DarkheartOne/ChapelOfLiarsIce

The Chapel of Liar's Ice

Location and History

Roughly six hundred miles, due east, of the Jet Court lay an unusual little oasis in the middle of the blistering cold of the Far North. The Chapel of Liar's Ice, as it is known now, was not always in the possession of its present elder raksha, the Festival of Hearts.

Long ago, well before the Empress vanished, it was in the hands of Festival's creator and master, a fearsome warmonger who was only known as Torment. For quite some time, Festival was merely a talented lackey, allowed to remain by Torment's side mostly out of neccessity. Torment despised Festival with a passion, because of his lack of martial talent and intense skill with crafting made him both useless in matters Torment enjoyed and indispensible otherwise. The tension remained, even as the two grew in power, and finally came to a head at a gala. All that is known was that one of Creation's own buried steel through Torment's heart, and escaped before anyone could stop him. Freed from Torment (and glad that his plan paid off), Festival struggled for years to gain control of the Freehold, tearing it down and rebuilding it to suit his tastes once he had secured his position as lord of the domain.

Waypoints of Note

• The Majesty of Frost Immeasurable [Freehold]

The core of the domain, The Majesty of Frost Immeasurable rests floating between the 'fingers' of Iron's Grasping Talons (or simply Talons), the Chapels' 'big city'. The Majesty is a spherical creation of multicolored ice with four gates set in the cardinal directions. Within is a sprawling Escherian series of stairways, elevated patios and walkways, all having a perfect view of the core of the Freehold. There, the bonefire burns within a massive bowl of diamond-ice, attended by various servants and guarded by Festival of Hearts' Empty Brigade. A sizeable detachment of the Brigade is, understandably, concentrated within the Majesty; Festival of Hearts holds court there, and most of the Noble goings-on occur within the icesphere's confines.

The Hearts of Festival of Hearts and The Child of Wyld Days lay within the bonefire, and they alternate control of the freehold every month.

• Red-Rimmed Razor Keep [Stronghold]

Like three bloodied swords jutting from the land, the Razor Keep comprises of three blade-shaped towers of reddened ice, leaning towards the South and originating a short distance from Talons and the Majesty. They fan out, connected with numerous raksha-made bridges and walkways, and act as birthing place, training ground and barracks for the majority of the Empty Brigade, Festival of Hearts' commoner assault force. Therein, making his home within his own transformed Sword Grace, is their leader and strategist, a dour fellow known as Strifemaster Gaul. His loyalty to Festival is nigh-absolute, and his military skill is impeccable. If danger looms, he has but only to say the word, and the Brigade will stream out of the Keep like ice-rimmed ants, ready to die for their Freehold.

As stated before, the Keep is made from Strifemaster Gaul's own Sword Grace, and is normally in attunement with Festival of Hearts.

• Iron's Grasping Talons [Throne Room]

The largest and most lively of the Chapel's waypoints, 'Talons' is something of an unusual city within the Wyld... a city built into a massive structure of ice shaped like a clawed hand about to clutch the sphere that is The Majesty of Frost Immeasurable. Without, there is only one normal gateway, and that is heavily guarded in case of hostile visitors. Admission is surprisingly easy to attain, however, and nearly any being seeking refuge, a place to start over, a good time, possible intrigue or a combination of all four are welcome.

Once past the gate within the 'Wrist' of Talons, those within are greeted to the sprawling, dazzling ice-and-stone city that is Inner Talons, where the majority of the Freehold's casual matters, dirty bargaining and various other matters of commerce and conversation occur. Actual living quarters are within the 'Fingers', and they can't be accessed from inside Inner Talons. Instead, there is an wide entrance portal in the Palm, far above Inner Talons.

Gravity within Talons remains oriented to the surface every individual thing and object is on, so that buildings within Inner Talons and on the insides of the Fingers (nothing is built on the outside, as the rules do not apply there) are often made so that business can be conducted from practically any angle. Within the empty space between surfaces, a visitor has only but to will it, and they can float around both as fast and as nimbly as they can run.

Ice-spider manikin scour the area, keeping it constantly clean, and a rather intricate system of monkey-like homunculi acts as the city's messenger service, delivering notes and whatnot to the city's denizens. They avoid the tips of the Fingers, which is where most of the more well-to-do mortals live; this is because these tips contain considerable amounts of unworked iron ore within them, enough to foil glamours for meters well past the icy surface. It is also, it should be noted, the only place where open display of cold iron is tolerated; any other displays of the metal by raksha or mortal elsewhere in Talons will bring a very stern talking-to from nearby Empty Brigade soldiers, and even possible 'forcible' eviction.

The most unusual aspect of Talons (which is forged from the Staff Grace of none other than Strifemaster Gaul) is that is bears a constant Oath that all raksha within it abide by; 'Raksha shall not harm raksha, nor shall they harm mortal, within the confines of Iron's Grasping Talons lest they invite doom and destruction upon themselves.' This... leads to a strong trade in mortal 'consulting' work; some mercenary teams live within the Talons simply to take orders from raksha--usually robberies, painful beatings and the like, although there have been unusual requests like winning a raksha maiden's heart, only to betray her. Death is rarely ordered, as it tends to bring the Empty Brigade down on the heads of both customer and mercenary.

As stated before, Talons is made from Strifemaster Gaul's own Staff Grace, and is normally in attunement with Festival of Hearts.

• Hoarfrost Orchards [Normal Waypoint]

Perhaps one of the more interesting waypoints, the Hoarfrost Orchards was created specifically for one of Festival's more loyal and interesting servants, Hakkai the Gross Gourmand. The majority of the massive and surprisingly tame-looking area is devoted to the area's namesake orchards, while the rest is a sizeable enclosed affair where Hakkai grows assorted normal and Wyld-tained herbs and vegetables. Within the massive Orchard, countless types of fruit can be found that are for the most part exactly the same as their Creation counterpart, although there are some strange hybrids. What makes these fruit so unique is that every single one of them is a pale blue, and their flesh and innards are surprisingly cold. This property remains even when they are put through the usual rigors of cooking and wine-making.

Only a small number of hoarfrost fruit have made it outside of the Chapel, and those have fetched both high prices and generated some curiousity. A buyer able to bargain for seeds (the actual fruits do not have seeds, and Hakkai guards the actual seeds jealously) can indeed grow plants of their own... but would need to provide both an unusually cool climate and equally cool water in order for the hoarfrost plants to flourish.

• Grove of Sin and Providence [Normal Waypoint]

The Grove of Sin and Providence is something of an 'oasis' in the middle of the normally tundra-like land within the Chapel's domain. It looks more like a lush Eastern fruit grove than a Northern wasteland, with a massive clearing in the middle full of perfectly-cut, perfectly-shaped and perfectly-sized (for whatever may come; the Grove quickly shifts to suit its visitors) treestumps. There, various Commoners (and some Nobles, although it's seen as 'slumming' for them to be there in most cases) ply their wares, enjoy themselves, and generally have an everlasting revel. The Grove is only inactive when Festival of Hearts himself passes through, and even then the revelers return quickly to resume. For mortals, it is theoretically a safer place than Talons, although 'safe' has a different meaning in the Wyld.

• Liar's Ice Highway [Unique Waypoint]

This area is not too spectacular in terms of appearance; it is merely a massive, raging river with large chunks of ice floating in it. It is the Highway's function that makes it special; it, as a waypoint, surrounds the perimeter of the Chapel, and allows for quick and easy travel around the Chapel, saving those either unwilling to travel the 'hard' way or that would rather limit their chances of Wyld exposure and possible trouble.

Time traveled varies on how impatient the riders, in general, are. It can take anywhere from a few minutes to thirty to move around the entirety of the Chapel, so long as one of the Creation-born doesn't try to force their way. Then it takes longer--much longer.

Required NPCs

• Festival of Hearts (Panjandrum)

Tall and slender, the Festival of Hearts looks much like the classic faerie; angular features, extensively long and pointed ears, and an inhuman grace that defies explaination. He has no hair, instead wearing a crown of ninetheen horns made from ivory and gold, each horntip bearing a little gossamer crown of its own. His skin and eyes are the color of blood, and his gossamer armor seemingly made from the stitched-together skin of countless foolish mortals, taking the shape of grotesquely elegant field plate. He is never without his weapon, a semi-sentient bardiche dotted with eyes that calls itself Matchless Beast.

The Festival of Hearts came from ignoble beginnings, a created Worker who developed an impressive sense of self, enough to, in a moment of weakness on his master's part, slay his Noble 'patron' and regain control of his Heart. From there, he only grew in strength, soon becoming a noble of considerable power. Now, he is the king of his Freehold mountain... or was. He now shares his realm with his 'daughter', a curious raksha Eshu with dreams of adventure and a knack for the arts of mortal combat. Not willing to threaten her (for fear of suffering his old master's fate), he has entered a pact of non-interaction with her, and whenever the freehold is not in his control, he withdraws into the Majesty, waiting patiently for his time to come.

Much of what exists within the Chapel is due to Festival's doing; he is a phenomenally talented generalist crafter, and a shrewd molder of society and culture. While the spell that created (and maintains) the Empty Brigade is not his, he bargained for a hundred days and nights to acquire it from an elder raksha that he has sworn to never identify. No one knows what he had to give in return, and Festival keeps that a secret as well.

The Festival is a noted proponent of a new Crusade, having little love for the shaped world. Even still, he is inwardly reluctant to support it wholeheartedly, as his unwillingness to lose his grand empire is enough to check his utter disgust with Creation.

• Hakkai the Gross Gourmand [Ornamental Raksha]

The Cook Indispensable, Hakkai of the Thousand Ingredients--Hakkai is known as many things, but none of them have anything to do with him being a troublemaker. Hakkai, a porcine fellow of muscle as wide as he is tall, strikes one as being the perfect melange of man and boar, complete with curving tusks, hooves in place of feet, and a prominent snout that juts through his well-managed mop of black hair. He is (as he will readily inform new faces) a cooking legend, easily outdoing Creation's best and brightest; he grows and uses the finest ingredients, and has access to many more that don't or can't exist in Creation. His specialty, much to the dismay of most visiting mortals, is human flesh... although he does have a Cynis housemember (who refuses to give his name) of some importance who regularly visits his cafe within the Hoarfrost Orchards.

His true specialty lies within his massive selection of 'inner spices', spices forged from gossamer specifically culled from certain sorts of dreams and experiences. Thus, he can add the delightful sting of orgasm to a salad, the overpowering sensation of despair to a roast rack of lamb, or even the indescribable flavor of bloodlust to a simple vegetable medley.

He is also the Chapel's Guild liason, and the raksha that new slaves first meet. He gives them a simple warning: accept their new place in life without fuss, or end up in his meatlocker. Obviously, most slaves fall in line quickly. Also possessed of a decent sense for mortal business, he tends to whatever mundane Guild matters that Festival himself won't attend to.

Hakkai is neutral in regards to a second Crusade. Then again, he's neutral to much of everything, as it has kept him safe so far. His relaxed nature and easy-to-tolerate personality has kept him in control of his Graces, as well as safe from most internal strife.

• Strifemaster Gaul [Strategos]

Strifemaster Gaul is one of the rare raksha who is actually intensely ugly, but in a manner that is such the perfect incarnation of all that is vile and repulsive that he borders on comical. None would dare tell him this to his face, however. His hair is long and slick, dust-gray and full of little white bone beads. He has no face, but when he is excited or angered, twin pinpoints of smouldering red hatred appear within the mask that is his face, where eyes would be.

It was war that made Gaul, and it is war that he lives for. Gaul enjoys, loves, needs mass conflict. Even beneath the featureless, smooth obsidian face and sackcloth that he wears when not engaged in his beloved art, there is a blazing hunger that borders on obsession. When the chance arises to send the Empty Brigade forth, he dons armor of a make that even some raksha envy, and proudly, enthusiastically throws himself into the act. Even while planning and speaking of mass combat, his enthusiasm shines through his voice, even while his posture remains slumped.

All else pales to the act of war; Festival of Hearts has graciously let him keep his Heart, but his other Graces are in the builder's hands, and Festival is gradually making them into structures for his freehold. So long as he can perform his duties, Gaul cares not.

One peculiar thing about Gaul; he craves war... but he will only rarely manufacture one. He finds much more pleasure in taking up arms without previous warning or preparation. A sudden war is the truest sort, in his opinion.

• Bloodied Waters [Warrior]

A close friend of the Child of Wyld Days, this hardened, seasoned warrior and commander of the Sword is a man formed and armored in blood-tinged ice, his blade a razor-keen spike of frost-rimmed blood. He looks striking and a tad handsome, with a face perfect for cocky smirks and baleful stares. Long blue icicle hair, highlighted with rust-colored streaks, streams down his back, emitting tiny puffs of frost and snow as it's disturbed. His goatee is similar, small chunks of ice-hair falling away from time to time, only to be replaced in moments.

Quite the fighter and shaper, he is well on his way to Nobility within the ranks of the Raksha, and has even gained a promise from the Child for a Cyst once she gains more power within the Freehold. Whether that is a play to gain his assistance in uprooting Festival of Hearts or not remains to be seen...

• Ninety-Nine Promises [Entertainer]

A curiousity even amongst the raksha, Ninety-Nine Promises is nonetheless distubingly beautiful, if somewhat unusual in appearance; she is a woman-shaped mess of silken sashes, each a different color. It would seem that there's a woman under it all, but attempts to remove cloth cause her pain, not unlike trying to peel the flesh from a mortal.

She has other names, her original being the Silken Sigh. But she is famously known as Ninety-Nine Promises, for she constantly remakes herself in the most brutal of ways after fulfilling that number of duties to the raksha or mortal she latches on to; through some miracle only she seems to know, she breaks her Heart enough to completely wipe out her established personality, repairing it and starting afresh. She remembers nothing... save that, after the ninety-ninth promise, she must do it again...

• The Million [Formerly-Mortal Behemoth]

His name, long ago, was Andrew Ten-Oak Fennowell. He was a strong man, a warrior's warrior. He, however, was the sort who lusted for strength and dominance, a difficult thing to attain when you are a mortal among Exalted. In his frustration, he dared to dive headlong into the Northern Wylds, seeking for power to put him on the same level as those damned god-chosen.

He found that power... in Festival of Hearts.

Impressed by his impetuous, driven nature, Festival actually granted his request, using his miracles to make the man into a terrifying monster... and was amazed when the man's soul magnified his work a hundredfold. This anomalous power made what should have been a mere fey beast into a terrifying horror, a gigantic monster made of exactly a million spindly ice-limbs formed into a surprisingly mobile urchin-like ball. His sentience and drive remains... and he has proven himself to be a capable enough beast that the Festival of Hearts lets him roam freely along the northern reaches of the Chapel.

The Million strikes like a sea of spears, is amazingly difficult to injure, and can even enter in shaping contests with other raksha, as the Festival of Hearts has given the monster the full set of Graces, save for a Heart; at the core, The Million is still human, and he can never truly become either behemoth or raksha.

Not that he cares. He is a killing machine now.

Empty Brigade Units

Gaul loves war, and he is blessed to have a lord who does not mind watching him wage battle with other freeholds and those mortals foolish enough to venture so far North in an attempt to 'reclaim' lost land from the Wyld.

• Fleetfooted Empty Swords

The standard humanoid footmen of the Empty Brigade, these are the bread-and-butter soldiers of the freehold's forces, nothing more than Sword Commoners so they cannot simply be shaped away. They carry the full assortment of standard melee weapons, and are the largest part of the Empty Brigade. Organized much like Creation forces, their commanding officers are Heroic Sword Commoners. Bloodied Waters is one of them, and one of their most promising commanders.

• Steadfast Empty Hooves

These units are the mobile assault forces of the Empty Brigade, their forms consisting of the upper half of a man, from torso to head, and the lower half of a unicorn. While lacking the unicorn's sanctified aura, they are nonetheless extremely mobile, and are either lancers, shock troopers, or mobile archer units that quickly flank incoming forces. Like the Empty Swords, the base forces are Sword Commoners, while the commanders are Heroic Sword Commoners.

• Inescapable Empty Scales

These warriors play an important role in the Brigade's immensely effective multi-prong attack. All of them are humanoid from torso to head, but have immensely long snake-like tails, the ends bulb-shaped and covered with poisonous barbs. Also, six massive, prism-feathered wings jut from their back. These units fly at impressive speeds, and can launch their spines far below at enemies, as well as fire arrows, drop sinister wyld devices (such as jars of liquid fire from the South) and overrun airships. As with the previous groups, the majority are Sword Commoners, while the commanders are Heroic.

• The Black Frost Wolves

Oddly enough, the Black Frost Wolves are not a part of the Empty Brigade, but are nonetheless called to fight with them on many an occasion. They are different, and immensely deadly, for one particular reason: they are a mortal mercenary army, made out of Wyld barbarians and held together by a cadre of three war-hungry Dragon-Blooded warriors specifically shielded from the madness of the Wyld. When not called to war, they are the ones who do the most 'business' in Talons, but when battle comes, they are a notably feared fighting force. They arm themselves with nothing but masterfully-crafted cold iron, save for the three known as the Three Dead Wolves (a disgraced Ragara, an honor-bound soldier from a lesser Gens in Lookshy, and a fae-blooded outcaste born in the North), who socket Cold Iron Bauble hearthstones in their weapons. They are feared, and rightly so, so much that they are not allowed within five waypoints of the nearby Court, and Festival of Hearts has gotten considerable heat for keeping them... but no one dares actually move against them. No one knows how they are kept from turning on Festival himself, but some suspect he somehow holds their souls in the way raksha hold each others' Hearts...

Additional Raksha Trickery

• The Chapel's ambient Wyld essence flows are somewhat controlled, steered away from where mortals would normally gather; while this doesn't affect respiration and gossamer harvesting, it makes it exceptionally difficult for one to develop the usual effects of prolonged Wyld exposure so long as they remain in those 'safe areas'---mainly Talons and its immediate surroundings.