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Mare Internum: An Exalted Quest

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[X] I learned things about myself.
JustGazzer took the first post but I still feel obliged to vote this.
 
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The Proud Do Not Endure 40
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    • JustGazzer said:
    [X] It was pretty intense, let me tell you.
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    "It was pretty intense, let me tell you."

    ORISON: "Oh yeah?" the amused look in his eyes spreads to his mouth, which smirks.

    "I mean, I can tell you about it if you want, but I'm pretty sure these things are meant to be confidential."

    ORISON: "Well, say no more then, you should keep such things to yourself, for the honour of all involved." He chuckles. "You're a good sport, lady. You rest well, now."

    "Yeah, you too."

    Orison returns to his bed, and you make yourself comfortable on a threadbare cushion sat by the landing, overlooking the stairs and the busy hall below.

    Exhaustion washes over you. You take a deep breath and feel a pang in your side.

    the right one has a hole burned directly through it

    You try not to think about that. You try not to think about who would do something like that to you.

    You did.

    BRINDLE: "Lady?"

    You open your eyes, now fully adjusted to the gloom. You pick out the face of the young legionary, pale face and sandy hair gleaming silver in the half-light.

    "Hey."

    BRINDLE: "I brought your supper, lady."

    He holds out a rustically carved wooden bowl, which you accept. It's cold. You see something red and lumpy within. Your stomach growls audibly. There's a pain there, sharper than hunger.

    all your major organs have been perforated mutliple times

    BRINDLE: "Sorry it's cold, we can't start a real fire in here. Smoke."

    smoke inhalation damage

    "It's ok. Thanks. Brindle, was it?"

    You see the blush raise in his cheeks. It makes him look younger. He can't be more than fifteen.

    BRINDLE: "That's me, lady. I... thank you for your help, today. I think they would have been dead out there without you. We all owe you."

    "I don't know what I'm doing, Brindle. I'm glad it's working out for you, though."

    BRINDLE: "Yeah, we heard you were having some... trouble. But you've got a good heart, that's what matters."

    your heart has been pulverized and reconstructed

    You don't say anything. What can you say?

    BRINDLE: "I... well, let me know if there's anything you need." he points to the door behind you. "Your bed is made up through there. Gannet and Dunland are sleeping there now before their scout shift, so go quiet."

    "Will do. Goodnight, Brindle."

    He bows his head and hurries off down the stairs.

    Lacking eating implements, you do what you assume is intended and eat with your fingers. You feel the cold, slimy texture of the food and dread the taste, but it is surprisingly pleasant. Shredded meat, beans and pulped root vegetables, flavoured with generous doses of cinnamon, pepper and ground cloves.

    CRAFT: Spices like that are beyond the means of most legion meals. Likely they had a little set aside and gave it to you specially.

    It's not the finest meal, but you treasure the spirit in which it was made. And besides which, you are starved. You eat it to the last morsel and lick your fingers clean.

    You drain the last of your water flask an leave the rest of your possessions where they lie, except the sword, which you carry with you as you go to your bed.

    This is still a warzone. Best keep a weapon in reach.

    I'm amazed you're alive

    You don't even remember falling down on the bed. Sleep overtakes you instantly.

    You are nothing and nowhere. Your world is blessedly silent. You wrap yourself in the endless darkness for some unknown time, and do not think of the waking world.

    Is anyone there?

    (XI) EXALTATION: Embrace power.

    Oh, it's you. Do you say anything else?

    (XI) EXALTATION: It is all I need say. There is nothing else. You have nothing else. The world teems with untapped potential, inchoate, incipient, inexorable. You can ride this power, like a ship cresting a storm.

    Why do you want me to do that?

    (XI) EXALTATION: I do not care for why, or how, or should, or maybe. There is no question, no opposition. There is only the answer. There is only one path. Embrace power.

    [ ] Embrace power.
    [ ] Embrace power.
    [ ] Embrace power.
     
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    • [X] Embrace power.

    It's what the Exaltations were built to do. Embrace power, and use it to do the impossible.

    Cast down the sky and build something greater from the pieces.
     
    Jack vile Ripper said:
    This has got to be the hardest choice a Quest can ever offer.

    So guys, do y'all want Power, Power, or Power?
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    It's funny, but there's also truth to it. Being Exalted means having power whether you want it or not. Even if you choose to hide in a monastery and never do anything, that itself is a choice that shapes the world.
     
    TaliesinSkye said:
    It's funny, but there's also truth to it. Being Exalted means having power whether you want it or not. Even if you choose to hide in a monastery and never do anything, that itself is a choice that shapes the world.
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    Ha, that is indeed the truth. We are Exalted. Whether we are the least of the Terrestrials or the highest of Celestials, we need to remember what is the purpose of our existence.

    To kill the unkillable, to fight the typhoons and volcanoes, storms and earthquakes, the infinite and the unquestioned.

    Even if we were to live as but a fisherman all our life, we'd be able to corral a group of recalcitrant water elementals to help us in our journey. Something that no mortals can ever do with ease.
     
    [X] Embrace power!!!!!

    Exclamation points necessary.
     
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    The Proud Do Not Endure 41
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    • TaliesinSkye said:
    [X] Embrace power.
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    Parabola said:
    [X] Embrace power!!!!!
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    Mourning Glory said:
    [X] Embrace power.
    [X] Embrace power.
    [X] Embrace power.
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    The instant you accept the inevitable, you are drowned. The world buries you beneath its liquid flow and draws you deep into the lightless depths, drawing the final, paltry dregs of air from your lungs. Your skin is deadened by the benthic chill even as your core feels the crushing pressure of oceans. You are a speck in the void, dead and adrift.

    Do not fear the darkness of the depths. It is yours.

    The sea rises around you, hadal blackness giving way to the murky teal of the dysphotic sea and the glorious cerulean of the sunlit waves. You stand on the surface of the water, and bask in the sun.

    Schools of fish flit beneath your feet. Seabirds circle overhead. There are sharks here too, and whales, and greater beasts still.

    But you are a dragon, and beyond all of them.

    River your father and ocean your mother,

    You rise above waves, into the black clouds of a gathering storm. You were born here, laughing as the lightning crashed around you, sailing into a hurricane, a fool in love. The world bends to you, sovereign of the storms and the seas. Indescribable euphoria restores your tired muscles, beats in your heart. The glory, the pride and the power.

    Then the dark waters swallow you into a world full of grasping corpses, in aching decades that pass in seconds. The glory and pride are forgotten. Only the power remains.

    clear your eyes, and see the nature of things.

    You drag yourself to the shore with grey skies and grey sands, having forgotten everything, a fly that curls up and dies before the window of truth. You scream in rage and frustration, you ball the sand in your hands, and fall into darkness again.

    Blessed water runs in your veins now that you are pure.

    It will never end. You chose this.

    This is the nature of the Five-Part World, boss.

    What? What did you say?

    I said wake up!

    Air crashes back into your lungs. You cough, strangled, blurred eyes snapping open, marred by the unreality of the dream.

    As your sight slowly resolves, you recognize the face before you.

    "Fincher," you croak. "I was busy having a spiritual revelation."

    FINCHER: "Well you'll have to finish it later. We've got trouble."

    [ ] You don't understand. I embraced power.
    [ ] I think I'm a water dragon.
    [ ] What is the nature of the five-part world?
    [ ] Can you give me five more minutes? I feel like I was getting to the important part.
    [ ] What's wrong?
    [ ] Say nothing, get up and gather your gear.
     
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    • Five part world could be a reference to the five elements, and that seems most likely, although a lot of things in Exalted come in fives. The various Exalted castes, the Five-score fellowship, (And wouldn't it be interesting if we were actually Sidereal? Unlikely after this dream, I suspect, unless we're getting confused with a Destiny we're wearing. But sending a Sidereal alone as a badass representative of the Empress to deal with a problem would make absolute sense, and it would explain the extreme medical interventions.) the Maidens, the magical materials.
     
    Crumplepunch said:
    You speed-count the formation in tens. Six hundred and twenty. They armor consists of a heavy laced-plate hauberk over a padded yellow jacket like yours, and a bronzed helm with a white crest.
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    So, either undead or constructs. Constructs seem more likely.

    This island was the seat of a sorceress queen, so my guess is that someone found a left over cache of mechanical soldiers.
     
    TaliesinSkye said:
    Five part world could be a reference to the five elements, and that seems most likely, although a lot of things in Exalted come in fives. The various Exalted castes, the Five-score fellowship, (And wouldn't it be interesting if we were actually Sidereal? Unlikely after this dream, I suspect, unless we're getting confused with a Destiny we're wearing. But sending a Sidereal alone as a badass representative of the Empress to deal with a problem would make absolute sense, and it would explain the extreme medical interventions.) the Maidens, the magical materials.
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    Being a Water Aspect would go a long ways towards explaining our miraculous survival in the shipwreck. Because, like, we can't drown.
     
    Broken25 said:
    So, either undead or constructs. Constructs seem more likely.

    This island was the seat of a sorceress queen, so my guess is that someone found a left over cache of mechanical soldiers.
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    There is something in canon called a Brass Legionnaire. Basically a first age clockwork soldier. It's a good idea, not something I thought of.
     
    The Proud Do Not Endure 42
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    • Jack vile Ripper said:
    [X] What's wrong?
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    "What's wrong?"

    As her face comes into focus, you see that Fincher looks even more nervous and drawn than she was previously. She stands up from looming over you and paces the room impatiently.

    FINCHER: "Two of my scouts are gone. I want everyone on alert."

    You wipe your brow of the night sweat that built up on it. "Tulip and Wheeler?"

    FINCHER: "No, they made it back."

    She looks over her shoulder to make sure you are alone. The beds of the legionaries you must have shared the room with, who you were too tired to even register last night, are empty, rumpled and unmade.

    FINCHER: "Third shift went out and found what was left of Nost and Collier. It's... bad."

    "I didn't know them." You don't know what else to say.

    FINCHER: "I did."

    She holds your gaze for a few seconds. She looks like she's going to say something else, and thinks better of it.

    FINCHER: "Get your gear, boss. I'll need you."

    She walks out. You hear her barking orders from the landing. After a moment of getting your bearings, you follow, carrying your sheathed sword. The farmhouse hall below bustles with the activity of legionaries an auxilliaries preparing their gear.

    Your possessions are left heaped where you left them. You pull on your padded jacket and start the process strapping your hauberk in place.

    Fincher is already headed downstairs.

    [ ] Follow her, carrying the rest of your gear in your arms.
    [ ] Ask for more details on what is going on.
    [ ] Leave her, she's busy.

    I feel like I'm leaving a lot of descriptions scanty in the interests of moving scenes along, so I'm going to introduce the free option to "Look at X" or "Think about X" in addition to regular selections so readers can generate in-character flavour text on directed subjects. Please use this responsibly.
     
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    • Well, I don't know what standard Legion doctrine is for when scouts turn up dead or missing, but it probably means the enemy knows where we are and might be getting ready to attack. Sounds like we need to relocate.

    [X] Follow her, carrying the rest of your gear in your arms.

    We can arm up while we listen to what orders she's giving and find a good way to help.

    Although I am a little concerned about the 'it was bad'; that suggests it might have been worse than a standard soldier killing a solider type of thing. Hopefully we'll find out more.
     
    They were patrolling then? Not sleeping on the room next door?

    Target of opportunity? Maybe they needed to escape fast and those two were on the way.

    Terror tactic. Unlikely, it would've been more gruesome and there'd be more emphasis on 'presentation' to deteriorate morale.

    Or just simple bad luck. The assailant encounters them and needed for both of them to keep hush-hush. And now they're be taking the info to Stygia.
     
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