Of Silver, Jade, and Steel (Exalted)
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[X ] Train with her but hold off on making a decision regarding the Pact for now. You'd like to interact with the only member of it you know for a while before you make a choice.
Why be hasty? Let's see if we can't get a replacement arm off this lady before we make any long-term commitments.
Why be hasty? Let's see if we can't get a replacement arm off this lady before we make any long-term commitments.
[X] Train with her but hold off on making a decision regarding the Pact for now. You'd like to interact with the only member of it you know for a while before you make a choice.
Chapter 3.4
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[X] Train with her but hold off on making a decision regarding the Pact for now. You'd like to interact with the only member of it you know for a while before you make a choice.
You say, "I'd be interested in the training, but I'd like to get to know you for now before I join anything, if that's alright with you? I mean, you're the only person I know that's in it so far."
Svetlana nods and says, "Certainly, it's quite fine by me. I can get started on that whenever you're ready. For now though, I think it's best you get yourself cleaned up and get some rest."
She takes you outside, where night has now fallen. You walk and keep silent for a time, occasionally glancing over to your arm. Svetlana catches you and says, "Well, Blue, I've got a few ideas on how to deal with that. I still can't believe you met the Silent Wind of Hell and lived through the experience." You don't respond, lost in your own thoughts as you're lead into an ornate bath house on the west side of the Eighth Flame Bastion. Columns of marble rise up to the top of the building, capped by alcoves on which statues of Shogunate soldiers reside. The floor is made of smooth terracotta bricks, and sunken into the middle is a pool filled with clear water, steam rising off the top. Like the main entrance hall, mosaics decorate the sides of this structure, although these are of more pastoral scenes; you believe this depicts Sextes Jylis seeding the earth after the end of the Dragon-blooded revolution. Apple trees, rice fields, carrot flowers, and more all follow in the footsteps of the Immaculate Dragon, and gracious-looking peasants tend to each.
Svetlana tosses you a towel and says, "There's a side room near here where you can store your clothing and grab some more towels, but I honestly always dump my clothes nearby rather than bother to walk all the way over there and bring a few towels with me. Over to the south is a room with warm water which is where I'll be headed, this here is obviously the steam room, and to the north is the cold water. I think you were supposed to start in the south and make your way north, and also have some servant rub you down in fragrant oils before you start, but that's too much of a bother; I certainly don't like wasting my hard-earned money on frivolous things, and I always just clean off in this room."
You nod, and then wait for her to leave. After stripping down, you lower yourself into the bath and find it is uncannily the perfect temperature for you. The public baths of Nexus were never quite right; either the water would be boiling since a bored bath attendant had just tossed the heated water in or it would be at air temperature from being left to sit for days at a time, accumulating all the muck and grime and soot on each citizen. It wasn't uncommon to hear someone had died due to stepping into one of the baths with an open wound and getting gangrene from it, or from catching some plague that had spread within the water. You scrape off the dirt on your hands and dip your head into the water, finding that it's still filled with sand from Cecelyne; particles of silver drift around you before disappearing.
You do your best not to look at the stump as you bathe, but the oddest thing is that you can feel your right arm with you in the water. It still aches, but the water soothes it, somewhat. You take this time to relax and enjoy that peculiar feeling of steam tickling the back of your throat, perhaps overlong, as Svetlana emerges from the other room. Her resemblance to the statues atop the bath house is uncanny now that her face is freed from patches of forge ash; you feel as though any sculptor assigned to make some bust of her in honor of some grand battlefield victory would perhaps find it difficult to truly represent how valiant she looks. She says, "Ah, Blue, I thought you would be done by now. You must be completely pruned up in there."
You say, "I must have lost track of the time," and Svetlana says, "No worries," as she dutifully turns away to look at the mosaics. You clamber out and dry off before you pull all your clothes on. You say, "I'm finished," after throwing your robe back on, and Svetlana turns around and says, "Well, you look better than you did before. I'll show you to a spare room near mine now."
You're lead back into the central building and onto the second story. Your room looks like it might have been an office before; cabinets and desks of ebony have been pushed back against the walls, their places taken by a comfortable looking bed with red silk covers and down-filled pillows. You drop your bag onto the floor, and Svetlana says, "We'll talk further in the morning. I'm eager to get to know you. Honestly, it's been kind of lonely here, I think you'll really liven up the place."
You descend onto the bed and after too long of a pause, ask, "Are you sure you can get my arm back?"
Svetlana says, "Certainly. It could take some time, but it's the least I can do for one of my own."
You nod, and then turn over onto your left side. The last thing you hear is Svetlana leaving, as you fall asleep almost immediately. You have no dreams, yet again.
You awaken sometime in the morning to the smell of something sweet and spicy coming through your door. Its origin, as you find, is Svetlana's chambers. You push your way through the ebony doors to find Svetlana sitting at an intricately carved stone table. A plate is set onto its edges for you, just above the masterful reproduction of the Scavenger Lands in miniature sunken into it. It's an odd dish you've never seen before, slices of bread cooked golden-brown and covered in strawberries, blueberries, apple slices, with a kind of dark-brown syrup drizzled over the top. Cinnamon and hints of another spice caress your nose as you sit down, Svetlana greeting you with a cheery, "Good morning!"
You repeat her greeting back to her and say, "Er, what is this?", pointing at the breakfast in front of you. She leans in, careful that the fine blue dress she's wearing doesn't fall onto her own plate and says, "An old recipe from my homeland, Medo. "Poor Knights' Bread" is probably the best way I can translate it to Riverspeak. It's an easy recipe; you simply dip a day old piece of bread into egg and milk beaten together, and then fry it in oil. Of course, you can keep adding onto it, like I did with the fruits and the maple syrup. Only thing that wouldn't be from my country is the cinnamon and nutmeg."
You wave a fork at her say, "Didn't you tell me you don't spend your money on frivolous things? Nutmeg's pretty pricey; it only comes from the West to my knowledge", and she immediately looks as if you had just spit on her. "Blue, I'll tell you that food is not a frivolous matter! It is the very fuel of life. A master of the forge would not dare to use subpar charcoal to make iron, so why would I fuel my soul with nothing but rice and lentils like some Immaculate anchorite? Now eat, girl, you look like you could use it."
You slice off a piece of bread laden with slices of apple, as she does, and take a bite. You're amazed at the flavor; if this were a book of poetry and not food, it would be passed down onto the ages and praised for its perfect composition. You feel a mild bit of regret at eating this; if it were possible, you'd put this in a museum. Hunger overrides your respect for this meal, and you dig in, taking every bit of it you can. Your plate is utterly barren in under five minutes.
Svetlana, meanwhile, leisurely eats her own food, and says, "Well, do you mind telling me about yourself and about the circumstances surrounding your Exaltation?"
You recount to her a truncated version of your life story. You were born in Nexus, raised by monks, joined a gang with your friend, met a Dragon-blood from the Realm, got stabbed for working with him, met Luna, got the Exaltation, had an unexpected transformation to go along with it, went to Marita and met Kash, traveled north, met a Solar, went to Hell, lost an arm, and wound up here. Svetlana calmly listens to you narrate, and when you finish, remarks, "Huh. A big story for only seventeen years on Creation, lots of twists and turns. I think I'd like to help you continue it."
You say, "Well, I'd like to as well, but I've got the best assassins Lookshy has on my trail." She nods and says, "Yes, that's going to take me a while to figure a way out of that whole mess, but I'll move heaven and earth to get the Hunt off your scent. In any case, I'd like to talk about the arm situation. I don't know if you've tried it, but that wound carries over to most other forms you have, and that'll cripple most beasts. Trust me when I say that being able to turn into a bird or horse can be the difference between life and death. I'd also like to make getting it back a learning experience for you."
You raise your eyebrows at that and say, "I mean, I'm open to it, but what do you mean?"
She says, "Well, I figure I might as well try to teach you something on the way towards getting it back. I can make you a new arm myself. It'll take me a couple of months, but I can wring it forth from moonsilver to your desires and specifications, within reason. I think, however, I'd like to incorporate the remains of something mystical into it; it helps deepen your connection to the artifact if we do that. We'll go hunting in the Wyld if that's what you choose. Second way is that we can just take one from a dead Solar. There's a tomb a week and a half's travel from here that I know has a moonsilver arm buried with its owner that is quite well made, but I also know there's a scavenger lord and her retinue set up around it trying to get deeper within where it is located, and I've not a clue what defenses it may or may not have. Finally, there's a meeting about near the end of the next month I'm set to attend with the other Silver Pact teachers, the shahan-yas, in the region. If we're not busy with those other things, I can get you involved, introduce you to a few other Lunars, and see if you can navigate our politicking to get one of them to aid you with your problem."
[ ] You'd like her to make it for you. You suppose you should learn to hunt, it seems to be a necessity for your new life.
[ ] Go tomb-raiding. If Kash was right about Solar crafters, that arm might be very powerful.
[ ] Attend the meeting. It'd be good to actually meet others from the organization Svetlana is trying to convince you to join.
You say, "I'd be interested in the training, but I'd like to get to know you for now before I join anything, if that's alright with you? I mean, you're the only person I know that's in it so far."
Svetlana nods and says, "Certainly, it's quite fine by me. I can get started on that whenever you're ready. For now though, I think it's best you get yourself cleaned up and get some rest."
She takes you outside, where night has now fallen. You walk and keep silent for a time, occasionally glancing over to your arm. Svetlana catches you and says, "Well, Blue, I've got a few ideas on how to deal with that. I still can't believe you met the Silent Wind of Hell and lived through the experience." You don't respond, lost in your own thoughts as you're lead into an ornate bath house on the west side of the Eighth Flame Bastion. Columns of marble rise up to the top of the building, capped by alcoves on which statues of Shogunate soldiers reside. The floor is made of smooth terracotta bricks, and sunken into the middle is a pool filled with clear water, steam rising off the top. Like the main entrance hall, mosaics decorate the sides of this structure, although these are of more pastoral scenes; you believe this depicts Sextes Jylis seeding the earth after the end of the Dragon-blooded revolution. Apple trees, rice fields, carrot flowers, and more all follow in the footsteps of the Immaculate Dragon, and gracious-looking peasants tend to each.
Svetlana tosses you a towel and says, "There's a side room near here where you can store your clothing and grab some more towels, but I honestly always dump my clothes nearby rather than bother to walk all the way over there and bring a few towels with me. Over to the south is a room with warm water which is where I'll be headed, this here is obviously the steam room, and to the north is the cold water. I think you were supposed to start in the south and make your way north, and also have some servant rub you down in fragrant oils before you start, but that's too much of a bother; I certainly don't like wasting my hard-earned money on frivolous things, and I always just clean off in this room."
You nod, and then wait for her to leave. After stripping down, you lower yourself into the bath and find it is uncannily the perfect temperature for you. The public baths of Nexus were never quite right; either the water would be boiling since a bored bath attendant had just tossed the heated water in or it would be at air temperature from being left to sit for days at a time, accumulating all the muck and grime and soot on each citizen. It wasn't uncommon to hear someone had died due to stepping into one of the baths with an open wound and getting gangrene from it, or from catching some plague that had spread within the water. You scrape off the dirt on your hands and dip your head into the water, finding that it's still filled with sand from Cecelyne; particles of silver drift around you before disappearing.
You do your best not to look at the stump as you bathe, but the oddest thing is that you can feel your right arm with you in the water. It still aches, but the water soothes it, somewhat. You take this time to relax and enjoy that peculiar feeling of steam tickling the back of your throat, perhaps overlong, as Svetlana emerges from the other room. Her resemblance to the statues atop the bath house is uncanny now that her face is freed from patches of forge ash; you feel as though any sculptor assigned to make some bust of her in honor of some grand battlefield victory would perhaps find it difficult to truly represent how valiant she looks. She says, "Ah, Blue, I thought you would be done by now. You must be completely pruned up in there."
You say, "I must have lost track of the time," and Svetlana says, "No worries," as she dutifully turns away to look at the mosaics. You clamber out and dry off before you pull all your clothes on. You say, "I'm finished," after throwing your robe back on, and Svetlana turns around and says, "Well, you look better than you did before. I'll show you to a spare room near mine now."
You're lead back into the central building and onto the second story. Your room looks like it might have been an office before; cabinets and desks of ebony have been pushed back against the walls, their places taken by a comfortable looking bed with red silk covers and down-filled pillows. You drop your bag onto the floor, and Svetlana says, "We'll talk further in the morning. I'm eager to get to know you. Honestly, it's been kind of lonely here, I think you'll really liven up the place."
You descend onto the bed and after too long of a pause, ask, "Are you sure you can get my arm back?"
Svetlana says, "Certainly. It could take some time, but it's the least I can do for one of my own."
You nod, and then turn over onto your left side. The last thing you hear is Svetlana leaving, as you fall asleep almost immediately. You have no dreams, yet again.
You awaken sometime in the morning to the smell of something sweet and spicy coming through your door. Its origin, as you find, is Svetlana's chambers. You push your way through the ebony doors to find Svetlana sitting at an intricately carved stone table. A plate is set onto its edges for you, just above the masterful reproduction of the Scavenger Lands in miniature sunken into it. It's an odd dish you've never seen before, slices of bread cooked golden-brown and covered in strawberries, blueberries, apple slices, with a kind of dark-brown syrup drizzled over the top. Cinnamon and hints of another spice caress your nose as you sit down, Svetlana greeting you with a cheery, "Good morning!"
You repeat her greeting back to her and say, "Er, what is this?", pointing at the breakfast in front of you. She leans in, careful that the fine blue dress she's wearing doesn't fall onto her own plate and says, "An old recipe from my homeland, Medo. "Poor Knights' Bread" is probably the best way I can translate it to Riverspeak. It's an easy recipe; you simply dip a day old piece of bread into egg and milk beaten together, and then fry it in oil. Of course, you can keep adding onto it, like I did with the fruits and the maple syrup. Only thing that wouldn't be from my country is the cinnamon and nutmeg."
You wave a fork at her say, "Didn't you tell me you don't spend your money on frivolous things? Nutmeg's pretty pricey; it only comes from the West to my knowledge", and she immediately looks as if you had just spit on her. "Blue, I'll tell you that food is not a frivolous matter! It is the very fuel of life. A master of the forge would not dare to use subpar charcoal to make iron, so why would I fuel my soul with nothing but rice and lentils like some Immaculate anchorite? Now eat, girl, you look like you could use it."
You slice off a piece of bread laden with slices of apple, as she does, and take a bite. You're amazed at the flavor; if this were a book of poetry and not food, it would be passed down onto the ages and praised for its perfect composition. You feel a mild bit of regret at eating this; if it were possible, you'd put this in a museum. Hunger overrides your respect for this meal, and you dig in, taking every bit of it you can. Your plate is utterly barren in under five minutes.
Svetlana, meanwhile, leisurely eats her own food, and says, "Well, do you mind telling me about yourself and about the circumstances surrounding your Exaltation?"
You recount to her a truncated version of your life story. You were born in Nexus, raised by monks, joined a gang with your friend, met a Dragon-blood from the Realm, got stabbed for working with him, met Luna, got the Exaltation, had an unexpected transformation to go along with it, went to Marita and met Kash, traveled north, met a Solar, went to Hell, lost an arm, and wound up here. Svetlana calmly listens to you narrate, and when you finish, remarks, "Huh. A big story for only seventeen years on Creation, lots of twists and turns. I think I'd like to help you continue it."
You say, "Well, I'd like to as well, but I've got the best assassins Lookshy has on my trail." She nods and says, "Yes, that's going to take me a while to figure a way out of that whole mess, but I'll move heaven and earth to get the Hunt off your scent. In any case, I'd like to talk about the arm situation. I don't know if you've tried it, but that wound carries over to most other forms you have, and that'll cripple most beasts. Trust me when I say that being able to turn into a bird or horse can be the difference between life and death. I'd also like to make getting it back a learning experience for you."
You raise your eyebrows at that and say, "I mean, I'm open to it, but what do you mean?"
She says, "Well, I figure I might as well try to teach you something on the way towards getting it back. I can make you a new arm myself. It'll take me a couple of months, but I can wring it forth from moonsilver to your desires and specifications, within reason. I think, however, I'd like to incorporate the remains of something mystical into it; it helps deepen your connection to the artifact if we do that. We'll go hunting in the Wyld if that's what you choose. Second way is that we can just take one from a dead Solar. There's a tomb a week and a half's travel from here that I know has a moonsilver arm buried with its owner that is quite well made, but I also know there's a scavenger lord and her retinue set up around it trying to get deeper within where it is located, and I've not a clue what defenses it may or may not have. Finally, there's a meeting about near the end of the next month I'm set to attend with the other Silver Pact teachers, the shahan-yas, in the region. If we're not busy with those other things, I can get you involved, introduce you to a few other Lunars, and see if you can navigate our politicking to get one of them to aid you with your problem."
[ ] You'd like her to make it for you. You suppose you should learn to hunt, it seems to be a necessity for your new life.
[ ] Go tomb-raiding. If Kash was right about Solar crafters, that arm might be very powerful.
[ ] Attend the meeting. It'd be good to actually meet others from the organization Svetlana is trying to convince you to join.
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[X] Go tomb-raiding. If Kash was right about Solar crafters, that arm might be very powerful
otgw voice: I wanna steal
otgw voice: I wanna steal
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god I have no idea why I'm even bothering with this, I just think this sucks and was a mistake. I guess I'll take a break and see if I have the will to keep doing this but I doubt it
[X] Attend the meeting. It'd be good to actually meet others from the organization Svetlana is trying to convince you to join.
- Location
- Virginia
[X] Attend the meeting. It'd be good to actually meet others from the organization Svetlana is trying to convince you to join.
Chapter 3.5
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We're back. Let's get this going again.
We're tied, but one of my friends who reads this did want us to go raiding tombs, so, I'll just count my good pal as a vote and...
[X] Go tomb-raiding. If Kash was right about Solar crafters, that arm might be very powerful.
Twirling your fork, you raise your eyebrows and say, "There's a moonsilver arm a few miles from here? How convenient. One would think life revolves around me or something."
Svetlana pushes another berry into her mouth and shrugs. "Fate loves its contrivances, my new student. Best not to think about it too much or you wind up like the Sidereals, always fretting over everything being an omen of some kind. Be happy there's an arm waiting for you."
You laugh rather bitterly, saying, "Yeah, in an Anathema tomb. We've got six of them in Nexus and they're about the third biggest hazard to tourists after Mummer's Pox and falling into the canals. Does this one not have a bunch of skulls that incinerate people with bale-fire? If I were the person in there and I didn't have something like that, I think I'd haunt the architects forever."
Your mentor nods, saying, "Yes, I've been to Nexus myself and seen them all. Believe me when I say they're an exception to the rule, although I've never been able to figure out why. Generally the more dangerous ones were constructed by the Solars themselves, or at least the ones who actually thought they would die one day, but the ones in Nexus were all built by Sidereals with unusually excessive defenses. No, this one was erected by Dragon-blooded. Still incredibly lethal to most mortals, but with my tutelage, I think you'll be fine."
"If I lose another limb, it's on you, I guess. So, who's the corpse?" As you continue to spin your fork on your porcelain plate, you deeply wish you had perhaps savored your breakfast a little more. Svetlana interrupts your mourning by saying, "Ah, right. The occupant would be Meril Thorn-Bearer, if I've read the hieroglyphics on the structure correctly. A Solar of the Twilight Caste, but apparently not one of their mightiest. I'd say judging from where it's located and the trend of Dragon-blooded constructing Solar tombs directly where they felled their former masters, she'd have been fleeing Sperimin. My gut says she was one of the researchers there."
You think for a moment, drawing on your own experiences in Nexus, and ask, "Was Sperimin some kind of university?"
She smiles wide, saying, "Very close, Blue. It was one of a handful of Solar cities dedicated to studying the art of sorcery and other fields of scholarship. Currently, it's inhabited by Raksi, another Lunar, but I'm... not on good terms with her."
You decide not to press the issue when you read the expression behind her smile, and redirect with, "So, how'd you know she had a moonsilver arm?"
She says, "Ah, right. There was a very subtle reference to her being 'silver-handed' in the Old Realm on her tomb. The sentence structure indicated that was far more literal than metaphorical. Very tricky language, Old Realm. Did Kash teach it to you, by any chance?"
You shake your head, saying, "No. Only learned a martial art from him." This causes Svetlana to sigh in a way that reminds you of how the monks would when they saw a younger pupil fail to recite all the characters of Riverspeak for the seventh time in a row, and she says, "Figures he would make you do that. It's such a useful language, it's baffling to me why he didn't teach you that and not-"
You interrupt her by saying, "No, I asked to be taught Laughing Monster Style to protect myself." She waves her hand away dismissively, saying, "Eh, you don't need to practice katas in order to cleave someone apart with a saber or use some pretentiously named technique to pierce their eye at three-hundred paces with an arrow. I suppose it will do, however."
You shrug your shoulders, saying, "Seems like it works for me. So, are we heading out today?" She shakes her head, saying, "I'd prefer you to prepare for a few weeks. Apart from the traps that may be there, there's the scavengers I mentioned. About four dozen to serve as laborers and trap fodder by my count, and a Dragon-blooded outcaste hired to go in after said traps are demonstrated to them."
You say, "Well, maybe they'll get in there before we do and find what we're looking for. Shouldn't be too hard to track a group of that size, even if they lose a few of their number." Svetlana says, "True, but scavenger lords tend to take things slowly. I wouldn't count on it. And even if they did, I'd still say you should take a peek in the tomb, just to drink in the history of it all."
"If you insist, Svetlana. So, what are you going to teach me?" She laughs, as if you were asking her something incredibly obvious to most people, and says, "What would you want to learn? I let my students direct themselves wherever they wish. It seems more effective to me than just foisting knowledge on you like an unwanted gift; I've found that taking the reins so forcefully just means a student will forget what I taught them out of apathy or spite later on."
You've been thinking the whole morning on how to broach this particular topic, and decide to just be blunt. "Can I involve Kash in this? He's been fairly helpful, and I don't think I've quite mastered the style he's been teaching me."
She groans as if you asked her to clean all the canals of Nexus by herself, and says, "By the gods, you're giving me a migraine just by asking that. I'll allow him here for as long as you need his tutelage, but not a moment longer. I'll say it again, the only reason he's allowed here is because he plucked you out of a bad situation and got you here. I'd have been nicer if you were in one piece."
You decide to throw caution to the wind as your curious nature goads you to prod her further, asking, "So, er, what's the cause of all this bad blood between you and him?" Her body tenses up, going as taut as the steel cables of the pulley-box system back in your home city, and she says in a measured voice, "Later, Blue. I wish to be able to focus on helping you, not on the past."
You sigh and decide to also focus on yourself, wondering what exactly you'd like to prioritize.
[ ] Focus solely on the physical side of things. You've learned, perhaps spectacularly so, how things tend to get violent when you're Exalted. Best get to being good at it yourself.
[ ] Focus solely on social skills. If you could perhaps dupe the scavenger lord and their crew into doing all the work for you, or perhaps find some others to do it for you, you'd spare yourself the trouble of having to go through whatever traps lay within.
[ ] Focus solely on knowledge. "The wisdom of the Exalted triumphs over even the mightiest of beasts!", to quote one of your teachers at the shrine. She meant the Dragon-blooded, but you seem to be far more potent than they are, and that would certainly give you the edge in a situation like this.
[ ] Focus on physical training and knowledge. You feel as though the toughs in Nexus would be ten times as fearsome if any of them were actually smart. What hope can one have against a Lunar who combines brains and brawn?
[ ] Focus on physical training and the social graces. You've got a silver tongue and you're not bad with your fists now. Why not make both just as good?
[ ] Focus on knowledge and social skills. You're a plotter, not a fighter, at the end of the day. Better to work on what you're already talented at.
[ ] Focus on a little bit of everything. Why not have a breadth of approaches to apply to any situation?
We're tied, but one of my friends who reads this did want us to go raiding tombs, so, I'll just count my good pal as a vote and...
[X] Go tomb-raiding. If Kash was right about Solar crafters, that arm might be very powerful.
Twirling your fork, you raise your eyebrows and say, "There's a moonsilver arm a few miles from here? How convenient. One would think life revolves around me or something."
Svetlana pushes another berry into her mouth and shrugs. "Fate loves its contrivances, my new student. Best not to think about it too much or you wind up like the Sidereals, always fretting over everything being an omen of some kind. Be happy there's an arm waiting for you."
You laugh rather bitterly, saying, "Yeah, in an Anathema tomb. We've got six of them in Nexus and they're about the third biggest hazard to tourists after Mummer's Pox and falling into the canals. Does this one not have a bunch of skulls that incinerate people with bale-fire? If I were the person in there and I didn't have something like that, I think I'd haunt the architects forever."
Your mentor nods, saying, "Yes, I've been to Nexus myself and seen them all. Believe me when I say they're an exception to the rule, although I've never been able to figure out why. Generally the more dangerous ones were constructed by the Solars themselves, or at least the ones who actually thought they would die one day, but the ones in Nexus were all built by Sidereals with unusually excessive defenses. No, this one was erected by Dragon-blooded. Still incredibly lethal to most mortals, but with my tutelage, I think you'll be fine."
"If I lose another limb, it's on you, I guess. So, who's the corpse?" As you continue to spin your fork on your porcelain plate, you deeply wish you had perhaps savored your breakfast a little more. Svetlana interrupts your mourning by saying, "Ah, right. The occupant would be Meril Thorn-Bearer, if I've read the hieroglyphics on the structure correctly. A Solar of the Twilight Caste, but apparently not one of their mightiest. I'd say judging from where it's located and the trend of Dragon-blooded constructing Solar tombs directly where they felled their former masters, she'd have been fleeing Sperimin. My gut says she was one of the researchers there."
You think for a moment, drawing on your own experiences in Nexus, and ask, "Was Sperimin some kind of university?"
She smiles wide, saying, "Very close, Blue. It was one of a handful of Solar cities dedicated to studying the art of sorcery and other fields of scholarship. Currently, it's inhabited by Raksi, another Lunar, but I'm... not on good terms with her."
You decide not to press the issue when you read the expression behind her smile, and redirect with, "So, how'd you know she had a moonsilver arm?"
She says, "Ah, right. There was a very subtle reference to her being 'silver-handed' in the Old Realm on her tomb. The sentence structure indicated that was far more literal than metaphorical. Very tricky language, Old Realm. Did Kash teach it to you, by any chance?"
You shake your head, saying, "No. Only learned a martial art from him." This causes Svetlana to sigh in a way that reminds you of how the monks would when they saw a younger pupil fail to recite all the characters of Riverspeak for the seventh time in a row, and she says, "Figures he would make you do that. It's such a useful language, it's baffling to me why he didn't teach you that and not-"
You interrupt her by saying, "No, I asked to be taught Laughing Monster Style to protect myself." She waves her hand away dismissively, saying, "Eh, you don't need to practice katas in order to cleave someone apart with a saber or use some pretentiously named technique to pierce their eye at three-hundred paces with an arrow. I suppose it will do, however."
You shrug your shoulders, saying, "Seems like it works for me. So, are we heading out today?" She shakes her head, saying, "I'd prefer you to prepare for a few weeks. Apart from the traps that may be there, there's the scavengers I mentioned. About four dozen to serve as laborers and trap fodder by my count, and a Dragon-blooded outcaste hired to go in after said traps are demonstrated to them."
You say, "Well, maybe they'll get in there before we do and find what we're looking for. Shouldn't be too hard to track a group of that size, even if they lose a few of their number." Svetlana says, "True, but scavenger lords tend to take things slowly. I wouldn't count on it. And even if they did, I'd still say you should take a peek in the tomb, just to drink in the history of it all."
"If you insist, Svetlana. So, what are you going to teach me?" She laughs, as if you were asking her something incredibly obvious to most people, and says, "What would you want to learn? I let my students direct themselves wherever they wish. It seems more effective to me than just foisting knowledge on you like an unwanted gift; I've found that taking the reins so forcefully just means a student will forget what I taught them out of apathy or spite later on."
You've been thinking the whole morning on how to broach this particular topic, and decide to just be blunt. "Can I involve Kash in this? He's been fairly helpful, and I don't think I've quite mastered the style he's been teaching me."
She groans as if you asked her to clean all the canals of Nexus by herself, and says, "By the gods, you're giving me a migraine just by asking that. I'll allow him here for as long as you need his tutelage, but not a moment longer. I'll say it again, the only reason he's allowed here is because he plucked you out of a bad situation and got you here. I'd have been nicer if you were in one piece."
You decide to throw caution to the wind as your curious nature goads you to prod her further, asking, "So, er, what's the cause of all this bad blood between you and him?" Her body tenses up, going as taut as the steel cables of the pulley-box system back in your home city, and she says in a measured voice, "Later, Blue. I wish to be able to focus on helping you, not on the past."
You sigh and decide to also focus on yourself, wondering what exactly you'd like to prioritize.
[ ] Focus solely on the physical side of things. You've learned, perhaps spectacularly so, how things tend to get violent when you're Exalted. Best get to being good at it yourself.
[ ] Focus solely on social skills. If you could perhaps dupe the scavenger lord and their crew into doing all the work for you, or perhaps find some others to do it for you, you'd spare yourself the trouble of having to go through whatever traps lay within.
[ ] Focus solely on knowledge. "The wisdom of the Exalted triumphs over even the mightiest of beasts!", to quote one of your teachers at the shrine. She meant the Dragon-blooded, but you seem to be far more potent than they are, and that would certainly give you the edge in a situation like this.
[ ] Focus on physical training and knowledge. You feel as though the toughs in Nexus would be ten times as fearsome if any of them were actually smart. What hope can one have against a Lunar who combines brains and brawn?
[ ] Focus on physical training and the social graces. You've got a silver tongue and you're not bad with your fists now. Why not make both just as good?
[ ] Focus on knowledge and social skills. You're a plotter, not a fighter, at the end of the day. Better to work on what you're already talented at.
[ ] Focus on a little bit of everything. Why not have a breadth of approaches to apply to any situation?
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[X] Focus solely on the physical side of things. You've learned, perhaps spectacularly so, how things tend to get violent when you're Exalted. Best get to being good at it yourself.
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Arrghh I keep writing fists instead of fist. We've only the one now!
[X] Focus on physical training and the social graces. You've got a silver tongue and you're not bad with your fists now. Why not make both just as good?
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Shit, just realized I have to homebrew an artifact prosthetic arm now
Steal a Mechadendrite?
I vaguely recall an irish hero with a silver hand?
Steal that?
Chapter 3.6
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[X] Focus on physical training and the social graces. You've got a silver tongue and you're not bad with your fists now. Why not make both just as good?
"Well, I think the best thing for me would be to let Kash finish training me. I figure it'll get him out of your hair once we wrap up." Svetlana grunts and says, "Fine. Take up whatever arms you may need from my forge and lead him to the courtyard to do it. Don't let him wander anywhere else, though. I have no wish to talk with him and I definitely do not want him rummaging through my library. Anything else? Surely that's not all you want?"
You nod and say, "Well, I figure it'd be useful to get back into the saddle and get back to exercising my conversational skills. I've had no one but Kash and Inmost Light to talk for weeks, I feel like I'm getting rusty."
Svetlana taps her foot on the stone floor, thinking for a while, before she says, "I think I could bring you along on a few trips into Aluciere. I've got about half the city under my control, maybe you could help eke that out to sixty percent while you're here and learn a few things on the way."
You whistle, saying, "Damn, nice. What's that like, running half of an entire city?"
"Irritating, mostly. I run it through proxies, people I've bent to my will in various ways, but I step in when I want to apply a personal touch. I can't drink in any direct benefits like taxes and what not without exposing myself yet, but the city is on ill enough terms with the Immaculate Faith that shikari hate passing through thanks to a stint I did a hundred years ago as a street prophet. As a result, ancestor worship overtook the Faith as the dominant religion about ten years back and it's been slowly creeping along and swooping up more followers, and I've soured relationships with Lookshy by making fools out of their hired goons."
You note that down, wondering if you'll ever get to a point like this in Nexus. You say, "Well, I look forward to it. Can you tell me where Kash is?"
"Ground floor, third room on the left. You sure you don't want to learn how to fight from me?"
"Maybe some other time. I'll see you later, Svetlana." She nods and escorts you out of her room, saying with a rather desperate look on her face, "Hurry it up, would you? The longer he's here, the more time he's going to have to plot how to worm his way back into my graces."
You say, "I'll try my best?", not really sure if you could possibly make sparring go any faster. You bow to her, and then set off to find your other mentor.
You note instantly that several tiny creepers of smoke are emerging from the third door on the left, where nearby a Brass Legionnaire stands. The smell of burning cannabis hits your nostrils like a sledgehammer, and you sigh deeply. The automaton gives you a brief nod as you slide your robes an inch up so it cover your nose and mouth, and open the door. The fumes from within escape, tendrils spreading like an octopus's arms out into the hallway. You adjust your eyes to see through this miasma, and spot Kash sitting on the edge of the single cot within this otherwise unfurnished room, puffing away on a pipe. You say, "Gods, Kash, how long have you been doing this for?"
"Well, good morning to you too, Blue. I'd say ever since I woke up, but I'm kind of hazy on whether or not I even went to bed last night. Nothing else to do in here. How'd it get with Svetlana?"
You lower your impromptu face mask once you think the majority of the smoke has cleared and say, "Ah, pretty good. She's nice enough to me. Hates your guts, still."
The Sidereal sighs, and says, "Yeah, it figures. It didn't end that well between us."
"You, uh, wanna say why?"
He grimaces and says, "Not really, kid. I take it you didn't come by just to say hello to your good pal. You ready to get back on training?"
You nod and say, "If you're not too high?"
"Please, I've fought far more serious fights on better quality shit than this ditch weed." He rises and points to the war fan you picked up from the armory on your way here and tied to your rope belt, and says, "I see you've found a weapon of your own. Should make stuff more interesting now that I know you can strike me. On occasion."
You roll your eyes and say, "It all adds up, Kash. Come on, let's head outside. We'll see just how many blows I land today."
The next two weeks are akin to your experience traveling to Marita shortly after your Exaltation; events mix together, like salt dissolving in water, save for a few that bob to the surface on account of their significance. The only difference is that you feel as though this time, you've not lost your memories so much as pushed them to the back of your head, where instinct can unleash their imparted wisdom far faster than conscious effort ever could. You can think of two notable scenes as the gates of the Bastion are sealed by their mechanical defenders as you and Svetlana set out towards the tomb; a lesson Svetlana had taught to you during your third day within the city of Aluciere, and Siver Kash's departure just two days ago.
You walk with Svetlana, weaving through other pedestrians on the Dragonfly Bridge, which links the historic western part of Aluciere with its modern age descendant on the east side of the river. Only those of sacred lineage or purpose may cross into the old city, and so Svetlana and you have assumed the role of shrine tenders. She is in the form of an incredibly old River Province native, her skin now colored and textured like that of leather, her back hunched over with age and her hair as white as birch bark. Despite it being midday in summer, she wanders around in five layers of progressively more ornate robes that requires you to follow directly behind her, carrying the trailing fabric so that she doesn't stumble and fall. Your clothes are far less complex; all you have on for your disguise as an apprentice priestess is a simple linen robe died black, a high-waisted violet skirt worn over the robes, and black tabi worn under your sandals. You'd perhaps enjoy wearing women's clothing for the first time far more if it weren't so hot and if your inner Laughing Monster stylist wasn't hollering at you for wearing such impractical things; how can you perform a sweeping kick to shatter someone's femur in such confining garb, and how can you properly mock the enemy with a skirt preventing you from breathing in deeply enough to properly laugh at your foe's misery?
A single white spire known as the Palace of the Boar juts into the sky on this side of the river, dwarfing every other building in Aluciere by virtue of it being just as resilient as its namesake animal. That manse and the bridge are the only two First Age structures that remain intact in the city by virtue of their construction; the enchanted ivory of the Palace and the strange insect wing-like material of the Bridge enabled them to survive the meteor that destroyed Old Aluciere during the waning years of the Great Contagion, according to Svetlana. The city's many shrines are constructed in the ruins of the less fortunate buildings, humble wood-and-stone roofing patching holes in architecture made of a type of concrete whose recipe is long forgotten. Scavenger lords, identifiable by their proclivity towards openly wearing imperishable First Age trinkets, clamber into the temples of fortune spirits and line up by roadside reliquaries containing the bones of successful tomb raiders from centuries past to pray for good luck on their next expedition.
Your business here is simple; Svetlana, known as Gracious Laurel in this form, is attempting to lower the price of renovations for the temple-crypt of the Proper Mourner, the prophet who kindled Aluciere's gradual conversion to ancestor worship; you note several gaping holes in the ceiling of this otherwise lovely shrine, as well as some rot and mold in the wooden flooring. You sweeten up the construction company with your honeyed words and an excellent job done at the introductory coffee-drinking ceremony (for it is considered poor form to pray to the dead while tired) but their leader, a man who is as thin as a harp string and has an umber tone to his skin, seems remarkably resilient to your usual manipulations. Offers of magical blessings are met with polite redirection, suggestions that this would increase his prestige in the city are parried with practiced humility, and so on. You are at wits' end when Svetlana intervenes in a way that fills your head with wonder at the implications. She speaks in a voice that suggests its owner has inhaled far too much incense in their life, saying, "Well, sir, I can say that we cannot afford your price. However, I remind you that the Proper Mourner taught that proper deeds in life increases one fortune's in death tenfold. You may not reap much here, but when your children and grandchildren set up your shrine some time in the future, they will certainly donate more to Peaceful Stone the Charitable than Peaceful Stone the Miser."
Peaceful Stone furrows his brow, thinking, and then sighs, saying, "Alright, Laurel, you win. Five dirhams it is." He shakes Svetlana's wizened hand and after a few more minutes of talking, departs the Proper Mourner's shrine. You two are alone, so you can finally say, "Gods damn, this is incredible!"
Svetlana, grinning, says, "What's got you so excited, oh apprentice?"
"You engineered an entire culture here so you could exploit it later! That guy folded the second you brought up some shit you made up ages ago. I can imagine what else you could do with this."
"Well, I wouldn't say it's completely made up. Ancestor worship has its own benefits compared to bartering with spirits for blessings; ghosts know what it was like to be human, once. The fact that it frustrates and deters Immaculates is just a bonus."
You fidget, perhaps from indulging a bit too much in the coffee from earlier, and say, "Gods, I'm still thinking of what I could do with that. I could set up plots that pay off years in the future."
Your mentor laughs in a way that sounds like a toad croaking, and says, "Oh, why is it restricted to long term goals? As a Lunar, custom and tradition are your playthings, and mortals make plenty of them on their own. So long as you've got the right form and the right knowledge, subcultures and trends are one of the subtlest tools you can make use of."
"Fascinating. Er, tell me one thing, though?"
"What is it, Blue?"
"Whose bones are in that reliquary?" You point to the silver-and-glass box where a complete skeleton, allegedly that of the Proper Mourner, resides.
"Mine, in a way. Once that role was played out, I made a copy of the form of the Mourner and had him choke on a bit of mushroom. The first members of his cult did the rest once they found the body and I was long gone."
"Uh, was that copy alive?"
"Not really. Don't worry about it, Blue."
You worry about it for a long while after.
The sparring grounds are a mess by the time you are finished. Slashes and tears gouge the landscape as if some beast had clawed it apart, and perhaps that's apt in a way. Kash is currently tending to a split lip, caused by striking him with the blunt part of your folded war fan. Your arm is coated in enough bandaging that you'd think your arm was being prepared for mummification, but it's what's necessary to cover the many cuts you were unable to dodge. In addition, you think you've a few broken ribs, received as retribution from cracking a few of Kash's with an elbow strike. You are completely out of breath, and your anima is flaring, illuminating the courtyard with its silver light, but no so much that it reaches miles into the sky like your first day as a Lunar.
Kash spits out a bit of blood and walks over to pick up his sword where you had flung it, sticking straight up into the dirt like a fence post. He speaks for the first time after several long hours of continuous brawling, saying, "Gods, that blow you landed on my mouth would've shattered my incisors there if I weren't an Exalt. Weirdest thing about the Exaltation is that it's quite good at protecting your teeth. I've never seen any Chosen ever missing any teeth that they didn't already lack before they took their Second Breath. I guess the Incarnae are really into dentistry."
"Truly a mystery for the ages if the mighty Sidereals could not decipher why," you say, leaning on the nearby wall to rest for a while. Kash joins you, casting his sword Elsewhere as he relaxes with you. "How are you feeling, Blue?"
You say, "Could be better. I'm glad I figured out the form, finally. Interesting thing, seeing my arm trail off about five illusions of itself. I feel as though it'd look far more impressive if I had the other arm, still."
He scratches his neck, and says, "Yeah, still sorry about that."
"It's fine. I'll be getting a new one soon enough if things go right."
He exhales deeply, than says, "I hope that works out. Say, why did you disarm me? What was your logic there? You know by now that my fists are just as strong as that blade."
You say, "Yeah, I know. I wanted to practice it for when I get into a real fight. You're always holding back a little bit when you're unarmed, but when you wield that sword, I get a bad feeling. I just know if you wanted, you could easily cut me down with it."
He nods, saying, "You're perceptive. I'm a grand-master of Single Point Shining Into Void Style. The whole point of that school is to make a single cut at the right time in the right place to kill someone. Amateurs hack entire limbs off or bisect people, but all I would need to do is cut an inch into the head in just the right spot to stop someone from ever thinking again. However, it can only be performed with a slashing sword; if the stylist has no weapon, they can't perform any of its katas. Did you really learn all that with one glance?"
You are about to say, "Yes, of course!", with quite a bit of pride in yourself, but you stop. How exactly did you know that? You ransack your mind for an answer, and all you can say is, "I've seen it before? But, I haven't. It's odd, I'm not sure of myself."
Kash says, "Ah, sounds like you've been having memories from one of your Exaltation's previous bearers. It happens sometimes; most of the memories attached to it get wiped away when it detaches upon the death of its owner, but some still remain. It usually manifests as a sense of déjà vu or a gut instinct, but I've known a few people who get actual memories out of it. Did you ever have anything like that?"
You think, and say, "Only once. When you mentioned Ildathach, I had a vision of something that I think might have been it."
Kash whistles and says, "Neat. Maybe you should go there once you get tattooed? Could be something important there."
You make a note of it, and say, "So, I'm a master of Laughing Monster now."
"Aye, once you've got the form down, that's it. You'd be eligible to teach it now, but you wouldn't be running the dojo like a grand-master would."
You feel rather accomplished, but then a bit sad. "I guess that means you're done here."
"Yep. The furlough I took has almost ran out, in any case. I'll be back to Heaven shortly, and that will be a fucking mess after all of this. I cannot imagine what waits for me there."
"What's making you go back? Couldn't you just leave your job?"
"It'll be rough, but I've got a strong sense of duty and the perks of employment with the Bureau of Fate are far too much to give up for a stint as a ronin. Also, I figure I want to give as much as I get from those Bronze Faction assholes."
You think for a while, and say, "Well, is there some way of contacting you?"
He nods and says, "When you're in Nexus and you want to say something to me, drop off a letter to the Righteous Alliance of Nexus's Couriers and Deliverymen addressed to 6 Tyrian Way."
"I know the city like the back of my hand. There's no Tyrian Way in Nexus. I take it that the letter somehow winds up in your office desk in Heaven?"
He whistles, saying, "Gods damn, got it in one go. I've got an enchantment I've laid on their workplace, yes.
Your stomach grumbles, and Kash takes note. "Go get dinner, kid. Svetlana's a great cook. I'll see you some other time, and I look forward to it."
You bow deeply, and say, "Goodbye, Kash. Count on it."
By the time you've finished your evening meal, Kash's room in the Eighth Flame Bastion is empty, a fact which fills Svetlana with glee. She breaks out an amphora filled with Lookshyan wine, but you refuse when she offers you some. You spend a long time that night thinking about when exactly you're going to get back to your hometown before you can finally rest.
On the night before you are to depart for Meril's tomb, you dine on fresh venison (hunted down by Svetlana in the morning) marinated in an eclectic mixture of vinegar, cloves, soy sauce, and mustard. As always, it is remarkable, and by the time you are done, you're as full as a tick. You chat for a while with Svetlana, mostly about your own day-to-day life, when suddenly she asks you, "So, I've been thinking, it might be a good time to give you your moonsilver tattoos. There could be curses in those ruins that warp your form if you step on the wrong tile without knowing some long-dead pass code, and I've been fretting about it all week since I feel like I'd cry if you got turned into a faceless mutant or something awful like that and it'd take me weeks to fix it. The tattoos would render you immune to such things. I understand if you're not ready to choose a caste, but give it some thought. I could have them on you in just an hour of work."
You consider her offer. The sheer stability they give your body sounds very interesting, but on the other hand, she's mentioned they're permanent; once a caste is affixed with the moonsilver, it's your caste forever.
[ ] Go for the tattoos. The benefits of specialization and having your body be utterly immune to shaping magics are worth it.
[ ] Hold off. No shame in being Casteless for now, and there's benefits for going wide with what you can do.
If you choose the first option, also vote here for the Caste. I will not include the Full Moon Caste simply because our physical attributes are our lowest overall and I have my limits as to how sub-optimal poor Blue Lantern Ember can be.
[ ] Choose the Changing Moon Caste.
Joining the ranks of Luna's Tricksters sounds perfect for you. Charisma (dealing with persuading people and instilling them with views either your own or otherwise, as well as territorial control and warfare) and Appearance (dealing with being incredibly attractive and/or incredibly terrifying, in addition to warfare and charms that help conceal your true nature) charms become cheaper and rolls made with those attributes can be boosted with their Excellencies. In addition, Changing Moons have inherent powers that allow them to make someone willing to hear their arguments or performances out, boost their ability to lie and sneak around so long as they aren't flaring anima, and ignore any negative ties towards us when making a social influence roll against one person once a day.
[ ] Choose the No Moon Caste.
The secrets revealed to the Nightwitches are many and varied. Intelligence (dealing with many fields such as crafting, healing, knowledge, dealing with spirits through bargaining or cursing them, turning other people into animals or beastmen, sorcery, and strategic warfare) and Perception (dealing with increasing your physical senses to where you can hear a pin drop in the world's loudest factory or be the first to strike with devastating force in a fight, being able to read other people's dispositions and desires as well as revealing their closely held secrets and weaknesses for your own exploitation, and being able to see immaterial spirits and then horribly savage them and eat them for their powers if you're into that) charms become cheaper and you get the Perception Excellency, allowing rolls made with that attribute to be boosted. In addition, you get the No Moon powers of being able to shroud yourself in shadows to make yourself harder to see and hit, sense places of magical power for miles, and convert your bonfire anima to either get a lot of motes for sorcery or roll a bunch of dice on a mental attribute roll for free.
"Well, I think the best thing for me would be to let Kash finish training me. I figure it'll get him out of your hair once we wrap up." Svetlana grunts and says, "Fine. Take up whatever arms you may need from my forge and lead him to the courtyard to do it. Don't let him wander anywhere else, though. I have no wish to talk with him and I definitely do not want him rummaging through my library. Anything else? Surely that's not all you want?"
You nod and say, "Well, I figure it'd be useful to get back into the saddle and get back to exercising my conversational skills. I've had no one but Kash and Inmost Light to talk for weeks, I feel like I'm getting rusty."
Svetlana taps her foot on the stone floor, thinking for a while, before she says, "I think I could bring you along on a few trips into Aluciere. I've got about half the city under my control, maybe you could help eke that out to sixty percent while you're here and learn a few things on the way."
You whistle, saying, "Damn, nice. What's that like, running half of an entire city?"
"Irritating, mostly. I run it through proxies, people I've bent to my will in various ways, but I step in when I want to apply a personal touch. I can't drink in any direct benefits like taxes and what not without exposing myself yet, but the city is on ill enough terms with the Immaculate Faith that shikari hate passing through thanks to a stint I did a hundred years ago as a street prophet. As a result, ancestor worship overtook the Faith as the dominant religion about ten years back and it's been slowly creeping along and swooping up more followers, and I've soured relationships with Lookshy by making fools out of their hired goons."
You note that down, wondering if you'll ever get to a point like this in Nexus. You say, "Well, I look forward to it. Can you tell me where Kash is?"
"Ground floor, third room on the left. You sure you don't want to learn how to fight from me?"
"Maybe some other time. I'll see you later, Svetlana." She nods and escorts you out of her room, saying with a rather desperate look on her face, "Hurry it up, would you? The longer he's here, the more time he's going to have to plot how to worm his way back into my graces."
You say, "I'll try my best?", not really sure if you could possibly make sparring go any faster. You bow to her, and then set off to find your other mentor.
You note instantly that several tiny creepers of smoke are emerging from the third door on the left, where nearby a Brass Legionnaire stands. The smell of burning cannabis hits your nostrils like a sledgehammer, and you sigh deeply. The automaton gives you a brief nod as you slide your robes an inch up so it cover your nose and mouth, and open the door. The fumes from within escape, tendrils spreading like an octopus's arms out into the hallway. You adjust your eyes to see through this miasma, and spot Kash sitting on the edge of the single cot within this otherwise unfurnished room, puffing away on a pipe. You say, "Gods, Kash, how long have you been doing this for?"
"Well, good morning to you too, Blue. I'd say ever since I woke up, but I'm kind of hazy on whether or not I even went to bed last night. Nothing else to do in here. How'd it get with Svetlana?"
You lower your impromptu face mask once you think the majority of the smoke has cleared and say, "Ah, pretty good. She's nice enough to me. Hates your guts, still."
The Sidereal sighs, and says, "Yeah, it figures. It didn't end that well between us."
"You, uh, wanna say why?"
He grimaces and says, "Not really, kid. I take it you didn't come by just to say hello to your good pal. You ready to get back on training?"
You nod and say, "If you're not too high?"
"Please, I've fought far more serious fights on better quality shit than this ditch weed." He rises and points to the war fan you picked up from the armory on your way here and tied to your rope belt, and says, "I see you've found a weapon of your own. Should make stuff more interesting now that I know you can strike me. On occasion."
You roll your eyes and say, "It all adds up, Kash. Come on, let's head outside. We'll see just how many blows I land today."
The next two weeks are akin to your experience traveling to Marita shortly after your Exaltation; events mix together, like salt dissolving in water, save for a few that bob to the surface on account of their significance. The only difference is that you feel as though this time, you've not lost your memories so much as pushed them to the back of your head, where instinct can unleash their imparted wisdom far faster than conscious effort ever could. You can think of two notable scenes as the gates of the Bastion are sealed by their mechanical defenders as you and Svetlana set out towards the tomb; a lesson Svetlana had taught to you during your third day within the city of Aluciere, and Siver Kash's departure just two days ago.
You walk with Svetlana, weaving through other pedestrians on the Dragonfly Bridge, which links the historic western part of Aluciere with its modern age descendant on the east side of the river. Only those of sacred lineage or purpose may cross into the old city, and so Svetlana and you have assumed the role of shrine tenders. She is in the form of an incredibly old River Province native, her skin now colored and textured like that of leather, her back hunched over with age and her hair as white as birch bark. Despite it being midday in summer, she wanders around in five layers of progressively more ornate robes that requires you to follow directly behind her, carrying the trailing fabric so that she doesn't stumble and fall. Your clothes are far less complex; all you have on for your disguise as an apprentice priestess is a simple linen robe died black, a high-waisted violet skirt worn over the robes, and black tabi worn under your sandals. You'd perhaps enjoy wearing women's clothing for the first time far more if it weren't so hot and if your inner Laughing Monster stylist wasn't hollering at you for wearing such impractical things; how can you perform a sweeping kick to shatter someone's femur in such confining garb, and how can you properly mock the enemy with a skirt preventing you from breathing in deeply enough to properly laugh at your foe's misery?
A single white spire known as the Palace of the Boar juts into the sky on this side of the river, dwarfing every other building in Aluciere by virtue of it being just as resilient as its namesake animal. That manse and the bridge are the only two First Age structures that remain intact in the city by virtue of their construction; the enchanted ivory of the Palace and the strange insect wing-like material of the Bridge enabled them to survive the meteor that destroyed Old Aluciere during the waning years of the Great Contagion, according to Svetlana. The city's many shrines are constructed in the ruins of the less fortunate buildings, humble wood-and-stone roofing patching holes in architecture made of a type of concrete whose recipe is long forgotten. Scavenger lords, identifiable by their proclivity towards openly wearing imperishable First Age trinkets, clamber into the temples of fortune spirits and line up by roadside reliquaries containing the bones of successful tomb raiders from centuries past to pray for good luck on their next expedition.
Your business here is simple; Svetlana, known as Gracious Laurel in this form, is attempting to lower the price of renovations for the temple-crypt of the Proper Mourner, the prophet who kindled Aluciere's gradual conversion to ancestor worship; you note several gaping holes in the ceiling of this otherwise lovely shrine, as well as some rot and mold in the wooden flooring. You sweeten up the construction company with your honeyed words and an excellent job done at the introductory coffee-drinking ceremony (for it is considered poor form to pray to the dead while tired) but their leader, a man who is as thin as a harp string and has an umber tone to his skin, seems remarkably resilient to your usual manipulations. Offers of magical blessings are met with polite redirection, suggestions that this would increase his prestige in the city are parried with practiced humility, and so on. You are at wits' end when Svetlana intervenes in a way that fills your head with wonder at the implications. She speaks in a voice that suggests its owner has inhaled far too much incense in their life, saying, "Well, sir, I can say that we cannot afford your price. However, I remind you that the Proper Mourner taught that proper deeds in life increases one fortune's in death tenfold. You may not reap much here, but when your children and grandchildren set up your shrine some time in the future, they will certainly donate more to Peaceful Stone the Charitable than Peaceful Stone the Miser."
Peaceful Stone furrows his brow, thinking, and then sighs, saying, "Alright, Laurel, you win. Five dirhams it is." He shakes Svetlana's wizened hand and after a few more minutes of talking, departs the Proper Mourner's shrine. You two are alone, so you can finally say, "Gods damn, this is incredible!"
Svetlana, grinning, says, "What's got you so excited, oh apprentice?"
"You engineered an entire culture here so you could exploit it later! That guy folded the second you brought up some shit you made up ages ago. I can imagine what else you could do with this."
"Well, I wouldn't say it's completely made up. Ancestor worship has its own benefits compared to bartering with spirits for blessings; ghosts know what it was like to be human, once. The fact that it frustrates and deters Immaculates is just a bonus."
You fidget, perhaps from indulging a bit too much in the coffee from earlier, and say, "Gods, I'm still thinking of what I could do with that. I could set up plots that pay off years in the future."
Your mentor laughs in a way that sounds like a toad croaking, and says, "Oh, why is it restricted to long term goals? As a Lunar, custom and tradition are your playthings, and mortals make plenty of them on their own. So long as you've got the right form and the right knowledge, subcultures and trends are one of the subtlest tools you can make use of."
"Fascinating. Er, tell me one thing, though?"
"What is it, Blue?"
"Whose bones are in that reliquary?" You point to the silver-and-glass box where a complete skeleton, allegedly that of the Proper Mourner, resides.
"Mine, in a way. Once that role was played out, I made a copy of the form of the Mourner and had him choke on a bit of mushroom. The first members of his cult did the rest once they found the body and I was long gone."
"Uh, was that copy alive?"
"Not really. Don't worry about it, Blue."
You worry about it for a long while after.
The sparring grounds are a mess by the time you are finished. Slashes and tears gouge the landscape as if some beast had clawed it apart, and perhaps that's apt in a way. Kash is currently tending to a split lip, caused by striking him with the blunt part of your folded war fan. Your arm is coated in enough bandaging that you'd think your arm was being prepared for mummification, but it's what's necessary to cover the many cuts you were unable to dodge. In addition, you think you've a few broken ribs, received as retribution from cracking a few of Kash's with an elbow strike. You are completely out of breath, and your anima is flaring, illuminating the courtyard with its silver light, but no so much that it reaches miles into the sky like your first day as a Lunar.
Kash spits out a bit of blood and walks over to pick up his sword where you had flung it, sticking straight up into the dirt like a fence post. He speaks for the first time after several long hours of continuous brawling, saying, "Gods, that blow you landed on my mouth would've shattered my incisors there if I weren't an Exalt. Weirdest thing about the Exaltation is that it's quite good at protecting your teeth. I've never seen any Chosen ever missing any teeth that they didn't already lack before they took their Second Breath. I guess the Incarnae are really into dentistry."
"Truly a mystery for the ages if the mighty Sidereals could not decipher why," you say, leaning on the nearby wall to rest for a while. Kash joins you, casting his sword Elsewhere as he relaxes with you. "How are you feeling, Blue?"
You say, "Could be better. I'm glad I figured out the form, finally. Interesting thing, seeing my arm trail off about five illusions of itself. I feel as though it'd look far more impressive if I had the other arm, still."
He scratches his neck, and says, "Yeah, still sorry about that."
"It's fine. I'll be getting a new one soon enough if things go right."
He exhales deeply, than says, "I hope that works out. Say, why did you disarm me? What was your logic there? You know by now that my fists are just as strong as that blade."
You say, "Yeah, I know. I wanted to practice it for when I get into a real fight. You're always holding back a little bit when you're unarmed, but when you wield that sword, I get a bad feeling. I just know if you wanted, you could easily cut me down with it."
He nods, saying, "You're perceptive. I'm a grand-master of Single Point Shining Into Void Style. The whole point of that school is to make a single cut at the right time in the right place to kill someone. Amateurs hack entire limbs off or bisect people, but all I would need to do is cut an inch into the head in just the right spot to stop someone from ever thinking again. However, it can only be performed with a slashing sword; if the stylist has no weapon, they can't perform any of its katas. Did you really learn all that with one glance?"
You are about to say, "Yes, of course!", with quite a bit of pride in yourself, but you stop. How exactly did you know that? You ransack your mind for an answer, and all you can say is, "I've seen it before? But, I haven't. It's odd, I'm not sure of myself."
Kash says, "Ah, sounds like you've been having memories from one of your Exaltation's previous bearers. It happens sometimes; most of the memories attached to it get wiped away when it detaches upon the death of its owner, but some still remain. It usually manifests as a sense of déjà vu or a gut instinct, but I've known a few people who get actual memories out of it. Did you ever have anything like that?"
You think, and say, "Only once. When you mentioned Ildathach, I had a vision of something that I think might have been it."
Kash whistles and says, "Neat. Maybe you should go there once you get tattooed? Could be something important there."
You make a note of it, and say, "So, I'm a master of Laughing Monster now."
"Aye, once you've got the form down, that's it. You'd be eligible to teach it now, but you wouldn't be running the dojo like a grand-master would."
You feel rather accomplished, but then a bit sad. "I guess that means you're done here."
"Yep. The furlough I took has almost ran out, in any case. I'll be back to Heaven shortly, and that will be a fucking mess after all of this. I cannot imagine what waits for me there."
"What's making you go back? Couldn't you just leave your job?"
"It'll be rough, but I've got a strong sense of duty and the perks of employment with the Bureau of Fate are far too much to give up for a stint as a ronin. Also, I figure I want to give as much as I get from those Bronze Faction assholes."
You think for a while, and say, "Well, is there some way of contacting you?"
He nods and says, "When you're in Nexus and you want to say something to me, drop off a letter to the Righteous Alliance of Nexus's Couriers and Deliverymen addressed to 6 Tyrian Way."
"I know the city like the back of my hand. There's no Tyrian Way in Nexus. I take it that the letter somehow winds up in your office desk in Heaven?"
He whistles, saying, "Gods damn, got it in one go. I've got an enchantment I've laid on their workplace, yes.
Your stomach grumbles, and Kash takes note. "Go get dinner, kid. Svetlana's a great cook. I'll see you some other time, and I look forward to it."
You bow deeply, and say, "Goodbye, Kash. Count on it."
By the time you've finished your evening meal, Kash's room in the Eighth Flame Bastion is empty, a fact which fills Svetlana with glee. She breaks out an amphora filled with Lookshyan wine, but you refuse when she offers you some. You spend a long time that night thinking about when exactly you're going to get back to your hometown before you can finally rest.
On the night before you are to depart for Meril's tomb, you dine on fresh venison (hunted down by Svetlana in the morning) marinated in an eclectic mixture of vinegar, cloves, soy sauce, and mustard. As always, it is remarkable, and by the time you are done, you're as full as a tick. You chat for a while with Svetlana, mostly about your own day-to-day life, when suddenly she asks you, "So, I've been thinking, it might be a good time to give you your moonsilver tattoos. There could be curses in those ruins that warp your form if you step on the wrong tile without knowing some long-dead pass code, and I've been fretting about it all week since I feel like I'd cry if you got turned into a faceless mutant or something awful like that and it'd take me weeks to fix it. The tattoos would render you immune to such things. I understand if you're not ready to choose a caste, but give it some thought. I could have them on you in just an hour of work."
You consider her offer. The sheer stability they give your body sounds very interesting, but on the other hand, she's mentioned they're permanent; once a caste is affixed with the moonsilver, it's your caste forever.
[ ] Go for the tattoos. The benefits of specialization and having your body be utterly immune to shaping magics are worth it.
[ ] Hold off. No shame in being Casteless for now, and there's benefits for going wide with what you can do.
If you choose the first option, also vote here for the Caste. I will not include the Full Moon Caste simply because our physical attributes are our lowest overall and I have my limits as to how sub-optimal poor Blue Lantern Ember can be.
[ ] Choose the Changing Moon Caste.
Joining the ranks of Luna's Tricksters sounds perfect for you. Charisma (dealing with persuading people and instilling them with views either your own or otherwise, as well as territorial control and warfare) and Appearance (dealing with being incredibly attractive and/or incredibly terrifying, in addition to warfare and charms that help conceal your true nature) charms become cheaper and rolls made with those attributes can be boosted with their Excellencies. In addition, Changing Moons have inherent powers that allow them to make someone willing to hear their arguments or performances out, boost their ability to lie and sneak around so long as they aren't flaring anima, and ignore any negative ties towards us when making a social influence roll against one person once a day.
[ ] Choose the No Moon Caste.
The secrets revealed to the Nightwitches are many and varied. Intelligence (dealing with many fields such as crafting, healing, knowledge, dealing with spirits through bargaining or cursing them, turning other people into animals or beastmen, sorcery, and strategic warfare) and Perception (dealing with increasing your physical senses to where you can hear a pin drop in the world's loudest factory or be the first to strike with devastating force in a fight, being able to read other people's dispositions and desires as well as revealing their closely held secrets and weaknesses for your own exploitation, and being able to see immaterial spirits and then horribly savage them and eat them for their powers if you're into that) charms become cheaper and you get the Perception Excellency, allowing rolls made with that attribute to be boosted. In addition, you get the No Moon powers of being able to shroud yourself in shadows to make yourself harder to see and hit, sense places of magical power for miles, and convert your bonfire anima to either get a lot of motes for sorcery or roll a bunch of dice on a mental attribute roll for free.
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- Location
- Virginia
[X] Go for the tattoos. The benefits of specialization and having your body be utterly immune to shaping magics are worth it.
[X] Choose the Changing Moon Caste. Joining the ranks of Luna's Tricksters sounds perfect for you. Charisma (dealing with persuading people and instilling them with views either your own or otherwise, as well as territorial control and warfare) and Appearance (dealing with being incredibly attractive and/or incredibly terrifying, in addition to warfare and charms that help conceal your true nature) charms become cheaper and rolls made with those attributes can be boosted with their Excellencies. In addition, Changing Moons have inherent powers that allow them to make someone willing to hear their arguments or performances out, boost their ability to lie and sneak around so long as they aren't flaring anima, and ignore any negative ties towards us when making a social influence roll against one person once a day.
[X] Choose the Changing Moon Caste. Joining the ranks of Luna's Tricksters sounds perfect for you. Charisma (dealing with persuading people and instilling them with views either your own or otherwise, as well as territorial control and warfare) and Appearance (dealing with being incredibly attractive and/or incredibly terrifying, in addition to warfare and charms that help conceal your true nature) charms become cheaper and rolls made with those attributes can be boosted with their Excellencies. In addition, Changing Moons have inherent powers that allow them to make someone willing to hear their arguments or performances out, boost their ability to lie and sneak around so long as they aren't flaring anima, and ignore any negative ties towards us when making a social influence roll against one person once a day.