Guardians of Gem: Defending the Indefensible IC

[Lix Lorn]

“I’d like to thank all of you for accepting this offer.” the woman says, sitting up straight in her chair and smiling. You might wonder what’s going on – last you heard, the despot of gem was a dark skinned, slightly pudgy man of middling age, rather than the chocolate skinned young woman who sits before you.

“I know this is a rather large task, since I have no doubts that most of Creation has their eyes on us. Wealth always draws attention, jealousy… I’m sure you understand. Nevertheless. It’s going to be your job to keep Gem intact, secure, and under the control of its rightful masters.”
The despot pauses for a moment.
“Which, of course, is me. I know the realm’s rather unhappy with us after some recent events, so they’re likely to be one of the first people to attack, but their lack of support is going to let all the other ravening wolves come for us. Realm withdrawal is giving us some major economic issues, but we do have some contacts working on that.

Of course, I’m sure that you’re all quite interested in the matter of payment. So, let me put it like this. If you can protect Gem until calibration, you will never encounter anything that can be bought that you cannot afford.”

The despot sat back, her speech given, and awaited the reply of the stunning array of potential saviours in front of her. Solars, Lunars, a jadeborn, even some of the Infernals had answered her call for defenders, champions, and allies. Her offer was a tremendous one – limitless wealth- but one Gem could follow through upon. But it was a difficult task – everyone in Creation stares upon the mines of gem in longing.

The Despot’s palace sits in the centre of the back wall, shielded from the blazing sun. This office, large enough for over a score people to sit and converse in, is near the top, a staircase at the back leading onto the roof.

“Now… the ambassadors from the realm are arriving tomorrow, I was hoping at least some of you could escort me, and perhaps help persuade them not to blow us all up?” she requests, a slight smile quirking the corners of her lips.

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First OOC here and second OOC here and third OOC here

Characters
{table]Player|Character|Caste
Maugan Ra|Ashur|Dawn Solar
Recaiden|Camdaimonia, Shintai Sa Adorjan|Night Solar
Mechanix|Your Untimely Demise|Slayer Infernal
Edge|Ivory Skies|Scourge Infernal
Imrix|Sharihmelis, the Aegis of Truth|Full Moon Lunar
The_Snark|Clover|No Moon Lunar
industrious|Fourth Clever Victory|Comet Nocturnal
Ifni|Glass Knife|Chosen of Serenity Sidereal
Crumplepunch|Brasla|Warrior Jadeborn[/table]

[Maugan Ra]

"Why Calibration?"

At first glance, the speaker does not seem particularly impressive. His clothes are of fine cut and quality make, to be sure, but they lack even the most basic of ornamentation. He carries no visible artifacts, no sign of personal wealth or authority, and his posture alone indicates a lack of anything resembling fine breeding. His skin is tanned, his neatly-cut hair a pale grey in colour, and between the old wrinkles and laugh lines he looks like a favourite grandfather more than anything else.

And yet, he sits at this table as though he belongs there, and there is a certain confidence and power in both his manner and voice.

"That is, of course, only one of several questions I have regarding this... contract." he continues in a mild, evenly-balanced tone. "Among the most pressing, though, would be why precisely you expect the Realm to declare war. If it is a well-known local matter, I beg forgiveness, for I am new to this city and still getting my bearings."

[Mechanix]

"I'm not here for the money. Gem is my city, too." The dry voice, distinctly marked by a low-class accent, is that of a young woman, dark hair cut short, her clothing simple and efficient; the starmetal bracers shining on her forearms were the only sign that she was something more than a common thug snatched off the street - well, that and the red iron tiara (a simple band of metal, really) with a half-heartedly carved flame set on its front, showing her status of champion. Arms crossed, a smirk on her lips, she stares at the opulence of the room. "Of course, I won't say no to that reward, either. As for tomorrow, I have done some bodyguard work in my youth. I'm good at it. Not so much for the talking, but hey, gotta know your weaknesses."

[Maugan Ra]

"I'm not here for the money. Gem is my city, too." The dry voice, distinctly marked by a low-class accent, is that of a young woman, dark hair cut short, her clothing simple and efficient; the starmetal bracers shining on her forearms were the only sign that she was something more than a common thug snatched off the street - well, that and the red iron tiara (a simple band of metal, really) with a half-heartedly carved flame set on its front, showing her status of champion. Arms crossed, a smirk on her lips, she stares at the opulence of the room. "Of course, I won't say no to that reward, either. As for tomorrow, I have done some bodyguard work in my youth. I'm good at it. Not so much for the talking, but hey, gotta know your weaknesses."

The elderly man nods. "I too was a bodyguard for some time, though it was not a dedicated position so much as an additional duty. None the less, the skills remain sharp."

A pause, and then he turns to the rest of the table and the gathered individuals arrayed there. "My apologies. Introductions seem to have slipped my mind. I am Ashur, and I flatter myself to claim some skill with a blade."

"That said, if violence does occur despite all precaution, my presence may cause more problems than it solves, especially with the Realm involved. It might be prudent for me to avoid attendance... I would need to know more about what is expected to occur, at any rate."

[Ifni]

Unlike the dark-haired young champion, the middle-aged woman does not stand out in the Despot's chamber. Her loose long-sleeved robe and trousers are clean and pressed, and professionally cut, albeit in a plain and severe style. The colors are dark gray and blue, sober and respectable; her soft leather slippers are polished, and little worn. Not a prince or potentate, certainly, who might enter this room as an equal - but perhaps an attorney or clerk or financial advisor, or a trader come to petition, one who wishes to signal that their profits go to their enterprise and not to frivolous decoration. Her only jewelry is a simple gold band on her left hand.

Her skin has the pallor of one who has spent long hours indoors, only a little weathered by age and the Southern sun. A broad-brimmed hat is tilted back on her head; beneath it, her dark hair is pulled back tightly in a coiled braid. Perhaps she was beautiful once; perhaps, without the severe hairstyle and stern expression, she could be again. Certainly there is a grace to her movements and a chiseled quality to her features that one might admire - but it is easier simply to look past her, at all the heroes who inhabit this small space, at the young man who entered with her.

Unlike the gray-haired swordsman, she radiates no personal presence or power; one would never look at her and think she deserved a seat at the table with Exalts and rulers. It seems that she acknowledges that, for she has claimed a narrow chair against the wall, and sits there with her hands resting lightly on her knees.

After silence falls for a moment, she clears her throat, and inclines her head to Ashur, a small elegant gesture. "An honor, Chosen." Her voice is low and measured, pleasant but not warm. "I am called Corolin Ra."

Her gaze turns to the Despot. "I am sure many here have traded or traveled further north." Her gaze flicks around the assembled dignitaries, not lingering on any one of them long enough to be rude, before she looks down modestly. "Myself included, although it was years ago. Is anything known of the ambassadors? It is possible one of us might be able to contribute information or leverage." She opens a hand, and falls silent again, letting the focus of the discussion pass back to the others where it belongs.

Even that brief glance garnered... quite a lot of information, to be going on with. The level of skill here is hardly a surprise, given the circumstances. Convenient, that the Despot has done that part of my work for me, having those in the city most likely to cause snarls come forward to identify themselves... I shall have to thank her later.

The sight of the starmetal wrapping the gladiator's arms causes her lips to compress for a moment. Not out of character; Corolin is God-Blooded, and well aware of the cost of the shining metal. Glass Knife sees a treasure that by right is Heaven's, and resolves to determine its origin as soon as may be.

The older man - well, his comment about the Realm, and his presence at this meeting, strongly implies Anathema. She wonders if Victory has realized. No obvious Tell, which might or might not be meaningful. Ashur. A name to remember, and research later.

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Currently running Lion Mouse Stratagem, Lotus Eye Tactics (3m version), and Seven Facets Understanding in the Indefinite version, costs discounted via Perfected Kata Bracers because they were activated while she had the appropriate Form charm up (there's no real reason not to do this, since they're Indefinite, and Sidereals' mote pools are a good incentive to conserve Essence).

This means that:
(1) Glass' Essence appears as that of a god or God-Blood to direct analysis (if you manage to analyze her Essence rating correctly you'd probably infer she's a god, because iirc E5 God-Bloods have already ascended, but (3) makes this harder).
(2) She knows which combat Abilities everyone has at 5+.
(2) She seems unassuming and unthreatening, imposing a -3 external penalty on all attempts to gauge her nature and the level of her skill. This is UMI that costs 2WP to resist for the scene.

She's wearing a Resplendency of the Pillar, the businesswoman Corolin Ra.

industrious, Glass is posing as a God-Blood ex-mercenary who is now a Respectable Businesswoman and handles the finances for their partnership. (Mercenary troops take a fair amount of management, you know ) She wants Victory to draw more attention than she does, because it lets her work more freely with Underling Invisibility Practice, and also his Exaltation getting revealed is less of a big deal than hers, out here. She would probably suggest he pretend to be God-Blooded as well; it's the usual cover story for Exalts who are not Dragon-Blooded

(We do need to appear competent/powerful enough that the Despot would try to hire us, after all, although she probably got a tip from an unspecified source that talking to us would be useful )

[Imrix.]

If it weren't for the green tinge to her hair, Shah might look almost at home in Gem with her reddish-brown skin and easy smile. But there was something in the eyes that didn't fit, something in her build that spoke of athletics more exotic than running through alleys.

Shah sucked her teeth through a smile at the Despot's explanation, subconsciously adjusting the strap of the large, cylindrical cloth bundle over her shoulder. "It sounds like you'll need overwatch," she mused, "someone to keep an eye on things from up high. I can do that."

[Recaiden]

Camdaimonia is Excited. After the call and the travel and the waiting, she is finally here, meeting with the Despot. He doesn't look like she expected; Sysel had implied a grizzled old man. Probably lost in translation.

"I speak well. I'll help you persuade them. The speaker is standing over the back of a chair, mostly at ease, but shifting a little with impatience. She is dressed plainly, in clothes to keep off the sun, not to catch attention, and a hat now hanging over her back. The notable exception is the set of goggles she's still wearing, tightly strapped over her red hair. The woman looks more accustomed to running and jumping and shooting (there's a certain asymmetric strength to archers, if you know to look) than to speaking, but on the other hand, she seems quite self-possessed.

A nod to the old man as he introduces himself, after which she straightens up a bit, barely resting a hand on the chair. "Camdaimonia."

She raises an eyebrow at the Despot's promise of payment. "Expenses?"

[Crumplepunch]

Brasla stands towards the back of the room, arms folded. At a distance, she could pass for a short human, but up close her pointed ears and stone-like skin are evident. She wears a heavy great coat, evidently unconcerned by Gem's arid heat.

The Jadeborn commander takes a moment to consider her options. Her green jade eyes narrow. This situation could be problematic.

"I am Brasla, shard commander. Greetings, all. This is bad news, your... uh..."

What mode of address is appropriate for a Despot, anyway?

"... your Despotism. The Mountain Folk are bound by contract not to do battle with the Realm directly. Having accepted your contract, this puts my command in an awkward position. We can assist in fortifying the city against attack, but we cannot do battle with the legions, except in direct self-defence.

That said, we'll give you an honour guard to the diplomatic meeting. The Realm wants Gem's wealth, but attacking the city is only profitable so long as the exports from controlled mines across the desert exceed your tribute, after being offset by the losses of the conquest itself. Marching a legion across the desert and attacking a mountain city was always going to be costly. A show of force might be all we need to get them to reconsider.

Tomorrow is too soon to get serious fortification work done, but we can get started, and make sure they see it. Local stone is some miserable basalt nonsense, but I can get the best out of it, don't you worry."

[Maugan Ra]

"'Chosen'? Hmm. It appears I am not as discrete as I had thought." Ashur says in response to the severe-looking Corolin Ra. His expression is somewhat pensive, and then he shrugs. "I may as well admit it, then, especially if we are all going to work together for the next while."

One hand rises into the air, and a moment later is holding a sword, as though the old man had drawn it from between two folds of air. It is a magnificent weapon, three solid feet of gleaming Orichalcum that burns with the glory of the sun, and merely looking upon it fills the heart with a burning courage and intractable resolve. The three empty sockets around the hilt indicate the logical placement for hearthstones, but even without them, this is still evidently the weapon of a champion.

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I don't know how hard it would be to recognise a Daiklaive of Conquest, though as a good ballpark figure anyone who has a decent Occult or Crafting score probably figures it out. There were only ever two of them made, after all, and I imagine they were quite famous.

On Ashur's brow, a Caste Mark burns into existence, a brilliant golden sunburst icon. "In truth, I am one of the Anathaema. A Forsaken, to be precise, though I believe the original terminology was 'Solar Exalted of the Dawn'." he says in a level voice. "If anyone here would prefer not to work with one such as I, please let me know. I will understand, and if the majority opinion is so set, you have my word that I shall depart in peace."

[Mechanix]

Demise raised an eyebrow at the sight, and whistled appreciatingly. "And I assume you knew of this?" she asked the Despot. "Truly these must be desperate times, to call upon the help of the Anathema. Not that I have any problem with that... But it's a good thing to know." For a brief moment, it made her hesitate to answer by revealing her own nature, but she decided to play it safe as long as she did not know her team-mates better. "I am known as Your Untimely Demise, scion of house Circla and champion of the Fire Circuit. Some say the blood of demons run in my vein; I will let you decide for yourself if there is any truth to this. "

[Maugan Ra]

Ashur lowers the blade, and it vanishes out of sight once more, the caste mark fading in turn. "I hardly think I have any basis for comments about demonic ancestry, champion." he says with a self-depreciating smile. "Though I was somewhat surprised to be invited to this gathering... I certainly told no-one what I was before now."

"In truth, I had intended to start a school here. Teach any who wished to learn what I knew about swordsmanship and warfare... and more importantly, about virtue and wisdom, craftsmanship and literature. I may do so still... if so, I should like to talk to you at some point... Your Untimely Demise." he continues, speaking the name carefully, as though getting a feel for it. "I imagine that trading notes with another champion would be most illuminating."

He nods to Brasla. "Likewise, shard commander, I would speak with you as well, if you do not object. Your people have a reputation for being excellent builders, and I am curious about any insights you would feel comfortable sharing. If you do not object, and I remain here, I would offer my own assistance with the construction of your fortifications."

[industrious]

Fourth Clever Victory

Behind Carolin Ra stands her bodyguard.

He stands silently, back straight and unyielding, behind Corolin's chair, hands clasped behind his back. His clothes are nearly identical to the dress uniform of a Realm scalelord, albeit in the God-Blooded woman's colors. Close-fitting black are pants tucked into leather boots, and a single dark blue stripe running across the outside seam. A high-collared shirt, double-breasted, likewise black, with that same dark blue, just bright and distinct enough to provide accent, at the sleeves and across the unadorned collar that would have, along with the left breast, held rank insignia, medals, badges and honors. Neither area contains any such thing; the effect would be severe, uncompromising, save for the crystalline bracers that start at his wrists nearly to his elbows, dark indigo and faintly glittering in the light.

Despite his dress, or perhaps because of it, the man himself looks surprisingly youthful - not too young for the uniform but there is still babyfat on his cheeks along with the small thin scars any soldier inevitably accumulates. He is not smiling, but one gets the impression that not doing so is an effort; that his natural expression contains a small upturn of the lips now absent.

"Your presence would not help Gem's situation with the Realm. Though given your kind's...prowess at...slaughtering...Realm soldiers, should negotiations break down..."

He meets Ashur's eyes, anger held in check by discipline meeting the Solar's gaze.

"...your expertise may be needed."

[Imrix.]

Shah makes an airy, dismissive gesture and snorts derisively. Her cheery demeanour suddenly takes on the somber tone of a scholar as she addresses Ashur "The whole concept of 'Anethema' is just a political fiction created by the Immaculate Order to justify the post-Usurpation regime. I can show you my notes, if you like."

"Oh, but where are my manners," she continues, brightening to once more. "Hi! I'm Shahrimelis, and this thing," she says, tapping her forehead as the symbol of the Full Moon shines gently into existence, "means I'm one of Luna's own Beloved, all the way from the Far East. It also makes a neat reading lamp at night! Um, not that I'd know anything about abusing divine power fit to make the heavens tremble for petty convenience. Nope, nope, nope."

Her faux-serious expression lasted about five seconds before cracking into a toothy grin.

[Maugan Ra]

Ashur's eyes meet those of the bodyguard. "I slaughter no-one. Never have, never will." he says firmly. "Soldiers are, by and large, men simply doing their jobs. Many show great honour and bravery in opposing me, all the more so if they know what I am. That deserves life, not death."

"The Wyld Hunt has caught me twice. On both occasions, I first tried negotiation, then fought merely to incapacitate. The second time, I also paid for the medical care of the Dragon-Blooded who was most seriously injured, before leaving."

He turns his gaze upon Shah. "I disagree. It may not be complete, but it is more than a fiction. I know the kind of horrors that I could commit if I did not care for the lives and souls of others. If I were to become such a monster, I would pray that another took my life as soon as possible." he says, and there is steel in his tone. "On five occasions, I have ridden with the Hunt myself, disguised as a mortal mercenary. Three times against Raksha, once against a Deathknight... and once against a Solar."

[Imrix.]

He turns his gaze upon Shah. "I disagree. It may not be complete, but it is more than a fiction. I know the kind of horrors that I could commit if I did not care for the lives and souls of others. If I were to become such a monster, I would pray that another took my life as soon as possible." he says, and there is steel in his tone. "On five occasions, I have ridden with the Hunt myself, disguised as a mortal mercenary. Three times against Raksha, once against a Deathknight... and once against a Solar."

Shah looks at him with a calculating eye for a few seconds, then leans forward and says, deliberately and with obvious forethought: "Pffft."

"People do horrible things, bucko. Mortals, Spirits, the Dynasts, us. You don't have to be possessed by a demon of ultimate malice to ruin lives, more's the pity. You just need a reason and only a little power. Hurting folk is easy."

Her eyes sparkle as she leans back. "It's what makes the other thing worthwhile."

[Maugan Ra]

"On that much, we agree." the elderly Dawn says, nodding. "There is, however, a matter of scale to consider. A mortal bandit develops a taste for murder and rape - even untouched, he harms maybe a few dozen or a hundred over the course of his lifetime. If I were to go insane and begin killing indiscriminately, I could depopulate entire regions before being brought down."

He shrugs. "I have no wish to ever do such a thing, and I hold to the virtues of the Unconquered Sun with every scrap of my will in order to avoid it... but I cannot fault those unwilling to risk everything they know and love on the strength of my word. Not with the evidence of precedence behind them."

[Crumplepunch]

Brasla appears to be unperturbed by the revealed presence of Celestial Exalts, as though she were already aware of them.

"You are welcome to assist my duties on the walls, Exalted one, but I agree with our shadowy friend; your presence at the negotiating table would only exacerbate the situation. Although..."


She pauses and thinks for a few seconds, tapping a gauntleted finger against her chin.

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Brasla has a good Intelligence+War score and I think this is passable advice given reasonable knowledge of setting geography and the Realm's strategic disposition.

If it becomes clear that negotiations are breaking down and a Realm attack is immanent, revealing the presence of the Old Princes in Gem would buy us time. Whatever forces the Realm has camped in the mountains are unlikely to be equipped to deal with such a threat. They would withdraw to prepare further, likely drawing auxiliary reinforcements and a Wyld Hunt from the Lap, more than a thousand miles away."

She stamps a foot on the ground and the stone floor ripples in front of her, rising into an incredibly detailed three-dimensional map of the region, showing mountains, deserts, cities and trade routes.

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Earth-Shaping Discipline is pretty cool.

"Even at forced march across the desert with means of long-range coordination, it could buy us more than a month. I am confident that I could make our defences impregnable to legion attack in that time. "

She points around the edges of the region and a route raises out of the stone in response, curving around the edge of the desert between The Lap and Gem.

"Much more likely they'd go around the Firepeaks to avoid Desert People territory. The legionaries have little to fear from them, but they'll play hell with the supply train. In that case, we'll have at least two months."

She stamps again and the stone settles back into the floor, as it was.

"Of course, then we'd have more soldiers to deal with, but I would rather have them meet failure at the walls than have blood on the streets. A last resort only."

[Edge]

Despite her height, Ivory Skies remains somewhat innocuous amongst the gathering, standing slightly aside of the group, arms folded under her breasts. Coffee coloured fingers tap against the uncanny white of her sleeve, almost nervously. But eventually, she does enter the conversation.

"If you intend to stand against the Realm, Despot, then it seems you have gathered the people who could help you do so."

Ivory pauses for a moment and glances aside, as though trying to come to a difficult decision.

"I too am numbered among the... Chosen, Exalted, Anathema, whichever term you wish to use. I am willing to accompany you tomorrow, Despot. I have some small familiarity with the art of conversation, but my fists and my blade could end up my strongest assets. However, my assistance is contingent on one thing - that I find Gem worth defending. I do not care for your promises of wealth, but I will only stay if I find the people of this city worth staying for."

[Imrix.]

He shrugs. "I have no wish to ever do such a thing, and I hold to the virtues of the Unconquered Sun with every scrap of my will in order to avoid it... but I cannot fault those unwilling to risk everything they know and love on the strength of my word. Not with the evidence of precedence behind them."

Shah shrugs, dismissive. "And the Dynast's rob food from people's mouths, enslave nations, crush dissent with fire and sword, and murder the worlds heroes before anybody can tell how they'll turn out. Half the 'precedent' they cite are either thousands of years out of date, lies or seriously distorted. The Guild is probably just as bad, most times."

"I could step out of this room and go on a killing spree that would paint this city red. Half the people in this room probably could! But we don't, because we're not complete jerks. That's got nothing to do with resisting the demonic influence of the Anethema or whatever, and everything to do with just being people."

"I... Agh!" Shah breaks off, obviously getting more than a little worked up. "We'll talk, okay? Later. When I'm not making a scene while people make important plans."

[Lix Lorn]

The despot listens, letting several speak at once before giving a careful speech, trying to cover several points at once, rather than replying to each person one at a time. This also has the benefit of letting her listen to the 'group' she has assembled.

"Some Immaculate monks got into a major disagreement with someone who matters very, very much to me." the despot replied. "Namely... the immaculates were convinced that they were an Anathema, and attempted to kill them. They were right. It ended badly for them."

She looks up, gaze intense. "I have yet to see any proof that the anathema are worse than any other men. They can be cruel, corrupt, and destructive, yes. But they can be good, honourable, leaders and creators. Both are easy for them. Their power is only power, and power is not evil." she says, nodding at both Ashur and the 'demon blooded' Demise. "I refuse to continue the campaign of lies laid at their feet, to hunt them down, or to deny their powers. Gem is a haven for them. Having some of the chosen at the negotiations could show them that I won't be budged on this point... which will likely lead to war. But some things are worth fighting for..."

Her impassioned speech pauses, and her speech changes subtly, from the note of someone clearly raised for power to a personal one. "...and if you find them, please ask them to come see me. No-one's seen them since their fight."

"...as for the legions, I think we have time." she nods to Brasla. "With respect, I had hoped you would work on our defences. It's been a long time since someone even threatened an attack on Gem, and our siege engineers are... nonexistent. Regardless, the Realm is a long way off. An actual attack would be some time away. I'm more worried about some of the threats I've been hearing. I fear forces from beyond are looking at Gem, from Malfeas to the Underworld. They're the part that I'm worried about."

She looks to Camdaimonia.
"Anything you need to buy in Gem, we can pay for. On that note, I've had the building next to this emptied. There should be space there for any of you that wish to stay, and it could serve as a base of operations, if you need one."

She sighs, trying hard not to enter into the building argument, and instead looks at Ivory. "I'm sure you'll find it worth it. The people of Gem are... well, honestly, a little selfish, but that's no uncommon flaw. They're good people. They'll save a life if they can, give chances to those beneath them - even the people they tread upon will receive a hand to get up, if they can fight for it."

[Mechanix]

"You can call me Demise," the Infernal said with a smile at Ashur's awkward pronunciation of her name, "if you do not find it too foreboding. I personally care little for omens, but I find that my title sends a particular message to my opponents." She stretched leisurely as the conversation evolved far from her immediate concern, staring at all around her; this room contained an unusual concentration of Exalts, and she was itching to use her supernatural perceptions to learn more, but subtlety would profit her more in these circumstances.

She smirked when she heard Shah's answers. Well, for some of us at least, it is a matter of resisting demonic influence. "Beautiful speech, Despot. I can at least vouch that this city is worth fighting for; it's what I intend to do here. Probably better to leave the philosophy to later, after we've saved the city from impending doom. I unfortunately do not have much more expertise to offer than that which ends at the tips of my knuckles." Suddenly, a thought flashed in her head. "Actually I would probably be a good addition to this diplomatic mission. I, hum, how to say? I have never met anyone who could lie to me."

[Maugan Ra]

"A sensible enough policy." Ashur acknowledges, nodding to the Despot. "I think I will take a room in that building, then. It makes sense."

He considers. "I would like to continue the discussions with... well, with quite a few different people, it seems... at a later time. For now though, and aside from the matter of the diplomatic situation... does Gem have an army? A defense force, or even a contracted mercenary group for long-term city-wide protection? As I said, I am new to this city. If so, I believe I could train with them, so that we can be ready if anything negative happens."

A small smile. Give me a month, and I can turn a band of untrained civilians into a force to equal the finest Imperial Legion. Men and women such as that, behind walls improved by the Jadeborn, would be quite a deterrent against anybody, be they mortal, demon or undead."

[Ifni]

Oh, Maidens. Glass recognizes the sword in the Solar's hands.

An old memory crystal, still as pristine as the day it was etched in a First-Age factory. Historical weapons, to most of Creation, but Sidereal artificers still study the designs; many of them are still in use by the Aerial Legion. Not this one, though. The crafters of the Cerulean Lute have tried adapting the Essence flows, to bind to other animas, but the swords thus created, while glorious, are not the same.

It is a memory of wars millennia past, and it burns, obviously attuned.

She takes a rather shaky breath and folds her hands together to keep them from trembling. Even if anyone notices, fear is hardly a surprising response here.

When was one of those found?

She places a hand briefly on Victory's arm; calm. And then listens, nodding slightly in approval at the shard commander's words, although she has to hide a rueful smile. Oh, Jadeborn, if I sent a report tonight to the right person, describing this gathering, you might not have a week, much less a month...

But that would be the end, as well, of her mission. So.

Dawn, Full Moon, unspecified but probably a Solar... lovely. The Jadeborn seems unlikely to be a problem. That still leaves the possibly-demon-blooded Demise (who the Despot, at least, seems to believe is Exalted, and nobody can lie to me sounds very Solar), the archer Camdaimonia, and the two others.

She manages, with difficulty, to avoid a visible reaction when the Despot gives her speech. Oh, wonderful. No wonder the place is a fate snarl.

But... right. She will have to send a report, but for the moment, she has a mission, and it is not - actually - stop Gem from turning into a base for a Bull of the South, et al. It might become that, but for now - not your job. Observe, report, stay safe, focus on the actual goal.

[Crumplepunch]

"Unfortunately, if the Order has already been alerted to the presence of the Exalted in Gem, their legion will ride at the back of a full Wyld hunt. I respect your stand for principal, Despot, but I implore you to attempt diplomacy to buy us time. Given a month, I can build Gem's natural defensive position into a fortification that will tax any army. Given three or more, Gem will be impregnable to any force of the second age."

"Speaking of which, I think we should hear more about these other forces that threaten you."

The floor in front of Brasla ripples again, this time rising into a scale sculpture of Gem, nestled in the side of a great mountain, surrounded by an expanse of desert. Miniature walls and earthworks grow around it, and nestled batteries of catapults and cannon appear. She lists off her requirements, not taking her eyes off the shifting model.

"Hmm. You may have no masons, but you have miners. I'll need work teams and foremen. Steel, good bronze. Any wood you can get your hands on, yew and ironwood especially. Some decent leatherwork, yeddim maybe. Any craftsman you can lay your hands on, thaumaturges especially. Sorcerers if you have. I will require access to your workshops and weapon foundries. At least a dozen good furnace gems. I'll want to review provisions and water supplies. Oh, and I'll need an Exalted officer, if you have one to spare. And a retainer for any other materials."

She looks up and the model sinks back into the ground.

"I also understand the previous Despot had a collection of exotic weapons, some of a very impressive sort. With your leave, I'd like to take a look and see if there's anything I can press into service."

[Maugan Ra]

"Pass a copy of your material requirements to me, artificer." Ashur says, looking respectfully at Brasla. "One of the techniques I have learned is how to forge the Wyld into whatever material we require for our work... things such as Jade or Orichalcum included. It would be easiest within Pure Chaos, but access to a Borderlands would technically suffice."

He raises one hand in a warning gesture. "The materials I provide will not be ever-lasting... I have not yet worked out how to do that... but exposure to things of Creation will maintain them nicely. City walls, for example, will stand as long as the city itself remains inhabited."

[Crumplepunch]

"Hmm. Walls won't be necessary. As you can see, I am quite capable of raising earthworks myself. I can build a siegeworthy wall of basalt, glass and sandstone if I must. For other material though, your talents might well be useful, though I suspect the Despot has much of what I need to hand."

[Ifni]

The Wyld-Shaping Technique. Argh. This just keeps getting better and better. Glass is developing a distinct headache. Corolin Ra rubs her forehead, and speaks up again, tone soft and polite to a fault.

"The ambassadors arrive tomorrow, you said, Despot? Do you intend to meet with them immediately, and do you have any information on them? I have some familiarity with the Realm; though I do not stand among the Chosen, perhaps I can provide advice. War with the Realm seems something to be avoided if at all possible, especially if, as you say, your city has no shortage of other foes."

"Did any of the Immaculates survive their fight with your... friend? And while I am sure we would be glad to seek them on your behalf, a description might be helpful."

[industrious]

Fourth

"It seems that we'll be fighting on two fronts."

Fourth speaks up again, his accent rough, lower-class.

"First one being diplomacy. I leave that to my partner. Second one being the actual defense of the city itself. I know Realm tactics. If we appear too large a threat, they can always add more legions against us. But if you can...make things from...nothing...then perhaps an extended siege would be best. If we aren't dependent on farms or supply lines, we can simply outlast them. Until the Essence starts flying. Then I suppose we'll have to see how our Essence users fare."

[Crumplepunch]

"But if you can...make things from...nothing...then perhaps an extended siege would be best. If we aren't dependent on farms or supply lines, we can simply outlast them. Until the Essence starts flying. Then I suppose we'll have to see how our Essence users fare."

Tch. We have a lot of work to do before that is true. Gem is reliant on supplies from the Lap and other Realm-controlled states. Even water is a scarcity. The city is just too overpopulated to be self-sufficient in an area without croplands. Ah, with a company of Workers, I could set up underground farms enough for all, but I have none. Water is a more immediate concern though, and one I might have a solution for. I need to review our resources before I can be sure."

[Recaiden]

The archer, quietly watching, has her eyes caught by the sword. It has been a long time. Is that the same blade? It looks alike to the one the Warlord wielded. But there have been so many swords. The glory of it though, it must be at least a sister blade.

She stays out of the introductions. Somehow, I think introducing myself as Demon Princess Camdaimonia, Wretched Anathema of the Night, would not get us to saving the city any faster. Especially with that quiet woman there watching and not speaking.

Shah shrugs, dismissive. "The Guild is probably just as bad, most times."

Camdaimonia speaks up at that, after a slight laugh. "They are, the Guild. It's such a disappointment. But, they could not be great, if they were not also terrible. The Anathema, they are individuals. They may be great without being corrupt. They deserve a chance."

She looks to Camdaimonia.
"Anything you need to buy in Gem, we can pay for. On that note, I've had the building next to this emptied. There should be space there for any of you that wish to stay, and it could serve as a base of operations, if you need one."

Looking back to the Despot, she gives the slightest bow. "I will take a place there. With thanks."

"If the negotiations go...less than well, might we see that the Realm has too many troubles to carry a war all this way? They have no shortage of foes either."