Difference between revisions of "Daneel Rush/Session01B"

Latest revision as of 12:22, 3 October 2010

Boundary of Light and Darkness
Session 01-B: Land of Hopelessness
Characters: Shoat, Walker

Note: this is assumed to take place three weeks before Session 01-A.

It was known as the Noss Fens. A pit of despair and damnation in the far East.

It was a shadowland: a place where the necrotic Essence of the Underworld seeped into Creation and the boundaries between both became tenuous and diffuse. The tireless walking dead roamed the land and those unfortunate ones cursed to live there were condemned to a life of misery and perpetual terror.

The Noss Fens. A swamp of horror, where the stench of decomposing flesh saturated one's nostrils and knee-deep bogs of murky water concealed all sorts of horrible mutated creatures better left undescribed.

It was extremely fortunate, then, that today's protagonist was not in the Noss Fens. He was close enough to have his nostrils stuffed with the stench of dead, though, which apparently gave him the right to pointlessly complain to absolutely nobody.

"'Welcome to the Convention on Deathlords', they said. 'Let's give you an easy job, for starters', they said. 'Be a good boy and map the East's shadowlands for us', they said. Effin' great."

It was not much of a consolation, but at least the Noss Fens were close to one of the gates to the Heavenly City of Yu-Shan, which made reaching the shadowland a fairly simple ordeal. He had already traced half of the region's perimeter. If somebody else had done something like this before, he could compare and see whether the shadowland had grown since the last check, but noooooo~

"Why do I get the feeling I'm wasting my time here?"

Walker in Boundless Shadows, Chosen of the Maiden of Endings, did NOT like to waste his time. There were missions to fulfill, destinies to protect, lives to change, the whole of Creation to watch over!

But no. He was to spend Saturn-knows-how-many months walking around shadowlands.

What did he do to deserve such a waste of Sidereal manpower?

He had experiences with shadowlands and their denizens, yes. He had completed a few missions in Skullstone; he had even met the Silver Prince himself. Quite the amiable fellow when on the same side.

But Walker was an optimistic person, so he was quick to look at the bright side: at least the mission did not involving going into the Noss Fens. The place exuded an aura of danger that was almost physical; an oppressive force that promised eternal damnation if he as much as took a step inside that cursed territory.

This was most definitely no ordinary shadowland.

With swiftness born of paranoia, the Shoat of the Mire opened her eyes.

She was not sleeping. Sleep is a luxury not allowed within the Mound of Forsaken Seeds. She had closed her eyes for a few hours to rest her addled mind.

But she opened them again because she felt she was not alone.

Weary eyes, strange on a child her age, gazed around the featureless empty room she had chosen as her resting place that evening. It was indeed empty. Then, what was that feeling...?

It was not fear; fear she only experienced around the one who turned her into what she was.

It was not wariness; she felt no imminent threat to her self.

It was not the Whispers of the Neverborn; she had done her absolute best to block their damning presence from her mind.

It was simply the unmistakable nudge in the back of her head which whispered to her "you are not alone."

Calming her uneasy heart and relaxing her breathing, she willed her Essence to attune to the pulse of the living world around her. It was particularly easy within the Mound, for actual living beings were so rare they were unmistakable.

A curtain of hair, lustrous like a waterfall of liquid obsidian, slid down the length of her back, caressing her small rear as she silently slid off the makeshift bed. Grabbing her soulsteel knife as a side thought, Shoat cautiously stepped out of the room.

There it was. Something--no, someone, who clearly did not belong to that cursed place.

She was so bright.

The shining figure of silver and white disappeared behind a corner so quickly and fluidly Shoat doubted for a moment she had actually seen something.

Was it a ghost? Some sort of spirit?

If Shoat of the Mire was defined by any one trait, it would be her curiosity. So, she followed after the mysterious figure.

Looking around the corner, Shoat watched the figure disappear behind another one. So fast!

It was a small, feminine shape. Not as small as Shoat, mind you, but still rather child-like. Wearing nothing but a translucent white dress--very much like hers, only cleaner--which revealed a small and lithe figure, the glowing apparition strode the halls of the Mound of Forsaken Seeds with confidence and complete lack of concern.

Which brought the question: where was everyone else? The undead servitors, the roaming spectres, the cursed children? Where was the Dowager? At this rate, they would reach...

Starlight.

Shoat gazed up, at the starry sky of the Underworld. When was the last time she had seen those stars? Never after the Procession of the Swine claimed her family's life. Not even after her Exaltation; day after day of training followed, until the Dowager deemed her ready to go on a mission.

Yes, the last time she had seen those stars, it had been as a human being.

She gasped when the silver figure sneaked in between the gap between two trees and disappeared within the dense flora of the putrid swamp. She gasped again when she realized she was still alone.

She could leave.

She could walk away from the Mound--no, she could RUN. Run, and never look back. Away from that maddening place, away from the monster who gave her eternal beauty and life.

Her knees began to tremble as the ghost of weakness and hesitation began to whisper in her ears.

Where could she go? What could she do?

She was a monster too, after all.

Was there someplace in that vast world she knew so little about? A place for the horrible thing she had become?

But...but...!

Shoat of the Mire knew she was a coward.

But, for the sake of that most precious life of hers, she gripped her precious knife, forged with the souls of her own parents, and stepped forward.

She ran and ran, and never looked back.

"Sometimes I really, really hate myself."

Walker in Boundless Shadows made a face as his leg sunk in the putrid bog for the nth time.

Yes, he had stepped into the Noss Fens. He had gathered his courage and stepped in, following after an eerie figure in white and silver. His heart was beating so fast it hurt, and every cell in his body screamed at him to turn around and leave that horrible and dangerous place, but he persevered.

Because, that figure, that person...he knew he had seen her before. The day he Exalted.

Could it really be...?

So far, no trouble. Other than the muddy terrain which threatened to steal his boots on every step.

"Must...find...dry place!"

He was surprised he had yet to see the first undead. Such a disgusting place he would have expected it to be plagued with zombies or whatever. Then again, he was in a shadowland. Even the flora could be a threat if he was not careful.

He glanced up, at the stars of an alien sky. He really should have waited until daytime before trying this. At least the stars offered enough light for him to find his way. But he had lost track of the silver being rather quickly. That sucked.

"There!"

Eventually, Walker found solid group in the midst of the bog. It was a small island with a bridge of unstable muddy ground connecting it to the beginning of a mangrove (were they really...but it's dry over there...?) forest which appeared to reach deep into the shadowland.

He was already thinking of just dismissing the silver figure and turning back when his ears caught sound.

Someone was approaching, and fast.

"...huh, I didn't need Awareness Charms, after all."

Don't break the Fourth Wall!

Shoat of the Mire ran.

The courage which drove to step forward was already gone. It was terror that fueled her steps now, for she could feel it. Even if that terror did not show in her fierce gaze.

The lethargy, the magic, whatever it was that allowed her to escape from the Mound so easily was gone, and the cold dread of the Noss Fens' denizens once again surrounded her. It was a matter of time before her absence was noticed, and then...then...

What if the Dowager unleashed the Procession after her?

Fear of the Deathlord drove the small deathknight to run even faster. Her small body dashed past the dry, misshapen trees around her with fluid ease. She had been trained to be a blur of motion: swift, precise, untouchable, lethal.

She had not disappointed her liege in that regard.

The trees would come to an end. If she remembered correctly, a muddy bog followed after that...

The last of the twisted trees was left behind, and the little Shoat came to a sudden halt.

"My..."

Walker's lone world at the sight of the small person before him could not even begin to describe the awkwardness of the situation.

This girl was beautiful.

The fact that, despite her small frame and her apparent young age, the only word Walker could come up with to describe her was "beautiful" spoke leagues of the sheer magnitude of that girl's comeliness.

It was somehow frightening. Walker did not even want to imagine how she would look after a proper cleanup.

Her hair was like the sky above them, made of the darkest black yet glimmering with the light of countless invisible pale stars; so lustrous it could not belong to a human. Skin so white it begged for the blessing of sunlight gave only added to her doll-like appearance. She was just so small...

Her eyes, gray like the storm cloud he had seen so many times in the Western islands, currently stared up at him with no little alarm. He guessed she was as surprised to see him as he was to meet her.

Yet, with remarkable swiftness, she corrected her pitiful posture and assumed a crude defensive stance, interposing her knife in front of her.

That single action bothered Walker more than anything else. He sighed.

"Such a cruel world we live in...for a child to wield a weapon like that." He paused. That knife...

"...is that soulsteel?"

It was, of course. He just blurted out the question needlessly.

The girl's mind was in overdrive. Who was this person? Her Essence perception showed her this man had power, but it was clearly not like hers. Was he one of the other Exalted her liege taught her about? Only the stupidest human would wander alone into the Noss Fens, after all.

The young man was rather plain looking, even more so to one such a Shoat, who has so little interest in physical appearances. His body was slim, or at least that's what his dark clothes apparently showed, but no weak person would willing step into the Fens.

Shoat frantically looked around for the smallest trace of an ambush or an undead assault, and Walker easily noticed her nervousness. Then again, he did not know what she knew. Thus, he asked a stupid question.

"Is there something wrong?" he inquired, taking a step closer. That was his mistake.

Shoat of the Mire was a fleeing beast dominated by fear of a power far beyond hers. The slightest movement was a potential threat, and the girl's logic obeyed a single principle: "erase manageable threats and keep running."

With a battle cry that was more a whimper, Shoat closed the short distance between them, her feet leaving deep marks on the muddy ground as she leapt high to strike at Walker's jugular.

The Blade of the Battle Maiden converted Walker's bare hands--no, his whole body--in the weapon of Fate itself, and the instrument of the end of all things. His right foot imperceptibly slid back, pulling at the thread of the ground's fate to urge it to act as a shock absorber against Shoat's jump, partially neutralizing her impulse and making her jump not reach as high as it could have. The back of his right wrist gently pushed Shoat's attacking hand upwards and away from its lethal trajectory. Their eyes met, and in their closeness, Walker returned her disbelief and desperation with only gentleness.

"You're doing it wrong," he spoke softly, and maybe even a little mischievously.

For an instant, desperation filled the poor girl's mind. This man could fight her!

But, she stubbornly pushed her feelings to back of her mind and focused on what she believed she had to do.

Her right foot touched ground first, and her left became the pivot to drive her instant turn and the horizontal knife slash which followed. Blood oozed out of the pores on her forehead as the vile mark of the Dusk Caste took shape. Her free hand then flickered and became as translucent as her dirty and plain dress.

Walker lowered his hands, appearing almost defenseless, but his body was ready to slide away from the incoming attacks; protected as he was by Essence and Fate, the young Sidereal could find a measure of enjoyment in grazing his way out of danger...if he could. His feet never left the soft ground as he moved, pushing it in just the right way so that it would sink and disrupt Shoat's stance just enough to turn sure hits into lucky grazes. Indeed, her knife did not even come close to harm his face, and her Shrouded Claw Attack lacked reach, becoming nothing but a pat on Walker's chest.

Shoat's terror and frustration almost brought tears to her eyes. It didn't work...not even her Charm worked! It was useless! Why did she even bother running away, if she was so useless!?

Fearfully, she looked up at who she assumed was her would-be executioner.

She had not noticed earlier because of the poor light and the distance, and in her earlier attack she had not really being paying attention...

Such amazing violet eyes...why did they look so sad...?

"Who..." Walker whispered in a pained voice, and Shoat's body stiffened when his finger fell on her Caste Mark.

"...who did this to you...?"

She had no answer. Even if she had anything to say, her voice would have been swallowed by the deep horn which resounded throughout the entire Noss Fens.

The two looked at the dark, deep, dead forest beyond the bog. One was just confused, the other was terrified.

That was when the zombies began to pour out of the darkness, as if roused by the call to arms. From every possible direction, blocking the obvious avenues of escape, Walker and Shoat could quickly count fifteen of them, and they knew more were coming. And Shoat knew the owner of that horn was also on her way.

"I...I have to run!" She finally spoke.

Walker shivered a bit when he heard those words. Even her voice was gorgeous, for Venus's sake! Such a low, sibilant tone, like a cobra goddess! No child should have a voice like that, it was too disturbing!

Their eyes met.

"She...she's coming! I..."

"Who's coming...?"

Past the obvious fear in the girl's voice, Walker's eyes fell on the Caste Mark. It was not his first experience with the Abyssal Exalted, and his intuition filled the gap.

"Where there is a deathknight...there must be a Deathlord."

The light in the girl's gray eyes confirmed the truth he dreaded to find. Walker just had to make a face at that.

"Well, this is officially bad. I take it this is where I run like hell."

The zombies were closing a circle around the two Exalted.

"But first I have to open a path. I take these are not your friends?"

Shoat ignored the mirth in the words and shook her head most effusively. "I-I want to get away!"

Walker nodded. "Good enough for me. Shall we help each other, then?"

Help. To render assistance to someone else. To cooperate, to assist, to relieve.

To be useful to someone.

It was a concept the young Shoat of the Mire was not familiar with, even if she knew the meaning of the word.

Yet, somehow, somehow...that word...

"...help...me..."

The young Sidereal smiled. Those were indeed magical words for him.

"Right away, little one."

The two looked in one single direction: away from the Noss Fess. Two zombies blocked the path. After breaking through, the others would never be able to catch up with them.

Drawing his slashing sword from the scabbard concealed by his dark cape, Walker buried his feet deep into the muddy soil before spearing the blade through the zombie to the right. Switching weapon hands and using his then free right hand to grab the blunt blade, he pushed it out through the undead's right side to immediately smash the second zombie's left side and push him away, swiftly squeezing between the two to get out of the ring of zombies.

Not willing to be left behind, Shoat swiftly threw her knife at the zombie Walker had first attacked, piercing through its face like a knife through old butter. As the destroyed creature fell, Shoat jumped on its face, smashing its head and using it as a solid support to direct her high kick over Walker's crouched body and to the second zombie's chest. The knife, which had been sent flying straight upwards when the first zombie's smashed head hit the ground, fell neatly on Shoat's open hand.

The fourteen remaining zombies then fell upon the two Exalts. Their stumbling and hulking motions, lack of intelligence and overall space limitations meant only three could attack Shoat and Walker at the same time. To Walker, it was easy to use his sword to push and slide the incoming threats on the soft ground and make them collide into each other rather than on him. Shoat easily made the zombies' fists meet the flat of her knife.

The two sudden allies exchanged determined glances...and then ran like hell.

They ran for a long time, not stopping even when they left the Noss Fens behind. Not even when lack of sleep and the physical exertion began to take their toll. Not even when Shoat felt the retribution of the Neverborn coalescing within her for smiting the dead on behalf of the living. They only stopped with the first lights of the new day, and only when they were absolutely certain they were not being followed.

Leaning against a (thankfully normal) tree, Walker finally allowed himself to relax and sit down. Shoat panted in front of him, hands on her knees. She was sure she had never run this much in her life.

"Heh...haha...we're out," Walker was stating the obvious a bit too often this session.

They were out indeed.

Shoat took her very first look to the world beyond the Noss Fess.

It was...green.

"Welcome to Creation."

Shoat glanced at the young man, who responded to her confusion with a smile and a pat on the grass.

"Sit down. You need to relax and restore your Essence."

Like that, the weight of what she had just done fell on her tiny shoulders. She had escaped. She had betrayed the Dowager and escaped into a world completely alien to her.

She was scared. It was a feeling she was used to. But openly displaying that fear was an unacceptable weakness; such was the truth she had deeply carved into her psyche.

But, she felt so tired...

"I can't," she muttered as she fell on her knees.

"Hmm?"

Shoat finally sat, looking as depressed and tired as she was.

"I can't...recover Essence. Not in Creation."

Walker frowned. "I...see. That's unfortunate."

The Sidereal rested his head on the trunk and looked up at the morning sky. Technically, he was still supposed to map the Noss Fens, which meant he had just abandoned his mission. He hoped "there's a fucking Deathlord in the Noss Fens" was a decent excuse.

He had to report this, as soon as possible. It was a matter of the utmost importance. Maybe it was not such a bad thing he was assigned to the Commission on Deathlords, after all. But, after all, there was...

Walker examined the girl, whose eyes explored the world around them with curiosity and nervousness.

A deathknight.

They knew deathknights acted under the orders of Deathlords. But, how were deathknights made? If they Exalted like Solars, Lunars and Sidereals, then why did they only appear so recently? How did they gain those vile and dangerous powers?

Then there was this girl. He could tell from their interactions that she was utterly terrified of her liege, and she had just escaped from the one she is supposed to serve. That obviously meant deathknights' loyalty is not absolute, or magically empowered. It was a matter of choice...or lack thereof, admittedly.

This girl...he could learn a lot from this girl. Besides, he could not just leave her alone, could he? Just look at her, she's completely lost, even if she won't show it.

It was his weakness, after all. His sense of righteousness, not little girls.

"What's your name?" he finally asked. The girl did not see surprised by the question, but her tired, sad expression did not change. It was a bitterly lovely face Walker would have to get used to.

"I...don't have a name anymore." She shook her head, as if to dismiss all thoughts of the identity she relinquished to the Neverborn. "I am the Shoat of the Mire."

"Hmm...then you're like me." Noticing the girl's lack of understanding, the young man explained himself. "I used to have a name...not anymore. My Sifu gave me the title 'Walker in Boundless Shadows'. Just 'Walker' is good. Pleased to meet you, Shoat. Please don't try to stab my face again."

Shoat looked down in shame, for her social skills were too lacking to find the humor in those words. And also...it was the first time somebody called her title...like that.

Every time the Dowager called her, she feared for her life. The Dowager's servants--those which could actually speak, that is--addressed her as 'lady'. After she was Exalted, none of the other children would speak to her anymore.

This man, somehow made her title not feel like a cold weight on her shoulders.

"Umm...pleased to meet you," she repeated, assuming it was the right thing to say. "Umm...are we...?"

"Yes?"

"Are we...going to fight now...?"

Walker frowned. "Fight? Why would we do that?"

Shoat blinked. "Well, I...I am..."

"A deathknight. Abyssal Exalted. Enemy of life and threat to everything in Creation. Yes, I know that."

Shoat jumped to her feet, quickly readying her weapon. Her eyes were a pathetic amalgam of nervousness and conviction.

"What I see right in front of me is a pretty little girl scared out of her wits after betraying and abandoning her Deathlord," Walker calmly continued, not bothering standing up or reacting in any way to the girl drawing weapons. "I see no threat to Creation here."

Shoat's right hand trembled, but she did not put her weapon down.

"Show me you are a threat to Creation, and I will most definitely try to destroy you with everything I've got. But not before. So let's just try to get along, okay?"

He sighed. The very ideal of fighting this girl seriously sickened him.

"I don't like to fight unnecessary fights. And I utterly despise killing. Do we really have to get to that point?"

The girl twitched when Walker reached for his traveling bag, gripping her weapon so tightly her knuckles went whit...er. She warily took a step back when the young Sidereal revealed...a blanket.

"Wha...what is that...?"

Walker blinked and raised an eyebrow. "You don't know what a blanket is?"

"I-I do, but...eh?"

Walker stood up and walked deeper into the sea of trees behind him. While people almost never visited such a remote location, it would not be wise to rest where everybody and their mothers could see him.

"I was up and running the whole night, so I would like to rest now. In fact, I would recommend you do the same." He smiled again. "I will trust you not to kill me in my sleep." His face went flat. "Seriously, don't. Please."

He was sleeping.

He was really sleeping.

What the hell?

Could a person really be so careless?

She could kill him! So easily! She knew she could do it!

How could he be so baselessly confident?

Shoat of the Mire is an extremely thoughtful little girl. As in, she thinks a lot.

So, she killed him. What next? What would she do? Where would she go? She did not even know where she was. He probably carried a map (he looked smart enough to know his way around), but she was not sure she would be able to find her way in Creation, even with one. It was one thing to learn about Creation from books and the words of others; being in the very place without an obvious direction or purpose was a wholly different thing.

This man...said he would not attack her if she did not give him a reason to. What about the next one? She knew humans were not so kind.

And there was also the matter of her Essence. She had so far not spent that much, but it would eventually dwindle. Then, she would have to...

She glanced at the sleeping young man, and wondered what he would think of her means to recover Essence in Creation. Would he attack her then? Most likely.

But, until then...maybe she could...

This man...could teach her things. About Creation. Maybe, once she learned enough, she could try to find her own way. Maybe by that time she would have a better idea what to do.

It was not the first time Shoat was struck by the magnutude of her solitude and her hopelessness.

Maybe sleeping was not such a bad idea, after all. She trusted her Essence-heightened senses to warn her of imminent threat.

Hunger pulled the Walker in Boundless Shadows back to the realm of the conscious.

The first thing he saw was the most flawless and loveliest face he had ever laid eyes upon.

"So close!" he hissed as he hurriedly inched away. Shaking his head to dispel the blood that rushed to his cheeks for a second there, he glanced at the sleeping girl, and found himself smiling in satisfaction.

So, she had not killed him, after all. She was a smart girl.

His stomach urged him to stop admiring the little girl and focus on the matter at hand.

"Yes, food sounds like a good idea."

Inevitably, his eyes fell on the sleeping girl one more time.

"...what do deathknights eat, anyway?"

Walker noticed the hesitant glances Shoat sent in his direction as they ate. But she was not glancing at him, was she?

"You want to see this? Come here."

Hesitatingly, but hopelessly drawn in by her curiosity, Shoat shifted closer to the man in dark clothes. The sun was high up in the sky, but the canopy of green over their heads protected her from its unbearable light.

She looked at the large map of Creation Walker had unfolded in front of him. It was probably as wide as he was tall.

It was not the first time Shoat had seen a map of Creation, but she could not cease to be amazed by how unfathomably large it was. Her eyes drifted to the endless ocean of the West.

An endless body of water reaching as far as her eyes could see and even beyond...she could not even begin to imagine such a thing. It sounded scary.

"You know where we are right now?" Walker inquired, for which he got a flat stare in response. 'Do you think me an idiot?', her eyes showed.

Shoat haughtily point at the Noss Fens on the far right edge of the map.

"Oh, good girl, good girl."

Shoat flatly stared at Walker, keeping her annoyance from showing.

"See, we ran southwest when we escaped from the Fens. Given how much we ran, I'd estimate we're around here. Now the questions is where to go..."

Ignoring the girl's unblinking attention on him, Walker meditated on his next course of action. He had to go to Yu-Shan, but she could not just leave the girl alone (and there was no way in hell he was taking her to the Heavenly City).

But getting to Heaven was the first issue. He really needed to learn Sorcery soon, didn't he?

The closest gate was, of course, just across the Noss Fens. Needless to say, he was most definitely not stepping any closer to that shadowland unless absolutely necessary. That meant his next choices were...awfully far.

"Mercury guide me..." he muttered bitterly, ignoring Shoat's curiosity at the odd expression.

He could go west-northwest, past the Nasaru Redoubt, Greyfalls and Mount Metagalapa. That would take an entire season by foot. He could also go southwest, past the Meander and towards the Maruto River between Nechara and Farhold. The distance was about the same, but it would likely take longer as he would be traveling through deep forest. Also, it was a little too close to the Wyld and the Raksha to his liking, but in a way that was a safer choice than walking through civilized lands in the company of a deathknight. Either way, he was not getting to Yu-Shan any time soon.

"Southwest it is, then. Would that be alright for you?"

Walker promptly explained his intention to walk along the forest's border until he reached the Meander, one of the East's major rivers.

"Can I...really go with you?"

Walker's jaw trembled. He would really have to get used to that soft velvet voice.

"It's your choice, of course. These lands are dangerous, and traveling alone can always get boring, so it would be nice to have a partner, especially a strong little one like you."

"I...I was losing to you..."

"Ah, that was just luck," Walker dismissed the girl's insecurity. "You're a deathknight, you have all sorts of terrible dark powers, don't you? Like that ghostly hand trick you pulled off back there."

"Bu-But, you have Essence, too..."

Walker blinked and puckered his lips; a strange way to display surprise. "You can tell? Some sort of Abyssal power?"

That was worrisome: he was supposed to conceal his powers, after all.

Shoat nodded. "It's a meditation exercise...of my martial arts style."

Walker's eyes widened, and his lips curved into a wide smile. "So you're a martial artist, after all! Heh, that's another thing we have in common."

Folding back his map, Walker quickly proceeded to put out the cooking fire.

"Anyway, we should get moving. We don't want to be close to the Fens when night falls again."

"Ah, um." Shoat nodded in agreement. She had no possessions other than her clothes, the tiny cloth bag tied around her neck and her soulsteel knife.

She went awfully stiff when a scroll of parchment appeared out of nowhere, floating in midair between the two.

"Wha...wha..."

"Oh..." Walker mutely uttered as he grabbed the floating object. Of course, Shoat did not register in the Loom of Fate, so the Bureau assumed he was currently alone.

"No need to worry, it's just about work."

"Wo-work...?"

"Well, you see..." he lamely explained as he opened the scroll and read its contents. "I'm kind of a freelancer, doing a little bit of this, a little bit of that, you know?"

Shoat shook her head. No, she did not know in the slightest. Not that Walker intended to give any more details.

"How convenient," Walker mused as he finished reading the scroll, which disintegrated into a violet sparkling dust to Shoat's amazement. "My next job is just on our way."

"Huh?"

"Oh, you'll find out when we get there. Let's go!"

With enthusiasm Shoat found no explanation for (except maybe a full stomach), Walker began the slow march away from the Noss Fens and towards the so-called Hundred Kingdoms. Noting the girl's apathetic silence, Walker made a face.

"You're a child, you should be more enthusiastic. And don't walk behind me, how are we supposed to talk like that?"

"Ah...um."

The Sidereal sighed. He just had to get the wallflower Abyssal.

The following two-and-a-half weeks were rather relaxing for the odd duo. No threats other than the odd forest beast stood on their path, as Walker had been careful enough to stay away from human settlements. He guessed Shoat was not ready for society just yet.

They quickly learned that the sun of Creation was not kind to the Abyssal Exalted. Until they acquired more suitable garments, Shoat was covering herself with Walker's black cape. Needless to say, Walker was not amused when Shoat said that "anything from a burial ground would do".

As for Shoat, she believed she had spoken more words in that period than the whole time she spent in the Mound of Forsaken Seeds. They sometimes spent long periods of comfortable silence during their traveling, but when Walker started a conversation, it would extend for hours. He did most of the talking, of course, but he was also good at dispelling her reluctance to speak, especially because, as Shoat had quietly hoped, Walker knew many, many interesting things.

Walker quickly realized Shoat was fascinated by the ocean, or at least, the idea of the ocean she had in her mind. Fortunately, he had spent the good part of a year working with the Convention of Water, so he was well acquainted with the West. Shoat listened with fascination to his descriptions of Skullstone Archipielago, Wavecrest and Coral, and Walker introduced her to Storm Mothers and to the Tya. He was a bit surprised even Shoat knew of the Silver Prince, even if she didn't know where he lived or what he did there.

In exchange, Shoat once spoke to him about the Mound of Forsaken Seeds and the Deathlord who resided there. She described the Mound's Lower Halls, where children with sunken eyes and hollow hearts play with toys made of the souls of their parents. She spoke of her Exaltation: of how she had been selected amongst all the children there, of the horrendous cage she had been locked in for days, where she was assaulted by the voices of dead Primordials hammering at her sanity until she renounced to her name and surrendered her soul to them.

And, of course, she spoke of the one who turned her into what she was: the Dowager of the Irreverent Vulgate in Unrent Veils. She spoke of her fearsome mien, of her eyes without emotion or capacity for empathy, of the strange...thing she called the 'Well of Udr', and the abject terror it instilled within her to the point she had never been able to even get close to the thing.

She spoke of those matters only once, early in their travels together. Further attempts from Walker to get more details were met with reluctant silence, for two reasons. First, it was obvious to Shoat that her descriptions had disturbed and disgusted him, and she did not want him to associated her with that horrible place any further. And second, she felt the retribution of the Neverborn (or was it the Dowager's?) gripping her soul for having said a little too much.

What Shoat had shared with him would be enough to get the Fellowship's attention. Much to her relief, Walker stopped asking him about the existence she had left behind just before the end of their first week together.

So, they talked about distant lands, about strange places and creatures...and about fighting.

They sparred every day, and Walker soon realized just why the Shoat of the Mire was so ignorant of many things.

The Dowager had trained her to become a killing machine, at the expense of pretty much everything else. It was surprising she was even literate--she rendered him speechless with her fluent Old Realm, however. She handled his sword with fluidity and skill young Dynasts her age would kill to have, and she showed him she could throw her soulsteel knife with consistent accuracy. She also admitted she had been trained in the use of the bow, as the Dowager was unsurpassed in that field. Walker had never met a warrior with such an ample panoply of combat skills; few of the Sidereal Exalted would ever over-specialize to such an extent.

And then, martial arts. When she said they were ("in fact") her specialty he knew he was about to take a blow to his ego.

He had truly been lucky the night they met in the Noss Fens, for this little girl was at least his equal. And that was before Charms were added to the soup: they sparred without Essence because Shoat could not afford to waste her motes. She admitted to him she wanted to further her skills with other disciplines before focusing on mastering the style she was taught. She was kind (or naive) enough to show Walker the initial katas of her Hungry Ghost Style, which he thought vaguely reminded him of the one time he saw an Elder Sidereal practicing Charcoal March of Spiders, if only because of the coiling, low stance and its focus on heavy offense. Then again, the katas of Shoat's style were a lot more rigid than the sinuous, skittering motion of the Sidereal style. Still, as a practitioner himself, Walker was deeply impressed by this unfamiliar style from the underworld.

Fully aware he could get in trouble if her Sifu or the Fellowship found out, Walker decided to return the favor. It was just simple manners.

While the name of the style never left his lips, Walker introduced the young deathknight to the Violet Bier of Sorrows. If Walker was impressed with Shoat's Hungry Ghost Style, then Shoat fell hopelessly in love with the Violet Bier of Sorrows. Somehow the idea of drawing on inevitability as inspiration for martial arts katas pushed the right buttons in her mind. It was a rather morbid perspective, but completely valid.

Walker thought little Shoat would have made an excellent Chosen of Endings.

Deep within the forsaken halls of the Dowager's manse, the fearsome Deathlord snorted in derision at the image of Walker in Boundless Shadows in her mind, as seen from her deathknight's eyes.

The little Shoat's new guardian was one of the hated Sidereal Exalted. A particularly naive one, to trust a deathknight so quickly and so easily.

Then again, Shoat was so ignorant of the ways of the outside world. It was a way for the Dowager to weaken her; a counterbalance to the small girl's frightening prowess in all forms of combat.

And then there was the knife; that soulsteel bauble Shoat treasured so much. What Shoat did not know was that, as long as she remained attuned to the knife, the Dowager could see through her eyes, and hear what she heard.

She still had no idea how the girl managed to get out of the Mound without being noticed, but she was out, and that worked for the Dowager as well, as long as she struck her rogue deathknight with Resonance every once in a while to remind her of to whom her soul belonged to. Whatever she could learn from the Sidereal might prove useful one day, and the Shoat of the Mire would eventually fulfill her purpose, even if she was not aware of it.

SESSION END

XP Gained:
Shoat: 6 XP
Walker: 5 XP

Writer's Notes

While few things actually happened in game, this session was both meaningful and useful for us. Of course, the main purpose of this and the previous session was, as mentioned before, for the whole group to get used to the system, and especially the combat rules. Shoat and I didn't get the chance to use many Charms, but we got the hang of stunts and flurries, and by the end of the session we had an idea of the optimal combat behavior depending on whether we had early initiative or not. Further battles against multiple enemies and non-extras would confirm our reasoning.

The later part of this session, which was written in a purely descriptive manner here for the sake of reducing word count and writing time, actually involved a whole lot of roleplaying. We played out two separate battles: first against a Giant Wolf Spider (which fell disappointingly quickly--as in Loli-One-Shot-KILL quickly), and then against two Great Cats, just to play around a little--Shoat was not using Essence and I just used Blade of the Battle Maiden and stunted back the Willpower, never using Peripheral Essence.

After that, we tried all sorts of random things so that the ST would get used to quickly figuring out what roll to demand. For example, reading the map (Intelligence + Lore), using the map and the stars to guide ourselves (Intelligence + Survival), climbing trees (Dexterity + Athletics), hunting wild game (Dexterity + Survival), and so on. We even tried a multiple-roll system for fishing.

More importantly, after escaping from the zombies, we made a short break to discuss the rules and what we thought so far. That was when Shoat's player realized we had been doing something awfully wrong: we were not committing the motes used on scene-long Charms, just spending it, which allowed us to replenish our pools it via stunts. After long, quiet moment of uncomfortable silence, we were like "well, shit." She got an extra XP for that and I became painfully aware of the limitations of my Sidereal Essence pool...especially considering I intended to keep my identity a secret thus forcing me to not touch of my Peripheral Essence.

It was going to be an interesting game.

Shoat's Appearance score of 5 would become a recurrent joke throughout the campaign, and the source of many awkward moments. Her player had plans for that little girl. Scary plans.

So, next session! The heroes meet to face a common threat, and the first truly threatening battle they encounter unleashes a side of the Shoat of the Mire the others would have preferred to never see.

• back to User:Daneel_Rush.

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