Oasis is Hell - Exalted 2ed - IC

[Odd_Canuck]

Silver and Gold Span the Infernal Heaven

With a shrug at the refused offer, Punch reaches over to the table where the stack of token gifts for unexpected guests were stored. Picking up the tin-boxed set of decorative dishware, he tosses one at the feet of the arrogant interloper with the statement "Not Invited. Go."

Raising a hand in the direction of the demonic band he flashes a number of numeric hand signs... Five, Three, One, Three and the band picks up the cue to stop playing the demonic classics they had launched into with the start of the chaos and into one of the songs he taught them.

Grabbing Min lightly by the hand, he starts to dance to the music, while keeping an eye on the arrogant lout lest he decide to be foolish.

A Polite nod and smile is launched in the direction of Fury, combined with a glance over at the Infernal gate crasher.

Spoiler

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Defend Other on Min

[Gargulec]

Things Lost and Broken

Slowly, the elemental entered Jania's workshop, stepping very carefully, as if there was anything to break by carelessness inside.

'She did, of course she did!' she ensured the Jadeborn very quickly. 'Not... directly, though...'

Minding her every movement, the fire-duck sat down the brazen floor, kneeling with her legs folded.

'I... spied on her, actually' she admitted, gulping, the light in her eyes dimming a littlest bit. 'When she wrecked the forge and started screaming about ending all that' she pressed on, bowing her head 'I became scared... of her, mostly. So I melted the chain... and then...' the elemental paused to cough 'Lady Arianna stormed out, and I... followed her, hoping to calm her... but she was deaf on my pleas' there was a faint trace of bitterness in her voice as she was saying that 'but I followed her regardless... to the Port Wrath itself!'

There was barely contained terror in her words as mentioned the name of this infamous place, and rightly so. Ah, Port Wrath, the wretched hive of scum and villainy! Hell within Hell, they called it. Sitting at the edge of Cecelyne, it belonged neither truly to Oasis nor was it a part of the Demon City proper. Those of the Creation-born who did not accept social order or laws imposed upon them by the Celestial Host or rulers of Hell dwelt there: smugglers, criminals. And though the place looked barely better than one of those settlements around gate-towns, illegal (and profitable business) was already taking place there - and on a no small scale. Only wonder was how it managed to gain such a dreaded reputation within just a few months since the End of Days.

'She spoke with bad people there' the fire duck stated the obvious. 'So that they would take her somewhere, on their sandships...'

She gave Jania a beseeching look.

'Don't take me wrong, she is not a bad person' she started to speak very fast, as if fearing that the Jadeborn would interrupt her 'childish, but not bad. She is better than she appears to be! She only tries to play such an... arrogant person, she is different when there is no one around... Please, you have to help her' she begged, touching her forehead to the the ground, her fiery mane leaving a burn mark on the brass.

The Visits

Bartrand

They were working in a group of four. The youngest and strongest sawed the massive slab of brass into an inch-thick sheets, his dark blade wailing infernally as it bit into fragments of Malfeas' body. Soon, it would dull, so he would come over to the workshop and offer his blood and prayer to the craftsman so that they would sharpen it once more, and it would be keen again then. The older and nimble-fingered carried a freshly-cut sheet to the side and chiselled it, until it was smooth, humming a song from the lost North as he worked. The woman to his side gathered the shavings he produced to a small bucket, for brass in Malfeas burnt as surely as an actual wood, and they needed fire. The work of all three of them was important, but not crucial. The most important job lied in the hands of an unassuming old man, bald as a knee, with a long, stained beard. To him, the young man did carry a ready sheet, and then he would grumble something, reach into a jug of some old mixture that brewed over a fire and paint an intricate symbol on the metal, the potion burning itself into it in a manner of some acid. But it did not weaken it, no, it only made it stronger, strong enough to serve as a wall. Maybe in Creation it would fail against the weather and the flow of time, but here, in Oasis, weather was hardly a concern for anyone, for weather was Yozis, and Yozis kept away from the Creation-born. As for the time... you had more important thing to mind than future now.

And so, all four of them created a part of a new home for someone. The town around Mar's workshop was full of their works, for they were reliable and cheap, and just two sheets were enough to create a simple house, half-dug into the floor. Poor and pitiable home, but a home still.

Them did Bartrand see as he gazed out of the window on the top of his manse.

'This is impressive, how fast you adapt'

As a part of an agreements set as the raising of this workshop-manse, the one whose essence flowed through it would have always a right of free entrance inside. Right she was taking use of just now.

Inhumanely slender and shapely, delicate of features, yet predatory in action, clad in a tight, jet-black dress that revealed just enough to set a fire in a man's soul ablaze, surrounded by a faint, yet spicy fragrance she shed an aura of passion around herself, shadow breeding fires in an amusing, very malfaen inversion of the laws the world rolled by. Aleuva, that was her name. The Keeper of the Forge of Night.

'Soon' she added, with a sound suggesting a glass of silver wine being raised in an unspecified salute 'they shall consider you their God-King, you are well aware of that... maybe they do already, unknowingly. You fit in nicely in the way or our realm. And don't you' there was a pause 'deny that. Oh, and by the way, Bartrand' the Solar could easily see the smile on her face 'if Lords are graceful, soon, I shall have a soul to deal with, to render into azoth' she said that as if it was perfectly ordinary to have second-circle demons dissolved in an acid 'and I would rather do it... delicately, out of the eyes of those who do frown on such practices. I hope' and there was no hope in her words, only a thinly veiled order 'that I can expect your assistance in the deed?'

Before the Twilight could reply, there was a sound of a lame being ascending on the stairway, stepping heavily and without any finesse.

'Lord!' it was one of forge's fervid smiths, it was obvious without even looking. 'There is a visitor, a supplicant. Should we... let her in?'

Grace of the Undying
Artificer

They came without a warning, at the last tomescu howls, the moment brilliant malfean night was beginning.

There were words, but they quit comprehension. There were orders, but without sense or meaning. There was madness and torment and ecstasy mixed into a thickest of brews, one that numbed the body and stole the mind.

And there were images, too. Crazy parade of the meaningful memories. The face of Arianna, the Green Sun, the desert that stretched out into infinity. And then a series of quick flashes. Branding iron. Emerald fire. Laughter, screams, blood, collapse. Faces of people realizing their doom. Portents of Oblvion.

And then, a single thundering clarion.

SHE.

Images dimmed, the mind was back in its place, the throbbing sensation in the back of the head only reminder of the sudden of the Whispers of the Void at the End of All Things.

[Zoronos]

The Visits

Bartrand arched an eyebrow, set down his Hyperion Key, and leaned back to regard the demon. He smiled, ever so slightly. He enjoyed her visits, though he would likely not admit that to anyone, least of all her. They were always interesting. Sometimes harrowing, sometimes frightening, but always interesting.

He held up a hand to the Haranhal, "Yes, whomever it is, let them in, find out who they are, and have them wait in the front room. I will see to them after I finish here; as you can see, I have a far more important guest at the moment."

As the Haranhal hurried back down the stairs, Bartrand sighed and looked out the window. "You're right, they probably will consider me their god-king. But they're wrong about it, and we both know it. They look up to me because this manse provides them food, and they presume it is by my beneficence that they eat. Do you think they'd be so quick to praise me if they knew who raised this place, or that it was consecrated, in a way, to the Shadow Of All Things? Of course, in the end it matters not. And yes, you're right, I am fitting in rather nicely here. On that note..."

Bartrand pulled a bottle from under his desk, and a pair of glasses. He was about to blow the dust off of them when he stopped; this place had no dust, no need for that old habit. The demon realm was strange like that. He pulled the stopper from the bottle, and began to pour out the silvery liquid, giving Aleuva the larger glass. She was his guest, after all. "Sorry, all I have on hand at the moment is Gilmyne." Bartrand slid the glass across the table to the demon.

Taking a sip of the slightly bitter but still quite tasty liquid, Bartrand returned his attention to his guest. "I am of course happy to assist, but you knew that before you asked. I'll need some specifics, what demon, when, if you want me to preform the summoning or if you will take care of transport, etcetera."

[Volthawk]

Fury yawns, obviously not a natural yawn, but a long, drawn-out mocking yawn. "Yeah, yeah. Threat threat threat, 'oh, I'm a Sword of Hell, and I'm big and scary'."

Fury walks over to meet the Infernal, standing taller than him, bending down over him, grabbing him and bringing him up to Fury's eye level.

"Well, you don't scare me. In fact, all these threats are amusing. But feel free to try something, if you feel you can take us all on. Just don't be surprised when you end up in pieces after this."

Spoiler

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Engaging a clinch with the Infernal.

Join Battle: (7d10)[4][10][10][10][9][5][3](51) 7 successes

Dexterity+Martial Arts: (17d10)[3][7][4][5][8][10][8][1][2][6][1][4][6][9][5][4][4](87) 6 successes

[Dragnar]

Jania nodded slowly as the elemental explained things, thinking her options over as it spoke. So, the fool of a solar at least had a destination in mind... but likely not one that would end well for the rest of the mortals here.

"Port Wrath... Well, after that outburst I can't say it's surprising she would head there. Still, it sounds like she's in over her head..." The jadeborn shook her head, standing and stretching for a moment. "Nothing for it then. I'll pay the Port a visit, see if I can find where she went. After that... no promises, but I'll do what I can."

[Odd_Canuck]

Barely into the second verse, Fury has made his move and while not the ideal one to Punch's thoughts it is a move none the less. Leaning in close with his face deadpan to give no clue, he asks his new partner the most important question any can ask.. "Two are One. His Fate?". None save Punch hear her faintly whispered response, or the near-feral look that crosses his face for but a moment.

Gently switching off himself for Oriasta on the dance floor, Punch's head hangs low as his caste mark starts to glow faintly. He walks over to the buffet table keeping himself between Min and the interloper, and he picks up a small bowl of rice in his left hand. Keeping his head down he declares "Swords of Hell Right. Challenge Accepted and Witnessed."

Spoiler

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Join Battle: (4d10)[2][1][2][10](15)

Continuing Defend Other on Min flurried with a Draw/Ready Buffet action

Spending 5 motes of Peripheral on activating arms of multiple manipulation, they are not yet visible.

[MrPrim]

Oriasta blinked as the groom twirled towards her and, ceremoniously and quite gracefully, handed her the bride in such a way that Oriasta was suddenly on the dance floor as well. Oriasta stared, wide-eyed at the young Lunar in her arms, as Punch danced away.

”W… what?” she squeaked, holding onto Min out of shock and surprise more than anything. But the three Celestial Exalts seemed to now be in their own little world… and Oriasta was holding the treasure they seemed to be fighting for.

Gods don’t generally sweat, but Oriasta suddenly felt like she was willing to give it the old college try.

[Gargulec]

Silver and Gold Span the Infernal Heaven

The waltz, the fact of being ignored, all that wiped the smile off the Infernal's face.

'And that is just...' her snarled, the ironical feeling of superiority gone from his voice, the hate that was in it suddenly surfacing 'is just a lack of proper respect! But worry not, curs...' he spat on the brass 'I'll beat that into you.'

He backed down a single step, effortlessly slipping Full Moon's graps, the long whip in his hands coiling and twisting as if it had a life on its own, leaving black tar where it touched the ground. He moved his eyes from Min to Fury now, though, and while there was no fear to be sensed in him, you could not escape a feeling that Lunar's words did hit him somewhere, rub salt into an open wound.

'SILENT!' his growl silenced the demon musician, and you could hear him breathing in a slowly rising fury. But he was not attacking, the end of his whip biting into shadows, jumping from one pool of darkness to another, ready to strike... yet he was hesitating, the caste mark on his forehead gleaming a bit less brightly.

You could not ask for more.

In Oriasta arms, Min was not shuddering any more - the little Lunar calmed herself at least a bit, and was not tracing her husband with wary eyes, muttering a silent prayer to the Argent Madonna under her breath.

Things Lost and Broken

The elemental shook her hand, raising a bit higher.

'I would never ask for more, no, no, Lady Jania!' she said hastily, a smile appearing on her face, her eyes glowing again. 'Just try... try find her, so that she will not become any more lost that she is already!

There was something touching in the look the fire duck gave Jania, some sort of devotion to a master that she remembered so clearly from the workers and warriors of her own kind. The lithe being would go after Arianna into the Maw of the Void if she would need to, and that was to be respected. Jadeborn lived a lives of duty and knew how to appreciate it.

'Will you require any aid, Lady Jania?' she asked, hopeful that maybe she will do more than just seek other's help 'whatever you need, I can try to accomplish!'

One way or another, with her help or without, a trip to the Port Wrath would take at least a day, unless Jania would find herself a better mean of transportation. And such voyage... such voyage should not be taken lightly. No, not to the Port Wrath. Preparations had to be made first, if the entire operation was to have any chances of succeeding.

The Visits

The demon accepted the glass with a quick curtsy, taking a single sip and allowing the precious liquor to rest on her tongue for a moment, so that the incomparable taste she would know in full.

'She must have been very graceful' she verdicted, smiling, not paying a slightest mind to the fact that the fervid smith behind her was openly ogling her with an eyes so full of lust that probably only feat kept him from taking... less considerate actions 'back in her dancing days. You serve chalcanth well picked, Lawgiver'

She took another sip, her eyes starting to glisten, her scent getting stronger and less... controlled, and then she just downed the glass in one shot. Mar could even see tiny droplets of sweat beginning to form on her forehead. The drink she has been drinking so much lately... was a powerful one.

'To answer your question' she chuckled all of sudden, dancing to the demon you summoned and casually shoving him down the staircase 'yes, yes they would! You are the lord of their lives and deaths, if not for you, they would rot! Even if you reveal yourself to be one of us, they will still worship you! Beautiful, is not it? So weak, so damm easy to use!' there was a genuine joy and passion in her words now, her reserved demeanour starting to drop. 'As for the demon... let us just say that a certain hunter... a certain hunter...' she repeated slowly, pronouncing each syllable with extra care 'is about to be hunted down... cornered, chained, caged and drowned... and then I shall drink her, or maybe...' she jumped to you, wrapping her arm around your neck, dropping the glass to the floor. It shattered with a loud crack 'maybe, just maybe we shall drink her together.'

She was hot in touch, but not naturally. The fire burning within her has been stoked recently, and now, it was showing.

[DaWrecka]

Grace of the Undying

The Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies stared up at the ceiling of his forge, his thoughts troubled for the first time since his Exaltation. He was far from unaccustomed to the whispers of the Neverborn, but seldom had the visions come so clearly. The Artificer had believed the Solar could be useful to him, but clearly she was much more - Clearly, the Solar Arianna was important to The End Of All Things. He could question how, but ultimately it did not matter. It was not his place to reason why, it was merely his place to serve Oblivion.

He sat up and cast an eye at the benches in the middle of his lab. His latest subject had expired some hours previously. Regrettably, the Artificer had failed to snare the mortal's soul. Whether it had gone to Oblivion, or to whatever this sorry Oasis had that passed for Lethe, he did not know. In either case, however, it represented lost resources; A soul he could not forge into soulsteel or bind to some other purpose. Its death had been somewhat wasteful, as well; The data he had been able to gather from that one had been useful, perhaps, but it had taught him nothing new. Still, the secrets of a new Great Contagion eluded him.

Perhaps it would be beneficial to get away from the lab for a little while... Some of the greatest epiphanies occurred after a period away from the experimenting table. He would go and speak to this Solar now, rather than later. There would always be time for investigating her means and motivations later. He removed his apron and crossed to where Oblivion Case stood. Some minutes later, he was fully-clad, with his daiklave sheathed across his back, and left the lab.

The deathknight found himself nonplussed once more when he reached the residence of Arianna, clad once more in his soulsteel armour and with his daiklave across his back. The destruction was no surprise to him, but the inhabitants struck him by their absence. Stepping across the threshold, he looked around the forge, but with the exception of the melted shackle that he had previously-seen holding the fire elemental, there was nothing obvious relating to the Solar's disappearance.

Clearly, this path to the Void was not to be an easy one...

[Dragnar]

She was going to regret this. She was sure of it. Not that that was going to change her mind. Jania pushed the beads out of the way, exiting her humble abode as she glanced back at the elemental. "I'm going to go visit your mistress's workshop, make sure there's nothing more to be found there. In the meantime, it would be helpful if you could find any others willing to help. I'm sure a few of the other jadeborn would be happy to come, at the least."

[MrPrim]

Spoiler

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(3d10)[7][10][6](23)

Join Battle/Hide from Battle

[Gargulec]

Things Lost and Broken
Artificer, Jania

The destruction within Arianna's forge had been chaotic, without any thought put to it: clearly a work of someone truly enraged. The contrast between the mess it was right now and immaculate order Artificer witnessed during her misguided presentation was striking indeed.

Tools lied strewed around, throw all over the forge... or actually what remained of them lied. As soon as it became obvious that the crazy solar was gone - and it did become obvious very fast, for it is not an easy task to hide such fact in a small society of gate-town crafters - the forge had been thoroughly picked through by anyone who could put his hands on it. Only the most broken implements and things too heavy to carry, like the anvil, remained. Arianna's extensive library was gone, the empty shelves reminding of the treasures they carried mere days ago, her storage emptied and put to a better use, the lump of soulsteel she put so much hope in probably already in a workshop of some curious dragon-blood. Someone was even determined enough to tear out the floor, hoping to find something mysterious beneath - and was probably sightly disappointed by the fact that there was only more of the brass there.

A young boy, bare footed and in a torn tunic was picking through the waste that remained curiously as Artificer entered. He jumped up instantly, throwing the junk he held to the ground and with a loud wail in a language the abyssal could not quite understand, darting past him towards the entrance as if the ground beneath him was literally ablaze - and managing to bump his head right into Jania's jade stomach, knocking himself back to the floor.

It was a moderate surprise for the jadeborn, for as a matter of fact, she had just entered the demolished forge - thought probably still a lesser one than to see a young boy cornered by an abyssal in a derelict forge.

'Ow' the mortal muttered, dazedly, and looked up at you, apparently believing himself to be in a deep troubles.

[DaWrecka]

Things Lost and Broken

The Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies favoured Jania with a simple nod, and focused his attention back on the young mortal. He wasn't trying to be intimidating, truth be told. But between his moaning soulsteel armour and the corpselike qualities of his head, he didn't need to try to intimidate the youngster.
"Explain," he said simply, in what was - for him at least - a level, even tone. "Now."

[Dragnar]

Jania shrugged off the collision, stepping around the boy to take a look around the rubble. Well, the solar had certainly been through with her destruction... Which was even more impressive after her rather pathetic attempt at throwing just one table yesterday. She waved a hand at the abyssal absent-mindedly as she carefully examined the mess for anything the earlier looters might have missed.

"No need to set a Wyld hunt on the boy. He's likely just here to sift though Arianna's things, same as several others appear to have done already."

Fortunately, most of those others were likely in a greater rush than she was. If the solar had left so much as a scrap of useful evidence she would find it. Just had to divide the area into even sections, and scan each one thoroughly to be sure she didn't miss anything.

Spoiler

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Search roll, after taking a few seconds to plan for Pillar of Temperance's extra dice: [roll0]

[oramus]

With his insight into Zsofika's psyche comes an idea; a chance to gain a valuable ally as well as preventing a probable slaughter, Isrukam notes, seeing more than a little bloodlust in Rose's eyes.

He clears his throat and addresses the demon anew.

"You are beaten, Zsofika! On your own terms and in what is quite frankly an embarassingly short time, leaving us without as much as a mark. The shame must truly be unbearable! And now sit there, bloodied and spent, in less than favourable company; are you concerned, I wonder? No doubt you should be!" Isrukam smiles and looks over his shoulder at Vana, at Tewi, and lastly at Rose, who is subtly licking a small drop of blood from the corner of her mouth.
"I feel confident in saying that my companions would have little problem with slaying you right here and now. But I have another idea." Isrukam leans down towards the fallen Zsofika ever so slightly, his voice becoming low and almost seductive. "Imagine, Zsofika, what hunts we could send you on? How many enemies we have here that we would have you chase and slay? The glorious Kite Flute, striking fear into all she pursues! And such a simple thing to do; you need only say 'yes'!"

Isrukam stands tall again, and lays out the terms of his proposal precisely and clearly.

"Zsofika, in exchange for your life and in recompense for your failure, you will vow to the following: to each of us present you will offer your services when requested to do so, and you will protect Oasis against any foes it may encounter. What is your answer?"

Spoiler

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Isrukam is trying to shame Zsofika as well as point out that we (particularly Rose/Tewi) could beat the crap out of her should the need arise, while playing up to her love of the hunt (her motivation) and basic survival instincts. As a note, he himself will not try and kill Zsofika if she refuses, but he might try and bargain a little if permitted.

[DaWrecka]

Things Lost and Broken

"Perhaps," the Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies replied to the Jadeborn. "But I would hear it from him, first. Besides which, perhaps he saw something that could prove useful." He returned his attention to the urchin. "Well, boy?" he said, his tone turning dangerous. "I suggest you tell us everything you know, before I decide to do something... drastic."

Spoiler

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(Manipulation + Presence) roll to intimidate the urchin into spilling everything he knows:
(4d10)[1][2][2][1](6)

[Gargulec]

Of Kites and Flutes

The smell of copper filled the air, and without a warning, there was a rain - though again thankfully not one of the Herga's or Kimbery's ones, no. This one was different. From the maroon clouds up above, warm gore started pour down, and the flakes you took for basalt before dissolved into blood beneath your feet. Within mere heartbeats, a quick spring was running down the street, staining the brass red.

Zsofika whispered something very quietly, gave a call - and the street obeyed. The cracked shutters swung open, crashing against the walls, the basalt pillars holding the buildings up suddenly cracking down. Like a river, black sand poured from the open windows onto the blood-flooded street, and turning into gore too. Ankle deep it became. And in its dark surface, images flashed and reflected. Images of glories and the hunt, of death and feasts. Of Silver Chair shining brightly on Creation's sky, the moonlight illuminating the great desert.

The buildings begun to creak, walls cracking. In the distance, a drum was beating, you could hear its deep, dark rythm with an absolute clarity, each beat a bit slower, each echo more mournful.

From the shadows, a creatures with crumbling standards spawned, crying tears of silver, casting their banners into the river of blood, so they would never be seen again.

The rain grew into a silent torrent, that drowned the fiefdom. Drum beat and beat, each striking bringing the melody closer to its terminal note. The things that dwelt in the shadows dissolved into black sand on your eyes too, joining the hellish river.

The Kite Flute closed her eyes, her face marred not by the wound on it, but on what she has been unwittingly pressed into.

She reached with her hand, grasping Isrukam's palm.

'Yes' she clarioned, and the word echoed in the torrent as if it was an agonal scream. The walls came soundlessly down, crashed into pavement, and the deluge of blood washed over the wreckage taking it down, down, down...

The fiefdom died with its master freedom.

[Flare]

Rose does not waste time, even as the Fiefdom collapses around them. She dabs some of the demon's blood off her lips, then puts it away. She is unmoving for a moment, as she looks at the Eclipse.

She pats Isurkam on the shoulder once the Oath is done. "Good job. You make a good springboard, and the rest of what you did was fairly impressive as well." she offers, then turns to the bound demon, giving another smile. There were no fangs this time. "I have a request first." she explains. "Take us to Amalion."

[oramus]

As the words are spoken and the downpour begins, there is light; warm, golden light which bursts from Isrukam's and Zsofika's clasped hands and forms a blinding halo circling the Eclipse's forehead. They remain immoving with their hands held as the oath takes root and as the surrounding buildings plummet to the ground and are devoured by thick tides of crimson. They release their grip, the light dies away, the downpour fades, and the pact is made.

Isrukam gingerly picks up four tiny silver bells from the blood-slick ground, no doubt fallen from the demon during their skirmish, and hands them out to the group. One to to Vana, accompanied with a polite bow of his head, one to Tewi, with a smile and hand on his shoulder, and a third to Rose, given politely but at something of a distance.

"These bells are of you, and you of them; when you hear them ring, we will have need of you," he says to Zsofika, before turning to Enlil and speaking a word of gratitude for his assistance.

Spoiler

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Gained [+4m] for the stunt, and spent [10m, 1wp] for the Eclipse Anima power.

[AmberVael]

Of Kites and Flutes

Disgust flickers across Vana's face at the results of Isrukam's work and words. Yet, seeing as Rose stood with him, still lusting for blood, she decides to keep her protest silent for now. It was easy to see when the audience didn't favor her- wait until the stage was right, and then, then she could change things.

Vana will brush past Rose and Isrukam, reasserting her presence as she offers a hand to Zsofika. "On your feet." She suggests quietly, not commanding or rebuking with the words. "The prey doesn't wait for the hunter." A simple reminder of identity, and a gesture of respect- for now, that's all Vana offers.

[Gargulec]

Things Lost and Broken

The urchin stepped back from the abyssal, his eyes filled with dread.

'Don't....' he managed to utter before the Daybreak's mind exploded in whispers.

His mouth opened without him even understanding what was happening, and a stream of words that one could see as shadows but not hear, for they were profane beyond the mortal senses sprouted forward, drinking even the spiteful light of Ligier, towards the boy. The shadows shrouded him, muffling his horrified screams as the will of the undying Titans tore his little soul to tiny shreds and then dragged them back into the Abyssal's body, were the necrotic essence of his Black Exaltation would slowly feast on them, using the anguished screams of the child's sentience's vestige as the most exquisite of all drinks.

When the shadows withdrew, the body limped to the floor, lifeless, eyes empty - though if one would gaze into them with enough intensity and intent, the Whispers of the Neverborn would crawl into the back of his mind, to drive him slowly insane. There was something deeply tragic, yet beautiful about how his corpse seemed untouched, unbroken in contrast to his soul so ultimately crushed.

Jania, meanwhile, inspected the forge with utmost efficiency and found nothing extraordinary. Nothing was amiss here, nothing.

[Zoronos]

The Visits

There was a drunk demon on his lap, with her arm around his neck. This was unexpected. In the future, he needed to remember how low demonic alcohol tolerances were. Furthermore, there was someone downstairs waiting to see him. He should see to that... the faint smell of spice was almost overpowering. A man could drown in that scent if he wasn't careful. One could inhale deeply and then forget forever to come up for air and breath. No, he had to keep his head clear. No matter the warmth of the creature on his lap, or her beauty, or the feel of her breath on his neck... No. Things to do. She may be intoxicated by the drink, but he needn't be intoxicated by her.

Seeing as how the demon had practically leapt onto his lap, he shifted slightly, to stabilize her weight. It wouldn't do to drop her onto the floor. Bartrand looped an arm around her waist, and pulled her close for a moment. He looked past her and out the window again as he spoke quietly into her ear. "So, you'd have me rule as a tyrant, terrible and fell, lording over a cowed populace? You're right, they would still worship me. Now they look to me out of hope, but yes, even in fear they would still look to me. There is a certain symmetry to it. For now, let them hope. So long as it serves my purposes, I see no reason to take that from them.

With a small gesture, Bartand plucked the second flute from the table, the one he had been drinking from and which was still a bit over half full. He placed it into the demon's hand, and with a minor effort, Bartrand looped his other arm underneath the small demon's legs and picked her up as he stood. "I will render that hunter for you, and perhaps yes, we shall drink it together. But in the mean time, we must go see who is waiting in my front room."

With a sweeping movement, Bartrand proceeded down the steps to the front room, the demon cradled in his arms. He thought to himself how this must look exceedingly strange. Unfortunately, dropping her or denying her would likely result in her attempting to drag him back to her forge. Perhaps he'd emerge victorious in such a fight, but he did not want to take such chances. Being hammered into some piece of artifice was not really the fate Bartrand wanted. And furthermore, who would possibly be waiting in his front room? He didn't get many visitors.

[Sallera]

Of Kites and Flutes

A low whistle escapes Tewi as buildings crumble, bearers fall, and the street fills with blood. That is one flashy oath. He accepts the bell with a neutral expression, eyes flickering to the fallen demon. Still, what kind of person demands servitude after winning one fight? From the look of it, Vana wasn't particularly impressed either, although that might just be from the tide of blood. He hoped Amalion wouldn't worry too much about the state of her petitioners' clothing.

I suppose having the right to call on her could be useful once in a while... but I'd better not use it unless I need to. Nothin' in that agreement that keeps her from making trouble for us. Maybe I should find out what she wanted, too, see if I can get on her good side. Tucking the bell away with a shrug, he nods to Isrukam and Rose and moves past them to Zsofika. "If you don't mind me askin', what was it you sought us out for?"

[Dragnar]

Jania abandoned her search slightly early as the abyssal... She wasn't even sure WHAT he just did. Nor did it make any sense. He was interrogating the poor kid one second, and murdering him the next. She took a few steps away form the scene as she hurriedly tried to decide what to do, before deciding to simply stay quiet. Watching the abyssal with narrowed eyes, she waited for him to make the first move, be it some further madness, or some explanation.

[Volthawk]

Fury also had his own boiling rage - how dare he come into this wedding, making his threats and insinuations! Unlike the Infernal, however, Fury didn't let it bide away. He didn't plan to - in fact, using that rage was part of how he fought. The rage boiling over, Fury charges at the Infernal, a swift barrage of toxic claw with enough pure, raw force to send the Infernal flying away from the wedding and the shrine.

Spoiler

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Action: Flurrying attacks on the Infernal and activating Relentless Lunar Fury - also activating Impressions of Strength (with the Mighty Ram Practice edge) and Wasp Sting Blur as they are Fury-OK. Altogether, it costs 5 motes and 1 Willpower, and lasts eight actions. Altogether, it's Speed 4 (Shredders have Speed 4, and RLF is Reflexive).

Attack 1: (23d10)[1][1][5][4][5][9][8][9][2][7][10][8][7][4][3][6][1][3][4][2][10][9][2](120) + 1 success = 12 successes
Damage: successes+14L/5
Extra effects: Inflicts poison (5L/action, 2, –/–, -2), and also causes knockback (with the distance increased by a yard)

Attack 2: (22d10)[8][3][7][1][2][8][7][3][6][8][4][4][9][7][1][7][6][8][10][8][3][4](124) + 1 success = 13 successes
Damage: successes+14L/5
Extra effects: Inflicts poison (5L/action, 2, –/–, -2), and also causes knockback (with the distance increased by a yard)

Attack 3: (21d10)[3][9][4][7][6][6][2][10][7][7][8][1][8][1][6][6][1][1][2][3][5](103) + 1 success = 9 successes
Damage: successes+14L/5
Extra effects: Inflicts poison (5L/action, 2, –/–, -2), and also causes knockback (with the distance increased by a yard)

Combat block:
Used attacks: Silver Shredders
Speed: 4 | Acc: 26 | Damage: +14L/5 | Parry DV: 10 | Rate: 3 | Inflicts poison (5L/action, 2, –/–, -2); knockback (+1 yard to distance)

Soak: 43B/42L/20A
Hardness: 10B/10L

Motes:
Personal: 19/22 (0 committed)
Peripheral: 30/30 (16 committed)

Willpower: ????? ??

Health levels:
-0 [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]
-1 [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]
-2 [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]
-4 [ ]
X [ ]
Dying [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]

Charms active:
Gift charms:
Claws of the Silver Moon (Basic natural attack gains Speed +0, Accuracy +8, Damage +7L/5, Defence +0, Rate +0; can parry lethal attacks without a stunt; 3m committed)
Armour-Forming Technique (+15B/15L/5A soak, counts as armour; 5m committed)

Warform mutations:
Armoured Body (+4B/4L soak, +4 die to Survival rolls)
Talons (punches deal +2L damage)
Night Vision
Toxin (Silver Shredders inflict poison, (5L/action, 2, –/–, -2)
Third Eye (+1 to all Awareness rolls)
Enhanced Senses [sight] (+2 to Awareness rolls related to sight)
Tail (+2 to Athletics rolls)

Relentless Lunar Fury:
1 automatic success to all combat actions
Ignore -1 wound penalties
Physical Attribute Excellency cap is (Attribute+Essence), so 9

Impressions of Strength (activated with RLF):
Mighty Ram Practice: Targets of attacks have to check against knockback, knockback distance is increased by one yard.

Wasp Sting Blur:
All attacks have their Speed reduced by one.

[DaWrecka]

Things Lost and Broken

The Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies found himself taken completely by surprise. He hadn't even been expecting the child to know anything of use, but he certainly wasn't expecting the child's death. He felt no particular sorrow, but it had come so unexpectedly that he had no idea what to do. "What... what just happened?" he asked of the uncaring air, still reeling mentally.

[MrPrim]

Silver and Gold! Siiilver and Gooold!

Oriasta edged away from the battle, holding her staff out in front of her (seemingly more to measure the distance between she and the battling warriors than to actively defend herself).

”They should stop this, she muttered, probably not even audibly enough to be heard by Min, “This is a wedding. Why do Exalts always end up fighting? It’s so… dumb!”

Spoiler

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Action: NO ACTION!

Combat block: Dodge DV 7
Soak: 4B/4L
Hardness: -

Motes:
Personal: 70/80 (0 committed)

Willpower: 10/11

Health levels:
-0/ 4
-1/ 10
-2/ 9
-4/ 1

Charms active: None.

[Odd_Canuck]

Punch stands. Head still bowed, rice bowl in his left hand, he is motionless. Even as Fury's claws lash out next to him and the interloper reacts, he merely stands as unmoving and apparently breathless as a statue. The guests that come from Bordertown, or even The Forge itself stir themselves to rapid actions. Those that have heard of Punch being like this before edge closer to get a better look. Those that have seen it, be it when his authority was challenged or worse when he was called to judge a dispute, start moving away or ducking under cover. Three of the guests react most strongly, an Air Elemental, Dragon Blooded and Mortal Savant as they note that Punch has drawn a rice bowl. A whisper of "Oh High Holy Hell, not the rice!" leaves the lips of Trismagistus the Savant as he and the other two immediately turn and run behind the large brass slabs that were set up as a decorative wall. Throwing dignity aside, Trismagistus barely avoids ripping his best suit on the edge as he dives for cover. Somewhere on the third layer of Malfeas a demon makes a chalk mark upon a board, recording the fact of his prayer.

To any that don't know him, it might well seem that Punch is not concerned about the Infernal before him... that maybe he is ignoring him, or doesn't even consider the man worth fighting. A studied insult to the man? Perhaps one might assume that. They would be wrong, but they might assume it just the same.

Spoiler

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Yes, I'm trying to stunt standing still. ;)

I'm effectively Holding Action until the Infernal picks a target.

Secondary action is from the Arms of Multiple Manipulation (not currently visible)



Combat block: 9
Primary Action: Defend Other on Min
Secondary Action: Defend Other on Oriasta

Soak:
Bashing:19 (22 vs CoD) Vs Piercing is 11/14
Lethal:14 (17 vs CoD) Vs Piercing is 8/11
Aggravated:13 Vs Piercing is 7

Hardness:
Bashing: 5
Lethal: 5

Essence:
Personal: 19 /19
Peripheral: 22 /27 (13 Attuned)

Willpower: 10 / 10

Health:
-0 [ ][ ][ ]
-1 [ ][ ][ ][ ]
-2 [ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ]
-4 [ ]
X [ ]

[Gargulec]

Silver and Gold Span the Infernal Heaven

Fury's savage attacks struck the impudent Infernal squarely into his chest, the strength of the Luna's chosen tearing the Slayer off the ground, launching him up, into the sky, so high that the gathered quickly lost any sight of him.

That is, until a green bonfire exploded above their heads.

With a thunderous roar, he came crashing down like a comet or a meteor, his body momentarily turned into pure basalt. He smashed into the ground, the brazen floor cracking under the sheer power of the impact, a shockwave of emerald fire blowing the tables and the shrine into splinters, throwing guests and exalts to the ground.

The cloud of powdered stone and steel raised, and within, a second green sun was blazing.

'Now' you heard a furious sneer 'you really managed to **** me off.'

He strode forth, the whip in his hand split into dozens of jagged, shadowy tendrils, each of them hungry for pain. His face was a mask of sheer terror now, the devils bound within now dancing openly in his burning eyes as a viridian wisps, dark ichor dripping from his pointed teeth showcased in a wide grin.

'You defend her, Solar, don't you? he asked, cackling mirthlessly and cracking the whip once, twice. 'But you can't be everywhere... others will suffer for her, then!'

His arm swung, the coiling darkness that was his whip biting into his own shadow, disappearing in it, only to emerge the same moment from beneath Oriasta, throwing itself at her, wrapping around the goddess body, biting deeply into it. The tendrils forced her hands to the sides, coiled around her neck, threatening to strangle or snap any second.

Spoiler

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Swords of Hell Right activates Slayer's anima power. He parries first and third Fury's strike and Ablates of Brass and Fire the second. Unless you are immune to Emotion effects or pay 5 WP, all attacks again him are at -1 external penalty.

Clinch attempt against Oriasta.
(29d10)[2][3][4][4][4][1][9][2][4][1][4][7][7][5][9][1][7][2][8][7][8][9][2][1][10][1][1][4][4](131)

Tick #0 Fury
Tick #1
Tick #2
Tick #3
Tick #4 Oriasta
Tick #5 Punch
Tick #6 Sword of Hell Right, Fury
Tick #7
Tick #8
Tick #9
Tick #10 Punch
Tick #11
Tick #12 Swords of Hell Right

Of Kites and Flutes

Taking Vana's hand, Zsofika lifted herself from the bloodied, wrecked pavement. For a hearbeat, she met the Solar's eye, and there was a gleaming of respect in her sight. 'You understand' she seemed to wordlessly say.

She accepted the bells with a nod, tying them to a piece of string hanging from her wrist, making them into a short chain. It chimed, as before, but the tune was no longer ominous, vicious, predatory... there was a note of chains clicking, manacles being shut within their jingling now. The Kite Flute sighed, turning to Rose, forcing her face to not show emotions writhing inside.

'We shall take the road of Jacint, then' she announced. 'The Silent Wind cleared them of rabble not long ago, no one should block our path.'

Last droplets of the blood rain fell to the ground, splattering on the crimson river's surface. Where mere few moments ago, a fiefdom stood, now only darkening gore flowed, taking with its current what little remained of the street. Silence descended upon the once-dominion, disturbed only by the distant rumble of the Demon-City.

'I wanted to see your prowess' she murmured silently, gazing around at the ruin of what was hers. Her words resounded with bitterness 'that is why I brought you here, child of Danna'd. And you proved your might' she sighed again, her eyes starring deeply into her own face reflecting on the moonsilver's blade surface she gripped tightly 'Weapons of the Gods.'

She twisted the sword in her hand, breaking the reflection.

'What I wanted to ask' she said to Tewi and Vana maybe a bit less venomous, less hateful 'is something I wish I would not be forced to reveal in such... place' she obviously glanced at Rose and Isrkuam.

She sighed for the third time, and with a sharp gesture, grabbed what remained of her once terrifying mane, pulling the hair back.

'I need a knife' she hissed, as if in fury over herself.

[MrPrim]

Oriasta gasped, twisting to avoid the Infernal’s attack. Her movements were inhumanly precise, though obviously unaccustomed to real battle, but even so the attack was too quick, too precise, too brutal. At the last moment, the goddess pushed Min away from her as the shadow whip bit, wrapping around her throat and pulling tightly.

Now, perhaps choking her wasn’t the most efficient use of the Infernal’s energy, since, of course, she didn’t breath. But it was uncomfortable and terrifying, and the glittering green fire of the Infernal blazed so hot and so near. She glanced back at Min for just a moment, fighting against the terrible whip. She was no help to anyone here, not to Min, Punch, or Fury… but still, the thought of what she was about to do still made her feel ashamed.

”I’m sorry,” she said to the Exalted, as she vanished in a puff of lotus petals.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Now, if you happened to be some distance away from the fighting, on the island of the gods, and you happened to be walking down just the right avenue, you might (MIGHT) have heard sobbing coming from somewhere nearby,perhaps inside a beautiful sanctum made of glass that shimmered in the eerie green light.

But this is Hell. And such things are to be expected.