Oasis is Hell - Exalted 2ed - IC

[oramus]

On occasion, despite his aptitude in relating to other people, Isrukam finds himself at a loss as to why people act the way they do. Now was one of those times. The reactions of his companions leave him looking visibly crestfallen as he ponders what could be going through their minds; do they not realise that the lives of Creation's survivors hangs by a thread? That they will sleep safer knowing that a huntress helps protect them rather than stalks them? Isrukam shrugs to himself. No, they probably do not. It didn't matter as long as he kept the safety of Oasis in mind first and foremost, and that was exactly what he was going to do.


Isrukam follows quietly in the wake of Vana's showboating, absentmindedly singing along to the music and altering his pace to match the rhythym. Again he stops during the journey to make conversation with any demons that he recognises from previous dealings, be they official or otherwise; the importance of maintaining a presence amongst the demonic communities could not be overstated. There were many important things to know regarding the regions of Malfeas surrounding Oasis, things which other people seemed to have neglected to discover.

Questions needed to be asked carefully and of the right person. As Isrukam moves from demon to demon, he maintains his appearance of being open and friendly; an omnipresent smile, immaculate observation of local customs and unobtrusive conversation on topics that demonkind regularly speak about. These disarming qualities draw attention away from Isrukam's calculating eyes, eyes that quickly size up what each demon might know and how likely they are to say it. And woven into banal conversation about Hell's weather and other gossip are seemingly innocent questions that are in fact double agents, all part of a subtle campaign of verbal espionage waged against the unwitting demon. Each victim adds a piece to the puzzle, and soon Isrukam finds out all that he wanted to know.

It is when Enlil draws Isrukam's attention to the army that his heart skips a beat and he stops in his tracks. They were maybe a few hours from Oasis; what where they doing here? He looks on as Vana attempts to dance with the troop's leader, shocked at her apparent lack of concern, waiting to see what will happen.

Spoiler

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Isrukam will try a Man+Soc to uncover any relevant information about the areas around Oasis.

Manip+Socialise: (7d10)[5][1][2][6][5][8][1](28)
If I can use my specialty, add this: (1d10)[1](1)

[Flare]

Rose grinned at the slicing of Zsofika's hair, but she did not let it fall. As it was thrown by the demon, her hands flashed out and gripped as much as she could, wrapping the strands and their bells in her clenched fists. "Do not waste...such valuable things." she chided the demon, gripping the hair and wrapping it in her fingers. "Our land is poor and in need of everything. Throwing things away does more harm then good." she explained, as they kept walking. She didn't ask for the knife back, and instead followed the group through the area, impressed with Vana's abilities to command so much. When the strange man appeared, Rose only inclined her head.

"...Swordsman." she replied, having no idea who this man was

[Volthawk]

Despite the toll on his mind, a few thoughts get through. One is that the being that fear and awe of had been skewed into his mind was here surrendering. The other was something he had been told years back, when he was a mortal: You need to deal with your fears, to stand up to them.

Fury rises and walks over to the Infernal. He then puts a claw to his throat, and rips it out.

Spoiler

Show

An attack, I guess.

Attack: (21d10)[9][3][6][9][7][3][1][4][9][6][10][8][2][3][7][4][1][6][1][10][8](117)
Damage: successes+14L/5
Extra effects: Inflicts poison (5L/action, 2, –/–, -2)

[Odd_Canuck]

Silver and Gold Span the Infernal Heaven

Picking up the tattered remnant of a tablecloth, one of the essence arms that so recently injured the Infernal quickly turns into a pen and scrawls a notification of duly witnessed loss in bright Azure ink and sets it in front of the Infernal.

Raising his voice, Punch calls out "Fluffy?" to the gathered crowd and after a moment an Agata separates itself and flies over looks at Punch quizzically. Indicating the paper Punch requests "Take to temple later?" With a buzzing nod from Fluffy, Punch turns the bulk of his attention to the now injured crowd.

Converting his essence arms into dispensers of genesis crafting speed sealing tape he starts to use it to stop the blood loss of the injured, starting with the mortals*.


*-because they tend to bleed to death easily.

[Gargulec]

Silver and Gold Span the Infernal Heaven

As the Full Moon approached, the Infernal wiped the blood from his mouth, grimacing. He had more insults in store, and seemed so assured of his own survival now.

'You...' he begun, but his voice was cut short, and for a moment, he knelt there, blood sprouting from his throat. He did not raise hands to cover it the gaping hole, he did not even twitch as if the pain had no access to his mind, only starring at his slayer with those eyes of him, the devils inside so hateful, so bitter. It took him a long, long moment to finally hiss his last and fall face down onto the brass. His corpse started to sizzle almost instantly, the skin sloughing up and burning, even though there was nothing that could cause that here. Soon, only the bare bones remained, inlaid with verdigrass: you had no idea how. The shadowy whip coiled around them, crushing them with a nasty, grinding sound, as if wishing to obliterate all trace of its fallen master.

'Thank you' Min uttered, her voice stifled and pained. You turned to see her kneeling by yet another corpse, with a pair of long shards of shadow sticking out her chest, dissolving in the air. She was looking at it, expressionless. Gently, she stroked the corpse's face, shutting its eyes, and standing up, slowly, as if she had to raise a great weight. 'Love' she called to Punch 'my sister needs your help.'

Her face was pale, but eyes perfectly dry. She was not moving, starring at the sun, her lips moving in a wordless prayer.

Grimnir

In the light of the essence sight, Malfeas looked magnificent: veins of viridian power crossing the sky, converging around the endlessly deep maelstrom of power that was Ligier: ambient essence dancing in the sky to the tune that only the fallen Primoridals could hear or play.

The blossoming flowers were a marvel too: the delicate flows of life in them made obvious, the strength hidden within revealed. Even the buzzing bees were splendours: wisps of gold trailing the most delicate, argent mist behind.

As for the stranger named Grimnir: he was odd, to say at the very least: his body was outlined with a thin stripe of white glow, yet inside there was nothing but blackness, as if there was no essence to him whatsoever, nothing inside. As if he was empty.

'Help me?' he asked, and his words burned as Old Realm characters in the middle of his nothingness, apparently the only thing within him that had a proper form. 'No, no, no. I can't ask for that, not of one such as you.'

A thing red line crossed his face, forming a smile on the backdrop of blackness. 'But I want to help you, to take away your tears...'

[Zoronos]

The Visits

Bartrand smiled at the demon's quick recovery. "I am glad you are feeling better. As to your question, no, the standards of the Creation-born aren't all that different from the standards of Malfeas. There are plenty of sons of Creation that would have either taken advantage or simply left, just as you'd expect from a citizen of Malfeas. Life there could be just as brutish as it is here, depending on where you look."

Bartrand moved to sit on the edge of the bed, near her knees, munching for a second on a piece of toast. "Yesterday, we spoke of god kings and tyrants, of hope and of fear. All forms of power. But the most important of those is just the same here as it is in Creation. The power to live as you choose; the power to be who you are without someone else forcing you to live according to their rules."
Bartrand stood and smiled down at the demon, still swathed in the cobalt-blue robe. "I choose to adhere to my own standards, and no others. So long as I have that choice, I have the only power that matters."

He stood and with a quick turn of his heel,he proceeded out of his room, pausing only for a moment to pull a set of clothes out of his closet for himself.

He ducked into the bathroom in the front hall to bath quickly and change, then went looking for his new apprentice. The alchemy bench of the workshop seemed most likely, so he looked for and found her there. He clasped his hands behind his back, and looked down at her. "You need a name. But as you demonstrated, there is a certain futility in my simply giving you one. So, you must choose one for yourself. Moreover, you must earn one for yourself. I want you to craft something that is truly yours. If it is good enough, then you shall have earned a name and a place in my workshop. Do you have any questions?"

[DaWrecka]

Things Lost and Broken

The Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies had been about to state the purpose of their journey when the Jadeborn pipped him at the post. With a mental shrug he closed his lips. He had no particular aversion to letting her take the lead on this. There was little he could contribute to the situation as it stood right now. Intimidating as he was, he was honest-enough with himself to admit that the enormous Dragon King at his side far outstripped him in that regard, and he doubted he would be any more useful at gathering information . The thug in front of him seemed not to be eager to start a fight... Unsurprising, but no less disappointing to the deathknight. He was not sure immediately what he could contribute to this search, but he stood to gain much.

First among such gains, he made a mental note about this place. It seemed lawless. The perfect place for him to acquire a new experimental subject. Yes, even if he failed to learn why this Solar was so important to the cause, this trip was definitely worthwhile. Perhaps it might even be worth moving his operations to this... Port Wrath... once the current situation was resolved...

Still, he could not let himself become so enamoured with future possibilities that he lost sight of the present. Affecting a bored look, he cast his gaze across the area, attempting to mentally-catalogue all of the nooks and crannies from which unexpected attack could come...

[Gargulec]

Things Lost and Broken

Thug's eyes moved from Jania to the Dragon-King and then onto Jania again, and then onto Artificer. He stepped back, sighing in irritation.

'Looking for a Solar, have a giant liz...' he begun to mutter, and that was a mistake.

The anklok moved with a reason-defying speed, clinching his clawed hand around the hapless thug's throat, and massive force jerked him from the ground, into the air.

'Do not call me a lizard' the definately not-lizard snarled, shaking the offender as if he weighted nothing 'LEST YOU'LL INVOKE MY WRATH!'

The two flunkies apparently decided that was not worth their time, disappearing between the tents without a word, and with a truly impressive speed. Their boss, however, could only dangle, his limbs swinging.

'Listen' he managed to wheeze 'I want nothing to do with you, search for your Solar as much as you would want...'

'DO I LOOK LIKE A LIZARD TO YOU?!' the magnificent roar echoed through the Port Wrath, making at least few paranoid individuals reach for their blades in fear that some sort of strange malfean monster attack. The Dragon-King glanced at Jania, raising the mortal a bit higher.

'No, of course you don't!' the sheer terror in the once-arrogant thug's voice was truly impressive. Your definitely-not-lizard companion hissed - likely some sort of laughter.

'Listen to the pathetic-human, essence human' he bellowed, tossing the traumatized man behind him. The short yelp of pain meant that he managed to avoid hitting any of the tents and instead just hit the ground. 'He got it right. Now, we shall shake this place up and see who has seen the thieving-essence-human!'

With such a bold declaration, he strode forward, directly into the large tavern-shack before you.

They noticed your entry almost immediately: it was hard to miss a huge Dragon-King with a blissfully smiling flame duck on the shoulder, flanked by a mantled zombie and a jadeborn. Port Wrath was home to all manners of oddities, but not everyday a mere tavern was invaded by such a party.

With a number of heads turned at you, the silence fell over the place. Even the fist-fight going on in the middle, by the fire stopped, with the combatants - a pair of burly man who looked so similiar that they could have been twins - ceasing their hostilities to asses whether you meant troubles.

It was not exactly crowded: a twenty patrons in various stages of drunkenness sitting on the mats and rugs on the ground, the owner who was actually in the middle of arming an oversized flame-piece and a lone neomah, wrapped in a white mantle, not paying any attention to you, just starring motionlessly at the drink in front of her.

'Here to drink?' the owner asked, raising the weapon and aiming it at the ankolk's head. His voice had a very strong southern accent 'or cause trouble?'

The Visits

For a moment, she appeared not to notice Mar peeking on her, too occupied with pestling calcified dreams into fine powder within a jade mortar. The bench before her was strewn with ripped pages covered in a web-like scribbling. Something was bubbling on a fire, and a few vials of reagents have been already filled with something that was definitely not reagents. At her feet, and open tome lied, and she was reading a formula from it while her hands automatically worked with the mortar and pestle.

'Oh, Lord' he snapped out, bowing her head, running her hand through the dream-dust to see if it was fine enough. 'I apologize, I was working on that hangover cure, but it appears that gossamer may have some negative side-effects on the demons...'

She moved the mortar from her lap, putting it somewhere without really looking, and knocking a single vial of her to the floor, where it promptly shattered, releasing a foul-smelling liquid that quickly begun to fill its vicinity with a thick smoke.

'...that is mostly it causes them to enter a deep narcotic trance' she murmured, flipping through the tome - apparently a set of astrological tables for malfean sky 'that might have been to the fact that we are working under Signus the Misfortunate, yes, but you see...' she grabbed one of the torn pages and showed it to you 'this is not the entirety of reason. If my calculations are correct, working cure on a demon hangover can be created from gossamer mixed with powdered orichalcium dissolved in a solution of frozen azoth under astrological conditions that happen once every hundredth Callibration. But it would surely work, then...'

[Zoronos]

The Visits

Bartrand put his hand to his head. Gossamer? Powdered Orichalcum? She had clearly missed some vital steps in her instruction.

Bartrand drew in a deep breath, and in a resonating voice bellowed out "STOP." His single word seemed to shake the entire laboratory. Once the chamber finished echoing from his exclamation, he sat down at the bench next to the young alchemist. He sighed, drawing breath in sharply. "I appreciate the fervor with which you pursued the task I asked of you, but the situation has already been righted. Clearly, you weren't listening to my prior statement, but we can put that off for another today. So, today, I want to relate something my father told me when I was learning at his workbench. If one pinch of firepowder will do, never use two. I realize that sounds strange, so let me explain. When using Firedust, if you use it just right, you'll get precisely the reaction you wish. If you use too much, you're likely to just blow up everything you were trying to do."

Bartrand put on a heavy glove and picked up the broken vial, throwing it into the trash bin. "What you are doing is using too much firedust for the problem. Small problems only need small solutions." Bartrand paused to examine the dishes she had produced. "Do you understand? Yes? Good. Now, that brings us to the second lesson of the day. Never underestimate the usefulness of an accident. Tell me, you created this powder that produces a deep narcotic trance in demons. How cheap is it to produce, and can it be mass produced?"

[DaWrecka]

Things Lost and Broken

Privately, the Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies allowed himself to smile at the actions of the Dragon King and the reaction of the thugs. He could almost see himself getting along with this lizard, he thought to himself as they entered the tavern.

He was not terribly-happy with the response from inside, but it hardly surprised him. "We are here to procure information," he said, before calmly drawing his daiklave and stepping in front of the Dragon King. "And if we must 'cause trouble' to achieve that goal, then we shall." He lowered the weapon slightly. "But if we can learn what we need without violence, then we shall." If there was any other meaning to his words and actions, he left it unsaid.

[MrPrim]

Grimnir

"I..," Oriasta said, blushing slightly in embarrassment, her green cheeks turning a sort of lilac color, "Thank you for your concern, but I will be alright. I...." she paused for a moment, not sure what to reveal to this strange man, and then, with a shrug... decided to just go for it.

"I was ashamed," Oriasta muttered, "And afraid. An Exalt tried to destroy me, and I only barely managed to escape. He's probably still back there killing other people...."

[Odd_Canuck]

Silver and Gold Span the Infernal Heaven

"Living first." Punch offers as he starts taping people up quickly to prevent any other deaths. Periodically grunting and pointing while looking pointedly at the able-bodied guests quickly results in the injured being taped up, stabilized and transported. Maybe it's the glowing cobalt eyes, the fact that his armor creaks and groans with stress as his muscles continue to bulge and flex, or the fact that he looks at anyone that complains about doing work with an expression of impending death that motivates them, they are all motivated just the same.

The injured cared for, Punch quickly directs the remaining gods, exalted and mortals to pile the remaining debris into three piles, some distance apart. Dismissing the remains of The Swords of Hell Right with a brief surge of pure essence, he gathers up the whip and hands it to Min with a statement of "Remember.". Pausing for a moment he gives her a quick hug before continuing.

Gently placing the three bodies upon the three pyres, Punch stands before the first with arms upraised. "Remember" is whispered as the body and pyre are lit on fire with essence, bringing the spirit to it's destination. The second body is likewise lit with the offering of "Remember".

Standing before Min's sister, Punch bows his head for a moment. He motions for the crowd to move back from such. Crouching down for a moment, the observant see a small drop of moisture hit the ground at his feet, maybe it was merely a drop of sweat from his brow... maybe. He leaps straight into the air... twenty feet straight up. The essence arms coming out of his back once again shift form to some sort of yeddim-sized tools. They hit the ground before he does, surrounding the pyre. The earth quakes violently, shaking many guests to the ground as the pyre and the ground around it explode upward and explode into a fireball. The guests see a giant wall of fire flare up and out to the heavens. Those further away see the giant green and blue form of a firebird flare upward into the sky. The observant see the firebird form has a small human figure where it's heart should be, one that is burned away with brilliant gold flames as it flies to the heavens and disperses.

Turning back to the crowd, Punch nods slowly and starts walking towards the city.

Spoiler

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Using Craftsman needs no tools (7m, 1wp) to speed the action of using explosive fracking tools from the arms of multiple manipulation to make a large pit and render the material freed into an aerosolized form, which is then lit on fire for a proper funeral.

[Gargulec]

The Visits

The girl swallowed, and nodded, closing the tome on her lap and dropping it to the ground again.

'That... that makes sense' she admitted, looking with a faint bit of sorrow on the long line of the byproducts of her experimentation. She took a long sip from an elaborate, exceptionally silver-and-jet cup she had on the bench... and Mar was quite sure he never had something like that in his drawers. 'I apologize for the wasted resources, Lord'

Her eyes were set at the cup, at the intricate scene carved into it. From where he was standing, Mar could see only parts of it, and it did not make any sense - there was combat and love, and it was just... off. As if the entire scene was made of thousands of tiny fragments that just did not fit itself.

'As for the powder...' she snapped out quickly 'now, it is not hard to render, I just need gossamer, copper and a vitriol treated mortar, as this one' she made a gesture towards the tool 'I can produce it quickly, but I am unsure on the exact effects... if I had the demons to test it on, though...'

'Is that all you are here for' sharp voice cut her mid-sentence, and clicking of heel heralded the arrival of the Keeper of the Forge of Night. She was clad in her dress again, looking as immaculate as before that... unfortunate events of the last night. Only her eyes were narrowed, set at your assistant, her hands set widely apart, shadows converging between them, hundreds of obsidian butterflies batting their razor-sharp wings against the demon's grasp, ready to be released 'Wandering Eye?'

The Cup girl held in her hands flickered out of existence in a hearbeat, her face darkened as she jumped back, dropping into an elegant stance, pair of long, curved knives appearing in her hands from nowhere, gleaming with all the hues of Wyld in the darkness.

'How know you?' she asked, and no longer was absent-mindness reflected in her voice, now it was sharp and honed, as the keen edges of her blades.

Grimnir

The smile faded from the blackness, after-image persisting for a few moments.

'Weakness is something we can defeat' he said, the voice growing deep. 'I can show you how... but that will cost you.'

Oriasta felt as his hand - cold in touch, as gnarled as his face - reached towards her, open palmed, inviting.

'I can show you how' he stated again, with a profound pressure put on each word 'take my hand... and just remember the things you can lose. This is not a high price, but a price nonetheless. Your innocence... your grace... your blissful ignorance you may need to surrender.'

[Zoronos]

The Visits

Bartrand took a stumbling half-step backwards. What was going on here? Clearly, Alveua and this assistant had some history. Sure, he had reason to suspect some chicanery, since it was so incredibly odd for one so young to be so accomplished without being an exalt, but the hostility set him aback for a moment.

Thankfully, it was only for a moment. Bartrand took another step back, so as to be fully out of the line of fire between the two women. With one hand, he drew the crossbow which he kept slung across his back. The other hand made a single arcane gesture; the Mudra of Stabilization. A silent thunderclap filled the room and the very air seemed to flex and strain for an instant as a wave of golden light sloughed off of Bartrand. His eyes glowed with the Gold and Cobalt of his anima as his Will asserted its dominance over the fabric of reality.

His voice seemed to reverberate throughout the room as he spoke. "Before you two ladies try to tear each other apart, would you be so kind as to explain WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE GODS IS GOING ON? Why is a war about to break out in my workshop?"

Bartrand swung the crossbow up, but did not to point it at either of the women, though if you had to split hairs over it, it was more aimed towards the assistant than towards Alveua.

Spoiler

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Activating Chaos Repelling Pattern while the two women face off. Bartrand is staying just close enough so that the assistant is inside the zone of anti-shaping.

Personal: 22/22
Peripheral: 33 / 41 (+6 committed)
WP: 10/10

[Dragnar]

Jania hung back from the dragon king, standing against the back wall of the tavern to see what sort of reactions his rather blunt methods got. If things went well, great. If not, she would be out of the danger zone when things went south, and could try something more diplomatic. This lizard was going to be more trouble than he was worth, she could tell already...

[Gargulec]

Silver and Gold Span the Infernal Heaven

'Grand' the young Lunar whispered, coiling the shadowy tendril around her arm, allowing its serrated edges to cut into her skin, draw her blood. She did not concern herself with the warm trickle caused, the pyre-flame blazing in the reflection of her eyes. She was standing closer to the fire that she should have had, tremandous heat making her silver robe shrivel and come asunder, singing her, burning her hair and brow, but but not causing any real harm nor injury.

As the pyre with her sister's body was about to ignite, she made a quick step forward, and then the flame shrouded her, the outline of her body clearly cut against the backdrop of the inferno: she should be ablaze, but she was just standing there, her caste mark inexplicably more bright and brilliant than the fire of the malfaen brass.

She was standing there, in the middle of the pillar that shot high into the sky, the flame within mingling with the flame without, forging her, somehow. The shadow of the whip dripped, melted in the heat, and she called it to herself again, the argent glow binding it to her body, mixing it with her sister's ashes, as a reminder for the days to come.

The fireball burnt out, the flames died, and she stood there, unharmed, her robe shining with purified silver, her tattoos, only faint lines before now flashed and clear for all too see. And there was the shadow, too, wrought to her arms, bound as a second spiral of black twined with silver, struggling to find a release from the trap within the Lunar's body, but never finding it.

'Grand' she called again, stepping to Punch and wrapping an arm around him, reluctantly, as if she herself could not decide whether cling to emotions or shed them entirely. 'Let us go, love. The wedding is over.'

Spoiler

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Scene ends. 8XP for Punch and Fury. You also receive a bit of downtime to describe your actions and such, just enough to make a single XP purchase.

The Visits

'Oh, I know her' Alveua growled, the spell being prepared growing even more unstable in her nimble hands. Soon, she would have to release it.

'Oh, I know of her, too' the assitant smirked, crossing the knives before her, spitting on the pattern that muffled the shaping magic, as if to defy it.

'She came here, few hundreds years ago, looking the same she looks today' the demon begun, circling through the workshop 'seeking ingredients... and she crossed my path, so to' her voice lowered to a nasty sneer 'speak.'

'You just feel bad about having to beg' the assistant, whatever she was laughed back at her 'to a mere mortal to spare your laughable life, don't you? That must have been' it was her turn to smirk now 'disgracing.'

'Don't call yourself a mortal' Alveua snapped back at her immediately, breathing heavily and taking on a relaxed demeanour again 'and assume so much. You have not won then, you were not even close.'

'I happen to be a better liar than you are' the so-called Wandering Eye laughed earnestly at the attempt to dismiss her 'deceive yourself as much as it pleases you, demon.'

'One more word' the Keeper of the Forge of Night raised her clasped hands, the butterflies trapped inside blurring, so fast were their movements 'and I will make you pay' she stated very calmly, her words clearly indicating that she was not bluffing, not in a slightest.

'Try' the Wandering Eye chuckled, raising the knives in a parody of a salute.

The demon did not hesitate, not even for a heartbeat. Her hands opened, and a buzzing of wings momentarily filled the air, thousands of obsidian butterflies surging forth to obliterate the impudent girl.

But she only laughed, throwing the blades to the ground and spreading her arms wide open, azure light shimmering between them, shifting to a characteristic emerald hue and showering the workshop with radiance. The spell shattered, obsidian turned into sparks, the delicate alchemy implements ringing without a touch, the floor itself seemingly bursting into cold flame.

And then, as soon as it had begun, it ended, and the Wandering Eye panted heavily, Alveua staring at her with eyes wide open in shock, now knowing what to say.

[MrPrim]

Oriasta shrank back away from that extended blackness, that cold horrible hand reaching for her. She didn’t want to be afraid, she didn’t want to be weak… weakness was death in Hell. But she didn’t trust this person, didn’t trust outstretched hand, didn’t trust his strange words.

And if she gave up her grace, what would she even be?

”I think you should go,” she stated firmly, touching the table full of flowers and feeling the power of her estate running through her, ”I don’t know who you are, or why you’re here… but I really think you should go.”

[Zoronos]

The Visits

Bartrand could feel it even as it happened. The flows of essence strained at the edges of his awareness as they built themselves in preparation for the countermagic. The handiwork of the Primordials, writ upon the fabric of existence, spell shattering against spell. He wasted no time, for there was only an instant to spare.

As the spells collided and warped each other out of existence, he dashed between the two women. He placed a foot across the two knives that had fallen clattering to the ground in the moment that Wandering Eye had cast her countermagic. With one hand, he raised his crossbow to point at Wandering Eye's chest, and with the other, he raised an open hand toward Alveua in the universal 'stop' gesture. His words rang throughout the workshop once again, the tables clattering as his voice resonated throughout the chamber, "STOP. NOW." His voice rose greatly in volume, to carry throughout the entire manse,"MY MINIONS, COME, NOW. ALL PROTECTIONS FOR GUESTS ARE REVOKED, IF THEY ARE ENGAGED IN BATTLE."

He looked back and forth between the two women. "Both of you, enough. I will not have a war in my workshop, from either of you. The past is gone, and I do not have any concern for it. In a few moments, a large number of demons will be in this room, and will be quite happy to attack whomsoever decides to violate the peace. Now, we're going to be nice and calm, and talk about what is going on here."

He looked back and forth once more, checking if the two were about to come to blows once more. Speaking much softer, in a kind voice, Bartrand addressed the demoness at his back, "Alveua, I was carrying you asleep in my arms when Wandering Eye arrived. Had she wanted to kill you, she would have done so then, or while we both slept. I think a temporary cessation of hostilities is in order."

[Gargulec]

Things Lost and Broken

'Information' the grumbled, not lowering the weapon 'Now, do I look like a Ceci-dammed information broker to you?'

He spat on the sandy ground. The patrons, meanwhile, begun to subtly (or not really, in fact - being drunk seldom helps with finesse) moving towards the nearest exit... only to find it completely barred by anklok's wide chest.

'And yes, I know, you're going to kill me now for not being helpful, right?' he sighed gloomily 'that's how your kind rolls... screw this, at least I'll see my darling again.'

'You worry, brave-human!' to your endless surprise, the Dragon-Kings booming voice was full of respect 'You are brave to stand against us, armed! You have a spine... you would make a good sacrifice to the Sun! But now, we need an information on a thieving-essence-human who was here, recently!'

The man, apparently contented with the fact that the giant saurian deemed him a good sacrifice material lowered the flame-piece slightly.

'Thieving essence human?' he repeated, not understanding 'Your kind can steal essence now?'

[DaWrecka]

Things Lost and Broken

The Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies lowered Armoursmith's Despair just slightly. "What my saurian companion means is, we are seeking a Solar, a Twilight to be more precise, who apparently stole something valuable from him. She is... rather abrasive. I doubt she has earned herself many friends here. Her name is Arianna. What do you know of her passage?"

[Sallera]

Of Kites and Flutes

"Well, I'm no Lawgiver," replies Tewi, chuckling as Vana pulls the man into her dance, "but greetings all the same. Quite the force you've drawn up here." He snaps his fingers, generating a ringing fourth and a small spray of water droplets, as if in demonstration of his nature.

Of course, such small acts of showmanship aren't something he usually indulges in, but gazing at the demon through the fleeting cloud of fine drops provides much more insight than watching his army, and more trusted information than could be gained from his words. The brief gleam of a reflected image for the commander, a whorl of vapour drifting toward the factotum, an improbable series of refractions revealing the confidant, the momentary presence of the shape of the employer's face... it takes only a short attunement to his element to process the subtle information contained in the man's bearing, mien, and presence. This army was in their way, and although Vana's dance seemed to be handily dealing with that, he was still curious about what it was up to. Knowing whose fighting forces were headed where had the potential to make him a lot of money or save him a lot of trouble back in Creation, and he rather suspected that the latter, at least, held true here.

Spoiler

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Revelation of Associates Hunch, targeting the army's commander.

Perception + Investigation: (8d10)[3][8][2][8][9][8][4][9](51)

Personal: 8/11
Peripheral: 9/25
Willpower: 7/8

[Gargulec]

Of Kites and Flutes

The black swordsman bowed stiffly, raising a mailed fist so that his demons would rise, too - though they did so only with a great reluctance, still starring at Vana's breath-taking show. What they did miss - and the Night Caste only barely managed to notice - was the fact that Zsofika herself joined the dance, melding in, attuned to the beat so that no one would notice her unless he paid a special attention to the dancing extras - and who does, after all?

The street emptied, meanwhile, with common serfs and citizens disappearing silently into the side-alleys, the only sound coming from them being muffled footsteps and muffled prayers so that they would not catch attention on their flight between an army of blood apes and Lawgivers. Windows above your heads were shut, and a clear sound of a chains and bars being put into place accompanied those who dwelt in this street as they were locking themselves inside, out of swords and claws' reach.

'Lords Lawgiver and you' he offered a bit shorter bow to Tewi 'citizen. It is a most graceful of you to reward me with your noble presence...'

He was moving his eyes from you to his arm to the pommel of his sword, unsure on what to do - and unaware that Tewi already knew him: a favoured servant of Alveua, the Keeper of the Forge of Night, a member of the Inauspicious Eight, a circle of one the Hell's most talented sell-swords - his seven companions being named Flying Snow, Long Sky, Broken Sword, Gentle Wind, Splintered Shield, Endless Road and Forgotten Dust.

Isrukam's attempts, though, failed him, yielding no information that could be considered useful - maybe the demons were ordered not to reveal anything to strangers, maybe they were too terrified of the Solar to speak easily with him... and maybe, just maybe, those Erymathoi had been just too dumb.

'...but I must be on my way, for I am leading my forces to war' he said that in a tone that clearly indicated that he was not especially thrilled by the idea. 'Between Yozis and me, I'll reveal to you that I am to conquer the domain of the cursed hunter known as the Kite Flute, and bring her to my master to do with her as she pleases.'

The dancing demon in question did not miss a step, blurring amidst the standard bearers and dancers, just one of the crowd, just an extra...

Spoiler

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Tewi: 2 die stunt that succeeds. 4m or 1wp.

The Visits

'I am not expecting her to try to kill me' Alveua raised her arms in an universal gesture of abolishing any sort of intent to harm. 'I am, however, inclined to pay back in kind for the last time.'

The Wandering Eye did not deliver a cutting remark this time, panting heavily, eerie lights flickering on and off around her palms. The knives on the the floor flashed brightly and disappeared back into Elsewhere - apparently, the mysterious girl wanted to abstain from hostilites too - in no small part thanks to a Fervid Smith kicking down the door, carrying a hell-wand in his twisted hands, green smoke rising from the barrel being clear indication that this thing was about to go off any moment now. Whether it could cause any harm to any of the combatants was another matter entirely, but certainly it helped to calm people down.

'Okay' she finally muttered, grabbing herself a chair and sitting heavily on it, her arms dangling freely to her sides. 'You hold grudges for awfully long time, demon...'

'Bartrand' Alveua ignored her remark ostentatiously, turning her back on the fae. 'If you want to keep her as a toy, I'd advise caution, she bites... so just handle her to me, I need some flesh to forge.'

The Wandering Eye laughed loudly again.

Grimnir

He nodded, solemnly, as if understanding.

'One day' he mused, plucking a single blue rose 'there will come a day when you will have to pay for this. One day, what remains shall come asunder because of our own weakness. As is has already happened before, and as it will happen again.'

The essence outline of his shadow begun to wring itself free, motes shattering the bonds that held them. To eyes open to the material, it would appear as if he was slowly dissolving into white vapour that lasted for a moment within the sanctum's air before disappearing completely.

'Banish me, then' he continued, his voice growing faint and husky 'and I'll be vanished. But I can not be gone. We shall see...'

And then, in a puff of smoke, he was there no more, though his final words echoed still, ringing in Oriasta's ear as only truth could.

'another radiant day.'

The plucked rose fell to the ground, rooting itself under the strain of the goddess power.

[Zoronos]

The Visits

Bartrand sighed. Clearly, this wasn't going to be simple. He stepped back, so that he was next to Alveua, and put a soft hand on her arm. He spoke quietly to the demon, "Alveua, can you tell me what happened? I'd understand a lot better if you explained. It's me, you don't have to worry." He gave his best disarming smile, "I've already seen you drunk and disheveled today, I'm not going to think any worse of you, no matter what happened. Please, explain what is going on here." Bartrand turned, and gave his most imperious glare at The Wandering Eye. His meaning was clear; no interruptions would be tolerated.

[AmberVael]

Of Kites and Flutes

"I am afraid then, good sir, I must bring you unfortunate tidings." Replies Vana, with an expert show of sadness, bringing her dance to a momentary halt, kneeling before the commander, and placing a hand over her heart. "As we traveled to our own destination, we passed through Zsofika's fiefdom, but it is now no more."

"It seems your path has already been traveled by another, and you must return to Alveua empty handed." Vana extrapolates. "While it pains me to send such a message to your master, I advise her to make the best of it. Such was the destruction of that place, I believe pursuing the Kite Flute further might deal a grievous blow to her ultimate cause of harmony. Truly, any retaliation would likely be grave."

The lady smiles beatifically as she swirls back to her feet. "But should she desire my commiseration, or my ear, I would be quite willing to grant the illustrious keeper some of my time. One can often forge harmony even from the most trying of situations, after all, even if it is not quite the way one might expect."

"For now though, we should go our separate ways. I must continue my journey to Amalion, and I am sure your master would want my message carried to her swiftly." With this, Vana will bow gracefully, and then begin her dance once more, attempting to direct her procession through the army, either sliding between its ranks, or perhaps getting the army caught up in her performance and dragging a portion of it along with her.

[Flare]

Rose just sits quietly, having nothing really to do here. She settles for tapping the cover of her book some more in time with the music, waiting for this to be finished. Zsofika was clearly there dancing, so obviously if the man didn't want to see her, there was no reason for her to tell him they were there. So she waited, moving on when told to and otherwise not. She hummed a tune.

[MrPrim]

Grimnir

Oriasta waited until she was sure the interloper was gone, before her shoulders sagged, and the tension went out of her.

Oriasta sighed and sagged against a glittering glass wall. ”I hate this place,” she said to herself, pulling at the roots of her hair in frustration, confusion, and, above all, fear. ”I HATE IT!” she screamed, swinging her staff and smashing an (empty) pot.

Oriasta felt something pulling at the hem of her (now quite ruined) dress. A little creature, shaped quite a bit like a woodchuck but with hairless green skin, a large flower growing on its back, and huge expressive eyes stared up at her, making a concerned sort of cooing noise. Oriasta smiled despite herself and reached down to pet the little wood elemental, ”Well, at least I still have you, Chewy,” she said, poking the creature on the nose. Chewy cooed wildly and she lifted him up and began carrying him with her as she moved through the sanctum – checking to make sure her intruder hadn’t messed with anything.

[Volthawk]

Now that the fight is over, Fury focuses on himself. He'd taken a beating from that tentacle both physically and mentally during that fight, and he needed to recover. However, before that he had one last issue to sort out. That god the Infernal threatened...he felt he had to make sure she was all right. With that decided, Fury trudges over to the island of the gods.

[Gargulec]

The Visits

'Fine' the demon uttered slowly, taking a deep breath to relax, propping herself against a wall, arms crossed on her chest. 'This... abomination fled my anvil, few ages past... around the time your precious Creation almost, but not completely collapsed.'

A fervid smith - another one than the hellwand one - dutifully fetched Alveua a plate with a jug of szrenian wine. She reached for it, then with the corner of her eye noticed the amused smirk on the Wandering Eye's face, frowned and set the demon on his way.

'She was different back then, less ironic... grim and gloomy, so tastefully shadowy, with such a delightful darkness coiled around her' she muttered, putting a finger to her lip. 'She piqued my interest, so I've sent my minions to retrieve her so that I could shape her into something more fitting for the world we are raising from the ashes of fallen glory and which you, Bartrand' there was a sudden change in the pitch of her voice, not even a subtle one: a strange fire burning within her words as she spoke of forging the world asunder into the patter of Yozis' liking.

'And I decided that being put on an anvil and hammered into a blasted soulsteel parody' the Wandering Eye cut in, fiddling with a simple wooden ring she drew out of nowhere 'was something I'd rather avoid.'

'Silent, wretch' the demon hissed, annoyed 'you live still solely because I'd rather avoid having to force Bartrand to have his workshop cleaned of the bloody smear you would become.'

The strange fae-girl shrugged in response, resting her head on a shoulder as if she was about to take a nap.

'But yes, that wretch was mostly accurate' the passion contained in Alveua's words gave space to a bitter grudge now 'they brought her before me, and as I prepared to work my art on her body and spirit, she drew those gossamer knives out of thin air, thrust them in my back before I could have destroyed her, and then, into my face, as I lied stunned, she cast a Death of the Obsidian Butterflies. And then just fled, as if she could defy me and disappear into the night as if nothing had happened. I just want to return the deed, with all due interest.'

She sighed heavily, as if retelling the story made her sick. Her eyes were glistening with an intent to kill, and it was obvious that she was not going to let it go easily.

Things Lost and Broken

The gloom still apparent in his voice, the owner rolled his eyes towards the ceiling of the tent.

'You picked a wrong tavern to ask around, then, sorry' he said, lowering the flame-piece a bit more 'We do not dare to inquire in the matters of them Solars. Tend to get people killed, you know' the irony in his voice was so heavy that one could probably gather it into a jar. 'So, I'll serve you a round on the house, and you shall be on your way? Please?' he asked, looking at you with resignation.

'Your drinks lack the strength a warrior like me seeks!' the anklok, apparently experiencing an urge to say anything bellowed, but he did not question the lack of information found here. 'They are as a weak as your clay-like flesh!'

'But can I have one?' the elemental asked silently, raising her hand. 'Pretty please? You serve kasiri, right?'

The flame duck's humble plea miraculously diffused the situation - for the bartender first exploded into laughter, dropped the flame-piece behind a counter, and fetched a bottle of some dark beverage, throwing a remark in flame-tongue that made Arianna's servant smile coyly and - you could swear, even though her skin was jet black - blush slightly.

Grimnir

The little critter quickly decided that he likes to be carried around, and wrapping his body around her slender wrist, clinching tightly and with a cute, wheezing sound falling to sleep, its little heart beating so slowly.

Barring the single plucked rose, the stranger left no trail of his passage: no bent blade of grass, no footprin in the mood, no disturbed bush; as if he was an incorporeal being it would appear. The garden returned to perfect tranquillity, in spite of the fires raging and dancing on the sky.

Somewhere, not so far from here, an Exalts waged war upon each other, and the heavens itself shook with their might. The pyres were alight: emerald, silver and golden... but the emerald was waning, dying.

It would appear that the Infernal found no luck in his pursuits.

Gentle tapping on the sanctum door called the goddess' attention.

A fellow god, Twice-Praised Keeper of the Sanctity, a former god of some nondescript park in Yu-Shan advanced to the noble position of the god of Island of Our Benefactors, most likely to spite the remaining celestial deities stood in the doorway.

He was a short, always smiling man, clad in a viridian robes, bald and wrinkled, as if he was very old - and truth be told, he remembered times from before the Primordial War.

'Oriasta!' he bowed 'Pleasure to see you! Was the wedding over that quickly? Hah, those Exalts, so hasty in all their endeavours...'

He had a pleasant voice to match his elderly mien, a voice of a good, old uncle.

[Zoronos]

The Visits

Bartrand nodded as Alveua finished her story. He paused slightly at her glare, then went to one of his workbenches, pulled a cloth from his pocket, and soaked it in the pail of cold water. He wrung it out, then returned it to Alveua. With a free hand he put it to her forehead, and waited a moment for her to put up her hand up to hold it there. He whispered quietly, "This will help the headache a bit; I realize it probably still hurts." Bartrand paused for a moment, searching the demoness' face for any softening of expression. "I know it is hard to let go of pain and betrayal, but I'd like you to give me a chance. Please." Bartrand put his hand momentarily on her arm in a gesture of sympathy, before turning back towards the fae girl.

Bartrand walked back to his workbench, and took a chair next to where Wandering Eye was sitting. "All right, now lets hear your side of things. And while we're at it, you already knew about that very interesting demon narcotic, didn't you? What actually brought you to my workshop, and what kind of plans did you have for the narcotic? I can think of a few good uses for such a substance off the top of my head, but I'd like to know what you planned on doing it with." Bartrand's voice was friendly and sympathetic, but there was a very slight hard edge to it. That he didn't intend to settle for less than the truth was obvious.

[MrPrim]

Grimnir

”Oh! Keeper! Hi there!” Oriasta said, her voice full of relief that the door didn’t open onto a) an Infernal B) a spooky old man or c) a the Mouth of Oblivion itself. The little wood-beast in her arms made an adorable little growling noise and barked slightly. ”Come in, please.”

She motioned for the other god to enter her Sanctum. ”The wedding ended quite abruptly,” she responded, ”There was an attack. One of the Yozi Exalts showed up and tried to have his way with the bride. It was… terrifying. He tried to grab me so I popped back here.” She motioned towards the sky, ”If those lights are any judge, it looks like Punch (the groom, the Solar who talks funny), and a Lunar, seem to have handled the situation.”

”Then, when I got here, a weird man tried to proposition me for something vague and menacing… then he vanished… then you showed up. It’s been a busy hour.” Chewy barked in agreement. ”See?”