Of Silver, Jade, and Steel (Exalted)
- Thread starter SunnySprings
- Start date
- Location
- United States
You are ignoring content by this member.
Show ignored content
Oh, didn't know you could tag stuff. Thank you, giodan.
To quote Exalted's 3e corebook:
It's an ovoid-shaped coin with milled edges usually cut into quarters and eighths, since its worth is far too great whole for common transactions. You're basically offering this guy two months and a half of income, as he probably gets paid about as much for the occasionally dangerous work of bouncing.
High Realm is the language of the nobility and merchant class (as well as their direct servants) of the Realm, a rather huge sprawling empire located on a massive (we're talking Russian Empire-sized here) island all the way west of humble Nexus. So you're appealing more to the crowd, who are all merchants from the Realm and all members of the Immaculate Faith, as it is the state religion of the Realm. I'll edit in "In High Realm, loudly." to make that more clear.
Anyway, here's a review of 3e that ought to be a decent enough primer on the setting.
Finally, I'll be working on figuring out some actual mechanics for this game because I will shamelessly admit I have been stalling on that. Might just use the main system from 3e, with a few tweaks to things like combat (because I'd be fucked if I do that straight up) and other fiddly systems.
To quote Exalted's 3e corebook:
It's an ovoid-shaped coin with milled edges usually cut into quarters and eighths, since its worth is far too great whole for common transactions. You're basically offering this guy two months and a half of income, as he probably gets paid about as much for the occasionally dangerous work of bouncing.
High Realm is the language of the nobility and merchant class (as well as their direct servants) of the Realm, a rather huge sprawling empire located on a massive (we're talking Russian Empire-sized here) island all the way west of humble Nexus. So you're appealing more to the crowd, who are all merchants from the Realm and all members of the Immaculate Faith, as it is the state religion of the Realm. I'll edit in "In High Realm, loudly." to make that more clear.
Anyway, here's a review of 3e that ought to be a decent enough primer on the setting.
Finally, I'll be working on figuring out some actual mechanics for this game because I will shamelessly admit I have been stalling on that. Might just use the main system from 3e, with a few tweaks to things like combat (because I'd be fucked if I do that straight up) and other fiddly systems.
Last edited:
[X] In High Realm, "Please sir, I am merely a lay monk of the Faith here, collecting alms for a most urgent cause."
Chapter 1.4
- Location
- United States
You are ignoring content by this member.
Show ignored content
OOC: We've got mechanics! Check out the second post on the first page for more.
[X] In High Realm, loudly, "Please sir, I am merely a lay monk of the Faith here, collecting alms for a most urgent cause."
You're immediately on the back foot, to your intense displeasure. You know this brute in front of you isn't going to be impressed by intimidation from a lanky twenty-something (or well, someone who looks like a twenty-something for now), and you'd be betting on whether or not this man is actually dumb enough to be loyal to someone richer than him in Nexus if you tried to bribe him. You know that you've got one second to figure out something before this man lifts you up with his arms (that you nervously note have muscles bigger than your head), hoists you out of this establishment, and gives you a beating you'll remember until the day you die. You dig through every corner of your brain to find some way out of this, your mind stretching out half a second into half an hour, and eventually pull out a nice nugget of wisdom from old Hath. "If you can't play someone, play the crowd."
You ready your best acting skills and all your force of will, and then speak up in High Realm in a meek voice that will carry to all of the patrons here. "Please sir, I am merely a lay monk of the Faith here, collecting alms for a most urgent cause."
The patricians here immediately change their expressions immediately. While you can tell a few aren't exactly devout themselves and still wear their irritation with you plainly on their face for the horrific crime of ruining their view of the finely carved ebony door you just came through, some of the expressions of disgust on the others change into understanding, with a slight hint of regret for leaping to conclusions. One of them, an older man at a corner table dressed in fine black silk robes, light from the chandelier above beaming off his completely bald head and a beard reaching to the middle of his chest, says in fluent Riverspeak, "Let the young monks speak. We must honor those who spread the word of the Dragons, especially in a place such as Nexus."
The bouncer halts advancing towards you, and looks at the publican manning the bar, a stout fellow with cropped black hair wearing formal but relatively plain work-wear (his clothes are of higher quality than you could afford with a year's pay, but comes off as downright humble compared to what the folks in here are wearing). He shrugs, not bothering to look up from the wine glass he is wiping down, and says in Riverspeak, "They can come in for now. But they'd better make it quick. I'd throw out any other solicitors, but I feel like tossing these ones out would hurt my karma."
You respond, "Thank you, sir. And thank you," you incline your hand towards the gullible fellow in the back who advocated for you, "for your kindness to lowly mendicants such as us."
He gives you a polite smile, and takes a sip from his wine-glass, awaiting your word. If you didn't have a role to play, you'd be dying laughing. What a rube!
You clear your throat and continue to speak in High Realm, "Ah, esteemed patricians, it pains me to say this but I have a request for donations that unfortunately was not able to be fulfilled by our begging elsewhere. The citizens of Nexus have so little love for our religion. Many choose avarice and greed over the building of solid community foundations, and are misled by the honeyed lies of indolent spirits who reject the proper order of our way in favor of glutting themselves on prayer and devotion that is not put back into maintaining their godly domains. The streets crack, the fish of the canal die out, and yet still they extort and extort."
You stop a minute to take a breath and are surprised by how much conviction you can put into this. You're sweating like crazy, beads of it dripping into your eyes, but it actually seems to help you out by selling how fired up you are about the Faith. Perhaps if there were any money in it, you'd have stayed at the shrine, shaved your head, and became a priest. But, then again, why lay on a straw mat in a stone cell eating rice and lentils every day when you can do stuff like what you're doing now and one day make enough money to sleep on a fine feathered mattress and eat the finest pork? You continue on with your speech, happy that your energy is selling the crowd. Most are leaning in, attentive, while the rest have grouchily returned to pecking at their roast duck with their forks.
"We were able to convince one such spirit to honor the Immaculate Faith, a disease spirit by the name of Vauth the Pustuled. For years he kept to our agreement, taking in prayer only on his Feast Day and using it to only apportion his poxes as decreed by the will of the Heavenly Ministry of the Violet Bier of Sorrows, whose members determine the Endings of all things. But, the Faith has waned here, and so his Feast Day has provided more meager returns each year. Now he complains that he has not enough to do his duties, and threatens to extort prayer via spreading a pox unto the districts of this city. We wish to collect funds to donate in an emergency ritual to this god and bring him back into the fold temporarily until our monks who are gifted with the Dragon's can return from their duties elsewhere and deal with this matter more permanently."
The man who interceded on your behalf in the beginning speaks up, in a mournful voice. "I had no idea things here were so bad in Nexus. This truly is a wicked place, devoid of virtue." He rises from his table, now finished with his meal, and reaches a shaking arthritic hand into his pockets to draw out a fold of Realm paper money and walks over to you with it, leaning on an elegantly carved cane in his other hand as he does. He hands the cash to you, and when you count it you can almost barely contain your glee. Twenty fucking koku! This idiot gave you over a year's worth of income! You'd burst out laughing if it wouldn't spoil the game. He says, "Use this on your problem with the spirit or anything else you can think of. It's the least I can do."
Instead, you graciously thank him. "You have the wisdom of Mela, sir." Some of the other patricians rise up to mirror their more pious peer. You gently toss the wad of cash into your sack and hand it over to Yazu, who has been for his own part putting on an affectation that seems to be an attempt at piety but comes off more like that of an emotionless statue. He holds it out, giving thanks in his own Riverspeak, which you mirror in High Realm. Even the publican deigns to toss a single dinar into your loot.
By the time you are done, you say in High Realm, "Ten thousand thanks to you all. May you all continue to be as virtuous as you are now, for with more correct action such as this, your souls are all but assured to be gifted with a body bearing the Blood of the Dragons in your next life." You bow about as deeply as you can without snapping your spine, and calmly walk out the door. The bouncer follows to shut it behind you, grunting, "Don't come back," as you two leave with your spoils.
You grab Yazu's mouth to stifle him before he gives out the greatest shout of triumph that he can. "Shhhh. Not here. Let's put a block between that place and get these robes off first."
You walk for a while, feeling as if your body is about to float right out of your boots, before you finally come to an empty enough alley where you can toss off your disguise. You hurl the robes to the ground, and right as you exit, Yazu tackles into you, giving you a fierce bear hug. You return it as you both laugh your heads off and shout wordless howls into the evening sky, celebrating your biggest take ever. Yazu says, "Fuck dude, let's count it here."
You nod, opening the sack. By the time you tally every bit of paper and coin, you estimate you've come away with a haul worth about fifty-two dinars. You say the amount to Yazu, whose knees nearly give way when you say it. "Gods, you're a fucking legend. You are a fucking legend." He repeats this about ten more times.
You nod, unbelievably proud of yourself, and hand three of the silver coins off to him. "I'm keeping the rest until tomorrow. We take it to back to old man Hath, he takes his share and the Golden Crow Society's share, and we get the rest. Take these two as collateral, plus a little extra for being such a good bag-holder."
Yazu gives you a half-hearted punch to your shoulder, grinning so wide you think the smile'd split his face in half if it went any wider. "Don't get a swelled ego. You're in this business because I introduced you to Hath. This all stems back to me."
"Yeah, sure. You take care. I'm gonna split off and head back home." You fold the robes into the sack with the money, carefully arranging things so the coinage doesn't jingle so much, and take a big swig from your water flask. You take the rest of it and pour it into your hands to wash off the makeup you applied, and to wipe away the sweat that was pouring down your head before. Yazu waves you off and heads off towards his own home near the docks.
You feel like you're ten feet tall as you walk towards your apartment at Sentinel's Hill. The sun has set by the time you get to the familiar stretch of brick and mortar that you live in, and all you can think about is how you could probably spin this into getting a higher position. Maybe you could get a job as a treasurer or something in the gang. You shiver with anticipation at all the possibilities as you slide your way past the wooden door into your room.
You've not got much in this apartment you're renting. A wooden bed with a straw mattress and matching pillow and a decent linen blanket. A chest for your clothing and valuables with a sturdy enough lock, gifted to you by Hath for your fifteenth birthday. A small shrine for when you are motivated enough for prayer on a Feast Day, although that happens rarely these days. A small fireplace and stove underneath the window on the opposite side of the room, a pantry nearby to store food in, and a small chair and table to eat on.
You toss the bag into the chest and immediately lock it, taking the key with you and shoving it under your pillow, along with your dagger. You cannot believe your fortune. You have no idea what you could spend the take you're going to get on. You've always been saving and saving up, but never buying anything but the essentials for life and work. You fall asleep after a quick meal of rice wondering on what exactly it is you want.
You are waken up by a small shove on your shoulder. It's the dead of night, and before you even attempt to make out who it is sitting on your chair near your bed, you reach for your knife. Your unwanted guest replies in familiar Riverspeak, "Oh, apologies. I already took that. Here, let me shed some light on the situation."
You see a spark hit the kindling of the fireplace, and in the burgeoning light, you can make out the old man in the black silk robes who made a case for you at the Swan and Hart Inn. He's holding your knife in his hands, examining it. "Good steel. Not too shabby balancing. Is this a gift, perhaps?"
You glare murderously at him, and say, "What, you have a sudden change of heart about all the money you gave? How the hell did you even find me?"
The old man laughs. "What, am I not as stupid as you thought? I could read you like a book back in there. You thought you were so very clever and I was so very stupid. Assumptions are lethal in this line of work, boy."
You curse, and lift yourself up from bed, but he points your dagger back at you and motions for you to stay seated. You stop moving, uneasy by how confident and vigorous he suddenly seems. Nothing at all like the decrepit old man from before. His cane is nowhere in sight. You say, "You were also in disguise, weren't you?"
Your "guest" smiles, and his facial features begin to shift like water. His beard goes from the white it was before and turns into a deep black, and then then shrinks down into a well-kept goatee. Where once was nothing on his head is now short but wavy hair. He looks to be in his thirties now, and looks at you with eyes colored as black as the water in the canals. You startle as his face changes, moving backwards into your bed, trying to put distance between you and him.
"You- You're-"
"Dragon-blooded, yes. You made yet another bad call assuming that I was as mortal as you. You think every one of us constantly goes around dressed in a gaudy panoply of jade, or at least has a daiklave hanging at their side? Such arrogance, and you weren't even spoiled from birth like half the brats in the Great Houses are." He looks annoyed with you, as if he were a professor at the university scolding you for poor marks on an examination.
You sputter, "Alright, you got the drop on me. Take the money and go. Take anything."
"You misunderstand my intentions. What you took is a pittance compared to what I make in a year from my stipend alone. No, no, believe me when I say I am actually impressed with you, despite your shortcomings."
"What?" You're baffled, but relax a bit, moving to sit on the edge of your bed. He flips your dagger over, and extends it, hilt first, towards you. You gingerly take it, then drop it aside onto the bed. You know that he could likely just kill you easily with his bare hands, dagger or not.
"I'm serious. It takes guts to try a stunt like what you pulled, and to do so well at your age. You probably could have made it without my help, and I loved that speech you gave. You almost had real conviction in it. That twenty koku I gave you? Consider it a starting offer."
"A starting offer for what?"
"Well, another thing that gave you away, albeit this time it was something out of your control entirely, was your friend. I've been skulking around the city for a while now, and I noted that your partner in crime was a part of an organization I want to make inroads into during my investigations. I want you to be my inside man. You've got real talent and I think you and I could benefit from one another, lad."
You feel even more confused. At the very least, you're not completely scared shitless anymore. "So, what, you want a spy in the Golden Crow Society? What for?"
The man slicks his hair back and says, "I've got dealings in quite a few less-than-legal organizations. My House finds the information I rake in from my connections quite useful to its business interests. Who is stealing what, what is selling on the black market and what is not, who is setting up an ambush for traders and where, and so on. I'd be lying if I said I didn't take a few cuts from these people here and there, too. I've not read managed to break into your gang, however, and I intend to correct that."
"I'm not even fucking eighteen yet, man. Why not anybody else?"
He smiles, and says, "I see in you a great opportunity for growth. Sure, I could easily find someone who is a bit older, a bit more experienced, but they'll not get anywhere higher, and I find it difficult to turn more established members to my side. You work with me, and I'll get you into the top ranks, and all it will cost is a few bits of info here and there when I ask it of you. You could be rich."
You feel so overwhelmed. What in the Hell have you got yourself into? You think for a while, sitting at the side of the bed while the man looks at you expectantly. The only sound is the crackle of the fireplace and the hooting of an owl from somewhere distant outside. You think it over for a while and decide:
[ ] You'll do it. Isn't this what you always wanted? A chance to finally get rich. And it isn't like any of your friends are getting hurt by this.
[ ] Tell him that you won't speak of this, but he needs to find someone else. You can't do this. It's selling out all the goodwill Yazu and Hath gave you.
[ ] Agree to do it, because you're going to stab this asshole in the back so hard.
[X] In High Realm, loudly, "Please sir, I am merely a lay monk of the Faith here, collecting alms for a most urgent cause."
You're immediately on the back foot, to your intense displeasure. You know this brute in front of you isn't going to be impressed by intimidation from a lanky twenty-something (or well, someone who looks like a twenty-something for now), and you'd be betting on whether or not this man is actually dumb enough to be loyal to someone richer than him in Nexus if you tried to bribe him. You know that you've got one second to figure out something before this man lifts you up with his arms (that you nervously note have muscles bigger than your head), hoists you out of this establishment, and gives you a beating you'll remember until the day you die. You dig through every corner of your brain to find some way out of this, your mind stretching out half a second into half an hour, and eventually pull out a nice nugget of wisdom from old Hath. "If you can't play someone, play the crowd."
You ready your best acting skills and all your force of will, and then speak up in High Realm in a meek voice that will carry to all of the patrons here. "Please sir, I am merely a lay monk of the Faith here, collecting alms for a most urgent cause."
The patricians here immediately change their expressions immediately. While you can tell a few aren't exactly devout themselves and still wear their irritation with you plainly on their face for the horrific crime of ruining their view of the finely carved ebony door you just came through, some of the expressions of disgust on the others change into understanding, with a slight hint of regret for leaping to conclusions. One of them, an older man at a corner table dressed in fine black silk robes, light from the chandelier above beaming off his completely bald head and a beard reaching to the middle of his chest, says in fluent Riverspeak, "Let the young monks speak. We must honor those who spread the word of the Dragons, especially in a place such as Nexus."
The bouncer halts advancing towards you, and looks at the publican manning the bar, a stout fellow with cropped black hair wearing formal but relatively plain work-wear (his clothes are of higher quality than you could afford with a year's pay, but comes off as downright humble compared to what the folks in here are wearing). He shrugs, not bothering to look up from the wine glass he is wiping down, and says in Riverspeak, "They can come in for now. But they'd better make it quick. I'd throw out any other solicitors, but I feel like tossing these ones out would hurt my karma."
You respond, "Thank you, sir. And thank you," you incline your hand towards the gullible fellow in the back who advocated for you, "for your kindness to lowly mendicants such as us."
He gives you a polite smile, and takes a sip from his wine-glass, awaiting your word. If you didn't have a role to play, you'd be dying laughing. What a rube!
You clear your throat and continue to speak in High Realm, "Ah, esteemed patricians, it pains me to say this but I have a request for donations that unfortunately was not able to be fulfilled by our begging elsewhere. The citizens of Nexus have so little love for our religion. Many choose avarice and greed over the building of solid community foundations, and are misled by the honeyed lies of indolent spirits who reject the proper order of our way in favor of glutting themselves on prayer and devotion that is not put back into maintaining their godly domains. The streets crack, the fish of the canal die out, and yet still they extort and extort."
You stop a minute to take a breath and are surprised by how much conviction you can put into this. You're sweating like crazy, beads of it dripping into your eyes, but it actually seems to help you out by selling how fired up you are about the Faith. Perhaps if there were any money in it, you'd have stayed at the shrine, shaved your head, and became a priest. But, then again, why lay on a straw mat in a stone cell eating rice and lentils every day when you can do stuff like what you're doing now and one day make enough money to sleep on a fine feathered mattress and eat the finest pork? You continue on with your speech, happy that your energy is selling the crowd. Most are leaning in, attentive, while the rest have grouchily returned to pecking at their roast duck with their forks.
"We were able to convince one such spirit to honor the Immaculate Faith, a disease spirit by the name of Vauth the Pustuled. For years he kept to our agreement, taking in prayer only on his Feast Day and using it to only apportion his poxes as decreed by the will of the Heavenly Ministry of the Violet Bier of Sorrows, whose members determine the Endings of all things. But, the Faith has waned here, and so his Feast Day has provided more meager returns each year. Now he complains that he has not enough to do his duties, and threatens to extort prayer via spreading a pox unto the districts of this city. We wish to collect funds to donate in an emergency ritual to this god and bring him back into the fold temporarily until our monks who are gifted with the Dragon's can return from their duties elsewhere and deal with this matter more permanently."
The man who interceded on your behalf in the beginning speaks up, in a mournful voice. "I had no idea things here were so bad in Nexus. This truly is a wicked place, devoid of virtue." He rises from his table, now finished with his meal, and reaches a shaking arthritic hand into his pockets to draw out a fold of Realm paper money and walks over to you with it, leaning on an elegantly carved cane in his other hand as he does. He hands the cash to you, and when you count it you can almost barely contain your glee. Twenty fucking koku! This idiot gave you over a year's worth of income! You'd burst out laughing if it wouldn't spoil the game. He says, "Use this on your problem with the spirit or anything else you can think of. It's the least I can do."
Instead, you graciously thank him. "You have the wisdom of Mela, sir." Some of the other patricians rise up to mirror their more pious peer. You gently toss the wad of cash into your sack and hand it over to Yazu, who has been for his own part putting on an affectation that seems to be an attempt at piety but comes off more like that of an emotionless statue. He holds it out, giving thanks in his own Riverspeak, which you mirror in High Realm. Even the publican deigns to toss a single dinar into your loot.
By the time you are done, you say in High Realm, "Ten thousand thanks to you all. May you all continue to be as virtuous as you are now, for with more correct action such as this, your souls are all but assured to be gifted with a body bearing the Blood of the Dragons in your next life." You bow about as deeply as you can without snapping your spine, and calmly walk out the door. The bouncer follows to shut it behind you, grunting, "Don't come back," as you two leave with your spoils.
You grab Yazu's mouth to stifle him before he gives out the greatest shout of triumph that he can. "Shhhh. Not here. Let's put a block between that place and get these robes off first."
You walk for a while, feeling as if your body is about to float right out of your boots, before you finally come to an empty enough alley where you can toss off your disguise. You hurl the robes to the ground, and right as you exit, Yazu tackles into you, giving you a fierce bear hug. You return it as you both laugh your heads off and shout wordless howls into the evening sky, celebrating your biggest take ever. Yazu says, "Fuck dude, let's count it here."
You nod, opening the sack. By the time you tally every bit of paper and coin, you estimate you've come away with a haul worth about fifty-two dinars. You say the amount to Yazu, whose knees nearly give way when you say it. "Gods, you're a fucking legend. You are a fucking legend." He repeats this about ten more times.
You nod, unbelievably proud of yourself, and hand three of the silver coins off to him. "I'm keeping the rest until tomorrow. We take it to back to old man Hath, he takes his share and the Golden Crow Society's share, and we get the rest. Take these two as collateral, plus a little extra for being such a good bag-holder."
Yazu gives you a half-hearted punch to your shoulder, grinning so wide you think the smile'd split his face in half if it went any wider. "Don't get a swelled ego. You're in this business because I introduced you to Hath. This all stems back to me."
"Yeah, sure. You take care. I'm gonna split off and head back home." You fold the robes into the sack with the money, carefully arranging things so the coinage doesn't jingle so much, and take a big swig from your water flask. You take the rest of it and pour it into your hands to wash off the makeup you applied, and to wipe away the sweat that was pouring down your head before. Yazu waves you off and heads off towards his own home near the docks.
You feel like you're ten feet tall as you walk towards your apartment at Sentinel's Hill. The sun has set by the time you get to the familiar stretch of brick and mortar that you live in, and all you can think about is how you could probably spin this into getting a higher position. Maybe you could get a job as a treasurer or something in the gang. You shiver with anticipation at all the possibilities as you slide your way past the wooden door into your room.
You've not got much in this apartment you're renting. A wooden bed with a straw mattress and matching pillow and a decent linen blanket. A chest for your clothing and valuables with a sturdy enough lock, gifted to you by Hath for your fifteenth birthday. A small shrine for when you are motivated enough for prayer on a Feast Day, although that happens rarely these days. A small fireplace and stove underneath the window on the opposite side of the room, a pantry nearby to store food in, and a small chair and table to eat on.
You toss the bag into the chest and immediately lock it, taking the key with you and shoving it under your pillow, along with your dagger. You cannot believe your fortune. You have no idea what you could spend the take you're going to get on. You've always been saving and saving up, but never buying anything but the essentials for life and work. You fall asleep after a quick meal of rice wondering on what exactly it is you want.
You are waken up by a small shove on your shoulder. It's the dead of night, and before you even attempt to make out who it is sitting on your chair near your bed, you reach for your knife. Your unwanted guest replies in familiar Riverspeak, "Oh, apologies. I already took that. Here, let me shed some light on the situation."
You see a spark hit the kindling of the fireplace, and in the burgeoning light, you can make out the old man in the black silk robes who made a case for you at the Swan and Hart Inn. He's holding your knife in his hands, examining it. "Good steel. Not too shabby balancing. Is this a gift, perhaps?"
You glare murderously at him, and say, "What, you have a sudden change of heart about all the money you gave? How the hell did you even find me?"
The old man laughs. "What, am I not as stupid as you thought? I could read you like a book back in there. You thought you were so very clever and I was so very stupid. Assumptions are lethal in this line of work, boy."
You curse, and lift yourself up from bed, but he points your dagger back at you and motions for you to stay seated. You stop moving, uneasy by how confident and vigorous he suddenly seems. Nothing at all like the decrepit old man from before. His cane is nowhere in sight. You say, "You were also in disguise, weren't you?"
Your "guest" smiles, and his facial features begin to shift like water. His beard goes from the white it was before and turns into a deep black, and then then shrinks down into a well-kept goatee. Where once was nothing on his head is now short but wavy hair. He looks to be in his thirties now, and looks at you with eyes colored as black as the water in the canals. You startle as his face changes, moving backwards into your bed, trying to put distance between you and him.
"You- You're-"
"Dragon-blooded, yes. You made yet another bad call assuming that I was as mortal as you. You think every one of us constantly goes around dressed in a gaudy panoply of jade, or at least has a daiklave hanging at their side? Such arrogance, and you weren't even spoiled from birth like half the brats in the Great Houses are." He looks annoyed with you, as if he were a professor at the university scolding you for poor marks on an examination.
You sputter, "Alright, you got the drop on me. Take the money and go. Take anything."
"You misunderstand my intentions. What you took is a pittance compared to what I make in a year from my stipend alone. No, no, believe me when I say I am actually impressed with you, despite your shortcomings."
"What?" You're baffled, but relax a bit, moving to sit on the edge of your bed. He flips your dagger over, and extends it, hilt first, towards you. You gingerly take it, then drop it aside onto the bed. You know that he could likely just kill you easily with his bare hands, dagger or not.
"I'm serious. It takes guts to try a stunt like what you pulled, and to do so well at your age. You probably could have made it without my help, and I loved that speech you gave. You almost had real conviction in it. That twenty koku I gave you? Consider it a starting offer."
"A starting offer for what?"
"Well, another thing that gave you away, albeit this time it was something out of your control entirely, was your friend. I've been skulking around the city for a while now, and I noted that your partner in crime was a part of an organization I want to make inroads into during my investigations. I want you to be my inside man. You've got real talent and I think you and I could benefit from one another, lad."
You feel even more confused. At the very least, you're not completely scared shitless anymore. "So, what, you want a spy in the Golden Crow Society? What for?"
The man slicks his hair back and says, "I've got dealings in quite a few less-than-legal organizations. My House finds the information I rake in from my connections quite useful to its business interests. Who is stealing what, what is selling on the black market and what is not, who is setting up an ambush for traders and where, and so on. I'd be lying if I said I didn't take a few cuts from these people here and there, too. I've not read managed to break into your gang, however, and I intend to correct that."
"I'm not even fucking eighteen yet, man. Why not anybody else?"
He smiles, and says, "I see in you a great opportunity for growth. Sure, I could easily find someone who is a bit older, a bit more experienced, but they'll not get anywhere higher, and I find it difficult to turn more established members to my side. You work with me, and I'll get you into the top ranks, and all it will cost is a few bits of info here and there when I ask it of you. You could be rich."
You feel so overwhelmed. What in the Hell have you got yourself into? You think for a while, sitting at the side of the bed while the man looks at you expectantly. The only sound is the crackle of the fireplace and the hooting of an owl from somewhere distant outside. You think it over for a while and decide:
[ ] You'll do it. Isn't this what you always wanted? A chance to finally get rich. And it isn't like any of your friends are getting hurt by this.
[ ] Tell him that you won't speak of this, but he needs to find someone else. You can't do this. It's selling out all the goodwill Yazu and Hath gave you.
[ ] Agree to do it, because you're going to stab this asshole in the back so hard.
Last edited:
shulkerbox
free gender radicals (ze/hir)
- Location
- not here
[X] You'll do it. Isn't this what you always wanted? A chance to finally get rich. And it isn't like any of your friends are getting hurt by this.
- Location
- St. Petersburg
And here's where I knew he'd be back to wring his money's worth out of us.
Not that I mind.
[x] You'll do it. Isn't this what you always wanted? A chance to finally get rich. And it isn't like any of your friends are getting hurt by this.
[x] You'll do it. Isn't this what you always wanted? A chance to finally get rich. And it isn't like any of your friends are getting hurt by this.
[X] Agree to do it, because you're going to stab this asshole in the back so hard.
Come on, I'm not dumb enough to say "no" to someone who would kill Blue Ember to keep his mouth shut, but there's nothing lower than a rat.
Come on, I'm not dumb enough to say "no" to someone who would kill Blue Ember to keep his mouth shut, but there's nothing lower than a rat.
shulkerbox
free gender radicals (ze/hir)
- Location
- not here
[X] Agree to do it, because you're going to stab this asshole in the back so hard.
actuaaally let's try this one
(we're going to get our ass kicked)
actuaaally let's try this one
(we're going to get our ass kicked)
Getting your ass kicked while trying to do something spectacularly foolhardy is one of the top ways of earning a Solar Exaltation!
- Location
- United States
You are ignoring content by this member.
Show ignored content
Really you can get a lot of different kinds of Exaltations getting your ass kicked.
Chapter 1.5
- Location
- United States
You are ignoring content by this member.
Show ignored content
OOC: A tie again! This time, the tie-breaker was my roommate, who is too lazy to register here.
[x] You'll do it. Isn't this what you always wanted? A chance to finally get rich. And it isn't like any of your friends are getting hurt by this.
It takes you a while to decide, but you know in the end that this is the only way you're assured to rise in the ranks of your cartel. If you reject this offer, it could take you decades to rise, decades of doing grunt work and hoping you don't get a knife between your ribs for it. With the aid of a Dragon-blood? You could get into the cushy managerial positions before you hit twenty-two. You look up at the Dynast, "Fine, I'll work with you. Any info you want, you've got."
He claps his hands together, smiling. "Wonderful. Now, for the matter of the future. I take it tomorrow you will be taking what you took to your superior so they may take their share of your earnings, correct?"
You nod. "Yes. Twenty percent goes to him from any income we make from our activities. He kicks up about half of that to the boss, and the boss gives a certain amount of his funds to the overall leader of the Golden Crow Society. Of course, they'll take more in rough times if they need it. Funding for bribes, lawyers, maybe even the occasional assassination if it's really needed. Most of our work here in Nexus is in racketeering and rigging construction bids in the city."
"Standard. Your boss, who I take is an older gentleman by the name of Hath, is a bit unorthodox in his use of children, however. I've observed some as young as eight doing less dangerous work, handing messages off to other members of your gang, with the older ones mostly doing petty thievery in the markets. The grown-ups usually get assigned to the more usual duties of your gang. Why is that?"
"Kids aren't as likely to get killed doing that line of work, and even if they get unlucky and have a denunciation sent out for them, they never get the death sentence, only exile. If that happens, the kids just get shuffled off to another city we have operations in. I've been in for about five years and while I've taken a few beatings, I've never had anything worse than that. But now that I'm getting older, well, shit's getting more dangerous for me. First time I had a knife drawn on me was a month after my sixteenth birthday. Part of why I'm taking your crazy offer."
Your new benefactor nods as he takes this in, readjusting himself on your chair and leaning him. He shows some measure of sympathy to you on his face, but you're not reassured by it considering that this noble prick was probably ready to snap your neck if you said no. "Self-preservation's a good instinct. Rest assured, it's in my interest to get you in a better place. Can't get what I need from a street enforcer."
You breathe in deeply and say, "Alright. Is there anything special I need to do?"
"Yes. Take as much credit as you can for this. After all, all your friend did was hold the bag in there. Make him a subordinate of yours if you wish once you progress if it suits you, it makes no difference to me, but this is your chance to get noticed. Take it as far as you can. I'll be contacting you shortly after I conduct some business of my own. You know how to read?"
"Yes. Learned it from my teachers at the shrine."
"Good. There's a flower seller in Cinnabar District on Sparrow's Lane, "Long's Flowers", and it has a sign with a painting of a lily. Owner's one of mine. Inside, at the corner on the northwest side, there's always a pot of snapdragons. Check under it on the second and fifth day of every week after noon if you can. If I've need of you, there will be a note underneath it. Also, please buy something every so often."
"Why? Don't pay your folks enough?"
"Ha ha. No." He looks slightly irritated with you as he waves his hand around your room. "You need to decorate your home. I've seen deserts with more interesting features to look at in them."
With that, he stands up, and makes to leave. "Sleep in today. You've earned it."
You interrupt him before he gets to the door. "You got a name?"
He pauses, and says, "Can't trust you with the real one. "Gardener" will do for now. Yours?"
"Blue's fine."
"Farewell then, Blue," and reaches for your door handle. He unlocks it (you briefly wonder if he locked it after he came in to be careful and you just didn't hear it like you didn't feel him lifting your pillow up for your knife, or if he somehow got through it without needing to pick it. Either possibility is unnerving), and steps out in the night, and he's gone just as suddenly as he came.
You slump back into your bed, tossing the dagger aside onto the ground. You can't believe what the fuck just happened. You can't and won't trust him worth a damn, but this could be big. At the very least, it can't any worse than the things you normally get up to. You get back underneath the covers and despite everything, sleep comes to you easily.
You awaken, and almost immediately rise up to check that you didn't just dream everything up. Your knife's still where you dropped it. Your fireplace still has warm embers. When you check the chest, the bag with the money, with the clip of twenty koku that the old man- no, Gardener gave you, is still there. You lie down on the floor for a moment and breathe in deeply, before saying the only thing you could possibly say in such a situation: "Holy fuck."
After a moment, you've got your morning routine going. You've set a pot of canal water to boil (the fishwives around here tell you you should do it three times, once to cook the parasites out, once to burn all the piss out of it, and once to show the gods you care, but you've found once over a long time is enough), and are waiting for that to finish so you can toss on a bit of salted chicken. You find, however, that you have a nagging feeling at the back of your mind, a bit of your former religious impulses coming back to the forefront after your encounter with one of the Princes of the Earth. When the water has finished boiling long enough, you take the time to meditate as you once used to.
You find yourself dwelling this morning on the nature of the Immaculate Dragon of Water, Danaa'd. You suppose you had always liked her the best, finding her nature suiting yours the most; from the legends you were told while just a child, she was always the most self-sufficient of the bunch. In her youth, she cast away a birth name more suited to a man and lived as she willed without a second thought. When the Anathema were in power, she could not be tempted by their offerings, rejecting them in favor of the virtue of her own accomplishments and earnings. When the Anathema were cast down by their former Dragon-blooded slaves, she was the one who took the souls of the Solar Anathema and dove to the deepest part of the world to cast them down forever into the Underworld.
You feel an odd bit of shame at the thought of not having achieved your own self-sufficiency. You've been dependent since birth, you feel. On the hospitality of the monks, until you left their shrine at age twelve. Then you were subordinate to Yazu and Hath. And now, to this Dragon-blooded. While you suppose no one can truly be an island unto themselves, you feel disappointed that you're still stuck working at the behest of others.
When you finish your brief meditation, the water in your pot's gone cold. You heat up your chicken, and have it with a side of lentils and chickpeas. You eat in silence, and then resolve to continue on with your life. At the very least, you're not going to be more self-sufficient if you're dead from not giving Hath his due.
You step out into Nexus proper, carrying your money with you in a thick bag secured tightly to your back. You're wise enough to dodge most of the thieves, you think, but it's a tense few hours as you walk towards Hath's establishment on the north end of Nexus District. At the very least, today is cooler than yesterday, thanks to the clouds covering all of the sky. You hope it doesn't rain as you come with site of the Hornet.
The Hornet looms over you, three stories tall, gaudily striped in yellow on the top and ground floor and painted a deep black in the middle and capped with an irimoya roof that comes to a sharp point. On the balconies reside only two patrons, blissfully smoking marijuana as they look towards the docks. At night, the gamblers come in force from the harbor, but for now, the only ones there are friends and colleagues of the old man. The bouncer, a local man that looks as if what you might get if you turned a toad into a human, waves at you and says, "Hey, Blue, how goes it?"
"Good so far, Mr. Hao. Hath in?"
Mr. Hao says, "Yup. In his office."
You nod and walk forward, as Mr. Hao graciously raises up the metal-capped staff he's barring the door, and push through the door. All of the tables, both for dining and for dice, are empty. A few of Hath's enforcers crowd around the bar, taking a break and drinking from flasks filled with beer while taking bites of skewers laden with pepper and steak. Some of them say hello as you pass by and head up the stairs to the third floor, where the high-rollers play their games (or would, if the establishment were open to the general public at this hour). You go towards the paper doors, emblazoned with a quite-good painting of a swarm of (obviously enough) hornets, flying about and preying upon honey bees, and slide them to the side.
Hath sits at his desk, looking down on a list of documents. He is wearing his eye-patch today (he says that he only bothers with a glass eye on certain occasions, as he finds the presence of one in his empty left socket uncomfortable), and is wearing a simple black haori over his robes. He looks up, and smiles in the familiar goofy fashion you know him for. You find it so odd that a person like him would look like a mummer's caricature of a doddering old fool, with a face as round as an orange, expressive eyes that exaggerate his every emotion, and a tomato-like nose. After all, you know how he lost that eye; it was gouged out while he was strangling the person who formerly held his current position.
"Blue, my boy, sit down! What brings you here? Can Ms. Primrose get you anything?"
"No, that's fine. I just ate, Hath. How have things been with you?" As you shrug off the bag on your shoulders and get seated, you look up at Ms. Primrose, as always standing behind Hath near the window. She's in her usual garb: a dark brown buff jacket reinforced with blackened steel plating on the shoulders, a gorget of likewise make protecting her neck, and a long-sword sheathed on her side. You've always respected her, especially since she's the one who taught you how to use a knife, but she's never been as friendly to you as Hath could be. She inclines her head towards you (her traditional way of saying hello), then returns towards her usual stance.
"Things are going about as good as they could be. My men managed to finally secure that building contract for our friends to build the new theater in Cinnabar. I'm just looking through the paperwork to make sure everything's good and squared before we finalize things. Didn't even need to flex much muscle at the other bidders this time. Should be an even better return once it gets finished and we start getting paid for providing security. Anyway, Blue, speak up. What's in the sack?"
You take a moment to think about what to say about yesterday.
[ ] Tell the events about as closely as you can, while emphasizing your competence and role in planning this. (Charisma+Presence).
[ ] Exaggerate a bit. Find ways to make yourself look more impressive than you were. (Manipulation+Presence)
[ ] Exaggerate Yazu's role in this, so he can get a bigger cut. He'll appreciate it, and probably be indebted to you. (Manipulation+Presence).
[x] You'll do it. Isn't this what you always wanted? A chance to finally get rich. And it isn't like any of your friends are getting hurt by this.
It takes you a while to decide, but you know in the end that this is the only way you're assured to rise in the ranks of your cartel. If you reject this offer, it could take you decades to rise, decades of doing grunt work and hoping you don't get a knife between your ribs for it. With the aid of a Dragon-blood? You could get into the cushy managerial positions before you hit twenty-two. You look up at the Dynast, "Fine, I'll work with you. Any info you want, you've got."
He claps his hands together, smiling. "Wonderful. Now, for the matter of the future. I take it tomorrow you will be taking what you took to your superior so they may take their share of your earnings, correct?"
You nod. "Yes. Twenty percent goes to him from any income we make from our activities. He kicks up about half of that to the boss, and the boss gives a certain amount of his funds to the overall leader of the Golden Crow Society. Of course, they'll take more in rough times if they need it. Funding for bribes, lawyers, maybe even the occasional assassination if it's really needed. Most of our work here in Nexus is in racketeering and rigging construction bids in the city."
"Standard. Your boss, who I take is an older gentleman by the name of Hath, is a bit unorthodox in his use of children, however. I've observed some as young as eight doing less dangerous work, handing messages off to other members of your gang, with the older ones mostly doing petty thievery in the markets. The grown-ups usually get assigned to the more usual duties of your gang. Why is that?"
"Kids aren't as likely to get killed doing that line of work, and even if they get unlucky and have a denunciation sent out for them, they never get the death sentence, only exile. If that happens, the kids just get shuffled off to another city we have operations in. I've been in for about five years and while I've taken a few beatings, I've never had anything worse than that. But now that I'm getting older, well, shit's getting more dangerous for me. First time I had a knife drawn on me was a month after my sixteenth birthday. Part of why I'm taking your crazy offer."
Your new benefactor nods as he takes this in, readjusting himself on your chair and leaning him. He shows some measure of sympathy to you on his face, but you're not reassured by it considering that this noble prick was probably ready to snap your neck if you said no. "Self-preservation's a good instinct. Rest assured, it's in my interest to get you in a better place. Can't get what I need from a street enforcer."
You breathe in deeply and say, "Alright. Is there anything special I need to do?"
"Yes. Take as much credit as you can for this. After all, all your friend did was hold the bag in there. Make him a subordinate of yours if you wish once you progress if it suits you, it makes no difference to me, but this is your chance to get noticed. Take it as far as you can. I'll be contacting you shortly after I conduct some business of my own. You know how to read?"
"Yes. Learned it from my teachers at the shrine."
"Good. There's a flower seller in Cinnabar District on Sparrow's Lane, "Long's Flowers", and it has a sign with a painting of a lily. Owner's one of mine. Inside, at the corner on the northwest side, there's always a pot of snapdragons. Check under it on the second and fifth day of every week after noon if you can. If I've need of you, there will be a note underneath it. Also, please buy something every so often."
"Why? Don't pay your folks enough?"
"Ha ha. No." He looks slightly irritated with you as he waves his hand around your room. "You need to decorate your home. I've seen deserts with more interesting features to look at in them."
With that, he stands up, and makes to leave. "Sleep in today. You've earned it."
You interrupt him before he gets to the door. "You got a name?"
He pauses, and says, "Can't trust you with the real one. "Gardener" will do for now. Yours?"
"Blue's fine."
"Farewell then, Blue," and reaches for your door handle. He unlocks it (you briefly wonder if he locked it after he came in to be careful and you just didn't hear it like you didn't feel him lifting your pillow up for your knife, or if he somehow got through it without needing to pick it. Either possibility is unnerving), and steps out in the night, and he's gone just as suddenly as he came.
You slump back into your bed, tossing the dagger aside onto the ground. You can't believe what the fuck just happened. You can't and won't trust him worth a damn, but this could be big. At the very least, it can't any worse than the things you normally get up to. You get back underneath the covers and despite everything, sleep comes to you easily.
You awaken, and almost immediately rise up to check that you didn't just dream everything up. Your knife's still where you dropped it. Your fireplace still has warm embers. When you check the chest, the bag with the money, with the clip of twenty koku that the old man- no, Gardener gave you, is still there. You lie down on the floor for a moment and breathe in deeply, before saying the only thing you could possibly say in such a situation: "Holy fuck."
After a moment, you've got your morning routine going. You've set a pot of canal water to boil (the fishwives around here tell you you should do it three times, once to cook the parasites out, once to burn all the piss out of it, and once to show the gods you care, but you've found once over a long time is enough), and are waiting for that to finish so you can toss on a bit of salted chicken. You find, however, that you have a nagging feeling at the back of your mind, a bit of your former religious impulses coming back to the forefront after your encounter with one of the Princes of the Earth. When the water has finished boiling long enough, you take the time to meditate as you once used to.
You find yourself dwelling this morning on the nature of the Immaculate Dragon of Water, Danaa'd. You suppose you had always liked her the best, finding her nature suiting yours the most; from the legends you were told while just a child, she was always the most self-sufficient of the bunch. In her youth, she cast away a birth name more suited to a man and lived as she willed without a second thought. When the Anathema were in power, she could not be tempted by their offerings, rejecting them in favor of the virtue of her own accomplishments and earnings. When the Anathema were cast down by their former Dragon-blooded slaves, she was the one who took the souls of the Solar Anathema and dove to the deepest part of the world to cast them down forever into the Underworld.
You feel an odd bit of shame at the thought of not having achieved your own self-sufficiency. You've been dependent since birth, you feel. On the hospitality of the monks, until you left their shrine at age twelve. Then you were subordinate to Yazu and Hath. And now, to this Dragon-blooded. While you suppose no one can truly be an island unto themselves, you feel disappointed that you're still stuck working at the behest of others.
When you finish your brief meditation, the water in your pot's gone cold. You heat up your chicken, and have it with a side of lentils and chickpeas. You eat in silence, and then resolve to continue on with your life. At the very least, you're not going to be more self-sufficient if you're dead from not giving Hath his due.
You step out into Nexus proper, carrying your money with you in a thick bag secured tightly to your back. You're wise enough to dodge most of the thieves, you think, but it's a tense few hours as you walk towards Hath's establishment on the north end of Nexus District. At the very least, today is cooler than yesterday, thanks to the clouds covering all of the sky. You hope it doesn't rain as you come with site of the Hornet.
The Hornet looms over you, three stories tall, gaudily striped in yellow on the top and ground floor and painted a deep black in the middle and capped with an irimoya roof that comes to a sharp point. On the balconies reside only two patrons, blissfully smoking marijuana as they look towards the docks. At night, the gamblers come in force from the harbor, but for now, the only ones there are friends and colleagues of the old man. The bouncer, a local man that looks as if what you might get if you turned a toad into a human, waves at you and says, "Hey, Blue, how goes it?"
"Good so far, Mr. Hao. Hath in?"
Mr. Hao says, "Yup. In his office."
You nod and walk forward, as Mr. Hao graciously raises up the metal-capped staff he's barring the door, and push through the door. All of the tables, both for dining and for dice, are empty. A few of Hath's enforcers crowd around the bar, taking a break and drinking from flasks filled with beer while taking bites of skewers laden with pepper and steak. Some of them say hello as you pass by and head up the stairs to the third floor, where the high-rollers play their games (or would, if the establishment were open to the general public at this hour). You go towards the paper doors, emblazoned with a quite-good painting of a swarm of (obviously enough) hornets, flying about and preying upon honey bees, and slide them to the side.
Hath sits at his desk, looking down on a list of documents. He is wearing his eye-patch today (he says that he only bothers with a glass eye on certain occasions, as he finds the presence of one in his empty left socket uncomfortable), and is wearing a simple black haori over his robes. He looks up, and smiles in the familiar goofy fashion you know him for. You find it so odd that a person like him would look like a mummer's caricature of a doddering old fool, with a face as round as an orange, expressive eyes that exaggerate his every emotion, and a tomato-like nose. After all, you know how he lost that eye; it was gouged out while he was strangling the person who formerly held his current position.
"Blue, my boy, sit down! What brings you here? Can Ms. Primrose get you anything?"
"No, that's fine. I just ate, Hath. How have things been with you?" As you shrug off the bag on your shoulders and get seated, you look up at Ms. Primrose, as always standing behind Hath near the window. She's in her usual garb: a dark brown buff jacket reinforced with blackened steel plating on the shoulders, a gorget of likewise make protecting her neck, and a long-sword sheathed on her side. You've always respected her, especially since she's the one who taught you how to use a knife, but she's never been as friendly to you as Hath could be. She inclines her head towards you (her traditional way of saying hello), then returns towards her usual stance.
"Things are going about as good as they could be. My men managed to finally secure that building contract for our friends to build the new theater in Cinnabar. I'm just looking through the paperwork to make sure everything's good and squared before we finalize things. Didn't even need to flex much muscle at the other bidders this time. Should be an even better return once it gets finished and we start getting paid for providing security. Anyway, Blue, speak up. What's in the sack?"
You take a moment to think about what to say about yesterday.
[ ] Tell the events about as closely as you can, while emphasizing your competence and role in planning this. (Charisma+Presence).
[ ] Exaggerate a bit. Find ways to make yourself look more impressive than you were. (Manipulation+Presence)
[ ] Exaggerate Yazu's role in this, so he can get a bigger cut. He'll appreciate it, and probably be indebted to you. (Manipulation+Presence).
Last edited:
- Location
- US of A
[X] Exaggerate Yazu's role in this, so he can get a bigger cut. He'll appreciate it, and probably be indebted to you. (Manipulation+Presence).
Not necessarily out of ill-intent, but merely strengthening a potential bond. Pragmatically, Yazu can be called in for favors if we play our cards right.
Not necessarily out of ill-intent, but merely strengthening a potential bond. Pragmatically, Yazu can be called in for favors if we play our cards right.
shulkerbox
free gender radicals (ze/hir)
- Location
- not here
[X] Exaggerate Yazu's role in this, so he can get a bigger cut. He'll appreciate it, and probably be indebted to you. (Manipulation+Presence).
[x] Exaggerate a bit. Find ways to make yourself look more impressive than you were. (Manipulation+Presence)
Chapter 1.6
- Location
- United States
You are ignoring content by this member.
Show ignored content
[x] Exaggerate a bit. Find ways to make yourself look more impressive than you were. (Manipulation+Presence)
"This, Hath, is about as much as an artisan makes in a year." You pat the sack next to you.
Hath seems interested, and gently collects his documents and tucks them into a drawer in his desk. He motions for you to dump out the contents on the top, and you do so, paper fluttering out and coins clattering on the wood. He takes a few moments to count it all out, and then whistles before he puts his focus back on you.
"Well damn, son. How'd you come across all this then?" He sits and looks at you very intently now. You somewhat wish you had taken him up on his offer for at least a cup of water before this, but you instead have to content yourself with taking a very deep breath before you begin to speak. You resolve that you might as well go big while you're here.
You relay an embellished story of what you did yesterday. You, of course, leave out Gardener in every way. Instead, you declare that you conned all of the patricians flawlessly, not a single hitch in your efforts. In this telling, there is no bouncer to rattle you, but instead a neat little detail about how the bartender was so moved that he personally went and plucked out a wad of twenty koku from his own safe.
"You get the safe's location?" Hath asks.
"Sorry, didn't. He ran to give it to us after we left."
"Damn. I could've sent Ms. Primrose to go snag what's in it if you had a location for it. But hell, that doesn't matter. Good job, boy! This is admirable for someone in your position."
Hath thinks for a bit. "Listen, I knew you were special almost as soon as we met. Yazu's got a silver-tongue, but you've got one hell of a brain, Blue, and that's what really counts. But, there's a bit of prejudice against educated types like you in the Society. They think people like you are soft, too cerebral to get along and do what needs to be done. I experienced a lot of the same back in my time, but I was self-taught in most respects. Probably how I got by to where I am."
Hath takes a moment to dip below his desk, and pulls out a long pipe carved out of a boar's tusk and some tobacco. As he works on shoving tobacco into it, he says, "What I'm trying to say is that there's a bit of structural impediment to your advancement. They'd rather you all climb around in the muck with them for a decade or two longer, prove you're not some pampered intellectual."
You frown and say, "I understand, but, I feel like I'm being wasted, honestly. I'm pulling these cons and I'm damn good at them, but I've hit a ceiling on what I can do just teaming up with Yazu, duping idiots into buying second-hand musical instruments and running shell games. If I had a crew, I could really start pulling in the money for us that you know I can. Today was just a taste."
Hath dips a small reed into the flame of his desk lantern and uses it to light his pipe before responding. "Yeah, kid, I know. Listen, I'll try to get you into a good position. I think you deserve it more than any of the other guys I'm in charge of. It's gonna take a shit load of favors, though. You'll owe me until the day I croak, understand?"
You nod, saying, "I already owe you until the day you croak. Hell, I'll be making offerings to your ghost for decades after that."
Hath smiles and says, "You're a good kid. Now-", he separates the money you placed on the desk into a few piles, "-let's divvy this up."
As you guessed, roughly twenty percent immediately finds itself getting taken off the table and into Hath's desk. Your cut is about eighty-five percent of what's left. The rest, tucked away into another drawer, is for Yazu. You hope he's not too pissed by this payout, but you do got to admit, he didn't really do much that day and it's way more than he probably would have made that day doing anything else.
As you put the rest of the money back into your sack, Hath rises up from his chair and says, "Alright, lad, there you go. All yours to spend or save. Or well, anywhere that isn't here. You know my opinions on gambling, kid."
"I know, Hath. It's the easiest con in the world and has the most-willing marks in the world. Just takes a lot of capital to pull it off."
"Right you are, boy." He walks over and slides the door open for you as you make your way out. He gives you a friendly pat on the back as you walk back into the empty gaming room, and then says a quick good-bye before sliding the door closed, shutting you off from him and the smell of tobacco smoke. You stand there for a moment, unsure of yourself. Once again, that feeling of you lacking any control over your life washes over you.
You find yourself home at about mid-day. You check your door lock as you come in, fruitlessly trying to figure out how Gardener even got in, before sighing and giving up. You sit down on your chair, tossing your sack full of money to the ground, and stay still for a while. After a while, you resolve to do something with your day. Anything to get out of this mood. You think you should avoid Yazu for now; you don't want to wind up telling him how much he's getting out of your haul.
[ ] Go to the market. You suppose Gardener had a point. This room is depressing. Maybe you should get some kind of decorations for it.
[ ] Go see a play or something in Cinnabar District. Comedy or tragedy doesn't matter; the first will make you laugh, the latter will at least make you realize that it could always be worse.
[ ] Go to the Immaculate Shrine. Perhaps the monks could actually help you with how you're feeling. Or just give you an indecipherable koan.
[ ] Write-in. Nexus is a city teeming with near-millions of people, some from as far off as the West. Surely there's more to it than just markets and plays and shrines.
"This, Hath, is about as much as an artisan makes in a year." You pat the sack next to you.
Hath seems interested, and gently collects his documents and tucks them into a drawer in his desk. He motions for you to dump out the contents on the top, and you do so, paper fluttering out and coins clattering on the wood. He takes a few moments to count it all out, and then whistles before he puts his focus back on you.
"Well damn, son. How'd you come across all this then?" He sits and looks at you very intently now. You somewhat wish you had taken him up on his offer for at least a cup of water before this, but you instead have to content yourself with taking a very deep breath before you begin to speak. You resolve that you might as well go big while you're here.
You relay an embellished story of what you did yesterday. You, of course, leave out Gardener in every way. Instead, you declare that you conned all of the patricians flawlessly, not a single hitch in your efforts. In this telling, there is no bouncer to rattle you, but instead a neat little detail about how the bartender was so moved that he personally went and plucked out a wad of twenty koku from his own safe.
"You get the safe's location?" Hath asks.
"Sorry, didn't. He ran to give it to us after we left."
"Damn. I could've sent Ms. Primrose to go snag what's in it if you had a location for it. But hell, that doesn't matter. Good job, boy! This is admirable for someone in your position."
Hath thinks for a bit. "Listen, I knew you were special almost as soon as we met. Yazu's got a silver-tongue, but you've got one hell of a brain, Blue, and that's what really counts. But, there's a bit of prejudice against educated types like you in the Society. They think people like you are soft, too cerebral to get along and do what needs to be done. I experienced a lot of the same back in my time, but I was self-taught in most respects. Probably how I got by to where I am."
Hath takes a moment to dip below his desk, and pulls out a long pipe carved out of a boar's tusk and some tobacco. As he works on shoving tobacco into it, he says, "What I'm trying to say is that there's a bit of structural impediment to your advancement. They'd rather you all climb around in the muck with them for a decade or two longer, prove you're not some pampered intellectual."
You frown and say, "I understand, but, I feel like I'm being wasted, honestly. I'm pulling these cons and I'm damn good at them, but I've hit a ceiling on what I can do just teaming up with Yazu, duping idiots into buying second-hand musical instruments and running shell games. If I had a crew, I could really start pulling in the money for us that you know I can. Today was just a taste."
Hath dips a small reed into the flame of his desk lantern and uses it to light his pipe before responding. "Yeah, kid, I know. Listen, I'll try to get you into a good position. I think you deserve it more than any of the other guys I'm in charge of. It's gonna take a shit load of favors, though. You'll owe me until the day I croak, understand?"
You nod, saying, "I already owe you until the day you croak. Hell, I'll be making offerings to your ghost for decades after that."
Hath smiles and says, "You're a good kid. Now-", he separates the money you placed on the desk into a few piles, "-let's divvy this up."
As you guessed, roughly twenty percent immediately finds itself getting taken off the table and into Hath's desk. Your cut is about eighty-five percent of what's left. The rest, tucked away into another drawer, is for Yazu. You hope he's not too pissed by this payout, but you do got to admit, he didn't really do much that day and it's way more than he probably would have made that day doing anything else.
As you put the rest of the money back into your sack, Hath rises up from his chair and says, "Alright, lad, there you go. All yours to spend or save. Or well, anywhere that isn't here. You know my opinions on gambling, kid."
"I know, Hath. It's the easiest con in the world and has the most-willing marks in the world. Just takes a lot of capital to pull it off."
"Right you are, boy." He walks over and slides the door open for you as you make your way out. He gives you a friendly pat on the back as you walk back into the empty gaming room, and then says a quick good-bye before sliding the door closed, shutting you off from him and the smell of tobacco smoke. You stand there for a moment, unsure of yourself. Once again, that feeling of you lacking any control over your life washes over you.
You find yourself home at about mid-day. You check your door lock as you come in, fruitlessly trying to figure out how Gardener even got in, before sighing and giving up. You sit down on your chair, tossing your sack full of money to the ground, and stay still for a while. After a while, you resolve to do something with your day. Anything to get out of this mood. You think you should avoid Yazu for now; you don't want to wind up telling him how much he's getting out of your haul.
[ ] Go to the market. You suppose Gardener had a point. This room is depressing. Maybe you should get some kind of decorations for it.
[ ] Go see a play or something in Cinnabar District. Comedy or tragedy doesn't matter; the first will make you laugh, the latter will at least make you realize that it could always be worse.
[ ] Go to the Immaculate Shrine. Perhaps the monks could actually help you with how you're feeling. Or just give you an indecipherable koan.
[ ] Write-in. Nexus is a city teeming with near-millions of people, some from as far off as the West. Surely there's more to it than just markets and plays and shrines.
Last edited: