeth, "All the accumulated knowledge in the Alcazar is ours. We made it. How does she have a map?"

Tazadahar replies, reproachful, "You know who she was in life. She could have drawn that map from memory. You're trying and failing to distract me from your transgression."

"Come on! If Ea-Abzu makes the desert bloom we're all doomed! The Lady isn't doing anything!"

"The ends justify the means, Thamina? I know you didn't fail your ethics examination, or you wouldn't be standing here."

Thamina sighs in exasperation, "The thing about ethics examinations is you don't need to believe the answer to write it." Ten seconds of tense silence follows this outburst until she reluctantly, sulkily continues, "Fine! I'll be more ethical. When I was creating you I didn't think I was making my Hanama-damned conscience."

"You're welcome," replies Tazadahar dryly.

Several minutes of silence punctuated by the rustle of papyrus follows before Tazadahar breaks it, "What will happen to the Faqari?"

"You mean the loyalists? Well, I imagine once they aren't always on the edge of starvation they'll lose much of their savagery in time. I'd say, 'Imagine what they could accomplish if they didn't spend all their time killing each other', but we've all learned that already, haven't we?" she observes dryly. "We'll have to exert a civilizing influence over those that remain free to prevent a repeat of that disaster. I understand they were invaluable in the war, but that sort of barbarism is a double edged sword. Perhaps we'll keep those beautiful ships around for sporting events."

Footsteps and the rustle of a small army of bushes heralds the return of Quiet Reverie. "Collect everything on the shelves of this alcove," she commands. "Where shall I have the scrolls delivered, Magister?"

"My carriage, please."

In a flurry of motion the shelves of the alcove are emptied and their contents carted off.

"One last look around, then it's time to get moving. We need to be ready to go when she leaves. I won't lose her."

[Thamina is rolling 6 dice to spot you. Stealth + [Dexterity or Stamina] to remain hidden, if you want to remain hidden at all.]

 

[Random Word]

Atusa:

Gyasi's breath catches at your offhand joke, "Wait. Maybe I should wrap it, just to be safe. It isn't completely healed."

---

Sirocco shrugs, "It is what it once was, and has always been. What is the purpose of a mountain? You built so many. How did you find a purpose for them all?"

---

[6 hits definitely exceeds her Resolve.]

Moswen puffs up her chest slightly as she looks up at you defiantly, "I'll have you know I could snatch a viper in mid-strike and my tongue could run circles around -" At this point she catches on and blushes prettily, the colour accented by her pale skin. "That's not - I didn't mean -" she gives you a flat look, "Don't say it." She looks away quickly, seeking any available distraction, and her eyes settle on Hasani.

"Must Hasani be here?" she snaps, exasperated.

Aajej laughs, "He found the Index. He deserves to be here when we use it."

"One day! He was there one day before me and he 'found it'!" exclaims Matsimela. "He was just lucky. I determined what it was for."

"Ladies, please, you can fight over me after we use my Index to see what's through that door."

Matsimela gives Aajej a long-suffering look, "I cannot fathom what you see in him."

Aajej grasps Hasani's chin and gestures towards his face, as if this is evidence enough.

"Besides that."

"Well, there's my charming personality, razor sharp wit, and while my tongue may not be quite as adept at circling things as Khera Moswen, I like to think it's -" Aajej silences him by pulling him into a kiss.

Moswen groans and storms off through the now open set of heavy bronze doors, "Fine! He can come. He has a better chance of dying this way."

---

The long colonnaded hall beyond is choked with dust, the air musty and stagnant. Aajej summons tiny but surprisingly bright flames to follow each of you. Through the patina of grime that coats the walls you can barely make out the mosaics beneath. In the gloom you can make out inscriptions on the columns and see long since dried up decorative pools at intervals along the walls. "This hall is safe, as best we can tell. This is a court of some kind, and the building is still structurally sound," calls Moswen over her shoulder, "Matsi, show her the mosaics while we open the door."

Matsimela nods, then bows to you. "Nomarch. Please, allow me." She leads you passed side passages that lead into darkened audience chambers to a mosaic - the dust cleaned off so the tiles shine brightly in the light of your accompanying flames - that depicts a horde of terrifying creatures descending upon a city before being halted by the rise of a jackal headed silver champion with the symbol of the moon above its head. "The Silverwright. Middle Shogunate, early Abzean." Great and terrible behemoths stride forth from the horde, and the Silverwright is depicted commanding the skies to scourge them and the earth itself to swallow them all, wielding a white stepped pyramid in one hand and a silver staff being struck by a lightning bolt in the other. "Here's where things get interesting." The Silverwright is depicted holding two golden spheres, one floating above each palm, as a collection of regal but monstrous figures kneel before her and their armies cower and flee. "Those spheres are what we're here for." The next scene depicts the Silverwright and her acolytes binding the regal figures to golden tablets with silver chains and in the process transforming them. The scene after that depicts the judgement of two prisoners by a procession of figures all overseen by an immense serpent who is in turn overseen by a white diamond containing the two golden orbs over a set of brass scales. One of the figures in the procession immediately catches your eye. The blindfolded figure weighs each of the prisoner's hearts on a set of brass scales against a feather, but your attention is drawn to the emeralds that run up the side of her neck to her cheeks and her long violet hair. In the next scene one prisoner's chains are broken while the other is swallowed by the immense serpent. In the belly of the serpent the unfortunate prisoner's spirit is subjected to a terrible fate while their body works in the mines. "We think they keep both of the golden orbs here, and the Maelstrom was once some kind of dungeon for the enemies of the old empire. This isn't the first time we've seen the orbs depicted, and it's always in the context of defeating Raksha."

---

While you're examining the mosaics you notice Moswen sneaking frequent surreptitious glances at you any time she thinks you won't see. Even with this distraction she soon causes the stone doors at the end of the hallway to dissolve into sand and flow aside, revealing a large vertical sandstone shaft that both descends and ascends into darkness. You rejoin the others in time to see Aajej send small flames in both directions, revealing heavy stone doors on each floor but no visible end to the shaft.

"What in the sands is this?" mutters Moswen.

"Perhaps everyone in the old empire could fly like a Djinn?" suggests Hasani, clearly no less confused. "Or this building was only for Sorcerers."

"The mosaic depicted executing prisoners. Perhaps they threw them down this shaft? It looks terrifying enough," offers Matsimela.

Moswen leans out into the shaft, then smiles. "Handholds!" she declares happily as she grabs onto a series of clefts carved into the stone to the right of the door and tests them. "Come on, Sun-touched. We can free climb this while the slaves chisel some belaying lines."

"Oh no, you aren't leaving me behind," declares Hasani with a grin as he starts to climb behind you.

When you catch up to Moswen she's paused before the first of the doors with the Index in one hand. By the light of the flame hovering over her shoulder she reads aloud a set of characters off the side of the stone door. The silver writing on the Index rearranges itself into a sequence of characters which she reads in an authoritative voice, causing the door to dissolve into sand and flow away to the sides. Moswen listens to the ensuing silence for ten seconds before making a hand sign to signal Aajej, dematerialized behind you, to peer through the doorway. Her winds still as she lays eyes on the contents of the room. "Be cautious," she whispers.

Moswen nods and leans out to the right until one eye can see into the room, then pulls back sharply. She gestures for everyone below her to wait, looks one more time, then very slowly puts her hands on the ledge and pulls herself up to lie flat on her belly crawling forward. She waits for thirty seconds, perfectly still, before she gestures upwards with one of her feet and shuffles to the side, indicating you can follow her.

The scene before you is surreal, the entire chamber suffused with an almost palpable feeling of grief and loss. The flickering light of the flame that follows you reveals suits of Jadesteel armour, shattered and rent, scattered across the hall like toys and dashed against sandstone pillars, the warriors who wore them long since reduced to dust. At the far end of the hall is a dais before which lies the armour of a figure pierced with what must be almost fourty spears. Its outstretched right gauntlet is shattered, pieces of finger scattered over metres. Above the dais hangs a tablet of shining Orichalcum suspended in a shaft of light. Hundreds more like it hang suspended in their own shafts of light in the otherwise lightless void beyond, the size of the chamber completely impossible given the dimensions of the building. It's difficult to read from here, but the tablet above the dais seems to be listing heinous crimes chiselled in fine Old Realm calligraphy: Murder; Rape; Kidnapping; Unlawful trafficking with Demons; Unlawfully speaking the language of the Labyrinth; Attempting Resurrection; Unlawful trafficking with Solar Exalted or their Spirits; The list goes on. The final entry, barely legible in crude script chiselled by a rushed hand, is a single character that simply reads: 'Drawing breath'. The bottom half of the golden tablet glistens with fresh blood, perfectly preserved as if spattered only seconds ago.

Moswen whispers, voice ragged with emotion, "I... I don't know what I'm looking at, but I don't see any obvious danger."

 

[Random Word]

Atusa:

Moswen's blue eyes light up at your endorsement, "Really?! Oh I like you!" She rushes to take off her sandals, hang them at her sash, and step into the pool before you can change your mind. "Yes, almost certainly, and if I told -" She hisses as her feet slip into the water, "Cold! I like it though. It's refreshing. Where was I? Oh, right, if I told my family I wanted to go through they'd be all, 'It's been thousands of years, Moswen. The gate could open onto a sheer drop, the bottom of a lake, or a solid rock wall, if it still works properly at all. Send a slave through first to see if they survive," she pantomimes, waving an admonishing finger. You can't see her mouth, but you can tell she's grinning as she grabs your hand and pulls you along with her, "But it'll be fun. Sure, whoever uses this gate might be able to fly, or breathe water, or walk through solid walls, but probably not, and I bet it goes somewhere exciting. There won't be any traps in this pool," she declares as she pulls, looking at you instead of her feet, "It was guarded, and you don't stab your own people in the foot just for forgetting to skip the right stone."

The water is cool and Moswen's hands warm against your skin, and then you're standing before the gate. Even this close you can't feel the slightest hint of movement in the air, and yet the curtain billows, shimmering in a white light with no clear source. "Ready?" she asks as she shakes the water off her feet and puts her sandals back on. She takes a deep breath and steels herself, "Go!"

You've never plunged into a bath of ice water before - that's a level of conspicuous wealth few can claim - but you're fairly certain this is what it would feel like. It knocks the breath from your lungs, and then almost as quickly as it began it's gone. The air is bitterly cold, but at least you have your armour. Far worse is the sense that you can't breathe. The air feels thin and empty even as the cold burns your throat and lungs, and it takes a few seconds for the initial rising panic to subside before you realize that you can breathe just fine, it's the source of your miraculous power that feels missing from the air. No, not missing, just thin, like when you take a kite too high into the sky. Drawing your power in with your breath has become so natural to you since Exalting that the sudden difficulty feels unsettling. Moswen's chattering teeth and shivering hand in yours bring your attention back to the world around you. These temperatures are going to be fatal to Moswen in minutes, and to you in a few more. A quick glance behind you shows the gate still reassuringly present and reachable, constructed of a light-drinking black stone on this side.

Stretching out before you is a vast undulating plain of ice that curves upwards at the edges all the way to a sky filled with dead stars that don't so much shine as offer a respite from the all consuming darkness that surrounds them. Obelisks of black metal covered in vibrant green arcane sigils descend from the sky to the ice sheet, equally spaced in a perfect grid until they reach the edge of the circle, their size defying easy comprehension, too numerous to quickly count. Those at the very edge are fully encased within the ice wall, little more than black silhouettes, the light of their sigils scattered and refracted. Periodically the darkness is pierced by a scintillating orb falling from the sky with a varicoloured streamer of light behind it before the orb is pulled into the nearest obelisk to vanish in a bright flash, briefly illuminating the ice sheet beneath it.

Between chattering teeth Moswen manages to stammer, "B-Blessed Ptahmah-mah! [Ptahmah, God of Wealth Hidden Beneath the Sands] L-l-look at a-all this ice! I'm f-freezing my t-tits off, but we're r-r-rich!"

She looks down at her feet to search for signs of the intruder's passage, her eyes going wide with shock. Teeth still chattering "Wh-what the f-f-fuck is th-th-that?" You can't tell if she's paling from shock or the cold. Probably both. You're already having difficulty feeling her fingers in your own. Looking down through the perfectly smooth frozen lake around the gate, transparent like thick glass, you can barely make out what appears to be a battle raging far below in a ruined cityscape. Like a rolling natural disaster, some immense hundred-limbed spider is striding over the battlefield, disassembling every structure it passes over and reassembling them into new forms in its wake. The battle lines part for it as it passes, those too slow to get out of the way presumably being crushed or used as building materials.

 

[Random Word]

[Aaaand we're back to our regularly scheduled program.]

Renna & Morrolan:

Overseer Lualhati's heavy rings rap loudly against his stone desk to cut through the noise of what might generously be called a vigorous debate, and less charitably incoherent squabbling. He's a heavyset man, considerably muscle having run to fat in his later years, with thick arms and hands calloused from decades of hard work. "Fellow Overseers! We have an orichalcum opportunity here! These heroic Chosen have proven the Din can be defeated in the field. With the stone and our combined forces we could defeat the Din and send the King a resounding messa-"

The rest of the council erupts into objections, each seated at a separate stone desk arrayed around a circular shaft that runs deep into the earth. On the rare occasions in which the chamber has been silent since you arrived you could almost swear you heard breathing from the depths. The small bowls of perfumed water are clearly there to mask the dank and foetid smell of the air rising from that shaft. The chamber is lit by small luminous orbs whose light waxes and wanes regularly as they float about the room. Some sort of spirits maybe? These people seem extremely averse to open flames of any kind.

Instead of a desk with an Overseer, the position around the shaft closest to you and the entrance is occupied by a large circular stone table on which is carved an intricate topographical map of the area, with small wooden pieces representing armies. You can see the Din forces are spread out into five groups, four heading towards different outlying settlements and the fifth now a small distance away from Kabir. There are freshly carved pieces to represent you and the Red Arms placed beside the city. The defences of the outlying settlements is clearly much weaker than Kabir. You don't anticipate they'll fare well if left unsupported.

While they're squabbling Adjo leans over, "The hearthstone stabilizes the earth. Invaluable for excavating new tunnels. Also seems to prevent the Din from being able to swim through or manipulate the earth. Very precious."

Overseer Rizal finally manages to cut through the clamor by shouting at the top of her lungs, impressively loud for a woman so slight, seeming to almost drown in her heavy voluminous robes, "Overseer Lualhati, this is an orichalcum opportunity for you to return the tribute you are concealing from this council! These outsiders have paid in blood to save us from your selfish mistakes, and now you ask them to pay more? You shame us all."

Overseer Vaktri slams the rune-scribed hardened clay fist of his left hand down onto his table to pre-empt the outcry sure to follow, "Regardless of whether the tribute is found and returned, we have a perfectly serviceable set of defensive emplacements right here. We should hold here, gather reinforcements, hire mercenaries if necessary, and engage the King, whether in diplomacy or battle, from a position of strength. To sally against his forces now would risk lives needlessly."

"And what of the lives of the miners outside these walls, Vaktri? If we do not counterattack now, you -" replies Lualhati, trying to keep his tone measured and failing.

"And whose fault is that, Lualhati?" retorts Rizal.

Lualhati turns to Morrolan, "Moon-Chosen, I beseech you to offer your wisdom to this council. Surely we cannot permit the tyranny of the Eight-Forged King to continue, nor leave these people to their fate?"

Renna's Limit Trigger trips again - that one's nasty. You could force Lualhati to give up his son and the princess. This would sacrifice an innocent, but likely let you negotiate peace, not only saving the outlying settlements and avoiding any further casualties amongst the Red arms and the Hisari of Kabir, but opening the mines as soon as possible, giving you more money and making your employers very happy. Since your limit trigger is simply being presented with any opportunity to sacrifice an innocent to benefit you, it triggers here. 3 Limit dice.

John & Hazel:

John's transcendent insight has given you a means of navigating to your goal, now you only want for the blessing of the Lady to secure your passage through the jungle. The priests will not intercede on behalf of a pair of ordinary mortals unaffiliated with any powerful organization to petition for a hunt. They aren't in the business of sending the foolish to die pointlessly. They will need to be persuaded you have what it takes to complete a hunt, or you will have to petition the Lady on your own.

Deep grooves have been worn into the side of the Javurwan Heartwood by what must be millenia of almost continuous passage by the huge wooden spiders bearing ironwood platforms of goods and passengers on their backs, rising with creaking limbs through neighbourhoods and branch-orchards filled with thousands of workers rushing to bring in the season's harvest. These tireless elementals form the literal backbone of the city's economy, doing the heavy lifting required to make life in the treetops possible. In return they are regularly honours with lavish festivals throughout the year marked by webs of colourful lanterns strung throughout the eaves and branches.

The higher you rise into the canopy, the less cover there is from the light of the evening sun. The day is catching up with Hazel - you've spent all day up and about instead of sleeping, and you know Erembour won't let you sleep at night. Already you can feel her stirring slightly in your soul, her power waxing as the sun wanes. Still, a cycle of the Sun without sleep is not enough to put someone as tough as Hazel down for the count. What gives you pause is the beautifully manicured moon garden around the temple to the Lady for the Forest, high in the branches of the Heartwood. The canopy has been cleared away here to ensure nothing obstructs the light of the moon, and this has unfortunately left no respite from the sun. You could wait until the sun sets and the flowers of the moon garden bloom to enter, but this could cost you valuable time.

Atusa:

Moswen seems genuinely touched by your concern - it's more regard than one might expect for a political union. "I don't know you very well yet, but so far I like what I see, and I want to see more," she turns her head from where it rests nestled in your shoulder to kiss your cheek. "You're right, though. We have a job to do, and we aren't done. Come on, let's get climbing."

You return to a lower floor to meet up with the others to relay your findings and plan your ascent, made much easier by the rope strung between metal anchors now chiselled into the stone. Matsimela asks a barrage of questions and then wanders off to consult her notes. It takes some juggling, neither Aajej nor Sirocco willing to leave their charges to ascend and ascertain how high you'll be going, finally settled by summoning the blue-flame Djinn Harmattan to make the ascent and report back. She sends word that there are 80 floors above you, and that some sort of stone platform fills the centre of the shaft near the top, anchored in place using the slots carved into the walls that you've been using as handholds. Some of the doors on the upper floors are marked with warnings in both Flametongue and Old Realm indicating the areas are restricted and entry is forbidden.

At this Moswen smiles, "And that's exactly where we're going." She looks at you appraisingly, and not for beauty for once, "I think I'm in better shape than you, so I'll go first in case you need to turn back. Hasani, are you sure you're up for this? We'll stop for a break every ten floors, so it shouldn't be too bad."

Hasani looks indignant, "After you didn't let me see the magic gate and the fields of ice because I'd disturb the dust, then proceeded to knock it all out of place anyway? There's no chance you're keeping me away from this one. I can make the climb."

Moswen rolls her eyes, "It's not going anywhere. You can freeze to death any time you like."

The ascent is difficult, but the ability to open doors periodically along the way for rest stops makes it much easier. You see floors filled with cells for holding prisoners, sealed vaults of unknown purpose, working areas for clerks and administrators, and in one case a floor that was completely empty. Finally you arrive at a sequence of restricted floors, one of which is labelled the armoury. Far below you can see the distant points of light where the others await your return. Moswen reads the passphrase from the Index and the door dissolves into sand and slips aside. You can see a circular outer chamber dominated by an immense lion headed stone statue seated in a throne, impassive ruby eyes reflecting the flickering light of the flames hovering over your shoulder. Time has caused the paint to chip and peel under a thick layer of dust, but the jadesteel of the immense ornately embossed shield and khopesh at its sides still shine brightly. To its right and left sit stone plinths above which hover your prizes, a pair of beautiful White Jade Spheres inlaid with Orichalcum surrounded by spinning rings or Orichalcum, all hovering a small distance above the stone. To each side of these are large doorways into a long hall beyond, in which you can barely make out what appear to be racks of weapons shining in the darkness.

Moswen holds her breath, barely moving for ten seconds before she slowly lets it out. "Fuck. Of course there would be a guardian spirit. There's no way we're getting siege weapons up here any time soon," she whispers softly. She glances down at you, "Can you defeat it?"