Mare Internum: An Exalted Quest

[Crumplepunch]

[X] (Remain quiet)

Click to shrink...

You remain silent and look outside awkwardly as Mei rummages through her belongings. There is a clink of metal on metal, a creak of hinges, a rustle of paper.

MEI: "Alright, good to go."

Her face is slightly muffled, distorted by a faint metallic flanging effect. You turn to face her and instead see a fanged demonic visage looming over you. You stumble back, startled.

MEI: "Boo."

The masked helmet looks like something from a profane shrine, a snarling, vaguely feline face remeniscent of both tiger and dragon. Its left eye is closed, the right is accenuated with a ring of ruddy brass that highlights the stark yellow of Mei's pupil.

CRAFT: This is excellent workmanship. The whole helmet is structured asymmetrically to strengthen it around the axis of Mei's central field of vision, with her head angled to the side to focus her eye.

"Rooster's work?"

Mei cocks her head to one side, a gesture unavoidably reminiscent of a great cat sizing up prey.

MEI: "I don't like that you know my people."

You shrug, unsure of what to say.

She walks past you without another word, you follow.

One of the officers that has been following you both offers up another slate to Mei.

OFFICER: "Just arrived, Dragonlord. You should see this."

She pauses to read it and hands it back.

MEI: "Well, fuck."

"What happened?"

MEI: "Scout report, forest fire spreading towards the camp. Looks like your delusion is getting more likely. Runner!"

She scrawls another order on the proferred slate.

MEI: "Make sure he reads it, don't listen to any of his shit."

The girl nods vigorously and withdraws.

MEI: "I'm sending Usamir and his irregulars to the western pallisade. Navy can fight fire well enough, if nothing else."

"Makes sense."

A flash of color and movement in the sky catches your attention. Something brilliant and blue-green, darting like an arrow. You've seen no birds or insects on the island so far, and this doesn't look quite like either. Mei follows your gaze.

MEI: "And that'll be the demon."

The sky looks a deeper grey than it did this morning. Perhaps it's going to rain again.

MEI: "So you say this thing is after you, specifically. Let's say I accept that. What do you think we should do about it?"

[ ] Well, I could just go and kill it myself, that would solve the problem.
[ ] Maybe I should run off in another direction to draw it away.
[ ] I could head outside the camp and try to lure it into a trap.
[ ] I thought maybe you could kill it before it gets anywhere near me.
[ ] I guess I should go to the most secure part of the camp so I am well defended.

 

[Crumplepunch]

[x ] I could head outside the camp and try to lure it into a trap.

Click to shrink...

"I could head outside the camp and try to lure it into a trap."

MEI: "Not much time to set up a trap. We've got some stakes and trenches set up out there to deal with cavalry approaches. I guess we could use them. Colter, how are we on bows?"

The second officer following you, an older man, answers.

COLTER: "Still few, dragonlord. Maybe twenty."

MEI: "Fighting a fucking land war with twenty bows, honestly."

She spots your questioning look.

MEI: "Most of them got soaked in the wreck, curing the wood and drying the sinew takes time. We've only got a few replacements so far."

WAR: That thing is on fire. Mortals fighting it probably shouldn't get close.

"Javelins, then?"

MEI: "Javelins and pikes sound like the best bet. It's going to be rough. Send out the order for second talon to head to the western forward trench, Colter."

Colter briskly salutes and withdraws.

"So what now?"

MEI: "We get to the palisades. Follow."

Something swift, gold and glittering moves in your peripheral vision. On reflex, you draw your sword, an underhand cross-draw. At the same time, the officer behind you draws her own sword, a legion short sword, and points it at you.

HAWK SWORD: Have at you!

The source of the disturbance is a tiny humanoid about the size of your hand, with golden skin, a disproportionately large head and multiple insectoid wings. It hovers next to Mei. It glances at you dismissively before turning to her.

WEIRD BUG THING: "Dragonlord."

Its voice is lugubrious and throaty, entirely unlike what you might expect such a thing to sound like.

MEI: "Report."

WEIRD BUG THING: "The agata is poorly suited to reconaissance alone due to its poetical disposition, but I have gleaned what I can from its rambling. The source of the fire is moving directly across the western path. Other things are moving with it, but I could not determine what that meant. Meanwhile there is also movement to the north. Moving stone, apparently."

MEI: "Explain."

WEIRD BUG THING: "As I said, specific information is difficult to extract from the demon's testimony. If you would consent to my request to send up a rider-"

MEI: "Absolutely not."

WEIRD BUG THING: "Then my report is concluded. I return to the important work of shipwrighting."

The creature flies off into the sky before you can react.

MEI: "Alright, alright, put those away."

The officer sheathes her sword immediately, you hesitate.

"Was that the Bane of Kadj? He's smaller than I expected."

MEI: "One of his creatures. It talks in his voice."

You sheathe your sword.

MEI: "At least we know you can fast draw with your left."

WAR: DIFFICULT

CHECK PASSED

"'Moving stone' could mean they are coming across the mountains."

MEI: "A coordinated attack. Makes sense, trying to keep the element of surprise. Mercer, who has the northern pass this morning?"

The whipcord older woman who just pointed a sword at you gives you a narrow look before replying.

MERCER: "Fourth talon and the engineer-adjunt, dragonlord."

MEI: "Well, fuck."

"What?"

MEI: "Rooster's up there."

"Wait, you send Rooster to fight?"

She rounds on you, eye narrowing to match the anger of her snarling mask.

MEI: "I am the commanding legion officer here. I send people to fight. That is literally my job, you absolute candlestick."

"What if there's another one of those things? Do you think he can handle it?"

MEI: "We don't even know what the fuck it is, how can I answer that?"

"Well, we know one of them was sent to kill me."

Mei exhales slowly.

MEI: "Yeah, I don't know if Rooster could handle it."

"Aren't there any other Dragon-Bloods who could back him up?"

She shakes her head but does not elaborate further.

WAR: You're facing an attack on two fronts with unknown forces. Your attacker is coming from the west, so you have to face it there. Usamir, his auxilliaries and the second talon are on the western palisade. Rooster and the fourth talon are holding the northern pass.

[ ] You should go to the north pass to back him up, I can handle things here.
[ ] The north pass is better defended, I think Rooster can manage.

This is a consequential decision, please vote.

 

[Crumplepunch]

[X] You should go to the north pass to back him up, I can handle things here.

Click to shrink...

"You should go to the north pass to back him up, I can handle things here."

Mei considers this.

MEI: "Thoughts, wing?"

MERCER: "Brevet winglord Usamir and the magistrate on the west flank, you and the engineer-adjunt to the north. It makes sense, provided she takes orders."

MEI: "Don't count on that. Just stand behind her and try to adapt. It's not your responsibility to keep her alive."

"I'm still here, you know."

MEI: "Yeah, I know. Why are you still here? Get to the fucking front. Colter is in charge."

"Alright, I'm going. It's this way, right?"

MEI: "No, that way. We'll talk later if you don't die."

PRESENCE: See? We'll talk later! Our relationship is improving.

INTEGRITY: That felt threatening. Still, I wonder why she's being so much nicer today?

EMBASSY: This is nice?

INTEGRITY: Nicer. You know, non-murdery.

You realize belatedly that you haven't really been able to focus on your surroundings as you have moved through the camp, only your now-absent conversation. Your mind is adrift. The tents are blurs of vague, muted color against the grey sky.

Occasional flashes of scarlet throb in your vision like splashes of blood. You stumble in the dust and almost fall. A sharp tinnitus whine fills your ears.

ATHLETICS: Focus. You can do it. One foot at a time.

NAVIGATE: It's not far now.

PHYSIQUE: We can keep it together.

WAR: People are relying on us.

INTEGRITY: Try to hold on. Think about something real.

[ ] Think about how you feel physically.
[ ] Think about how you feel emotionally.
[ ] Think about other people.
[ ] Think about the numbers.

 

[Crumplepunch]

[X] Think about other people.

Click to shrink...

Other people are more important than you. You are doing this for them.

You can do more for them than you can for yourself.

Thinking about that gives you some focus. You should give the thought shape, while you can.

Who should you think about?

[ ] Logris
[ ] Fincher
[ ] Mei
[ ] Orison
[ ] Toothsome
[ ] Rooster
[ ] Brindle
[ ] Feathers
[ ] Cinnamon
[ ] Usamir
[ ] Izumherat
[ ] Bowery
[ ] The Reflection

One per voter. The first three votes will be counted.

 

[Crumplepunch]

[X]Rooster

Click to shrink...

You think about Rooster.

Nothing. A dull wall of rubbery non-thought rebuffs you. You feel your face slacken.

Hey everyone, opinions on Rooster?

CRAFT: Rooster is excellent.

Yeah, but why?

CRAFT: He likes things and makes good things.

NAVIGATE: Rooster is on the north end of camp.

Okay, thanks. Anyone else?

ATHLETICS: He said you kicked him in the face.

Huh, I guess he did say that.

ATHLETICS: That must have been an amazing jump!

Oh yeah?

PHYSIQUE: Because he's BIG.

Right, he is big, isn't he?

PHYSIQUE: I like his BIGNESS.

Okay, so he's big and he likes making things. What else have we got?

STEALTH: It's difficult to hide him.

Because he's big, yeah, but what else?

AWARENESS: He smells of charcoal.

Because he was working in a forge, I get it.

SAGACITY: Rooster is bad at languages.

Does anyone have anything useful?

EMBASSY: He's really bad at keeping secrets, so he's probably not lying to you.

Right, now we're getting somewhere.

PRESENCE: He is good at giving hugs.

That is also true.

INTEGRITY: Deep down, he is very sad.

What?

INTEGRITY: Everyone knows some version of the story. A child goes to war, and they lose something of themselves. It happens all over Creation.

Maybe we could make things better.

WAR: Well, first, there's a monster to kill. You can think about other stuff later.

Alright, what else are we thinking about?

[X] Mei

Click to shrink...

How do we feel about Mei?

PRESENCE: Mei is terrifying and she hates you. At least the hate seems to have downgraded from murder-hate to disdain-hate since last night.

Why do you think that is?

AWARENESS: Maybe she got some new information.

PRESENCE: Or maybe someone talked to her.

STEALTH: Maybe someone is blackmailing her to be nice.

PRESENCE: That doesn't seem very likely.

Do I think I can take her in a fight?

PRESENCE: No.

PHYSIQUE: No.

ATHLETICS: No.

NAVIGATE: Mei is travelling towards the north end of camp.

Well, alright then. What else have we got?

WAR: This camp is a disaster zone. It's a miracle she's holding anyone together. That she thinks she continue with her original objectives after losing most of the fleet and the enemy being vastly overstrength is testiment to her confidence in her abilities.

SAGACITY: Given her string of historic accomplishments and the regard she seems to be held in, I think her dislike of you is probably out of character.

CRAFT: I like her eyepatch.

What?

CRAFT: What? I like stuff, not people.

EMBASSY: She's concealing a lot from you, but I don't know why.

INTEGRITY: It's because it hurts her to talk to you. I think she's very sad.

Her too?

INTEGRITY: Yes.

Why is she sad? Everyone seems to like her. Or respect her, at least.

INTEGRITY: Maybe you should think about it.

THOUGHT UNLOCKED: The Shadowless Fire

[X] Fincher

Click to shrink...

The haze is starting to lift. The world is beginning to resolve in the light of other people. You can get it together, maybe, for a little while, if it would make things better for them. One more.

Okay, what do we think about Fincher?

PHYSIQUE: She is extremely portable.

NAVIGATE: Fincher is somewhere in the eastern edge of camp.

CRAFT: She has a spyglass which is pretty nice, I suppose.

Focus, please. Anything relevant?

STEALTH: Fincher is sneaky. Reflexively duplicitous, needlessly evasive. She's my favorite.

AWARENESS: She's got sharp senses. Maybe even sharper than yours, sometimes. She's useful to have around.

WAR: She doesn't like being an officer, but she she'll be pretty good at it with a few years practice. Loyal, too. It would have been easy for her to go to ground when her talon got seperated from the field force, but she didn't.

Alright. Could I take her in a fight?

ATHLETICS: Probably! She's pretty fast, but you've got reach.

That's good. My ego needed that.

SAGACITY: Almost every factual thing Fincher has told you since you first met has been slightly wrong.

Wait, what?

SAGACITY: She is terrible. The worst. I despair.

So she's been lying to me all this time?

EMBASSY: I don't think so. I mean, she's definitely lied some times, but most of the time I think she's just wrong a lot.

PRESENCE: I like her.

That's it? You like her?

PRESENCE: Yeah, I dunno.

INTEGRITY: However, she is very sad.

What, this again?

INTEGRITY: It is always this. To be without a cause is to feel the dissolution of self. We can act like we are above it, for a time, but the absence will always be there. And if our cause abandons us, what then?

This is about me, isn't it?

INTEGRITY: I am here to tell you how people feel, and what they need. That includes you.

Did I make them sad?

INTEGRITY: I don't know. Maybe some of them.

THOUGHT GAINED: The Rings of Saturn

So what should I do?

INTEGRITY: You should do cocaine with them as soon as possible.

I'm starting to think you aren't a reliable objective source of information.

NAVIGATE: We have reached the western pallisade area.

You blink. You hadn't realized you were still walking, but the grey stakes of the pallisade wall waver into focus, along with an alarmed looking navy regular who you almost walked into. Around you, the navy auxilliaries work in teams to bring buckets of water to fire stations, presumably seawater from the other side of camp.

A familiar voice calls out to you.

USAMIR: "I say, magistrate, you look quite dreadful. Shall I call up a physician for you so you can sit out the battle? I dare say we have things in hand."

The naval captain turned auxilliary officer looks more at ease now his superiors are not nearby. His bluish skin is flushed, and he regards you with a broad smile full of very even white teeth.

[ ] Your face looks dreadful.
[ ] (Give him the finger)
[ ] No, I am here for the sad times.
[ ] Are you sad?
[ ] I have a sword.
[ ] I broke my arm and forgot how.
[ ] Does your physician have drugs?

 

[Crumplepunch]

[X] Review Thought Cabinet

Click to shrink...

Spoiler: Thought Cabinet

The Shadowless Fire
The burning eye follows you everywhere. In the past, you have done some terrible wrong to Mei. You are more than an enemy, you are a betrayer. What was she to you? How did you know her? What did you build together, and how did you destroy it?
Presence -1 (Palpable Fear)
War +1 (A History of Conflict)
8 hours.

The Rings of Saturn
The world is a desolation. Injustice is everywhere, nothing makes sense, and everyone you like is sad. Is it just you? Is it your perspective? Is it your fault? Figure it out, and decide what to do about it.
Integrity -1 (The Guilt of Being)
Stealth +1 (Fade Away)
10 hours.

You are currently thinking about Unbroken Rushes (Complete), Maker, Builder, Breaker (Complete), and The Opening Gate (Complete) and The Dweller in Chaos (6 hours). You can change your thoughts when you sleep.

[X] Does your physician have drugs?

Click to shrink...

"Does your physician have drugs?"

USAMIR: "Yes, I should think so. Why, need a pick-me-up before battle? I just took a shot of moonflower seed, myself."

INTEGRITY: See? He gets it.

USAMIR: "Jade! Jade, get over here. The lady needs something for the pain."

Jade is an elderly, bald man in a navy doctor's white-lapeled coat. He looks at you narrowly.

JADE: "Your splint has been set in a rather amateurish way, lady. You should not fight in this condition. I recommend opium."

AWARENESS: Opium will definitely not help you fight.

"Do you have anything less debilitating?"

JADE: "There's rum."

USAMIR: "What about that wine stuff?"

Jade sighs, making no effort to hide his exasperation.

JADE: "Wine of coca is used for the treatment of weakening muscles, captain, not pain relief."

CRAFT: Wine of coca is wine with cocaine in it.

SAGACITY: Is is even more likely to cause heart attacks than regular cocaine, but I guess we're past worrying about that kind of thing.

[ ] My muscles are feeling pretty weak, give me the wine of coca.
[ ] I'm pretty thirsty, can I have some rum?
[ ] Give me that opium, I hate my senses anyway.
[ ] I don't know, have you got anything stronger?

 

[Crumplepunch]

[X] I don't know, have you got anything stronger?

Click to shrink...

"I don't know, have you got anything stronger?"

JADE: "Stronger than opium, but less debilitating than opium?"

"Yeah."

The doctor looks to Usamir for intervention, but he has moved away, shouting orders to the fire crews.

JADE: "Are you pregnant?"

"Not that I know of."

JADE: "Heart condition?"

"My heart is stitched together with moonsilver wire."

JADE: "Right. Good enough."

He rummages deep into his carry bag and produces a small bamboo box. From within, he retrieves an off-white sphere the size of a grape. He splits it in his fingers, stripping away a waxy shell to reveal a smaller, dark red sphere within.

JADE: "Bite down and swallow it immediately. You'll feel the effects within a few minutes."

"What is it?"

JADE: "Stronger than opium. Now if you'll excuse me, there are people who are actually in need of medical help."

"I have a broken arm!"

JADE: "What do you want, a prize? There's no medicine I have that can match the dragons' blood. That arm will mend in a week or less no matter what I give you. But if you want a buzz while it happens, who am I to say no?"

EMBASSY: He thinks we're just trying to score!

INTEGRITY: Aren't we?

EMBASSY: Well yeah, but he doesn't have to know that. Quick, tell a lie!

"I don't know what you mean. I have legitimate medical requirements."

JADE: "Right. Well, you enjoy those. Now, if you please, we both have actual work to do. The front is that way."

He waves a hand to the forest beyond the pallisade and marches away after Usamir.

EMBASSY: I don't think he believed us.

You look at the pill the doctor gave you. The texture is waxy and smooth. It has a faint scent to it, but you can't place it. You turn it over in your fingers. Stamped into the surface in small, neat lettering, are the characters Clear Sky.

CRAFT: It's a herbal preparation, but without breaking it down and isolating the components there's no way of knowing what is mixed in there.

Well, you didn't get this thing to just not use it. You pop it in your mouth and, as instructed, bite down.

The sphere quickly breaks down into a powdery, resinous paste, entirely without flavor. It takes you a couple of attempts to swallow the thing; your dry throat resists, and even as you feel it settle in your stomach like a rock it still feels like the thing is lodged in your throat.

INTEGRITY: He said it would take a few minutes to notice the effects.

Your organs gurgle in protest. Maybe you shouldn't have done this on an empty stomach.

You turn towards the front. For the first time, your eyes adjust properly to your surroundings. The pallisade wall is a fortifcation twice your height, formed of still-damp logs felled from the grey forests beyond. In the sky to the west, you see a dark plume of smoke, a smear of charcoal against the slate grey sky.

"I'm going out." you say, facing the gate.

USAMIR: "The trench is five hundred paces out straight west, magistrate. Legion are out there already, we'll be following you out as soon as we're provisioned. We're on firefighting duty, but I'll be damned if I'm not going to see some action when there's glory to be had."

"There is none." you reply.

Usamir says something else, but you aren't listening.

The navy teams open the door for you. The first raindrops begin to fall. You can smell the fire, the acrid smoke of damp wood burning.

Five hundred paces. Your opponent is approaching.

Even in your fragmented memories, you remember parts of your abilities. You will need to focus on them now, if you are to survive.

[ ] Focus on the tree that broke your arm.
[ ] Focus on the memory of Izumherat.
[ ] Focus on the Opening Gate.
[ ] Focus on the charge at the beach.
[ ] Focus on the movement of the water barrel.

 

[Crumplepunch]

[X] Focus on the Opening Gate.

Click to shrink...

The rain patters on the leather of your coat, you feel its coolness trickle through your hair. As you walk through the grey forest towards the fire, you contemplate the Opening Gate.

You were never inducted into a secret technique taught by an old master. You never uncovered a secret scroll that detailed a forbidden form or uncovered a hidden magic woven into the style's movements. As far as you know, the myth of the Opening Gate's hidden technique is just that.

Your secret technique came first, before you ever lifted a sword.

NAVIGATE: Four hundred paces.

You remember countless hours spent in the central training yard in the arid mountain summers. Here, you and your young Exalted peers would work to master the expressions of their Essence. Some conjured the most intense flames, some taught themselves to move as lightning or to lift massive stone blocks. A new generation of the mighty, preparing for a war they could not yet understand.

You played with a ball. You remember the ball very clearly. Slightly oblate, the size of an orange, made of undyed grey-brown rubber, pockmarked with age and exposure. You threw the ball. You caught the ball.

NAVIGATE: Three hundred paces.

Instructors assumed you were training your coordination or precision, or attempting some kind of elemental projection to guide the ball in flight. You were not. You were trying to throw and catch the ball.

Not throw then catch the ball. Throw and catch the ball, at the same time, with the same ball, in the same hand. It was not a matter of simply making the throwing motion without releasing the ball, though you did that often, by accident. Nor was it a matter of releasing the ball then catching it again before it can fly away. Each action was to be seperate and simultaneous.

NAVIGATE: Two hundred paces.

AWARENESS: Hard to see in all this smoke.

It took you over a year of training to perfect the secret; that your Essence could hold the memories of your movements. Any action sufficiently practiced to be performed by rote could be repliated by your Essence and your body simultaneously. In that year, the fires of your peers grow fierce and their lightning swift. Some could leap across the sky or split steel with their hands. You could throw a ball and catch it.

Maybe that will be enough, today.

NAVIGATE: Once hundred paces. The trench should be visible soon.

Your head is clearer now. Your stomach knots. Your muscles tense. You feel your temperature rising. Is this the effect of the medicine, or of the anticipation of violence?

AWARENSS: There they are.

You see a splash of red in the smoky gloom, near the ground. You make out the parameters of the trench. The diffuse red resolves into shapes, on which your eyes find pale, nervous faces, streaked with ash.

"Where is Colter?"

COLTER: "Here, magistrate."

The older man looks dignified in his crested helmet and crimson-dyed coat. He looks behind you expectantly.

COLTER: "Is the dragonlord not with you? The source of the fire is growing close."

"Change of plans. She's defending the north pass. Mercer and the rest of the talon are coming, Usamir is the second line of defense."

Colter nods, but there are worried glances and murmurs among the others.

COLTER: "If you're up to it, lady. We're equipped for skirmishing, light armament with slings and javelins for all the good they'll do in this murk. I hold rank here, but our approach will depend on your tactics. How do you want to proceed?"

WAR: We don't know the strength of enemy forces. Play it cautious.

PRESENCE: These people are in need of inspiration!

[ ] We should fall back to the pallisade to maximize our range advantage.
[ ] Wait for the enemy, then I'll attack to disrupt them as much as possible with your support.
[ ] Give an inspiring speech and lead everyone in a charge.

 

[Crumplepunch]

[X] Wait for the enemy, then I'll attack to disrupt them as much as possible with your support.

Click to shrink...

"Wait for the enemy, then I'll attack to disrupt them as much as possible with your support."

COLTER: "That's for the best, I think. We're too exposed to fall back or charge. Hopefully reinforcements will arrive before the charge, we're only forty here."

Colter motions for you to join him in peering over the lip of the trench. The dry grey earth reinforced with stakes gives way to a haze of smoke. Your throat tightens as you sniff the air.

COLTER: "We won't even know when-"

AWARENESS: EXCEPTIONAL

CHECK PASSED

Among the dry rustle of burning brush you hear a sharper snap and a hiss of air.

Your body moves of its own accord. The arrow that would have fatally struck Colter just under the rim of his helmet is instead held in your hand, snapped in two from the force with which you plucked it from the air.

Colter staggers back in surprise, but to his credit he reacts quickly.

COLTER: "To arms! Shields up, they attack from the smoke!"

You hear more snaps of releasing bows further into the smoke. You hear impacts of metal and flesh, cries of pain.

Without further contemplation you climb over the edge of the trench. An angry flurry of clicks greets you, like an agitated nest of insects.

CRAFT: Single wood self bows. None of the plangency of horn or compound sealant.

AWARENESS: Seventeen releases, thirty to fifty paces distant in a half-ring in front of you.

WAR: They meant to draw you out. They are here for you, after all.

You feel Essence flooding into your eyes, lengthening the time between moments. Seventeen arrows are in the air. You hear the smoke-filled air hiss on their barbed arrowheads and ruffle their mottled grey fletching.

The smoke curls ahead of you. The arrows descend... slowly.

[ ] Draw your sword and cut them down.
[ ] Dodge them.
[ ] Ignore them and charge. They can't hurt you.

 

[Crumplepunch]

[X] Draw your sword and cut them down.

Click to shrink...

Some have likened the art of swordsmanship to calligraphy. This is clearly nonsense, because your writing medium is not trying to kill you. However, there is some truth to it; a sword is a delicate implement to be swung in moderation, each stroke must be made with precision and care, yet decisiveness. To swing too hard at the wrong surface will damage your blade. To alter the angle of your swing mid-cut will damage your blade. To block a forceful attack rather than deflecting will damage your blade. A damaged blade loses its cutting edge, and a sword without a cutting edge is as useless as a blunt spear or a weightless club.

Swordsmanship itself is a specialized combat skill with narrow functions, useful primarily against lightly armored opponents at short range. The Opening Gate style in particular hyper-focuses on the ideal conditions of a duel against a single, similarly equipped opponent. Worse, with your injury you are forced to use your sabre one-handed in your non-dominant hand.

An arrow in flight can be arrested with a sword in three ways. The arrowhead can be struck directly to deflect its course, she shaft can be cut near the head to optimally terminate its flight, or the shaft can be pushed aside with the flat of the blade to divert it from its target. All are difficult and prone to failure. An arrowhead struck directly can shatter into equally dangerous shrapnel, a miscalculation in the cut can lead to the halves of the arrow continuing on their path with undiminished momentum, and deflection requires great precision to avoid simply moving the target of the arrow to another part of your body.

All this you consider as the arrows slowly descend. You draw your sword.

HAWK SWORD: Have at you!

ATHLETICS: VERY DIFFICULT

CHECK FAILED

Your movement is pure reaction, cutting, shattering and deflecting each of the seventeen arrows within the space of a breath in a shower of sparks, raindrops and splinters.

As you step forward, however, your right leg falters. You glance down to see a barbed arrow produding from the back of your calf. You cut it in half too far up the shaft to stop its momentum, and it continued on its path with barely diminished force to pierce your unarmored shin directly between your tibia and fibula.

SAGACITY: Luckily it has also missed your major tibial arteries. The blood loss is not immediately dangerous.

You take another step, using a flicker of Essence to compensate for the loss of muscular function. One last arrow hisses from the darkness. You swat it aside without effort.

AWARENESS: How can they see you?

The smoke ahead grows dark, like clouds drawing in before the breaking of a thunderstorm. You see flashes of color within, a whirl of crimson embers. They move in time with an unseen breath.

You feel the movement of the air against your skin before you see any distortion in the smoke that indicates an attack is coming. A lash of metal hisses out of the darkness to strike in a surge of violent motion.

The hawk sword intercepts it, once, twice, three times. First meridian reversal, second return, sixth reversal. You didn't even need to think about it.

It's an edged weapon, heavy, short, more an axeblade than a sword, attached to a long, flexible chain. It retracts into the darkness with a hiss.

"I know you are there."

The smoke draws back, revealing your hunter.

The man before you is plainly dead. Mummified, dessicated flesh clings to his once-broad frame, blackened with the smoke that surrounds him. Deep cuts criss-cross his flesh, bare aside from a cuirass and faulds. The chain-weapon is looped around his withered hands. His ruined eye sockets burn like candlelights, glaring at you with unrestrained malice.

INTEGRITY: Oh good, he's already dead.

WAR: He's still trying to kill us.

INTEGRITY: But we won't feel so bad about killing him, because it already happened.

Wait, we feel bad about killing people?

INTEGRITY: You feel lots of things you don't notice.

Thoughts for later.

[ ] You're on fire.
[ ] Who are you?
[ ] Have we met?
[ ] What's it like being dead?
[ ] Are you sad?
[ ] Are you sad about being dead, specifically?