The Dream that is Dying (Exalted)

Al'rama has been your guardian and confident since you were scarcely old enough to reach his knee. You thought you knew him; knew his somber adherence to duty, knew the rough pleasure he took in swordplay, knew the wicked sense of humour hiding beneath the serious mask. More than that, you thought he knew you. It seems you both were wrong, for while you never thought he would turn on you like this…

Only a fool would expect you to go quietly.

"You treacherous bastard!" you cry, and with the shout pull your scimitar free from its sheath, turning draw to attack in the span of a single motion. Al'rama frowns and moves to parry, but he is not your target, and as the sharpened edge of your blade bites deep into his mount's neck you take vindictive pleasure in the look of horrified surprise hidden in his eyes.

The horse screams and rears up, painting the air with a spray of hot crimson and dumping your treasonous retainer to the ground. He grunts in pain, and in the distance you hear the Vakotans yelling in alarm, but you have no time for either.

"You dare? After all we have done for you?" You snarl, vaulting off your steed's back and landing cat-like on the ground. Your silk robes swirl around you as you raise your scimitar high, a burning brand of folded steel in the afternoon light. "Where is your honour!"

Article:

**Maugan Ra** rolled **6** <6; 4; 9; 10; 1; 5; 7> # Farah attacks (+2 success due to prone target)

**Maugan Ra** rolled **6** <4; 10; 2; 8; 9; 10; 3> # Al'rama defends

You bring the sword hammering down, putting all your weight and fury behind the blow, but Al'rama is no green-faced novice. He rolls to the side, throwing himself clear of your descending steel, and your blow tears away only a length of silk from his livery.

"Do not speak to me of honour, child!" He roars, rolling back to his feet and brandishing his sword to prevent you from drawing near. "Your father forced me to this path! A man who would spit on so many years of loyal service is not fit to be the Shah!"

You bare your teeth, leaning forwards in preparation for a lunge… then stagger, sideways, as an impact like a horse's kick sends you reeling across the open ground.

Article:

**Maugan Ra** rolled **4** <9; 3; 1; 3; 10; 4> # Vakotans attack
**Maugan Ra** rolled **2** <4; 7; 5; 9; 5; 4> # Farah attempts to dodge

Remaining health: [X] [X] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]

There is an arrow in your side. You stare at it for a moment, admiring the polished wooden haft and black-feather fletching, barely feeling the agony that should be coursing through your mind. Then you raise your head and look at your assailant.

The Vakotan boy, the one who spoke so dismissively to you in the palace courtyard, lowers his bow. His dark eyes glitter with satisfied malice above his colored scarf.

"But…" you say, reeling slightly, "Why… if you would quarrel with father, why…"

The grim look in Al'rama's eye confirms your suspicion. He is not here solely to kill you and leave, for that would merely leave the realm without an heir and a grieving father on the throne. No, this is bigger than just one man, bigger than just one death.

"My father…" you whisper, horrified, "My mother, my sister… you monster…"

"I am sorry, sehzade," Al'rama says, and for a moment he actually sounds genuinely remorseful. "You are too honorable a child, too loyal to that man's name. If he were to die and you were to live, you would never rest while his killers walked, never stand aside and let another take the throne. And so…"

You do not wait for him to finish. Whatever twisted logic that runs through his mind, whatever mad poison some vile conspirator has poured into his ears, they do not matter. He plans to kill your family, from the Shah himself all the way down to little Sabah, not even two years old. This, you cannot allow.

With a scream like a scalded cat you throw yourself forwards, swinging your scimitar in wide, eye-blurring arcs. Rage drives you, drowning out the pain and lending strength to your muscles, and whatever possibilities Al'rama might have been expecting this day to hold such a furious assault was not among them. He falls back, grunting in pain as you hack wildly at his chest and arms, and with a hoarse cry is forced to block a decapitating blow with the length of his right forearm.

Your blade comes away bloody, and you rejoice to see the traitor's blood fall lightly on the ground.

There is a hiss like that of a dozen serpents, and before you can finish the job your leg goes out from under you, another pair of arrows sprouting from your shin and thigh. You fall to your knees, and as the steel arrowheads grind against your bones you cannot help but cry out in pain.

Article:

Round Two:

**Maugan Ra** rolled **4** <2; 2; 8; 9; 1; 8; 9> # Farah attacks
**Maugan Ra** rolled **2** <5; 1; 7; 9; 3; 2; 6> # Al'rama defends

Two levels of damage inflicted, bonus level from scimitar (chopping weapon) cancelled out by light armor reduction.


**Maugan Ra** rolled **6** <7; 9; 2; 9; 9; 9> # Vakotan warriors fire their bows
**Maugan Ra** rolled **3** <6; 1; 2; 8; 9; 3> # Farah evades, plus one success for being locked in combat with an ally

Health levels: [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [ ] [ ]

"You have fire, sehzade," Al'rama nods gravely to you, switching his scimitar to the other hand that he might cradle his bleeding arm against his chest. "Were valour alone enough to prevail you might even have won here today. As it is…"

He lifts the blade high, the grim cast of an executioner settling across his face, and as you see your doom approaching all you can do is…

Ah… you see it now.

How foolish, to think that this day was truly a surprise. You can see it, now, can trace all the paths that lead here today, to this one frozen moment. The pride of a man squandered on watching children… the folly of a Shah to think that others felt as he did… the ambition of the rival lords, the southern Naibs with so much to gain and so little to lose…

You can see it all. And as you look upon the world, look upon all the many steps that have led you to this point, there is only one thought that finds itself a home in the forefront of your mind.

This must not be.

The blade descends, swift and terrible, aimed to sever your head in a single blow… and in an upraised hand, you catch it.

"What…" Al'rama says, in a tone of absolute confusion.

"Justice," You reply, a fierce laughter upon your tongue. Then you bring up your blade and cut the treacherous fool in twain.

Article:

**Maugan Ra** rolled **5** <9; 3; 10; 9; 2; 2; 6> # Al'rama executes his liege, +1 success for onslaught

**Maugan Ra** rolled **6** <4; 10; 9; 9; 3; 2; 3; 7> # Farah ascends, TN4


**Maugan Ra** rolled **7** <3; 4; 5; 6; 1; 10; 3; 9> # Farah enacts justice, +1 success due to Slow Blade Penetrates [ID: 55253]
**Maugan Ra** rolled **3** <1; 7; 10; 9; 5; 5> # Al'rama seeks to avoid his fate (-1 success due to Tolerant Strife)

Al'rama falls, a broken carcass spilling blood and guts across the ground, and you rise to your feet once more. You look down, studying the arrows that stud you flesh, and with a single flex force them from your body. The wounds left behind seal in an instant, your body aligning itself with how things should be.

The world has turned to red. You are glowing like the evening sun. This, too, is as it should be.

The Vakotans are screaming. This is, quite clearly, not how they expected things to go. More fool them. If they were smart, they… oh, they're running.

Are you going to allow that?

Article:

Choose your path:

[ ] Pursue the Vakotans. They have raised weapon against you, and now they will bleed for it. Perhaps they might tell you more of the snakes who would see your family harmed.

[ ] Return to the City. Your family is in danger. Your place is at their side. Reclaim the horse that was to be a gift, and ride swiftly back to Zamash before the conspirator's plot can be completed.