Mare Internum: An Exalted Quest
- Thread starter Crumplepunch
- Start date
- Location
- ?
I didn't actually intend this as a consequential vote, but questers seem to have treated it as such, so just this once I am going to retroactively make it one.
Apologies to @JustGazzer for invalidating your vote with this decision, I hope you don't feel too strongly about it.
Going forward please try to limit votes after the first when the vote is not marked consequential. It's not a hard rule, just a matter of convenience. Commentary is more valuable than redundant votes.
Apologies to @JustGazzer for invalidating your vote with this decision, I hope you don't feel too strongly about it.
Going forward please try to limit votes after the first when the vote is not marked consequential. It's not a hard rule, just a matter of convenience. Commentary is more valuable than redundant votes.
Gargulec
impact!
- Location
- a garden
[X] Mysterious Stranger
Problem: Things are not what they are. Look up: there is a treachery in our stars. Basic relations of correspondence and correlation have been subverted. As above is no longer as below. Until proven otherwise, facts themselves are to be considered hostile agents. That is a fact, and therefore you can't trust it, nor the reality itself. This paradox may be inescapable, thus providing you with yet further evidence of a conspiracy.
Problem: Things are not what they are. Look up: there is a treachery in our stars. Basic relations of correspondence and correlation have been subverted. As above is no longer as below. Until proven otherwise, facts themselves are to be considered hostile agents. That is a fact, and therefore you can't trust it, nor the reality itself. This paradox may be inescapable, thus providing you with yet further evidence of a conspiracy.
- Location
- Brittany, France
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Maker, Builder, Breaker
I want to know what in God's name is going on with this.
I mean I doubt I'll get the answer from this thought, but at least we'll be reflecting on it.
I want to know what in God's name is going on with this.
I mean I doubt I'll get the answer from this thought, but at least we'll be reflecting on it.
Thought: Unbroken Rushes
- Location
- ?
When you were still a child, ships took your parents, along with all the other adults of your village. They would have taken you too, if you hadn't taken refuge in the temple. You journeyed to the old hermit in the mountains, an ancient, stone-hewn monk. You asked him what you should do. He told you to contemplate death. You did.
For the next few years you fought and stole to live, before you were reborn in the sea. Then you fought and stole to live some more. You found your own domain and pillaged from the tables of princes. You carved out a little kingdom of your own, before the masters came and crushed your rebellious spirit.
Then you were imprisoned. You rankled against it. They hurt you, but you always survived.
You remember sitting on a mountaintop with a boy with fantastic eyes. He could see the farms in the distant valley, miles below. He would entertain you with stories of how they lived their lives down there, of the simple pleasures of everyday existence. Who was secretly seeing someone else's husband, who stole a wheel of cheese when he thought nobody was looking, who danced the best and drank the most in the harvest fair.
At calibration, you found him there. The sky was dark, the valley shrouded save for the fires. By their light, you could see the steel-clad shadows swarming over the valley like ants, destroying those tiny lives, pulverizing them into gore. They hoisted crimson banners and danced with obscene joy amid the carnage. You felt, rather than heard, the screams. In the half-light, you saw the crops rot, ripe in the fields, where there was nobody left to hunger.
You asked the boy what he saw.
"The future." he said.
You never saw him again. His body was not uncovered from the foot of the cliff face until the spring thaw. Year by year, they made you into their instrument, but you never forgot what awaited you. You never let go of the hate.
Unbroken Rushes
Stealth: +2 (We Act in the Shadows)
Navigate: +1 (Know the Better World)
Presence: +1 (Revolutionary Fervor)
Embassy: -1 to Dynasts and Realm patriots only. (Offputting Intensity)
Presence: -2 to Dynasts and Realm patriots only. (Misplaced Loyalties)
Special: Gain additional subversive dialogue options.
This thought is complete. If you choose, you can remove the completed Unbroken Rushes and replace it with another thought in response to this post or a future post during which you are asleep.
You started thinking about Maker, Builder, Breaker (24 hours). You are also currently thinking about The Opening Gate (30 hours).
[ ] Replace Unbroken Rushes.
[ ] Leave Unbroken Rushes in place.
For the next few years you fought and stole to live, before you were reborn in the sea. Then you fought and stole to live some more. You found your own domain and pillaged from the tables of princes. You carved out a little kingdom of your own, before the masters came and crushed your rebellious spirit.
Then you were imprisoned. You rankled against it. They hurt you, but you always survived.
You remember sitting on a mountaintop with a boy with fantastic eyes. He could see the farms in the distant valley, miles below. He would entertain you with stories of how they lived their lives down there, of the simple pleasures of everyday existence. Who was secretly seeing someone else's husband, who stole a wheel of cheese when he thought nobody was looking, who danced the best and drank the most in the harvest fair.
At calibration, you found him there. The sky was dark, the valley shrouded save for the fires. By their light, you could see the steel-clad shadows swarming over the valley like ants, destroying those tiny lives, pulverizing them into gore. They hoisted crimson banners and danced with obscene joy amid the carnage. You felt, rather than heard, the screams. In the half-light, you saw the crops rot, ripe in the fields, where there was nobody left to hunger.
You asked the boy what he saw.
"The future." he said.
You never saw him again. His body was not uncovered from the foot of the cliff face until the spring thaw. Year by year, they made you into their instrument, but you never forgot what awaited you. You never let go of the hate.
Unbroken Rushes
Stealth: +2 (We Act in the Shadows)
Navigate: +1 (Know the Better World)
Presence: +1 (Revolutionary Fervor)
Embassy: -1 to Dynasts and Realm patriots only. (Offputting Intensity)
Presence: -2 to Dynasts and Realm patriots only. (Misplaced Loyalties)
Special: Gain additional subversive dialogue options.
This thought is complete. If you choose, you can remove the completed Unbroken Rushes and replace it with another thought in response to this post or a future post during which you are asleep.
You started thinking about Maker, Builder, Breaker (24 hours). You are also currently thinking about The Opening Gate (30 hours).
[ ] Replace Unbroken Rushes.
[ ] Leave Unbroken Rushes in place.
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ThatGazzer
Minds Eye Bind
- Location
- PNW
- Pronouns
- They/Them
[X] Leave Unbroken Rushes in place.
Damn that's cool we should keep it
Damn that's cool we should keep it
Now That You Are Pure 1
- Location
- ?
PART 2: NOW THAT YOU ARE PURE
That damn file is back. The sculptor's file, with its horrible serated surfaces, being hammered meticulously into your skull by an invisible hobgoblin. The horse's hooves are echoing this time, and coming from somewhere to your left, making the hammer-beats of incremental pain faster and more erratic. You decide that in this scenario the hobgoblin is drunk.
You wish you were drunk.
Your eyes open to find only swaying shadows, looming disorientingly across your field of vision. You smell straw and horse, hear the creak of wood, the faint clink of ceramic or glass, the rumble of wheels. A cart?
A few experimental actions follow. You turn your head and suffer a sharp jolt of pain for your hubris as you grind your bones against stiffened muscle and tendon. You try to move your arms and cannot. Your legs, the same. Your shoulders respond in a limited fashion. Your tongue refuses to raise to the parched roof of your mouth. You try to speak, and only a slurred mumble emerges.
You hear the ruffle of disturbed fabric and a shaft of sunlight sears your vision. As your eyes adjust to the radiance, you make out the bright face of Brindle.
BRINDLE: "Oh, you're awake, lady. I'll just, er, get the Talonlord." he seems embarassed. "Just, uh, sit tight there."
He looks like he's going to correct himself, but thinks better of it, and ducks out of view.
You have a few moments to yourself. Your spatial reasoning slowly filters through to tell you that this sunlit opening is at the rear of a covered wagon, which means you are leaning against the left part of the front arch. That doesn't explain why you can't move, though. Are you still poisoned?
Poison. The memory hits slowly, like a wave over a long beach. Fincher poisoned you. You're not sure how to feel about that.
You hear footsteps approaching and Fincher enters the rear of the wagon as you are still processing this. She's much the worse for wear, missing her scarlet cloak and splattered with black mud. Looks like the road has been difficult.
You try to greet her, but your tongue once again does not respond. She reaches towards you without a word. You try to pull away, but your unresponsive body just ends up slamming your head against the arch of the wagon.
She removes the cloth gag from your mouth and tosses it aside.
FINCHER: "Afternoon, boss."
"Fincher." The word is a dry croak. "Why was I gagged?"
FINCHER: "Kept shouting unsettling shit while you were asleep. Not the worst of your worries, anyway." She gestures down.
You look down at your legs. Now that the wagon is open to the afternoon sunlight, you can see that they are tied together at the knee and ankle with neatly bound rope. You realize that your arms don't move because they are similarly bound behind your back, around the wagon arch.
"Ah."
FINCHER: "Yeah. Ah."
[ ] Am I a prisoner?
[ ] You need to untie me. I still need to find the secret infiltrator.
[ ] Can you untie me, please? I'm sorry about what happened.
[ ] You look rough.
That damn file is back. The sculptor's file, with its horrible serated surfaces, being hammered meticulously into your skull by an invisible hobgoblin. The horse's hooves are echoing this time, and coming from somewhere to your left, making the hammer-beats of incremental pain faster and more erratic. You decide that in this scenario the hobgoblin is drunk.
You wish you were drunk.
Your eyes open to find only swaying shadows, looming disorientingly across your field of vision. You smell straw and horse, hear the creak of wood, the faint clink of ceramic or glass, the rumble of wheels. A cart?
A few experimental actions follow. You turn your head and suffer a sharp jolt of pain for your hubris as you grind your bones against stiffened muscle and tendon. You try to move your arms and cannot. Your legs, the same. Your shoulders respond in a limited fashion. Your tongue refuses to raise to the parched roof of your mouth. You try to speak, and only a slurred mumble emerges.
You hear the ruffle of disturbed fabric and a shaft of sunlight sears your vision. As your eyes adjust to the radiance, you make out the bright face of Brindle.
BRINDLE: "Oh, you're awake, lady. I'll just, er, get the Talonlord." he seems embarassed. "Just, uh, sit tight there."
He looks like he's going to correct himself, but thinks better of it, and ducks out of view.
You have a few moments to yourself. Your spatial reasoning slowly filters through to tell you that this sunlit opening is at the rear of a covered wagon, which means you are leaning against the left part of the front arch. That doesn't explain why you can't move, though. Are you still poisoned?
Poison. The memory hits slowly, like a wave over a long beach. Fincher poisoned you. You're not sure how to feel about that.
You hear footsteps approaching and Fincher enters the rear of the wagon as you are still processing this. She's much the worse for wear, missing her scarlet cloak and splattered with black mud. Looks like the road has been difficult.
You try to greet her, but your tongue once again does not respond. She reaches towards you without a word. You try to pull away, but your unresponsive body just ends up slamming your head against the arch of the wagon.
She removes the cloth gag from your mouth and tosses it aside.
FINCHER: "Afternoon, boss."
"Fincher." The word is a dry croak. "Why was I gagged?"
FINCHER: "Kept shouting unsettling shit while you were asleep. Not the worst of your worries, anyway." She gestures down.
You look down at your legs. Now that the wagon is open to the afternoon sunlight, you can see that they are tied together at the knee and ankle with neatly bound rope. You realize that your arms don't move because they are similarly bound behind your back, around the wagon arch.
"Ah."
FINCHER: "Yeah. Ah."
[ ] Am I a prisoner?
[ ] You need to untie me. I still need to find the secret infiltrator.
[ ] Can you untie me, please? I'm sorry about what happened.
[ ] You look rough.
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Now That You Are Pure 2
- Location
- ?
"You look rough."
FINCHER: "What-" she scowls. "Is that supposed to be funny?"
"No, I just mea-"
FINCHER: "Most of my talon is dead before we even make landfall, I've had about two hours sleep between managing patrols and tending to the wounded, two of my scouts are killed following my orders, the only other Dragon-Blood in sight has gone rogue with paranoia and started attacking my officers, and now we're on hour ten of a forced march. I'm fucking incredible."
"I just meant the mud. Sorry to hear all that though."
She looks down at herself.
FINCHER: "Oh, that. Yeah, one of the smaller wagons got stuck and I fell into the road trying to free it on my own. At least everyone found it funny. I heard Turnip saying I did it to raise morale. I'm going to let them believe that."
[ ] Since when do we have wagons?
[ ] Weren't you trying to get to a new shelter by dawn? Why a ten hour forced march?
[ ] Have I really gone rogue with paranoia?
[ ] Why am I tied up?
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Now That You Are Pure 3
- Location
- ?
"Weren't you trying to get to a new shelter by dawn? Why a ten hour forced march?"
FINCHER: "New orders."
"You got new orders? From whom?"
FINCHER: "Dragonlord Mei."
Memories of a baleful yellow eye rise unbidden in your mind.
"She's here?"
FINCHER: "We're headed to her. Just before dawn scouts spotted her anima burning full, way to the south. If my maps are right - and I'm working from reconstructions and memories here - she's at Thazaniel, one of the island's ruined fortress-manses."
WAR: Anima beacon. It's a known strategy in the Thousand and One Actions. Find a secure place, light your anima to its brightest in the night, you can be seen for miles around. If your forces are scattered, they will know where to rally to you. Sensible play in this case, if this Dragonlord Mei can deal with whatever local attention it attracts.
"The island has ruined fortress-manses?"
FINCHER: "Yeah, three. Ashglass is built around a fourth."
You remember the looming, cyclopean double structure, with the city growing around it like barnacles on a whale.
"Why didn't we head to Thazaniel before?"
FINCHER: "Too far south. We were looking to complete our mission and get into Ashglass, remember? I only remember Thazaniel because it was going to be the staging ground for the second flight when we were to march south for the land campaign against the retreating Raigi. Guess the plan's changing."
"Are you sure it's her?"
FINCHER: "I'm sure. I've seen her anima before.
You get a flash of a monstrous face, impossibly bright, vaguely feline, with snarling, curved tusks.
"I think I have too."
She shrugs.
"So more legion survived?"
FINCHER: "It looks that way. The Dragonlord definitely did."
[ ] Can we talk about how I'm tied up?
[ ] How long until we get to Thazaniel?
[ ] What's this Mei like?
[ ] Mei is a fire aspect, right? Is it possible she killed your scouts?
[ ] Who else was on Mei's ship? They might have survived too.
- Location
- ?
I'm going to try to avoid taking custom inputs as much as possible in this quest unless they are fairly trivial flavour modifiers, just because the way voting works means I have to arbitrate the appropriateness of all of them personally without relying on the filter of a vote, and I want to avoid any misunderstandings or sore feelings over rejected votes.
(I promise you'll get an opportunity to apologise in this dialogue tree)
Feel free to do custom inputs on consequential votes though.
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Now That You Are Pure 4
- Location
- ?
"Who else was on Mei's ship? They might have survived too."
FINCHER: "Hm. It was the Sulco's Spite, one of the bigger fleet galleys. Mei's in command, but she moved off the flagship on account of her, uh, disagreements with you. There were three talons on that ship, Mercer's wing and my commander Rivers, plus Rooster's engineering talon. Two-fifty legion all, and Rooster's Exalted. Another hundred or so Paleans. Then there's the navy, I think they had a Peleps captain on that ship. And there's the sorcerer-adjunt, the Bane of Kasj."
"What kind of name is the Bane of Kasj?"
FINCHER: "One you should not shorten to 'the Bane' and definitely should not shorten to 'Kasj'. He knows a curse that will turn your- well, it's a bad time. Don't do it."
You make a mental note to not do that.
[ ] Can we talk about how I'm tied up?
[ ] How long until we get to Thazaniel?
[ ] What's this Mei like?
[ ] Mei is a fire aspect, right? Is it possible she killed your scouts?
[ ] You said Rooster was your friend, right?
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Now That You Are Pure 5
- Location
- ?
"Mei is a fire aspect, right? Is it possible she killed your scouts?"
Fincher visibly pales.
FINCHER: "No, absolutely not. For one thing she's a hero of the Realm and a commander to those two legionaries. For another thing she would have had to move..." she thinks, "about a hundred miles in three hours to get to Thazaniel after randomly appearing out of the dark to murder her own legionaries."
"I was just-"
She holds up her finger.
FINCHER: "This did not happen. Do not talk about this idea to anyone. I will find out. I am already beyond my limit with your shit, don't make it worse."
[ ] Can we talk about how I'm tied up?
[ ] How long until we get to Thazaniel?
[ ] What's this Mei like?
[ ] You said Rooster was your friend, right?