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-:43 [ST] Kalan, Talek, and Cynis Matara face a rapid journey across the Inner Sea on the ship <i>Dragonwing</i>, a newly retrofitted First Age cutter that has been recently added to the Wood fleet and is taking a short shakedown cruise.  Its Peleps captain is, like most of House Peleps, talkative and arrogant, regaling all who will listen about the ship's capabilities. Surely, light implosion bows have never been discussed at such length, with such passion.
-:44 [ST] For the most part, Matara isolates herself during the journey, occasionally training quietly on deck with her green jade daiklave. She seems to have few words for anyone or anything.
-:45 [ST] At last, on the fourth day of travel, the Dragonwing's efficient essence engines deliver the vessel to the Kushan harbor.
-:46 [ST] The city rears above the coast, a pentagonal structure with its point facing inland. Its curtain wall is thick and low, and a number of onion shaped domes and crenellated spires poke above it, their metal surfaces winking in the sun.
-:47 [ST] The harbor around the Dragonwing is packed with ships. Some are merchant cutters and a few are warships, but most rather run-down looking slave barges, full of human cargo from Harborhead and other nearby satrapies.
-:53 [Kalan] Cathak Kalan steps off the ship, still loooking a bit green around the edges. His head pounds from too much alchohol drunk as remedy. He is still dressed in his resplendent red jade armor, his spear strapped across his back  He exchanges a long, level look with the captain, dipping his chin incrementally at last. The water-aspect returns the gesture, charity for a dead man.
-:54 [Kalan] There's a bandage hiding fingerprint-shaped burn marks around his neck.
-:55 [Kalan] Cathak Kalan whistles his scale out, and they depart in an orderly fashion, in fine spirit. Zip babbles excitedly, causing a stir by dashing erratically around the dock and streaking up someone's robe.
-:58 [ST] Cynis Matara follows Kalan down, standing aloof from the fire aspect and his men. Her own troops are due to arrive soon by a different ship.  Her eyes dully sweep the chaotic snarl of the docks. A little way ahead on the docks, a queue of slaves has formed up to demonstrate their writing ability on an impromptu desk made of crates.
-:59 [Talek] Talek walks off thinking that for once, Kalan is the greener of the two. He giggles a little at his private joke. Henry shakes his head disapprovingly
-:59 [ST] The man behind the desk, a tall and lean individual with the tortoiseshell earrings that mark him as a free resident of Kushan, glares down at something a young man has written and then gives him a sharp slap in the face, turning to howl at the other citizen behind him.
-:59 [ST] "Literate means REALM literate! Why do you bring me this trash?"
-:00 [ST] Seemingly unconcerned about this common occurence, a pair of Dragonblooded shoulder by the altercation as the slave is hauled back onto the barge.
-:03 [ST] The man in front is tall and lean, wearing armor of elaborately worked red jade. His hair is short and dark, and he has a thin goatee. His right eye is gone, replaced by a patch.
-:04 [ST] Behind him comes a shorter man in robes and an elaborate breastplate, with a cheerful face and short red hair. Talek recognizes him as V'Neef Jorj, a fellow graduate of the Heptagram and somewhat notorious troublemaker.
-:04 [Talek] "HEY JORJ!"
-:05 [Talek] The crowd part frightfully for the screaming Dragonblood, although a few children steal glances at  the monkey. Talek strolls up to greet his infamous colleague with a grin
-:06 [Talek] "So, summoned any Snow Demons recently? Eh?"
-:07 [ST] "Talek, you old son of a bitch, I hope you haven't lost your mind now that you're done with your studies and knee deep in- er," He shoots a look at the other Dragonblood, having the good graces to look a bit sheepish. "Interesting things. No summoning for me recently, the Order's not a fan."
-:08 [ST] The other Dragonblood inclines his head slightly to the newcomers. "Mnemon Talek, Cathak Kalan, cousin. I am Cynis Denovah Avaku, here to welcome you to the satrapy and the city of Kushan."
-:10 [Kalan] Kalan returns the gesture. "Avaku. You have a formidable reputation."
-:10 [Talek] "Indeed." Talek says, shooting an impressed glance at Jorj
-:13 [ST] "As do you," Avaku returns. "News from the Realm is that the two of you saved House Cynis and much of the Imperial City from utter disaster. Let us hope your reputation isn't exaggerated."
-:16 [Kalan] "We are soldiers of the Realm," Kalan replies cooly, glancing slightly at Talek as if momentarily hesitating to include him in the description. "We will manage. Are there recent developments? Our news is days old."
-:16 [ST] Jorj raises his eyebrows at Talek's monkey, and it gives a little squeak, probably remembering the time Jorj and his brother loaded him into a makeshift trebuchet. "Family had me sign up to build character," he remarks. "Plus, this whole thing, riding across the Threshold, killing demons from beyond, soaking up the adulation of your lessers... it seems like a very Dragon-Blooded thing to do, I think."
-:17 [ST] "There are," Avaku responds to Kalan, "But we should not deal with them here. If you will follow me, we have horses prepared at the end of the docks to take you to our headquarters. Your men should come as well - they will be quartered there."
-:20 [Talek] Talek follows. His 'men' consist of a Sasha and Misha, a couple of dubiously competent young medical assistants, who carry his extensive baggage - or they order the lesser servants to carry it, anyway.
-:20 [Talek] As he follows, he mumbles to Jorj, half in old realm and half in Infernal "So what'd you do that they shipped you out, huh?"
-:26 [ST] He shrugs, looking about nervously. "That's the strange thing, nothing like what you'd expect. I was heavily into research on the Anathema, you know that's always been my thing, and I found some references to a different type in some excavated stuff from the Threshold."
-:27 [ST] "Did you know there was another kind of Anathema? I was looking into it because of these new ones, the Black Anathema, and found that there were others... shapeshifters who wore the faces of others, but not like the Lunar demons. They could be among us right now." He rolls his eyes. "Or it could have been that scandal with the magistrate."
-:27 [ST] "Either way, the fam said if I liked Anathema so much, I should hunt them."
-:29 [ST] "Oh!" He stops himself. "Before I forget, I have something for you. Came the other day." He fishes in a pocket and pulls out a small, flat box, no bigger than his palm. As he hands it over, Talek notices that it's very finely made, with gold inlay. An engraving simply reads:
-:29 [ST] MNEMON
-:30 [ST] "Guess they knew you were coming." His eyes burn with unspoken curiousity, but he says nothing. He once said that it took over fifteen consecutive slaps in the mouth to make him learn to keep it shut as a child, and the lesson never quite took.
-:31 [Talek] "Well I sure hope you know what you're doing with these new anathema. Will we be hunting them, or the old fashioned kind?"
-:31 [ST] "Well, that's the question, isn't it? So far as I can tell, nobody's SEEN anyth-"
-:32 [ST] "That's enough," Avaku says sharply, mounting one of the waiting horses. "We'll be at headquarters soon enough."
-:32 [Talek] "You sure it isn't just one of  those crazy masks I used to 'borrow' from Inst-"
-:33 [Talek] Talek looks annoyed but keeps silent. He still had the scars from the last time he annoyed a Fire Aspect
-:36 [Kalan] Zip squeaks curiously. It hovers by Avaku's ear, pulsing in excitement.  Kalan snaps its fingers, and it draws back reluctantly, chirping unintelligeble questions.
-:36 [Kalan] Kalan raises his hand, and his scale forms up in orderly ranks. They are well-disciplined soldiers, the cream of Cathak, and their lives have been given to him to spend. He gives them an ironical glance , because he is sure they also have orders to kill him should he run. He mounts a bay mare, pulling it up beside his guide's.
-:38 [ST] The horses are surefooted and well-bred, and the populace makes way for the procession.  Avaku leads you down broad avenues and through bustling marketplaces. Slave training facilities loom up on either side - brothels, each catering to one of the specific Seven Arts of Pleasure, schools of music, where the trilling of flutes is interrupted by blows and sharp curses (but never to the face).
-:39 [ST] Fully three-quarters of the people who move through the streets are slaves, marked by their red armbands.  The Honored Ones, the free citizens of Kushan, move among them imperiously, recognizable by their tortoiseshell accoutrements - bracelets, earrings, chokers, and in a few cases, an entire half-shell worn at the side of the head.
-:43 [Kalan] Cathak Kalan sits stiffly on his horse, pushing it past slave and citizen alike, not so much glancing to either side.
-:45 [ST] The procession skirts the edges of the city, avoiding the chaotic markets and traffic around the royal palace at its center, and soon enough arrives at Shatterspear, a towering structure that looms far about anything else in the city, sprouting from the leading point of the city's pentagonal walls.  Once, it was obviously much, much taller - now its crown lies shattered and splintered, hence the name.
-:46 [ST] Avaku reins in at the base and dismounts, handing off his horse to a groom. "Here."
-:49 [Talek] Talek dismounts. Henry chitters nervously
-:51 [Kalan] Kalan reins up, looks at Shatterspear unreadably from his horse for a long moment. A smile twists his face, and he laughs, shortly. He dismounts, tossing the reins to a lacky in more-or-less the right garb, and doesn't share the joke.
-:51 [ST] Avaku ushers you within with little more ceremony, and up a winding stair into a room fitted with a broad, low table.  At its head sets a squat, ugly man, his hair hard and crystalline as salt. His nose has been broken several times, and he wears an eyepatch over his right eye. His right arm is made entirely of jade, crudely worked, stiff. He gives a grunt as the others enter.
-:51 [Kalan] Kalan reins up, looks at Shatterspear unreadably from his horse for a long moment. A smile twists his face, and he laughs, shortly. He dismounts, tossing the reins to a lacky in more-or-less the right garb, and doesn't share the joke.
-:52 [ST] "I'm Ragara Garm," he says, "Amercer of this.... Hunt, I suppose. Seems more like the scrapings of a stable to me, but what do I know?" He waves a hand. "Sit."
-:56 [Kalan] Kalan stiffens slightly, unaccustomed to this treatment. A scowl passes across his brow. . "Indeed," he says blandly, as he sits. "We are short our complement of scouts. Pleased to make your acquaintence."
-:00 [ST] "I'm sure you are. WIsh I could say the same. Truth be told, I'd rather not be here, and I was promised retirement, but duty calls. I won't make this long. You'll have sleeping arrangements above, and access to whatever we have here at Shatterspear. Not that that's much. A couple of daiklaves and breastplates. The tower mounts a single Essence canon, but I don't trust it."
-:01 [ST] "There's a mothballed warstrider down in the wine cellar that's probably just as likely to tear off your arm as work, but it's there. Combining the troops you've brought and the ones due to arrive, we have about a dragon's worth of men. We can wring some support from Kushan but I wouldn't count on most of them in a fight."
-:04 [ST] "I wouldn't poke around too much, though. This is an Old Manse, and the Anathema have been at it. It doesn't like us Princes of the Earth too much," He gives a harsh chuckle.
-:08 [Kalan] Kalan shrugs. "Quarrelsome architecture is the least of our worries." He examines the Ragara silently for a moment, and his lip curls. He picks up an empty glass with a jewel of red liquid still lingering at its bottom, and waves it in the air. "Wine cellar?"
-:10 [ST] "Don't get excited, it's been empty for centuries as far as I can tell. So has most of this place.  Locals say it's cursed." He grunts. "Maybe that explains what we have to deal with here."
-:13 [Kalan] "Indeed." Kalan pulls a wineskin from his armor, unscrews the cap, and pours himself a glass. "Avaku said there was news." He tilts his head back and drains the sour red less respectfully than it deserves.
-:16 [ST] Garm flexes his jade fingers. "Yeah, and none of it good. There've been the usual whispers for a couple of months. Shadows in the night, babies disappearing, all that crap that you hear out in the Threshold, could be a Karmeus or Fair Folk or just something some peasant found in the bottom of a wine glass." He stares pointedly at Kalan. "A month or so ago, there was a revolt in the Hinterlands by our agricultural slaves that had to be put down."
-:17 [ST] "The revolt was suppressed, but there was talk of Anathema... of a book... several books, which had been circulated and some of which we recovered. That got them worried, and the Hunt was called. Now, we have two disasters occurring at almost the same time."
-:19 [ST] "First, we've had reports of rioting in Ghan itself, the city where the Defenders are trained. Most people here are still calm, figuring that the Defenders will put down the rebellion the same way they always have... but some of them seem to be joining in. Considering Defender conditioning, this should be impossible."
-:21 [ST] "Second, there were also reports a few days ago of fighting breaking out in the hinterlands near the village of Higara. The violence was said to be extreme, and a contigent of Kushan soldiers were sent to investigate. They haven't returned."
-:22 [ST] "Kushan's too busy dealing with the problem in Ghan to get anything else done, and they're not handling it well. Now that you're all here, we can start taking steps to see just what in the infinite hells is going on here."
-:23 [Kalan] "What sort of book?" Kalan slurs his words slightly to annoy the man, pouring more wine and swishing it in the glass. He ignores the more relevant issues. It was just the sort of petty behavior he hadn't engaged since he was a raw fangleader, and he finds it perversely satisfying. He'd have sentenced a man to the stocks who did it to him, Dragonblooded or no.
-:27 [ST] He scratches his chin. "We only have a fragment, the rest were destroyed... deliberately. It's a.. story. A set of parables about a young boy who wants to honor his dead ancestors. The kind of casual heresy that drives the Order into fits. But this book... a pamphlet, really..." He hesitates for a moment.
-:28 [ST] "It became popular with the agricultural slaves here. THe uneducated, illiterate. Once they had the book in their hands, once they tried, they were able to read." He snaps his jade fingers. "That's the sign of an Anathema. Mass conversion, strange behavior... it always comes back to the Anathema."
-:30 [Kalan] "So we go to Higara, burn the creature out, and come home heroes. Is that the plan?"
-:33 [ST] "There isn't any plan, not till we know what's going on. I'm not the kind of man to breathe over my subordinates' shoulders.  Some of you will go to Higara, some to Ghan. Word is that backers are trying to get us more Dragonblooded for this hunt, but it may take time. In the meantime, you should split yourselves as you see fit to investigate these problems."
-:36 [Kalan] "Divide our forces?" Kalan says skeptically. "Against Anathema?" It was madness. They would only weaken the concentration of their forces sufficiently to be defeated in both places.
-:40 [ST] "Necessity, Kalan. We can't afford to allow one problem to lapse while attending the other. Furthermore, the slow pace of its actions suggest a young Anathema to me, inexperienced, unsure of itself. It hasn't challenged us in battle yet.  Should you feel out of your depth however... you may feel free to retreat." He smirks slightly.
-:43 [Kalan] Kalan fixes him with a cold, challenging stare. "I won't retreat." He drains his second glass. "Show me the book."
-:46 [ST] "The book is in a vault downstairs, under guard. You are free to see it if you wish."
-:48 [ST] "I will go to Ghan and assess matters there," Avaku says. "I've served here for some time and they know of me.  If any of you wish to accompany me, you may, but I can handle myself alone if need be."
-:51 [Kalan] "Better you don't, if there are indeed Anathema. Alone, one is vulnerable to....all sorts of things." An ugly smile crosses his face. "Matara, you are knowledgeable of Cynis business interests, are you not?"
-:53 [ST] "I-" a spasm crosses her face. "I know what every member of a House should regarding its business and interests," she says, voice brittle. Avaku raises an eyebrow.
-:54 [ST] "It's all the same to me," Jorj says with a shrug. "I can kill Anathema in settings both urbane and bucolic." He almost seems about to put his feet up on the table, but after a look at Garm decides to refrain.
-:00 [Kalan] Kalan studies her face silently. There was...something there, and she lacked the customary Cynis flare for cover up. He changes his mind. "With your permission," Kalan says crisply, "I will take Matara, the doctor, and the monkey  with our respective troops to investigate Higara." Better to split the sorcerous firepower in any case.
-:03 [ST] "Ah, all the charms of the Threshold," Jorj quips. Avaku looks askance at him, but doesn't protest.  Instead, he rises. "We'll depart as soon as possible," he tells Jorj.  Before he leaves, he turns to Kalan and Talek.
-:03 [ST] "Be careful with that book. I've seen it already."
-:06 [ST] "If there's anything further, I'll be in my office," Garm says. When he rises to stump towards the door, it becomes obvious that one of his legs is also made of jade.
-:07 [Kalan] Kalan salutes them both with the wine glass.
-:12 [ST] After a moment, Jorj follows after them, giving Talek a quick wave.  Matara lingers the longest, looking at Kalan with a bitter expression, before slipping away.
-:17 [ST] Kalan and Talek are lead downstairs by a guardsman in Cynis livery.  The Manse's winecellar is cool, dry, and filled with broken and seeping casks.  The promised Warstrider slumps in a corner, heavily cobwebbed and forgotten.  A pair of guards stand at a staircase leading downward, and another before a heavy door.
-:18 [ST] He bows slightly as you arrive, throwing back the bar and opening the door. "It's inside," he says, seeming almost fearful, afraid to look within.
-:20 [Kalan] Kalan nods absently, paying little attention to the mortal's fear. He stumbles a little at an unexpected final step downward. "Drunker than I thought, damn me," he laughs to no one.
-:21 [Kalan] Zip pauses by the guard, caressing his face briefly with its warmth, and then darts down after Kalan, flaring brightly to provide illumination.
-:22 [ST] The "book" - or rather, what's left of it - rests on the center of a crate, turned face down and so rendered unreadable.  It's a few bare, tattered sheets, and seems ill-cared for, as if those storing it here were afraid to even touch it.
-:22 [ST] The guard moves aside eagerly, and does not look within.
-:25 [Kalan] Kalan turns it over idly.
-:28 [ST] The script on the opposite end is mechanical and crude, not the elegant curves of proper Realm calligraphy, but like something made by a machine, the letters blocky and uneven. It looks to be written in Old Realm, or at least some butchered version of it, the intricate letters smeared until all subtlety is lost. There's a childish charcoal scrawl in the center of a human figure holding up a sword against a dragon.
-:30 [Kalan] This was what had terrified the guard?  He turns a page.
-:30 [Talek] "Henry, what have I told you about writing books?"
-:39 [ST] As Kalan looks at the pages, something seems to move behind them, some hidden power lurking behind the words, surging up to press against his eyes and mind. In the back of his head, he hears a strange Whisper... a sob and a laugh all at once.
-:40 [ST] But he is the Chosen of the Dragons, and stronger than any mortal could hope to be, and does not break.
-:42 [Kalan] Kalan knocks the book away with a hissed oath. Zip comes closer to pages with a curious coo, and perhaps it is lucky that the little sprite cannot read. The page blackens a little from the closeness of its heat.
-:42 [ST] The same power reaches out for Talek and scrabbles ineffectively.
-:44 [Kalan] "It is an evil thing," Kalan says after a pause, staring at the book.
-:46 [ST] The story seems simple enough - it's the tale of a young man named Po Tah who engages in adventures which teach some obvious parable. All you have is fragments from various editions, so there's no coherent storyline, but Kalan seems to recognize a pattern of subtle blasphemy against the Immaculate religion and a focus on ancestor veneration and blood sacrifice.
-:48 [Talek] "Is this the only copy you have?"
-:49 [Talek] He looks at the guard standing around. "Well?"
-:49 [ST] "They tell me it's not a complete copy." The guard doesn't turn around. "The same people who propagated the book quickly started destroying it once they were discovered."
-:50 [Talek] "This book is a work of powerful magic. I very much doubt mortals could truly destroy it."
-:51 [Kalan]  Kalan stares mechanically at the book, still shell-shocked.  It's beginning to smolder from the fire elemental. "Zip," Kalan calls him back automatically.
-:51 [Talek] "wait"
-:52 [Talek] He rips out a page and hands it to the Fire aspect. "Here, try. See if you can unmake it, but the rest I must send back to the Heptagram."
-:53 [Talek] "It stinks of Anathema magick, and it will invade the mind of any who read it."
-:53 [Talek] "Still, it is a  powerful spell and should be studied."
-:55 [Kalan] Kalan stares at him, the torn page in his hands. "Are you a �fool�?" he chokes. "This is - this thing is foul. And you want to study it?"
-:57 * Talek laughs
-:57 [Talek] "Half our Sorcerous knowledge was passed down from the Anathema, and the other half was stolen from Demons."
-:58 [Talek] "Yes, I intend to study it - its magic, not its contents."
-:59 [Kalan] "This book is the property of the Immaculate Order," Kalan says automatically. "It should remain in their hands." He sucks in a breath, thinking of what havoc this evil could wreak in the Realm. "Some magic is not worth having." Zip whistles in ambiguous agreement, flaring up dazzling and swirling around in a little cyclone of fire. Kalan ignites the page in his hands.
-:00 [ST] The page burns as quickly and as briefly as any piece of cheap paper.
-:02 [ST] "Ragara Garm has ordered that the book not be tampered with," the guard says halfheartedly, out of fear of offending the Dragonblooded or sincere gratitude that part of it has been destroyed. It's difficult to tell.
-:03 [Kalan] "Put it back, Talek. There are dozens or hundreds of copies floating around...send one of those to the Heptagram, if you must."
-:04 [Talek] "Copied by a peasant's hand. Only a Sorceror could work the Enchantment"
-:05 * Talek rips out a page. "One for the Heptagram" he rips out another "And one for my Grandmother."
-:06 [Talek] "There. The rest are yours. Quite a bargian, eh?"
-:08 [ST] The rest, considering the destruction and the theft, amount to a couple of tattered sheets.
-:09 [Kalan] Kalan snarls. "You would give this evil thing to your �grandmother�? That sorcerous bitch would use that magic to enslave us all if she only knew how?" Ignoring the interested and alarmed presence of the guard, Kalan unstraps his spear. "Put it back, sorcerer," he says, his voice like ice. "it is not leaving this place."
-:09 [Kalan] Zip shrieks, burning, growing bigger.
-:16 [Talek] "Is your disgrace not great enough already?"
-:17 [Talek] "If you put my head on that spear, whose will be next, do you think?"
-:19 [Talek] "How do you think that sorcerous bitch keeps the realm safe? How did the Empress keep the realm safe? With drunks and traitors?"
-:20 [Kalan] Kalan's face goes white. The House had promised to keep it quiet; they must, for it was their shame as well. He should have known. Half the Dragonblooded Host would have heard of it by now.  With a sound that is half the like the shriek of a bonfire, and half like howl of a wildcat, Kalan launches himself at him, flames blazing around his hands as he wraps them around the sorcerer's throat, squeezing.
-:20 * Talek sneers and puts the papers away, but his bow had made it into his hand and Henry has beaten a hasty retreat"
-:21 [ST] There is the rapid sound of boots hitting stone; the guard is running for it.
-:23 [Kalan] He looks barely human, his face twisted, flames billowing about him, a far cry from the cold, chill officer Talek had seen at parties, years ago. He doesn't even seem to notice Henry's teeth biting his ear. Zip flies at the monkey, shrieking. Kalan breathes heavily. He wants to kill the wretch. He could, at make up some story after.
-:24 [Talek] Talek darts to the side, a spec of flame flickering from Kalan to him as he activates a charm. Such is the spiritual fellowship of the Dragonblooded that they borrow each other's strength even for their fratricial battles
-:26 [Kalan] "What do you know- about keeping the Realm safe- you- " His words are punctuated by blows. He has forgone the spear, even forgotten its existence, it seems . "Bedding down with demons in  your heretical lair, as better Exalted die-"
-:27 [Kalan] He launches himself at Talek across the crate, and licks of flame drip down onto the loose pages the sorcerer had left behind.
-:28 [ST] The sparks go just wide of the pages, sizzling out against the crate's surface.
-:29 * Talek leaps over several crates and lands close to the wall. "Calm yourself!" he snarls
-:32 [Kalan] Kalan's flames illuminate the cellar in a hellish red light. He kicks a half broken wine cask out of his path, and advances on his Dragonblooded brother. In the corner, Zip dwindles, drawing back from Henry with a coo of concern. Kalan does not look calm. He looks murderous.
-:33 [Kalan] He flicks the splinters of a broken crate off his sleeve.
-:34 [ST] There's a scuffle at the door, an alarmed shout, and Cynis Matara is there, her daiklave in hand. "I... was going to come see... the book..." she blurts, eyes darting between the two fighters. "What-"
-:37 [Talek] "Call off your murderous cousin" Talek snarls
-:40 [Kalan] Kalan' jerks back, his dropping the hand that had reached for Talek's throat. He struggles to take a breath, and all at once the wild hatred drains from him, replaced by a mask of white calm ."I beg your pardon," he says coldly. "Talek and I were having a discussion." He clenches a fist. "I leave you to conclude it." He turns on his heel and brushes past her, reaching out a hand.
-:41 [ST] She looks after him, then back at Talek. "I think... perhaps it would be best if we all left the vault now. You can tell me of your findings later."
-:41 [Kalan] His direlance leaps to him in a gout of flame.
-:42 [Talek] Talek breathes a sigh of relief
-:42 [Talek] "let's. How about dinner?"
-:44 [ST] She looks at him with an unreadable expression. "I dine alone."
-:47 [Kalan] Talek feels a hot, stinging sensation against his hand, as if he had brushed a hot pan. Zip zooms out the room, satisfied it had gotten the last word, as Henry hurtles monkey insults after him.
-:48 [Talek] he sighs. "Very well then, Cynis Matara. I'll see if my Sorcerous colleague is hungry. " He grins, remembering a certain exotic dinner unwittingly prepared by the school chef. "I'm sure he will be."
-:48 [Talek] ......
- ------
-:49 [Talek] A bit later, Talek has struggled up to what passes for his quarters. The small room is made out of some imperishably white material and is immaculattely clean. Unforunate that the structure of the building was not so well constructed.
-:50 [Talek] His equipment still packed away and the pages hidden, he inspects the box from his Grandmother.
-:52 [ST] It's locked, but there doesn't seem to be any keyhole, just a finger-sized indentation. Maybe if he tries feeding it some essence...
-:54 [Talek] Talek raises his hand. There is aburst of beautiful green light for a moment, wild and free, and then the Sorceror shapes the energy into a small, unglamorous twig, and inserts it into the keyhole
-:56 [ST] The box's lid folds back, revealing an elegant brooch, made to be pinned at the shoulder, with jade clasps and a bright blue stone. There is a note pinned in the lid.
-:56 [ST] "You may enjoy wearing this. I hope you will share your discoveries with me, and allow me to share with you in turn."
-:56 [ST] THere's no need for a signature.
-:02 [Talek] Talek's hand shakes a bit, but in the end he pins the brooch onto his sleeve, between his greaves and chest peice.
-:08 [ST] As Talek feeds essence into the device, it glows brightly, the blue stone suddenly seeming to birth countless tiny threads of essence.  They sway to and fro for a moment before darting upward, painlessly making their way into his ears.  After flaring brightly for a moment, they vanish again.
-:09 [Talek] Talek listens carefully, but he doesn't really expect to hear anything.
-:10 [ST] No sooner is the deed done than there's a rustling, and then the voice of Mnemon.
-:10 [ST] "Talek... I see you got my gift."
-:10 [Talek] "Yes, I'm honored."
-:12 [ST] "As you should be. I'm sure I don't have to explain to you what this device does. At any moment, you may spend a mote of essence and speak to me."
-:14 [Talek] "I shall use it wisely. The Hunt here is in disrepair, that fool Cynis has already gotten drunk and attacked me, the staff is a not a quarter of what we need, and so forth, I will spare you the details. But,"
-:15 [Talek] "We've found a teasure. The Anathema built a book to steal the minds of the peasants. Its enchantment is powerful, well beyond the Terrestrial level. I shall send you a sample for your analysis."
-:15 [Talek] "Is there anything else I can do for you?"
-:17 [ST] "Good work," Mnemon all but purrs. "This book does indeed interest me, bring me a copy if at all possible. Beware the intrigues of the Cynis... that Cathak is ill-suited to the Hunt, and Ragara Garm is too old. The last Anathema he killed nearly finished him, and he is a broken man who refuses to admit it."
-:17 [ST] "Something about this Hunt is suspicious. You must find out why."
-:20 [Talek] "So far much is suspicous, but one thing I need mention - another Sorceror claims to have discovered another kind of Anathema, and thinks we may be hunting one."
-:20 [Talek] "It seems this Unnamed Creature is a master of disguise. I remain skeptical, but my colleage was convinced, and he is not a gullible man. I'll keep you updated."
-:20 [ST] "Another kind of Anathema? You mean the death-touched? They call themselves Abyssals."
-:21 [Talek] "No, not them. A fourth."
-:22 [Talek] "It seemed they were masters of disguise, and had unique essence signatures, unlike any of the others."
-:23 [Talek] "I have heard of no such thing, but my knowledge is small. Perhaps there was some secret prison where they were kept?"
-:24 [ST] "I see. I have heard nothing of these Exalted. I will begin an inquiry, but I urge you to keep silent on this matter."
-:25 [Talek] "I doubt it merits your attention. An Anthema who happens to be good at secrecy, so of course you have never seen them. Its too perfect. But as I said, my colleague was convinced."
-:26 [Talek] "Is there anything else? I know your time is valuable." he says, thinking of his dismissal last time
-:27 [ST] "I'll contact you later if anything comes to mind. Keep me appraised of what is occurring. If I seek to speak with you, the brooch will feel warm to the touch."
-:31 [Talek] "Thank you Grandmother"
-:31 [ST] "Serve me well, and the rewards will be great." There is a sharp click, and she severs communication.
-:35 [ST] -------
-:37 [Talek] The pair meet in what was very clearly meant as a storage room. Unbreakable shelves line the walls and the true free space is abit cramped, but its warm and the ancient lights still work here
-:38 [Talek] A maidservant, clearly terrified to be in the presence of the two godlings, waits on them as rather lavish 'rations' are served
-:38 [ST] "You must be getting paranoid in your old age," Jorj says with a grin. "I thought you'd take me somewhere �nice.�"
-:39 [Talek] "You looking to romance me? You've fallen a long ass way from V'neef Nirona. God, I wonder what happened to her."
-:41 [ST] "In your dreams. This just reminds me all too well of plotting Heptagram mischief with Fraedo." He taps a finger on his chin. "Nirona... I think she's in the Red Piss legion now after that incident with the Neomah... no, wait, that was Nona..."
-:43 [Talek] "mmm, Nirona with a Neomah. That'd be fun to watch."
-:43 [Talek] "So what on earth did you find on these new Anathema?"
-:44 [ST] "The instructors didn't think so... these things never work out anyway," Jorj waves a hand. "Of course, SOMEONE might have tipped them off..." At the mention of the Anathema, his mood seems to grow more serious.
-:44 [ST] "Nothing much, just a few obscure references... about destinies that they change like clothes... and being touched by the Five Maidens - the stars, I mean. Strange."
-:44 [ST] "None of the anathema lore has them on record."
-:49 [Talek] "Where did you find it, then?"
-:50 [ST] "I was in the Threshold doing excavations as a Guild liason, there were some documents there."
-:51 [Talek] "You think its from the First Age, then?"
-:52 [Talek] "Strange. Have you found any o ther evidence?"'
-:53 [ST] "Possibly." He shrugs. "I think someone didn't like it, though. My family was never very understanding about my fascination with the Anathema, and this... well, it also didn't help that I was discovered in... ahhh... intense religious discussion with an Immaculate Monk."
-:53 [ST] "Nothing, not even any contradictions in the official records. Whatever these Exalted are, they're not even mentioned."
-:57 [Talek] "ha! A mortal monk or a Chosen?"
-:59 [ST] "Come now, do you even have to ask?" Jorj gives a wide grin. "What did YOU do to get here, Talek? I guess you went with the mortal."
-:01 [Talek] "I was born, I guess"
-:02 [ST] "As good an excuse as any, I guess. What do you make of all this? I remember joking about this stuff all the time..." He grows a bit sober. "Now it seems real."
-:02 [Talek] "My family's about as unconnected and hapless as you can get and still be Mnemnon. The Slug got the idea that I would make a good Wyld Hunter. I made him promise he'd pull in some favors to help me secure a marriage. Don't want to be stuck with some 'patrician who's really very well bred'"
-:02 * Talek shrugs
-:04 [Talek] "The stuff about the Anathema who hide their fates is a little iffy, to be honest. "
-:04 [ST] "I'm engaged to Sesus Mara... face like a hatchet, personality to match... but what the hell," he shrugs again. "She's only my wife."
-:05 [Talek] "There's no way to prove it or disprove it of course, unless we had some kind of essence signatures or artifacts we could track."
-:06 [Talek] "It would explain one thing though, I never could figure out why the Maidens had a magical metal but no Chosen."
-:06 [ST] "Nothing that I've found... for all I know, I unconvered some kind of ridiculous fairy tale."
-:06 [Talek] "Heh. And hey, someone's gotta keep all those 'celibate' monks happy, right?"
-:07 [Talek] "So what do we know about the Anathema we're actually tracking?"
-:09 [ST] "Well, I can tell you a bit more than old Garm was willing to, but not much more, as far as I can tell, no one's actually seen them besides a bunch of toothless old peasants who probably see Anathema in the slop they shovel down."
-:12 [Talek] "So how do we know they even exist?"
-:19 [ST] "Well... you saw the books... what else could do that? Nevertheless, there are a few sightings that almost resemble each other... a young woman, a young man, dark hair... glows like the sun itself." He nods. "Sound familiar?"
-:22 [Talek] "So its androngynous. Great, just my type."
-:26 [ST] "It'll be my first... if I even see it."
-:31 [Talek] "I rather hope we don't."
-:32 [ST] "Yeah, well... I wouldn't be surprised. I can't believe the Cynis are even trying to hold this place, everything in the East going to hell and all."
-:32 [Talek] "They gotta hold something."
-:33 [Talek] "We need to regroup. We need a new Empress or it'll just be the south next."
-:35 [ST] "A new Empress... I don't know," he shrugs. "I'd be happy to have to old one back. Or have anyone step in. The Cynis think they're safe here, though. If the Mask were to attack an official satrapy, the Realm would have to answer with war."
-:35 [Talek] "Let's hope so. Say, I was going to summon a demon tonight. Any good spots?"
-:36 [ST] "Well, you get straight to the point.  You know the Order doesn't approve, Talek..." He smiles. "Of course, when has that ever stopped me? I've cleared out a warehouse near the docks... it has a circle and an external cage, but it's not sturdy. If you summon one, it may be able to escape."
-:40 [Talek] "The Order doesn't approve, shit, I forgot. I wanted some Blood Apes."
-:40 [Talek] "But I suppose I'll settle for something subtler. I appreciate your generosity, brother."
-:41 [ST] "It's nothing," Jorj nods. "Graduates of the Heptagram have to stick together, after all."
-------
-:45 [ST] Some time later, when night has settled over the domes of Kushan, Talek finds himself on the top floor of a warehouse rented out by V'Neef Jorj.  The building is in some disrepair, but it is from the First Age, and its stone walls are extremely thick, its windows small and shuttered.  A summoning circle is engraved in the middle of the floor.
-:48 [Talek] Mnemnon Talek has bathed and had his brilliant green armor and bow polished for the occasion. He almost looks like a respectable warrior, and not a Sorceror, but then he begins to chant, and his hands glow with a terrible rusted yellow
-:50 [Talek] Liquid rust f lows about his hands, and the runes on the circle dance. The noise of an infernal parade drifts in as a Princess of hell beats her drum in Malfeas, the land outside of Creation
-:51 [Talek] Waves of yellow rust mingle with the verdant green of the elemental Champion. "I call out to Agata, the Jeweled Wasp!"
-:04 [ST] The agata bursts through in a flare of light, hanging half in and half out of a screaming rent in the air. Hot green light spills from around the edges.
-:09 [Talek] "Agata, beautious wasp, serve me, your glorious master."
-:11 [ST] The agata trembles in place for a moment before lunging at Talek, crystal wings humming wildly - but then it lurches back, struck by the sorceror's will, and lands in a buzz of wings.  It bows low, mandibles brushing the floor in submission as it begins to trill an elaborate poem of servitude.
-:12 * Talek laughs
------

Difference between revisions of "DKDragons/SessionTwo"

Latest revision as of 18:23, 27 June 2012

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