[Exalted] The Dragon's Spite
- Thread starter EarthScorpion
- Start date
- Mature Fantasy
- Location
- USA
[x] Yes - you must put a stop to this silliness. You don't want Haitham dead or badly hurt; that'll get in the way of your plans. And you didn't come here to fight. People just need to calm down!
[X] Yes - you must put a stop to this silliness. You don't want Haitham dead or badly hurt; that'll get in the way of your plans. And you didn't come here to fight. People just need to calm down!
- Location
- PA
Hrrm. So ONE thing that comes to mind to remember IS that God. I have half a suspicion that we shouldn't intervene, unless we think Rena can clobber this guy without spending Essence OR bleeding. And even then, I bet that God will get a look at us, if he hasn't already.
And that guy? I DON'T want to be in his view, not with the religion he's got. I feel like full 'no lessons learned' Rena, if she had a statue there? Cahzor would be better off for it. And not even because she has merit to her, that guy is just that much of a bad bear, to me.
Alternatively, we could let this play out.
But as Aleph said, we'll be remembered as the woman who got Haitham killed, and we don't actually have resources beyond being Dragon-Blooded. We DO have that handy army-murder spell now! But uhh, we still need a sweet tower to shoot it from. And I still don't know these people well enough to be sure who's who!
[X] Yes - you must put a stop to this silliness. You don't want Haitham dead or badly hurt; that'll get in the way of your plans. And you didn't come here to fight. People just need to calm down!
And that guy? I DON'T want to be in his view, not with the religion he's got. I feel like full 'no lessons learned' Rena, if she had a statue there? Cahzor would be better off for it. And not even because she has merit to her, that guy is just that much of a bad bear, to me.
Alternatively, we could let this play out.
But as Aleph said, we'll be remembered as the woman who got Haitham killed, and we don't actually have resources beyond being Dragon-Blooded. We DO have that handy army-murder spell now! But uhh, we still need a sweet tower to shoot it from. And I still don't know these people well enough to be sure who's who!
[X] Yes - you must put a stop to this silliness. You don't want Haitham dead or badly hurt; that'll get in the way of your plans. And you didn't come here to fight. People just need to calm down!
Vocalist
Verdant Maiden in Violet
- Location
- By a Cedar Tree
Yikes. The decay is staggering. These people are living in an archeological site.
...Huh. I guess Rena has acquired a lot of backstory in her hundred-plus years.
Presumably this is something about conserving water.
Yeah, where would anyone in Cahzor even get fish? The lake is so polluted, I'm sure any fish there would die in seconds. Then again, they did manage blueberries somehow.
My "Secret Kinzira Cannibals" theory has not yet been disproved!
Haitham and Hilmi are both tools. Is it too late to pivot to Zia instead? Actually, what am I saying - Rena never limits herself to one man at a time, I'm sure. But the fact still remains that I like Zia best.
YIKES. I repeat, SECRET CANNIBALISM is obviously going on here.
[X] Yes - you must put a stop to this silliness. You don't want Haitham dead or badly hurt; that'll get in the way of your plans. And you didn't come here to fight. People just need to calm down!
And as for my vote, I agree that we gain nothing from this fight, and we don't know enough about the duelling practices or the noble feuds to go forward.
Last edited:
boo600
Ego sum egredietur tempestas.
- Location
- Texas
- Pronouns
- He/Him/Hungry
[X] No. They've already made it clear they want to fight - and you're not going to embarrass them (or yourself) by stepping in. Regardless of who wins, you'll handle things in your own way. Plus, you like men fighting over you.
Seriously, let's not poke these idiots.
Plus, free fight scene. We should bring popcorn... um, pine kernels. They have those here.
Seriously, let's not poke these idiots.
Plus, free fight scene. We should bring popcorn... um, pine kernels. They have those here.
- Location
- Canada
[X] Yes - you must put a stop to this silliness. You don't want Haitham dead or badly hurt; that'll get in the way of your plans. And you didn't come here to fight. People just need to calm down!
I really don't like Haitham's chances of making it out of this unmaimed. He's not a good person, but Rena needs all the contacts she can make.
I really don't like Haitham's chances of making it out of this unmaimed. He's not a good person, but Rena needs all the contacts she can make.
Well, I believe I'll close this here, so I can get started on the next update.
In which we learn that Rena is a pushover that lets bullies break her toys !
- Location
- Dethklok
In which we learn that Rena is a pushover that lets bullies break her toys !
Or she just like when toys fight for her attention.
XXI. Duel
XXI. Duel
… no. No, you were nearly almost considering stepping in, but on the balance, you're way too interested in seeing how this turns out. You run your fingers through your black hair and shake it out, glad you washed it today. Both the arguing men and the other jansi stare at you, which is very gratifying.
You know what's incredible? Being you. You know what would be awful? Being someone else. Dragons, boys fighting over you is really hot.
Yes. It's really hot.
So… why is nothing happening? The two men are posturing at each other, pacing back and forwards on the other side of the circle, while two other men talk at each other loudly and quickly.
You sidle up to Sadia. "What's going on?" you ask ask her. "They better not be chickening out."
"Their seconds are arguing about terms," she says, with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. "Here we are, waiting to see some blood, and they just can't get down to it."
Well, at least she's in agreement with you. You tap your foot. "Excuse me? May I see those?"
"The swords? Go ahead." She passes you one of the two blades she's carrying.
The Cahzori duelling blade is a little longer and notably lighter than the weapons you'd prefer with the Viper school. It's barely more than a sharpened knitting needle. The balance is very much in the grip, so the point flicks. Some of the weight comes from its well-developed, ornate guard that wraps around the hand entirely Cahzor might be a ruin, but they can still make swords for duels. You test the edge: as sharp as razor.
This isn't a weapon made for killing, though no doubt it can kill. With that balance, it's made for flicking cuts to the limbs, shoulders and chest. It's so sharp that the cuts will be clean. The scars that you've seen on both Haitham and Hilmi make sense now. If you stabbed a man in the chest with it, it probably won't get past the ribcage - but it'll leave a nice manly scar. And with how flicky the blade is, you can rain cuts down on the forearms, shoulders and head.
"What do you think?" Sadia asks, after you try a few cuts at the air.
"What an odd little weapon," you say aerily, handing it back. "And I'm not sure I could use this well."
She smiles at you. "Me neither. I'm trained in the traditional knife and spear forms, of course, but the duelling blade isn't my choice."
"Mmm."
You share some of your observations, and she nods. "Pretty much. Silly boys like them pride themselves on their scars."
"No silly girls?" you enquire.
"Some, but most women have too good sense to like getting scarred in quite the same way that the duelling cults do."
"Duelling cults?" you enquire, some interest sparked.
"Oh, yes, they're… wait, something is happening." The two seconds shake hands. "Yes, looks like they've agreed a set of rules, Meira."
"Oh?" you say, handing her back the blade.
She goes to check. "First bleeding wound to the torso marks the victor," she says. She shivers happily. "We'll see blood today. Those two idiots will cut each other up quite a bit better one gets through."
The seconds clear everyone off the duelling circle, guiding them into a rough circle. Yasmine is on the other side, and you think she's staring at you. There's a disruption as Zia arrives late, panting. Your name dies on his lips.
Hilmi clears his throat. "You have insulted me, mocked me, belittled me, treated me as dirt," he says, voice raw. "I will have your apology and you will stand aside in the courtship of the lady Meira, or you will bleed for Sef and Kamis." There's ritual to his words.
With a flick of his hair, Haitham flourishes his blade. "I have said nothing that was not true, and you disparage my name with your words," he says. "I will have your apology and you will surrender that black jadesteel knife to me, or you will bleed for Sef and Kamis."
"I will not stand down."
"I will not stand down." Haitham smiles. "Looks like we're at an impasse, dog." He lazily salutes Hilmi with his blade, then with more care salutes the icons in the temple, the seconds, and saves a sweeping gracious bow for you. You can't help but beam. He can be very charming.
There's a growl from Hilmi, and his salutes are more like slashes at the air. He stares at you, longing in his eyes. "Meira, I'll bleed him for you and then you'll see."
You're about to respond when Sadia nudges you in the ribs. "No, don't say anything," she whispers. "It'd be rude."
And the atmosphere has changed. Everyone can feel the tension in the air, the longing for blood. The two men start to circle each other. Their bare feet slap against the stone floor. The smell of the incense and the clinging heat of Cahzor make you feel light-headed - no, that's not it, is it?
It's the chaos in the air. The madness blowing on the wind. Now the crowd has grown silent in anticipation, you can hear the screaming gale outside.
Their blades clash as Hilmi steps in with a tentative cut. Haitham parries and ripostes - his rival steps back rather than press the attack.
You can immediately see the difference in the way they hold their blades. Hilmi is a cavalryman from the slightly bow-legged way he stands, and you're pretty sure he's trained in some southern relative of Sword-Wind Style. He'll be fast, but you think he's used to a heavier weapon - and maybe it's not quite his preferred length, either. Haitham, by contrast, looks like the perfect duellist; his guard clearly formally proscribed, his stance graceful and relaxed.
And that would match your previous observations. Haitham isn't some untrained layabout. He can handle a blade well, and he's earned his scars. But he is a duellist, first and foremost. Hilmi is not. He'd rather be riding a man down, slashing down at his head and shoulders from atop his steed.
This time it's Haitham's turn, and he tests the shorter man's defence with tentative thrusts, not quite committing, not stepping in enough to open himself up.
"Come on, coward," Haitham says, lips half-smiling, half locked in an adrenaline snarl.
Hilmi says nothing - but no, his pride is stung. Next time Haitham does one of his lazy stabs, he parries and steps in to cut to chest - but Haitham's blade ducks under his and now he's wide open. Haitham flicks to his wrist, and Hilmi catches the blow on the guard.
It's the mark for the next step of the duel. They've been testing each other out, you decide. You're sure they must have fought before. And so it's Hilmi who presses in, trying to push Haitham back into the circle of onlookers and overcome his rival's longer reach.
Back, forwards, back. The blades clatter against each other like the march of a troupe as the men follow each parry with a riposte that is parried in turn.
And then Haitham's blade dances around a cut, and with a circular parry that pushes the weapon off target he lashes out. Hilmi yelps, leaping back, bleeding from a long gasp down his right forearm.
"Ah ha!" Haitham crows. "A hit!"
Your heart is racing, pounding in your chest. You can't help but lean forwards. This is exhilarating.
"Just a graze," Hilmi growls through clenched teeth.
"Are you sure, old boy?" Haitham asks. His blade flicks out to parry Himili's sneaky cut to his forearm. "Looks like you're bleeding. You should give up. Lie down. You're probably feeling wooz-"
He can't finish his taunting as Hilmi launches into an aggressive series of chops, pressing in past the guard of his lanky opponent. One, two, three, he hammers down at Haitham's head. The third comes in at an off angle, sneaking past his guard, and Haitham cries out.
The two separate, and you can see that Haitham is bleeding down the left temple. The point must have just grazed him. With his free hand, Haitham wipes his brow. You wince. Scalp wounds always bleed profusely, and he's fortunate the blood isn't getting in his eyes.
In the firelight, the red sparkles like rubies on their sweaty bodies. Both are breathing heavily, and Hilmi clearly is in pain from his arm. But he's the first one to attack again. He lunges explosively and Haitham barely throws himself aside from the point. He didn't expect that and there's no riposte coming. The next cut is scored against Haitham, the tip sneaking past his guard to score a glancing hit against his bicep, but only by seconds - when they separate, Hilmi is bleeding from a split lip where Haitham punched him with the heavy guard of his sword.
"Had to use a cheap trick," Hilmi growls, spitting blood on the floor.
Haitham works out his arm, blood oozing from it. "Dear boy, if you didn't see that coming, then you," he starts, and Hilmi twitches, trying to guard against the feint, "aren't a quarter of the man I thought you are." Another feint, another twitch. "And that makes you very little of a man at all." A third feint, almost no twitch. "I really don't think that Meira would be happy with such a little man."
You giggle. Just a little bit. It's something to watch. He's taking Hilmi apart, because Hilmi is governed by the fire in his nature. He's not stupid, but passion makes him dumb.
And when Hilmi snarls and steps in, drawing his arm back, Haitham starts - only this time, it isn't a feint. And the other man is too inured to that motion to notice it. His rising cut scores along the underside of Hilmi's arm, nearly from armput to elbow,
But Hilmi's guard is too slow - weakened by the cuts on his arm - and Haitham's blade dances across to score a scarlet line across his chest.
The crowd cheers and Haitham flourishes his point. It's over. Only Hilmi doesn't think that's enough. He doesn't stop.
Their blades clash, Haitham knocks Hilmi's point off target, and as he passes trips him. The shorter man sprawls to the floor, his blade skittering along the stone, and this time Haitham has his weapon's point against the back of his neck.
"Yield," he says. He pushes in deep enough to break the skin, and scarlet wells up around the tip. "Or I carve my family tree into your back."
Hilmi growls, low and feral.
"Yield," Haitham repeats, dragging the blade down, cutting his back open with a lazy smile on his lips.
"He yields," Hilmi's second says loudly, wincing at the sight. "He yields! For fuck's sake, Haith, stop it! He yields!"
"Yes!" Hilmi gasps, pounding the ground with his fist.
Only then does the blade rise. "What fun little sport, my boy," Haitham says, wiping his blade off on Hilmi's trousers. "Feel free to challenge me again any time."
"I will, you fuck!"
"It'll end the same way as this time. Just thing, Hilmi! You can get scars and maybe you'll find a lady some day who's impressed by a sign of such a manly ability to lose time and time again and carry on through the pain." He offers his blade to his second, and walks towards you. "Only it won't be Meira," he says, over his shoulder. "She prefers a winner."
"My hero," you say, because that's what you're traditionally meant to say at moments like this.
He wraps you up in his arms. He stinks of blood and sweat and maleness as he kisses you deeply. All eyes are on you; Yasmine's, Zia's, Sadia's, and Munir's among the jansi here and there's a bit of you that really loves the attention. But only a bit. The more mature part reminds you he's being very forwards, and so you break the kiss.
"Just look at the mess you're making of my dress," you say, escaping his arms. You're pretty sure he'll be hurting more when he comes down from the adrenaline rush from the pain. "You're bleeding all over me."
"A stain of honour."
"But still a stain."
"Now, perhaps, seeing my bravery and that I am willing to risk my flesh for you…" Haitham gives you a cheeky grin, "... now will you marry me?"
You sigh extravagantly. The silly boy is impatient. You mentally deduct him points. "How could I marry a man who just got blood on my dress?" you say, weaving a little heart-broken catch into your voice. "One fight is not enough to win my heart." You release him, and give a little fluttery wave with just the fingers of your hand. "Now, shoo. Go get those wounds seen to."
"So you do care."
"Excuse me?" You stare at him from under hooded lids. "You'll be sleeping alone tonight for making me worry, young man."
He's beaming now - understanding that this is a reward of sorts. "She's such a hard woman," he says to the crowd, with a melodramatic sigh. He strolls over to Yasmine who - you're pretty sure from what little you can see of her face - is staring at him hatefully.
"Really?" Sadia asks you, rolling her eyes.
You shrug. "Just a little fun, darling," you say softly. "Let him have his sport. Now, I don't suppose you have a cloth on you? I wasn't joking about him bleeding on my dress. I'll be quite put out if he ruins it."
Dinner that evening occurs in the grand dining hall once again. It is in every way a lesser version of the meal the previous day. The food is plainer. There are no blueberries and much less fruit. The meal is hearty and heavily spiced, but there are fewer courses and you notice how much it's bulked out with lentils and chickpeas.
The jansi don't seem to care or notice. Well, apart from Sadia who is always there with sly comments about how this shows that the Kinzira put everything into that one big meal. Her verdigris-tinted jewelry gleams in the oil lanterns.
For your part, you're just feeling tired. After all, you didn't get much sleep last night, and you spent most of the afternoon exploring the fortress. Your feet are hurting and your legs aching. You don't really feel like dancing.
So you make your excuses after you eat, and retreat back to your room with a bottle of wine, making your way down the rounded corridors with only your oil lamp for company.
There are footsteps behind you. You turn to see Haitham jogging to catch up. He's bandaged up, and there are stains on the cloth. Something tells you Yasmine didn't try her hardest as you watched her stitch him up. His new black jadesteel knife gleams on his belt. "Meira," he says. "Were you bored of those tiresome people?"
"I just needed an early night," you say.
He wraps his arms around your waist, pushing you up against the wall. His lips are against yours, warm and tasting of wine. "An early night sounds like fun," he says.
You slip away from him easily. He doesn't expect you to be that flexible. "An early night alone," you say. "You need to rest so your stitches heal, and I'm tired. I didn't get much sleep last night."
"But…"
You lean in to kiss him again. "Bed," you command. "Rest up. And maybe I'll see you in the morning. But for now, it's goodnight."
"I'll come to your door and sing you romantic songs in the morrow."
"Wake me up when I'm trying to sleep in, and I might have to feed you to the demon-king of Hell," you tell him. But you're smiling, so he knows it's a joke. And it is one! You certainly wouldn't feed him to a demon!
"Oh, you heart-breaker, you cruel and vicious woman!"
You give him one last goodnight kiss. "Yes. Yes, I am."
And with that said, you enter your room and close the door behind you. You sigh extravagantly, running your tongue over your lips. He is a silly boy. Fun, though.
Sei is waiting for you, sprawled out on your bed and no doubt getting fur all over the sheets. He opens one eye a crack as you enter. "My goodness," he says. "My lady, you're willingly sleeping alone? Will wonders never cease?"
You ignore his petty jibes, and slip off your shoes with a sigh of relief.
"Was lover-boy a disappointment?"
"No, I'm just tired." You yawn. "Sometimes a lady just wants a quiet night in. And honestly, the food wasn't half as good tonight."
"Can I eat his soul?"
You glare at your familiar. "No."
"But what if I gave you something nice?"
"I'll consider it later, depending on the quality of your gift."
Sei flicks his tails and rolls over, waggling his legs in the air. "Such a shame. Here you are, a lonely woman well into her second century who's gone back to her room alone with a bottle of wine and only has her pet cat for company."
You throw your shoe at him. It hits, and he slithers off the bed with an undignified squawk. "You had that coming," you tell him.
"Is that what Haitham said last night?" a rebellious voice mutters from the other side of your bed.
"You shut your mouth, insolent whelp! I have another shoe!"
"Mercy, mercy," he drawls.
You settle yourself down on your bed, and pour yourself a cup of wine. With a sigh, you take the other cup and give him a measure, too. "Here you go, you beast," you concede in your infinite generosity, placing the cup on the floor. "If I am going to be an old lady alone save for her pet, you might as well drink with me."
That's enough to get him to come out from under the bed, and start lapping at the wine. "Cheers," he says indistinctly.
Outside the wind screams, and thunder booms. The oil lamp wavers. "I wonder where they get the oil for this," you say, glancing at the wavering flame. There's hints of blue and green around the edge of the flame; a mark of the storm.
"I don't care."
"Maybe it's upstream. I saw oilslicks on the water. Maybe there's tar pits upstream. Or one of the families has the alchemy to brew oil. Maybe there's even tarry sediments in these Kinzira mines. Explains why they have any money left at all when they import all these expensive dishes - on ice, no doubt!"
"So?"
You swirl the wine in your cup. "I wonder this, because this house must be burning through it at a prodigious rate, given there isn't even light in the day. I'd really hate to be stuck here in the dark with these people." You put your drink down, and ease yourself out of your dress. The blood is staining, and you have no idea how you'll get it out while you're here. There will be servants back at the hotel who can do that kind of thing, but until then… urgh. Men! "How long until the storm lets up?"
Sei looks up from his wine. "A couple more days, at least," he says. "Predicting chaos is a fool's errand, but there's too much flux in the air for there to be much of a chance of the world crushing it yet."
You sigh. "Much as I'd thought," you say. "It's too wild out there for there to be much of a chance of being able to leave tomorrow."
"My, are you bored?" he asks slyly.
"Honestly, yes." You stretch out on your bed. "There are some interesting people here, but so many of these jansi are small-minded fools who are only interested in their next meal."
"You say that, but you have been known to indulge in feasting whenever you get the chance. Especially if someone else is paying."
"There are so precious few people that are fun enough," you say, ignoring him. "And I'm feeling trapped. This building is awful." You glance over the vermillion walls. "I don't like their style and I don't like how everything is…" you rub your fingers together, looking for the words, "... greasy. Or maybe it's just the way that there's nothing green in here. I'm feeling dry. Pulled thin."
Sei pokes his head above the edge of the bed, his slitted eyes gleaming. "So, what will you do, my lady?"
"Entertain myself while the storm lasts, of course," you say. "At least while the food and entertainment lasts. See who I can make useful. But…" you sigh, "I don't like these people. And they all want me to like them."
"Well, if it helps, I don't like you."
"Yes, but you're a soul-eating monster trapped in my service." You refill your cup. Fuck it, sometimes a lady needs to get drunk on mediocre wine while sitting around in her underwear with her pet cat for company. It's her own prerogative. "You don't count."
… no. No, you were nearly almost considering stepping in, but on the balance, you're way too interested in seeing how this turns out. You run your fingers through your black hair and shake it out, glad you washed it today. Both the arguing men and the other jansi stare at you, which is very gratifying.
You know what's incredible? Being you. You know what would be awful? Being someone else. Dragons, boys fighting over you is really hot.
Yes. It's really hot.
So… why is nothing happening? The two men are posturing at each other, pacing back and forwards on the other side of the circle, while two other men talk at each other loudly and quickly.
You sidle up to Sadia. "What's going on?" you ask ask her. "They better not be chickening out."
"Their seconds are arguing about terms," she says, with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. "Here we are, waiting to see some blood, and they just can't get down to it."
Well, at least she's in agreement with you. You tap your foot. "Excuse me? May I see those?"
"The swords? Go ahead." She passes you one of the two blades she's carrying.
The Cahzori duelling blade is a little longer and notably lighter than the weapons you'd prefer with the Viper school. It's barely more than a sharpened knitting needle. The balance is very much in the grip, so the point flicks. Some of the weight comes from its well-developed, ornate guard that wraps around the hand entirely Cahzor might be a ruin, but they can still make swords for duels. You test the edge: as sharp as razor.
This isn't a weapon made for killing, though no doubt it can kill. With that balance, it's made for flicking cuts to the limbs, shoulders and chest. It's so sharp that the cuts will be clean. The scars that you've seen on both Haitham and Hilmi make sense now. If you stabbed a man in the chest with it, it probably won't get past the ribcage - but it'll leave a nice manly scar. And with how flicky the blade is, you can rain cuts down on the forearms, shoulders and head.
"What do you think?" Sadia asks, after you try a few cuts at the air.
"What an odd little weapon," you say aerily, handing it back. "And I'm not sure I could use this well."
She smiles at you. "Me neither. I'm trained in the traditional knife and spear forms, of course, but the duelling blade isn't my choice."
"Mmm."
You share some of your observations, and she nods. "Pretty much. Silly boys like them pride themselves on their scars."
"No silly girls?" you enquire.
"Some, but most women have too good sense to like getting scarred in quite the same way that the duelling cults do."
"Duelling cults?" you enquire, some interest sparked.
"Oh, yes, they're… wait, something is happening." The two seconds shake hands. "Yes, looks like they've agreed a set of rules, Meira."
"Oh?" you say, handing her back the blade.
She goes to check. "First bleeding wound to the torso marks the victor," she says. She shivers happily. "We'll see blood today. Those two idiots will cut each other up quite a bit better one gets through."
The seconds clear everyone off the duelling circle, guiding them into a rough circle. Yasmine is on the other side, and you think she's staring at you. There's a disruption as Zia arrives late, panting. Your name dies on his lips.
Hilmi clears his throat. "You have insulted me, mocked me, belittled me, treated me as dirt," he says, voice raw. "I will have your apology and you will stand aside in the courtship of the lady Meira, or you will bleed for Sef and Kamis." There's ritual to his words.
With a flick of his hair, Haitham flourishes his blade. "I have said nothing that was not true, and you disparage my name with your words," he says. "I will have your apology and you will surrender that black jadesteel knife to me, or you will bleed for Sef and Kamis."
"I will not stand down."
"I will not stand down." Haitham smiles. "Looks like we're at an impasse, dog." He lazily salutes Hilmi with his blade, then with more care salutes the icons in the temple, the seconds, and saves a sweeping gracious bow for you. You can't help but beam. He can be very charming.
There's a growl from Hilmi, and his salutes are more like slashes at the air. He stares at you, longing in his eyes. "Meira, I'll bleed him for you and then you'll see."
You're about to respond when Sadia nudges you in the ribs. "No, don't say anything," she whispers. "It'd be rude."
And the atmosphere has changed. Everyone can feel the tension in the air, the longing for blood. The two men start to circle each other. Their bare feet slap against the stone floor. The smell of the incense and the clinging heat of Cahzor make you feel light-headed - no, that's not it, is it?
It's the chaos in the air. The madness blowing on the wind. Now the crowd has grown silent in anticipation, you can hear the screaming gale outside.
Their blades clash as Hilmi steps in with a tentative cut. Haitham parries and ripostes - his rival steps back rather than press the attack.
You can immediately see the difference in the way they hold their blades. Hilmi is a cavalryman from the slightly bow-legged way he stands, and you're pretty sure he's trained in some southern relative of Sword-Wind Style. He'll be fast, but you think he's used to a heavier weapon - and maybe it's not quite his preferred length, either. Haitham, by contrast, looks like the perfect duellist; his guard clearly formally proscribed, his stance graceful and relaxed.
And that would match your previous observations. Haitham isn't some untrained layabout. He can handle a blade well, and he's earned his scars. But he is a duellist, first and foremost. Hilmi is not. He'd rather be riding a man down, slashing down at his head and shoulders from atop his steed.
This time it's Haitham's turn, and he tests the shorter man's defence with tentative thrusts, not quite committing, not stepping in enough to open himself up.
"Come on, coward," Haitham says, lips half-smiling, half locked in an adrenaline snarl.
Hilmi says nothing - but no, his pride is stung. Next time Haitham does one of his lazy stabs, he parries and steps in to cut to chest - but Haitham's blade ducks under his and now he's wide open. Haitham flicks to his wrist, and Hilmi catches the blow on the guard.
It's the mark for the next step of the duel. They've been testing each other out, you decide. You're sure they must have fought before. And so it's Hilmi who presses in, trying to push Haitham back into the circle of onlookers and overcome his rival's longer reach.
Back, forwards, back. The blades clatter against each other like the march of a troupe as the men follow each parry with a riposte that is parried in turn.
And then Haitham's blade dances around a cut, and with a circular parry that pushes the weapon off target he lashes out. Hilmi yelps, leaping back, bleeding from a long gasp down his right forearm.
"Ah ha!" Haitham crows. "A hit!"
Your heart is racing, pounding in your chest. You can't help but lean forwards. This is exhilarating.
"Just a graze," Hilmi growls through clenched teeth.
"Are you sure, old boy?" Haitham asks. His blade flicks out to parry Himili's sneaky cut to his forearm. "Looks like you're bleeding. You should give up. Lie down. You're probably feeling wooz-"
He can't finish his taunting as Hilmi launches into an aggressive series of chops, pressing in past the guard of his lanky opponent. One, two, three, he hammers down at Haitham's head. The third comes in at an off angle, sneaking past his guard, and Haitham cries out.
The two separate, and you can see that Haitham is bleeding down the left temple. The point must have just grazed him. With his free hand, Haitham wipes his brow. You wince. Scalp wounds always bleed profusely, and he's fortunate the blood isn't getting in his eyes.
In the firelight, the red sparkles like rubies on their sweaty bodies. Both are breathing heavily, and Hilmi clearly is in pain from his arm. But he's the first one to attack again. He lunges explosively and Haitham barely throws himself aside from the point. He didn't expect that and there's no riposte coming. The next cut is scored against Haitham, the tip sneaking past his guard to score a glancing hit against his bicep, but only by seconds - when they separate, Hilmi is bleeding from a split lip where Haitham punched him with the heavy guard of his sword.
"Had to use a cheap trick," Hilmi growls, spitting blood on the floor.
Haitham works out his arm, blood oozing from it. "Dear boy, if you didn't see that coming, then you," he starts, and Hilmi twitches, trying to guard against the feint, "aren't a quarter of the man I thought you are." Another feint, another twitch. "And that makes you very little of a man at all." A third feint, almost no twitch. "I really don't think that Meira would be happy with such a little man."
You giggle. Just a little bit. It's something to watch. He's taking Hilmi apart, because Hilmi is governed by the fire in his nature. He's not stupid, but passion makes him dumb.
And when Hilmi snarls and steps in, drawing his arm back, Haitham starts - only this time, it isn't a feint. And the other man is too inured to that motion to notice it. His rising cut scores along the underside of Hilmi's arm, nearly from armput to elbow,
But Hilmi's guard is too slow - weakened by the cuts on his arm - and Haitham's blade dances across to score a scarlet line across his chest.
The crowd cheers and Haitham flourishes his point. It's over. Only Hilmi doesn't think that's enough. He doesn't stop.
Their blades clash, Haitham knocks Hilmi's point off target, and as he passes trips him. The shorter man sprawls to the floor, his blade skittering along the stone, and this time Haitham has his weapon's point against the back of his neck.
"Yield," he says. He pushes in deep enough to break the skin, and scarlet wells up around the tip. "Or I carve my family tree into your back."
Hilmi growls, low and feral.
"Yield," Haitham repeats, dragging the blade down, cutting his back open with a lazy smile on his lips.
"He yields," Hilmi's second says loudly, wincing at the sight. "He yields! For fuck's sake, Haith, stop it! He yields!"
"Yes!" Hilmi gasps, pounding the ground with his fist.
Only then does the blade rise. "What fun little sport, my boy," Haitham says, wiping his blade off on Hilmi's trousers. "Feel free to challenge me again any time."
"I will, you fuck!"
"It'll end the same way as this time. Just thing, Hilmi! You can get scars and maybe you'll find a lady some day who's impressed by a sign of such a manly ability to lose time and time again and carry on through the pain." He offers his blade to his second, and walks towards you. "Only it won't be Meira," he says, over his shoulder. "She prefers a winner."
"My hero," you say, because that's what you're traditionally meant to say at moments like this.
He wraps you up in his arms. He stinks of blood and sweat and maleness as he kisses you deeply. All eyes are on you; Yasmine's, Zia's, Sadia's, and Munir's among the jansi here and there's a bit of you that really loves the attention. But only a bit. The more mature part reminds you he's being very forwards, and so you break the kiss.
"Just look at the mess you're making of my dress," you say, escaping his arms. You're pretty sure he'll be hurting more when he comes down from the adrenaline rush from the pain. "You're bleeding all over me."
"A stain of honour."
"But still a stain."
"Now, perhaps, seeing my bravery and that I am willing to risk my flesh for you…" Haitham gives you a cheeky grin, "... now will you marry me?"
You sigh extravagantly. The silly boy is impatient. You mentally deduct him points. "How could I marry a man who just got blood on my dress?" you say, weaving a little heart-broken catch into your voice. "One fight is not enough to win my heart." You release him, and give a little fluttery wave with just the fingers of your hand. "Now, shoo. Go get those wounds seen to."
"So you do care."
"Excuse me?" You stare at him from under hooded lids. "You'll be sleeping alone tonight for making me worry, young man."
He's beaming now - understanding that this is a reward of sorts. "She's such a hard woman," he says to the crowd, with a melodramatic sigh. He strolls over to Yasmine who - you're pretty sure from what little you can see of her face - is staring at him hatefully.
"Really?" Sadia asks you, rolling her eyes.
You shrug. "Just a little fun, darling," you say softly. "Let him have his sport. Now, I don't suppose you have a cloth on you? I wasn't joking about him bleeding on my dress. I'll be quite put out if he ruins it."
Dinner that evening occurs in the grand dining hall once again. It is in every way a lesser version of the meal the previous day. The food is plainer. There are no blueberries and much less fruit. The meal is hearty and heavily spiced, but there are fewer courses and you notice how much it's bulked out with lentils and chickpeas.
The jansi don't seem to care or notice. Well, apart from Sadia who is always there with sly comments about how this shows that the Kinzira put everything into that one big meal. Her verdigris-tinted jewelry gleams in the oil lanterns.
For your part, you're just feeling tired. After all, you didn't get much sleep last night, and you spent most of the afternoon exploring the fortress. Your feet are hurting and your legs aching. You don't really feel like dancing.
So you make your excuses after you eat, and retreat back to your room with a bottle of wine, making your way down the rounded corridors with only your oil lamp for company.
There are footsteps behind you. You turn to see Haitham jogging to catch up. He's bandaged up, and there are stains on the cloth. Something tells you Yasmine didn't try her hardest as you watched her stitch him up. His new black jadesteel knife gleams on his belt. "Meira," he says. "Were you bored of those tiresome people?"
"I just needed an early night," you say.
He wraps his arms around your waist, pushing you up against the wall. His lips are against yours, warm and tasting of wine. "An early night sounds like fun," he says.
You slip away from him easily. He doesn't expect you to be that flexible. "An early night alone," you say. "You need to rest so your stitches heal, and I'm tired. I didn't get much sleep last night."
"But…"
You lean in to kiss him again. "Bed," you command. "Rest up. And maybe I'll see you in the morning. But for now, it's goodnight."
"I'll come to your door and sing you romantic songs in the morrow."
"Wake me up when I'm trying to sleep in, and I might have to feed you to the demon-king of Hell," you tell him. But you're smiling, so he knows it's a joke. And it is one! You certainly wouldn't feed him to a demon!
"Oh, you heart-breaker, you cruel and vicious woman!"
You give him one last goodnight kiss. "Yes. Yes, I am."
And with that said, you enter your room and close the door behind you. You sigh extravagantly, running your tongue over your lips. He is a silly boy. Fun, though.
Sei is waiting for you, sprawled out on your bed and no doubt getting fur all over the sheets. He opens one eye a crack as you enter. "My goodness," he says. "My lady, you're willingly sleeping alone? Will wonders never cease?"
You ignore his petty jibes, and slip off your shoes with a sigh of relief.
"Was lover-boy a disappointment?"
"No, I'm just tired." You yawn. "Sometimes a lady just wants a quiet night in. And honestly, the food wasn't half as good tonight."
"Can I eat his soul?"
You glare at your familiar. "No."
"But what if I gave you something nice?"
"I'll consider it later, depending on the quality of your gift."
Sei flicks his tails and rolls over, waggling his legs in the air. "Such a shame. Here you are, a lonely woman well into her second century who's gone back to her room alone with a bottle of wine and only has her pet cat for company."
You throw your shoe at him. It hits, and he slithers off the bed with an undignified squawk. "You had that coming," you tell him.
"Is that what Haitham said last night?" a rebellious voice mutters from the other side of your bed.
"You shut your mouth, insolent whelp! I have another shoe!"
"Mercy, mercy," he drawls.
You settle yourself down on your bed, and pour yourself a cup of wine. With a sigh, you take the other cup and give him a measure, too. "Here you go, you beast," you concede in your infinite generosity, placing the cup on the floor. "If I am going to be an old lady alone save for her pet, you might as well drink with me."
That's enough to get him to come out from under the bed, and start lapping at the wine. "Cheers," he says indistinctly.
Outside the wind screams, and thunder booms. The oil lamp wavers. "I wonder where they get the oil for this," you say, glancing at the wavering flame. There's hints of blue and green around the edge of the flame; a mark of the storm.
"I don't care."
"Maybe it's upstream. I saw oilslicks on the water. Maybe there's tar pits upstream. Or one of the families has the alchemy to brew oil. Maybe there's even tarry sediments in these Kinzira mines. Explains why they have any money left at all when they import all these expensive dishes - on ice, no doubt!"
"So?"
You swirl the wine in your cup. "I wonder this, because this house must be burning through it at a prodigious rate, given there isn't even light in the day. I'd really hate to be stuck here in the dark with these people." You put your drink down, and ease yourself out of your dress. The blood is staining, and you have no idea how you'll get it out while you're here. There will be servants back at the hotel who can do that kind of thing, but until then… urgh. Men! "How long until the storm lets up?"
Sei looks up from his wine. "A couple more days, at least," he says. "Predicting chaos is a fool's errand, but there's too much flux in the air for there to be much of a chance of the world crushing it yet."
You sigh. "Much as I'd thought," you say. "It's too wild out there for there to be much of a chance of being able to leave tomorrow."
"My, are you bored?" he asks slyly.
"Honestly, yes." You stretch out on your bed. "There are some interesting people here, but so many of these jansi are small-minded fools who are only interested in their next meal."
"You say that, but you have been known to indulge in feasting whenever you get the chance. Especially if someone else is paying."
"There are so precious few people that are fun enough," you say, ignoring him. "And I'm feeling trapped. This building is awful." You glance over the vermillion walls. "I don't like their style and I don't like how everything is…" you rub your fingers together, looking for the words, "... greasy. Or maybe it's just the way that there's nothing green in here. I'm feeling dry. Pulled thin."
Sei pokes his head above the edge of the bed, his slitted eyes gleaming. "So, what will you do, my lady?"
"Entertain myself while the storm lasts, of course," you say. "At least while the food and entertainment lasts. See who I can make useful. But…" you sigh, "I don't like these people. And they all want me to like them."
"Well, if it helps, I don't like you."
"Yes, but you're a soul-eating monster trapped in my service." You refill your cup. Fuck it, sometimes a lady needs to get drunk on mediocre wine while sitting around in her underwear with her pet cat for company. It's her own prerogative. "You don't count."
Article: What Are Rena's Plans For The Second Day? (Pick Two)
[ ] Further your manipulative seduction of Haitham.
[ ] Girl-talk with Sadia, and see what you can pick up from her.
[ ] Find out more about the Kinzira deity.
[ ] Seek out someone else you talked to at the ball:
- [ ] Who?
[ ] Look further into the Cahzori duelling culture now you've seen it
- Location
- Library
[X] Further your manipulative seduction of Haitham.
That seems like no-brainer. He can duel and we are already invested. Let's squeeze the advantage out of this one.
[X] Look further into the Cahzori duelling culture now you've seen it
I have bad premonition that we will get into duel sooner than later, so knowing a bit about rules and players of how this game is run around here can't hurt. Not as certain choice as the first one, but for now it should be ok.
That seems like no-brainer. He can duel and we are already invested. Let's squeeze the advantage out of this one.
[X] Look further into the Cahzori duelling culture now you've seen it
I have bad premonition that we will get into duel sooner than later, so knowing a bit about rules and players of how this game is run around here can't hurt. Not as certain choice as the first one, but for now it should be ok.
- Location
- USA
[X] Girl-talk with Sadia, and see what you can pick up from her.
Sadia's almost certainly going to have a better read on the developing situation than Rena will, and she's just generally fun to gossip with. Day three of the party is starting and she's bound to know who, if anyone, is starting to fray.
[X] Find out more about the Kinzira deity.
Torn between the Kinzira deity or the "Sef and Kamis" that Hilmi and Haitham invoked, but ultimately the family deity is probably better and easier to research in the here and now.
Sadia's almost certainly going to have a better read on the developing situation than Rena will, and she's just generally fun to gossip with. Day three of the party is starting and she's bound to know who, if anyone, is starting to fray.
[X] Find out more about the Kinzira deity.
Torn between the Kinzira deity or the "Sef and Kamis" that Hilmi and Haitham invoked, but ultimately the family deity is probably better and easier to research in the here and now.
- Location
- Singapore
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Girl-talk with Sadia, and see what you can pick up from her.
[X] Find out more about the Kinzira deity.
[X] Find out more about the Kinzira deity.
[X] Girl-talk with Sadia, and see what you can pick up from her.
[X] Find out more about the Kinzira deity.
I think @changeling is right, and we're gonna wind up forced into a duel at some point.
I just think it's more interesting if we're ignorant about it, and a plucky young hero can trip us up and force us into a disadvantageous position.
[X] Find out more about the Kinzira deity.
I think @changeling is right, and we're gonna wind up forced into a duel at some point.
I just think it's more interesting if we're ignorant about it, and a plucky young hero can trip us up and force us into a disadvantageous position.
boo600
Ego sum egredietur tempestas.
- Location
- Texas
- Pronouns
- He/Him/Hungry
They're duelling- a story-fitting activity- with a Wyldstorm outside?
Ugh! Idiots. No wonder they fell so hard into archetypes. I just hope there aren't any Raksha interested in them- if they've been watching us, it'll be harder to enslave them successfully!
THis is bad.
Well, if you upset the Healer...
ASK HIM! Don't leave the mystery option as a mystery! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!
Ah, well. We gave him wine. That's good.
[X] Plan Practical Time-Usage
[X] Girl-talk with Sadia, and see what you can pick up from her.
[X] Find out more about the Kinzira deity.
Finding out anything we missed, and learning the strength of the local deity who this duel was dedicated to.
Maybe we could win a trophy in a duel with the deity, add to our spells!
I know Exalted is heavy in social manipulation, but there's so little happening here! There's an expedition to get to, and gods to steal souls from, and mortals to steal souls from, and Rena is doing so little, comparatively, to rebuild her power base!
I swear I'd be less antsy if there wasn't a Wyldstorm RIGHT THERE. There's got to be a way to harvest power from those things, and we're doing NOTHING?
Gaaaaah!
At least Rena's having fun. And I'm enjoying what little we've gathered on the people and politics.
But! Let's start doing things! Villains act, heroes react, and right now, we're playing the hero!
Let's just steal a few souls and hunker down. Or manipulate the local political field.
Sorry. I'm Tzeentchian, not Slaaneshi! An infernal, not a Solar! I'm not happy unless we're influencing the world somehow. (And I know Solars influence the world. But during the First Age, they sorta stopped.)
[X] Girl-talk with Sadia, and see what you can pick up from her.
[X] Find out more about the Kinzira deity.
So many hints of Hell cultists among the Jansi.
[X] Find out more about the Kinzira deity.
So many hints of Hell cultists among the Jansi.
[X] Girl-talk with Sadia, and see what you can pick up from her.
[x] Seek out someone else you talked to at the ball:
- [x] Yasmine
[x] Seek out someone else you talked to at the ball:
- [x] Yasmine
- Location
- Canada
It seems I badly underestimated Haitham's dueling ability. Good news: we probably don't have to worry about him dying unless he challenges some other DB or something. Bad news: he will probably want to duel Rena or one of her other lovers when we inevitably cheat on him. Ergo, Rena should probably learn about dueling.
[X] Look further into the Cahzori duelling culture now you've seen it
[X] Find out more about the Kinzira deity.
[X] Look further into the Cahzori duelling culture now you've seen it
[X] Find out more about the Kinzira deity.
Vocalist
Verdant Maiden in Violet
- Location
- By a Cedar Tree
You know what's entertaining? Rena.
Hey, knitting needles can cause damage even without sharpening. There's a reason you can't bring them on planes.
Oh, this is the "look at my fancy scars" kind of duelling. Scrubs.
It's great that we have Sadia here to keep us from making social faux pas.
Is it really a fair duel if one of the parties can't use his preferred weapon?
She only has the one dress, you idiot! There's no changing clothes while we're trapped in this place!
It would be a raksha.
You have no idea how correct you are, Haitham.
Murder mystery in the dark! Murder mystery in the dark! Murder mystery in the dark!
[X] Girl-talk with Sadia, and see what you can pick up from her.
[X] Find out more about the Kinzira deity.
The vote was tough, but here's my logic: Haitham can wait a day, because he won't lose interest in Rena that quickly no matter how flighty he is. Duelling is not a priority, because I feel confident that Rena can continue to manipulate people into fighting for her, at least for now. Haitham is our big mark, so I don't want to go after one of the other guests: that would be pulling too many plots at once. I want to talk to Sadia for her knowledge of the political scene, and I want to investigate Fat God because I am utterly wedded to my secret cannibal cult theory.