The Doom That Came To Lookshy

[Krimm_Blackleaf]

The Carnifex stepped forward, dread contemplation now easily etched into his essence-mutated face and all three of his black arms up and out slightly. His eyes still had a knack for being over-large and over-widened, especially as he spoke and despite the eyelids that now bordered the spheres in his head. "Then perhaps you are best not left to yourself in such a task, O' dearest Midnight. If you were to do that, I believe it in all our best interest if the Circle were to keep an eye on things." He paused for a moment, in his familiar expression of contemplation, "I am even leaving behind my most glorious crimson spray, should the fact sway you in my favor."

[Naquadah]

"Some disguised, some not. Even better, start out not, stay in the public slums, then work our way in! Only problem...we won't get any Essence. Not without drinking..." He ponders. "To get a legal pass, you need to have certain business. Foreign merchants and guests are always restricted...you'll always need to be a native or a permanent merc to get past the public zones. As to representation...we could always be trying to buy supplies for Thorns. Grain, alcohol, and the like. It should get us in the front gate, if nothing else. But likely they would keep eyes on us at all times if we admitted to being from Thorns."

He blinks and his eyes light up as he looks around. "Carnifax...what did you end up doing with the god's body?"

[AmberVael]

Sable sighs at her circle.
"In what capacity would you be joining me, Carnifex?"
She looks at Kohl and shakes her head.
"You have entirely too little imagination. Grain alcohol? I am no petty merchant. I am a death knight, a servant of the void in the employ of our lord, and while I will not be entirely... accurate in my presentation of myself, I will not lessen the impact that my status should have. I intend to enter as a social and political combatant on par with any other representative of a great power. I may end up as a target of hate, with eyes and distrust laid upon me, but they will not turn me away, I think."
A smirk crosses her face.
"Well, they might. But would they pass up the chance to learn what is occurring? I doubt it... and I'd be entering their place of strength. They have little reason to fear me specifically, and I will not be issuing demands. I do need to think of a way to deflect suspicion- or at least reaction- to me being a spy, however."

[Naquadah]

"Hmm. Certainly Sable, I do not intend that all of us pursue th same method for infiltration. We shall more easily succeed if we all have our own story to tell. A merchant, a priest, a whore looking for work...all work equally well, all get us within the main gates. Less suspicion drawn to us one for one, than all together."

He considers her words about what she would do. "Here is an idea for you. Immaculate philosophers of Lookshy are eager to engage in religious debate. You'll find their beliefs on their world similar to the Realm's Order, but markedly different. That is always an angle to pursue."

[GryffonDurime]

"I see now why you are called deathknights," Mulberry mulls, "you do not kill, you do not maim. You simply talk until your foe is dead of age. I'm going now, Carnifex. Do try not to make too much of a mess of the city just yet."

With that, Mulberry throws open the shudders of the nearest window and leaps out: one instant a falling woman, the next a rising kestrel. She revels briefly in the power of her new wings, riding the updrafts with an easy heart. Lookshy unfurls before her like a banner, and Mulberry descends upon the city, watching with her stolen eyes.

[Naquadah]

Kohl rolls his eyes as Mulberry departs, and continues walking. "Ever the bird, flitting off without a plan. And ever the snakes, following and scheming." He sighs. "Let us talk and walk, my Circle-mates. Let us have a plan by the time we are within eyeshot of the walls, and execute it. We should meet up inside, and if Mulberry still lives, attempt to contact her and proceed. And we must needs figure out goals for this excursion. What information do we seek? What sabotage do we wish to bring? Will sweet Death claim any of Lookshy's stalwart yet foolish defenders? Et cetera..."

[Krimm_Blackleaf]

"Let the silk-moth be off, we are cursed with legs that see full use." He lets out what could be either a roar or a sigh, and begins walking. "Come." As he leaves, he puts the hood up over his head, takes a pair of brown leather gauntlets to put over his unusual arms and instructs his Gears to keep a watch on the defenses and most of all, Chaya.
The Circle begins to walk out of the borders of the Shadowlands with even the dim sunlight baring down on them once they reach the border, the Sun sinking in the west and the welcoming darkness approaching from the east, marred only by the stars. Before them stands Lookshy, a city-state-fortress just waiting to be bitten and have the life drained from it. The Carnifex approaches the massive Jade gates that stand before them.

[The Demented One]

The fortified city walls of Lookshy are a marvel of architecture from the Era of Dreams, a patchwork of indestructible First Age alloys reinforced with brick and mortar where they have fallen to age and misuse. Each gateway is overhung by a canopy of jade sculpted into a set of draconic jaws, manned by a pair of enlightened mortals in powered armor. They brandish force pikes as you draw near, essence weapons still maintained and operational, their puissance perhaps enough to match any of yours. Both women watch you approach closely, tightly-knotted braids of hair drifting in the wind off the Inland Sea.

"Welcome to Lookshy, travelers." speaks the taller of the pair, an amber-skinned women of obviously Dragon-Blooded descent. "Declare your arms to us and speak what cause you have for entrance, and you will be admitted into the Outer City." Her companion, a darker-skinned woman whose leaf-green hair obscures her eyes, remains silent, training her force pike on Carnifex, whose cloak does much to arouse her suspicions.

[AmberVael]

Sable, meanwhile, has arrived separately from her circle- at least, separately from those who do not wish to join in her somewhat audacious plot. Realizing that showing up alone and attempting a grand entrance would fail quite miserably, she opted to actually bring a few of her recently created skeletons- wisely cloaking them heavily in concealing robes, and otherwise preventing their real appearance from being at least blatant. Someone might know that they're undead, but that would be quite different from seeing that they are.

With a small procession in tow (a simple decet of heavily cloaked skeletons), Sable sweeps confidently towards the gate- and presumably when halted, she speaks openly, with smooth, unwavering words.

"I come as a representative of the Lord of Thorns. I request an audience with someone suitable for my station, that I might elaborate on my presence here."

[The Demented One]

The well-clad sentinels exchange a brief glance, uncertain how to react. The night of horrors that toppled Thorns is legend and nightmare throughout all Creation, and none have not heard of the monstrosities said to serve the Mask of Winters. And yet Sable's words are backed with iron confidence, a surety of command that reaches down into the pitiful mortal minds of the guards and seizes the strings of their subconscious. "You...you may enter." speaks the foremost guard. "I will call your escort, of course. You will be taken to speak with the appropriate personnel. Do not leave your escort, do not draw arms, do not so much as spend the least mote." she speaks, harsher than it is wise to address one of the Abyssal Exalted.

She draws down on a hempen cord that coils back into a recess within the wall, tolling a clarion. By the time she opens the gates to you, a phalanx of guards–mortal sentinels with power armor and essence weaponry, led by a handful of Terrestrial Exalted–has formed behind them. The gateway sentry briefly explains your arrival to the foremost Dragon-Blood, and his eyes flash red for a moment. Finally, though, he bids you enter. "Deathknights. Are you so bold as to stride openly into Lookshy? To come in the name of that unspeakable monster? Very well, then. Lookshy honors the accords of peace and diplomacy, Lookshy is a civilized nation. Come with me. You will be given a meeting in the embassies of the General Staff, you will be given the audience you seek. And if you reject the accords of peace, if you prove yourselves the monsters of a monster, then the entire Seventh Legion will come down upon you. Thorns was weak. We are not. Come."

[AmberVael]

Sable bows formally and politely to the dragon-blooded who addressed her, not returning any of his apparently raw emotions.
"I thank you for the hospitality you display, even in the face of that you find reason to despise. I promise you that I will not give you cause to regret it."

She has adopted a cordial manner, and gives a snap of her fingers that signals to her minions to arrange themselves so that they are interspersed with her escort - leaving them close at hand, but easily watched over by the guardians of Lookshy. No need to spook her hosts, after all... well, except maybe a little.

"Might I have your name, soldier?"
The deathknight asks of the dragon-blood, a hint of curiosity in her voice.

[The Demented One]

"Of course, ambassador. Karal Da Shan, Gunchei of the Home Guard. I will not bore you with the details of my lineage or service, nor will I ask your own names." His curtness makes no attempt to belie obvious contempt, and it is only with visible effort that he restrains the hatred that would burn within his eyes. He leads you through the grid of wide roads, lanes of solid stone construction, frequently interrupted by sturdy wooden archways that bridge the many rivers and rivulets that cut through Lookshy. The outer ring of the city is of low stone, its buildings unimpressive yet utterly utilitarian. The rim that demarcates the border between outer and inner city is the usual terminus of any outsider's journey, but the Home Guard Commander leads you further still, through the gatehouses of Lookshy's inner walls and into the Upper City.

"The Fourth Ring Of Lookshy, the Foreign Quarter." announces the Dragon-Blood as you step out into the district cramped with watchtowers, temples, and merchant shops. He speaks the same introduction as you pass into the Third Ring, and finally the Second Ring, the only words he speaks. It is within the Second Ring of Lookshy that you find your destination, a small office on the outermost fringe of the quarter. Loathe as he is to even allow your entrance into the Upper City, Da Shan would sooner disembowel himself than let you any closer to the war-city's heart than necessity bids. He bids the five of you–or rather, those of the five who let themselves be seen–enter a squat and unimportant-seeming building hewn of grey stone, a minor administrative organ of the Liaison Directorate. "Enter in your own time, ambassadors. My unit will remain stationed here to retrieve you once negotiations have been concluded. Present yourselves to the staff secretary, and your audience will be granted."

[Naquadah]

Kohl walks, robed along with the skeletons, wearing a simple wooden mask about his face. He smirks at Sable's ploy to get them within the walls...surely Mulberry is within already, but he knows she does not know this city. And none of them really know what they are looking for. His eyes flit back and forth to the guards, and several times he subtly switches places with other members of Sable's procession until he is on one of the edges, closest among the mortals and far away from the Dragon-Blooded, amid a small cluster of Sable's entourage.

He does not care to enter the building, does not care to listen...not from the inside, at least. His eyes take in every shadow, explore every tiny rivulet where light dies not exist. In the bustle of separating entourage from the interspersed guard unit, he prepares to secret himself in one of these shadowy hollows and begin exploring the city he was once enslaved in.

[Krimm_Blackleaf]

The Carnifex took all his will and strength to keep his third arm held tightly against his back under his heavy robes and to keep himself from gutting the lead guardsman with the razors that were hidden so well within his hand. He knew the contempt he feels burning into him from the Terrestrial host would have been rained upon him tenfold by his Circle should he remove said host. The most he can do is forget the newfound muscles in his face(leaving him looking a bit more harrowing than any of the masked dead) and be gracious.
"We thank you, lords and ladies of Lookshy." He said only, and followed his Circle.

[GryffonDurime]

Mulberry departs from the company of her circle as some of them enter: she has watched them from rafters and rooftops, her kestrel form peeking out over eaves and arches.

She flutters away, further and further into Lookshy's holiest of holies, searching for a target of seemingly obvious importance, unimpeachable credentials--and most importantly of all, someone of solitude. It can't be a Terrestrial; for all her might, Mulberry knows the limits of her subtlety and the assassination of a Dragon-Blooded will surely draw attention. She soars over the First Quarter, dipping low to the ground when she thinks she spots an older patrician or some other figure of interest. Her talons hold tightly to tiled rooftops as she lowers herself down, down. Mortals fail to notice the inoffensive comings and goings of beasts.

Spoiler

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Perception + Investigation
(5d10)[5][8][5][10][3](31)

[AmberVael]

Sable inclines her head to Karal Da Shan.
"Your vigilance will not go unnoticed. I commend you for you assistance and duty."

She says, acting almost oblivious to his contempt- or perhaps, noting it, and regarding him more highly for doing his duty and holding to his codes despite it. Still, she does not spend any more time on him, but instead proceeds into the designated building, keeping a discreet eye out for anyone who might follow or watch them, and just to examine the building itself. It doesn't quite seem a suitable place for someone of her claimed status, but then again, she was a hated enemy... to enter at all was a triumph.

[Naquadah]

As Sable enters and her entourage begins to clumsily disentangle itself from the guard unit, one of the skeletons finds itself tripping toward a guard. In the ensuing confusion and apologies, a shadow flits between group and building, darting behind the backs of the mortal guards and visible only for a heartbeat, before it's gone and melded into the darkness cloaking the entire area.

Spoiler

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Since I forgot to do it before, here's my Stealth roll. My plan is to use the confusion of separating the guard unit from the envoys that one person could slip between a couple of robes and into one of the building's shadows in the blink of an eye, where nobody can really see it. And if I'm spotted, my excuse is that I tripped while going to look for the head.
(10d10)[4][3][4][3][10][6][2][7][6][2](47)

[The Demented One]

Entering the Liaison sub-office's main hall, you find it a bleak spartan building. Unadorned walls of grey stone are the default, their only decorations they official notices and procedural protocols posted on corkwood slats. As you arrive, a mortal dressed in secretarial saffron comes to retrieve you, wordlessly leading you through the halls of the building. He comes to a huge redwood door, twice the size of a man, and lifts an iron rod from a well-polished rack on the wall. He pushes the door open with the metal rod, and bids you enter. The conference hall is just as sparse as the rest of the office, dominated by a massive pentagonal table. At its far side sits one of Lookshy's ambassadors, a Dragon-Blood whose hatred is only revealed by the drumbeat of her fingers on the table's mirrored surface.

"Greetings, ambassadors. I am told that Thorns wishes to enter into diplomatic relations, no? Unbelievable, but nevertheless, it falls to me to conduct official negotiations. I'm sure the Home Guard captains have already given you enough of threats and saber-rattling, so let us dispense with that. We both know what happens if you raise arms within this city. Now, why have you come here to negotiate? What terms do you seek?" The diplomat's tone speaks to just how much credence he gives Sable's ruse, while the grand daiklave that lies on the table before him is the threat he does not bother to speak.

While Sable, Carnifex, and Grim sit down to negotiate, Kohl stalks through the shadows that hang low beneath the buildings, having slipped away from the guard regiment. For all that he remains unseen, the circumstances are against him–outside of the clinging shade he creeps through, the sunlight burns brightly, and the people of Lookshy bustle and crowd with more eyes than he can hope to hide from forever. But for so long as he keeps to the beshadowed alleyways that run between these minor offices, he is all but invisible.

Mulberry, on the other hand, flies through the open sunlight, seen but not recognized for what she truly is. Soaring into the First Ring of Lookshy, she spots a figure whose ornaments and treasures speak to some high rank–he is clad in flowing robes sculpted from essence itself, and followed by a living construct, what seems a woman of moonsilver and black jade. He makes no glances skyward, not even noticing the kestrel soaring innocently overhead as he hastens towards the Aviary, the dry dock of Lookshy's aerial fleet.

[WhiteKnight777]

Grim

Grim laughed, the bells on his motley jangling softly "Why does the night come? Why do shadows fall? Why do bellies rumble and men die, and why does the cold wind blow? All things come in time, aye, aye, all things and no things, that be the way of the world."

[AmberVael]

The necromancer and voice of the void smiles gently, sliding forward into a chair as she dons the most graceful and proper manners, adopting a tone which is smooth and genuine. She seeks to relax and flatter, to lie without ever letting untruth slip from her lips.

"While your guards clearly did not like our presence, they did their job well. I am aware that we have developed a... less than pleasant reputation," Sable says delicately, "And so I am pleased enough to have been allowed entrance and come this far unmolested, if not unquestioned."

"I do not come here as a representative for Thorns, exactly, but as a representative of its lord. Nor do I come to dictate terms- I have more respect for the people of Lookshy than to believe they would cow before demands. There is no army at my back, or threat looming behind me besides horrific tales which have spread about my kind."

Sable spreads her hands to gesture openly, symbolically presenting sincerity and an open nature.
"It is because of these thoughts that I have come, ambassador. Tales of terror and monsters are all that are known of us, and our army is one of the few things that has been seen. There are those who are afraid of us, and those who hate us without ever learning more than hearing vague stories that have passed from mouth to mouth.
"Lookshy knows how stories can be spun falsely. You have been slandered and thought backwards, but every man, woman, and child in Lookshy knows the triumphs and grand nature of their home. Lies and propaganda- deceit and unfortunate circumstances- lead people to despise and disparage others without cause or evidence."

Smiling confidently, and hopefully, Sable presents her words logically and reasonably, with good faith that is hard to ignore.
"And that is why I have come. I know what is told of us, and it pains me to hear it. I know this is not the way I am, and while I cannot speak for everyone- for there are differences among every group of people- I can show myself, and demonstrate my nature and beliefs, and show that what is taught about us is unjust. I do not ask for anything other than the chance to present myself and let others draw their own conclusions, rather than learn from horror stories and rumors.
"You have been kind and gracious enough to let me come here, and acted with reason and fairness this far. All I ask is for this one request- to let me remain here for a time, and let me show the truth of who our people really are."

After that, she glances at Grim and gives a small, almost sad sigh and smile to the ambassador.
"Please forgive my friend, he is not... quite right of mind."

[Naquadah]

Kohl stalks the shadowed alleys, looking for a certain type of person. A scullery maid for a Gens out on an errand, perhaps, or a group of young mortal soldiers still too green to see trouble when it looks at them. He will wait for some such person to pass near the mouth of an alley, and then he will strike.

[The Demented One]

The diplomat is taken aback by Sable's open and respectful address, enough so to disregard Grim's cryptic chatter. She off-handedly removes the daiklave from the table, sheathing it at her side. "You embarrass me, ambassador. It is so easy to see the lies spoken against one's people, and yet to never question those spoken of others. I know what happened at Thorns, but surely you cannot be judged solely for that. Forgive my prejudices, and let us speak on amiable terms. My name is Amilar Zhou."

[AmberVael]

A bit of tension goes out of Sable, and she smiles more openly, quite relieved that she wasn't going to have an army after her.
"I do not fault you, nor your people. It has become quite pervasive, and I do admit that there are some who do not really promote our best side..."

Her eyes flick to Grim a little obviously- but she counts on him appearing a little harmless, if odd, to prevent any bad assumptions from being made.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Ambassador Zhou. According to the customs of my kind, I have given up my name, but others know me as Sable Scion."

[Krimm_Blackleaf]

The Hollow Carnifex watches the Lookshy woman before him with contempt hidden behind blankness. His gaze is, at best, unnerving but that's to be expected from supposed Thorns natives. "I have followed this same tradition and have forsaken my name. I would prefer to be referred to by my profession. You may call me the Doctor." Despite every fiber of his body and soul screaming at him in protest, he speaks civilly and without note of threat in his gravelly voice.

[The Demented One]

Amilar Zhou attempts to smile, despite her still-lingering misgivings. For all she makes of friendship, the unease on her face is obvious, if dwindling. "You forake your names? An interesting custom, I can scarcely conceive of it. How do you know your lineage, your families? Oh, but I prattle on. Perhaps we might best begin with the Fall of Thorns? Let me put from my mind what I have heard of that night, that you might understand what it was to you? The General Staff understands your lord, the Mask of Winters, to intend nothing less than absolute aggression against the nations of the Scavenger Lands. Is this not so?"

[AmberVael]

"We have great communion with those who have passed on." Sable begins, using the more indirect method of referring to the dead in order to lighten impact of the implication of it. "Those who have experienced this begin to learn what fleeting things names really are. Creation witnesses hundreds of names for the same things, even at the same time. It is only sensible that names would have less value to us."

She smiles in a friendly matter, and then shakes her head at the impression of the Mask of Winters.
"It is unfortunate that our first real contact with these lands was aggressive. It has left the wrong impressions, no matter the intention. However, there is no one better to answer this question than I... because I was there when it happened."

The necromancer lets this statement hang dramatically for a moment, smiling a little comfortingly.
"I was not among the servants of the Mask of Winters at the time- in fact, I was wholly unaware of his existence. Thorns was my home..."
Her expression belies the fact that despite it being home, it was nowhere near comforting to her.
"Our city had become increasingly corrupt. While it had become great, it began to hold its weight on those who could not support it, while degrading the very people who made it all possible. We were in steep decline, and those in power only hurried that decline with their decadence and ruthless greed."

Having painted this ugly picture, Sable's expression changes, a small smile appearing there. It is not a kind smile, but perhaps that is to be expected, considering the topic.
"Into this scene came the Mask of Winters."

She shifts back, trying to become a little more dispassionate and objective.
"His methods overpowered the city, and were, perhaps, too potent; however, he swiftly cleansed the city of its flawed and rotten system. Perhaps he could be considered a vigilante, but there is not a single doubt in my mind that what he did was justice. In my life at Thorns, I was one of those who was oppressed and downtrodden so that the rest might rise high. I worked thanklessly and profited not at all from it- so I do not deny that I found grim satisfaction in the things that occurred that day.

"But I want to impress on you that what occurred there was no vicious, conquering slaughter, but a cleansing. If a limb rots and decays, do you leave it alone, or attempt to cure it with herbs? No, it must be amputated. It is uncomfortable, but cannot be denied. So it was with Thorns."

Sable's words are dark, but certain, and invoke justice and duty- something that the soldiers of Lookshy should be quite familiar with. This was the sort of thing a soldier must learn. Yes, you do a grim deed, but it cannot be shirked or avoided.

"We are unfortunately uncommon, but Thorns is not entirely unrepresented. I believe a representative addressed the Council of the Concordant? You will find that he said many of the same things that I did, though unfortunately he was too accusatory of others. Still, I can only imagine his reactions to what he had heard. I cannot find it in myself to wholly blame him for his words.

"The Mask of Winters does not desire conquest, but seeks to spread order and justice where it must be spread. It is unfortunate the methods we must sometimes turn to, but the cause is just, and we must not let uncomfortable necessities turn us away from what is right."

[Naquadah]

Minutes begin to pass. Kohl's eyes bore straight ahead, watching everyone who crosses in front of the alley. His eyes rake across maids, messengers, young soldiers walking to and fro, til they finally settle. The uniformed man coming this way is walking unsteadily, listing a bit. From here, Kohl can smell the aroma of alcohol wafting off of him. He wears the bars of an adjutant of some sort. Kohl gives him the once-over; no elemental markings, and he's carrying a travel badge. Perfect.

As the young man passes the alley, it is simplicity itself for Kohl to mimic the voice of a young woman, enticing him into the alley. Drunk and muddled, the youth complies with the ruse. A short conversation ensures, where Kohl expertly gropes his prey, crooning, obtaining his name, rank, command, everything important. And moments later, there is nary a sound to be heard save the slight scraping of a barrel moments later. Then Kohl appears, straightening the uniform and tucking his silken armor in underneath, wiping the last drops of blood onto a handkerchief, retracting his fangs and deciding on his next course of action.

[The Demented One]

"I see. I fear that is quite a contrast to what most of Lookshy would think of the Lord of Thorns, as he styles himself. The General Staff has become convinced from past diplomatic dealings that any alliance or mutual non-aggression with him would be impossible." Zhou speaks frankly, discussing a number of failed diplomatic ventures. Knowing what you do of your master, you are not particularly surprised by any of them. "And yet, it is to our advantage to negotiate a peace. Tell me, ambassadors, what authority has been invested in you with regards to this meeting? While I cannot commence treaty negotiations myself, of course, I can arrange for a diplomatic summit between you and the suitable officials within the Liaison Directorate, if the Mask of Winters has given you leave to speak for him."

Elsewhere, Kohl expertly disposes of Nitei Gunzel of the Home Guard, breaking through skin and jugular and spine with one solid bite. Dressed in the uniform of the soldier whose corpse now lies limp in the gutters, he strides out into broad sunlight, his uniform and papers all in order. And across the city's walls, Mulberry follows her current mark past the gates of Lookshy's famed Aviary, changing back to her silkmoth shape as she flutters into a dock filled with magitech skyships, wonders unheard of throughout the rest of Creation. As she hovers in midair, the Dragon-Blood berates the crew of sorcerer-engineers maintaining the vessels, castigating them for their failures with something called the Skywolf.

[AmberVael]

"My lord has given me full authority to negotiate with Lookshy as I will."
Sable says, with complete honesty.
"In the end, he only desires that there be peace."

Through the complete dismantling of Lookshy as it is, of course, but no need to bring up how drastic his goals are yet. Besides, Sable sees little reason why she can't do that peacefully... after all, if she can get Lookshy to go willingly to its grave, then all the more glory to the Void and its Neverborn heralds.

[Krimm_Blackleaf]

"Ahem." The Carnifex finally speaks up after many moments of silence between the two. "I would also like to make an offer, if our gracious host would be willing to listen." He says, gesturing slowly to the Terrestrial on the other side of the table. "Oh behalf of the artisans of Thorns, I would like to express an offer of trade to this city, so full of technology. My trade outside of surgery is in fact, of craftsmanship. My specialty in such a field... is the stitching of necrotic flesh to artificial materials to create quick, efficient models. Perhaps this interests you..."