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The Last Daughter -- Dragon-Blooded Sorcery School Quest

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Daedwartin said:
Something to bring up is Sidereals actually have a set in stone expiration date of 5000 years. They are probably the only things in creation that dying early is actually literally meant as opposed to people feeling it was too early for someone to die.
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It's more that they each have a predestined lifespan which can be that long, or it can be less; it's hard to know for sure. As long as nothing unexpected kills you early, you live for a long fucking time until Saturn takes you in the end.
 
Actually, here's the specific description:

Article:
Longevity

A Sidereal might live for millennia, but not a single day more than the Maidens have allotted her. For most Sidereals, this is between three thousand and five thousand years. No Sidereal is known to have reached their sixth millennium - with one notable exception -nor have any succumbed to old age before their second millennium was nearly up. Anagathic drugs, peaches of immortality, and other methods of extending one's lifespan are of no use to them. The infamous rogue Sidereal Rakan Thulio seems to have somehow transcended the limit of his years, and has offered to share his secret with certain elder Sidereals in hopes of tempting them to his cause.
Source: Sidereals: Charting Fate's Course KS Backer Manuscript pg. 11


As opposed to, for point of relevant comparison, Dragon-Blooded:

Article:
The Dragon-Blooded live 250-300 years on average, though those with truly refined mastery of Essence, as well as those employing rare and expensive magical regimens, may live significantly longer. For example, the sorceress Mnemon, eldest surviving daughter of the Scarlet Empress, will soon celebrate her 400th birthday and is still in her prime.
Source: Exalted Third Edition Corebook pg.35
 
As far as I'm aware the Sidereals have a hard limit on their lifespan which can't be increased, but Dragon-Blooded can increase their lifespans even beyond Sidereals but it would take an insane amount of Sorcery, resources, and other stuff like that. Sidereals interestingly enough are the only Exalts with a hard limit on how old they can get.
 
I mean, they are enforcers of fate, so it actually makes a lot of sense. After all, dying is fate of everything living, something something morbid and witty Chosen of Endings repartee here.
 
There's an explicit canon way for Dragon-Blooded to live forever as spirits (both before and after their physical deaths), and there's even a way for them to reincarnate in young bodies with full memories. Forest Witches: abandon civilization, live forever in the matrix and/or live forever gathering human sacrifices to feed the matrix.

Dragon-Blooded lifespan is "shorter than all non-Exigent Exalts, but if you're an important plot character you can stick around forever".
 
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ArcanaVitae said:
As far as I'm aware the Sidereals have a hard limit on their lifespan which can't be increased, but Dragon-Blooded can increase their lifespans even beyond Sidereals but it would take an insane amount of Sorcery, resources, and other stuff like that. Sidereals interestingly enough are the only Exalts with a hard limit on how old they can get.
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The Empress is considered to be truly exceptional to have lived to be like 800 while only having visibly aged to her 30s. There was only one specific example I'm aware of, from 2e content that I'm not using as a reference for this quest, of a Dragon-Blood older than that. Ragara is like, absolutely ancient in his early 600s. There's no hard cap for them, but they have their practical limits. (There are also the Forest Witches, but they're really weird outliers that I have never really had a use for as a personal matter, so just assume they're not going to be relevant to this quest.)

Dragon-Blooded don't have it the worst, though, there are certain Exigents who have to make due with a peak mortal lifespan
 
I wonder how much the idea of giving Sidereals the longest natural lifespans out of all exalt types (I assume other celestials could outlive one more easily than a DB theoretically could) was motivated by the simple desire to have the most continuity and longest memories for the puppet masters scheming in the background, and how much was just to make the effects of Arcane Fate hurt more.
 
ArcanaVitae said:
As far as I'm aware the Sidereals have a hard limit on their lifespan which can't be increased, but Dragon-Blooded can increase their lifespans even beyond Sidereals but it would take an insane amount of Sorcery, resources, and other stuff like that. Sidereals interestingly enough are the only Exalts with a hard limit on how old they can get.
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Strictly speaking as far as I'm aware it's more that we don't know for certain how far various Exalts (aside from Sidereals) can stretch their lifespan, and that's not unique to Dragon-Blooded

Solars naturally live for an average of 2000-3000 years, but that's not factoring in High Essence and during the First Age many of them were also investing and researching in anagathics and life extending Sorcery (And Solars get exclusive access to the 3rd Circle so they'd probably be able to push it farther than anyone else)
The exact limits that Solar lifespan can be pushed to simply aren't known as far as I know, since they got killed in the Usurpation before those limits could be firmly established

Dragon-Blooded are in a similar boat since the Scarlet Empress is 800 and seems perfectly hale and hearty
But that doesn't give any clear indicator how close to the edge she is or isn't since Exalts tend to not show any negative signs of age right up until their final years
 
Whether or not an Exalt shows signs of aging varies by type of Exalt as well as by individual. Dragon-Blooded seem to normally age like mortals, just on a dramatically slower timeline. Some Exigents live as long or longer than they do, but age more quickly. Architects, the Exigents chosen by the goddess of cities and various city gods, age and die exactly like mortals do, except their ageing freezes indefinitely as long as they're within the confines of their city.
 
[X] The Serpent Thief

The last few chapters have explored the social and cultural dynamics of the Dragon-Blooded(and the resulting drama) quite well, and so I think a shift in perspective towards the feuds and politics of the spirit courts would be interesting.
It would also be good for Ambraea to reaffirm her bonds and obtain further favour from her spirit allies before all hell breaks loose in the Realm.

Besides, getting more spooky danger noodles like Verdigris is one of Ambraea's aims, right? Perhaps getting involved in this feud will give her an opportunity to do just that.
 
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    Year 5: Hard Lessons 01
  • Threadmarks
    • Hard Lessons: 21

    The Serpent Thief: 19

    Best Served Cold: 12

    Descending Fire, Realm Year 762

    One year, four months before the disappearance of the Scarlet Empress

    The Port of Chanos, Chanos Prefecture

    "You're late."

    You give a slight sigh, gratefully accepting the chilled drink offered by one of the servers. "It takes entirely too long to get ready in the morning when I am being assisted by someone who jumps out of her skin everytime I twitch," you say. "I think I could have dressed myself faster."

    L'nessa gives a sympathetic wince. "Are you breaking in a new girl?"

    You're in a second floor room of an upscale teashop. Comfortable couches are arranged near tables laden with refreshments, served by a pair of silent boys with a far-northern look to them. The walls are painted with a bright, cascading pattern that reminds you of the sea one moment and a stormy sky the next. A large balcony overlooks the port itself, near enough to feel adventurous, not so near enough for the clientele to be bothered with the presence of sailors and dockhands. All in all, the sort of place that appeals to L'nessa for its fashionable elegance as well as Amiti for its relative quiet and privacy.

    "Yes," you say, taking a seat.

    You glance up as Maia steps into view from the direction of the door. "Why is that?" she asks.

    No one heard her coming in, and so everyone but you starts a little. Sola hides it the best, but she still says: "Do you have to do that?" She isn't sitting down like the rest of you, instead learning against the wall with her drink, clearly distracted by something.

    "Apologies," Maia says, dipping her head. "This room is normally reserved for Dynasts, and I just wanted to avoid the conversation about why I'm supposed to be here — being Exalted makes it worse, almost, they never feel like they can just come out and say it."

    "... You didn't tell them we were expecting a patrician?" L'nessa asks, shooting Amiti an exasperated look.

    "I forgot I was supposed to," Amiti says, wincing a little. She's got a book open on her lap, but doesn't seem to be reading it at the moment. "Sorry, Maia!"

    There's very little use being upset with Amiti over such a thing, you tell yourself, although you're still privately annoyed. "It's fine," you tell Maia, "sit down."

    Gratefully, Maia chooses the far end of the couch you're seated on, still notably less relaxed than everyone else but Sola. Things will be different once you simply tell people that she's your Hearthmate. You've just both been putting that off for a more appropriate time. "... Why do you have a new handmaiden, though?" Maia asks.

    You shrug. "The previous one left my service." It's an unimportant enough turn of events that your mind skates over the details. You're not even sure why Maia is asking.

    No one else blinks at this. Maia, however, bites her lip. "Wait," she says, "but, I thought she'd been with you since—" Looking at her, you inexplicably have the impression of someone who has charged their way up a steep hill only for their momentum to fall short, feet skidding briefly before they go out from under her. "... For a long time," she finishes, suddenly uncertain.

    You frown slightly. "I'm not even sure I remember her name," you confess. There's something there, something ever so slightly off, the recollection just outside your reach.

    Then L'nessa laughs, and it's gone so completely you can't even recall there'd been anything wrong in the first place. "Ambraea," she says, fondly disapproving, "you are awful with servants' names, do you know that? A small amount of grace for her servants costs a lady very little, and can pay off thrice over when you need to count on their loyalty. Or so my mother says."

    Words with no clear origin or significance drift up to the surface of your memories. What would I do without your singular grace and dedication? It must have been something you heard somewhere, although you can't quite place where. "That does seem like her," you say, feeling that familiar, uncharitable stab of resentment you get whenever you think of V'neef in her person.

    It's an increasingly inconvenient emotional reaction; your correspondences with members of L'nessa's house are getting more frequent and more cordial. You're also well aware that L'nessa did you and your father a considerable favour by dropping everything to assist Teran when you'd asked, apparently with the quiet approval of V'neef — easy enough for her to obtain, with Infallible Messenger being at the heart of her sorcery. Even now, you spot the tiny cherub flitting through the wave patterns on the wall, just over L'nessa's shoulder.

    You glance over at Sola, presumably occupied with the departure of much of her house for the Threshold. A grand undertaking to crush some Anathema warlord in the Northeast. "I've been meaning to say," you tell her, "but I think you would have liked Ophris Maharan Teran."

    "The Prasadi?" Sola asks. "It would have been interesting to meet him, at least. You're the closest thing to someone from that part of the world I've spoken to."

    Which is very far away indeed, in every way that matters. "He had very interesting stories about his adventures in making his way to the Blessed Isle — he left less than a week before you arrived in Chanos; you may have passed each other on different roads." There's a pause, before you feel compelled to primly add: "Although, I didn't get along with him quite as well as L'nessa did."

    Maia lets out a helpless sort of giggle. Sola glances at L'nessa, her eyebrows shooting up. "Did you really?"

    "They were a little excessively obvious about it," you say.

    L'nessa takes a slow, unflappable sip from her drink. "I don't think it's a crime to enjoy a young man's company. Teran has many qualities to admire." She somehow says this with both a slightly suggestive note and a completely straight face, much to Sola's amusement. "I don't quite understand my dear, venerable aunt's standards for excessive, however. I can't recall her bed ever being empty on our trip. Meaning no offense, of course, Maia, but you can see how she's being ridiculous."

    Maia snatches up her own waiting drink from one of the servers and takes a deep gulp, apparently using it as an excuse to hide her face from further scrutiny. For your part, you cast L'nessa a coolly unimpressed look. It's obvious to everyone present, you're certain, how this is not even remotely the same thing. You're perfectly discreet.

    "If we're going to talk about men, does it need to be this part?" Amiti asks, making a face from over the cover of her book.

    "Did you have a particular man in mind, then?" L'nessa asks, "your cadet house boy from the Violet Coast, maybe?"

    Amiti's face no longer seems to retain enough colour even to blush, but her reaction is still far more dramatic than Maia's had been. "No!" she splutters. "I mean— Huwen and I are just maintaining a scholarly correspondence! An exchange of information! Absolutely nothing untoward has—"

    Honestly, she makes it all too easy, sometimes.

    While Amiti continues to give her frantic explanation to L'nessa, you glance over to Sola, who is at least smiling now. "Three years left, Tepet," you tell her, "these are the years where we prove we've learned something."

    "You don't need to keep me from sulking, if that's what you're doing," Sola says. "I know where my priorities have to be, Ambraea. It's not as though I can fight with my house in the Threshold — that's been made perfectly clear to me."

    Reasonably enough, you think, although you don't say this. She would hardly be appreciative. "Well, if you did leave early, I'd have to find a new sparring partner," you say. "And who exactly would I find who could keep up with me as well as you do?"

    Sola gives a light scoff. "'Keeping up with' is a strange way of saying 'can run circles around you.'"

    "Speed isn't everything."

    "Well, for your sake, Ambraea, I'm very glad to hear that."

    Tomorrow, you'll all board the ship for the Isle of Voices once again, a process that has somehow almost become normal. Sola will be fine, you're sure, once the demands of school life have her fully in their grasp once again. You, yourself, have been looking forward to it more than normal. For some reason, you just haven't been enjoying these last weeks of the Academic break terribly much, and it has nothing to do with your father's cryptic updates on your potential marriage prospects. Something plays at the back of your mind sometimes, as if there's something that you've forgotten.

    "Well," you say, raising your drink toward Sola, "to recognising our limits then."

    She smiles, and raises her own glass. "To recognising your limits."

    Whatever it is, it can't have been that important.


    Year 5: Hard Lessons

    Resplendent Air, 763

    Fourteen months before the disappearance of the Scarlet Empress

    Expectations shift for you in your fifth year. It is assumed, rightly or wrongly, that any student who has survived so long at the Heptagram is no longer a raw novice grasping for the basics. Rather, you are now honing your knowledge and refining your power toward true mastery. Before you graduate, as is tradition, you will be expected to be able to present a body of research, practical as well as theoretical. To this end, older students conduct experiments in the wilderness of the Isle of Voices.

    As usual, the winter months following Calibration are both miserable and clammy. For the past several weeks, the weather has alternated ceaselessly between snow and ice and periodic bouts of driving rain, the wet stealing whatever reprieve the slight warm spells should have provided. Such is life on the Shadowed Sea.

    Verdigris lays curled up beneath the warmth of your cloak as you try to focus on your reading, which is hard, given that you're reading a very tedious volume while at the same time sitting adjacent to a considerably more interesting conversation.

    Amiti, amid the strangeness of her usual studies and her own fifth year workload, has abruptly decided that this is the right time to seriously brush up on her tactical theory. It had been partially prompted by a letter from Kasi, who has suggested it as part of a general push to make Amiti and her highly embarrassing abilities seem like a unique asset to their mother and their house. To this end, she has managed to rope Sola into helping a little.

    It doesn't exactly take a huge amount of convincing to get Sola to argue about historical battles with someone. The two of them sit at a cramped little library table near to you, a history book, a necromancy tome, and scrap of paper with a map scrawled on it between them.

    "The reason they retreated was that the enemy was already digging in when they arrived," Sola says, "the position wasn't favourable."

    "If they'd made the push anyway, they might not have lost that city," Amiti says, frowning down at the doodled map. "The losses would have been worth it in the end, wouldn't they?"

    "You can't be that careless with your own soldiers, Amiti," Sola says, running a hand through her hair in quiet distress. "Our troops are worth more than the enemy's. Even Sesus troops."

    You raise your eyebrows at Sola, but as usual, Amiti takes no notice of the slander against her house. "Oh, well, that wouldn't be a problem," she says. "I wouldn't have to put our living troops in that much danger. I could just reanimate the other side's once we kill them." Then, as if this isn't disquieting enough, she adds: "Or our dead in a pinch, I suppose. Victory must always come before moral niceties, doesn't it? Mother says that."

    You can't say that this surprises you, coming from Amiti, but you'd be lying if you said it didn't shock you to hear it floated out loud. Desecrating the enemy dead is, of course, improper and morally suspect. Treating fallen soldiers of the Realm who have given their lives in battle this way is outright appalling.

    Sola recoils, seemingly of a similar mind. Before either of you can directly respond, though, there's a disgusted scoff from behind you. "Bad enough that this school would allow anyone to openly study as debased a practice as necromancy, let alone a Sesus."

    You glance behind you, taking note of the boy there. He's in the process of pushing his spectacles up his nose, a motion you're entirely sure he does to draw attention to their blue jade lenses rather than from any need. "I don't recall seeking your opinion on the matter, Cathak," you say. Now a fourth year, Cathak Garel Hylo has grown in his years at the Heptagram, although not terribly much. In your estimation, the few inches of height he's managed to muster only emphasise the scrawniness of his build, the prissy arrogance of his features. As ever, there's not a speck of dirt anywhere on his uniform, or a bright red hair out of place on his head.

    "Nor do I," Sola says, glaring at him. Her hand doesn't actually go for the hilt of her daiklave, but you can read the impulse in her words. "Do you have anything actually constructive to add, beyond petty insults?"

    Amiti doesn't say anything, seemingly absorbed as she is in her notes. You're starting to get better at telling the difference between when her distraction is genuine, and when it's a front to avoid an uncomfortable conversation.

    "Is it a petty insult to acknowledge the plain truth of the matter?" Hylo asks. "What kind of horrors do you imagine her house might do with someone of her... talents?"

    Sola glances at the notes, and tries to hide her obvious discomfort. "There's only so many insults directed at my friends that I'm willing to swallow, Cathak," she says, nonetheless.

    "Your objections might be better carried if you kept a better hold on your temper," you say. "There's no cause for such an emotional outburst."

    Hylo stiffens at this, and Sola gives a short laugh, for some reason. "That was uncalled for," he says, swallowing a degree of obvious indignation. "I'm merely saying what I'm sure you both already believe."

    "Really, Cathak? You're here to tell me what I believe?" Sola asks.

    Hylo regards her coolly. Then he glances back to you. "Ambraea, have you ever heard the old joke about the three generals tasked with taking a fortress?"

    Sola sighs, but for your part, you honestly haven't. "No," you say, not sure where he's going with this.

    Hylo doesn't seem to need more of an excuse than that. He pushes his glasses up his nose again. "Three generals are on campaign together at the head of a great army: A Cathak, a Tepet, and a Sesus. They come upon a mighty fortress, a valuable defensive point that they must take before going any further, and they fall to arguing about how to proceed.

    "The Tepet, naturally, comes up with a bold and daring plan to storm the walls in a single day, a masterstroke that will save time and soldiers if properly executed.

    "'And leave half our army dead if everything doesn't go to plan,' says the Cathak. She proposes that they lay siege to the fortress, slowly and carefully starve it out over the course of months. They would hardly take losses at all, in the end.

    "The Tepet disagrees, however, and the two of them argue all day and all night. They only stop when they look up to see the Sesus general entering the tent, having left at some point during the night. They demand that she weigh in and break the impasse—"

    Here, speaking up for the first time, Amiti cuts in. "And she laughs, and tells them 'there's no need for any of that, I've just gotten back from seeing about poisoning the fortress's water supply.'" She glances up from her notes, and smiles. "It's funny that we tell that one too, isn't it?"

    Despite her earlier indifference to a joke she's heard before, Amiti's interjection makes Sola, at least, laugh. "I'm sure you do," she says, before her eyes flick over to Hylo. "If you've got an actual point, make it."

    "My point has been made very well, both by me and by Lady Amiti," Hylo says. "Necromancy is the kind of weapon that's barely acceptable even to wield against barbarians, and even then it's suspect."

    Amiti sighs, going back to her notes. "Well, who else would I be being sent to war against?" she asks.

    "This is your last chance to drop this, however little she's willing to properly defend herself," Sola says, a warning note in her voice.

    Hylo adjusts his glasses. "The company a woman keeps says much about her moral character, or so I'm told," he says. "I would have expected lack of judgment from a Tepet, but—"

    As you rise to your feet, your hand comes down on your reading table hard enough to make the wood groan and the entire room shudder underfoot. "Leave us," you tell Hylo, "before I extract an apology you will not enjoy giving."

    "I'd help," Sola adds.

    Hylo looks at your face for a long moment, evidently reconsidering just who else's character he's just insulted along with Sola's. "Very well." Pushing his glasses up his nose a final time, Hylo secures his book under one reedy arm, and walks out of the room.

    "That boy is going to say something he can't take back, some day," Sola says. "I honestly hope it's to me."

    You don't think you disagree, in principle.

    Amiti gives a sigh of relief as he goes. "Anyway," she says, "thank you, Sola, for your help. Did you still need someone to look over that wind mapping you've started on?"

    Sola sighs, running a hand through her hair. "Yes. Dragons, I knew this part was going to be tedious, but I didn't really understand how tedious. Don't fall behind yourself, though."

    Amiti shrugs. "I'm still gathering observations for the next several days, no real difficult work yet. And it's only the first year, so I'm trying to pace myself." This last is, as far as you're concerned, a great and monstrous lie. Amiti's standards have always been entirely her own, however, on this and many matters. You also don't entirely pretend to understand what, exactly, Amiti is studying — trying to parse a few of the signs she has present in her notes causes you a mild amount of physical pain.

    Sola's experimentations into weather working, by contrast, are both unexciting and deeply practical. This is a running theme with her actual scholarship and sorcery, in stark difference from her swordsmanship. "Alright, then," Sola says, "just try not to wind up in the mess Peleps Nalri has."

    Nalri, now in her seventh year, has hit a dead end on the research she's been conducting for the past several. So far, she has done nothing but confirm the work of previous scholars. Which is adequate work, of course, but what Dynast wants to be adequate? Naturally, the whole school knows — academic failure is as persistent a source of gossip among your peers as romantic entanglements are.

    Things going so poorly for Nalri makes you feel a little vindicated about your decision to put off retribution against her until after graduation, with more options open to you, and no school to restrict your actions. If she's already desperate and miserable, it would only be twisting the knife at this point. Maia very obviously doesn't agree, but she respects the fact that it's your decision.

    You think.

    In any event, you have your own work to focus on.

    Article:
    What is the focus of your personal research, over the course of your last three years?

    [ ] Elemental cultivation

    The fact that elementals grow and change in power over time, gradually changing their nature until they eventually take the form of a lesser elemental dragon, is not a new observation. The exact processes can be mysterious, however, and you have access to sources on the subject that most others don't.

    [ ] Spell tracings

    The Isle of Voices has been home to sorcerers of various varieties for thousands of years, its landscape and geomancy affected by layer upon layer of workings and spellwork. You think you can examine some of the magical residue left behind to discover things about the nature of sorcery from the past.

    [ ] Spirit modification

    Workings to modify a spirit that you have in your power are a subtle and difficult art, although more forgiving than those for doing the same to a living human. Longterm, as a minor elemental permanently bound to you, Verdigris is a very convenient canvas for this kind of work.
     
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