Oasis is Hell - Exalted 2ed - IC

[Sallera]

Tea at Amalion's

Tewi rises smoothly as Amalion enters, offering a practiced bow and waiting for her to take a seat before resuming his own. Formalities observed, he gladly takes a mug of tea and a cookie; he would hardly refuse his host's hospitality at the worst of times, but in this case, accepting is far from a chore. He takes a moment to appreciate the tea in silence, observing Amalion's vague reflection in the liquid. He is tempted to judge her place properly, as he had Alveua's servant, but she might well be able to sense that from him, and it would no doubt be seen as rather rude.

From the first impression, Amalion was not one to worry overmuch about formalities, and while it would be unwise to rely on that, he follows her lead, content to speak of small matters before they moved to negotiations. "Spoken from an elevated perspective, I believe," he says, with a nod to Rose and a small smile. "There are certainly dangers to be found wherever one cares to look, but I think we have all of us grown somewhat practiced in dealing with them. My journeys through the city rarely fail to be interesting, and today's was exceptional mainly in the wonders at its end." He indicates the manse with a small motion of his hand.

[Volthawk]

Fury lies back for a few moments longer, before getting up and walking over to Oriasta, taking her hand.

"That was amazing. Thank you. I owe you one."

[MrPrim]

Oriasta smiled, her cheeks turning that lavender-blush shade that she seems to do so well. Squeezing the Lunar’s hand and then patting him on the cheek, she flashed a white smile, ”You’re welcome, it was my pleasure. Of all the strange visits I've had today, this has certainly been the most pleasant.”

Oriasta stretched her arms and yawned slightly, moving away from Fury and crossing the room again. ”Hold on right here,” she said with another one of those white smiles. She pushed aside a gauzy sort of curtain and stepped out of the glass-walled room, deeper into the sanctum. Fury had hardly started to look around when Oriasta returned, finally wearing clothes again.

Of course, what she was wearing was diaphanous, toga-like, and bared so much skin she almost seemed more naked with it on, but still clothes. She was also carrying a clay cup and when she handed it to Fury, he saw that it contained a small amount of water. ”Here, I thought you might be thirsty,” she said, ”I’m sorry, I’d love to hang around and help you with that other wound, but this endless day is beginning to wear on and I’m supposed to go meet a dragon about…, Oriasta made a vague hand motion, ”Something or other. You can come along if you’d like, I don’t think the dragon would mind an Exalt tagging along, but I’m sure it’ll be boring. God business, you know how it is.”

[Gargulec]

The Visits

Of all the things Alvuea could have done, laughter was the least likely.

And yet, she laughed, loud, ringing sound echoing through the corridors of the manse bound to her, making the demons shrivel in fear and joy, deepening the shadows, stoking the forge-fires higher and hotter. It lasted a long while, the music of her voice clinging to the walls long after she herself stopped laughing, and just stood there, listening to the echoes of her own happiness, smiling, perhaps the first time in a long while with a true serenity on her face.

'For some reason, Bartrand' she chuckled, as the last notes of the sound faded back into darkness 'for some reason, I...'

There was a long, long pause, the demon standing still as if the time stopped for her, the shadows around her feet coiling and dancing. And then, in a sudden pulse, they surged towards her, shrouding her in most fine blackness.

'...I believe you' she declared profoundly, closing her eyes and lowering her head. 'We will make it through, together' and that, on the other hand, was more of a plea than a statement, a hidden prayer for good fortune. 'We will make it through.'

Light on her feet, she nimbly danced to the Solar, embracing him tightly.

'It was a pleasure to pay you a visit, Bartrand' she smirked 'but now, I must go, attend pressing matters. But I will be back for supper, so be so kind...'

Offering a slight bow, she allowed the shadows surrounding her to lash at her, tear her visage apart into thousands of gleaming-black cicadas. The swarm buzzed silently, and flew through the window, towards the fabled Forge of Night.

Finally, the Twilight found himself alone, headed towards his chambers above in the tower.

The scent of Alveua still filled the air there, the disordered sheets on the bed, a glass knocked to the ground by accident all reminding of her presence. And there was something else there, too. Some Mar was pretty sure he has not seen there before.

In the middle of the bed, a scroll was lying, bound with red ribbon and sealed with cobalt wax, a simple coat-of-arms that could have belonged to any number of Solars or Dragon-Blooded in Oasis pressed into it.

The waxen seal broke easily, the message unfurling. It was... a single Old Realm character, caligraphed with an unsurprassed skill, the lines elegant and simple, yet complex and labyrinthine if one looked closely enough; a secret hidden from the view of the undeserving.

It read "crown".

But there was more to it, Mar realized as he observed the complex sigil, there was a message with a message there, one addressed at him... so easy to read after it had been noticed.

'Honoured peer' it read 'if you value the enduring of the humankind, grace me with your presence at the Cracked Tower at the first tomescu's howling.

-Regent of the Fallen Kingdom

The Twilight knew the name and the place: it was a manse in the Slagheap, belonging to a reclusive Eclipse-caste said to be a former kind or regent of some nation in the Hundred Kingdoms.

Invitation

Punch

Min was snoozing quietly, her face pressed into Punch's side, green light gleaming on her silver hair. Only asleep, she seemed serene, but even then, the dark stain on her hand, a shadow melded with her skin, one that drank light as eagerly as it sucked life itself out of everything it has touched reminded the Solar that the wedding changed his wife...

It was not obvious change, no fundamental turnaround. No, the metamorphosis was hidden in the small details, in her voice that suddenly turned bitter at times, in her large eyes that sometimes, just sometimes allowed themselves to be shrouded with spite and malice, with the endlessly repeated katas, the martial training that seemed to have no end for the Lunar, as if she wanted to instantly master the arts of the Celestial Lotus.

And yet, apart from that, she was the same Min, happy, easily flustered, shy and silent... only that now, after the wedding, she had started to cast a true shadow. It was hard to say if it was the change for better, or for worse.

But it was hardly the time for such musings, anyway. The night has just ended, and it was a busy night, too... a blissful one.

There was something lying on the table next to the bed, something that had not been there before - a scroll, tied with a crimson ribbon and sealed with a golden wax.

Should the Solar reach to it and break the seal, he would find a single character scribed inside with a skill that surpassed understanding: "crown". And inside of the single character, he would find a message, too.

'Honoured peer, if you value the enduring of the humankind, grace me with your presence at the Cracked Tower at the first tomescu's howling.'

-Regent of the Fallen Kingdom

Punch vaguely recalled Regent - he was an Eclipse that paid a few visits to the Bartertown not long ago, purchasing esoteric, sorcererous components - and information, regarding mostly the whereabouts of the Exalts in the Oasis.

[Zoronos]

The Visits

Bartrand thought over this strange icon for a minute. Then he thought about dinner. A nice Cobb salad, and maybe some Chicken Parmesan... wait, those didn't go together. Okay, scratch the Cobb salad, something fancier. Something with a romaine lettuce. Wait, the letter, yes. He'd think about what to cook for dinner later.

Bartrand hastily pulled on his nice overcoat, and headed downstairs, the letter tucked in his pocket. He hailed down Marantheus, who still looked a little worse for the wear from his trip down the stairs last night that Alveua facilitated. "Marantheus! Alveua will be joining us for dinner. Begin preparing an appropriate feast. Something from the river provinces."
Bartrand paused, realizing the demon was looking at him with a completely vacant expression. Oh, of course, the demon had no idea what 'river provinces' cuisine was. "The brown cookbook, third shelf, on the left. Start with page 183. If I am back in time, I will work on something myself, but just in case, I want to have a great meal ready."

Bratrand dusted his hands off or rather made the gesture of doing so. Again, there was no dust in Malfeas. Just the occasional brass shaving. He raised a finger in the air. "Anyway! I have an important meeting to attend. Fetch my Agatae from the stable!"

The demon smith looked self conscious for a moment, and wrung his hands before answering. Looking left and right, as though something might jump at him at any moment, the demon piped up, "Ummm... I'm sorry sir, but that Agatae is gone... we rendered it down last night for Chalcanth, like you told us."

Bartrand stood back for a moment, briefly befuddled. "Well then! Bring me the backup Agatae!"

The demon nodded rapidly, apparently happy that Bartrand had not chosen to blame the smith for rendering the wrong Wasp. Bartrand took a moment to write a note for Alveua, in case she returned while he was gone, and tacked it to the board where he always left such things. That done, Bartrand strode out the front door, and after a few minutes, with a quiet buzzing, the Agatae came into view from around the tower. The wasp settled in front of him, and made a soft purring noise by rubbing its wings together. It nudged him with its head slightly, indicating it wanted him to get on. It vaguely reminded Bartrand of a cat. A giant insectile cat that you rode around, but a cat regardless. With a swing of his leg, he hoped astride the wasp, and sailed for the Eclipse's palace.

[Gargulec]

Things Lost and Broken

Jania's question hung in the air for a long while, the pair of gleaming eyes observing the entire group very carefully, and very studiously.

'That' the voice husked finally, the words as feeble as the man speaking them 'is most unfortunate, honoured customers.'

With a silent hiss, a small lantern was lit, illuminating the interior with a weak, dancing lights. The alchemist looked just like his voice sounded - a withered husk of a man, his skin brown, his long beard dark-grey. Only his eyes seemed life-like, wary and quick.

'It would appear that I am out of jade' he muttered, looking at the flame before him 'difficult to come by, lately. Not a good place to seek it, yes.'

Accompanied by the sound of his bones creaking, he stood up from the faded mat he was sitting on.

'Though, I know of one place where you just might find what you... what you seek' a smirk appeared on his face only to vanish seconds later - yet, you have seen it clearly. 'There is a friend of mine, also alchemist, living in a small hut... kind of a hermit, one could call her, reclusive, tough to find...'

A bout of a dire cough interrupted him mid speech, for a moment making him appear as if he was about to die. But soon enough, he raised hand to show that he is all right.

'...and it is dangerous to go there, alone' he added, passing you a small pouch 'take this. It will aid you in your travels.'

'It is an old story, you are quoting, human' the Dragon-King suddenly snapped in, sounding vaguely amused.

'Ain't we just all, dragon?' the alchemist chuckled in response. 'So, honoured customer' he addressed Jania 'do you still want that haematite?'

Tea at Amalion's

The Unquestionable nods towards each of you as Vana introduces her companions, and listens closely to what you had to say, silent, but curious, allowing you enjoy the tea and the cookies undisturbed.

It would be fitting to describe them both now, but alas, mere words fail to express the divine perfection of the beverage and transcendent delightfulness of the cakes. Truth be told, it would require charms known only to the select few Lawgiver elders to even begin to comprehend the mastery of the one whose hand created them.

So you just enjoyed.

'Your manners impress me' she cheered finally, hearted by the eagerness with which you accepted her humble provisions. 'It is a rare thing in this poor age we live in to see ones as polite and kind as you. I am quite sure that all business we have to discuss will go smoothly with such attitudes!'

A valet came in in perfect silence, bowing before his master and whispering her a few words to the ear. It was obvious that it was just for show, for it was hard to imagine that such a lowly thing could have had delivered Amalion a bit of information unknown to her previously.

'And you have brought Zsofika with you, bound by oath... you do not change, Lawgivers, despite the times' oddly, there was no malice in those words, only a statement of a fact without any emotion other than a shade of amusement. 'Such a poor creature, she is' the good humour in her voice intensified, as if she was about to tell a very funny anecdote. 'Doomed herself for nothing. I wonder how she would react should they tell her that the precious daughter she wanted to save so much that she risked contact with the Chosen she despises is dead now, her body cold, a sharp knife of Lucien's sticking out of her breast... poor, poor thing... not only lose the freedom she treasured so much, but also her little, bright hope, the girl she nurtured and loved.'

No emotion but amusement marred Amelion's voice.

Dragon

There is a path hidden within the verdant Island of Our Benefactors, thin and winding, marked only with odd-shaped stones, cuts on the tree trunks and occasional claw-marks on the ground. It is easy to miss it and equally easy to leave it by mistake or oversight.

But, should one manage to follow it to the end, he would find himself in a truly remarkable place. In the shadow of three rune-scribed pillars, each as high as a tower, a glade, perfectly round, surrounded on all sides by thick and lush vegetation, overgrown with flowers red, blue and emerald in colour, with clear air ever filled with silent murmurs, distant echoes of prayers spoken in hope by those who wanted to bring life back to Oasis.

No creature - mortal or god-like - dared to enter this sacred sanctuary without an invitation, disturb the meditation of the three who dwelt there with their unworthy presence. For truly, if there was a heart to the life of the refugees of Creation, it beat there, to the rhythm set by heavy, slow breath of the three serpents coiled around the pillars.

Each of them was a magnificent sight to behold, breathtaking, even. The Dragon of Fire, slender and powerful, with scales that seemed to burn on their own, the sheer heat of his power lighting the pillar of volcanic glass from within, so that it burned like a torch, bright and warm - yet starting no fire that would be devastating.

The Dragon of Wood, long and serene, the life-giving vines growing from and around her thing, serpent-like body. It was nigh-impossible to say where she ended, and the pillar of ash begun, her scales seemingly blending with her own element - from a distance, one could be forgiven for mistaking her for the most splendours tree he has ever seen. The tip of her tail was buried in the ground, spreading the life that was her essence throughout the entire island.

And the Dragon of Water, wrapped around his pillar of crystal, his long fins glistening in light of Ligier. He was a terror to behold, something in his visage reminiscent of the unstoppable power of waves, consuming the land endlessly and tirelessly. Of all three serpents, it was he who looked most powerful, night-infinite puissance reflecting in the bottomless blackness of his large, thick scales. But most terrifying of all was his eyes, burning with a green glow, his sight so sharp that it was easy to say that it could transfix through almost anything - any lie, any disguise, any half-truth.

And they were set at Oriasta and Fury right now.

'Bow' the Dragon growled in stead of greeting the goddess and the Lunar.

[Dragnar]

Jania accepted the pouch quietly, nodding at the man's answer. She was still not entirely sure that was the answer she had wanted, after the Neomah's warnings... but still, she had to try. "We... Yes, we still want it."

[MrPrim]

Dragon

Bow?

Gods are hierarchal by design. One thing that the Primordials programmed directly into their servitors was an innate understanding and appreciation for their betters. A command from an official and duly authorized superior was more than a mere suggestion; it was an imperative– resistible, but only with effort. A true command resonated.

No compulsion assaulted Oriasta; no feeling of authority enveloped her when it spoke. The dragon’s order was just hollow noise.

But... still....

Her eyes drifted across the three pillars. This was the core of their Oasis, the heart of the Exile community. These three dragons were new elemental poles, seeding their corner of Heaven with the essence of life. The dragons were powerful, more powerful than she, and they deserved respect.

Despite this, despite all of it, she knew in her every mote: they were not her betters.

Oriasta bowed at the waist. ”You wished to see me?” she said, with her eyes cast down.

[AmberVael]

Tea at Amalion's

Vana sips her tea, her face a blank actor's mask. After a moment, she sets it aside and folds her hands in front of her. "I am glad to hear we impress you. I hope others may follow in our example- I am saddened to see the demon city may not be up to the same standards." She says with calm politeness, a pleasant, joyless smile working onto her mask.

"Beauty-" The entertainer begins suddenly, "Is like a vain courtier, dressing in countless outfits to impress those around it. There is beauty in the structure of your work. There can be beauty in tragedy. And... there is beauty in love, is there not?

"It must pain you to know that one more aspect of your city has been darkened, even if there is value to the story it leaves behind." Vana says, her smile falling away. "As an artist in my own way, I understand the value of craftsmanship, of a long labor of love, poured out in an instant. To see the city as it is- it is painful, and it is not even my home. I can only imagine how it must feel to have Zsofika's tale brought directly to your door."

"Perhaps, then, we should turn out thoughts and efforts to contributing to beauty." Come her next words, a soft reassurance. "And to the art you love. The blight of emptiness upon Oasis cannot sit well with you, to see all it contained obliterated. But, it leaves an empty canvas to paint anew. It would be good to see its magic raised high again, in new and wondrous patterns."

[DaWrecka]

Things Lost and Broken

The Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies was confused. It was not a state he enjoyed. He had no idea why the jadeborn had asked for haematite, although jade was a little less-confusing. But why had she not asked about the Solar? He had allowed her to take the lead without any comment beyond a twitch of a muscle that would have been a raised eyebrow on a mortal. But he felt compelled to comment now. He leaned close to the jadeborn and, quietly as his voice was capable, asked as diffidently as he could, "Are you sure you know what you are doing?"

[Flare]

Rose inclines her head. She does not feel sorry for the Second Circle Demon, and simply shrugs. "If the creature did not wish to challenge the Lawgivers, she would not have. Had she asked for help, instead of attacking us, perhaps the result would be different. I do not have sympathy for those who attack us with lethal force, and will respond in the same way. It is rather how the world works, is it not?" she responded. "As for this child of hers, perhaps it is simply better not to tell her. A servant trapped in her tears is no use as a servant. Then again, perhaps it would be better to hunt down Lucian. Regardless, she made her decision, and like all creatures, must live with it." Rose finished, waving her hand. "And you will forgive me for the insult of your hospitality, but she was not the reason we left the Oasis this day, thus it matters little. We came to see you, Lady Amalion."

[Sallera]

Tea at Amalion's

Her daughter? There's a curious tale behind this, no doubt. Perhaps a tragic one indeed, if all she speaks is true. He would have to see if he could get it later, and inform the demon of Amalion's words, despite Rose's objections. For now, it seems the others wish to steer the conversation toward business. Not what he'd have done - in his experience, it was unwise to appear too eager in negotiations, especially when one held no advantage over the other party - but at the moment, it might be best to play along. Still, he couldn't help but suspect their host was testing them somehow.

Tewi tilts his head toward Rose. "Is a contest of skill such a poor way of testing one you seek help from? Resilience is in our nature as conflict is in hers; death would have been unlikely even had she prevailed." Taking a sip of tea, he inclines his head to Amalion once more. "Regardless, we had not intended to bring her here, but we found ourselves in need of a more trustworthy guide after she sent away the one we had hired. My apologies. We did come here to speak of more pleasant matters, ones I hope can bring benefits to all of us."

[Volthawk]

Fury, for his part, remains standing. He wasn't a part of this system that the gods and elementals have, whatever it looked like, so as far as he thought, he didn't need to.

[Gargulec]

Things Lost and Broken

'Wisely' the old man praised Jania, quickly shuffling through a bag of ingredients. 'Here' he passed her a pouch of haematite he had procured. 'Now go' he waved his hand towards the street, resting on his rug again, legs crossed. 'Soon, I might find myself out of this rare resource, and it would be better for you to be far away from here when that happens...'

'Stop speaking in riddles, human' the anklok hissed in response. 'Speak openly, or forever stay your tongue!'

The elderly alchemist, unmoved by the giant lizard verbally assaulting him replied with a shrug.

'Alas' he murmured, but nothing followed. 'Go' and yet, he decided to urge you once more after a short moment 'let the trinket lead you... and beware sharp objects in your back...'

[Dragnar]

Jania accepted the pouch and quickly stepped out of the tent. Breathing a sigh of relief, she opened the first pouch the man had given her to take a peek inside. Hopefully this was worth whatever supposed danger they were going through... "Well, that went about as well as could be expected. I still don't know why so much secrecy is required, but trust that I am following our missing friend's trail."

[Odd_Canuck]

Invitation

Punch exhaled slightly forcefully... those familiar with him would recognize it as a restrained sigh of annoyance. "Excessively dramatic, flowery and slightly threatening" he thought. Some of the other exalted can be so... irritating. If Regent of the Fallen Kingdom wanted to discuss matters with him why not schedule a meeting with some notice? Why not simply send a simple message instead of a protected and teleporting one? But no, that wouldn't involve enough Drama.

Fortunately at least his work is in a state where he can set it aside for a time, but it's still annoying. Oh well, nothing else for it, he should go to the meeting. He should not go empty handed, but the implication would be that it would be a meeting of Peers.

Sending out some assistants to gather some suitable token gifts (Malfean healing balm, Triple distilled demon blood wine blessed by priests of all the Incarnate, Tridectuple purified Arsenic) as well as basic gear needed should the trip take longer than a simple meeting (several of the new MREs and water), Punch explains to Min that there is a meeting he needs to go to with Solars only, and that it might take a few days or even more... and that he would miss her the whole while.

Loading the saddlebags onto Fluffy, his faithful Agatae mount he sets off after a final kiss goodbye with Min.

[Gargulec]

Tea at Amalion's

Amalion's face was veiled, hidden behind a thin layer of silk so fine that one could barely feel it under his fingers, yet more opaque than the shadows cast by the passage of the Dragon. Not a faintest hint of what beauty was hidden beneath passed through. It was, indeed, a perfect concealment for the unspeakable perfection inherent to the soul of the one who once claimed the title of Holy Radiant Is.

And yet, anyone with eyes to see could notice the smile - even though seeing it seemed impossible. It just... was there, of this, you could be sure. But whether it was a peaceful, kind one, or the smirk that heralds malice - that was another story entirely.

'An empty canvas, you say? A blank slate to be written on, a pool of molten brass to be hammered into yet another glorious shape?' she stated more than asked 'yes... appealing, but...'

She made a pause in her speech, timed so perfectly that Rose's remarks fitted right in.

'...I am reluctant to allow some to the brushes and paints, for such a horror they would create. Such beings as those that would hunt Lucien' the words were not even directed at the Ashbringer, as if she was not even present 'or try to steer an Unquestionable from his course of words. Such impudence! Yet, you may consider your humble pleas acknowledged and accepted, I want to see what will you rise in my honour. One of my souls shall attend the proper paperwork, I do not have my head for it...'

A valet nimbly slipped into the chamber, refilling your cups of tea and bringing a fresh plate of cookies for you to use. Curiously, Rose's cup stayed as it was before, the servant apparently not even noticing her existence.

'Yet, despite that boring bureaucracy, would you kindly stay some more?' the demon asked, reaching for her mug finally, the disappearing beneath the veil in a manner both incredibly simple and somehow highly sensual still. 'I long for a good company from time to time.'

The words seemed entirely, perfectly honest - if there were any traps hidden, the mastery in which they were concealed within such an innocent statement dwarfed your ability to detect.

'So, tell me' she begun 'how do you like it in the Demon City?'

Dragon

The Dragon twitched - a sudden jolt through his colossal body as the Lunar stayed upright. His eyes narrowed, the glow within them intensifying until they were like a pair of golden torches drowned beneath the bottomless depths of the ocean. There was a fury in their light, but also something else - something the Full Moon so easily could sense, scent.

Fear.

For as much as the elemental wished to deny it, inside of his serpentine heart, he was afraid of the Celestial Host, remembering that it was within their powers to erase him from existence as easily as he could flatten a blasphemous mortal. And there was no hiding - Oriasta had to bow, but Fury understood that the Dragon had no way of forcing him to bend.

He slithered down his pillar, leaving a trail of life-giving dark water behind, until his massive head was a few inches from Oriasta, eyes looking down upon her. She could feel the air growing damp around him, the overwhelming smell of salted water saturating her robe, the tiny droplets gathering on her face and hair, making them look as if they were covered in a morning dew. He remained such for a few minutes or so, enjoying the sight of a goddess showing him such respect.

'Rise' he commanded finally, retracting. 'And welcome to you, Chosen of Luna. Your presence here is an honour.'

Well, it must be said that he tried to make it sound sincere.

'You will serve, Oraista' the sound of his booming voice suddenly became grating, aggressive - something must have had made him unsure of his own position not long ago. 'Do you understand that?'

Or Better than Kings, Gods

Punch, Bartrand

Spoiler

Show

The Visits scene is ended. Bartrand receive a whole whooping 7XP and a two-dot ally (the fae-blood).

The Slagheap was shrouded in shadows - the city of gloom and dirge, a fitting place for the aristocracy of the fallen world to dwell in.

Massive pillars of brass towered over the squat buildings, over the manses and temples, each of them drowned in darkness of the laws imposed on Creation-born. And even those pillars were nothing compared to the single spire of jet rising so high the the skies seemed to rest on it - and glowing runes, viridian as the sun above dotted it, obvious to anyone who would put his eyes on them.

I, Malfeas, in My infinite grace...

Yes, the Slagheap was a symbol of your condition, it was impossible to deny. Here, God-Kings lived in the darkness of their own failure, ever reminded of the mandate of heavens they once held - and now, only dust and submission remained.

Here, the priests to the Incarnae tended lavish temples raised with the help of the demons of all sorts, understanding perfectly well that the new cathedrals to Sol or shrines to Luna were raised in an image of the magnificent places of unholy worship of the Endless Desert.

Here, the once mighty gods walked wide, empty streets, shaped after the Heaven left behind, looking around only to see pale mimicry and mockery of their former glories. And yet, they had to stay here, for where else would they receive their ambrosia?

Here, the ambassadors of the Yozi dwelt, more for their leisure, to give them such an undemanding joy as an ability to straddle the streets and see gods and man genuflect before them, as to feel as if the Times of Glory were once more - even if as a pale shadow of their former magnificent, diminished reflection. But it was Hell, the Ligier above did allow any to forget about - and everything here was but a twisted image of a true splendour, hateful lament for all things lost. A song that the refugees of the lost Creation had to join.

In the tranquil centre of the Slagheap, were the shadows were thickest, and only the most influential could dwell, where plazas were as large as entire cities, and yet with no crowd to attend them, were statues to the heroes of past went forgotten, a tower stood, almost at the feet of the Spire of Malfeas' Decree. It was a simple arrangement, elegant in its modesty - a manse raised hastily, but skilfully, the flows of vitriolic essence arranged into a mandala around the single brass-and-ivory bastion.

A pair of agate landed at its base almost simultaneously, buzzing of their wings disturbing the stale, thick air. From up close, the manse looked even more ascetic: no murals, no engravings, nothing but black tiles and dark orange of the Demon City's favoured metal. Yet, it was obvious if not for the mountainous parody of the Mount Meru behind, it would have easily dominated the landscape.

At the tower gates, three Solars more awaited, keenly observing their peers dismounting the demonic wasps and approaching.

One of them was fighter, tanned, black-haird warlord, gaunt and handsome, his features sharp so much that they seemed to be cut from granite, instead of week flesh, sharpened by the endless battering of the desert-wind that could erode even jade, given enough time. To his side, a long, curved blade of orichalcium was strapped, cutting clearly from his khaki-coloured vest, well-embroidered and well worn. He appeared as a general recently returned from a victorious campaign, the foes he had vanquished a proof of his ineffability. He was sure of himself, that was obviously visible in his deep eyes, so contended.

To his side, a young woman stood, as her peer dark-skinned (though while the deep colour of his flesh was due to the Sun burning its mark onto his, hers was just a sign of a Southern heritage) and black haired, many dreadlocks falling down on her exposed shoulders - and truth be told, not much of her body was covered, only barest minimum of decency she retained with a loincloth and one more sash wrapped around her chest. Supporting her weight on a golden power-bow, she was looking around warily, but without fear - a sight of a person who always sees the perfect cover, the perfect way out and the perfect spot to deliver a silent death to another.

And slightly behind them, the host was, standing in the doorway. He looked... unassuming, more like a monk than a God-King. His head was bald, adorned with brown and red spots and decolourations, few strands of once-red hair giving his long beard a pretence of colour. His garments were simple as he was old - a single, saffron robe tied with a hempen robe. One would be easily forgiven for mistaking him with an ascetic at the end of his road towards enlightenment. Yet... he was a Quicksilver Falcon, a Chosen of Sun, and his eyes, though peaceful shed an inner radiance of power.

'Welcome, peers' he greeted you, offering a slight bow. The man nodded to you, while the girl remained perfectly still. 'I am glad that you are all here, and hopeful that this meeting will go according to the plan. But...' he raised a hand towards the other Solars 'before we proceed behind those doors, I must ask you one thing' the Eclipse caste-mark sparked into life on his brow 'please, swear in the name of the Unconquered Sun who bestowed his powers to us that nothing you hear, see or decide within shall be made known to anyone outside our circle.'

[MrPrim]

Dragon

Oriasta opened her mouth to respond and then remembered that she didn’t have to. The goddess straightened, one eyebrow raised in puzzlement.

There was deference, there was politeness, but this was something else. ”I shall offer my services in whatever way necessary to help the world,” she stated, water dripping from her wrappings in a most undignified (if very Spring Break-y) way. ”What do you need of me?” she asked.

[AmberVael]

Tea at Amalion's

"You have my gratitude, lady Amalion." Vana replies graciously. "And I would be honored to further partake of your company." She sips her refilled tea with satisfaction as Amalion asks her question, and considers how best to answer, before speaking carefully.

"I have already made it plain that there is much within the city that is discomforting to me. My discomfort is aggravated, however, by the fact that I find much of interest and moments of breath taking awe and wonder. It fascinates me, but I find its beauty tarnished. It is inspiring, and saddening, full of potential that it has not quite reached."

She swirls the tea in her mug absentmindedly, looking off into the distance. "On my way here, however, there was one occurrence that made me think. The joy I inspired among the people, that was real. It was a shining moment of unity, of abandon. It gave me hope. Perhaps there is something I can do in return for what Malfeas has done for me."

A smile coils onto her lips. "I don't doubt some will think me mad for such thoughts."

[Odd_Canuck]

Throwing the sets of saddle bags over his shoulder, Punch offers a slight bow to each of the Exalted while the Eclipse makes his welcome speech.

Raising his left eyebrow exactly 1/16th of an inch he pauses for a moment as if considering the words of the oath.

With a slight nod he extends his hand to be bound by the proffered oath.

[Sallera]

Tea at Amalion's

Tewi winces mentally as Rose is slighted, although he keeps his face clear of concern. That could have gone better. Best repair our relationship while we're still here... not that it's at all a bother to do so. He nods his thanks for the tea.

"My thanks for your generosity, lady Amalion. While I cannot speak for the Celestial Host, I hope that you will have nothing to fear in that regard. The needs of Oasis are such that I think anyone seeking to raise works without constructive intent will be forced to seek elsewhere, as they have until now."

Taking another cookie, he tastes it thoughtfully, taking his time before responding. "I spent my life before the Exodus traveling, carrying messages or seeking treasures in some of the most remote places in Creation. And yet, in a year, I saw not one-tenth the wonders I have seen in three months here. The Demon City fascinates me, as do those who live here. I don't know that I share lady Vana's desire to bring change; then again, there were some rather large gaps in my education." He gives a grin and a shrug, not quite sure what else to say. "I do like it here. At the moment, I am content to explore and learn what I can."

[Zoronos]

Or Better than Kings, Gods

Bartrand swings off of his Agatae, and gives it a pat on the head as its wings rub together in a purring noise once again. Silly little Agatae. It must be so happy that the other one was rendered into Chalcanth, because now it could be his only mount. They were so much like cats; each Agatae wanted all the attention.

He turned towards the other exalts, and raised an eyebrow. "Circle? I was unaware you were my circlemates. My name is Bartrand Mar, and it is nice to meet you all." He looked around at the others, their lack of introductions slightly annoying him. Who was this Eclipse that ignored introductions to launch directly into Oaths sanctified by Sol Invictus? How rude.

Bartrand paused for a moment before extending his hand; the Oath was poorly worded. "There is a hole in your oath, sir. Through our actions, we make our decisions known, if not the source thereof. As soon as we took any action on our decisions, the Oath would break, and we would all feel the displeasure of the heavens. Instead, how about we swear to not speak of, or otherwise in any way actively or purposefully communicate what we see, hear, or decisions we make within to others outside our little circle? I don't know about you, but I'd rather not tempt the heavens wrath through ill-wording." Bartrand extended his hand, ready to shake on the (slightly modified) oath. He had met enough shady merchants on the roads to know better than to sign a contract someone else had written without reading it first.

[Gargulec]

Or Better than Kings, Gods

The Quicksilver Falcon sighed softly upon hearing Mar's remark.

'We are not a Circle, yes' he admitted, extending his hand as well. The palms of the gathered crossed. 'But I did not use this word in this meaning, either... and, well, we were, once, in the Age of Horror.'

Closing his hand, he gave the Twilight a curious look.

'The oaths sanctified by the Sun are of spirit, not letter he remarked 'Worry not, the intent is obvious, and wrath of heavens is not going to befall us... but fine, I admit, your wording is better.'

Suddenly, his anima banner unfurled behind him, a simple geometric composition of a pyramid written into a circle, the Sun shining from the top. You all felt a sharp tug somewhere inside, and for a moment, you hearts fluttered as you became oathbound. The Eclipse exhaled in relief, moving from the doorway.

'Come' he invited you, the doors swinging open on their own, opening onto a dark, spiral stairway. Without a word, he begun his ascent, the rest of the gathered following him closely.

Inside, the tower was a bit less bare - at the least the walls had been painted, and as you were making you way up, to the top, you climbed next to a long, almost never-ending mural that begun with the Shadow of the Dragon proposing the creation of the Unconquered Sun to the Holy Tyrant. By the time the lantern-lit stairway led you to the top, you had witnessed the birth, trials and appointment of the Ignis Divine, and then more - creation of the Daystar, the days of the Primordial War and in the end, by the final step, the Victory over the Primordials Mudra.

You entered a round chamber, as simple as it came to be expected from this Eclipse. There was a single table in the middle, as round as the room it was in, adorned with a simple motif of the laurel branch inlaid in orichalcium on the dark wood. Five chairs surrounded it, hard and uncomfortable, with the backs engraved with long sutras in the Holy High Speech.

'Be seated' your host implored, finding himself a place too. For a moment, only sounds to be heard was the ones of wood grinding against the stone floor. Then, the silence befall the chamber, no one daring to disturb it.

'I believe that introductions are in order' the Eclipse finally spoke up, clasping his seemingly-feeble hands. 'I am Marius, the Regent of the Fallen Kingdom, a Quicksilver Falcon. I have claimed this title, because for all intents and purposes, the Slagheap we currently reside in is mine' there was no bragging in this statement, no change of tone, as if it was the most obvious thing to all of you. 'To my side' he added, nodding towards Punch 'sits Harmonious Jade, an Iron Wolf, the best assassin known to me, and the holder of the reins of by far the most effective web of spies and informers in the Oasis and beyond' the dark-skinned women did not move, her eyes fixated at the laurel branch in the middle of the table. She look like a statue cut of stone, not a slightest twitch coming from her. 'Next to her, there is Bartrand Mar, a Copper Spider' he continued 'overlord of the town known simply as the Darktower, probably the most effective and productive centres of crafting in the Oasis, as well as a peerless craftsman himself. Then, Adam Chikyu, a Golden Bull, lord of the Bartertown, master craftsman and an expert pugilist, as evidenced by his latest exploits, of you which you must have heard. And finally' he turned his keen eyes at the black-haird fighter 'Forsaken Sword, a Bronze Tiger, the unknown sovereign of the Port Wrath, warlord of a sizeable army of demons hidden just outside the borders of Oasis. I welcome you all' he finished the lengthy introduction. 'Forsaken Sword shall explain the reason of this meeting.'

'Indeed' the Dawn Caste smirked. His voice was just as it would be expected of him - sharp, strong, not loud, but ringing in the ears. 'We have all seen what happened to Creation. It was our fault. Not even once, but three times the Celestial Host failed to protect the land given to them in Creation-Ruling Mandate. First, the Usurpation. Then, Balorian Crusde, and finally, the End of the Days. As much as we would want to deny it, on our shoulders rests the responsibility for those catastrophes. This is why we must consider the reasons of our inability to guard and lead' he made a pause, allowing the rest of the gathered to think of what he had just said. 'The conclusion I drew are as follow' he returned to his speech moment later 'the Host is strong when it is as during the War at the dawn of time, united under a single banner and a single goal. But when personal objectives and agendas enter the picture, we tear ourselves apart. The Deliberative of old was the best example of this, but in lesser ways, this tendency reflected itself in the inability of the Silver Pact to take any actions towards the principle of stewardship and in the final days of the Scarlett Empire where, devoid of the firm rulership of the Scarlett Empress, the Realm collapsed under the weight of Terrestrial houses' conflicts. Even worse, we can already start observing petty squabbling and power struggles among the Celestial Host gathered in the Oasis - even if it is the hour of need right now. Thus...'

'...thus, to the five of us' the Regent picked up 'to the five of most influential Lawgivers, ones that hold the reins of power and assets necessary to assert control over the population, I propose to form a secret ruling body, powerful through its contacts, subtlety and influence upon the mortal, Exalted and demon alike, that will take lead of what remains from Creation, from the shadows steering the course of our society so that it does not fall to our weaknesses again. New Deliberative shall be formed, but the real power shall reside within our hands. Already, together, we would be almost unstoppable. I command the Slagheap and a cache of First Age artifacts of uncanny powers recovered from the Cache Egg of my previous incarnation, Adamu and Bartrand are the ones who hold the production and trade, Jade can provide us will all intelligence we need, or remove the obstacles that require lethal force to use and Forsaken Sword not only holds sway over the criminal element of the Oasis, but also commands the unknown armies that can be used in case of an emergency. Those assets combined will give us the ability to shape the history of what remains according to an uniform, greater vision, imposing order over the chaos of disorganized Celestial Host and, in the longer run, over the schemes of the Unquestionables.'

'Not gain' the Dawn spoke again, almost whisper like 'not fame. Not glory. We shall stay in shadows, allowing other legends to grow... but we shall shape them. We shall rule in secret, and thus, we will ensure that Creation survives, is rebuilt and then thrives in a new Golden Age.'

[DaWrecka]

Things Lost and Broken

The Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies grunted. Or at least, his dead throat made a passable imitation thereof. "You are acting on information extracted from that neomah?" he questioned of the jadeborn. Without waiting for a response, he launched another question. "How sure can you be that the demon can be trusted? And assuming it can be trusted, how close are we to the wayward Copper Spider?"

[Flare]

Rose grins at the Demon's statements. Apparently she had misheard her, or some such. If she spent more time talking about how it was better to keep the demon uninformed instead of crying, how would hunting Lucien help at all, other then making the demon wonder why it happened, thus becoming confused? It was as if she spoke in tongues. No matter. She ignored the lack of service, as well, putting the tea down, and waited for the conversation to finish.

[Odd_Canuck]

Or Better than Kings, Gods

"Punch" is declared as Punch places his hand flat against his chest. Bending over and picking up the saddlebags of Stuff, he starts placing them on the table with a declaration of "Minor Gifts. Celebrate new friends. Take as you desire" followed by a gesture towards the assembled collection. The pentagonal placement of items gives an indication of whom he thinks will be most interested in each of the items... Tridectuple purified Arsenic to Harmonious Jade, Healing Balm to the Warrior, Tokens of dock access and services for Forsaken Sword, Alcohol to the Eclipse caste, the crystallized virginity of an 10 century old Neomah for the Twlight as well as a small assortment of other items in the middle of them.

As the others gather whatever appeals (if anything) Punch sits back down, and offers his condensed wisdom on the issue. "Problem: Keeping Secret. Others as good as us find out. Not like it, secret wars start. Wars Start. They oppose all we do in spite."

Lowering his head in thought for a moment, he suddenly looks up, opens his arms wide to indicate everyone in this room and declares "Make new deliberative. Everyone involved. "Community Leaders" steer things." "Police the Powerful." is added with a turn and bow to Harmonious Jade.

[Zoronos]

Or Better than Kings, Gods

Bartrand sighed and leaned back in his chair. He folded his hands together in front of him, across his thing stomach. It rumbled, reminding him that he hadn't finished his breakfast, with all the commotion this morning. He had been getting more gaunt in recent days; the busyness in his workshop was taking more and more of his time, and he had been forgetting to eat meals more often than not. Ironic, given that his manse provided one of the most reliable food sources in the Dross or the Slab. Oh, right, the meeting. Think about lunch and supper later. Supper... right, what was he going to cook? Maybe a nice souffle. No time for that, the meeting!

He leaned forward, placing his hands on the table, still folded together with his index fingers interlocked. "Attempting to 'steer' things in committee will end as all committees and deliberatives end. Squabbling, infighting, and not much getting done, except in back room deals, which means secrecy and secret wars anyway. Playing politics does not avoid wars, it just changes the arena in which they are fought. And they are fraught with just as much death as a shooting war."

Bartrand sighed heavily, and looked down at the orichalcum filigreed table for a long moment before looking back up. "You wish to put a bit and bridle on Legends, a lasso around a meteor of reality-warping power. This is a very dangerous game you propose. We have power now, perhaps. But all our infrastructure and support is transitory. I have read books that tell of the Works of the Solars and Lunars of the First Age. To attempt to guide such things down a path we desire is to try and guide a bull by softly tapping at its flanks. For now, perhaps it would work, while everyone is still weak and trying to get their footing. But that would not last; we Lawgivers get too strong too fast for mere curios to hold dominion over our brethren for long."

Bartrand turned towards Forsaken Sword, "A honey tongued Zenith could turn your entire town and entire criminal enterprise against you in a day, such that every man, woman, and child in the town that was formerly yours would die for her before acceding to another of your commands." He swiveled in his chair to the Eclipse, "Your cache of artifacts would undoubtedly give us a leg up on any competition, but I have already began to puzzle out many of the secrets of First Age construction, and others can't be particularly far behind me. Given a year or two, any Solar, Lunar, or perhaps even Dragonblooded could have an Arsenal of technology."

He signed, and placed his hands flat on the table, "We have power today, this much is true. Power that any mortal and many Dragonbloods would envy. Our control of society as it stands today is quite strong. But the beings you propose to control, they can snatch that away in a heartbeat inside the space of a few years. Everything we have built, they can build. Everything we can do, they can do. We need something far more solid than transitory control over the mortal population of Oasis if we truly intend to shape things from behind the scenes."

Bartrand paused again, and put a hand to his forehead. "I do not mean to belittle the idea as a concept. Far from it, from a high level perspective, I agree with you. That said, while agreeable it may be, I am not sure if it is feasible. In the end, we are 5 against 695. We will need much more leverage that what we have now if we intend to prevail against such odds."

Bartrand's scowl turned into a grin as his hand went to his chin, again running over the stubble left there from his incomplete shave a hour or so prior. "Or, perhaps your original metaphor is more apt. We require the Celestial Host to be as it was during the Old War. What we need, is an enemy for it to throw itself against. Not enough to break it, but enough to keep it distracted, busy, cohesive. They will not look so hard for enemies within while doing battle with enemies without, especially if, say, Forsaken Sword here is their General. Once such a Terrible Conflict was completed, they'd naturally look to their General for continued leadership, having guided them through a trying and dangerous time already. You say you have an army of demons? How large? Large enough to keep the Celestial Host busy for a year or two?"

[Gargulec]

Things Lost and Broken

The thing gleaming from the satchel was a little compass of brass with an arrow of green iron, pointing somewhere Malfeas-wards.

'There is someone watching us' the ankolk cut in 'I can smell treachery and backstabbery in the air!'

Indeed, there was a small crowd now, outside of the tent. Apparently, some sort of a quite illicit trade was going down in this secluded spot, and many came to attend. There were shouts and curses in a few languages. The entire deal looked rather shady, but then again everything in Port Wrath could be described in such words.

'The one in the fancy hat' the Dragon-King muttered, his voice still booming - probably the idea of whisper seemed abhorrent to the massive reptile. 'He is spying on us, hiding something beneath his coat...'

And there he was, a tall, slightly overweight man in an excessively ornate hat, so large that it covered his entire face. He was wearing a tall cloak, too, his hands hidden within. Even with all that cover, it would not take much to see that he was looking right at you.

Spoiler

Show

Also, Perception+Awareness roll from everyone, please.

Tea at Amalaion's

The Unquestionable listened to you closely, thoughtfully, not interrupting you - or maybe just with a nod or two, to encourage you to speak further. She was genuinely interested in your feelings about the Demon City, maybe seeking some fresh, new insight in them, something that would change her own view of the gilded, blooded cage that Malfeas was.

'Tarnished beauty' she mused, repeating Vana words slowly, as if tasting each syllable separately 'yes, that is a good way to describe this place. Beautiful... saddening, yes. But...' she added, puzzled, unsure whether she understood the word properly 'hopeful?'

For a long moment, she just sat there, wordless and motionless. The veil over her face waved slightly, hiding how much did this simple, off-hand statement by a Solar whose name slowly spread through the streets of basalt and woe shake her. Sky outside changed colours, a stiff breeze blew through the grass, moving the perfected order of the manse by a little bit.

'You like it here, vassal of Bostvade?' she finally turned to Tewi, but trace of bewilderment was still so obvious in her voice 'and you are curious, eager to discover the secrets and little stories of our City? That is wise, but remember to keep your curiosity at bay, lest you will draw Orabilis' ire, and that is not something to be taken lightly.'

She took a pause to sip some more tea.

'Thing harpist you saved from a fate that befalls most of the female demons that are not strong to protect themselves or do not have guardians strong enough, she has a name, you know?' she digressed suddenly 'Tiela, I think. Not quite a citizen, but more than a serf, most certainly. She is a companion to one of your kind, an errant Crowned Sun that wanders the City for some time now, gaining fame as the shield of the serfs and others high in the Descending Hierarchy. Maybe you should try to find her, Lady of the Smoldering Mantra... ah, yes!' she exclaimed without much exaggeration 'you got quite a cult already, yes? Many offer their silent prayers to you instead of the Yozis that spawned them, is not that so? If I may inquire, what do they see in you? Punishment? A ruler? Or maybe this peculiar thing you spoke of, hope?'

[DaWrecka]

Things Lost and Broken

The Artificer of Ten Thousand Blasphemies hissed with some anger at the dragon king's warning, Armoursmith's Despair sliding out of its scabbard with a hiss of its own.

Spoiler

Show

Taking a Draw Weapon action, and burning a point of Willpower on the roll;
Perception 5 + Awareness 4 = (9d10)[10][7][5][2][6][10][7][4][6](57) + 1 automatic success
Willpower: ●●●●● ●●x

[Gargulec]

Dragon

The Dragon snorted, contended, small cloud of sea water shooting from his nostrils.

'You know your place' he complimented Oriasta. 'Rare thing for gods, such as you.'

The ease of the goddess' submissions must have had relaxed him greatly. His eyes widened, no longer narrowed to a predatory glance that masqueraded inner weakness. The hierarchy had been preserved once more.

'There is a spirit' the Elemental begun, after a moment of consideration 'a foolish, light-headed nymph that has too much of curiosity for her own. What happened to her was of her own fault only... she had wandered into the desert, for reasons I do not try to discover, and lost her way there, only to be found, captured and abused at the hands of the denizens of the Demon-City!' he growled 'They put her in a cage and on sale, as if she was a thing to be traded to one another... and worse yet, my worshippers' there was an awful lot of stress put on the word "my" 'loved her, as foolish and stupid as she was, and pray to me to save her... this is why I have called for you. You will wander into the so-called Plaza of Weeping and Dismemberment, where she is to be auctioned, and with my authority, you will make her released!'

Fun thing, that beings so powerful and ancient could still be so incredibly foolish.