@@ Line 1: / Line 1: @@
-:42 [ST] After days of grueling travel, the battered group arrives back at the city of Kushan. The multicolored pentagonal walls loom up like the prow of some great onrushing ship, the mast provided by the towering, but broken crown of the Shatterspear Manse. Its Essence cannon has been deployed - a tapered spine juts from its upper reaches, gleaming in the pounding sun. Colored pennants hang from the walls, and a crowd of jostling heads can be seen atop them. The Honored Citizens, come to have a look. The slaves toiling in the fields outside the city don't dare to cease their labor, but cast their eyes up to view the oncoming spectacle, working on blindly with well-practiced care.
+Marked for deletion.
-:43 [ST] Apparently, word of the group's arrival has already preceded them.
-:54 [Kalan] Kalan smile is acid. Instead of half a hundred men, three yeddims, and two Dragonblooded, he escorts....a a dozen  mortals  (including a farm girl now craning her head to look up), half whom groaned loaded onto horses, and....two Dragonblooded.
-:54 [Kalan] And he was walking.
-:55 [Kalan] His smile is beginning to edge more into a snarl. He had loathed the journey home, full of stops at insignificant villages, bullying and jostling the vapid mortal herd from their homes on a road west, away from the shadowlands.
-:56 [Kalan] One stubborn group had refused to budge, until he'd burnt their village down. A rare moment of pleasure amongst tedium and monotony.
-:57 [ST] Talek moves among the wounded, helping them as he can, but his insistence that the Maiden must be following alarms as many as his charms help.
-:58 [ST] Cynis Matara remains as stoic as usual, sticking close to Kalan out of a desire for safety or some misguided affection.  The older Dragonblood is not popular with the mortals that trail them, with few exceptions.
-:59 [ST] One consists of the slaves who had inhabited the burned village. They had owned nothing there, really, and had grinned in quiet glee as they watched their masters' homes set ablaze, as theirs or their parents' might have been, long ago.
-:00 [ST] The other exception is the mortal Raven, who also stays close. She practically clings to Matara's skirts, and the other woman allows her to stay near. Again, perhaps a sense of misguided affection or pity.
-:01 [Kalan] His boots squelch in the mud, spattered and worn and never made for marching. He roars at a legionaire in Cynis colors standing at the gates, and the woman jumps, hastily saluting and rushing to open the gate to Shatterspear. "Finally," Kalan grates out. "Vash. Take the wounded to the infirmary."
-:01 [ST] "It must seem like a circus to them," Matara says quietly, cocking her head up to the watchers on the city's walls. "I bet they've never seen Dragonblooded like this."
-:02 [ST] Vash nods sharply. His arm is bound tightly to his body with a torn rag, but he's among the most sound of the soldiers. "Yes, sir."
-:02 [Kalan] Kalan ignores the herd above, not dignifying them with a glance. "Perhaps not," he agrees indifferenty.
-:03 [ST] As he leads the others away, the mortals accompanying the retinue swarm through the gate, goggling. Many, though ostensibly spiritual kindred to the masters in this city, have never seen such splendor. Behind them, the slaves file in slowly, listlessly.
-:04 [ST] A figure worms his way through the press, a small, fat man in a well-cut silken robe, a small black hat perched on his bald head. He bows.
-:04 [ST] "Excuse me, Princes of Earth. I am a messenger from Honored Prince Sajet, come to converse-"
-:05 [Kalan] "State your piece, and don't bother with the pleasantries," Kalan snaps.
-:06 [ST] "Er, uh...." He begins to sweat, and his hand jerks up for a moment before returning to his side.  He actually almost just pulled at his collar. "Prince Sajet was just wondering, oh hon- er, he heard that the Maiden was no longer with you, and was just wondering when the she plans to return. Surely she has not seen her fill of our beautiful city."
-:09 [Kalan] "The Maiden can rotting choke on his manhood for all I care. See to the disposition of these refugees." Kalan gestures behind him with his spear. "They'll need food and quarters. Now out of my way, slave. I've �important� people to speak to."
-:10 [Kalan] Kalan's infusion of cheer from the burning of the village had worn off quickly. He pushes the man aside and stomps off the garrison.
-:10 [ST] He opens his mouth, blanches, opens it wider, shuts it, and scurries off to do just that. Raven tosses a rude gesture after him.
-:14 [ST] Matara, Kalan, and Talek soon find themselves seated in high-backed chairs in the conference room they entered when they first came to the Manse. Ragara Garm stomps in a moment later, an evil cloud of tobacco smoke boiling around his head from the wooden pipe between his teeth. He almost throws himself down into his seat, and stares down into the grain of the table, puffing away, for a long moment before looking up.
-:15 [ST] He doesn't seem as stout and as imposing as he did.  Even the massive block of white jade that forms his prosthetic arm seems clumsy. Aside from his imposing salt-crystal beard and his missing eye, he looks more old and washed out than fearsome.
-:18 [ST] "The news isn't all bad," he begins. "The Slug has been worming his way into every crack in the Realm trying to turn up support, and it seems like he's found a few fools to listen. More troops should be arriving soon, and he says Ledaal may be interested in contributing to the Hunt. Never cared much for Ledaals myself. My grandfather Ragara said a Ledaal was only good at two things: reading books and failing to apply them. But I'll take anything we can get." He takes another drag.
-:19 [ST] "Who knows? We might get someone who actually cares about the safety of the Realm." He waves the thought away.
-:19 [ST] "Now the bad. I only have to look to know, but you better give me your report."
-:19 [Kalan] Kalan looks at him impassively. His lips curl. Ledaal. His wife was a Ledaal. He laughs openly, baring his teeth. "Not likely."
-:21 [Kalan] He reports crisply and without ornament. "The war machine- I'm pretty sure it's a war machine-behaves intelligently," he concludes. "It's a city-taker. We hurt it significantly, I'd say, but didn't cripple it or render it ineffective. I've ordered the villages on the route to the city evacuated."
-:22 [Kalan] "We'll need to get the warstrider out of mothballs. Next time we see it it'll be accompanying an invasion."
-:24 [ST] He nods. "A good move. The Prince won't like it, but it's just as well we get them out of the way. I don't think anyone in the Realm gives a tinker's damn about a few thousand slaves, but that tune'll change real quick when they're dead and swarming over you." He grunts.
-:25 [ST] "I don't have the expertise to mess with the 'strider. You'll need a sorcerer or a technical specialist of some kind... and I don't think it'll ever work as good as it once did. Still, can't hurt."
-:25 [ST] "Haven't heard anything back from V'Neef Jorj and Avaku, either. We have to assume they have their hands full."
-:27 [ST] "What happened to the Maiden?"
-:29 [Kalan] Kalan had left her out of his report, he realizes with a grimace. Foolish to be so obvious. "Gone. She sent the mortal guide with a message that the assault on the soldiers was a feint; as indeed, it proved to be. We know nothing of her after that." He shrugs, his indifference a little too careful.
-:32 [ST] Matara leans forward, licking her lips. "She's gone.  And the machine only appeared after she sent Raven away.  She might have set it upon us."
-:33 [ST] "Either way, at least we don't have to worry about her now," Garm says. "A bitch like that I'd rather have coming at me with a sword than standing by my side."
-:35 [Kalan] Kalan grunts agreement.
-:38 [ST] "In any case, I'll set a crew to getting the warstrider out immediately, and scouring the Shatterspear for whatever we can scrape up. The Prince is said to have a collection of Essence artifacts as well, but it'll take one of us to pry them out of his hands.  Any other ideas?"
-:43 [Kalan] "Step up drills for the prince's troops; starting drafting citizens and setting them to the spear." Kalan shrugs. "The time may come when they have no alternative to dying for their country." He takes in a breath slowly, face flushing slightly at the thought of seeing..her... again. His voice is flat and calm. "Stick out nose into that shadowland and see what's gathering."
-:44 [Kalan] It's a suicidal notion.
-:46 [ST] "Not a bad idea, but most of the people here are slaves, and the ones ruling them won't be much good in a fight. I'm not sure we can count on them to do anything worthwhile..." He scratches at his temple. "Of course, apparently we can't count on the Exalted to do it either..."
-:47 [ST] "As for the Shadowland, that's a horrible idea, but considering the situation we're in, might not hurt. I'll take it into consideration. We'll know more when Avaku and Jorj report in from Ghan. Should have heard from them already."
-:48 [Kalan] "Then we arm the slaves if we must," Kalan says impatiently. "This is the Wyd Hunt, not an extension of Cynis business interests."
-:50 [ST] "Arm 'em if you want... just don't be surprised if they turn their weapons on their masters afterwards." He shrugs. "Cost of doing business in flesh. Cynis should be expecting it."
-:50 [ST] Matara says nothing, chewing on her lip quietly.
-:51 [ST] "If there's nothing else, we'd best get on about things," Garm says, rising to go. "Lot of work ahead... and it'll probably end in our graves."
------
-:01 [Kalan]  There are nearly two dozen of them with wooden sticks in their hands. Their faces all have the vague, wondering expression of those snatched from mundanity. They're stripped to the waist, revealing the hard, sinewy muscle of a life of labor and the knotted scars of discipline.
-:03 [Kalan] They have, finally, managed a proper jab together without someone dropping a spear or tripping. Kalan eyes are narrow and hard as he drills them. Two of his semi-ablebodied Cathak soldiers wander among the slaves, pointing out mistakes and poor form with relish.
-:04 [Kalan] This is not the first time troops have had to be replaced in the field, and there is a comforting ritual to it. Vash himself had been born in Harborhead.
-:04 [Kalan] "Keep them practicing the third form," Kalan orders.
-:06 [Kalan] If he could make this lot of human cattle into something resembling soldiers- enough to keep the heat off KuShan's veteran corp, at least- perhaps the experiment woud warrant expansion.
-:06 [ST] Vash moves among them, shaven head bare in the hot sun, yelling orders, getting the clumsiest in line.  Not that there are many - these men are strong and skilled, masons and bricklayers, and while unused to handling weapons, they have learned under threat of punishment far more severe than sharp shouting and light buffets.
-:08 [ST] "They're coming along, sir," Calla observes. She's been with Kalan longer than most of them, a fact attested by her broken nose, patchwork of scars, and three missing front teeth. Naturally, the other soldiers call her "Beauty."
-:09 [ST] "Mechanical, but strong. I've seen worse, some of it Realm-born."
-:13 [Kalan] Kalan nods grimly. "They won't need to learn to march, and they don't need the exercise. Get them some planks; we're going to start shield drills and manuevers." To tell the truth, he was surprised; he had thought it would take longer to break the habit of passivity a lifetime of beatings wore into a man.
-:14 [ST] "I'll see to it, sir. They may even know where some are, we found them working on-site-"
-:15 [ST] As if on cue, a tall, thin man wearing a well-cut set of pants and a short jacket, his left wrist sporting a tortoise shell bracelet, comes around the corner and surveys the scene.  He seems to swell for a moment, snarling at the training slaves, and they falter in their motions, looking about with confusion.
-:16 [Kalan] These men and women would have been executed for touching a weapon yesterday. A philosophical man might have found some evidence of the vitality or enduring strength of life, but Kalan sees weapons. Turning red and malleable under the heat of the forge. He smiles. It's ugly.
-:16 [Kalan] Though of course....
-:16 [ST] "Who is responsible for this?" the man shouts. "Who has given you worthless pieces of shit the ability to SIGN YOUR OWN DEATH WARRANTS?"
-:17 [Kalan] "You!" He snaps to the man with the bracet. "Here! Now!"
-:18 [ST] "I don't care what you think is outside that gate! It's not your place to THINK, it's your place to-" He turns at the sound of Kalan's voice, and seeing the Dragon-Blood stand there, snaps his mouth shut audibly, turning to move towards him. To his credit, he doesn't tremble. Much.
-:21 [Kalan] "These are my new fish," Kalan tells him, looking bored. Fish were unblooded legionaires.  Tedious as this was, it needed to be done. "Have you weapons training?"
-:22 [ST] "I- I- er, no, Prince of Earth, I do not."
-:24 [Kalan] "Excellent. You will be a good lesson to them in what happens to combatants who hold their weapons too stiffly." Kalan glares at a particular recruit with flinty eyes, and she swallows hard. He kicks the man a spear. "You've learnt how to disarm, fish. Now it's time to practice."
-:26 [ST] The man looks down at it sharply, wavering, and seems to find some reservoir of courage. "Prince, please, you cannot do this. These men cannot be trusted with weapons. They will turn against us. They will make the streets run red with blood. They will murder, and rape, and burn... do not encourage them."
-:30 [Kalan] "No," says Kalan, very cold and correct. "They will fight on the wall, and rain fire down upon them without flinching. They will die facing forward, defending Creation. They are Cathak legionaires, and they will buy back their lives with blood."
-:31 [Kalan] He steps forward, fire kindling in his eyes to bore down on the insolent mortal. "Join them, stand here and be practice, or �get out of my way�."
-:33 [ST] "They... they are my property..." he backs away, and the slaves are not yet bold enough to pursue him. "If you wish to take them, I will re-require recompense. Honored Prince, you must see that's the only way. You don't want these men. I have others, more pleasant to look upon. A young man, fair of face, who can play the lyre. A girl with the voice of a nightinggale, and soft hands, she's trained in the arts. There are others than these dross, let me show you." His back hits a nearby wall, and he nearly jumps out of his skin at the contact.
-:37 [Kalan] Kalan spits. Stupid merchant sheep, pattering about their wares as their marketplace rotted around them. You amost had to admire their industry. He pulls the man from the wall and sends him sprawling back to the fish. "Consider it requsition," he suggests. "Hold your spear and prepare for attack." He signals the young woman with butterfingers.
-:38 [ST] He picks up the spear shakily and holds it before him as the woman moves in, trembling in place like a frightened rabbit. Her blow strikes his spear right below the head, knocking it out of his hands - and sending the butt flying up to smash into his face.
-:38 [ST] He reels away, a hand held to his bleeding nose.
-:39 [ST] "The Prince will hear of this!" He whimpers, breaking into a run.
-:42 [Kalan] Kalan ignores him, looking over his meager group of nervous slavers. He grunts. "Make two rows of ten. We're going to do that again, a hundred times."
-:44 [ST] Above, in one of the narrow windows of Shatterspear Manse, a figure watches the display silently and unseen.
-------
-:48 [Kalan] "Zip," Kalan grates with his eyes closed, fighting to sleep, "If you keep playing with those curtains, you're going to burn the manse down." There's a smokey smell in the room, like burning mold, as Zip dances about the room, flares of light burning against Kalan's eyelids. He throws a pilow vaguely at the fire elemental, and it thumps against a wall.
-:49 [ST] Zip buzzes about for a moment, lighting up the mirror that covers most of one wall, making angry noises in response to his chastisement.
-:50 [ST] He freezes, trembling in midair, when there's a soft rap at the door.
-:51 [Kalan] Kalan sighs, putting feet to floor and letting the fire elemental scurry behind. "Come in," he calls with weariness of one now resigned to a sleepless night.
-:52 [ST] The door drifts open almost reluctantly, revealing a figure wearing a loose-fitting blouse and skirts, pale face flickering in the candlelight. Matara.
-:52 [ST] "Kalan. I hope I didn't wake you."
-:54 [Kalan] "No," he answers sourly.
-:55 [ST] "Good." She stands there silently, hands held before her, twisting them together violently.
-:57 [ST] "I saw you with the slaves today," she blurts at last.
-:59 [Kalan] "Did you?" He asks quietly, watching her. He finally has some inkling. He stands, running his hands through his disheveled hair.
-:00 [ST] "Yes. What you did... it was right. It was a good thing." She doesn't look up.
-:01 [Kalan] "That's right. You were a slave, weren't you?" he says with cool amusement. "I didn't see any of your relatives among them, if that's what you wanted to know."
-:03 [ST] "I know you didn't," she says quietly, taking the barb. "It's just... I've never heard a Dragon-Blooded say something like that before. Fighting, buying back their lives."
-:06 [Kalan] He looks at her for a litte while, deciding how to answer her. "They're healthy enough, and strong. They'll make good soldiers. The Citizenry of this place is useless and indolent." His eyes narrow. "Don't mistake efficiency for sentiment," he says with bitter amusement.
-:08 [ST] "I'm not naive enough for that," she says, a touch of hurt in her voice. "Do you really think I am?"
-:10 [Kalan] "I don't know," Kalan says, lowering his hackles. "Are you? Why are you here?"
-:12 [ST] "I wanted to ask you if you believed what you said, about buying our lives with blood. Is that what we're doing? Making up for our mistakes?"
-:16 [Kalan] "No," says Kalan cooly. He tells her the truth, because it's cruelest thing he can say. "That is true for them, not for us. I'm here to die. There is no buying back my life, I have been assured of that." He had argued, almost begged, raised his voice in wild hypotheticals. It makes no difference, his grandfather had told him in a voice as cold as ice.
-:17 [Kalan] "You....I don't know what may be true for you. " He smiles, a flash of sharp teeth. "You Cynis are merchants, after all."
-:18 [ST] "Oh."  She's quiet for a moment, ignoring his barb against the Cynis. She doesn't consider herself much of one, after all. "You don't have to let others decide when you die, Kalan.  You don't have to do it to please them... what you did couldn't have been so bad... could it?"
-:24 [Kalan] He laughs. "Of course it could, you fool," he says. "I was unlucky and the consequences of my....error...rather grew. " He smiles again, mad, magnetic. "You know what they say about the first taste." He throws himself back down on the bed, watching her through slitted eyes. "I can die with honor. It is the only thing left to me."
-:25 [ST] "It doesn't... have to be the only thing," she says sharply, averting her eyes.
-:27 [Kalan] "Oh?" Kalan says unhelpfully, but with ugly delight at the flush in her cheeks.
-:29 [ST] "I thought... you might want to..." She all but blurts out the last part. "Bed me."
-:30 [ST] Zip darts around the room, flickering, throwing light across her face and the mirror behind her.
-:33 [Kalan] He laughs, less with mockery than from honest amusement at the absurdity of it. He stands again, walking swiftly to her side. He puts a hand under her chin and tilts it towards him, giving her no choice but to look at him.
-:33 [Kalan] "And do you want that?" he mumurs.
-:34 [ST] She blushes deeply. "I..." And that's when Kalan sees them, a thousand dark strands sliding down the surface of the mirror, writhing, wriggling.
-:35 [ST] They clench, convulse, and suddenly the darkness itself seems to spring at the two Dragonbloods, the air filled with the sound of dozens of whipcracks.
-:36 [Kalan] Kalan hisses, reaching out instantly to grab Matara's shoulder and jerk her away."Demons!" he shouts.
-:38 [ST] A number of strands slide across Matara's face, seemingly gentle in their carress, but beneath their touch skin splits and blood flows.  More strike her in the chest, hurling her backwards to smash into the opposite wall, splintering a desk.
-:43 [Kalan] Frustrated ardor sizzles from Kalan with visible heat, flying about the darkness in irritated sparks. The air around him seems to shimmer with a sorching heat so fierce it is almost physica and as the darkness wraps around him it, it ignites, sending the creature howling back with following through on its attack.
-:44 [ST] The flare of light that surrounds Kalan, as well as Zip's furious luminescence, reveals the demon clearly for the first time.
-:46 [ST] Its body is a fist-sized knot of hair and phelgm and bile sprouting hundreds, thousands of hair-thin tentacles.  It bobs and weaves this way and that with short, erratic hops, its legs cracking in the air. A few free ones shatter the mirror and bureau without a casual grace, then begin feverishly shaping them into some new shape.
-:47 [ST] Kalan isn't familiar with demons, but he recognizes this one, as most Dragon-Blooded would. A Hopping Puppeteer, mainly used in siegecraft and building operations, infamous for its bad temper.
-:47 [Kalan] Zip glows with the smug steadines of the vindicated. "My apologies," Kalan says, reaching out a hand. His direspear jumps to him in a gout of flame. He settes into his stance, charms flickering alive.
-:48 [Kalan] Another almost-assassin. His sorcerous enemy seemed curiousy reluctant to hire more help.
-:54 [Kalan] Kalan slides between Matara and the creature. Fire licks along the length of Tongue of Flame, scorching the floor as Kalan eases first from one foot to another, searching for an opening. His first attacks are probing, thrusting into the twitching black mass of hair and mucus, taking advantage of its limited room to dodge in the small room.
-:54 [Kalan] The awful smell of burning hair fills the room.
-:55 [ST] The knot jerks back and forth wildly, and the thing's thrashing legs send a thousand ribbon-shadows racing across the walls.
-:58 [ST] Kalan's furious assault sends ichor and bile spraying across the wall and sets hundreds of legs aflame, but the demon keeps coming, sending crazed bursts of light through the room as it thrashes its burning limbs.
-:01 [ST] Lurching forward, blood sluicing down her face, Matara grabs a mostly decorative knife from a table. She hurls herself almost blindly into the mass of legs, slashing fiercely.
-:03 [ST] The blade finds its way into the center of the lashing limbs, lodging up to the hilt in the central knot.  The demon gives one final warbling screech and leaps backwards, strand-legs cracking the air in their haste and - dies, falling to the floor in a loose clump of hair and bile.
-:04 [Kalan] "Well done," says Kalan, wrinkling his nose at the foul odor that now pervades his room.
-:05 [ST] Matara only gasps heavily, the knife still clutched in her hand. She's a bloody mess, but most of the damage seems to be cosmetic.
-:05 [ST] "Shouldn't... have been able to get in..." she wheezes. "There are wards. There... could be more. This one was probably meant to kill you in your sleep..."
-:08 [Kalan] "Zip! Check on Garm!" Kalan orders.
-:09 [ST] Zip blinks once to acknowledge the order and darts off down the hall.
-:09 [Kalan] He evaluates Matara's condition with a sharp glance. "We'll go to Talek. He may be under attack, and if he's not, he can patch you up."
-:09 [ST] He's back a second later, chirruping in alarm.
-:10 [ST] There's death smell in the hallway. There's cooling bodies in the hallway. Zip is afraid.
-:11 [Kalan] Kalan curses. "Nevermind. Come on." He procedes down the hall towards Garm's room at a run, glancing down at the faces of the dead.
-:13 [ST] Their throats have been opened one end to the other in red smiles. There's a lot of blood.
-:13 [ST] Garm's door is closed, and the body of a guard is slumped against it heavily.
-:14 [Kalan] Kalan tries the door.
-:16 [ST] It opens easily, revealing a scene of utter carnage.  Garm lies sprawled atop his desk, his prosthetic arm splintered on the floor beside him. Aside from its proximity, and the presence of his false leg, it would be impossible to tell the body was him - it's been disfigured and torn into bloody ruin, the face and features obliterated.
-:16 [ST] Matara gives a gasp of dismay.
-:17 [ST] Something rises from behind Garm's desk, thrashing fiercely. A thick white tendril.  It's followed a moment later by another, and another.
-:18 [Kalan] Kalan lets loose a long string of ugly curses, choking down the urge to kick Garm for his stupidity in falling. He lowers Tongue of Flame warily in preparation for the attack.
-:19 [ST] The thing that rises up behind the desk is like nothing Kalan has ever seen or heard stories of. It looks like a stag made of an endless number of knotted, writhing tendrils, the knotted mass miming the shape of the creature from hooves to antlers. Its eyes burn a cold, deadly brown.
-:25 [Kalan] Kalan swallows hard. The fire of Tongue of Flames flickers and burns, and with a shout he raises his arm and tries to take the creature right between wriggling mass of its eyes, driving his spear at its head again and again.
-:26 [ST] Unprepared for the fury of the attack, the creature slips sideways, blurring with essence in an attempt to dodge the flurry of strikes. It dances daintily across Garm's corpse, staining its white hooves red.
-:31 [ST] The creature shunts its head aside at the last moment, but Kalan's strike shears off a writhing antler and digs deeply into the creature's back, burning. The smell is even more hideous than the one produced by the burning Puppeteer.
-:31 [ST] Matara moves forward to strike at the pinioned creature, swinging the ceremonial knife down with both hands.
-:33 [ST] The blade lodges above the Luminita's left eye, but seems to have difficulty penetrating its rubbery flesh. No sooner has it sunk in than the creature springs up, slipping free of both blades.  It bends and reorients itself in ways that a real deer would never be able to manage, thrusting its feet out behind it to hit the wall and propel it forward at the two Dragon-Bloods.
-:34 [ST] As it flies through the air, a tentacle unfurls from the mass on either side, lashing out at both Kalan and Matara as the thing leaps between them.
-:36 [ST] There's the sound of a brittle twig snapping as the tentacle lashes Matara across the face.  She spins to one side and crumples to the floor, head bent at an unnatural angle.
-:39 [Kalan] Kalan snarls, twisting to the side as he catches the tentace with his spear, letting it wrap around the haft and then pulling the back fiercely, tearing the tentacle from the deer's body with a popping noise.
-:46 [Kalan] Kalan attacks without elegance, making brutal stabs at the creature's flanks to drive it away from Matara. There's an awful kind of squelching noise each time he buries the tip of the spear in the wriggling side, and there's less resistance, less...mass to the creature than there should be.
-:47 [Kalan] Little white slugs fall from the luminita's side, screaming punily as they are crushed under the boots and hooves of the dancing combatants.
-:51 [Kalan] Snorting at the constant pricking jabs at its side, the luminita tries to line Kalan up in its sight, its brown eyes glowing, unhealthily luminescent. Tendrils wriggle up its antlers, curving around them, lengtheninng them. It bucks, lowering its head, and charges.
-:53 [Kalan] Kalan twists his head aside and its antlers drive right through the wall. The luminita tries to draws its head back for another charge and then bucks, panicking, as it realizes its antlers are stuck in the wall. Its hooves slide frantically on the polished wooden floor. Slugs drip from it, abandoning ship.
-:54 [Kalan] It's the easiest thing in the word for Kalan to step up and drive his spear right through its brain. It sags, a twisted soggy rag doll, and makes a squishing noise like noodles flung against the floor as it falls and lies stil.
-:54 [Kalan] Kalan covers his nose and decides he's not taking Garm's rooms either, when this all ends. He goes to Matara side, checking her vitals.
-:55 [ST] Matara's alive, though battered. Less so than last time, though. Left to her own devices, she'll probably come around in a few hours.
-:55 [Kalan] This, also, was all too familiar he realizes with annoyance as he heaves her up, wrapping her arm around his shoulders so he could easily slide her off at need. "Zip, find Talek," Kalan says tersely.
-:57 [ST] Zip hesitates for a moment, but seeing the wounded Matara seems to prompt him to dart away down the halls.  It should take him a few minutes to return.
-:01 [Kalan] Kalan glances over Garm's corpse. Dead, very dead. Staggering a bit under Matara's all-too-familiar weight, he takes a look around.
-:02 [ST] As Kalan checks Garm's body, it occurs to him that the injuries the Dragonblood has suffered are far in excess of what it would have taken to kill him; the Luminita must have savaged him for some time after his death.
-:02 [ST] Not that that's surprising.
-:04 [ST] From what Kalan can tell, Garm wasn't doing anything exciting when killed. Considering the fact that he's mostly naked, he was probably asleep. A cursory search of the room doesn't turn up anything but his personal effects (of which there are few) and his Goremaul. It's propped in the corner.
-:04 [ST] He never even had a chance to try to use it.
-:05 [ST] Zip comes back into the room, blinking fiercely as he dives in next to Kalan's face, a spot of bright warmth.
-:05 [ST] His report is, for a change, simple and to the point.
-:05 [ST] �Not there.
-:06 [Kalan] Kalan snarls a curse. He had known not to trust the sorcerer.
-:07 [ST] There's a panicked shout from the hallway
-:08 [ST] "Amercer Garm! There's been an attack! You have to-" A soldier skids to a stop in the doorway, his face frozen in horror as he looks within. "What-"
-:09 [Kalan] "As you can see, Garm has fallen. Report!"
-:09 [ST] "I- uh- ahhh...." he can't seem to look away from the body. He's never seen a Prince of the Earth dead before. Truthfully, part of him didn't think it could happen. And Garm had been one of the best.
-:10 [ST] "We've been attacked. Demons... broke through the wards somehow. We have several soldiers dead on the floor below, and several up here. We've killed a few demons, too.  One coming out of shikari Matara's chambers."
-:12 [Kalan] Kalan nods crisply, pulling Matara up over his shoulder with a grimace. "Call a retreat. We'll establish a defensive zone in the barracks yard."
-:13 [ST] "Yes sir. Is Shikari Matara-?"
-:14 [Kalan] "Unconscious. She'll be awake in a few hours."
-:14 [ST] The soldier nods, then hastens off to do as Kalan ordered
-:16 [Kalan] Kalan limps back to his room, dumping Matara on the bed with a rueful twist of the mouth. The demon's attack was poorly timed. He pulls on his armor hastily, as Zip fits to his side and away again, scouting for damage and demons, and then he slings Matara back up again and tromps down the stairs.
-:18 [ST] Along the way, he comes across isolated scenes of carnage. Shattered weapons, pools of blood.  The soldiers seem to have retrieved most of their comrades, but the bodies of the demons have been left undisturbed.
-:19 [ST] He passes a pair of the needle-covered firmin, a strange broken creature with a body that seems to be made of carved wood, and a Neomah, the demon-courtesan, with a spear broken off in her chest and a knife clenched in her fist.
-:19 [ST] There's no further disturbance before he reaches the barracks yard, where soldiers, including the ones recruited just today, mill about nervously.
-:20 [Kalan] The soldiers had fought well. Stuck together in groups to take down foes too fierce for any of the to destroy alone. The curious absence of combat demons was becoming more troubling however. "Take her inside and guard her," he orders one of the Cynis fangs.
-:21 [ST] They hasten to obey, despite their obvious reluctance to return to the interior of the Manse.
-:25 [Kalan] "As you bloody well know by now, we've been attacked. Armecer Garm was killed in his sleep. Mnemon Talek is nowhere to be found. I am assuming command of the Hunt until our reinforcements arrive." He pauses, clasping his hands behind his back. "You've fought well, all of you, against an underhanded and vicious surprise attack . I'm proud of you, all of you- and but we have a lot more work to do before morning."
-:26 [Kalan] He gives orders for the disposition of the men, tallies of survivors to be made, fortifications to be built and investigations of the wards to be made.
-:34 [Talek] From behind him, Kalan hears shouts of "DUCK" and armored men crashing to the ground. Talek buzzes in and dismounts, looking exhausted
-:35 [Talek] "You would not BELIEVE my night."
-:36 [Kalan] "Matara's hurt," Kalan snaps. "Garm's dead. I think I would. Demons attacked. Help Matara and then find out what the hell went wrong with the wards."
-:40 [Talek] "Shit, Garm? Poor guy was ready to call it quits too."
-:42 [Kalan] "Matara," Kalan reminds him sharply. "Where were you?"
-:42 [Talek] "Let me go heal Matara" he says, looking dejected. The Agata composes a poem on expectation and disappointment, but it is lost to his audience, which tragically does not speak the Steam dialect of Autochthonia.
-:42 [Talek] "later, later"
-:43 [ST] Matara is inside the barracks, lying unconscious on a broad wooden table. The troops have made her as comfortable as possible.
-:44 [ST] All things considered, this is nothing compared to the last injury she suffered. She has some abrasions, but most of the damage seems to be concussion.
-:46 [Talek] "She's going to have a whole forest in here by the end of the week" Talek mutters, pulling hardwood from under his fingernails
-:47 [Talek] He  pushes the wood into her skull at careful spots, reinforcing it to its proper hardness. A few herbal remedies plucked from his hair relax the brain.
-:48 [Talek] "There. Try to wait at least a few days before the next one." he mutterrs.
-:49 [ST] Matara doesn't make any response, but seems to breathe and rest more easily as her wounds bind and her bones harden. She'll be up and around in a few hours.
-:50 [Talek] "alright, now she just needs to rest. About those wards?"
-:51 [Kalan] Kalan has been watching him from the doorway with rather more attention than really required, a hard look in his eyes. "Yes. The demons passed through them. I want to know how."
-:54 [ST] Silken Whisper is a mortal Immaculate, one of the more devout members of the garrison here. He speaks up quietly.
-:54 [ST] "The main wards are on the bottom and top floors of the tower. I don't understand them, but I've seen them many times. It would pay to start there."
-:55 [Talek] "Unless they're Shogunate, they're not worth much. Good for keeping out the riff raff who some mortal summoned and couldn't control, but not much else."
-:55 [Talek] "alright, let's look"
-:57 [ST] Silken Whisper leads Talek to both of the wards, through halls still full of demon corpses and bloodstains.  Both are represented by glyphs worked into the stone, not as if with a chisel, but as with a brush, as if the stone itself had been made malleable.  The story at both wards is the same.
-:59 [Talek] "That? That's not a ward, just a dead piece of stone."
-:59 [Talek] "It LOOKS like a ward though."
-:59 * Talek runs his hand across the symbol, tracing the lines
-:00 [ST] "The wards here had endured for some years," Silken Whisper explains. "Back to the time of the Shogunate, some say."
-:00 [Talek] "Yes, its very well done, but there's not much of it left."
-:00 [Talek] "Anathema Magic." he concludes
-:02 [Talek] "An Exalt can obliterate such a ward easily. But if I did it, it'd be a mess."
-:03 [Talek] "An anathema could kill it quietly though. A Solar, or a Lunar, or an Abyssal like the Maiden."
-:04 [ST] "The wards are ah... checked less often than they should be," Silken Whispers looks at the floor. "Perhaps she did the vile deed before she departed. The Anathema are not to be trusted."
-:04 [Talek] "Or one of the ones who don't exist, I suppose. That would be a proper mess."
-:05 [Talek] He nods. "That may be possible. I should have felt it, but you never know with these monsters."
-:07 [ST] "Can the wards be restored?"
-:10 [Talek] "Yes, but not easily. This was done with a Fae brush, and ink made from some Mountain Folk poision, and the prayers of probably  hundreds of learned Immaculates, and lord knows what else."
-:11 [Talek] "There is perhaps one Sorceror I know of who could do wards like this, and she's at the other end of Creation."
-:11 [Talek] "I can put up wards, but they will not be so powerful. What sort of demons attacked?"
-:11 [ST] Silken Whisper only nods. "This place was important, once."
-:12 [Talek] he looks at the Immaculate. "What sort of education do you have, anyway?"
-:13 [Kalan] Kalan speaks from behind. "There was a hopping puppeteer; a luminita, a pair of firmin, an neomah.....None of them were soldiers. Tools."
-:14 [Talek] "Nothing major. Somebody unleashed their toys."
-:15 [ST] "Very little, my lord," the monk inclines his head. "Only knowledge of the translated scriptures, a few of the lesser martial forms, a bit of banishment and exorcism. Those things the dragons saw fit to give me, and were within my power to understand."
-:15 [Talek] ""And do we have other assitants?"
-:17 [ST] "A handful of monks, but none with my learning," he says it simply, with no trace of a boast. "Clever Tansy claims to have some knowledge of thaumatury, but she is a slave to the addling effects of opium. I do not see why she is allowed to serve this glorious Hunt... but the dragons bend as they will."
-:17 [Talek] He looks at Kalan. "Nothing I have can do a damn thing againist an Anathema Sorceror"
-:18 [Talek] "Maybe I could slow the Demons a little, cause them some pain as they come back.  But it won't be a true ban."
-:18 [Kalan] "What about an alarm? Could you create something that would...shriek when probed, wake us up?"
-:23 [Talek] "Yes, but again, it will all be as nothing before the evil of the Anathema"
-:24 [Kalan] "Could you create an alarm that would ring all-well constantly, though quietly, and cease if destroyed? Something to give us some warning that an Anathema's ripped down all our wards?"
-:33 [Talek] Sigh. "Yes, if you want, but the anathema may be clever enough to keep the alarm up. My knowledge of their magic is not as good as it might be"
-:33 [Talek] "I'll do it, though."
-:34 [Talek] The new wards are painted in blood from a rabbit, sung over beautifully by SIlken Whisper, and built into the grooves of their predecessors
-:35 [Talek] The plants grow into these grooves slowly, nurtured by the blood they have been feed. They sing strange, inhuman songs,  taught to them by the Agata, crying at the pain of such a useless existence
-:37 [Talek] The infernal keening frightens off the Demons, for they know they are laments for a funeral in hell
-----
-:44 [ST] Noon rolls around, and the remaining defenders gather in the conference room to report their findings after scouring the Shatterspear for clues and for artifacts.
-:46 [Talek] Talek sinks into a chair exhaustedly and wipes off some greenish sweet. He smells exactly like wet wood
-:47 [ST] Silken Whisper sits at the far end of the table from the Dragonbloods, trying determinedly not to look at his side, where slender, red-haired, and pug-nosed Clever Tansy lounges, her eyes glassy with opium. Vash and Beauty are also in attendance, along with a few of the Cynis captains.
-:47 [ST] At the center of the table are piled a collection of items uncovered by the various searchers.
-:47 [Talek] "We have a problem."
-:47 [Talek] Talek turns over a sketch he has drawn
-:47 [Talek] "Garm was not killed by a Luminata"
-:48 [Kalan] Kalan returns from supervising the removal of the warstrider from storage, slumped with exhaustion and expended essence. He has been drinking near continually. "What? What killed him, then?"
-:49 [Talek] "I found a small hole at the base of the spine. Someone poisioned him there, or  perhaps they picked that spot to insert some vile creature which ate him alive from the inside out. He was dead before the Luminata got him, that much I'm sure of."
-:50 [Talek] "That spot of the body is very vulnerable, a fact which few Assasins and fewer doctors are aware of."
-:50 [Talek] "Whoever killed Garm was a Brilliant Murderer."
-:50 [Talek] "It is looking increasingly likely that our suspect may be an Abyssal"
-:52 [ST] "Fascinating creatures, those Black Anathema," Clever Tansy says, leaning back. "A pity we haven't had the chance to study one."
-:53 [Kalan] "I'm shocked," Kalan says, ennunciating carefully. "It seems the demon-summoner and our murderer are not acting together."
-:54 [ST] "They both seem to want to kill us," Beauty points out, adding a belated, "Sir." Long years have made her familiar.
-:56 [Talek] "What? Perhaps the demon summoner murdered him using the Demons as a distraction?"
-:56 [Talek] "Why would they not be weorking together?"
-:57 [Kalan] Kalan cracks his knuckles. "That's only natural; we would happily kill them. More to the point, however, there is room to maneuver them against one another. They cannot �both �enslave Ku Shan to their wicked gods."
-:59 [Kalan] He shakes his head. "There was a Luminata worrying at his corpse. A waste of resources, if the sorcerer were nearby, when there were other Dragonblooded in the Manse."
-:00 [ST] "Yes," Silken Whisper adds. "You remind me of the parable of Metaxes, servant of Pasiap, who found himself confronted by the two Boastful Anathema-" he stops himself. "But surely you know that tale. Perhaps if we can play the two sides off each other..." He trails off.
-:00 [Talek] "A Luminata is nothing to these people."
-:01 [Talek] "Just a mount, not even a warrior."
-:01 [Kalan] "But why leave it behind? Why even take if it were so useless?"
-:03 [Talek] "A neomah, a Luminata.....none of these are warriors. Someone summoned them as toys, and sent then at us when  she grew tired of them. Or found them lounging in some ancient tomb, or god knows what."
-:03 [Talek] He shakes his head. "I don't think we know that this is two opponents."
-:04 [Kalan] "The demonic attack smacks of a panicked, rushed newcomer. It would never have succeeded, but for luck; the tools were inappropriate to the task, and now we are forewarned. A successful further assault would be unlikely."
-:05 [ST] "It does suggest a certain ineptitude," Clever Tansy remarks. "Most of the creatures you have encountered could be summoned by a mortal... and not for too odious a bargain. Luminata are said to be satisfied with animal blood mixed with only a small amount of human ichor..."
-:05 [Kalan] "The assassination was the product of quite another hand. It was done elegantly and without difficulty. She - or he- slit the throats of the guards on the way in. Presumably, either a private quarrel or she intends the Wyld Hunt to be used for some purpose Garm would have prevented."
-:08 [Talek] "I don't see it. But there is a third possibility - perhaps we face several Anathema. A bored Sorceror, careless with his toys, and a skilfull Assasin."
-:11 [ST] Matara, still looking bruised and battered from the previous confrontation, speaks up. "Even if these aren't soldiers, they're effective enough at what they do. And they've been trying to kill us, no games involved. If Kalan had been asleep when the puppeteer attacked us in his chambers, it might have-" She stops abruptly.
-:11 [Talek] "Perhaps they are simply thinning our numbers. Perhaps they intend to kill us all."
-:13 [ST] "Hopefully, the resources we've gathered here can prevent that," Silken Whisper says.
-:13 [Kalan] "Indeed." He looks at the others. "We have to decide now what to do with the information we have. There is reason to fear the worst of the fate Avaku and Jorj; they are overdue, and have not responded to a message I sent."
-:15 [Talek] "We have three Exalts here, and only one of us is truly a Warrior." he nods to the Cathak. "We need to rejoin our brothers, gather our troops, and prepare for another assault."
-:16 [ST] "Garm said the Slug would send reinforcements," Matara adds. "How long? Can we afford to wait?"
-:19 [Kalan] Kalan drums his fingers on the table. "I proposed a risky scouting expedition into the Shadowlands to Garm before his death." He stares into his glass of purple wine, swishing. "It may be that those troops will not be reinforcements...but replacements."  He looks up to meet their eyes. "We cannot remain here and do nothing."
-:20 [Talek] "We should evacuate. What is there here to defend?"
-:21 [Talek] "Do we know anything about this mystery Anathema we are supposed to be hunting?"
-:21 [Talek] "It seems we are just here as bait."
-:22 [ST] "Hunting with what?" Beauty sorts through the objects on the table. "A Fuel Bolt Launcher. An essence cannon. A quagmire mine. A cleaning collar. And- And-" She gives a box of blue hexagons a derisive poke. "I don't even know what the hell these things are."
-:22 [ST] "We also found a sizable number of Fire Pearls." Adds Silken Whisper.
-:23 [ST] "Oh yeah, the fire pearls, those'll be great when we need to keep our camp fires going."
-:26 [Kalan] Kalan smiles unpleasantly. "They have other uses, in the cartridge of a bolt launcher. I know just what I want to throw them at." He takes a sip of his wine. "I propose we investigate Garm's written orders, give our men a chance to rest, and march out to rendeveus with the others- or find out what killed them."
-:28 [ST] "About the Warstrider," Clever Tansy adds. "I've had a look at it. Now, I'm no Exalted engineer, but the thing has serious problems."
-:29 [Talek] Talek gestures towards the box of blue objects. "They're lightning boxes. Incredibly powerful emergency tools for us Exalts. I wouldn't recommend fooling with them. If by some miracle you succeded in  discharging one it might very well kill you."
-:29 [ST] "The essence conduit to the left shoulder is busted beyond anything I can fix. You can't get that stuff made anywhere but Lookshy or the Isle these days.  That means the left arm'll be dead weight."
-:29 [Talek] Talek is irritable. "All very nice, but they are not going to stop an Anathema"
-:29 [ST] "I think if I stripped some of the armor and rearranged some things, I could get the arm working again. I think. It'd mean sacrificing some of the protective armor, though."
-:30 [ST] "Your call."
-:30 [Talek] "Perhaps we could summon a  Demonic  craftsman? "
-:30 [Kalan] "Do it," Kalan tells her. He turns to glare at Talek. "Don't even joke."
-:34 [Talek] "I wasn't joking"
-:35 [ST] "There's one other thing," Vash says, entering the room with it in his arms. "I don't know what it is."
-:35 [ST] He folds it out on the table. It seems to be a metal saddle with a pair of handgrips, and rigid stirrups that don't attach to anything. "It was behind a bunch of old wine barrels in the cellar - the demons smashed through when they attacked."
-:39 [Talek] "Oh, Dragons."
-:39 [Kalan] "It's a transportation device." He prods it with a finger. "I'm amazed so much was missed." He scowls. "Can your demons be trusted?" he asks the sorcerer with open skepticism.
-:39 [Talek] "Those things have a personality of their own. I don't recommend it."
-:41 [Kalan] "Then get the other arm working," Kalan tells  Tansy. "I need to be able to fight in it."
-:41 [Talek] "oh, I meant the hovercycle. The demons, eh, they're ok."
-:41 [Talek] "Never had one betray me yet."
-:42 [ST] She shrugs laconically. "I'll give it a try."
-:43 [Kalan] "Don't take any risks," he tells her, eyes hard.  The Ledaal may be able to provide assistance as well, as long as she didn't damage anything irreversibly.
-:44 [ST] "They don't call me Brave Tansy," she says.
-:45 [ST] "The Prince has sent a petition to us," Silken Whisper says. "He appears not to know about the attack here yet, and requests that any seizure of slaves be compensated monetarily."
-:46 [Kalan] "How are our financial reserves?" He didn't feel an particular need to guard the Cynis coffers.
-:48 [ST] "Not good," Matara supplies. "We have a limited reserve of funds, mainly for garrisoning the soldiers and horses. Cynis didn't want us to have too much access to their funds. These slaves will also be expensive... most of them have had extensive training and won't be released cheaply. We should just set them all free and be done with it, no need to deal with the masters."
-:48 [Talek] "Where did the slaves come from?"
-:49 [Talek] "Send the Prince the dead Luminata. That should convince him of our need."
-:50 [ST] "The Prince must keep the Citizens pacified," Silken Whisper points out. "He does not ignore our needs, but rather tends first to his own selfish ones."
-:52 [Kalan] "They were building some palace." Kalan shrugs. "They looked healthy. I requisitioned." He cracks his knuckles. "Silken Whisper, you're a monk. Go to the owner. Point out the benefits of piety. If he remains blind to the needs of his soul, point out the benefits of the friendship of the Immacuate Order. Hell, make donating legionaires-to-be a fashion. We'll have all the soldiers we need."
-:53 [Talek] "You're smarter than you admit, Whisper. Fine, tell him to send his embassy to the Cynis requesting payment."
-:54 [ST] "I shall do both, though I am unsure how convinced the locals will be. They are, I am ashamed to admit, my own people, and I know their reluctance."
-:54 [Talek] "I am sure the Cynis will be happy to keep his embassy entertained for a few decades while  they decide the matter.  Or the Cathak's plan"
-:57 [Kalan] "Any other points to bring up?" Kalan asks.
-:59 [Kalan] When silence greets him, he nods sharply to them all. "Then we adjourn."
-:04 [ST] Suddenly, a bolt of brilliant blue light darts through the window, stopping by Talek's head.  It hangs inchoate for a moment before fizzling and forming an image of V'Neef Jorj's face.
-:04 [ST] It opens its mouth and begins to speak, the voice harried and hurried, unlike the casual smile on the messenger.
-:06 [ST] "Talek, it's Jorj. We're having serious problems here. This place is overrun - they've been reading that damn book. Avaku's hurt bad,  and I'm all alone. My demons are dead - you know me, I never could work up the courage to summon one that could fight worth a damn. Now it's biting me in the ass. Listen, the Defenders have been reading the book. The idiots here had kept them unlettered, and thought they couldn't- it doesn't matter. There are lots of them here, and they've gone off the deep end. Whatever you do, don't-"
-:06 [ST] The head flares brightly, then winks out
-:08 [Kalan] In the stunned silence that follows, Kalan says "We need to talk to the Prince."
-:11 [Kalan] "What kind of forces does Cynis have in this satrapy?" he asks Matara. A couple Cynis legions would be muscle enough to squash the Defenders and allow the Hunt to concentrate on the Anathema.
-:13 [ST] "A couple of dragons, at most, just house troops. This satrapy's been pacified for so long, Cynis never worried about it. It was content to let it police itself."
-:14 [ST] "Life was too good for the Citizens to rebel... and if the slaves ever did, the Defenders would be on our side."
-:17 [Kalan] The Cynis were useless. What a surprise. "We don't have time for a redeployment, and the Citizens are too lazy and fat to be of much use. We're going to need to scale up our arming of slaves if we expect the satrapy to survive. The Dead are fomenting chaos and discontent, and I expect they'll be marching to 'restore order' once the government has collapsed."
-:19 [Talek] "We need a damn counterspell."
-:19 [Talek] "This book is just going to kill the whole world unless we figure out how to stop it."
-:20 [Kalan] "Fire and carefully targeted massacres are counterspells enough, once everyone is prepared and warned. This thing can be contained with blood. Does your study of the pages in your possession give you any ideas for countering it?"
-:24 [Talek] "No. The damn thing doesn't seem to be sorcery atall."
-:26 [Talek] "Its fiendishly clever, I don't know how they're doing it."
-:26 [Talek] "What happened to the  Maiden?" he says suddenly
-:27 [Talek] "This has Abyssal written all over it. "
-:27 [Kalan] Kalan looks at him, rigidly impassively aside from a little twitch at the corner of his mouth. "We've seen neither hide nor hair from her."
-:28 [ST] "Since warning of the ambush, she vanished and has not returned."
-:29 [ST] Matara looks as if she doesn't mind that fact at all.
-:33 [Talek] "It's her, or her vile allies. The Solars hated the dead. It reminds them of their sins."
-:34 [Talek] "Well, what now?"
-:35 [Kalan] "We alert the Prince and the Satrap. Organize defenses. And then we find our Abyssal enemy and hang him from the rafters"

Difference between revisions of "DKDragons/SessionFive"

Latest revision as of 18:25, 27 June 2012

Navigation menu

Search