[Exalted] Audacibus annue coeptis [Archive] - Giant in the Playground Forums

Orosboru

2012-01-23, 01:05 PM

Happy is the one who knows the cause of things, and has set all fear, and unrelenting fate, and the noise of greedy Acheron, under his feet.

- Vergil, the Georgics, Book ll ll. 490-493

Sleep. To rest. To dream of tomorrows unfulfilled, of a better yesterday. Wild fantasies, the food and drink of the wyld, of which Creation confines happy thoughts and lucid delirium into a single, vulnerable place. To sleep in one world and awaken in another - tell me, are you still dreaming? Has your world gone so terribly bright as to be sickly sweet? Or has it grown terrifying and vengeful, the stuff of grand terror? When I awake, I see one world - one plan, one dream - and the idle thoughts of others quail under my magnificent gaze.

For I see you.

...

Shall we play a game?

...

Act 1: Nightmare
Sitala

You can't hide from us. You can't.

Liar. Betrayer. Oathbreaker. Murderer.

What did you see that made you close your heart?

Cold-hearted. Ruthless.

Feel what we feel. See what we saw. SEE!

And suddenly you're not exalted anymore. You're a plain mortal, and you can't run. You can't hide. Those two evil green eyes, staring at you through the mists and fog of memory, are coming. And you can't stop it. As they come closer, they grow smaller and smaller until they come in the shape of a person.

You.

Prosus
When you were young, you remember feeling utterly terrified of these dreams. That they were utterly inexplicable and sapped at your will. But as you grew up, you cast aside these things.

You're a small child. You're resting in a crib. The door is slightly open, and soft, echoing sounds are barely audible. You struggle to hear them, even as your adult mind has a horrid recollection of what is to come.

You hear screams.

The door swings slightly more open, and you can hear the delicate administrations of the Fair Folk with all its grotesque detail. Screams of pain. Screams of joy. Screams of ecstasy. Then, silence. This is the worse part. The screams mean that they're no longer alive.

And the door, cursedly open, gives you another thing.

...hello, little child.

Sarin
You remember the sacrifice you made for the First Circle of Terrestrial sorcery. It was something that you cherished. Something that you always held close to you. Something that meant something. You've thought that was the end of it. But you've forgotten exactly what you've given. It's not coming back to you.

Your body is curiously... separate. With a detached, musing sort of way, you're observing your flesh being flayed apart, your limbs pinned on the wall removed from the main body, slowly, like a doll.

There is always a price. You must pay the debt of Sorcery, of Brigid's bane. You must pay.

And you start to forget who you are. The moments are separated, like you are forgetting huge stretches of time without end. And the laughter, the endless laughter, the crying and the pain is-

Itto

A battlefield. Not unusual.

"Bravo! Bravo, little human! Bravo!" You turn. A Fair Folk noble is sitting down on some sort of chair, lounging back with a drink with a lemon slice in it. "Congratulations! I didn't think that you've done it, but you have! The courts have never feasted this well since the war with the Shaped!" He claps his hands mockingly. "It isn't even fun anymore! Why bother going into your Creation when all we have to do is hover close to get a taste of your suffering?" He picks up a skull.

"Alas, poor Yorick, I once... You don't get the reference, do you?" He sighs. "There was that accursed river. Then those golden boy and silver girl. Then a whole horde of them. Now, they're all gone." He stands up. "I'm not feeling up to tormenting you tonight. Those other humans are much more interesting. You're... not a emotionally disturbed individual. Your Staff is too rigid. Give me some time and I'll find something to hurt you deeply."

Ozora

They're all dying.

Your brothers and sister, they're all dying.

A great tsunami. A great volcano. A great hurricane. A great earthquake.

Visions of death.

They're all dead.

industrious

2012-01-23, 06:23 PM

When you were young, you remember feeling utterly terrified of these dreams. That they were utterly inexplicable and sapped at your will. But as you grew up, you cast aside these things.

You're a small child. You're resting in a crib. The door is slightly open, and soft, echoing sounds are barely audible. You struggle to hear them, even as your adult mind has a horrid recollection of what is to come.

You hear screams.

The door swings slightly more open, and you can hear the delicate administrations of the Fair Folk with all its grotesque detail. Screams of pain. Screams of joy. Screams of ecstasy. Then, silence. This is the worse part. The screams mean that they're no longer alive.

And the door, cursedly open, gives you another thing.

...hello, little child.

Prorsus

Dreams. They had defined so much of his early life.

But that part had ended half a lifetime ago.

His nightmares were what had led him to his Sifu. His desire to silence the screams of his parents were what had driven him to learn quickly and perfectly.

The first night he dreamed easily was the night he had Exalted.

He was the Master of his own dreams now.

He wasn't a child anymore.

"This is not how it happened."

Quicksilver Staircase, for reference.

Orosboru

2012-01-23, 06:51 PM

Prorsus

Essence-patterns. Not the originals. A clever copy. You would applaud the attention to detail, but you're not interested in that.

"Interesting." The voice booms. "You know this game. You can fight back." And you are yourself, in your dream-avatar, your perfect envisioning. "I would ask who taught you, but that would be gauche. The essence-pattern vibrates warmly, a sure sign of a Fair Folk. "Human. Your dreams were so sweet. But they stopped. What a pity."

It tries to assert itself in the realm, but it is limited to shaping a basic environment. The simple stream and green grass and trees are all it can muster. "It happened in another way, I'm sure. I'll indulge you. What novelty lies behind the shuttered door! The novelty!" It coos in a feminine way. "Something new!"

Ifni

2012-01-23, 08:02 PM

You can't hide from us. You can't.

No. Never.

(An inward contraction, a curling around a mental wound. A child's crying. A caged bird, wings beating at the bars. A whisper on the wind, quickly muted: Forever? And the answer, twining through the dreaming world: As long as it takes. As much as it costs.)

Liar. Betrayer. Oathbreaker. Murderer.

Yes. I know.

(So many times yes. Does the litany sting less, after a hundred repetitions, or a thousand? She lost count long ago. Still, add one.)

What did you see that made you close your heart?

The student learns by emulation of the teacher. Do you think I didn't watch? Do you think I didn't see?

Cold-hearted. Ruthless.

Do you think I didn't learn? Sacrifice is the final wisdom.

Feel what we feel. See what we saw. SEE!

Always.

The Oracle's eyes do not close. Through blinkers and blindfolds, the Seer's gaze is piercing and unflinching: she does not look aside, from any horror.

Duty above honor, above justice, above love. I stand witness.

And suddenly you're not exalted anymore. You're a plain mortal, and you can't run. You can't hide. Those two evil green eyes, staring at you through the mists and fog of memory, are coming. And you can't stop it. As they come closer, they grow smaller and smaller until they come in the shape of a person.

You.

(A shake of the head. A wry, sad smile.)

Do you think I don't remember?

In one hand she holds a goblet, cut from crystal the cold green hue of pine needles. The liquid it contains is dark and still: wine, or blood?

She raises it in salute to the newcomer. Welcome, Traitor.

industrious

2012-01-23, 08:30 PM

Prorsus

"I feared what your kind did beyond that door even before I learnt what your kind was. It is no good to appeal to novelty to convince me."

He stands, then, and draws his hook swords, holding the blades loosely at his sides. After a moment's pause, he passes the latter into his left hand, leaving his right free. The Quicksilver Hand could only be used unarmed, after all.

"How did you enter my dreams? "

Orosboru

2012-01-23, 08:36 PM

Sitala

"It's no fun when you give up so quickly." A annoyed male voice says. "I know that a guilty conscience takes you so far, but this?" Your reflection disappears in a single burst, and you are taken to a infinite white void with two chairs, a desk in between. A hooded man is smoking a large pipe.

"You know this game. You've played it before." He takes a long drag, the ssmoke billowing into a rainbow of colours. "Oh, for Luna's sake!" He puts iit down. "Can I tell you that this happened all before? Your trite mortal betrayals have been felt for millions of aeons in the past and the future?

Betrayer-

"Oh, shut up and hide with your mother." The ghost manifestation leaves. "I'm just here to give you some respite. You're addicted to that stone." He glances elsewhere. "If you don't stop using it, you'll die." He shrugs. "Shall we visit a more pleasant memory? You have a couple."

Britter

2012-01-23, 09:26 PM

Itto

A battlefield. Not unusual.

"Bravo! Bravo, little human! Bravo!" You turn. A Fair Folk noble is sitting down on some sort of chair, lounging back with a drink with a lemon slice in it. "Congratulations! I didn't think that you've done it, but you have! The courts have never feasted this well since the war with the Shaped!" He claps his hands mockingly. "It isn't even fun anymore! Why bother going into your Creation when all we have to do is hover close to get a taste of your suffering?" He picks up a skull.

"Alas, poor Yorick, I once... You don't get the reference, do you?" He sighs. "There was that accursed river. Then those golden boy and silver girl. Then a whole horde of them. Now, they're all gone." He stands up. "I'm not feeling up to tormenting you tonight. Those other humans are much more interesting. You're... not a emotionally disturbed individual. Your Staff is too rigid. Give me some time and I'll find something to hurt you deeply."

The weight of the armor, the feel of the blade in his hands, the stink of blood and sweat and death. The aching in his muscles, the groans of the wounded, the gasps of the dying, the call of carrion birds.

Familiar. Comfortable. Home.

The voice jars him out of the moment, brings his attention to the oddness that marks this as a dream.

He listens to the Raksha, feeling confused and insulted in equal measure. Being thanked for something that has given the Fair Folk nourishment. Being ignored. These things bothered him, though he took fierce pride in the fact that he seemed to bother this Noble. That was a tactical advantage.

This was unusual, this dream. And the Raksha could walk in dreams. There was danger here. He was familiar with danger. This was battle like any other, and all battles are fought first in the mind.

He walked towards the seated noble, stopping about six feet from it and sinking down into the uncomfortable kneeling posture known as tatehiza, the only way to sit when wearing full armor, if no chair or stool was available. He bowed slightly, a mere nod of the head, just enough to barely meet the demands of etiquette.

"My sorrow is not enough for you then? There is no shortage of that. I can only imagine I am a rich meal. I have known my share of sorrow." He shifts slightly, resting his elbow on his knee, cupping his chin with the other hand. His tone is light, conversational, polite. "Perhaps we can discuss what it is about me that you find both simultaneously appealing and disagreeable." He lowered his right hand slowly, tapping the hilt of his sword with the index finger. ""Or perhaps we can see just how real this place is, and if you or I can die here."

He tilts his head to the side, a gesture of polite interest.

"Your choice."

Orosboru

2012-01-23, 09:41 PM

Ifni

2012-01-23, 09:48 PM

Sitala

Sitala smiles without warmth, and sits down. She takes a slow sip from the cup. "I know what I am. I prefer guilt to self-deception. As you say - when it comes to betrayal, I'm in good company, historically speaking."

She raises an eyebrow at him. "So, are you an aspect of my mind, or an external intruder? If the former, a protective mechanism? The part of me that just wants the nightmares to go away? If the latter... now, why should I ever trust you?" She slowly traces the lines on her palm with one finger. "In any case, telling me to set aside my hearthstone is rather suspicious. Unless you want to give more details, of course? Maybe introduce yourself?"

Respite from pain lies in Saturn's portfolio. If he is a spy, or an enemy, giving him the deep treasured memories she uses to bolster her will seems inadvisable. "But sure, we can go somewhere nicer. If you're telling the truth, I should be a better host." On the chance he is genuine... it would be nice to sleep peacefully, and wake restored. It's been happening less and less often, recently.

There's a park in Yu-Shan, not so far from her apartment. It's not famous or particularly spectacular, not like the great wilds of Luna's domain, and its assigned caretakers tend to mostly ignore it. It's small and obscure enough that it's mostly frequented by those who dwell nearby, and many of Yu-Shan's up-and-coming bureaucrats don't care for such relatively-dingy and untamed aesthetics. But it's beautiful there, and peaceful: she used to slip away there often when she was younger, on days of festival and celebration when the clamor of the city became overwhelming. She had her own special spot, amid a tumble of massive boulders, at the edge of a cliff that fell sheer into the rainforest valley below. She liked to perch there and delight in the view, earth and sky spread out before her.

So, there. A place she's not likely to be able to go anytime soon; she doesn't foresee much leave in the near future. A place that holds no associations with others, painful or otherwise. A pleasant memory, but not one essential to the affirmation of her self.

Behind her, around her, the void changes. Brilliant light streams down from the moon and stars above. A nightingale's song drifts through the last of the twilight. She draws up her legs and sits on the top of one of the boulders, hugging her knees. She breathes in the memory of peace. "Does this one work for you?"

Orosboru

2012-01-23, 10:21 PM

Sitala
"Yes, perfect, this is good." He spins around. "It's good to have something constant to return to, whether it be identity, as in my case, or a memory, in yours. But to the issue at hand..." He sits down on the floor, a butterfly descending to his finger.

"I think that many mortals live in their own worlds. That's what makes them so fascinating to us. That they could be so limited as to place bonds on themselves. That their true love is the truest it will ever be. Their principles are the strongest when they live up to themselves. But in the pressure of events - set up by me or 'fate', as you call it - they see themselves for what they really are. So it is a lie when we call your people shaped - for they are given a single chance to shape themselves in their lifetimes."

He turns around to look at you. "But who are we in the dark, that time? I can betray myself equally as well I can uphold virtues that I defined myself. But mortals can't do that. They can only stand up once in their times, or retreat and fail. That's where your guilt comes from. You know what you are. You've seen what you could do, and nothing can comfort you to what you saw on your shaping day."

"For I? I am... a secret." He blows on the butterfly, and it turns into a crystal. "A good secret. The secret of misunderstood lovers and happy coincidences and auspicious times not examined too closely."

industrious

2012-01-23, 10:23 PM

Prorsus

"Or shall I awaken, and leave you bereft of both?"

He feels for the node at the back of his neck; a push there, along with a small amount of redirected Essence, and he'd return to the waking world.

Breath has no meaning in dreams, but he breathes slowly, in and out. Calming himself. Refusing to let the Fae feast itself on his emotions. But calmly.

"This memory is ill-suited for a conversation."

One of the study rooms during his education, then. Very plain, even by Earthly standards, as to aid one's concentration and focus. A table, a desk, two chairs. Little else.

Prorsus takes one chair, indicates the other to the raksha in the room.

"Now, then. Elucidate. What drama lies in the petty annoyance of myself? Or is the best one such as you can manage? My condolences, incidentally, if it is the latter case."

He paces his words carefully; the impression is that of veiled polite disinterest. But the words themselves...

Orosboru

2012-01-23, 10:37 PM

Prorsus

Oh, you are teased too easily. If I wasn't limited to these forms, I would gobble you up! But enough idle talk. Let me speak to you on the matter I was bidden." She takes the form of a young maiden, her eyes delightfully missing.

"When the shaped created shape, they had nothing else left to do. They were..." She struggles for the word. "Unsatisfied. Incomplete. Empty. They did not have your banished-one's intriguing device, and they were free- so the bearer of their king's order said that there was an answer in their origin. A answer that blazed with light and would fill them and they would be happy. They gave up after a short while, of which would be incalculable eons to you. They settled to their games and indulgences. But of all of them, only two did not give up. One was Gaea, of Luna's love. The other... was not."

She again struggles to express it in a way that would make sense to you. And it... he... she... by my name, it is a indignity to express it in your language! He treads paths that even the Boar would shy from. She walks in places that the Eye could not see. It is a place in the wyld that is kept a wide berth in its passing. And it is coming back. That is what I have been bidden to say, you surly host." She crosses her arms and turns away.

Britter

2012-01-23, 11:08 PM

Itto

"Dying is a novelty, but one that can be only experienced once. I think I'll pass." He throws the skull away. "You're fierce. Your 'exalts' have the most delightful taste of betrayal and perfection which makes the less temperate of us rush to ravish you." He sighs. "This is your home, so I'll make this quick, little one: Our court is to war with yours. Your silver-hued ones are fighting battles. Many battles. We will always win, but... they are so tenacious!" He walks off, frustrated. "And they're weird and changing, like us! But even more so than usual! It's frustrating! And unfair! Why, if the shaped can change their shape, why call them shaped in the first place!" He yells out indignantly. "What in my name is that about!"

Itto nods polite agreement as the Raksha speaks. He maintains the outward veneer of disinterest, but inwardly he can't help but feel a thrill. War on the horizon. The Fair Folk on the move, doing battle with Lunars on the fringes of Creation. This was prime intelligence, and he needed to get it to the Division of Battles.

Divinations would need to be done, astrological charts reviewed, simulations run. The Pattern Spiders would need to be consulted. Handled properly this could be a most auspicious event.

It might be possible to weaken both the Fair Folk and the Lunars significantly by manipulating these conflicts. The surviving Lunars remained a threat to the Bronze Faction, and the Raksha were a danger to all Creation. To pit them against each other, to nudge and guide such a conflict, was a proposition worth investigating. Handled correctly it could reduce Lunar power tremendously, sending their defeated Exaltations running to young, inexperienced incarnations.

But he mustn't get ahead of himself. One must not forget first principles - and the first principle of battle is to see what is actually in front of you, not what you think is in front of you.

And the Raksha were nothing if not capable of great deception.

"Luna's Children are survivors. They do not care to yield, and they will make you pay dearly for every inch of ground you gain. An admirable trait, though it is exploitable."

Itto turns his head, following the Raksha with his gaze. He intends to draw this out and learn as much as he can.

"Regardless, the Lunars are not my court, not any more. Do you intend to also bring your fight to us, to wage a war on two fronts? An audacious plan...but if you have such intentions is it not foolish to make us aware of them?" He smiles slightly, though no mirth touches his eyes. "We are not the Lunars, after all. Like you, our ways are...subtle. To give us such an advantage would be quite inadvisable."

He stands smoothly, walks a parallel course to the noble.

"So, given as how I doubt you are a fool, perhaps you can enlighten me as to why you are troubling my sleep with talk of future strife?"

Orosboru

2012-01-23, 11:19 PM

Itto

"To take the entirety of the four courts as my word is even greater foolishness, is it not. Nevertheless, the weaker nobles closer to your Creation take umbrage to this sudden invasion. The more powerful ones deeper in the Wyld do not care. Why should they?" He smirks.

"Much as you are a delight to talk to, I was bidden here to tell you of matters of great report. You see, this..." He shakes with disgust. "Epidemic of death in Creation is unpleasing to many. Mortal passion is inhibited by the sudden easement of life. Why, it is unpleasant enough that we recall a time where we were admitted by the hands of your kings and queens and then blasted almost immediately. How unsporting." He gestures to the battlefield.

Of my court, we prefer more... productive pleasures. Lust for love is less destructive than lust for war. There are many of us with many opinions- I'm going off track again." He forces himself into a single shape, his face ashen. There are these... zones that we cannot enter. We shall not enter. There is nothing there for us, and there is nothing that will make us go there. We are perplexed as to their nature, and we must inform you that there are many such places in your Creation. We ask why, for there are many interesting things of report that we have observed."

industrious

2012-01-23, 11:26 PM

Prorsus

A glass of water appears in Prorsus's hand. He uses it to keep the retort from his lips.

"An interesting story. I will, of course, have to verify it for myself."

He had a contact with the Division of Serenity that could help. And he, of course, could make his own inquiries.

Prorsus inclines his head in a small-nearly immeasurable-bow.

"I thank you all the same for it."

It is much easier to have a conversation when he isn't being haunted by nightmares of his childhood. Nightmares involving creatures such as the one before him.

"May this humble servant of the Celestial Bureaucracy inquire why the Fae of-which Court did you say you were from?-chose to deliver this message? And to myself in particular?

He rather suspects, though he keeps his suspicions to himself, that he was merely a target of opportunity. His Dreams from before were probably simply too tempting. He'd have to figure something out.

Britter

2012-01-24, 12:04 AM

Ifni

2012-01-24, 12:10 AM

Sitala:

"How is your constant identity defined, if you deconstruct and reconstruct the aspects of your self on a whim?" She sounds curious. "Is it a thematic unity, one that encompasses particular virtues and their opposites, as the constellations have both ascending and descending aspects? Or something even broader?"

The cup is no longer in her hand. She is wearing hiking boots and sturdy clothing. A simple stick lies beside her on the rock. She laces her fingers together, and laughs quietly.

"Ah well, a mutual psychoanalysis session with one of the Fae is more congenial than my usual dreams of late." She smiles at him. "But what brings you here, my Secret? You're kind, but surely it's not simple concern for me." Auspicious times not examined too closely? Her voice takes on a certain shading of irony. "Happy Calibration, incidentally. Would that be part of your purview?"

Orosboru

2012-01-24, 12:21 AM

"Sadly, it is not." He shapes himself into small hill with rolling poppies blowing into the wind. "I was bidden here to give you a message that is much less happy than myself." The hill shrugs. It is not a hill, exactly. "My peers tell me that I am too kind, and I shall uphold their forcible distinction. I will not tell you of the events in Malfeas, because I am kind. I will not tell you that the Ebon Dragon is flying around the Demon City for a week out of sheer joy and even Erembour grows tired of casting her shadow. I will not tell you of Cecelyne's laughter or Adorjan's cries. I will not tell you what has happened to your former Sifu. I will not tell you all of these things, because I am kind." He finishes off.

Wulff

2012-01-24, 12:44 AM

Sarin
You remember the sacrifice you made for the First Circle of Terrestrial sorcery. It was something that you cherished. Something that you always held close to you. Something that meant something. You've thought that was the end of it. But you've forgotten exactly what you've given. It's not coming back to you.

Your body is curiously... separate. With a detached, musing sort of way, you're observing your flesh being flayed apart, your limbs pinned on the wall removed from the main body, slowly, like a doll.

There is always a price. You must pay the debt of Sorcery, of Brigid's bane. You must pay.

And you start to forget who you are. The moments are separated, like you are forgetting huge stretches of time without end. And the laughter, the endless laughter, the crying and the pain is-

Not mine. "I paid my price." Sarin whispers. "I may have forgotten, but how much of that was your doing?" He starts spinning in place, hunting for his tormentor. "Where are you? I don't know what you are doing, but this is my dream, and you WILL leave me be." Behind the bravado, however, lies a fear of whatever is doing this, and what it want with him.

Ifni

2012-01-24, 02:21 AM

Sitala:

There are poppies in her hands, freshly picked, red as arterial blood. She weaves a wreath of flowers, as she speaks. The stick lies at her side.

"So very kind." The wind rises, blowing softly around the massive boulders, lofting the red blossoms. "One might imagine, indeed, that the Yozis would rejoice at the downfall of those who led their overthrow. Politics makes for strange bedfellows, and war more so. I wonder if they plot to take advantage; I wonder where their focus lies." She finishes the wreath, and tosses it gently toward the not-hill. "There are many things a kind dreamer might refrain from describing in lavish detail, no?"

A simple knife appears in her hand, and she picks up the stick, and begins smoothing away the rough edges. "As for my Sifu - there is no former. Don't you know that part of our tradition? Let me give it as a gift, then: your first teacher is always your teacher." She looks down at the knife. For a moment, there's blood on the blade. "See how obliging I am? I do not even wonder what fate might follow a fallen faithful Vizier, for kindness to conceal." She sits still, turning the blade over and over in her hands.

vegetalss4

2012-01-24, 04:05 AM

Ozora

I look around through the carnage of my fallen brothers struck with grief, when a thought springs into my head.
This is not as it should be.
The dreamstone I used before going to bed was supposed to contain a relaxing flight through a mountain chain.
Someone must have interfered.
My face is emotionless as I ask the question
Who are you and what do you want?

Orosboru

2012-01-24, 03:23 PM

Sarain
"Ickie little dragonblood, doesn't know how to play." A child's voice says. "What a bad man! The world's changed and you yet dream with me!" Harsh laughter echoes in your mind. "So... tell me. What dream should I sample next? You Exalts are like chips - I can't eat just one!" A series of giggles ending in a sigh.

Ozora
...
A battle maiden in red armour stands from a high hill, right next to you. She is watching the carnage, and she is silent.
..?

Wulff

2012-01-25, 05:31 AM

"How can I be expected to play if you don't tell me the rules," Sarin says cannily. "and I have never claimed to be anything but a bad man. A good man wouldn't do what I do." He laughs, though it is slightly hollow. Lets hope you sample someone else's dream next. he thinks bitterly, examining the child more closely, searching for some weakness.

vegetalss4

2012-01-26, 07:11 AM

Ozora

Silence answers silence.
Patience, patience.

Orosboru

2012-01-26, 04:41 PM

Ozora & Itto
To the shared masters of silence, one gesture can mean a thousand pictures, a million words said in a single movement. Entire epics can be told from the cascade of hair or the tautness of muscle. But this terribly beautiful maiden of red, her mien afire with promises of glory, of warfare, of endless battles until the end of time, wields all of herself as a perfectly honed weapon.

And she draws herself. To many, it is nothing. To you, it is a challenge.

..!

"We're walking in the Wyld, boy. Things fade in and out, ever the contrary, and so do I. If you wish for promises or assurances, you are a fool. Come. Look." He points in the distance. You see... a maiden clad in red. And a man. "A duel! Let me get the popcorn!" He pulls out a box filled with... popped corn. With cow butter, for some reason.
...
Sarin and Sitala

"Good men fight the end of day, but life goes on to their great dismay." She explodes into a shower of red rain which passes through you. "No. I do not wish your mind's pleasure. Your flesh vexes me." She roils into a red crystal, solid, grounded. "Your eyes delude me. Your heart beats me. I want a taste. Give it to me."

"If you would care to stop horrifying the mortal, Master, perhaps we could deliver the message we were coming to send?" A annoyed female voice says. "May I remind you that we are still bound by that irritable Sun-Chosen's word not to harm his subjects?"

"Don't want to. Why should I care?" She turns into ice. "It's your job to take care of those things."

...

"Your teacher... he is, in fact-" He frowns. "My wife is here. If you'd follow me..." The mountain disappears into a subdued (for a fair folk) man who looks perfectly average (if he was creation born). Surprising. You're dreaming of the aftermath of a volcano eruption.

"Ugh." The voice manifests as a tall woman, her armour surprisingly consistent. We have guests, mistress.

"Interesting decision. If I'd known you'd come here, I'd wouldn't have bothered to show up." A man and woman poof out of nowhere. He turns to the woman. "I'm terribly sorry, but can I tell you about your unrequited love some other time? I have a mortal to save from the clutches of a villainess."

"You'd ravish him yourself. Don't play the suck-up." The noble shrugs his shoulders.

Britter

2012-01-26, 09:53 PM

Itto

"We're walking in the Wyld, boy. Things fade in and out, ever the contrary, and so do I. If you wish for promises or assurances, you are a fool. Come. Look." He points in the distance. You see... a maiden clad in red. And a man. "A duel! Let me get the popcorn!" He pulls out a box filled with... popped corn. With cow butter, for some reason.
...

Itto nods at the Nobles comments. He is trying to hard to place constraints on this place. It is a mistake. He must adapt and flow. This is just another sort of battle.

He follows the Raksha as he points out the duel. The potential conflict interests Itto. There is something more real about it than the rest of this dream. He remains quiet and watches how things unfold.

Ifni

2012-01-27, 02:57 AM

Sitala:

Sitala glances curiously around at the new scene, noting the shape of the mountains, the colors and texture of the rock, the temperature of the air, the scent of the vapors drifting from the vents. Perhaps later she can identify the location, if the dream reflects a real place.

She clasps the walking-stick lightly in one hand, resting it on the ash-covered stone. The knife is sheathed at her belt. Staff and sword; advance with the courage of your convictions. The bitter cup can be set aside, for now: this is intriguing. Even if it's merely a game the Fair Folk play, games can reveal more than their players intend. Of course, that goes both ways.

She listens to the banter silently, only raising an eyebrow when the two newcomers poof into existence. She studies them, and the armored woman, not bothering to hide her interest.

"A noble quest? How charming. Will you introduce me to your colleagues, my Secret?"

vegetalss4

2012-01-27, 02:42 PM

Ozora.

A slight shift in my position, a movement scarcely more than a few centimeters, yet no more is needed.
I am ready.
I may not have my favored type of weapon here, but I still have no intention of yielding to this maiden.

Wulff

2012-01-28, 07:27 PM

Sarin

"Give me the massage demon." demands Sarin, standing more comfortably now he knows that he should be safe. "You will get no taste of flesh from me. Hurry up and be on your way."

Ifni

2012-01-28, 11:53 PM

Sitala:

The Chosen of Secrets' eyes narrow slightly as the man speaks. Is this the mortal the Fae referred to, and the 'wife' the villainess? He seems... very confident, for a mortal. Folding her arms, she studies him, taking in every detail while she waits to hear the replies to their questions.

Of course, there's no guarantee his appearance here reflects the waking world. It's been a long time since she's had a chance to go hiking, although - she glances down at herself - her body image seems moderately consonant with reality. Slight angular frame, light bronze skin, shoulder-length black hair; she wonders idly if her eyes bear the Maidens' characteristic stamp, here.

And less idly, reconsidering the man's words, she wonders if "demon" is spoken with knowledge or mere bravado. Her own visitant seems to have more information about Malfeas than she'd expect from the typical Fae.

Orosboru

2012-02-01, 07:56 PM

Prosus

"Know this, mortal. The Wheel grinds yet again. The cold seeds of spring bring a truly wretched fruit of winter. There will be pain, and loss, as such Mortals portend as terrifying. We do not understand. Perhaps we will never understand. The madness of which it is seeks shape and form. And it returns to thee, like a desperate lover on the last day's meeting." The Fae turns cold and small.

"I return to the North, whence my brothers and sisters bade me. Heed my warning or no, it matters not. I look forward to a world without the golden one's vigilance. Come visit me when the world is anew." He bows, and retreats.

Suddenly, you're a knife. Oh dear.

You are grasped firmly by... oh Maidens.

...

Ozora, Prosus, and Itto

You find yourself... altered.

On your red pommel is a short prayer strip. You are held by what appears to be Mars, Maiden of War.

In the other hand is a knife with a purple design, also with a prayer strip. She grips this tightly, reverses it, and offers it up to a Dragonblood.

This is surreal.

...

"This is my wife." He points to the Fae changing shapes rapidly. "She is not the most stable of us."

"I'm less crazy then you, you creation-touched buffoon!"

"Point taken. And this... is my other wife. She guards the first one."

The guard stiffly *ahems*. She is not conducive to telling you the whys.

"There was a message... oh, yes. This is important. Enough to bother you on Calibration and waste my time babysitting her." She frowns. He folds out a long piece of paper. "The Declaration of the East Court: We Have Accepted the Asylum of the Eclipse Caste, Who Shall Shalt Be Referred As The Exalt Therein; As the Treaties Have Signed Ages Ago, We Shalt Uphold Them. No Fae or Other Being Will Entreat Their Harm While Under Our Custody." He sits up and smiles. "That's it. That's what I'm supposed to say to him. I suppose Secret over there told you the non-message already, did he? Then we can leave."

Britter

2012-02-01, 10:16 PM

Itto

His consciousness embraces the sword-nature of what he is. This is the purest expression of Mars, of battle. He no longer strives to cut or to avoid being cut. He is now a thing that cuts, a perfectly balanced ribbon of steel. He has no desires or hopes, no fears or worries. He is free from thought, free from concern, free even from having to act. He waits, poised, light in the hand, prepared to be used to his ultimate purpose - to cut deep and drink the life-blood of the foe.

Ifni

2012-02-01, 11:11 PM

Sitala:

Sitala nods politely in response to the introductions, but at the question she shrugs, feigning disinterest. The pose isn't very convincing - perhaps intentionally so? "Well, since there wasn't a message, he didn't tell me. Clearly." She grins at the Fae, and then sighs theatrically. "Although you did get distracted there, my Secret, and thus... there did seem to be rather less absence of message, than one might have hoped."

And as if the implications of the truncated revelation weren't bad enough, there's the other warning: a Solar taking refuge with the Fae. Clever of the unnamed Eclipse, to hide beyond the Loom's reach. Within her mind, she sets the words running in a repeating loop, trying to burn them into her memory. It would be most inconvenient to forget this information on waking.

Of course, she may not be the only Creation-born who heard it. Two can keep a secret, if one of them is dead... she smiles coolly at the man. Her voice is sweet and curious.

"And who might you be? Figment? Fae? Fellow-dreamer?"

vegetalss4

2012-02-02, 08:43 AM

Ozora

With an open handed gesture I gently refuse the offer of the knife.
My reason is very simple. Namely that my knowledge of knife-fighting ends at "sharp end goes in the other guy".
Given that I already is out of my element, I have no intention of handicapping myself further.

Orosboru

2012-02-05, 02:22 AM

Ozora

Mars nods.

In a flash of motion, she slays your demons of apathy and ignorance, her elegant blades parting away doubt and uncertainty. It is harrowing, but it is also... comforting.

She bows. She takes off her helm

And gives you a kiss.

You wake up.

...

Prorsus & Itto

You slide through a concept. And then another.

You wake up.

Sitala and Sarin

"He's a real person, mind you. I would watch yourself. Mortals aren't good at this kind of fighting." The fae man stands up. "Hey, what's that? Gah-

The fae are washed away in a surge of yellow light. Sitala sees a apology on the man's back. He stands at the shore of a beach. He is tall. He is ashen.
"I am here, Scion of Gaia." He says. "Destiny has chosen you for a greater task. But first-"

You wake up.

Sarin
"-let us have some privacy." He finishes. "I know that this must be a traumatic night, but I am a Vizer. You can trust me."