Difference between revisions of "Ketrus/C1S7"

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Dramatis personæ

Ketrus/C1S7/IronSoul : The circle's Dawn.
Ketrus/C1S7/Key : The circle's Twilight.
Ketrus/C1S7/PlatinumStorm : The circle's Eclipse.
Ketrus/C1S7/Ibis : A Full Moon helping the Solar Circle in their struggles.
Reacher in Darkness : Another Full Moon ordered to keep an eye on Ibis, apparently.

Snap : An Air-Aspected Terrestrial young man Ibis knows from Greyfalls, when they were both mortal.
Mr. Lowtide : A Lunar of unknown caste, missing a few marbles who commands a large landship, with a motley crew of mutants and beastmen. Player writes him in the third person, and I'm too lazy to format it out.
Ania : A Wood-Aspected Terrestrial young woman the circle has captured, to save her from certain execution.

Summary

An important note is that nobody had anything logged during sessions 4-6. We're real sorry for this, and now ArkKetrus/C1S7/Ibis is the designated logkeeper. Thus, this summary will be uncharacteristically long.

After the events of Session 3 and Cutscene 1, the Circle embarked out towards the ruins of a First-Age Orichalcum Refinery. With defenses set up by Aimless Key's first-age incarnation, they slowly pushed their way to the heart of the place battling through a legion of Blood Apes, a near-formless Second Circle Demon and various automated traps before finding that the entire place actually operated on some kind of ancient magma-eating slug. Nobody had any idea how they worked, except for the God of Vices, who has been locked down there for thousands of years and won't let on the secret unless the circle can satiate him. Defeated with this impossible task for now, the circle left to start looking for possible leads on this.

Upon going back to the surface, they found their mechanical horse blown to bits all over the place, slowly dragging itself back together as impossibly complex artifacts are wont to do. Nadira was also missing, and once the horse was repaired, Iron Soul took it upon himself to find her and took off on the horse, leaving everyone else behind.

To summarize: Nadira had been taken by a Deathknight, claiming his name was Errant Son. More intriguingly, he claimed to be Ibis's Solar mate, clearly from before he took the plunge to evil. His control of Nadira had reverted her to her first-age self, and in a last moment of clarity she threw herself on Iron Soul's sword, killing herself.

The rest of the party, unaware of this, continued to track down Reckless Draught and get a letter of introduction for his grandfather. By their logic, if anyone can satiate a God of Vices, it might be a God of Booze and Partying. They are waylaid by a Lookshy commando force, who in turn are actually sent out to let two of the group's leaders, Ania the Wood-Aspect and an Earth-Aspect who refused to give his name to any of the players, get killed honorably because they otherwise terrible and worthless.

When things couldn't get any more complex, the betrayal happens as Mr. Lowtide's enormous gross-ass ship smashes into the scene and all hell breaks loose. Ibis nearly kills the Earth-Aspect, and is about to try to get his prone body out of harm's way when the Lookshy forces start their betrayal. Platinum Storm fights Ania to a standstill, when an errant cannonball takes her hand off at the wrist and knocks her out from the shock. The circle talk as fast as they can to convince the Lookshy forces not to kill her because they're an awfully nice bunch of chaps, and because the girl's grandfather is the one in charge. So really, they have a good shot at this.

And now, just when you think things are about to calm down, Iron Soul is on the scene with the bad news. . .

Session Seven

<Narrator> --- <Narrator> Following the direction of the ring which links him to his surviving brethren, Iron Soul rides through the night, past dawn, and deep into the next day. Never tiring, never even looking aside in his journey, he acts at least as much the automoton as his mount, the resilient Iron Horse that far exceeds its mortal inspiration in its endurance, and in its terrifying appearance.

<Narrator> Even it pales before the unnaturalness he finds, however, once the ring at last indicates he has begun to catch up with his brother and sister. A massive engine of wood and steel, smelling of brine and sweat and a thousand kinds of blood, it is shaped into a cruel mockery of the sea-faring vessels that sail the river waters. The sight of the thing plowing through ground and leaving furrows ten feet deep...

<Narrator> ... is almost as unsettling as the crew, easily visible even from a great distance as mutants and miscreants, complete with a Buck Ogre on the crow's nest. The... ship, if it can be called that, travels towards Nakiahl, the meeting point arranged for him and his Solar brethren, and they are obviously on board.

Iron_Soul's eyes narrow as he looks down at the ship, and its unsavory crew. He tries to see any sign of them on deck, for if he can't, then he'd have to worry. Were they taken captive? Somehow coerced, or brain-washed, like the sister even now lifelessly hanging in his arms?

<Mr`Lowtide> Among the milling creatures, there would stalk something decidedly Other, clearly of more divine- or some subtle alteration thereof- nature. Long-limbed and rigid-gaited, a tophat shoved at a strange angle on top of salt water-tangled mane. A grand goremaul is draped over his shoulders, and it's clear from his rattling, burbling bellows that he's the Captain of this misplaced nightmare.

Aimless_Key sits up on deck, leaning against the side of the ship as she carves with her knife at her flame pieces, doing a little maintinance. She looks up suddenly, then her eyes widen as she sees Iron Soul and his... passenger.

Iron_Soul squints down at the strange, goremaul-wielding one. Clearly that will be his first target, when he swoops down for his assault. Knock the captain right off the deck, then swoop in amongst the crew and cut them down, chopping down a mast in the mean- oh, there's Key. Nevermind.

Iron_Soul brings the iron horse running down from the skies, clopping its hooves onto the deck. Slowly, Iron dismounts and faces Key, Nadira hanging limp in his arms. "I failed."

Aimless_Key has no words for this, staring blankly at Iron Soul, "How... What happened?"

<Mr`Lowtide> "Nyehhh? Newcomer? Wonderful." A leering, angular face would turn to the guest, algae-green spittle finding its way down the ruts his scars made in his chin. But no extra attention was given to the man, as he began to bark more orders to the crew, and stalk off with creaking joints.

Iron_Soul kneels down and gently lays Nadira's body on deck. He doesn't look up as he speaks. "Some guy in robes. . .called himself the Errant Son. . .he messed with her mind. Made her lose it. Made her think she was her old first age self. They both attacked me, and during the fight, she jumped into the path of my blade. I think she was trying to disarm me. In a way, it worked."

Reacher is still napping on deck, a hell of a lot more hale than he was the last time you'd seen him. You know, stomach bug and all.

Aimless_Key closes her eyes, slumping heavily against the rail of the deck, "Describe everything you can remember. Quickly, while it's fresh in your mind. Then we'll... Figure out something."

<Narrator> A shorter fellow with a scraggly beard interjects, poking Iron Soul on the elbow and smiling toothlessly. He's got eyepatches on both of his eyes, but fortunately enough he can see out of the third that's staring at Nadira from the middle of his head. "Hey, mate, that for sale? I know a guy in Nexus who pays top quality for pretty stiffs, and..."

Iron_Soul 's shoulders slump. He continues looking down at Nadira as he takes a deep breath, pausing only to smash the one behind him with a single gauntleted fist, mostly an afterthought. Then he tells what he recalls, of the robed man and the bloody zenith circle on his brow, of Nadira's change to 'Atrophy' and her twisted anima, of the general sense of darkness that was about them. He tells all he recalls.

<Mr`Lowtide> At which point Lowtide leans in, standing on a cross-line of thick, molded rope, his beaky nose stabbing over curled mustachioes, towards Iron Soul. Silver tattooing shines through greened scars and pallid, wet-looking flesh, vying for the surface with sickly-looking veins. "Ah, tough luck, good sir!" A thumb would wipe over dull, black eyes, wipe the slime on a stained blouse... and then hail towards the pair in an odd, ungainly salute.

<Mr`Lowtide> "Grits are down below, if you're so inclined. Being the sparklies that you are, I'd suppose you aren't!" Lowtide looks around shiftily, and then leans over to whisper as though it's a big secret. "It's a bit... foul. Kyeh heh heh!"

Iron_Soul dully moves his helmed head toward the supposed 'captain' and his bothersome squawking, then turns back to Key. "Do I want to know why we're on this ship?"

<Aimless_Key> We have wounded, and it was moving in the same direction. And they're a benign kind of completely nuts.

Iron_Soul 's voice nearly kicks up to its natural tone. "Wounded. Is the threat still out there? Following?"

Aimless_Key shakes her head, "Dealt with in full."

Iron_Soul nods his head, the metal over his shoulders creaking slightly. "Good. Any other surprises?"

<Aimless_Key> Lookshy has entrusted one of theirs into our care for... re-education. She's a dragon. I trust there will be no problems so long as she raises none?

Iron_Soul jerks his head back in surprise. "Lookshy? We're in a deal with Lookshy, for 're-education?' That is absolutely insane. So we've either collected an agent for Lookshy to report on us, or a soldier that's so ill-disciplined that they'd rather send her off to anathema than train her further."

Aimless_Key chuckles, "Not quite. They would have rathered we kill her. I feel if they want assassains, they can bloody well pay for them. Instead, we'll help her find the balance she needs, and she'll help us. She's not bad, you know. Not your equal, but who is? And just maybe they'll remember our efforts when time comes to defend this place from the Walker."

Iron_Soul pauses for a moment. ". . .honorable 'discharge'. That makes more sense. Still, if they went that far concerning this dragonblood, that alone should tell you something. Are we actually enlisting this one, or just letting her tag along and possibly stab us in the back?"

<Aimless_Key> Enlisting, I think, unless you have a terribly compelling reason not to.

Iron_Soul tightens his gauntlet into a fist. "If she's enlisted, then she's /my/ responsibility now. We're going to need to have a conversation soon, she and I."

<Aimless_Key> Allow me and Platinum to work with her for a while first. She's going to need some grounding before your instruction will be helpful.

Iron_Soul says ". . .fine. 'Prepare her', if you'd like. But make sure she understands that this is her last chance. If it doesn't work out, I won't risk sending her off to die while knowing our secrets, like Lookshy did. I'll take care of it myself, if it comes to that."

<Narrator> that
<Narrator> that
<Narrator> that
<Narrator> that
<Narrator> that
<Narrator> that
<Narrator> ---

<Narrator> The DVD continues skipping until someone swears loudly and hits 'next chapter'
<Narrator> ---

<Narrator> Snap is still wincing, holding his hands near his crotch in sympathy. It's been half an hour, you'd think he might've gotten over it by now. "Man, I gotta say, I still feel sorry for Platinum."

<Narrator> He shakes his head one more time and jumps off the edge of the ship, landing lightly on the ground as the wind cushions his descent. "Ah. Back to the ass end of nowhere." He looks over the bustling main street of Nakiahl, now featuring a dozen or so people working to repair the damage of the Drought.

<Narrator> A few seconds later, the Buck Ogre in the crow's nest lets out a loud roar, startling the men and women who had just now grown used to the sight of the monstrous landship. With a throaty, inhuman voice, it snarls, "tOOown SpODDDED, CAPPEN!"

<Narrator> His telescope is planted straight in the other direction.

Ibis stampedes her way out of the ship, barging straight up the stairs and out the door into the fresh air. "Haaaaa~aaaaaaaaah! Free! Free at last!"

Aimless_Key makes a mental note to kill everyone and everything aboard the ship at a later date as she helps carry a very much wounded Dragon-blood off the ship, "Bring Nadira. We'll give her a proper burial soonest."

Mr`Lowtide lifts the insanely thick iron vault-door, rising from the deck a few inches to peer out in a devious manner. "Blech! Good riddansssce!"

<Aimless_Key> Lowtide! <Aimless_Key> These people are doing you a service. Remember that. Be courteous to them, and ensure your crew are the same.

Ibis all but hauls Aimless Key and Snap through the town square excitedly, going through each building in somewhat meticulous and overzealous attention to detail searching for their good ol' buddy, god-child Reckless Draught. At the rate she goes, he's more likely to find them by the racket, but so it goes.

Mr`Lowtide blows a wet-sounding kiss Key's way, then finally unfolds from the deck, dragging his mallet up with a clang before kicking the cap'n's quarter's door shut. "I'll show you a service, lovey."

<Narrator> He bursts out of the infirmary, smiling and happy. He's quite a bit less pale than the last time they saw him, and it looks like he's actually put on a little... pudge, in the last two weeks. With a glad twinkle in his eyes, he utterly overlooks the massive landship stopped and anchored just outside of town, and shouts amicably, "You're back!"

Ibis gives an undefeatably bright grin and folds her arms, releasing Key and Snap respectively. "We're back, alright! Things are lookin' pretty good around here, good on ya!" she chirps brightly.

<Narrator> "Absolutely!" shouts a jovial woman balancing up on a primitive scaffold to work on the walling of a nearby building. Draught waves at her and continues, "Yeah! Once they regained their strength, nearly everyone in town jumped at the chance to start the rebuilding. It's probably because we simply haven't felt this ALIVE since before the Drought hit."

Aimless_Key grins, "I'm glad to hear it, Draught." She pauses, then sighs, "Unfortunately, we didn't just drop by for a social call."

Reacher stumbles behind everyone, eventually catching up, his shirtless form very clearly showing him to have wacky tattoos and a slender build. "how come nobody woke me?"

Ibis turns her head to glance at some of the construction work. "We've been goin' onwards still... gotta save the world!" she adds, driving home Aimless Key's statement. "And yeah, that's kinda where you come in. An' yer dad." <Ibis> Y'wanna hear more?

<Narrator> His smile falters, but only a little. "Ah... well, what did you need to know?" Something about the mention of Draught's father...

Aimless_Key sighs, then launches into a quick description of the Vice God's woes, without explaining the situation surrounding the encountering of said god or why, indeed, he needs to be appeased.

Ibis punctuates Aimless Key's story with very vague, gesture-aided descriptions of demons and bad guys exploding in fountains of gore or wells of light.

<Narrator> Reckless Draught listens carefully, paying full attention. At the end, he simply takes a short moment to collect himself before shaking his head and sighing. "I don't have any idea what you might use to sate a real vice god--especially if he's as powerful as you suggest. Their whole nature is to NEVER be sated. You're asking for something utterly impossible... in Creation, anyway. You're headed for Great Forks, aren't you?

<Aimless_Key> It's on the list.

<Narrator> "Well, you'll need something Heavenly if you're serious about this, and Great Forks is halfway there. What do you need from me?"

Platinum_Storm emerges from the ship in due time with Nadira's body in tow, spitting any of the other crew who so much as look at the body funny with a rather fearsome glare.

Reacher waves his hands to emulate the others as they tell the story. his eyes expressive and his mouth flies open at the exciting bits, his beard framing an "o" of suprise.

<Ibis> Well, I needed ideas! I'm no good with this kinda thing.

Platinum_Storm other than that seems rather... diminished, for reasons that should be obvious.

<Aimless_Key> Any advice you might have about Great Forks, any people we should contact... that sort of thing... <Aimless_Key> ...Also, we'd like to do a small burial here. Nothing fancy, just enough to give her a little bit of dignity. This last request is much quieter

<Narrator> "Well. Look." He turns his head, as if distinctly uncomfortable. With a voice almost too near a whisper, he says, "This isn't the safest place for that. We're still close to not one, but two shadowlands. If you're sure... I'll make arrangements with Knack. He's proven far more helpful than I would have guessed these last two weeks, and he can at least make sure her grave is protected." <Narrator> He speaks up again, before they can respond. <Narrator> "And yeah! I'll be glad to give you a letter of introduction for my grandfather, if you really think you can find him. The problem is that he doesn't actually, well, live anywhere. He's got an estate, he just never uses it."

Ibis looks vaguely troubled. "So... what, he wanders about?"

<Narrator> He laughs jovially, and loudly, continuing his attempts to cover up his earlier, quieter statements. "Oh yeah! He just goes from party to party... the problem is, he always shows when he's not invited, and tends to be hard to find when you're after him! They say he's never repayed a debt, not in five thousand years."

Ibis taps a foot four or five times, and then pounds her gauntleted fists together. "Got it! So we throw the biggest party in the country and he oughta turn up?" Ibis trails off as reality sets in. "... that could be kinda expensive..."

<Aimless_Key> There's more than one way to bait a trap, Ibis, as I'm sure a hunter of your standing knows.

Platinum_Storm sets Nadira down on a few wooden crates gently, glancing over to where the others are speaking to Draught. He does try to catch Key's attention if possible though.

Ibis mulls this over out loud, "But I'm only good at hunting dumb animals an' dumber people, not vice gods 'n booze gods."

Iron_Soul stays a distance away, standing by the iron horse and waiting. He doesn't seem interested in talk, at the moment.

<Narrator> Snap is visible in the background, borrowing some rope and planks from the building crews

<Aimless_Key> If you two will excuse me?

Aimless_Key moves over to Plat, cocking her head in question.

Platinum_Storm glances at Nadira for a moment before speaking in a low tone. "Arrangements for the.. burial?"

Aimless_Key nods.

Platinum_Storm nods. "What's the plan, then?"

<Aimless_Key> Tonight. Simple thing. I'll make sure that... no one can disturb her rest afterwards. Will you take care of the actual ceremony bit? I'm... a little short on words.

Platinum_Storm closes his eyes, a flicker of pain dancing across his face. "I... can try. Though I'm short on them as well with... this."

<Narrator> --- <Narrator> <Insert Life-Changing Soulful Experience Here> <Narrator> ---

<Narrator> "I hate you," Ania says in deadpan, still nursing the bruise on her forehead. It's morning at the only functional tavern in Nakiahl, used for the first time since the Drought to hold the Exalted for the night after the funeral. Snap flashes her a malicious smile. "You're just mad I got the drop on you." <Narrator> "No, you pitiful blood-traitor /scum/, I am MAD that you tied me up to wooden planks like a marionette and gave everyone in town a little SHOW!" Screaming the last word, she tries to remove his head with a butterknife. <Narrator> Ahh. Breakfast.

Platinum_Storm reaches over and grabs Ania's arm, lifting a cup of tea to his mouth with the other. "Now now, let's save it until after we've all eaten at least?"

Aimless_Key , meanwhile, moves over to snap, "Understand this. This doesn't happen again. To anyone under our protection. If it does, you will answer for it. Am I clear?"

Ibis weighs in over Aimless Key's shoulder like some kind of social vulture. "Gimme a break, you just can't help young love."

<Narrator> He looks at her with an expression of utmost innocence. "Of course! Why, I wouldn't dream of /intentionally/ breaking the terms of our agreement, Miss Key." He gives Ania a very special smile. "It's just too wonderful to have the protection of the Mighty. Solar. Exalted. Isn't it?"

Aimless_Key turns her head to look at Ibis as if she's grown a third head - not that that's totally impossible, but /love/? Is this woman on crack?

<Narrator> Ania just sputters. "I'm older than YOU, you tarred-and-feathered harlot!" Once Snap chimes in, she just gets this queasy look on her face and decides to hold her silence while she plots some way to kill everyone in the entire world, all at once.

Iron_Soul stands over by the window, fully armored as usual, his hands clasped behind his back as he watches the sun rising.

Platinum_Storm releases Ania's arm and raps her one the head. "Manners." He takes another sip of his tea before setting the cup down and retrieving his pipe to light up. "Snap, don't provoke the poor woman. Or she'll get a free hit."

<Aimless_Key> Alright. Obviously, we can't take advantage of Lowtide's hospitality all the way to Great Forks... even if we wanted to.

Ibis chuckles darkly and whisks back around to the table proper, leaning on a chair. Which is also leaning on one leg, askew under her grip. "So. . . we got a few ways to move quick, don't we?"

<Platinum_Storm> Our feet and then... our feet, unless we've stumbled across some ancient method of better transporation that can carry all of us when I wasn't looking.

<Ibis> Eh? We can load up the horse 'n run with two people, I can probably carry another two in the sky with my--heh heh--beefier self... hell, maybe three!

<Aimless_Key> Given a few days, I could whistle us up something. Not the most plesant associates, perhaps, but quite pretty, if tales are to be believed. Only one a night, though. More than that would... well, needless to say it'd carry a very good chance of blowing up in my face. <Aimless_Key> And I mean that in the most literal sense.

Iron_Soul turns sideways from the window. "I don't suppose we could just make a carriage, and have our horse pull it?"

<Narrator> "Very tricky business, I'm to understand," Ania says, amicably enough, before her words twist with the bile of hatred that only an Immaculate faithful can truly manage, "trafficing with /demons/ like a /slaver/."

Ibis puts a hand to her chin, "You're so cu~ute when you're angry, no wonder he likes ya."

<Aimless_Key> You mean like many Dragon-blooded sorceresses the world over?

Platinum_Storm blows out a smoke ring. "Now now, working with demons is a long standing tradition. As long as you make sure they can't kill you. The carriage would be the best, I believe."

<Aimless_Key> I don't see why it couldn't work. Flying'd be chancing it, though, without the proper supports, and I don't think we could build those with normal material.

<Narrator> She actually spits on the floor. "Only the twisted, bloated /politicians/ of the Realm allow their sorcerers such indignities." And that's true, mostly. Lookshy doesn't work with bound demons as a matter of policy, and any other Outcastes trying to teach themselves the technique are more often than not eaten.

Ibis lets go of her chair, which rocks back onto all four legs uneasily. "But that's a good idea! I'll go see if I can rustle up some wood planks 'n nails 'n hammers 'n..." she counts the rest off on her fingers silently, and then barrels out the door with a purpose clearly in mind.

Iron_Soul turns to Ania. "Be quiet. We're having a discussion."

<Narrator> Snap follows after Ibis, grabbing a piece of bacon on the way. "Hey, wait, I'll help! I've got LOTS of leftover materials!" His smile is almost audible. It's disgusting.

<Platinum_Storm> A nice kid. When he isn't playing pranks. Platinum_Storm takes another sip of his tea contently.

<Narrator> For her part, Ania just whips her head around to Iron Soul, opening her mouth--but closes it, immediately, and returns to her food, silently fuming. There's something about that anathema...

Platinum_Storm sets the cup down, getting to his feet. "How long should I wait before telling them there's probably a few carriages in the fortress?"

<Aimless_Key> Tell them now, Plat.

<Platinum_Storm> That's no fun.

<Aimless_Key> Before we rob this poor villiage of all it's supplies.

<Platinum_Storm> Hm, true.

<Narrator> "You have a blood-traitor thief in your retinue. They're already broke, they just don't know it yet."

Platinum_Storm gestures towards Ania. "Come along, you can help me chase down Snap."

Iron_Soul walks toward the door. "It's best to sometimes let enthusiasm burn itself out. I'll go and bring one back."

<Narrator> She grabs the sharpest knife she can find from the table and stands up. "With unmatched plea--" She stops, when Iron Soul starts walking towards the door, and has to fight back a shiver.

Platinum_Storm lets Iron Soul exit before heading on out, giving Ania a mix of a curious and reproving look at her stopping and the knife. "Without bloodshed, my dear." And then he's out the door looking for the two worker bees.

Aimless_Key chuckles... then realizes she doesn't have anything to so. So she sits and thinks for a while.

<Narrator> Gritting her teeth, she stands, turns, fumes, and eventually just settles for stabbing the knife downward at the seat at which Snap was sitting. It takes her two or three enraged thrusts, but she manages to split it in half.

Platinum_Storm pokes his head back in. "You'll be reinbursing the innkeeper for that." <Platinum_Storm> "Doing dishes, if need be."

<Narrator> "I will season your liver with your mother's tears."

<Platinum_Storm> "My mother would probably thank you before selling you to the Guild. Now move it."

Ibis isn't very hard to spot, because she rockets out of the sky from an enormous leap. Slung over one shoulder is quite a bit of timber.

Aimless_Key sighs, "Charming to the last."

Platinum_Storm waves Ibis down, raising his voice. "Iron's gone to retrieve a carriage from the fortress! These folks could probably use that wood though. Where's the kid?"

<Ibis> Snap? Um... not right behind me?

Platinum_Storm lets out a sigh. "Probably putting together his latest prank. Come along, Ania."

<Narrator> Behind a nearby building, his arm over the shoulder of a blushing villager who was snatched away from the very cusp of death, Snap proceeds to explain his heroic deeds with the famed Saviors of Nakiahl. <Narrator> "And then I -threw- the tree. Yeah, at that point, the fight was pretty much over."

Platinum_Storm goes Snap hunting. He may pop over the kid's shoulder at the most inopprotune moment.

Ibis scratches her head and shifts the load of lumber. "He'll be 'round. I'm gonna go give back all this wood then! And get 'em a little extra, some of these guys don't look like they'd have an easy time cuttin' down a tree very fast." Ibis leaves Platinum Storm to his deed and makes good on her promises. Ever seen someone go lumberjacking with a dire lance? Made of moonsilver? It doesn't take very long.

<Narrator> So, Ibis aided in the lumber gathering for the village, Platinum Storm walked up on Tamira and her newest friend as he explained his diplomacy lessons for the uncouth martial artist with not a lick of common sense, and Aimless Key spent a while thinking. <Narrator> Altogether, the town was a better place when Iron Soul returned with a finely crafted chariot driven by a ghostly commander, manifesting himself temporarily as an ashen-skinned man with the stench of death surrounding him.

Platinum_Storm offers Tamira a dazzling smile and some honeyed words of greeting and apology but Snap's dear wounded wife was looking for him and he really must be going. And then the poor child is tugged back possibly in reach of Ania. Platinum_Storm gives Iron Soul and the soldier a nod, not watching whatever tortures the two Terrestrials are visiting upon each other until it gets violent. "Looks good. Let's load up and get going."

Ibis slaps her helmet on and yanks the bottom down so she can see, with the added bonus of looking a little less imposing. "Okay! I'll go start grabbin' and loadin' stuff."

Aimless_Key hops into the chariot, after a few more threatening words to Lowtide.

Platinum_Storm herds Ania and Snap into the carriage, not trusting them to not end up killing each other if left behind.

<Narrator> Just as she leaves, Knack approaches to say his farewells--and strike up a conversation with the Lunar.

Platinum_Storm isn't trusting them to not kill each other coming along, but at least they can watch.

Ibis hefts her spear over one shoulder and turns around, looking towards Knack. She cradles the weapon against her shoulder by tilting her neck, dusting her hands off in the meanwhile.

<Narrator> So they leave, to the cheers of the entire town. "Good luck! And write me if you manage to find my grandfather!" "We love you!" "Thank you again!" "Godspeed!" "Kick lots more ass!" "I still love you, Snap, I don't care what they say!" "Us be wishing you a fast journey! CA CA CA CA CA!" <Narrator> --- <Narrator> Two weeks later, they ride over the crest of a hill, onto an overlook of the mighty Yangze river and almost endless fields of qat and other intoxicants. At their center is the City of Temples, Great Forks, home of the gods on earth and the greatest den of pleasure and inequity this side of Nexus. <Narrator> Snap jumps out of the chariot, and cracks his neck this way and that. "Altogether? That went by quicker than I thought."

Platinum_Storm steps out of the chariot after Snap, stretching his arms out as he looks towards Great Forks. "Well then, this will be all sorts of fun."

Mr`Lowtide would be perched at the top of his Ship, his signature grin wiped from his face, making him seem eons older, some sort of monstrous calculating mood broiling under the human skin. The animal under it all. And that said ship would be brooding on the edges of their peripheral like a smear of algae at low tide... obviously the aquatic Full Moon's not easily shaken.

Iron_Soul strides out and steps forward, surveying the area. "I don't care if we are looking for celestial booze and parties; we're not here for fun."

Ibis vaults her way out of her little confined space, "Never again. Tch! Rather be flyin'." she remarks, stretching as high as she can. "So what're we gonna do? I reckon if we walk in lookin' like an armory we're gonna get in strife."

<Narrator> "And so, here I am," Ania says listlessly, her spirit seemingly sapped from two weeks of close contact with Snap and a carriageful of Anathema. "At the very capital of heresy, in all of Creation."

Platinum_Storm glances at Ania and Snap. "No selling each other into slavery. And there shouldn't be trouble as long as we don't start any trouble, Ibis." He offers a smile towards Ania. "Take in some of the local flavor, my dear. It might do you some good. Mind the drugs though. And you can't come to Great Forks and not have some fun, Iron Soul."

Iron_Soul looks to Storm. "Watch me."

Platinum_Storm lets out a theatric sigh. "Perhaps you should take in some of the local flavor as well."

<Aimless_Key> Focus, Plat.

Iron_Soul turns away and steps forward again. "Let's just get what we came for. There's a war to prepare for, and I don't think the men and women who could die will appreciate our delaying things to take in the 'local flavor.' "

<Narrator> Of course, before they can enter the city limits, they have the minor problem of crossing the greatest river in all Creation. It bars the way to Great Forks, the first and last living city to ever defy the Deathlords and survive.

Platinum_Storm tsks as he begins to walk. "Hopefully they haven't penned that as law yet." When the matter of the river rears it's watery head, Platinum starts to look for someone with a boat who is willing to make a bit of silver.

<Ibis> Hnnh... hey, back to the matter at hand! If y'unhook the carriage, I can probably carry it!

<Aimless_Key> We're here to find Sign of Fortitude, remember... And let's try to avoid being obvious about ourselves, Ibis. Insomuch as we can. No reason to draw attention, now that we're close.

<Ibis> Oh... good point.

Ibis lowers her head, clearly disappointed.

<Mr`Lowtide> The Vile Claw grinds up to the other shore, pulling broadside to show the scarred and barnacled starboard side. Lowtide props his foot up on the edge and leers with a playful grin. "Hmm. You have your swimming caps?"

<Narrator> Straight south, they find a small fishing boat anchored not far from the river bank, and a man with a raft sitting near the water with a fishing rod, contentedly eating a sandwich. <Narrator> There is, perhaps, an alternative. If you can trust Mr. Lowtide not to blow the poor fisherman out of the water for your scorn.

Aimless_Key calls up to Lowtide, "Are you still following us?"

Platinum_Storm raises an eyebrow. "Ah, afternoon Captain." He spares a look towards Key.

Ibis sets her jaw and looks thoughtful, before ducking back inside the carriage.

<Mr`Lowtide> "I hated to see you go, m'dear, but loved to watch you walk away." A lecherous grimacing smile. "And an agreeable afternoon to you, boyo."

Platinum_Storm ponders the entertainment value of handing Ania a weapon and letting her at the Lunar for a moment or two behind a perfectly schooled face. The idea is quickly shelved when he recalls what happened to the last Terrestrial that tangled with him. "So you are, then."

<Narrator> IN the background, Ania shares an extremely rude hand gesture with Snap, who reciprocates twofold. "Gotcha outnumbered." There's a familiar scream of rage, but really nothing to get worked up about.

<Mr`Lowtide> "Following without aim is more of a directed ambling, don't you think?" A raucous cry comes up from behind him, as a round of tentacle-arm wrestling was won and lost. "An eternity of boredom is eased a bit, you know, seeing some glittery folks." He sounds honest enough, and even removes his hat to rub at his scalp.

Platinum_Storm raises his voice for a moment. "You know Snap, I'm pretty sure Key could give Ania your hand to work with." Then he's back towards the captain. "I suppose you're putting in at Great Forks to have a bit of fun? Or on to other lands?"

Ibis exits the carriage again, nothing more than a big green falcon that decides to sit on Snap's shoulder. And just possibly dig in with her talons whenever he gets a little too mean.

<Mr`Lowtide> "Ah! What other lands? I've seen them all, good chap, from the Wylds on. Let's just say once you go to the wider edge of the fractal, you go back to the center, you see?" Something seems to be possessing him; something other than the fae mood he was in earlier. Something kept making his face fall into the corpselike husk it really was.

<Aimless_Key> Ah, Well, I'm afraid we can't arrive in Great Forks /with/ you, exactly! While entering in your grand style is wonderful, we don't want to be quite so flashy on our first visit! Decorum, you know! So I don't think we'll be able to travel with you, Captain!

Platinum_Storm offers an apologetic smile towards the Captain before stepping over to speak with the sandwich eating fisherman.

<Narrator> He gives Platinum Storm a single, short glance. "No."

Mr`Lowtide mutters a soft, good-natured 'nyeh.' and turns back to his noisy crowd, obviously unflustered by the news. It's clear he's been dealing with this sort of thing for a while now... but it's also clear he's considering heading into the city, too, as his crew brings him fancy jackets and jewelry, layered up until he's slightly stooped under the weight of the ragged, stained fabrics, and he really does resemble his totem.

Platinum_Storm offers the man a bright smile smile and slight bow. "All we require is a lift across the river, sir. Hardly any trouble even with the more lively among our crew, and you will of course be paid for your services and the time taken." He's all smiles and good cheer even with the initial refusal.

<Narrator> He pauses for a moment, then eats the rest of his sandwich. Looking back up at Platinum Storm, he says, "You got enough to buy my boat?"

Platinum_Storm chuckles. "Ah yes, price. I believe we can handle the cost of crossing the river quite handily. Considering the lively nature of the child and woman however, will <Res 2 figure here> suffice?"

<Narrator> "Hmmmf." <Narrator> He stands up, reeling in his line. "I don't care if you -are- handsomer than Latchvein on a good day, if you godblooded go and break my boat you're paying for it. Get on." With that, he hobbles into the raft.

Platinum_Storm chuckles. "Of course, of course." With that he gestures for the rest of the group to haul themselves over and board.

Ibis dislodges herself from Snap's shoulder and takes up perch on the edge of the boat's railing.

<Aimless_Key> Alright everybody, let's go! If you break anything, I'll find a way to take the money to pay for it out of your hide!

<Narrator> Snap just grins, and, with a bit of a running start, jumps all the way from the bank to the ship's deck.

Aimless_Key might just be serious, too.

Platinum_Storm gives Snap a very careful look. "You may end up doing dishes with Ania."

<Narrator> Snap shouts back, "Will she be wearing something white?"

<Platinum_Storm> "Of course not. You might actually enjoy yourself then."

Iron_Soul leaves a few final instructions to the horse and. . .apparently some empty space next to the horse. With that, he leaves the carriage off from the side of the path and strides to the boat.

Mr`Lowtide squints through shiny goggles across the river at the horse, and he even licks his lips a bit, like he was sizing up a particularly juciy steak. With a loud thud of his goremaul's handle on the deck, the Ship turns in a wide arc, cutting up the water in front of the group in a fierce wave, before tearing off, circling the city.

Platinum_Storm whispers to Iron Soul. "The horse will... like, eat him or something if he tries anything, right?"

<Narrator> It neighs. Loudly. With -fire-.

Ibis looks irate and impatient.

Iron_Soul stares straight ahead, toward the opposite shore. ". . .or something."

Platinum_Storm chuckles, closing his eyes for a few moments. He soon enough takes a seat, opening them again and watching Ania for a couple of seconds before going back to watching the water.

<Narrator> They set off, in good time, riding the dinky fishing ship towards the bustling dock of Great Forks. There's a virtual navy of merchant and other cargo vessels, as well as the actual navy composing their various escorts, most of them docked but many coming and going.

Platinum_Storm shifts a bit, shaking his head for the barest of moments before focusing on the docks up ahead.

Ibis shifts across the railing as gradually as she can, sticking near her companions. Suspicions be damned.

<Mr`Lowtide> The Vile Claw would be gone from sight within moments, but they would see the unmistakable form of a tophat floating on the waters near the opposite shore, before beginning to rise on top of a swell of churning tide. <Mr`Lowtide> With a low burbling and hiss of phlegmy breath, Lowtide shambles up the shore, like the undead rising again from the depths. In his case, of course, it's more like a fancily-dressed, ugly man fell overboard and walked back out. Which is basically what happened.

<Narrator> Snap begins a casual conversation, while watching Lowtide on the distant shore. "So, you know. I've heard plenty about this place, back in Greyfalls. They don't really allow your kind here, they just arrest you on the spot and ship you off to 'interviews' with the city gods." He pauses a moment, for emphasis. "I could cover for you guys, if you'd like."

Ibis ruffles her wings. Perhaps you could interpret that one as a shrug.

Platinum_Storm lets out a sigh as Lowtide probably draws no small amount of attention before glancing at Snap. "What'd you have in mind?"

<Narrator> He tugs at his collar a bit, as they begin to approach the dock. "Just leave everything to me. Key, Iron, behind me. Platinum, walk in front and make to introduce me--don't worry, I'll take care of it all." He pauses for a moment, nodding solemnly, before remembering something. <Narrator> He looks over his shoulder at Ania. "Oh, she can come after us. Lookshy troops stop here for drugs and sex all the time, after all."

Ibis shoots the group a worried glance, but can say nothing.

Platinum_Storm smirks. "Have a name in mind or shall I use my imagination?"

Iron_Soul crosses his arms. "Hmph. Succeed or fail, this should be interesting to watch."

Aimless_Key murmers something in Old Realm, and nods in acknowledgement.

<Narrator> Snap shakes his head and tsks, patting Platinum Storm on the shoulder. "Oh ye of little faith! Just go and do your part, and I'll do mine." <Narrator> The boat at last pulls in to one of the older and more dilapidated docks, directed to the far side of the heavy cargo ships with their critical shipments of food and intoxicants. There's a few sturdy slaves working nearby, a couple of watchmen and a bored-looking bureaucrat, but very little else in sight but the sprawling expanse of warehouses that lie beyond.

Platinum_Storm disembarks from the boat, face schooled into the expression worn by the heralds of any person worth a damn, right down to that hint of haughtiness for having the /honor/ of serving as such even when it isn't really an honor. He steps forward towards those who are checking such new arrivals, clearing his throat as he clasps his hands behind him. <Platinum_Storm> "Eh-HEM. On this fine afternoon in the glorious lands of the East I have the utmost pleasure in presenting this heir to many wonderous traditions and gifted with no small amount of his own personal skills. Gracing this fine city with his presence, the young Master." And with that he stops, stepping aside and so very the picture of a fawning servant. Some small part of him must be amused.

<Narrator> "QUIET SLAVE!" shouts Snap as he stomps forward from behind Platinum. Kicking the older man's knees out from under him and shoving him down to the ground with his hand gripping the Solar's shoulder, Snap snarls. "I can introduce myself, you worthless overpampered FOP!" <Narrator> His cloak billows as the winds about him howl, clouds build up in the distance and lightning flickers on the horizon! He splays out his arms and shouts for all the world to hear, "I AM WINDSTORM THUNDERSTRIKE THE THIRD, PRINCE OF ALL CREATION!"

Ibis stops paying attention to the unfolding, terrible joke behind her and keeps a keen eye out for some fresh catch of the day to steal away with. The things that matter.

<Narrator> Throwing his arm to the side, he lets his anima burst forth to full power, throwing trash and litter aside and knocking over an empty barrel that had the misfortune of being nearby. He has the grace to kick Platinum Storm away before he can be too damaged as well. "These are my worthless slaves and companions, the retinue that dares leech upon my infinite glory!"

Platinum_Storm swaps from pleased with himself to an expression of outright dismay and fear. "Of course young Master, my apologies young Master." He offers the bureaucrat a pleading look to not argue with the child, moving with the kick and adopting a subservient pose. "Thank you for the honor, young Master."

<Narrator> Storming up to the receiving officiary, who is either too jaded to care for such things, or more likely intoxicated on at least a dozen different barely legal substances, he announces, "I have come to consume your every bottle of wine and impregnante your every woman! Out of my way, bureaucrat!"

Iron_Soul stands behind Snap, arms crossed, staring down at whoever the 'young master' happens to be ranting at at that moment, towering and heavy.

<Narrator> He sighs, and tiredly scribbles down a name and purpose, "Have you brought any First Age artifacts or other powerful magical items with you into the city?"

Platinum_Storm is on his feet and following after the young master, mumbling apologies and begging forgiveness.

<Narrator> "No, you mortal dullard!" He shouts, idly levelling his hand at a nearby crate and blowing it into smithereens with an unseen gust of wind that slices the wood to splinters. "How foolhardy do you think I am, to bring my countless treasures to this den of base thieves?!" <Narrator> "Such scum is beneath my notice! Now, we will be on our way!"

Aimless_Key just closes her eyes in a pained wince, as though the young master has done this far too many times to count - and, perhaps, from behind, she feels free to take notice of this.

<Narrator> WIth that, he storms towards the city walls, beyond the dock warehouses.

Ibis lands on Snap's shoulder and gives a noble cry, after the crate splinters. The sheer patriotism might make lesser men quake in their shoes.

Aimless_Key , of course, follows dutifully.

Platinum_Storm follows as well, leaving only apologies towards the men in the young Master's wake. A regular occurance indeed.

<Narrator> A few minutes afterwards, Ania walks up to the same dignitary and simply says, "Sex, drugs, rock'n'roll," as she passes, not even bothering to stop. It seems to be enough for the stoned bureaucrat, who barely remembers what he's here for.

<Mr`Lowtide> A filthy, sheet-white hand slams down on the top of the dock, and Lowtide lurches up halfway, an apple- no doubt stolen- in the other hand. <Mr`Lowtide> He'd scramble up after them, hanging far enough back so that he may or may not be with them- and tries to look as unnoticable as he can, his major Tells hidden under layers of clothing and thick tinted goggles. The hammer seems to be back on the ship... wherever that was. Instead he uses a knobbled cane, swinging it in a jaunty rhythm.

<Narrator> The officiary asks him in near-monotone, as he approaches, "Name and business?" <Narrator> The Circle is confronted with a sadly familiar face, as it approaches the city walls. Someone has put up notices with the sketched form of the good Mr. Latchvein, who is apparently offering 'self-defense and military education'. "Fitness for today, security for tomorrow!" promises the byline, and there are quite a few of these easily spotted before they reach the city gate itself.

Aimless_Key shakes her head at the signs, but makes no comment.

Platinum_Storm raises an eyebrow slightly, trailing back a bit to murmur at Ania. "Your guide before, if I recall?"

<Narrator> "Surprising as it is that your memory can reach so very far, yes, you are correct."

<Mr`Lowtide> "Ah, mumble mumble Lowtide, unfortunate name, I know, business is I'm curious in the sea trade this side of anywhere. I'm Western, if you couldn't tell by my eccentric nature." He'd quirk a bushy eyebrow and smile broadly.

Platinum_Storm can't help but smile a bit. "Good to know I'm just full of surprises, my dear. Though I do wish you'd lighten up a bit."

<Narrator> (Lowtide) "Very good. Move along." The man exudes banality like a stench that can't be ignored. <Narrator> "I very sincerely hope you die a violent death, wretch."

<Aimless_Key> Charming to the last. Keep it /down/, you two.

Mr`Lowtide luckily has no qualms about stench, metaphorical or otherwise. He'd skip along on rigid, creaking knees, whistling through chapped lips, every so often dabbing at his mouth with a rag he keeps stuffed in his chest pocket. It's clear he's enormously pleased with himself.

Platinum_Storm smiles, raising his voice. "My apologies, my apologies." Though he does murmur again. "Will you be right there by my side in death as well? It'd make it so much more meaningful." Then he's moved forward a bit again.

<Narrator> "If that's what it takes to seal your ruined soul in the utmost depths of the underworld.

<Aimless_Key> Trust me when I say you really, really don't want to - speak to the master right now, he's more than a little, er, overtired - do that.

Iron_Soul places a hand on Ania's shoulder and tightens his grip, once, before letting go. He doesn't say a word, but the meaning is clear, as he stares her in the eyes.

<Narrator> She stares right back for a few seconds, but eventually flinches and walks quietly behind her jailers. <Narrator> The gate guards are asleep, and the bureaucrats stationed there are easily frightened by the most terrible and might -LORD- Prince Windstorm Thunderstrike III, Future Emperor of the Realm. <Narrator> The Circle enters unaccosted into the City of Temples, although there is a half-drunk man who doesn't look like he's from the Thresshhold giving them very nasty looks. He has a very tight grip on the goremaul he is, thankfully, not using.

Ibis does her best to look very royal and spoiled. The temptation to bite Snap's ear is a strong one.

<Narrator> Once inside the gates, Snap turns towards the rest of the group and points towards Platinum Storm. "Slave, take my familiar and have her fed!" A man goes out of his way to step around them, even in the crowded, bustling street that runs directly into the center of town.

Platinum_Storm approaches with much bowing and scraping, holding out his arm. "Of course, young Master."

<Narrator> Snap waits a moment for the bird to switch spots.

Ibis resists the urge to headbutt her master, and leaps onto Platinum Storm's arm. Very clever bird, it doesn't want to gash him. Nice birdie.

<Narrator> Snap -immediately- bolts, the winds levying him and giving him support as he half runs, half jumps to the nearest rooftop, from which he springs to the next, and then the next.

Platinum_Storm raises an eyebrow, dropping the servant facade as he deadpans. "Perhaps a bit of Snap for dinner."

<Narrator> Ania chimes in again, in a similar tone. "Oh dear, it seems your master has abandoned you. Do you require purchase?"

Ibis snaps at Ania from her perch and gives a kind of hissing, cawing noise. Frustration is evident, here.

Aimless_Key chuckles, "Let's go find somewhere to base out of we can afford. I'm sure the young master can find us again, what with his outstanding prowess."

<Platinum_Storm> "That would depend on the capacity you have in mind, young Mistress."

<Narrator> "It's not difficult labor, by any means. All I require is you dig a grave and take a nap."

<Platinum_Storm> "Alas, I am afraid I can only offer the finer pleasures in life. Manual labor is so unsightly for such a well trained servant."

Mr`Lowtide darts his unnaturally green-gray tongue over his thin lips, turns on his heel, and then scuttles off twisting his mustachioes towards the dimmer, darker, filthier parts of town. 'Nyeh'ing, of course.

<Narrator> She sniffs in disdain. "Very well. I suppose we shall have to let you loose, not unlike a fish too small for anything but throwing back into the river."

<Platinum_Storm> "You wound me, fair Mistress. I may have to write a poem to capture the true essence of my sorrow while singing praises to your beauty. Or perhaps sing a song. Or play this /lovely/ tune I picked up from a well made door."

Aimless_Key chuckles, "Come /on/ you two. Let's at least get inside before you decide whether to kiss or kill eachother."

<Narrator> "A matter requiring little to no deliberation, I assure you." WIth that, Ania leads the way towards a place to stay the night. After all, it's not like she hasn't been here before.

Platinum_Storm follows along, all smiles and good cheer despite the impiled death threats. "Ah! Shall I serenade you to a restful slumber then? I'm sure you'll want to be well rested with pleasant dreams either way." He glances at Ibis, dropping his tone to a whisper. "I'll find you a spot to change back, don't worry. There can only be so many spirits."

Ibis nods. By the gods, it looks absurd. </nowiki>