Mare Internum: An Exalted Quest

[Crumplepunch]

[x ] Do you have any lockpicks that I can use one-handed?

Click to shrink...

"Do you have any lockpicks that I can use one-handed?"

CINNAMON: "Oh, uh, no, sorry. I don't know anything about lockpicks. Captain Logris might, though?"

"Oh yeah?"

CINNAMON: "Well, she got your chest unlocked really fast. I don't know, maybe she has a key, I didn't see."

"Anything good in there?"

Cinnamon immediately blushes.

CINNAMON: "I didn't look! It's your private chest!"

INTEGRITY: She definitely looked.

"Don't worry about it. I should probably look through it, but I'm in a hurry."

CINNAMON: "Oh, uh, Captain Logris told me to tell you to stay here until she gets back."

"I have a pressing appointment with a burning monster cloud."

CINNAMON: "A what?"

"Don't worry about it."

[ ] How long is Logris going to be?
[ ] Do you know where Fincher is?
[ ] I really need to go now, can you help me get my stuff?

 

[Crumplepunch]

[X] I really need to go now, can you help me get my stuff?

Click to shrink...

"I really need to go now, can you help me get my stuff?"

CINNAMON: "I, uh... okay."

"It's okay, I won't tell Logris you helped."

CINNAMON: "Well, alright."

She moves away from the entryway for a moment and returns with a small knife and a roll of linen bandages.

CINNAMON: "You'll need to get your arm in a sling if you are going anywhere."

SAGACITY: It's true. You'll make the break worse if you just carry it hanging in the splint.

"Okay then, quick as you can."

Cinnamon cuts the rope binding your splint to the stake and helps you sit up. Your ribs creak and your back muscles protest. It's more than fatigue, you feel fresh bruises around your upper back and shoulder and a deep ache in your spine.

PHYSIQUE: Did you throw out our back too? We must have hit that tree pretty hard. Great job!

Cinnamon binds your splint to your torso with a few loops of bandage over the shoulder. It pulls at your injured muscles, but it does the job.

"Looks good to me. Are you a medic, then?"

CINNAMON: "I just know a little, from primary school."

EMBASSY: Primary schools are exclusive to the Realm upper classes. She is almost certainly a patrician or dynast. Cinnamon is an unusual given name for someone of high social class, though.

No time to pull at that thread now, though.

"I had a sword. And a hammer."

CINNAMON: "Yes, right, your hammer, it's just over here. Just, uh, give me a minute."

She disappears back through the curtain, leaving you alone.

You look to your chest. Cinnamon said Logris unlocked it. You could spend some time looking through it, but you're not sure how much you have to spend.

[ ] Search the chest thoroughly.
[ ] Have a quick look through.
[ ] Ignore it and follow Cinnamon into the main tent.

 

[Crumplepunch]

[X] Have a quick look through.

Click to shrink...

The chest pops open with a satisfying click and a gentle sigh of released air. The finely made chest was airtight, which is just as well, given that it must have been underwater at some point.

The most obvious object within is some sort of garment of dark material. You grab it one-handed and try to pull it clear and immediately drop it. It's much heavier than you were expecting. Preparing more carefully you lift it clear and lay it down on your pallet to examine it. It's a quilted, knee-length gambeson with segments of rugged, waterproof canvas, reinforced in vital areas by panels of stiff dark leather.

CRAFT: It's also reinforced with metal, probably small interlocking plates bound in fabric within the quilted panels. It's heavy but very durable and restricts movement only minimally. A good choice for an Exalt. Its also exactly your size. Probably tailored.

Fantastic. Now you just have to figure out how to wear it with your right arm broken.

After a few attempts you manage to balance it over your shoulders while you shimmy your left arm through the sleeve and carefully close the topmost of the blued-steel clasps on the front. The gambeson hangs loose over your sling on the right side, but offers its full protection to your left.

CRAFT: Well, it's better than nothing.

You look into the chest. The rest of the contents are a jumble of boxes, jars and packages wrapped in brown wax-paper and tied with string. You spend a few moments poking around to try to figure out what they are, to limited success.

Well, you decided to only look briefly. You pick one to open to satisfy your curiosity.

[ ] Pick the plain wooden box.
[ ] Pick the small paper package.
[ ] Pick the unmarked clay jar.
[ ] Pick the wax-stoppered horn.
[ ] Pick the scroll tube.
[ ] Pick the unmarked book bound with string.

 

[Crumplepunch]

[X] Pick the unmarked book bound with string.

Click to shrink...

The book immediately catches your attention. Maybe it's a journal! That sure would be convenient.

You pull it out and, with some effort, untie the knot one-handed. It's a formal declaration from the Empress about the might of the legions? No, thats just the first page. It's some kind of military treatise. You skim through a few pages.

WAR: AVERAGE

CHECK PASSED

WAR: This is an unabridged and unannotated copy of the Thousand Correct Actions of the Upright Soldier with an imperial foreword.

What does that mean?

WAR: Unabridged copies are typically supplied to officers. Copies made for civilian use are almost always annotated by well-regarded generals. Officers are expected to make their own annotations.

So I'm a legion officer?

WAR: Well, we knew that, right? We're not a Dynast and we're definitely not a monk. Anyway, the copy with the imperial foreward is only circulated to officers of winglord or above.

Wait, we outrank Fincher?

WAR: Or we got this from someone who does.

So what's this book about?

WAR: It's the official imperial treatise of military strategy and conduct, focusing on parables concerning the actions of The Shogun. It predates the Realm by at least three centuries. Every soldier in the legion is supposed to have an abridged or unabridged copy, though in practice the majority are illiterate.

Well, maybe it will have some helpful advice. Not really much use right now, though.

EMBASSY: Logris might appreciate it. She was complaining about not having any books.

[X] Check Inventory

Click to shrink...

Spoiler: Inventory

APPAREL
Torn Officer's Tunic (Apparel, Chest) - A light summer-cut tunic in scarlet linen, legion officer issue. It is torn and riddled with small holes.
Ruined Boots (Apparel, Shoes) - Once-fine leather footwear ruined by hard use and a lengthy soaking in the sea. If these boots could tell stories they would probably be very long and tedious with occasional bouts of kicking things.
Sturdy Breeches (Apparel, Legs) - A hard-wearing sheepskin garment, covering the legs down to mid-calf. Uncomfortable, but endued with admirable structural probity. Now finally dry.
Tailored Gambeson (Apparel, Armor) - A highly durable suit of fabric and metal armor tailored for your build. What a thoughtful gift from your past self. Smells a bit dusty, it must have been in that box a while.

WEAPONS:
None.

OTHER:
The Thousand Correct Actions of the Upright Soldier - A military treatise, widely distributed to every officer of the Imperial Legion and widely read besides. This copy belonged to an officer of high rank.
Imperial Seal - This heavy jade signet ring marks its bearer as an imperial magistrate acting under the plenipotentiary authority of the Scarlet Empress. Who in their right mind would give you such a thing? ([ ] Interact with Imperial Seal)
Fingers - These are your fingers. One of them is missing. It's a mystery. ([ ] Interact with fingers.)
Reflection - This is a face that you are in and you hate it. ([ ] Interact with reflection.)

Cinnamon returns with your hammer and sheathed sword, plus a cotton sash.

CINNAMON: "Oh, you found your armor."

"I thought you said you didn't look in my trunk."

CINNAMON: "I, uh, I was there when Captain Logris opened it. I'm sorry!"

"It's okay. I don't really care about my privacy that much. I mean, obviously."

Cinnamon helps you tie the sash under the armored jacket and tuck the hammer in there. After discarding a few options, you tuck the hawk sword into a helpful fabric loop on the gambeson's interior under your sling, allowing for a quick left-hand draw.

CINNAMON: "Oh, there was one more thing. The, er, the very big legion smith, he came by earlier and asked Captain Logris to give you this."

She holds out a small oblong wooden box.

"Oh, Rooster?"

CINNAMON: "Is that his name? I, uh, I think he forgot to introduce himself. Anyway, Captain Logris didn't tell me to give it to you, but I think she would want you to have it. If you insist on leaving anyway, I mean."

"Thanks, Cinnamon."

[ ] Open the box.
[ ] Tell Cinnamon to hang onto it for later, you're in a hurry.

 

[Crumplepunch]

[X] Open the box.

Click to shrink...

You pop open the box.

Inside, a finger lies on a white cloth. Cinnamon shrieks and drops the box with a clatter.

"It's okay! It's just a prosthetic. See? It's made of wood."

CINNAMON: "Oh! Oh, I'm sorry, that was... I wasn't ready for that."

"Sorry, I should have warned you."

You pick up the finger. It does look stunningly realistic, except for being made of dark polished wood and possessing two articulated joints. You lay it down on top of the sea chest and hold up the fingers of your left hand next to it. It matches perfectly in length, and the width only varies where it has to widen to overlap with the remaining part of your missing finger. He even captured the unusually shallow bed of your fingernails.

CRAFT: This is amazing work.

The prosthetic finger is hollow up to the second knuckle joint where your own finger terminates.

SAGACITY: Your metacarporphalangeal.

Your what?

SAGACITY: Metacarporphalangeal. That's the bone where your finger ends.

Right, that. There is a system of straps to attach the base of the missing finger to the base of your middle finger.

"Hey Cinnamon, could you help me attach this?"

CINNAMON: "Oh, right, yes, I see."

She gingerly takes the finger and helps you afix it in place.

The interior is padded with soft felt. Quite comfortable.

FINGER 4: What is this betrayal, mother!? A simulacral outsider usurps our fallen brother?

FINGER 3: See how it affixes itself to me in ghoulish facsimile!

CRAFT: Try moving it. There's a surprise.

A surprise? You're not sure you want a finger surprise.

CRAFT: Go on, give it a go.

You clench your hand into a fist. The finger clenches as well. You straighten out your fingers, the prosthetic follows suit.

FINGER 2: I LIVE.

FINGER 1: Infamy! Calumny! Apocalypse!

FINGER 4: It is a cuckoo in our nest! An exanimate finger-homunculus!

THUMB 1: Oh, shut up.

Wait, Rooster said it wasn't going to be magic. How is this possible?

FINGER 2: I DON'T KNOW.

CRAFT: It has three spring-loaded points of articulation that adjust depending on the angle of your first finger joint. The beveled texture on the finger interior is designed to help you grip objects. It's not perfect, but once you get used to it you'll enjoy an approximation of full grip strength. Quite ingenious, Rooster is wasted hammering out breastplates for a living.

"Well, that works."

CINNAMON: "Oh, that's so nice of him! I, uh, I admit I had no idea what he was going to give you."

"One more thing, how long is it since dawn?"

CINNAMON: "Um, a little over two hours, I think."

You have an hour, at most.

Looks like we're all ready to go. Where to now?

[ ] Look for Fincher.
[ ] Look for Logris.
[ ] Look for Mei.
[ ] Head out of camp, towards the monster.
[ ] Head out of camp, away from the monster.

 

[Crumplepunch]

[X] Look for Logris.

Click to shrink...

"Okay, where can I find Logris?"

CINNAMON: "Uh... she didn't say where she was going, but she said she would be back soon. You could just wait for her?"

"No, a magical fire monster is coming to kill me. I know because I saw it when I was asleep."

CINNAMON: "Oh. I see."

She thinks about this and visibly resolves to ignore it.

CINNAMON: "Maybe she went to get breakfast? She could have gone to the mess, but she sometimes goes to eat with captain Usamir and his officers."

"I think I know where those are. Anywhere else she could be?"

CINNAMON: "Well, uh, she keeps trying to get into the manse? Maybe she went to the checkpoint, I think she likes, uh, arguing with the guards. Or maybe she went to see miss Fincher?"

"Alright, I'll figure something out, I really should be going. Thanks for your help."

She gives you a cautious look.

CINNAMON: "If you need, uh, well, the outhouse is just around the corner, um, on the next row."

PRESENCE: Oh no.

"Cinnamon, I need you to understand this. I don't need to use the outhouse. I am evading the pursuit of a magical assassin whose presence was revealed to me in a phantasmagorical vision."

CINNAMON: "Okay. I believe you."

INTEGRITY: She does not believe you.

You sigh and turn to leave.

[ ] Go to the mess area.
[ ] Go to Usamir's tent.
[ ] Look for where Fincher is being held.
[ ] Go to the manse entrance checkpoint.

 

[Crumplepunch]

[X] Look for where Fincher is being held.

Click to shrink...

Well, you could find both of them? Either way, Fincher is probably easier to locate.

You step out into the daylight. Like every day on this island, it is uniformly overcast, but at least it's not raining. This part of the camp seems relatively quiet, though you hear the distant hammering of Rooster's workshop to the south and the occasional kiai from a practice yard somewhere to the east.

Fincher's tent, where Orison turned you away yesterday, is probably empty, but you may be able to find something about her location there. Or just snoop around. Alternatively, you could go to where you now people are and ask around.

[ ] Go to Fincher's tent.
[ ] Go to her talon's camp.
[ ] Go to Rooster's workshop.
[ ] Go to the practice yards.
[ ] Go to the mess area.

 

[Crumplepunch]

[x] Go to Fincher's tent.

Click to shrink...

You mentally draw up your rough map of Sulco camp. Last time you visited Fincher's tent you came from the mess area at the eastern edge of camp. It should be somewhere to the south of here.

NAVIGATE: NORMAL

CHECK FAILED

You get turned around in the endless rows of tents and spend precious minutes trying to find your bearings before heading in the right direction.
NAVIGATE: Are you certain you didn't suffer a head wound?

Maybe you did. How would you know?

Fincher's tent isnt guarded by Orison or anyone else. There's also nobody around to complain about you slipping inside.

AWARENESS: VERY DIFFICULT

CHECK PASSED

AWARENESS: Wait. There is someone.

You freeze.

STEALTH: We should hide.

PRESENCE: That's what you always say.

AWARENESS: There's someone inside. Canvas creaks on metal. Legion uniform, not an officer.

EMBASSY: Possibly someone who isn't meant to be there either?

Hmm, how to approach?

[ ] Sneak inside, try to obseve what is happening.
[ ] Enter and announce yourself.
[ ] Abandon this approach and search elsewhere.

 

[Crumplepunch]

[X] Enter and announce yourself.

Click to shrink...

You sweep into the tent like you are gatecrashing a party and you want everyone to see what you are wearing.

"Behold!"

Brindle drops what he was holding on the folding desk and does an impressive combination of stumbling backwards with shock and turning to face you.

BRINDLE: "Oh, uh, magistrate, how are, I was just..."

As you anticipated, the young legionary is wearing his too-large uniform, sans helmet. His expression is pure panic.

"Hey Brindle. What are you doing in Fincher's tent?"

Momentary confusion flickers over his features.

BRINDLE: "I was just... collecting some papers... for... talonlord Fincher?"

You look to the desk behind him. Piles of papers covered in closely-regimented script. Maps, wax-sealed letters.

AWARENESS: DIFFICULT

CHECK PASSED

AWARENESS: No candleholder.

Why does that matter?

CRAFT: Wax seals. No flame to melt sealingwax.

Maybe she took the candle with her.

AWARENESS: Also pretty sure that giant sword is too big for Fincher.

You look at the freestanding weapon mounting next to the rumpled pallet. It's a swordspear with a broad, cleaver-like blade. It's taller than you, maybe heavier as well.

WAR: And the seals are for a dragonlord.

Oh, right.

"Wait a moment..."

Brindle sweats visibly.

[ ] I've got the wrong tent, see you later.
[ ] What are you doing in Mei's tent?
[ ] Did you find anything good?
[ ] Okay, never mind that, where's Fincher?

 

[Crumplepunch]

[X] What are you doing in Mei's tent?

Click to shrink...

"What are you doing in Mei's tent?"

He swallows.

BRINDLE: "I was just collecting some papers for talonlord Fincher."

"Isn't Fincher in lockup?"

Brindle nods.

"Specifically in lockup for arguing with Mei?"

Brindle shrugs and nods.

"And what papers are you collecting for her?"

BRINDLE: "Look, uh, can we talk about this somewhere else? If she finds us here I'm pretty sure we're both dead."

[ ] You're right, let's get out of here.
[ ] No, I am enjoying this fleeting feeling of control.
[ ] No way, I'm going to look for stuff too.