The vault resists
- Pronouns
- They/Them
[] A third party shows their face and has to be addressed.
[] It's just as easy to get clear as you'd hoped.
Some time ago...
This is simply not fair, Deled thinks to himself. Any heretic in the world that wants to betray the Immaculate Dragons seems to have no trouble pulling dark power out of thin air, but when one faithful son needs to take a single fell bargain for necessities, it's all but impossible.
Pelps Deled, Water Aspect Dragon-Blood and the Realm's Pinnacle of the Wyld Hunt, stands alone in a raksha's court. The fae noble is reclining on a pile of furs propped against the side of a spider-lion the size of an elephant. He's been sitting there quietly for a couple of minutes, not yet responding.
Deled has been reduced to this. Stabbed in the back by an Anathema who has stolen the face of an extended family member and attacked from the front by a beast with more brute strength than any Dragon-Blood, he lost his arm, and has been trying to find a replacement that will let him fight. Which brings him here, to the court of Spinner-of-Wonder, who is coyly considering Deled's latest entirely-too-generous offer in exchange for a gossamer arm that can't even stand the touch of cold iron.
However, before negotiations continue, there is an interruption. There's clamor at the entrance to the mostly-illusory palace that Spinner-of-Wonder claims as his own. Spinner sits up straight, the hookah he had been enjoying flickering and turning into a spear, instead. Deled turns to face that direction, too, to find a strange sight.
An albino woman on a strange, white mount rides in. A couple of hobgoblins try to bar her way, but she doesn't even respond to their words. She just puts the butt of her long, black scabbard into them, staving their foreheads in with one touch each, apparently without even thinking about it.
"What's the meaning of this?" The raksha noble demands.
The interloper barely gives him a look before she finds Peleps Deled, instead. "Hey," she says, by way of greeting. "People were saying there was a Wyld Hunt guy out here. That's you, right? Can I get you to help me find an Anathema I need to kill?"
The woman in white hops off her steed, clutching her weapon tight to her chest as if it were a precious thing she is afraid will be taken from her. Belatedly, Deled realizes her mount is no living creature. It is an animate skeleton with a saddle put on it to make it more comfortable to ride and, incongruously, what looks like luggage wedged into its ribcage.
The atmosphere in the raksha's court changes. "You think you can ignore me?" Spinner-of-Wonder gets to his feet, casually flourishing his spear in a complex pattern as he steps down from his dais, and the monstrous Wyld creature behind him heaves itself to its eight terrible, clawed feet. "You aren't the first hopped-up human hero to think me me an easy mark. Let me show you what the last Exalt discovered in his last moments."
Deled stands where he is, torn between his desire to step in between a presumed human and a fae monster on one end, and his own need for the fae on the other. For just a moment, he hesitates, for all that he knows he will throw himself in the way in a moment further. However, before he can take more than a single step forward, he is brought up short.
The woman turns towards the angered raksha lord, a black brand appearing on her forehead: the symbol of the Forsaken, those terrible warrior-generals of the Anathema. "Fuck off," she replies, simply.
With a world-shaking roar, the lion-spider attacks, leaping high in the air and aiming to crash down on the Forsaken with claws fit to disembowel a bear on any hit.
There is a terrible, wet ripping noise, all the worse for being so quiet compared to the roar. The creature collapses to the ground, inches short of her, its head and a foot or two of its torso torn apart vertically.
But that had been just a distraction. The raksha darted behind her while his pet served to hold her attention in a very dramatic fashion, and now he races in to skewer her before she realizes there's more than one threat.
Despite Spinner-of-Wonder's swiftness and silence, something seems to have given him away. An instant before the spearhead hits the woman in white, she blurs into motion.
Deled's eyes find her, just beyond Spinner. The fae man staggers, his spear having hit nothing, and she looks entirely unconcerned, her blade still sheathed. Or, no, sheathed again.
Blood seeps from Spinner's neck. Entirely around his neck. For a moment, Deled thinks she has shorn his head clean off, but the truth is harder to believe: in that brief instant, she had carefully cut a perfect circle, taking the weak spot from every angle before he could even realize she had struck, deep enough to cut the skin but not enough to kill.
It is impossible. No one is that fast, that precise. Spinner-of-Wonder chokes for a moment, then collapses to his knees, trying to staunch the flow of slightly iridescent blood with his hands. "You... I'll tell Queen Elegance about this!" His willingness to cross blades with her is gone.
The albino turns and takes two barefoot steps back towards him. She hooks the end of her scabbard under his chin to force him to look up at her. "Go ahead," she says, softly. "Go to your leader and confess you were defeated utterly. Tell her it was the Clochard of the Vermilion Trail. Or don't. Now, fuck off."
She lets his chin drop and turns her back, the raksha forgotten. She approaches Deled with a smile on her face. "So, anyway," the Clochard continues, as if the interruption had never happened, "There's this Anathema I've been assigned to kill. Named Vessel of the Mourning's Light Unyielding. Tall, pale, has a magic boomerang and used to be in charge of a place called the Lap."
Deled frowns at the black mark on her forehead. "You're Anathema, too, though."
The Clochard rolls her eyes. "Yes, I noticed. I'll kill you after him if you want, but can we target my guy first?"
Things click in Deled's head. Danaa'd truly hasn't forgotten him. Unbelievably, this woman is trying to target the same monster he must get his revenge on. The Dragons have given him his chance. "On one condition," he says. He gestures to his missing arm. "Find me a replacement. A real replacement, and I will as quickly and efficiently as possible help you kill this Anathema you seek."
Her hands clutch her black blade more closely as she considers this. "I'll need to talk to my boss, but I think we can do that. Good to do business with ya." Her smile broadens.
Here and now
There is a buzzing noise in the air. The three of you look up as a little messenger-sprite comes in to try to perch on your shoulder.
"I didn't know you knew any fairies," Nine Leagues Strides says, watching it.
"I didn't know that, either." The softly glowing creature alights, and considers you, apparently satisfied that it has reached its target.
"I bear a message from Understanding Auris, contracted through my mistress." That must be the raksha up the street, you realize: the Immaculate Temple that Understanding Auris oversees is within a stone's throw (at least, for someone with your throwing arm) of that place. "She says, 'Amphora, a warning. There was a Water Aspect shikari with a golden arm and a tall albino who arrived in town looking for someone of your description.' Message ends." The sprite discorporates entirely, turning into a multi-colored fog that fades in a few seconds as minuscule wind currents blow it away.
You frown and look at Ari. "Could that be Peleps Deled?"
"Who's that?"
It takes a moment to process. Of course Ari wouldn't know his name. Although you fought together with Ari against him, to Ari Deled was only a random foe, one of countless seemingly interchangeable Immaculate monks. "The monk we fought together. We cut his arm off. He must have found a replacement, somehow."
"Oh, him. Right. I'm more worried about the other one." Ari instinctively covers one of his eyes in a protective gesture. "That deathknight who almost cut my eye out was a tall albino."
"...Why would a devout Immaculate monk team up with a deathknight?"
"You're a devout Immaculate, and you've teamed up with two Lunars."
You hesitate. What the hell are you doing out here? "That's different," you reply, as you try to figure out how.
"I already regret asking the both of you to come along," Nine Leagues Strides growls. "Now come on."
The interior of the treasure-house is quiet, and rather dark, though Nine Leagues Strides lights up her caste mark, the empty circle on her forehead throwing silvery illumination far enough to see. "The hall's actually wider and easier than I was afraid of," she adds, confident. "We shouldn't have to haul the crystal all the way out. I can go camel here and just run. If the Despot's as good as his word as far as not putting pursuit to me, we're basically home free."
It's good someone's feeling good about things.
You hush up and the No Moon extinguishes her light as you come upon a little guard station. In the light of a sickly green glowstone, two guards engage in that classic of pass times: gambling. It's a dice game of some description, and from beyond the circle of their light you see the two of them both scowling intently as they stare at seemingly uncooperative dice. Nine Leagues Strides gestures for you to take care of this. You are, after all, probably the stealthiest one.
You don't recognize the game. It's not just dice--there's tokens of various descriptions, too, meaning that it's a little more elaborate than just a roll and the immediate gain or loss of money. Befitting the inner line of defense, these two aren't just mortal. One of them has some magical jade that seems to be integrated into his neck. You have no idea what it does, exactly. The stockier one moves in the familiar steadiness of Five-Dragon Style, which means he's a supernatural martial artist.
Neither one of those is in your league. They don't even see your shadow-form in the emerald-tinged darkness of their room until you're on top of them. You seize them both by the back of their collars and slam their foreheads together with ringing force, then smash both of them against their table, tokens and dice bouncing away as the table cracks.
Stunned, they can't put up any real resistance. You keep the both of them off-balance and hurting, unable to resist or call out until the Lunars rejoin you, and with your help Nine Leagues Strides efficiently gags them and trusses them up. No killing or maiming the Despot's guards, after all.
She puts the two of them against one wall, where they might be moderately more comfortable until someone comes to set them loose or they manage to wiggle their way to freedom.
The two of you rejoin Ari, who is looking down three different hallways of sealed vaults. "I wonder what other treasures the Despot's got squirreled away down here?"
"Not a good time to go off-script, kiddo," Nine Leagues Strides says, her stolen Dragon-Blood face cuffing the back of his old-man head in a somewhat familiar sort of way.
"I know, I know." He ruefully rubs the back of his head.
The three of you make your way to the crystal's vault, the same path you took in putting it away. You locate the same specific vault with its heavy, solid doors and sorcerous locks and protection. Nine Leagues Strides approaches it confidently. Her forearms and Caste mark give off a glow as she begins channeling the Essence of the world to try to and bypass the wards. "Hm!" She cocks an eyebrow at it. "That's interesting." It's definitely not the good sort of interesting. "This has three layers of wards to bypass, and the third wasn't obvious until I got to this part. I guess the Despot actually didn't skimp. It'll take a bit to get through this."
Ari goes over to her, his own Caste mark glowing a silver crescent moon as he takes up the task alongside her, merging their sorcerous trickery in a fashion that looks practiced. As before, Ari ends up in his true form: his sorcery is based on truth, and thus can't be used outside of his real shape. The cute shape that--you cut the thought off. Their discussion turns technical almost immediately, as they work on slipping through the wards together.
You take up a lookout position, partway up the hall from them, still wreathed in obscuring shadows that hide your face. Behind you, Ari suggests the possibility of just opening a hole large enough to slip a small animal form through, and Nine Leagues Strides shoots it down by pointing out the need to get the crystal out.
After a few minutes, you hear voices. Not from the Lunars: the other direction. Two voices, too calm to be the guards having freed themselves. You practically subvocalize at your partners in crime a quick warning, speaking so quietly you can't even hear it yourself: company.
Ari and Nine Leagues Strides hush up, going to expressive body language to communicate, instead. What do we do? I want my prize; you handle it. But we were almost through!
You give them updates as you hear it: two intruders, probably one man and one woman by the voices. Discussing their luck in getting this far with no difficulty. Questioning where their prize is kept. You can confirm it's Deled's voice.
At the confirmation, Ari sort of cringes down. It's your mess, go clean it up. Nine Leagues Strides makes her point clearly with the use of a very precise hand gesture.
The Changing Moon looks to you, sighing deeply but silently. He gestures to give you two options. One is just jumping out and attacking them together. The other... I can distract them, if you prefer. He looks worried but confident: the distraction will work, but it may be hard on him.
[] Let Ari distract them.
[] Fight them with Ari
- Use Air Dragon Style
- Use sorcery
Right now, you are concealed in the shroud of your Day Caste anima, hiding your features. Air Dragon Style will make your identity clear, even if your face is obscured. Sorcery will hide who you are more, but will definitely make more of a mess.
Either way, it's thanks to having connected with Understanding Auris that you have the initial warning and now the drop on your pursuit.
[] It's just as easy to get clear as you'd hoped.
Some time ago...
This is simply not fair, Deled thinks to himself. Any heretic in the world that wants to betray the Immaculate Dragons seems to have no trouble pulling dark power out of thin air, but when one faithful son needs to take a single fell bargain for necessities, it's all but impossible.
Pelps Deled, Water Aspect Dragon-Blood and the Realm's Pinnacle of the Wyld Hunt, stands alone in a raksha's court. The fae noble is reclining on a pile of furs propped against the side of a spider-lion the size of an elephant. He's been sitting there quietly for a couple of minutes, not yet responding.
Deled has been reduced to this. Stabbed in the back by an Anathema who has stolen the face of an extended family member and attacked from the front by a beast with more brute strength than any Dragon-Blood, he lost his arm, and has been trying to find a replacement that will let him fight. Which brings him here, to the court of Spinner-of-Wonder, who is coyly considering Deled's latest entirely-too-generous offer in exchange for a gossamer arm that can't even stand the touch of cold iron.
However, before negotiations continue, there is an interruption. There's clamor at the entrance to the mostly-illusory palace that Spinner-of-Wonder claims as his own. Spinner sits up straight, the hookah he had been enjoying flickering and turning into a spear, instead. Deled turns to face that direction, too, to find a strange sight.
An albino woman on a strange, white mount rides in. A couple of hobgoblins try to bar her way, but she doesn't even respond to their words. She just puts the butt of her long, black scabbard into them, staving their foreheads in with one touch each, apparently without even thinking about it.
"What's the meaning of this?" The raksha noble demands.
The interloper barely gives him a look before she finds Peleps Deled, instead. "Hey," she says, by way of greeting. "People were saying there was a Wyld Hunt guy out here. That's you, right? Can I get you to help me find an Anathema I need to kill?"
The woman in white hops off her steed, clutching her weapon tight to her chest as if it were a precious thing she is afraid will be taken from her. Belatedly, Deled realizes her mount is no living creature. It is an animate skeleton with a saddle put on it to make it more comfortable to ride and, incongruously, what looks like luggage wedged into its ribcage.
The atmosphere in the raksha's court changes. "You think you can ignore me?" Spinner-of-Wonder gets to his feet, casually flourishing his spear in a complex pattern as he steps down from his dais, and the monstrous Wyld creature behind him heaves itself to its eight terrible, clawed feet. "You aren't the first hopped-up human hero to think me me an easy mark. Let me show you what the last Exalt discovered in his last moments."
Deled stands where he is, torn between his desire to step in between a presumed human and a fae monster on one end, and his own need for the fae on the other. For just a moment, he hesitates, for all that he knows he will throw himself in the way in a moment further. However, before he can take more than a single step forward, he is brought up short.
The woman turns towards the angered raksha lord, a black brand appearing on her forehead: the symbol of the Forsaken, those terrible warrior-generals of the Anathema. "Fuck off," she replies, simply.
With a world-shaking roar, the lion-spider attacks, leaping high in the air and aiming to crash down on the Forsaken with claws fit to disembowel a bear on any hit.
There is a terrible, wet ripping noise, all the worse for being so quiet compared to the roar. The creature collapses to the ground, inches short of her, its head and a foot or two of its torso torn apart vertically.
But that had been just a distraction. The raksha darted behind her while his pet served to hold her attention in a very dramatic fashion, and now he races in to skewer her before she realizes there's more than one threat.
Despite Spinner-of-Wonder's swiftness and silence, something seems to have given him away. An instant before the spearhead hits the woman in white, she blurs into motion.
Deled's eyes find her, just beyond Spinner. The fae man staggers, his spear having hit nothing, and she looks entirely unconcerned, her blade still sheathed. Or, no, sheathed again.
Blood seeps from Spinner's neck. Entirely around his neck. For a moment, Deled thinks she has shorn his head clean off, but the truth is harder to believe: in that brief instant, she had carefully cut a perfect circle, taking the weak spot from every angle before he could even realize she had struck, deep enough to cut the skin but not enough to kill.
It is impossible. No one is that fast, that precise. Spinner-of-Wonder chokes for a moment, then collapses to his knees, trying to staunch the flow of slightly iridescent blood with his hands. "You... I'll tell Queen Elegance about this!" His willingness to cross blades with her is gone.
The albino turns and takes two barefoot steps back towards him. She hooks the end of her scabbard under his chin to force him to look up at her. "Go ahead," she says, softly. "Go to your leader and confess you were defeated utterly. Tell her it was the Clochard of the Vermilion Trail. Or don't. Now, fuck off."
She lets his chin drop and turns her back, the raksha forgotten. She approaches Deled with a smile on her face. "So, anyway," the Clochard continues, as if the interruption had never happened, "There's this Anathema I've been assigned to kill. Named Vessel of the Mourning's Light Unyielding. Tall, pale, has a magic boomerang and used to be in charge of a place called the Lap."
Deled frowns at the black mark on her forehead. "You're Anathema, too, though."
The Clochard rolls her eyes. "Yes, I noticed. I'll kill you after him if you want, but can we target my guy first?"
Things click in Deled's head. Danaa'd truly hasn't forgotten him. Unbelievably, this woman is trying to target the same monster he must get his revenge on. The Dragons have given him his chance. "On one condition," he says. He gestures to his missing arm. "Find me a replacement. A real replacement, and I will as quickly and efficiently as possible help you kill this Anathema you seek."
Her hands clutch her black blade more closely as she considers this. "I'll need to talk to my boss, but I think we can do that. Good to do business with ya." Her smile broadens.
* * *
Here and now
There is a buzzing noise in the air. The three of you look up as a little messenger-sprite comes in to try to perch on your shoulder.
"I didn't know you knew any fairies," Nine Leagues Strides says, watching it.
"I didn't know that, either." The softly glowing creature alights, and considers you, apparently satisfied that it has reached its target.
"I bear a message from Understanding Auris, contracted through my mistress." That must be the raksha up the street, you realize: the Immaculate Temple that Understanding Auris oversees is within a stone's throw (at least, for someone with your throwing arm) of that place. "She says, 'Amphora, a warning. There was a Water Aspect shikari with a golden arm and a tall albino who arrived in town looking for someone of your description.' Message ends." The sprite discorporates entirely, turning into a multi-colored fog that fades in a few seconds as minuscule wind currents blow it away.
You frown and look at Ari. "Could that be Peleps Deled?"
"Who's that?"
It takes a moment to process. Of course Ari wouldn't know his name. Although you fought together with Ari against him, to Ari Deled was only a random foe, one of countless seemingly interchangeable Immaculate monks. "The monk we fought together. We cut his arm off. He must have found a replacement, somehow."
"Oh, him. Right. I'm more worried about the other one." Ari instinctively covers one of his eyes in a protective gesture. "That deathknight who almost cut my eye out was a tall albino."
"...Why would a devout Immaculate monk team up with a deathknight?"
"You're a devout Immaculate, and you've teamed up with two Lunars."
You hesitate. What the hell are you doing out here? "That's different," you reply, as you try to figure out how.
"I already regret asking the both of you to come along," Nine Leagues Strides growls. "Now come on."
The interior of the treasure-house is quiet, and rather dark, though Nine Leagues Strides lights up her caste mark, the empty circle on her forehead throwing silvery illumination far enough to see. "The hall's actually wider and easier than I was afraid of," she adds, confident. "We shouldn't have to haul the crystal all the way out. I can go camel here and just run. If the Despot's as good as his word as far as not putting pursuit to me, we're basically home free."
It's good someone's feeling good about things.
You hush up and the No Moon extinguishes her light as you come upon a little guard station. In the light of a sickly green glowstone, two guards engage in that classic of pass times: gambling. It's a dice game of some description, and from beyond the circle of their light you see the two of them both scowling intently as they stare at seemingly uncooperative dice. Nine Leagues Strides gestures for you to take care of this. You are, after all, probably the stealthiest one.
You don't recognize the game. It's not just dice--there's tokens of various descriptions, too, meaning that it's a little more elaborate than just a roll and the immediate gain or loss of money. Befitting the inner line of defense, these two aren't just mortal. One of them has some magical jade that seems to be integrated into his neck. You have no idea what it does, exactly. The stockier one moves in the familiar steadiness of Five-Dragon Style, which means he's a supernatural martial artist.
Neither one of those is in your league. They don't even see your shadow-form in the emerald-tinged darkness of their room until you're on top of them. You seize them both by the back of their collars and slam their foreheads together with ringing force, then smash both of them against their table, tokens and dice bouncing away as the table cracks.
Stunned, they can't put up any real resistance. You keep the both of them off-balance and hurting, unable to resist or call out until the Lunars rejoin you, and with your help Nine Leagues Strides efficiently gags them and trusses them up. No killing or maiming the Despot's guards, after all.
She puts the two of them against one wall, where they might be moderately more comfortable until someone comes to set them loose or they manage to wiggle their way to freedom.
The two of you rejoin Ari, who is looking down three different hallways of sealed vaults. "I wonder what other treasures the Despot's got squirreled away down here?"
"Not a good time to go off-script, kiddo," Nine Leagues Strides says, her stolen Dragon-Blood face cuffing the back of his old-man head in a somewhat familiar sort of way.
"I know, I know." He ruefully rubs the back of his head.
The three of you make your way to the crystal's vault, the same path you took in putting it away. You locate the same specific vault with its heavy, solid doors and sorcerous locks and protection. Nine Leagues Strides approaches it confidently. Her forearms and Caste mark give off a glow as she begins channeling the Essence of the world to try to and bypass the wards. "Hm!" She cocks an eyebrow at it. "That's interesting." It's definitely not the good sort of interesting. "This has three layers of wards to bypass, and the third wasn't obvious until I got to this part. I guess the Despot actually didn't skimp. It'll take a bit to get through this."
Ari goes over to her, his own Caste mark glowing a silver crescent moon as he takes up the task alongside her, merging their sorcerous trickery in a fashion that looks practiced. As before, Ari ends up in his true form: his sorcery is based on truth, and thus can't be used outside of his real shape. The cute shape that--you cut the thought off. Their discussion turns technical almost immediately, as they work on slipping through the wards together.
You take up a lookout position, partway up the hall from them, still wreathed in obscuring shadows that hide your face. Behind you, Ari suggests the possibility of just opening a hole large enough to slip a small animal form through, and Nine Leagues Strides shoots it down by pointing out the need to get the crystal out.
After a few minutes, you hear voices. Not from the Lunars: the other direction. Two voices, too calm to be the guards having freed themselves. You practically subvocalize at your partners in crime a quick warning, speaking so quietly you can't even hear it yourself: company.
Ari and Nine Leagues Strides hush up, going to expressive body language to communicate, instead. What do we do? I want my prize; you handle it. But we were almost through!
You give them updates as you hear it: two intruders, probably one man and one woman by the voices. Discussing their luck in getting this far with no difficulty. Questioning where their prize is kept. You can confirm it's Deled's voice.
At the confirmation, Ari sort of cringes down. It's your mess, go clean it up. Nine Leagues Strides makes her point clearly with the use of a very precise hand gesture.
The Changing Moon looks to you, sighing deeply but silently. He gestures to give you two options. One is just jumping out and attacking them together. The other... I can distract them, if you prefer. He looks worried but confident: the distraction will work, but it may be hard on him.
[] Let Ari distract them.
[] Fight them with Ari
- Use Air Dragon Style
- Use sorcery
Right now, you are concealed in the shroud of your Day Caste anima, hiding your features. Air Dragon Style will make your identity clear, even if your face is obscured. Sorcery will hide who you are more, but will definitely make more of a mess.
Either way, it's thanks to having connected with Understanding Auris that you have the initial warning and now the drop on your pursuit.
