Mare Internum: An Exalted Quest

[Crumplepunch]

[X] No, I don't want any of this. I like my brain how it is.

Click to shrink...

"No, I don't want any of this. I like my brain how it is."

PRESENCE: VERY DIFFICULT

CHECK: FAILED

You deliver the words through clenched teeth, eyes bulging like a wounded animal, sweat beading on your forehead. The objective lie is so obviously a lie that Toothsome looks over his shoulder to make sure there are no officers within earshot.

TOOTHSOME: "Uh... are you alright, lady?"

"Yes. I'm having a fantastic day, and now I'm having no drugs, which is, as should be obvious, also fantastic."

TOOTHSOME: "Er... alright then." he backs off, slowly. "Let me know if you change your mind. I'll let you know about them pamphlets, will I?"

He withraws to the safety of the crowd.

It's probably for the best. We don't want anyone to suspect that we are losing our grip on reality. Now, where were we?

[X] Interact with fingers

Click to shrink...

Ah yes.

"So what's up with you?"

FINGER 1: We do your bidding as always, mother. Direct us to point, poke, lift, or to other actions besides!

FINGER 3: But our brother is slain, murdered! Repay our loyalty, and avenge us!

"Wait, why are you male, and also my children?"

FINGER 6: The lurid intricacies of your psychosocial fixations are not the purpose of this hallucination, mother!

FINGER 3: You must find the one who murdered our brother! Only then will we be at peace!

THUMB 1: I don't think this is going to be relevant to anything.

FINGER 7: Pay no attention to the thumb! It is foolish and half-formed, and cannot grasp the matter at hand!

THUMB 2: Maybe we should just get a replacement finger and stop worrying about it.

FINGER 8: Blasphemy! Betrayal! We shall never accept an outsider into our midst. Some articulated facsimile would forever be an unloved outsider among our fraternity. The ongoing consequences among your fingers could be dire. Dire!

[ ] I agree with the fingers, I should find the person who cut off Finger 2 years ago and make them pay.
[ ] I agree with the thumbs, I should just get a prosthetic finger or something.
[ ] Why am I even talking to you? This is stupid.

 

[Crumplepunch]

[X] I agree with the thumbs, I should just get a prosthetic finger or something.

Click to shrink...

"It's okay, I'll get you a new brother, even better than the one you lost. It'll be fine!"

Your fingers are still screaming in outrage when you put your gauntlets back on, muffling them.

OPTIONAL OBJECTIVE GAINED: FIND A REPLACEMENT FINGER

Several nearby legionaries are staring at you.

"What?"

They hurriedly resume their preparations.

Orison and Brindle are nowhere to be seen, presumably they have other duties to deal with. You have no other pressing matters to occupy you, so you go to find Fincher. You spot her conversing with the dour-faced Palean auxilliaries in rapid-fire Riverspeak.

EMBASSY: NORMAL

CHECK PASSED

You find that you have no difficulty following along. The leader of the Paleans, a rangy, red-headed man with brass caps on his breastplate to mark him as some kind of officer, is complaining that his group are being given inferior quality rations. Fincher is trying to explain the supply situation and also give the marching orders. After a few moments of this, the officer throws his hands up in frustration and storms off back into the hall.

Fincher looks over her shoulder and spots you.

FINCHER: "Joys of command, right? Come on, boss, we need to have a quick talk. Kitchen should be free."

You follow her into the kitchen. An unlit fireplace, blackened with smoke, dominates the room. It is devoid of any utensils, meathooks, cookpots, firewood or other identifying features, which you realize must have already been packed up by Fincher's people or, more likely, by the farmhouse's former owners when they fled.

FINCHER: "It's not all bad, this place. I think the villas they give to retiring legion officers are something like this, with a little plot of land by the Empress' grace. A little something to look forward to."

"How long until you retire?"

FINCHER: "Forty-eight years." She chuckles. "And five months."

Again, no hesitation. A number she was thinking about.

"We'll get through it."

FINCHER: "Yeah... I hope so."

Fincher falls silent. The room is filled with the clatter of metal and murmur of conversation from the legion, and heavy footfalls on the boards upstairs.

[ ] I just had a conversation with my fingers in front of your people.
[ ] Toothsome just tried to sell me drugs.
[ ] Toothsome just tried to sell me drugs and subversive pamphlets.
[ ] You said the bodies were 'bad', what did you mean by that?
[ ] Do you know where we're headed?

 

[Crumplepunch]

[X] You said the bodies were 'bad', what did you mean by that?

Click to shrink...

"You said the bodies were 'bad', what did you mean by that?"

FINCHER: "Yeah, I guess we should talk about that. They were, uh, cut up and burned."

"Burned?"

FINCHER: "Not with torches, they looked like a fire aspect had gone to town on them. The Raigi don't have any Exalted. Maybe an angry elemental? Reports said there was minimal spirit activity on the island. I don't know. Whatever it was, it wasn't the riders we ran into."

"And it ambushed your scouts."

FINCHER: "And it ambushed my scouts."

"Was there a trail?"

FINCHER: "What? Yeah, a pretty obvious one, apparently. I don't blame Dunland and Gannet for not following it. They did the right thing in coming right back."

NAVIGATE: We should be able to follow something like that with no trouble, even in the dark.

"We'd have a safer march without whatever it is at your back."

FINCHER: "Yeah, that's not happening. I'm not going to get any more people killed."

INTEGRITY: DIFFICULT

CHECK PASSED

INTEGRITY: These are probably the first people who died following her orders. She's making an extra effort to be cautious. It's understandable, isn't it?

"Yeah, but... we don't know what's out there. It could be with the Raigis, or it could be something else we have to deal with. Shouldn't we track it down?"

FINCHER: "No. We're going to form up tight, march southwest, find another nice camp somewhere and get enough supplies to see us through until we can contact the reinforcements. We're going to play this safe."

WAR: NORMAL

CHECK PASSED

WAR: You both have a point. Hunting an unknown enemy is inherently risky, but so is leaving an unknown enemy out in the field without observation.

[ ] What if I were to investigate this killing as part of my official duties?
[ ] Okay, we'll play it your way. We'll look for another camp.

This is a consequential decision, please vote.

 

[Crumplepunch]

[X] What if I were to investigate this killing as part of my official duties?

Click to shrink...

"What if I were to investigate this killing as part of my official duties."

Fincher pauses in her pacing of the kitchen and holds the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger, as though she has developed a sudden headache.

FINCHER: "Shit. Alright, I can't stop you, but I seriously recommend against this. I can't guarantee your safety."

"Do I look like I'm concerned with my safety?"

FINCHER: "You do not," she responds without hesitation. "But you're not the one that will be up on charges about it if you die."

"I won't die."

FINCHER: "Yeah. Well. First time for everything."

"I can deal with whatever it is and then rejoin you. No problem, right?"

FINCHER: "Of course there's a problem!" she snaps. "Why are you making this so difficult?"

"Do you think I can't handle it?"

FINCHER: "Boss, I have no idea what you can handle, and I have no idea what you'll be handling. I can't send you out without backup, but I also don't want to leave the column underdefended. What am I supposed to do?"

[ ] Come with me. Orison can handle the march, we'll finish whatever it is double time and be back before you know it.
[ ] Give me a team of your best. It'll give everyone the best chance, it's a sound decision.
[ ] Give me the Paleans. I speak Riverspeak, I can work with them.
[ ] I'll go by myself. I've fought worse. I assume.

 

[Crumplepunch]

[X] Give me the Paleans. I speak Riverspeak, I can work with them.

Click to shrink...

"Give me the Paleans. I speak Riverspeak, I can work with them."

Fincher scratches the back of her head, thoughtfully.

FINCHER: "That might work. I'll have to ask them."

"Aren't you their officer? Don't you give them orders?"

FINCHER: "Technically, yeah, but everything's fucked, isn't it? If they decide to desert and go to ground somewhere in the hills, there's not a damn thing I can do about it. We're at the asking nicely stage of military command."

"So they'll come with me if they agree?"

FINCHER: "They'll go with you if they can convince me they won't try to take you hostage and use you to barter a way home, or slit your throat as you sleep." She shrugs. "They've seen you fight, I doubt they're that stupid, but desperation does bad things to people."

"Well, I don't want to get my throat slit."

FINCHER: "Yeah, by the way, your throat has been slit at least twice."

"At least I know I can survive that."

Fincher frowns and opens her mouth to respond, but a knock at the door interrupts her.

FINCHER: "Enter."

Orison enters, holding a slate.

ORISON: "Got the headcount, talon. Copse is going to need a little more time before he can walk, but Bayard is all better, thanking your efforts." he bows his head to Fincher. "No deserters, we're all accounted for. Thirty-seven able legion, three wounded, twenty marines, six Paleans. Plus you and our lady."

INTEGRITY: LEGENDARY

CHECK SUCCESS

INTEGRITY: That's wrong.

SAGACITY: No it isn't. Thirty-eight able, four wounded, twenty marines, six Paleans. One of the wounded has healed, two are dead, so it's thirty-seven able, three wounded.

INTEGRITY: It doesn't add up. It doesn't make sense.

SAGACITY: Integrity is broken. This is basic arithmetic.

INTEGRITY: Someone has changed the numbers.

"Someone has changed the numbers."

FINCHER: "What?"

Fincher and Orison both look at you in confusion.

ORISON: "Nobody changed these numbers, lady. Did the tally myself."

"No, you don't understand. There's one more than there should be. Isn't there?"

They exchange a long glance.

FINCHER: "Boss, you're not doing a great job of convincing me of your mental stability."

[ ] Insist that there is an infiltrator in your midst.
[ ] Let it drop.

 

[Crumplepunch]

[x] Insist that there is an infiltrator in your midst.

Click to shrink...

"There should be thirty-nine, right? There were forty-one, two are dead," Fincher winces at this. "we have thirty nine. But we have forty."

FINCHER: "There were always forty-two."

ORISON: "That's what I made it as well."

"No, you see, you only think you thought that, but... I don't know, I think your memories are being altered?"

FINCHER: "Oh yeah? Then why aren't your memories altered?"

"Maybe because of my enormous brain."

FINCHER: "Boss, this is stupid. There were forty-two. I told you there were forty-two, think about it."

You think about it.

four incapacitated leaves me with thirty-eight able legion

"Alright, I concede that my thoughts are also being affected. This is even more insidious than I expected. Maybe if I ask a few of the-"

FINCHER: "No!" she slams her hand on the old kitchen counter, sending up a plume of dust. "Fucking enough of this. My people are tired, and cold, and hungry, and we do not need this shit." She advances on you, finger raised. "Do not say a fucking word about this bullshit to anyone. Stop talking to yourself. Stop talking to your fucking fingers. Stop being so fucking weird around people. They are having a hard enough time already."

ORISON: "Hey, easy. We're all on edge, but-"

FINCHER: "Just... fuck!" She throws up her hands in frustration. "I'll talk to the Paleans so you can all fuck off. Just sit still and don't eat any fucking paint."

She storms out of the room without another word.

Orison turns to you, eyebrows raised.

ORISON: "I think you annoyed her."

[ ] Do you believe me about the numbers?
[ ] Maybe the infiltrator is manipulating her mood.
[ ] I'm going to investigate.
[ ] What's her problem?
[ ] Should I apologise?

 

[Crumplepunch]

[X] Do you believe me about the numbers?

Click to shrink...

"Do you believe me about the numbers?"

The scalelord adopts the masterfully neutral expression of someone who works with temperamental demigods for a living and sometimes has to give them bad news.

ORISON: "Lady, as much as I want to take to your perspective, I remember every one of those forty-two. I know their names, their backgrounds, their families, some of them. Half of them I've known for years. That's my job. It's the Talonlord's job too, at one level of remove. We remember how many there were. And, well, I can't expect you to know the group that well, being an outsider. Especially what with your, er, recent difficulties."

INTEGRITY: He thinks you are compromised.

SAGACITY: He is definitely right! You're acting completely irrationally!

[ ] So what should I do?
[ ] I still want to investigate.
[ ] I've never seen Fincher like that.
[ ] I'm just going to stay here and keep quiet.

 

[Crumplepunch]

[X] I still want to investigate.

Click to shrink...

"I still want to investigate."

Orison doesn't make any overt movements, but his whole body shifts into a subtle tension, ready for action.

ORISON: "I'm pretty sure the talon gave you an order. Even if you think that doesn't apply to you, it applies to me."

He's standing between you and the door.

"Are we going to fight about this?"

He's a big man, and armoured too. There's strength in his movements, and confidence in his stance. He's been in a lot of fights, and won most of them.

You are considering the best way to force your way past him when he answers.

ORISON: "No, not my place. But I will get the talonlord. I don't really want to do that, because it's going to get ugly. Please reconsider."

You are already decided though. Things are going to get ugly either way. But you have to know.

Knocking out Orison will give you more time before Fincher realizes what you are doing.

[ ] Incapacitate Orison.
[ ] Just push past him.

 

[Crumplepunch]

[X] "Alright, I won't go investigate." (Lie, immediately go investigate.)
-[X] If that fails, incapacitate Orison.

Click to shrink...

"Alright, I'll drop it."

Orison's tense form relaxes just a little. Palpable relief rises form him like smoke from burning kindling.

ORISON: "Well, I'm glad to hear that. Now-"

PRESENCE: DIFFICULT

CHECK FAILED

"I need to go to the washroom."

He immediately tenses again.

ORISON: "Are you fucking serious? Do I look like an idiot to you?"

"I really need to go though. I drank some water yesterday and I don't think I was prepared for it."

ORISON: "Alright, enough of this-"

He turns to open the door. Your opportunity resolves itself before your eyes.

"Sorry about this."

In a flash, you hop forward, kick off the counter and leap towards Orison. He turns towards you reflexively at the exact moment you are shoulder-height and arm-length from his head. Your textbook right cross catches him on the brow.

In your mind's eye, you see his brain slosh jelly-like in his skull from the impact, twin hemispheres winking out like snuffed candles. The muscular tension that supported him vanishes in an eyeblink and he clatters to the floor. You manage to catch his head before it hits the ground.

SAGACITY: DIFFICULT

CHECK PASSED

SAGACITY: I estimate that you have three minutes before he wakes, and two months before he fully recovers from the concussion. I hope you're proud of yourself.

Pride doesn't enter into it. The proud do not endure.

You slip out of the kitchen and snap off the door handle, jamming the heavy board latch in place. Orison will be further delayed when he wakes.

The main hall has more than half of the legionaires, but some of them are in one of the three upstairs rooms, or preparing outside. Fincher went to see the Paleans, who you know are down the hall to the right of you. That means when Fincher leaves that room she will come directly into the main hall.

[ ] Search the main hall.
[ ] Go upstairs.
[ ] Head outside.

 

[Crumplepunch]

[X] Search the main hall.

Click to shrink...

The majority of legionaries are in the main hall. Regardless of the risk, it offers the best and most immediate chance to find this mysterious infiltrator. You have to know.

SAGACITY: Listen to yourself! You don't even know that there is an infiltrator, all you have is Integrity being confused about some numbers.

WAR: This seems like a bad decision from a strategic perspective.

STEALTH: It's only a matter of time before we are discovered.

AWARENESS: I don't even know what we are looking for.

INTEGRITY: I know we can't remember it, but it happened. Someone changed the numbers.

SAGACITY: And so what if there was, you fool? What would that even mean?

WAR: Would it be worth this?

You have to know.

The group of legionaries parts around you. Some of them look fearful.

INTEGRITY: At least some of them heard Fincher shouting at you.

AWARENESS: It was pretty loud.

AWARENESS: VERY DIFFICULT

CHECK PASSED

You glance at each face in turn, embedding the craggy contours of their faces into your brain, cross-referencing each with your memories of the previous day.

Pale, drawn, tattooed. He smokes a long pipe and tries to relax around a meagre beach fire.

Balding, thickset, scowling. He pats the mane of a horse to calm her as she shivers along the Ashglass road.

Grim-faced, ashen, shaved head. She steadies one of the wounded on his horse, keeps her hand on his side as they walk.

Over-young, sandy hair, gangly. He helps you put on your newly claimed armour and gauntlets.

Tall, blue eyes, russet curls. Nothing.

Really? Nothing? You look at the man again.

"You! Who the fuck are you?"

The man pales.

BOWERY: "Uh, Bowery, lady. Can I help you?"

"Why can't I remember your face?"

BOWERY: "I, er..."

He bends down to pick something up. Your hand goes to your sword, reflexively. You feel a wave of incipient violence around you. Everyone is ready for a fight to break out.

Bowery picks up a full-face Raigi helmet. He seems oblivious to the danger.

BOWERY: "I was wearing this all day yesterday."

You look at the helmet, with its snarling teeth and graven mustaches. Joking with Toothsome as they were packing up the horses.

"Uh... okay, sorry, yes, I remember you."

You release your hand from your sword. The tension in the room lowers by a notch.

BRINDLE: "Lady, is everything alright?"

The young man looks worried. He's frozen in place, as though the merest movement could set off a terrible chain reaction.

There is nothing here. You hear a door open own the hall. Over the general hubbub, you make out Fincher's footsteps.

You have only seconds.

[ ] Confront Fincher.
[ ] Retreat upstairs.
[ ] Retreat outside.