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Exalted Session 33 - The Carnival of Meeting

The characters rest and wake on the 3rd day of Calibration, triumphant glory still ringing in their ears. They feel it would be appropriate to visit the local shrine to the Unconquered Sun and pay their respects. They find it in a dire state – nothing more than a begging bowl beneath a chalk drawing of the Sun in a smelly alley off the Street of Small Gods - nonetheless they pray to the sun and even stump up for an underfed sacrificial goat. Alana (failing her Compassion roll) becomes rather over-enthusiastic when carrying out the sacrifice and the others have to restrain her butchery: “It’s okay, dear, I think it’s dead now…” Still, one good sand storm and the blood will surely come off the walls…

The Immaculates shun the now public Anathema as they walk down the Street of Small Gods. In a well-choreographed manoeuvre, the monks and worshippers turn their back on the Exalts. The Captain tries to throw a rock at them (well, their backs are turned, why waste the chance?) but Alana stops him. Instead he hires urchins to scrawl “Immaculates suck” all around the place. Far from being epic heroes of legend reborn, we contemplate turning the gaming into a campaign of petty, petty playground politics and one-upmanship as the Solars consider writing letters to the newspaper complaining of the loudness of Immaculate gong ringing, or having the Night caste sneak in to mix their white robes with the red in the laundry!

(Speaking of the Night caste, Jak has revealed her true name to the Circle – Shisu – though I still think of her as The Ninja Formerly Known As Jak ™…)

Anyway, after donning the best finery they can lay their hands on, they eventually make it Yu-Shan - a glorious continent-city of white shining walls, quicksilver canals, magical clouds and endlessly bountiful perfumed gardens. An amazing array of gods, Exalts, spirits and mortals are all enjoying the Carnival of Meeting. Here, a minotaur lord walks his whippet-gawd familiar. There, a nymph flirts with a gargantuan serpent. And over there, a small rain cloud follows a blue feathered Thunderbird around.

Chejop Kejak, their sponsor for the evening has anticipated their arrival and positioned himself to be the first to meet them. He thanks them for saving Gem and apologises for not being able to do more to help them, lamenting how bureaucracy grinds so slowly in Heaven these days. Orchid archly comments that a warning might have been nice.

“Well there is an Excession level event due to form in the Font of Mourning in the next few days. Plus our spies in the Courts of Chaos reveal that the Baloran Church is gaining enough influence amongst the Fair Folk to launch a new Crusade, powerful enough to threaten Creation. We call them CTE’s – Creation-Threatening Events. That’s Wednesday, by the way.” Says Kejak.

Burning Brand, ever-conscientious in his role as a consulting detective and oath-bound guardian of Gem, quizzes Chejop Kejak. Brand understands that the fate of Gem and that of Creation as a whole have become entangled. But how could this happen? Chejop sadly advises him that it is the result of a terrible accident on the Loom of Fate. The threads for Gem and Creation were woven together and, alas, all is now in confusion. "Well," Brand asks. "Can't we fix it?" Chejop assures him that remedial action is already underway:

“We are very pleased with our progress to date,” He explains, “and have taken very important steps to move this process along with maximum efficiency."

"Couldn't we help to move it along?"

"Alas, only the Chosen of the Maidens have clearance to directly work upon the Loom. Security precautions, you understand, and a matter of protocol. It has been so for many millennia, to rush into procedural changes at such a delicate juncture would be intemperate."

"Okay, how about some help with these Creation-Threatening Events, then?"

"Would that it were possible. Regrettably, personnel issues have reduced the resources available to the sub-committee dealing with the South of Creation. Restructuring, unfortunate early retirements, retraining, organisational requirements... Rather than an ideal complement of 20 Chosen, the sub-committee only has 3 available and they are already fully-occupied."

"So you're saying we can't do anything..."

"Of course not. A select committee has been formed in order to evaluate the issue and determine the most appropriate action. I expect their decision to arrive at the appropriate juncture, in the fullness of time, when the moment is ripe..."

"Can we talk to them? You know, hurry them along a bit. Can't help thinking it seems quite important..."

"One could submit a report. The committee is still in the evidence-gathering phase of their enquiry, and I'm sure that they would welcome the testimony of individuals with first-hand experience of the issue at question and would give said testimony due consideration in their ongoing deliberations."

"So how do we submit this report?"

"Oh, the usual channels. In prayers..."

With that, Chejop turns to greet new arrivals. Brand grumbles under his breath and joins the party; it would be so much simpler if there were something he could smite. But he is already musing on how he can spur the celestial bureaucracy into action...

The Watch decides it is only right to chat with Serjeant Colon, Patron Saint of Watchmen. He’s a moustachioed, rotund god in mismatched armour and seems to be guarding the buffet table by taking into the custody of his stomach a large quantity of free food. He tells the Circle how he has loyally guarded the Jade Pleasure Palace from being stolen for 6,000 years.

“Stolen much is it, Guv?” Enquires the Captain.

“Well we did have that one Night Caste with ideas 3,000 years ago. Didn’t have a hope really though, poor boy never knew what hit him when he sneaked inside.”

”Have you gone in there, helped yourself?” winks the Captain.

"Oh no, all the big nobs are in there. Not worth my existence if I were to try, what with the ‘You-Know-What’ ‘n all”

“Oh Right. Must be going!” says the Captain, never to learn of the Games of Divinity….

Rav talks to Gen, God of Nexus. He’s a loon, muttering “Buggrit. Millennium hand and shrimp”. But he does mention one or two things in his insane ramblings- a ‘Hollow’ below Nexus. And though mad as a hatter, his encyclopaedic knowledge of Nexus leads to the following muttering. “Yes, yes, yes. Bugrit’ millennium hand and shrimp! Ravitsu Cail?. Boy who became a Watchman? Son of old Magda who worked 3rd Street and that Dragonblooded officer. So bright, so handsome, on his steed. What was the name? Sesus. Sesus. Yes, yes, yes.”

Alana talks to Ayesha Ura. The Saviour of the Gold warns her about becoming enmeshed in Chejop’s plans - he is sure to test the Solars to destruction. After all, he was the Chief Usurper at the end of the First Age… Ayesha also warns Alana to look out for the white-haired Sad Ivory, for she is Chejop’s chosen Assassin of Fate…

Ahlat, a bluff Northern god (complete with accent) congratulates Shisu on “Fine ‘ecatomb you put on t’ table, lad. Aye, reet grand it were, 'aven’t eaten so well in many a year. Took Mrs Ahlat an ‘oole day te cook!”

Shisu also receives a gift from “…”, God of Mimes who mimes opening a box and giving him a round object. But since she doesn’t quite have the faith in miming to really believe in it (too long in Gem, perhaps) it turns out to be nothing after all. Orchid, true to her Gem-ish upbringing, tends to sniff disapprovingly whenever “…” is nearby. Shisu also takes a chance to taunt Sseth by flaring her new totemic anima – a mongoose in silhouette which Ssseth hisses at warily, before asking her if she wouldn’t rather be off stealing something: “The Golden Apples of Immortality, perhaps?” But Shisu will not rise to the bait and resists the dare, though she gets some Limit in the process.

Drink in hand and feeling more… relaxed… by the moment, the Captain falls into conversation with Plentimon, the God of Gambling. Plentimon tells him of a wonderful game he has devised – YasalQuest, where the players collect decks of cards showing the spirits and monsters of Creation, playing them in cunning combinations to overcome their opponents in the game. “Don't worry,” he cajoles the Captain. “The first pack’s free…” Plentimon explains the arcane rules of YasalQuest in a torrent of verbiage as cards and counters whirl around the tabletop. And the Captain is hooked: “Bah! How hard can it be?”

Plentimon sets up the game but, before the first card is turned, he casually mentions the issue of a stake. After all, what fun is a game without a gamble? If the Captain wins, Plentimon will bestow upon him good fortune in games of chance. If, however, he loses, the Captain will owe Plentimon a favour. “Yes, yes! Whatever you want!” And the game is on… It’s astonishingly confusing to the uninitiated, a storm of jargon flies around the table - tap this, turn that, move the other to the graveyard… - but the Captain holds his own with a combination of raw cunning and beginner’s luck. The game is deadlocked! A smiling Plentimon offers to toss a coin for victory. The Captain can have the choice, heads or tails:

“Ah. Erm, heads!”

Plentimon’s golden coin tumbles through the air – heads, tails, heads, tails, how will it land? All eyes are on the shining disc as it comes down…

TAILS!

The Captain has lost! “Not to worry, my friend,” smarms Plentimon. “I’m sure you’ll win that favour back. Double or quits…?”

Just as it seems that the Captain is about to head down this dangerous path, Orchid intervenes. In the nick of time, she introduces Burning Feather, the Goddess of Intoxicants to the conversation: “Have you met Captain Ibrahim? I’m sure you’ll get along like a house on fire…” The Captain is awe-struck as he gazes at this vision. Both of his favourite things – boozing and wenching – embodied in one perfect form. Two vices for the price of one! For her part, Burning Feather is overcome by the feeling that she has found a true disciple. The game of YasalQuest cannot possibly compete with such chemistry.

Rav is talking to Grala, Mistress of the Endless Hunt. Distracted as he is by her two hounds, which constantly thrust their cold wet noses at his crotch and that of any unfortunate passers-by, he still manages to impress her with his knowledge of huntin’ 'n' shootin’. Thrilled to find a kindred spirit, not like the usual bloodless townies who go on about cruelty, she invites Rav to a Behemoth hunt in the jungles of the South East. Should be “Jolly good fun, make a fine trophy on your wall, eh?” Though he has the distinct feeling that there’s bound to be some other menace to Gem and, therefore, the whole of Creation on his plate by then, Rav promises to attend if he can.

Orchid has been nursing a glass or two of heavenly wine. The vintages of Yu-Shan are not to be treated lightly and the wine goes to her head, which was already swimming from the intoxicating aura of Burning Feather. Orchid moves - very nearly in a straight line - for the Captain, who is enjoying the company of Burning Feather, and slaps him across the face, ranting:

“I’ve been wanting to do that all day! You’re an idiot! How could you fall for it? How could you sleep with that demon whore and think it was me? The worst of it is, I actually quite liked you...”

Burning Feather’s train of thought is derailed by this: “What?!” But the Captain ignores her for now and taunts Orchid: “I worked out she wasn’t you. She was better than you – less clothes, prettier…”

“You child!” Orchid cries, as Rav & Alana move in to drag her away from the Captain before she makes an even more embarrassing scene. It’s bad enough already - as party-goers, who have only partly heard the argument, begin to spread the rumour that the Solars have spawned a demon child.

The Captain heads off to find a quiet corner and placate Burning Feather and Alana pours coffee into Orchid in a vain attempt to sober her up a little. Rav sets about quashing the “demon child” rumour before it gets out of control. As he does, he encounters a slender woman, tall enough to tower over even Rav, who seems to be made of aluminium and glass. This is Wun Ja, Goddess of the Shining Metropolis and Director of the Bureau of Humanity. They briefly discussed the long and rich history of Gem, including a brief mention of the post of Minister of Defence for the Old Realm. Rav's attention is drawn away from this illuminating historical discussion, though, by Wun Ja's passing mention of Amoth City-Smiter in relation to Gem. Pressed for further details, she advises Rav that Amoth , who is the Sub-Director of Bribery & Finance reporting to Wun Ja herself, has sponsored a prophet who is whipping the desert nomads around Gem into a religious fervour. It seems that he preaches a crusade against Gem and has already gathered a mighty horde. Rav sighs and adds this to his growing list of Creation-endangering threats.

Over at the ornamental gardens, Shisu has been keeping an eye out for Chejop’s assassin, Sad Ivory, who she now realises is stalking her. A duel of stealth follows as they try to out-ninja each other, flitting between the shrubberies, trying to lose each other behind clusters of revellers, seeking out pools of shade to hide in… The struggle goes unnoticed by the other guests as Shisu darts around a trellis, and flips up onto the roof of a gazebo, dropping down to surprise Sad Ivory as she walks beneath.

“Who are you?” Shisu asks. “I don’t know you.”

“No,” The white-clad assassin smirks. “But I know your brother.”

“How? Where?” Shisu is taken aback.

“Wrong question – you should have asked when. I was the last person to see him alive…”

The conversation is interrupted as Alana & Rav approach. Hardly wanting a confrontation with three Solars, Sad Ivory performs her Avoidance Kata and, just like that, she was never there.

“Did you see her? She said-“

But Shisu’s friends saw nothing. Even though Shisu can remember the conversation, they are sure that she was alone at the gazebo. "After all," Sad Ivory muses from a safe distance: “I was never there.”

Unfortunately for Orchid, the coffee that Alana brought her has had no real effect (every roll Orchid’s player made to resist alcohol or recover from it was botched!) Emboldened by alcohol – Paragonese courage, as they say in Gem – she approaches Lytek in search of illumination about her stolen Exaltation (see Session 10 for the sordid details).

“Just what would happen,” she asks. “If an Exaltation that was meant to be given to one person actually, erm, happened to somebody else?”

Lytek pauses to give this due consideration. “The thief would be punished accordingly. Nothing too draconian – perhaps a thousand years entombed in solid rock or something of the sort. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason, just curious. Anyway… I must be going.”

Orchid turns to escape into the crowd and walks right into the burly, fur-clad form of Yurgen Kaneko, the Bull of the North. She chatters drunkenly to him about the dreams she has been having about the north, all mammoths and snow. The conversation turns to Northholm – has Yurgen, Orchid wonders, ever heard of this place? She is horrified to learn that the town is menaced by ice giants – a good friend of Yurgen’s, Arrack, was sent to negotiate with them, but Yurgen hears that he was eaten by them. Very touchy, it seems, these ice giants...

Orchid is stricken: “It’s all my fault!” She wails, sobbing uncontrollably on Yurgen’s shoulder. He does his best to comfort her, even giving her his mammoth fur cloak in the hope that a gift might cheer her up. It does no good, and he is left confused when, with dawn approaching and this year’s Carnival of Meeting coming to an end, Rav, Alana & Shisu collect Orchid. As she insists on telling them that they are her best friends, no they really are, they head for the gate home to Gem.

Meanwhile, in another part of the sprawling celestial city, the Captain is waking up, not for the first time, in an unfamiliar bed and with an all-too-familiar hangover. When he dares to open his eyes, he is shaken by the sight of Burning Feather asleep beside him – it seems that she is only beautiful to those whose vision has been enhanced by the intoxicants she embodies. Her allure cannot withstand the cold, sober morning light. The Captain shudders and makes to slip away without waking her. He is brought up short, though, when he notices a new gold ring on his finger. Surely not! Surely this cannot be… a wedding ring?!

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