Oasis is Hell - Exalted 2ed - IC

[Gargulec]

Tomescu howls echoed through the Demon-City, the sharp cries of a creatures understanding their doom momentarily flooding the streets, drowning all other many sounds of Malfeas for an instant. And then, as suddenly as they begun, they were cut in half, and usual clangour of this dammed realm surfaced again.

A new day has dawned over the realm of the fallen Titans.

Silver and Gold Span the Infernal Heaven
Punch, Oriasta, Fury

Just outside the rice-fields, on a patch of ground bordering the brazen floor of the Creation-born occupied layers, a small shrine to the Celestial Incarnae stood, a pitiful and tiny thing: little more than a single pillar adorned with a platform with the statues of the Sun, Moon and Fates. Usually, but a few candles stood there, and only rarely would people come here to offer thanks and prayers to the architects of the Primordial War.

But today, it was different, for today, at this shrine, at the very edge of hospitable lands in Oasis, a marriage was to take place, a marriage between Celestial Exalts.

A Celestial wedding - a poor choice of words to describe what was about to happen... for such words bring connotations with ceremonies so grand and majestic that they would put most of what happened during the Second Age to shame, feasts grand enough to sate Metagaos and extravagances eclipsing even the boundless imagination of the Fair Folk

Here, the ceremony had to be simple, humble. Few guests, and a feast that could only be described as meagre. Only decoration were sapphire ribbons hung from the top of the shrine, scribed with prayers, but even the malicious light of the Green Sun could not mar the joy they heralded.

The bride, a young Lunar named Min, clad in an elegant, if slightly a bit too form-fitting robe embroidered with moonsilver - a gift from one of the Elders - nervously squeezing the hand of her Solar Mate, looking around with those big, azure eyes of her. She was a pretty sight to look at, a girl barely grown, dainty and slender, her body adorned with an intricate, mesmerizing pattern of a traditional Lunar tattoo freshly bestowed, and the fact that she appeared a little bit overwhelmed by the event only added to her charm.

The guests were already gathered as well: though there was no sign of the families, sadly. They were left behind, with so many other people... but there was little point in thinking of them now. Only Min's older sister, a women so similar to her that if not for the tattoos, they would be almost impossible to tell apart made it to Malfeas. Apart from her, a few others attended: a goddess of fertility, a Lunar representative of the Silver Pact, a score or maybe more of close friends... and, of course, standing there with a serene smile on her face that did not find a reflection in a bottomless cerulean eyes, so beautiful that she slipped words and imaginations, seeming so unreal that she just had to be true, for no mind could dream such perfection, she, the Maiden of Serenity.

So maybe there was something exquisite about this wedding after all, for since the fall of the Age of Glory, not even the most exemplar of the Celestial Host could receive the blessing from her own hands. But the times changed, and so many had died, and maybe now you were all closer than then, much, much closer.

Orbs and Collars

Jania, Artificer, Bartrand

Arianna's forge was hardly impressing: a furnace, anvil, a few boxes of tools kept in an immaculate order, a trapdoor leading to storage. Nothing special, nothing extraordinary. For Creation standards, that is. For in Oasis, such establishment was a dream of many.

Through the ajar door, an emerald radiance seeped inside, mingling with the reddish glow of the furnace and a fiery mane of a flame duck chained to it with a short chain and a solid manacle around the elemental's ankle - most likely to be used as a convenient source of a good flame. A few chairs have been prepared by guests, but only three of them were occupied by a strange mixture of a jade-born artisan, an abyssal that did even bother to conceal what he is and a solar reeking slightly of firedust.

The host herself was present too, her back turned at the guests as she was preparing something - and has been at that for the last half an hour, maybe more. Her once-exquisite robe was not torn and crudely sewn, burned in many places and in a condition that signified that the owner decided to pay no mind at all to her own appearance - a fact further proofed by the state of Arianna's long hair, tied into an inelegant ponytail, literally dotted with stains left by soot. It seemed strange, such lack of self-care, especially compared with the nigh-perfect order that reigned inside of the forge.

The table in front of the guests was left bare, apparently the Twilight did not believe in necessity of provisions for those she invited to witness her "ground-breaking invention".

In the silence, many distinct noises could be picked by one bored enough: the distant rumbling of Malfeas' streets, tormented in their helplessness wails of the demons shaped into the gate separating you from the rest of the Demon-City, burbling of an alchemical apparatus belonging to a former god of sake, now responsible for entire alcohol industry, occupying a small brazen brewery next door...

Of Kites and Flutes

Vania, Isrukam, Tewi, Rose

Demon-City was in carnival, longest and most vicious of all it has witnessed. For the last three months, the city was celebrating. From the day Incarnae bowed their rebellious head, demonkind was ascendant. It has been a while since they could celebrate triumph, but when an occasion appeared, they did not hesitate to do their best. And as each day brought the Callibration closer, the celebrations grew even more crazy, ecstatic and brutal. Blood and liquor ran down the streets and alleys, mixing and feeling Malfeas with this crazy stench that was both disgusting and alluring at the same time.

It was always noisy on the Ligier-lit streets, but never as much as during the last weeks. Bells rang all the time, but their loud tolling could barely rise above the constant song... and song in Malfeas was not only sung, but also screamed and cried.

It almost seemed that all the inhabitants of the city moved to the streets for the last weeks of the carnival, spending all their time in indescribable crowd, loving, celebrating, drinking, murdering each other... it almost seemed that Lypothymie held no sway over them now.

The guide the diplomat party hired, a lithe angylkae had no problems moving through all this celebration, but the same could not be told about the diplomats themselves. They stood out from among the demons, and they seemed to instinctively understand that they were more than mere mortals: yet still those, who were defeated and knelt by the Once and Future Tyrant. The mockeries and jests were almost constant, flying from all directions, and yet from none that could be distinguished. All they could do was to follow their harpist-guide, and so they did.

Through many winding streets they travelled, places obscene and beautiful, and still, when asked about the destination, the angylkae could not even tell when she expects them to arrive. Truth be told, it started to appear that she was herself getting lost, too afraid to admit it to you.

That something went even more wrong became apparent the moment you left another tight, dark alley and emerged on a street that was empty. No trace of demons or of their clangour was to be seen or heard, and the music of the city seemed muffled. And it looked deserted for many, many years now, with mosaics on the brazen walls falling apart, vitriol pooling in the cracks of the basalt pavement ingathered, strange vegetating sprouting from the thin air and tearing into the empty husks of the building, the black vines moving as if they were alive and sentient. There was a certain tension in the air, as if some danger not fully formulated loomed over this street.

And it was not perfectly silent, too. A lone sound - a haunting, bitter melody played on a panflute flowed in the air. The diplomats looked for the musician, raising their heads and noticing.

On a half-collapsed balcony above, a dark-skinned woman was sitting, her legs hanging in the air. She was naked, barring an impossible number of little chimes and charms dangling from her neck, ankles, wrists, looking almost indistinguishably from her long, braided hair with brazen bells woven into the black braids. She was beautiful, too, but in an uneasy, predatory way. Her eyes were narrowed, tracing your each move in preparation for a strike, and you could almost hear an non-existent drum calling to the ritual hunt - in she was to be the hunter.

Slowly, she moved the panflute from her lips, and put it to her side, next to a pair of curved, silvery blades.

'I hope that you were worth the hassle' she said, her voice calling forth an images of a dry, desert wind.

[Volthawk]

Fury stands to one side, at the moment in his human form, clad in a thick suit of moonsilver plate. He was under strict instructions from the other Lunars to stay out of the warform for the wedding - it wasn't a particularly friendly form, as far as they were concerned - so here was one of the rare times he was in his human form.

Although he is paying attention to the wedding, periodically he looks around from his position to survey the area around the shrine. He was feeling somewhat responsible for anything that could go wrong here - after all, he was representing the Silver Pact here - so he was keeping an eye out for anyone that could cause trouble.

[MrPrim]

Silver and Gold Span the Infernal Heaven

Clad in a gown of clinging, sheer green gossamer, Oriasta, the Fallen Orchid, Goddess of Fertility, sat amongst the guests of this unprecedented matrimony. Her mane of red, vine-like hair was tied up, blue and white flowers erupting around the bun, and tiny baby’s breath blossoms bloomed and shimmered on her cheeks.

Of course, she’d had to get instructions on all of this. One of her bureaucratic neighbors in her new home had explained the procedures and formalities. Academically, of course, she was aware of weddings – but she wasn’t usually invited to them. It all seemed faily… silly… no, not silly… inefficient; a strange way to dress up the basic procreative act – the one that she now represented. Flowers did not get married, nor did trees, or bears, or most other things. But men, Exalts, and their ilk chose to mark their days with such things. She would probably have to get used to them.

As the bride came into view, Oriasta smiled. She was so young and lovely and full of life. In the deity’s eyes, the young Lunar practically glowed, for no beings are quite so fertile as the chosen of Luna. Soon, the Oasis would ring with the squeals of new life, of that the goddess was certain.

And then Venus appeared.

Oriasta trembled like a leaf in the wind as she glanced up at the Incarnae who stood before the assemblage. Even as one of the least of those hallowed beings, the sheer presence of Venus hammered on Oriasta’s being. While the mortals and Exalts in attendance felt her power and her pull, it was nothing compared to the profound effect that Venus had on her subordinate. Fighting a compulsion to prostrate herself before the Maiden of Serenity, Oriasta merely averted her eyes demurely as she waited for the groom to arrive.

[AmberVael]

Of Kites and Flutes

Vana has very little care that they are lost, and the jeers and mockery of the demons only provoke a grin. They acknowledged her with their words. The teachings of her house- albeit inadvertent ones- taught her that there was often as much power to infamy as there was fame. All publicity was good, in its own way. Besides, all of these demons, ultimately, were beneath her, the crowd flocking to her stage, and if she willed it, she could compel them into her eternal service. They might mock her now, but in time, just a little time, their voice would change, whether to fear or adoration.

Though she fails to question their guide's directions, Vana asks a steady stream of questions about the realm she has found herself in- queries on the nature of particularly striking demons and buildings they pass, the sources of various music, and inspiration for the dances she sees.

Yet, her interest turns to concern when they arrive in a quieter, more broken streets, and when the mournful flute begins to play, her suspicion and tension rises. As their path comes to its end, before the flute player, her suspicions are realized, and her mind races, then comes to its conclusion.

"Zsofika. An honor to meet the tireless hunter." The entertainer says, with a flourishing bow. Each movement makes the fabric of her dress swirl and unfurl, and Vana's fan leaps to her hand, opening smoothly. "Your music is more exquisite than the tales had led me to believe." The fan shuts with a quiet click, then expands again, but in the opposite direction.

"Silver fanged serpent, woven with countless bells, what matter brings us together?" Like a bird of prey testing her wings, Vana flicks her fan back and forth, dress swirling and shifting as she keeps her eyes on Zsofika, not backing away like prey, but measuring the huntress in return.

Crack! The fan unfolds once more, but with sudden intensity. The sound of it unfurling is startlingly loud in the empty streets, and this time, the blades of Vana's cloth show clear, five gleaming points extending from the crimson cloth before it whisks away, folded again. "Is our presence interfering with your hunt?" The magician asks with dangerous politeness- a predator in another's territory, but no less a predator.

[Odd_Canuck]

Punch rechecks everything for the fifth time that day... this day has to be as perfect as possible for his Little Nibbles. After all, you generally only get married once in a lifetime, so make it as grand as you can.

The food is ready to be moved out as soon as the ceremony starts... Although it's rather lackluster fair, you wouldn't know it... a cake rises high, even if it's a rather nutty and solid pound cake. The small gifts for each of the guests are completed, and they are small... most commonly being merely personalized sets of tinned copper dishes, although some speak more to the nature of the receiver such as a tiny box of seeds for Oriasta, the matched tonfa decorated with clawspeak patterns of thanks for Fury and the scrolls of new hymn praise music for the presiding Incarnate. Being sensible, generic ones have also been created, since unplanned guests always turn up. Being Hell, the bar is already open and serving... one of the precious few advantages of life in Hell, is there's never a shortage of alcohol. Granted, much of it needs to be reworked for taste, but at least it makes celebrating in harsh times easier, and it's fairly easy to distill into something more palatable.

This life just keeps looking up. Granted losing Creation was a huge blow to everyone, but his own life is on the upswing. Freedom. Becoming Exalted. Finding someone who loves him and he in turn can love. Even his job going into Hell itself and building demesnes and manses for demons is better than his old one. And now he's getting married.

Confident that the preparations are in hand and everything is ready to go ahead, Punch heads out, briefly mingles with the crowd (which in his case involves standing still for a moment and nodding at something someone says) and finally makes his way to the Incarnate herself and with a nod of the head and a grumbled "Ready."

[Flare]

Rose, her face a mask and half covered by the blue hair, casually ignored the jests and insults of the demons as they made their way through the carnival. It was hard, to move through the massive amount of demons milling in the street, given the weapon on her hip and the grimore on her other.

It jangled in it's chains, that evil book, but it was under such heavy lock and key- and attached firmly to her hip- that it would be incredibly hard to steal it. She kept her hand on it, as well, to further dissuade any attempts to touch it. She made no effort to avoid demons unless they simply would not move, but she made certain that none of them neared the book. Let them touch the blade if they wanted to, but the book was not. Even their insults simply slid off of her, as if she did not hear them. She did not care about what they said- they were unimportant to her unless the were attacking the refugees-, and had much better things to be doing with her time. But she was not a Monster, she reminded herself, she was not.

As they wandered, however, the Dusk did slowly find herself becoming more and more annoyed at the fact the group's guide did not actually know where they were going. The clamoring of the demons were a bit of a pain, due to the closeness, and the blood and alcohol on the streets, and getting pressed between the massive amount of revelers made her fear for losing the book, making her grip it ever closer to her. Despite this, she stayed near the front- or as close as she could- of the travelers, as close to the angylke as she could, unwilling to fall behind and get lost in the Demon City, additionally, she was interested enough in the questioning of the creature that she didn't wish to not hear them, anything to keep her mind off the massive amount of demons.

When they finally reached the empty area, the Abyssal let out a low sigh, finally releasing her death grip on the Grimore, letting it fall back into place at her hip- she had clasped it in her hands after about an hour, unwilling to lose it-. She was wary, but it was for the thing at the end of the street, instead of the random creatures on it that no longer existed. Much better to deal with one creature then a hundred thousand. Brushing her hair out of her face, she checked that Soulbreaker hadn't had any of the ornamentation stolen from it, and, satisfied, clasped her hands in front of her waist- a symbol to show she wasn't planning violence, as she would have to unclasp her hands to reach her weapon- and stood silently near the back, running her finger across the hearthstone amulet attached to the book- filled with a broken stone-. It was a worthless gesture, but one to make her feel better- or worse, depending on how she felt at that time-

"Glad to be in silence." she noted, to no one in particular, but goes silent when someone else addresses the demon. Talking wasn't her strong suit- being shoved in a library with no other contact for 3 years could do that, she supposed-.

[Gargulec]

Silver and Gold Span the Infernal Heaven

Min blushed luminescent red as soon as she put her eyes on Venus, and averted her sight almost immediately. But it was not certain if it was just the beauty that was unbearable for the young lunar. Because there was something more in the face of the Incarna, and more you looked, more you could see that it was sadness and torment as grand as she was powerful and as deep as her visage was breathtaking.

Her dress matched her perfectly, yet there were places were you could see the traces of yellow stains left by the vitriol of the realm. Her nails were coloured and flawless, yet shortened, as to hide the mark of being bitten lately. In her eyes, nations could drown, yet as you looked into them, you could notice how bloodshot and tired they seemed. In the visage of the Maiden of Serenity, your own state was reflected as in a mirror.

They said that of all of you, the Incarnae got hit by the destruction of Creation the worst - because they something more than their world crumble. They saw their grandest, most loved possession and work dissolve, all they stood for fade - and they were powerless about it, and could only blame themselves for the fact that they failed at protecting it: they failed at the task that was their purpose. And now, looking at Venus, you could tell that there was little lie in that claim.

The Maidens of Serenity bowed her head to the both of you, and straightened. The gathered guests went silent immediately, their talks and mingling doused by a sudden wave of peaceful, quiet essence.

'In the days past' she spoke up, her voice barely more raised, yet so clear and vibrant that none of you could possibly have any problems with hearing it 'a long, elaborate ceremony would have followed. But... today, today, here...' her words were coming out slowly, as if she was straining to make each of them sound important, profound - and as if she was barely maintaining the serene demeanour 'the words are not necessary.'

She said no more, just tore a small ribbon from the long sleeve of her sapphire dress, and she gently wrapped it around the clasped hands of the Solar and Lunar, her hands so soft, so delicate, tying it into elaborate bow. No display of magic, no shower of light accompanied it, yet there was a weight in that simple act, a voiceless announcement that in the eyes of heaven, Min and Punch are now one.

'I give you my blessing' she whispered, so that only you would hear. 'And I ask you to remember' she raised her voice again 'that with all its sham' she paused, taking a deep breath 'drudgery, and broken dreams' it seemed that the words did not come easily to her, that there was a struggle behind each of them, a fight fought inside, with demons of own mind 'it is still a beautiful world.'

She lowered her head, as if to inspect the tie as soon as finished speaking, but Min and Punch could see that there was another reason. A tear, as brilliant as a sapphire rolled down from her eye, splattering on the ground with the most quiet sound. But when she raised it again, for a moment, there was serenity back in her gaze.

[Sallera]

Of Kites and Flutes

When he was recruited for a diplomatic mission, Tewi had something slightly different in mind. The festivities were quite pretty from above, and from what they had told him of Amalion, she seemed likely to be a gracious host. Of course, then he was told that three Celestials would also be part of the party, and the Heart couldn't carry four armoured warriors, even if he had thought it wise to confine multiple Solars in close proximity for any extended period of time. So he returned the ship to the Tower, tucked the keystone inside his armour, and joined the others as they set out on foot.

After an hour, he was starting to wish he had just asked if any of them knew how to fly.

It wasn't that he disliked the journey itself. The insults and mockery were unimportant, and he was getting used to weaving through the crowd - it came quite naturally to him. He was as interested as the rest in the answers to the questions this Vana kept asking. But he had rarely worked with a guide as useless as the one they had hired appeared to be. Her increasingly worried demeanour probably meant that she wasn't malicious, just as lost as they were. Still, it was a surprise to emerge onto a street that was actually empty. As he looks over the incongruous desolation, a smile starts to creep onto his face. This place held the promise of something more interesting than usual.

"From what I've heard, silence isn't often something to be glad of, here," he replies to Rose's remark, his voice low despite his words. Although it wasn't actually silent.... Following the music, he tilts his head with a grin as he spots its source, closing one eye and allowing the other to examine the demon from multiple angles as she speaks. She stood out brightly to Essence sight, a clear sign of someone worth meeting, but also someone to be a little warier than usual around. Zsofika, is it? Perhaps I'll listen and learn for a moment.

[oramus]

As their guide leads the group through the labyrinthine streets of Malfeas, Isrukam takes care to stop and make brief conversation with those demons he recognises along the way. Though many of the Creation-born have had trouble differentiating one individual demon from another, he has adapted with relative ease; it is this along with his talent for making other people feel comfortable around him and Cecelyne's interest in him that has earned him his reputation as unusual amongst the denizens of Malfeas. When he converses with his new acquaintances the jeers die down, and when he finishes and moves away there is a bemused silence as the demons consider him.

Looking up, he recognises the same brass archway that they've passed at least once before. He realises their guide is most likely lost, possibly feeling intimidated by her followers. He offers his assistance as best he can give it, attempting to engage her in casual chatter to ease her nerves.

A soft, quavering note draws his attention away from the angylkae; he looks up towards its source. Zsofika, a sub-soul of Adorjan, if his memory serves correctly. He instinctively notices cues which most overlook; subtle tones in her body language and tone of voice, places at which her gaze lingers. What he sees does not encourage him. Something is wrong.

Isrukam attempts to place himself somewhere at the front of the group of travellers, standing between them and Zsofika.

"Lady Zsofika, of Adorjan; blessed be the hunt. Though we travel on business for the Barony, may we be of assistance to you?" he queries with a slight bow, though keeping his eyes fixed on the huntress-demon. To lower one's guard in her present might be seen as a mockery of her hunt, and would only serve to insult and enrage her. He waits to hear the reply.

[Zoronos]

Orbs and Collars

Bartrand Mar

Bartrand sat quietly... a few chairs down from the others. That... whatever it was creeped him out a bit. Was it a Zombie that another had sent? No, no, it breathed, that couldn't be it. Well, whatever it was, it was really creepy, and Bartrand didn't like it one bit.

He brushed his dark hair back from his face, and a few specks of mixed purple and red dust fell on the collar of his dark blue tunic. The remnants of that morning's experiments at finding an effective combination of Algarel and Firedust that could be stabilized. All he had managed so far was to create a substance that reacted violently to either substance's trigger. Oh, and he had blown up a Marotte, which resulted in two smaller marottes both getting quickly back to work. Thankfully the demon didn't seem to mind the process. Anyway, he was getting swiftly bored.

He had spent the first fifteen minutes drawing up a more efficient version of the sake refinery he could see out the window. It would only take a couple Marrotes and a Haranhal a week or two to raise a much larger building. He had scribbled the numbers into the bottom corner of a notebook page, filling the rest with schematics for a larger stone building. Then again, maybe the others wouldn't be so happy about having demons building architecture in the Slag. Down in the rest of the Dross, they'd probably care less, but up here people were a tad more picky.

After that realization, he had shrugged, turned the page, and went back to sketching designs for other relics. He needed to nick that Infernal Cannon thingy he had seen one of the Blood Apes running around with a few weeks back and take it apart to see how it worked. He could just summon a second circle demon, a subsoul of Ligier most likely, and demand to know how they worked, but that would be a tad gauche. He started sketching idly in his book again, small pictures and diagrams for... something. He didn't get very far before he got bored and shut his book. He contemplated making small talk with his companions, but the zombie thing still creeped him out. The other one was pretty, like a living statue, but so pretty that she was intimidating, in a way. He decided it would be better to keep to himself, for now.

After a half hour of waiting, the young man cleared his throat quietly. "Pardon me, Miss Arianna, but what is it exactly that we're here to see?"

[Odd_Canuck]

Silver and Gold Span the Infernal Heaven

Punch looks in the direction of the assistants and offers a faint nod, clearly a cue that they are to start bringing forth the gifts and form up the receiving line.

Most guests receive their gift, the thanks of Min and a smile and a nod from Punch. Some few he will unbend himself to say the word "Thanks" with his smile and nod, most typically those that he feels have been doing things in Oasis for the good of all. Some handful receive more, those that are in positions usually reserved for the family of the happy couple.

Such as Venus herself, the first of the line. Punch loudly proclaims "Thank You Holy One", and then leans in closer to deliver the rest of his thought at a whisper meant for the ears of Min and Venus alone. Holding his hand out, fingers loosely spread pointed at the Maiden of Serenity he says "Sacrifice". Putting his hand with fingers closed over his heart he follows with "Hope". Finally he holds Min's tiny hand up in his between the three of them, and makes a fist, adding "Victory". With a smile he then hands to Venus her gift. Five scrolls bearing five songs in praise and thanks to Venus that have no superior in any age.


Oriasta's presentation is both shorter and yet more significant. Punch merely holds out her gift, a small box no larger than two finger widths in any direction with a smile, a nod that edges into being a bow, and the statement "New Life".


Fury's presentation is perhaps the most simple of all the early presentations, consisting merely of Punch looking at Fury, raising an eyebrow slightly and presenting the Tonfas to Fury with a bow.

[Dragnar]

Orbs and Collars

The Jadeborn artisan remained silent and still, waiting patiently for the Solar to finish her preparations. She had certainly heard all manner of terrible things about the Twilight, but she was never one to judge a person from hearsay. Besides, if this creation of hers was actually as impressive as she claimed, Jania wasn't going to miss the chance to see it. Any advantage she could get would be needed in this place, if she intended to keep the remains of her people alive.

Still, her mind began to drift as time passed. It always did in these situations. Sure, this workshop was far more impressive than most in the Oasis... but she couldn't help but mentally list every last flaw and missing tool. A bit of work here, a paintjob there, and she could have this place looking many times nicer... Not that it mattered. It would never compare to the facilities she was used to, not without decades of work gathering the needed materials and tools. She sighed rather loudly at this without realizing it, disgusted with both the pathetic situation the surviving creation-born were in and her own inability to be of much help.

[DaWrecka]

Orbs and Collars

The Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies drummed his fingers on his knee, soulsteel against soulsteel producing a sound that was quite eerie to mortals. Being invited to this showcase had been something of a surprise. He knew that deathknights were not exactly the darlings of the Creation-born. Doubly-so in the case of those who, like him, sought to bring about The End Of All Things. The fact that he looked barely a step removed from a zombie himself certainly did not earn him any friends among the so-called "Celestial Host", and that he was seldom seen without Oblivion Case again compounded matters. Were it ever to become known that he was researching weapons and contagions to devastate the entire Celestial Host, just in case his suspicions proved true... Well, he hoped that wouldn't come to pass. He was not so dismissive of the living that he was unwilling to acknowledge that he was hopelessly-outnumbered here.

The reputation of this Twilight crafter - or was she a sorceress? The stories were divided - had reached him even in his thusfar-short time among the living. Opinion was clearly divided on her. Some spoke of her with reverence, others spoke of her with much contempt. "bitch" was a word that he had heard spoken of her many a time. Still, with the lack of anything resembling objective fact about her, he was prepared to withhold judgement. He found it easier to respect the crafters among the living, even if he intended to cast them into the Void just as he would any other.

To that end, he cast a speculative eye over the others who had been invited. The male human - he mentally-cursed himself for not learning the Through Dead Eyes charm before he had left the Thousand, as he could not identify whether the man was Exalted - seemed rather nondescript, certainly not matching the archetype of the Twilight Caste too well. The other attendee was rather more interesting, however - a jadeborn, if the Artificer did not miss his guess. He had learned a little of them while studying in the libraries of his liege, but he had been under the impression that they had been extinct since the First Age. If their reputation was to be believed, they were perhaps the foremost crafters of magitech among the Creation-born. Perhaps it would be worth keeping an eye on that one...

[Volthawk]

Fury accepts the tonfa with a nod. Although he really didn't have much use for the tonfa, he understood the importance of this event in the scheme of things. However, apart from that moment, Fury spends the wedding by the back of the ceremony, vigilant of any forces that may interfere with the ceremony, and only when Venus does the main part of the ceremony does Fury pay full attention to it.

[Gargulec]

Of Orbs and Collars

'Done!' the loud announcement, followed by a quick and sharp turn brought you face-to-face with Arianna (and also made the fire-duck in the middle of stifling a yawn almost jump, startled). There was a wide, thought certainly very cold grin on the Solar's scarred face, one that would be hardly out of place on a painting of a triumphant monarch condemning the conquered nation to fires everlasting or something equally unpleasant. "Behold my triumph" it screamed. A small pouch dangled from her hand.

'Only the three of you?' she asked, as if she was not aware of that before, frowning. 'Ah, that does not matter' she decided in an instant, though it did not take an empath to notice that she was not happy about the number of those who came to witness her newest invention. 'You'll tell them, you surely will' the words were more of a statement of fact than a question or guess. Apparently, she was quite sure of herself.

She came closer, fetching herself a chair and giving each of you a long, studious look. Her eyes stopped for a particularly drawn while on Artificer, as if appraising him.

'A deathknight, yes? Interesting' she muttered loudly and ominously, in a voice suggested that she knew more that she wanted to reveal. 'Anyway!' with a gesture of a stage magician presenting a new trick to the audience, she dropped the pouch on the middle of the table. The brazen surface rang loudly. 'Inside, a fruit of many months of my labour and research, a wonder necessary to our survival!'

With an elaborate bow only slightly marred by the sorry state her fingers were in, she untied to bag. The fabric went down, revealing to you eyes... a number of a nut-sized jet-black orbs of soulsteel inscribed with countless Old Realm sigils.

'This...' Arianna inhaled sharply, her eyes almost ablaze with pride 'is the solution to the least god problem!'

Of Kites and Flutes

The demon long fingers coiled around the swords hilts, jolting the upwards, the pommels pointing towards the ground and along, silvery blades running upwards along her arms. In a wordless silence, only disturbed by the quiet melody drawn from your guide's harp of time, she bent forward, nimbly jump down on the cracked basalt pavement, her landing raising a small cloud of dust from between the cracks.

Few quick, perfectly paced steps brought her right next to you, so close to Vana that the naked demon's body was almost pressed against the Iron Wolf's robe, a strong scent of blood, sweat and smoke shrouding her, filling your minds with the visions of bloodshed and moon-lit hunts that have no beginning nor end. Oddly, up close, she proved shorter that you'd expect, almost a head shorter than the Cynis. Even more weirdly, it did not make her appear any less dangerous or unassuming.

'Serpent?' she said with a smirk, raising her argent eyes to meet Vana's sight 'well put, Nightbringer. And worry not, you are not my quarry, nor is my hunt disturbed by you. But spare me the courtesies next time, they have no place in my mind nor fiefdom'

Gently, she jumped back, the bells and chimes of her playing and exquisite melody with every little move of her athletic body.

'Well done' she gave your angylkae a pat on the head. 'Now begone'

The demon did not have to hear her orders twice, almost instantly fading into one of the side-alleys.

'Now, you call me a lady and give me bows' she said 'but it says nothing of you that would interest me, for I judge as a hunter does' saying that, she flicked her writs, making the blades slash cut through the air, coming into combat stance. 'Crowned Sun' she turned to Isurkam 'bloody me, prove your worth with blades and wounds, and then maybe I shall find you worthy of all that hassle.'

[oramus]

Isrukam watches the Angylkae leave, making a mental note to speak to her about this duplicity at a later time. Zsofika's challenge was not at all unexpected, though it was nevertheless an undesirable prospect. Still, if this was what it took to gain the demon's respect, that was that; by now Isrukam was used to dealing with the unusual customs of Malfeas' denizens.
This was not solely his decision, however. He glances over his shoulder at the rest of the group and then ahead at Vana, looking for signs of dissent as his hand moves to draw his lance from his back.

[Flare]

"...True. It was not so much the silence as the oppressive covering of demons over everything. she explains, frowning. She did not mind silence, but she also knew it was bad here, even if not in the Oasis. Then, as the talking went on, she slowly drifted off, thinking about how to fix the world.

Until the Demon's statement came out, and pulled her back to reality. She looked between the Demon and the rest of the group, taking a few steps forward from the back, looking directly at Isrukam. She places her hand on his Lance. There's almost a grin on her face, showing a pair of elongated canines. Her hair falls back in front of one of her eyes, the grimore on her side. There's a massive amount of fumbling and buckling as she removes chains and belts form her waist. Before long, she holds the Grimore in her hands, a massive pile of chain and locks placed on top of it. "I will deal with this...if you can hold this." she offered.

[oramus]

Isrukam looks in surprise as Rose steps forwards; she had been almost completely silent during their journey, until now. He knows little about her, but the rumours he has heard and the colossal daiklave she carries both speak volumes about her ability to fend for herself. Nonetheless, it would be madness to allow her to challenge Zsofika alone, he decides.

He shouts towards the emerald sky in a voice clear and loud which rings from the brass walls - "ENLIL!" His agata familiar, his ally, steed and friend heeds the call, and emerges from behind a nearby building to descend to Isrukam's side. Isrukam carefully takes the tome from Rose, noting the distasteful markings covering its surface and the slick, cold feel of the cover, and presents it to the agata.

"Enlil, would you please keep the lady's book safe until we are finished here?" he asks quietly, before gesturing to Rose to step ahead and continuing to draw his lance.

Spoiler

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Isrukam is happy to let Rose take the lead here, but won't stand by idly in case something goes horribly wrong. His familiar can float around nearby looking after her book until the fight ends, one way or another.

[DaWrecka]

Orbs and Collars

For the first time that he could remember, The Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies found himself... nonplussed. The fact that the Solar had failed to identify him as a Chosen of Oblivion until across a table from him struck him as surprising. After all, articulated plate of moaning black soulsteel is usually difficult to miss. The long daiklave sheathed across his back resonated like soulsteel thanks to the Fivefold Harmonic Adapter adhered to its surface. His face was gaunt, with taut, death-grey skin pulled covering his skull. He was, he was honest-enough with himself to admit, a walking zombie in appearance, though not in intelligence and capabilities. And yet, in spite of all these clues, obvious to all but the blindest of mortals, the Solar had somehow managed to overlook his allegience to the Void. Absently, the Artificer noted that perhaps her reputation was exaggerated somewhat...

And then she opened the bag, and the Artificer found he had to check himself. Soulsteel? He was quite sure that Solars were unable to learn Soul-Forged Fury. She could not, as he could, overcome the requirement for Labyrinthine ore with which to smelt soulsteel. Where had this Despoiler found such ore? For that matter, where had she found ghosts to beat into the metal? Even the Soul-Forged Fury Charm could not escape that requirement... What did this... child know about working soulsteel that he did not?

All of this and more passed through the Artificer's mind as he observed the orbs. With some effort he managed to avoid showing any outward consternation, but the power of the Void increased ever so slightly in his anima...

Spoiler

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Temperance roll to resist showing concern; 4, 10 - success.
Resonance +1 for rolling Flawed Virtue.

Resonance: ●xxxx xxxxx

[Dragnar]

Jania wrinkled her nose slightly as she saw the orbs revealed. Soulsteel, eh... disgusting stuff, and she refused to work with it without good reason. Of course, it was also in short supply in her home, so it rarely came up anyway. For that matter, the deathknight at the table with her was rather disconcerting as well, clad in full soulsteel armor. Still, she had worked with stranger beings before, and as long as no one tried to make her work with the stuff, there would hopefully be no problem.

Still, if the Twilight has actually found a way to circumvent the lack of divinities around the Oasis, it would certainly be worth the cost. Or almost any cost for that matter. Without gods, things here just didn't work as the creation-born expected...

"Oh? And how exactly have you managed that? I was under the impression the mechanism of divine generation were non-functional here..."

[Gargulec]

Of Kites and Flutes

With a buzzing of faceted, jewel wings, the beauteous wasp took flight again, the book clinched tightly it its mandibles, the light of the Green Sun dispersing through its gemstone abdomen, flooding the street below with a thousand of mingling, soft lights.

'You mistake me for another demon' Zsofika scoffed at the Eclipse as Rose stepped forward, but eyeing the Dusk carefully as she went too, not averting her gaze from her for a barest moment. 'I am a hunter, and you take me for a knight.'

She turned to the Abyssal, raising the curved points of her blade at her.

'I would compliment your bravery, if such things were of concern to me, Child of Ash' she said, smirking yet again 'but I am not wasting my blades in a duel against a champion. You all' she made a sweeping gesture with one of her swords, the sound of air being split by the keen edge accompanying her words, strangely in tune with the chiming of her bells, as if it was a single melody 'that what interest me, that what I would test my blades against. Your skill, your blades, your blood I want to taste before I am to find you worthy of all that hassle.'

[MrPrim]

”Thank you,” Oriasta says, touching the bag of seeds and bowing formally to her hosts, ”Your gift is treasured.”

”Allow me to offer you a small, humble gift,” the goddess muttered, reaching out a hand to the blushing bride, ”May I?”

Oriasta pulled one of the blue orchids from her hair and placed it behind Min’s ear. ”What is a wedding without flowers?” she asked, flourishing her hands most dramatically. Vines of blue and white orchids and roses sprang forth from the brassy ground and twined their way up into the rafters, joining the blue ribbons. In an instant, the single flower behind the Lunar’s ear was a delicate tiara of sapphire orchids. ”They will not last long in this soil, I am afraid,” Oriasta said to the Exalted couple, her tone a bit sad, ”But blooms and flowers are always fleeting, it is the fruit that they bear that lives on.”

Oriasta bowed low to her hosts and returned to her seat.

Spoiler

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OOC: Casting Calculated Order of Immediate Action (10m, 1wp) for my little flower show.

[AmberVael]

Of Kites and Flutes

"A lone predator against a pack." With a flick of her wrist, Vana turns her fan into a dangling cloth, whatever trickery that held the frame together coming undone. She says no more, nor tries to convince Zsofika otherwise- a group spar against the demon was getting off easy- she'd rather take it than provoke her with further words.

Vana slips back behind Rose and Isrukam, willing to fight, but also to let others take up the front line. She'd wait for the right moment, and watch for weaknesses. With this done, she waits for Zsofika to strike.

[Sallera]

Of Kites and Flutes

Child of Ash? That sounds... familiar. Is she a Knight? Well, time enough for that later. So, the hunter wants to see if we are prey. As the others sort out the terms of the coming challenge, Tewi takes the time to shift his vision up and down the street, getting a better look down alleys and in windows. No need to get cornered by a poor move, after all. His other eye opens as he completes the circuit, his vision returning to normal, and he nods to the waiting demon with a half-smile.

"Well, far from the first time I've been hunted, although I doubt I've faced one quite so bright before." Tapping the fingertips of his gauntlets together, he creates a ringing chord of bell tones much deeper than the black metal's size would indicate, and drops into an easy, natural stance, his hands held slightly open.

[Gargulec]

Silver and Gold Span the Infernal Heaven

The gift of words did not go without effect on the Maiden of Serenity. Her smile widened a bit... no, actually not, only the shadows in her eyes thinned for a moment, allowing the light to shine through, as if what happened has only been a nightmare that was about to end - for the dawn was breaking.

'Love endures, said the maiden' she whispered so quietly that you were quite unsure whether she even meant you to hear it. The scrolls seemingly disappeared in her hands, but then you moved your gaze from her, and saw them again - dancing around them as sapphire wisps, each of them a reminder. She took a moment to contemplate them with you, before calling another of her wide array of stunning, warm smiles on her face, and placing her palms on your arms 'Go' she suggested, pushing you gently towards the guests 'it is your day now, enjoy it and treasure the memories'

When you turned, she was disappeared, only her delicate, hypnotizing fragrance still clinging to the air, and not fading even after long minutes passed from the goddess sudden vanishing.

Min accepted Orista's gift with a coy smile and an elegant curtsy, her small fingers tracing the flowers shapes with astonishment as they sprouted and bloomed on her forehead. 'You are very kind, Lady, and so talented too' she complimented the goddess, her eyes azure lanterns alight with happiness and sheer joy. She seemed to grow brighter and happier with every passing moment, and while still a bit on the silent side, she was enjoying the ceremony a great deal - and her Solar even more, given how she hung from him, smiling serenely.

You did not notice him - you have no idea on how could have had that happened, but somehow you had not noticed him until he brutally shoved Oriasta to the ground from the table, and reached with his stained hand into a rice bowl. You could not even remember if he was there from the begging, wearing some guise or mask or whether he did come from the fields... or the endless plains of brass.

Who was he? A man, most likely - but also certainly not entirely. He was impossibly tall and gaunt, so much that he appeared to be more a shadow, a wight, than an actual living being, even his tanned skin not making him appear any more life-like - for it appeared dried and crumbling as if it belonged to a corpse left to dry under the scorching, desert sun. Long mane of pitch black hair flowed from his shoulders to the middle of his black, appearing to slither with a life of his own. Barring a loincloth - a tattered, faded rag wrapped around his things, he was wearing nothing - unless excessive amount of ochre body paint, forming mesmerizing, unsettling swirls across his arms and chest counted as clothing.

Only his face held some semblance of life - the malice in his sarcastic grin of cracked lips, and something in his eyes, something of sheer savage and monstrosity, bottomless hate that could never be sated.

'My, my, my' he spoke up, his voice cutting through the bustling of the wedding. All eyes were suddenly set on him, and it seemed to please him 'it seems that I've missed the ceremony, that is a shame' he was speaking in a low, calm sneer, a tone of someone who had nothing but contempt for those gathered. 'But thankfully, the bride is just as pretty, pure and innocent as I was lead to believe... though some bad people omitted me for the guest list, that is a shame too...' his hand dove into the bowl of rice, taking a fistful 'now, that is a delicacy' he added, swallowing it 'but what was I at? Ah!' he exclaimed, starting to look really amused. 'The bride, pretty, small and all that. So!' he turned towards Punch, extending a hand to him as if he wanted to give him a handshake across all that distance. 'See, I happen to be what you call... the Swords of Hell, right?' a pair of emerald blades appeared on his forehead, gleaming with the portents of a very nasty things about to happen, and suddenly all the sounds of the wedding hushed, leaving only an ill-boding silence. 'And that kind of makes me your better, liege, all that... so, I thought, I should exercise some laws, like the law of the first night. The bride goes to me this night, so that she can surrender her maidenhood to me, unless you want me to take her by force... that would work too, I believe.'

His smile did not change a slightest bit during his tirade, though the monster behind his eyes grew even more visible as Min paled and embraced Punch tightly, trying to say something but only able to shiver.

[Volthawk]

Fury laughs, a growling laugh, deepening as he changes, growing several feet, his armour twisting in shape as armoured ridges grow underneath it, forming a more...monstrous shape, long silver talons growing out of his hands. The ceremony was over now, and this demonspawn had intruded - in Fury's mind, staying subtle out of respect was out of the window now.

"Oh, and you think you could take her by force against all of us, slave of demons?"

[Zoronos]

Of Orbs and Collars

Bartrand Mar

On some unconscious level, Bartrand shuddered when Arianna mentioned the word deathknight. That could only be the name of that psuedo-Zombie creature. He had heard it once or twice before, he thought. Anyway, he leaned forwards as Arianna revealed the results of her craft.

As the rag was pulled away, Bartrand scowled. Soulsteel? That didn't make any sense. Sure, Soulsteel didn't require a Least God, powered as it was by trapped Hun souls. Did Ariana truly mean to replace all Least Gods with captured human souls? No, no, that wouldn't be possible there simply weren't enough anymore, unless she could find a way to travel to and from the Labyrinth.

Bartrand shook his head to clear it. He began rapidly muttering, mostly to himself, momentarily oblivious to the others around, "Hmm.. there are already some solutions for the Least God problem. Obviously, demons rendered into chalcanth can substitute. Moreover, I have managed to create true Least Gods using Wyld Shaping principles. Hmm... balls could form arcane link to labyrinth, draw out souls. No, no, that would not truly solve problem, only allow working with soulsteel. Other materials would need to be viable as well. Perhaps some form of inverted harmonic resonator. Would need starmetal wiring..."

Bartrand stopped suddenly, realizing he was in the middle of a social group, rather than alone in his lab. He looked around and cleared his throat self conciously before continuing. "Perhaps you should explain, Arianna."

[Gargulec]

Orbs and Collars

The interested displayed by her guests seemed to inflate Arianna's ego by no small amount. Her grin widened, she almost clasped her hands out of pride.

'The principle behind' she picked up one of the spheres, weighting it in her palm, before grasping it between her fingers so that you could see it more clearly 'is simple in its ingenuity!'

She eyed you, probably expecting awe already.

'Without even any starmetal wiring, the tormented spirit inside can be compelled to power any work of craft' she continued, putting the orb down again 'if only thanks to certain formulas discovered by me through meticulous research and months of endless toil. But here it is! Around this simple orb, any artifact can be created, with the trapped hun soul inside functioning as a least god providing the power and spiritual weight for the device, to this small, unassuming thing any non-functional wonder can be attached and it will have its power again!' she announced triumphantly. 'Only minimal amounts of raw soulsteel and just a single soul rightly processed is enough to create such sphere' the twilight made a long pause, tying the pouch once more with a satisfied expression painted on her face 'and with such basic ingredients, lack of least gods is no longer a concern - for even a fool barely knowing his tool could craft this sphere of my design, even a dragon-blood would have little problems with it!'

She sat down heavily on the free chair, leaning back, arms behind her head, making herself look relaxed and self-assured.

'Questions?' she asked, her voice clearly signalizing that she expected praise, not actual queries.

Of Kites and Flutes

Zsofika stomped on the pavement lightly, her bare sole making barely a sound as it bound of the brass - but the city itself seemed to resonate. There was a change in the bells chimed, slight, barely noticeable, but there - as if a heart begun to beat, changing the rhythm and frequency of the chaotic bell sounds.

A single flake of basalt, shaped like an elegant snow-flake spiralled down from the skies to Zsofika's feet, and other soon followed, the jet black snow looking oddly appropriate around the Kite Flute.

'So...' the demon said, clenching her fingers tightly around the hilts and smiling in excitement '...music...' she stomped again, and this time you felt it clearly, the street itself beating to the tune of her heart, the fiefdom as eager to taste blood as its master 'play!'

And she was at you in an instant, her blades blurring as she ran.

Spoiler

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Roll Join Battle!
Zsofika: (12d10)[9][4][2][6][5][4][10][3][6][2][4][9](64)

[Dragnar]

Well, this Solar's attitude was already starting to grade on Jania's nerves. Yes, yes, it was a decent idea. But hardly what she had promised. The lack of least gods made problems far beyond the crafting of Artifacts, and it wasn't as if they didn't have any other way of creating the things. After all, there was a nearly unlimited supply of first circle demons about...

"An interesting idea to be sure... but I have to admit, it seems like a temporary measure at best. We lack the supplies to produce more soulsteel, however little it takes, and the demons about can be used to power artifacts just as easily. Unless you have also found a way to produce more soulsteel than whatever limited supplies you have already? Our supply of souls is rather more limited than those of demons after all..."

She raised an eyebrow as she spoke, watching the Solar's reaction to her relatively nonchalant response to her masterpiece. A hand slipped into one of her pockets as she did, fingering a piece of golden thread hidden there. She would hope the Twilight wouldn't be too upset over a simple question, but better safe than sorry from what she had heard.

[DaWrecka]

Orbs and Collars

A single hun soul to act as a least god... to say the Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies was intrigued would have been an understatement. Granted, he had little need of the things himself, but Artificer found himself in a unique position. As perhaps the only Daybreak Caste within the Celestial Host - or so he suspected, he had no way to be certain - he was perhaps the only person who could create the soulsteel for these items, making him uniquely-powerful. And such power could be useful in his plans.

At least, that was the theory. He considered his words carefully. He did not want to tip his hand too early. "How do you go about smelting soulsteel in this forsaken plane," he asked, in a rasping voice no mortal throat could have produced. "Without ore from the Labyrinth with which to mix the souls?"