CLOSED SIGNUPS Sagas of Wayward Suns - Arc 1

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Sideris

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#1
It begins like it always begins.

The horizon stretches out farther than belief under a blue dome of sky. Rags of cloud spoil this picturesque spring day, black bellied and promising mudsump roads and fields for any soul looking to travel. The sea of grass surrounding Zala sways in time with gentle wind.

Overhead, just a few spans removed from zenith, a star burns brightly enough to be seen in the afternoon sky.

Zala is an island amidst the Prairie Sea, which stretches from Port Calin in the south, races along the River of Tears northward past Sijan, up, up merging into the subdued steppe of Medo. Snaking Guild caravans creep over the horizon promising wares, news, and people from the East. Being one of the few cosmopolitan cities within Medo, these are common things. You'd have no trouble finding dealers peddling Chiaroscuran glass or dream peppers from Kamthahar or a rare serpentfolk from Ixcoatli.

Some of you* know of Zala, the 'False Smile of Medo.' The last stop before the true flavor of Medoan contempt for southron precincts and its people becomes pungent enough to permeate interactions.

Still, there are familiar sights of humanity. Like revolutionary zeal.

Like scarlet pennants bearing the Imperial Mon, which normally wave in the wind atop the governor's block, but now burn atop a pile of saddles and finery just outside the south city gates. A clutch of Medoan native troops are chucking nondescript bags and other items to the flames. Most look pleased, if tired. They wave cheerfully from the shadow of the city wall.

All foot and cart traffic slows to a crawl so to gape at the brass balls of the sight.

Particularly the well-read and/or Northern characters.

OOC thread.
 

Sarky

They're good direwolves, Drozzt
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#2
Ferat:

Whistling for Shalla to keep close, so as not to worry the other travellers, Ferat likewise slowed to take in the scene. He was certainly impressed at the brazenness of these people, openly defying the Realm was best done while standing rather nearer Lookshy. Then again, retribution wasn't as certain as it used to be; In his wandering since Thorns, he'd heard and seen a lot to suggest the great houses of the Realm were recalling their armies to the Blessed Isle in bids for the Scarlet Throne. It would probably mean civil war. It was a good thing, he decided, that the Blessed Isle was so far away, and the dynastic struggle would be focused there. The chaos caused by legions withdrawing from Threshold puppet states would be pleasant in comparison.

Ferat closed his eyes, centred himself, and took a deep breath, letting the essence of his surroundings flow through his senses, feeling them dance and come alive. The smell of the fires, the distant shouts of the rebels, the conversations and reactions of the onlookers, all became that much sharper and distinct. He stood staring at the act of defiance, absent-mindedly patting Shalla's flank, while he sifted through what he saw, smelled, and heard. Getting the lay of the land ahead would be important, if one wanted to avoid the trouble of saying the wrong thing or visiting the wrong part of a town recently fallen to rebellion.

Spending 5m personal essence for Sensory Acuity Prana, Awareness rolls get double 9s for the rest of the scene.
 

Hair

Edgepeasant
#3
Resonant Hammer's Descent
The straps Resonant Hammer's Descent's cart dig into his shoulders as he approaches the end of the long walk from his forge. He raises a hand to shift the weight a little, causing his latest wares to jingle a little as he does so. He makes his way towards the core of the disturbance, his bulk clearing the crowd more effectively than his timid demeanor ever could. He raises a gigantic hand to one of the gate guards he recognises.

"Ho, friend! Is revolution in the air? I had heard no whispers of it last time I was here, a few weeks back." He cocks his head slightly. "What's changed?"

A revolution needs arming. This might be my chance to work again. Truly work. He glances back at his cart, full of pots and sundry household tools. Blacksmithing is busy work. It keeps the wolf from the door. In more ways than one if ______ is to be believed. Wait, who told me that? I can remember the day, clear as crystal, but... He grips his head to ward off the oncoming headache, and looks to the guard for his answer.
 
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#4
Iskandr First Snow

Tucking a purse of silver within his clothes, and lighter for the bundle of furs of which he's been relieved, Iskandr pauses at the edge of the marketplace. He's been following the scent of burning cloth and leather, you see.

Oh dear. Oh chaps. Why.

Content to be a face in the crowd, Iskandr double checks for a moment to ensure that Epitaph is securely wrapped in its leather home, before chancing a look at the guards. Happy? Weary?

The governor has been recalled.

Iskandr cocks his head for a moment.

Or murdered.

Preparing to blend away into the crowd and vanish into the shifting grasslands, watchful for what may come, Iskandr is still for a moment as a huge man approaches the guards and openly blurts out 'Revolution?'

Friend, if they turn on you I'll cut someone out of their trousers, but you have got to be more discreet. That's not just the smell of burning fabric, that's the smell of suicidal rebellion in the air.


Also good work on those saddles, gone to waste. Absolutely no need for that. None whatsoever. Disgraceful.

[One step towards an Intimacy of 'Dramatic gestures are one thing, but wasteful ones are another.']
 

Chaka

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#5
Gentle River

At first, when the caravan stopped moving, River thought he'd been discovered. He hadn't reported in after that mortuary-priest in Sijan, and someone must have found the old pervert's love-nest - and what was left of the old pervert - by now. He had Exalted on the previous job and managed to keep his new nature hidden from the cult for a time, but when the job in Sijan came up he knew it was his chance to get out of Nexus and be free. No-one's puppet. He nervously twisted the unusual looking ring around on his left hand as he hopped down from the stopped spice caravan to see what the commotion was about.

Seeing what was burning made him almost wish Ajurda had found him, but still, seeing the Imperial Mon going up in flames spoke to his own desire for liberty. He strode calmly through the gawking onlookers to get a closer look at what was going on.
 

Ragoza

Quarter goat on my mother's side.
#6
Red Snow's Herald

How in the frozen hells do these people tolerate seeing nothing but fucking grass for miles around?

Red has been walking the cold prairie for a good three weeks now, and is heartily fucking sick of it. Still, her dreams have led her true and the city lies before her. She'll never admit it, but the sight is surprisingly intimidating.
As she approaches the city the signs of revolution become clear. The exact significance of the Imperial Mon burning is lost on her, but she gets the gist. She trudges around the Eastern wall of the city to the South gate to try and get a better look at the commotion.
 
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Sideris

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#7
Sarky Sarky

The city is a darkwood and brick blister on the plains. Wind whispers in the grasses, but as you focus other sounds cup to your ears. Jubilation. The sound of a thundering mob somewhere in the city blocks. Folk songs unfurled. And below it all, the weeping of fearful people huddled in their homes.

Hair Hair FuzzMonster FuzzMonster Chaka Chaka

"Tepet has recalled all their wayward children to Dezsofi*." The guard shrugs, removes his spiked battlecap. "Zala is free of the House That Would Yoke. These," his hand sweeps toward the bonfire, "are all that remain of their womanish presence**." Some surrounding folk, older citizens and the likewise solemn looking sorts, stomp their feet in agreement. "The horses shall see the horizon and run toward it once again! So says our new governor." A murmur passes among the crowd, the incoming caravan as each wagon and wain comes to see the sight.

FuzzMonster FuzzMonster

When you had sold your consignment of furs, there was an odd sullen tension to the transaction. The merchant made a few too many 'storm a brewin'' comments, even if the skies did promise rain later today. A few too many constables about and, at one point, a rather large crowd heading for one of the nearby public squares.

Chaka Chaka

A chunk of the crowd parts a bit in hushed awe at the sight of you. You hear a young boy whisper to a clutch of friends, "Thought he was a fae."

Ragoza Ragoza

In point of fact, there are small scenes like this occurring at each of the gates. Piles of saddles, pennants, and other detritus going up in flames, but this is the only gate with a crowd. The long worm of a Guild caravan stretches far toward the horizon, entering the city at a slug's pace. Each set of eyes in which is taking in the scene, the crowd, the fire. You approach after some sort of communal recognition, some stomping of feet. A man seems to be questioning the guards what happens here.

The capital of Medo.
Elements of old guard Medoan, a rabidly patriarchal branch, have chafed under the 'indignity' of being ruled by the women of the Isle for several centuries now.
 
#8
Iskandr

Like an arrow dropping neatly into a deer's eyesocket, the facts click home for Iskandr. His eyes narrow, and he lowers his stance, prepared to move.

They're about to murder the citizens who were well off under the Realm.

He moves through the crowd like a breeze, his knives loose in their sheathes, heading for the public square.

He breathes right past the prettiest man in the crowd, through the shadow of the hulking craftsman so loose with his tongue and - is that the crazy Icewalker slayer woman? -

The moment passes. Onward.
 

Chaka

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#9
Gentle River

Since his... change, River had often drawn attention this way. Just the murmur of an innocent child, but people in these parts were superstitious and the Fair Folk were enough of a problem that this could be an issue.

Smiling broadly, River laughs at the child's comment; a clear, musical sound. Hunkering down to be at eye-line, he gives the brat a mischievous smirk and shook his head. "I'm afraid not, little one. I'm as mortal as you are." As far as I know. I certainly used to be.

Drawing himself up to his full height, he nodded affably at the staring bystanders and began moving casually away, in the general direction of the odd-looking giant with the pots and pans and towards the town itself, as though he had no cares in all the world.
 

Ragoza

Quarter goat on my mother's side.
#10
Red Snow's Herald

Let the merchants haggle, there's clearly something important happening here. Red saunters past the gate guards, making sure to look too confident to bother questioning. She can smell the tension in the air, as sharp and heavy as the moments before battle. Red may not know the city, but she knows well when blood is about to be shed. She turns to the man nearest her, about to ask what happened when she catches a glimpse of a familiar face.
What are the fucking odds, I owe that bastard a scar.
She approaches the Northerner , paying the giant and the prettyboy no heed as she lays a hand on his shoulder
"I'll consider not punching you if you can tell me what's going on."
 
#11
Iskandr

Oh fuck.

Iskandr turns to the slayer.

"This town just rebelled against the Realm and the townsfolk are about to exercise their grudges by murdering those who were comfortable under the Empress."

He considers for a moment.

"Murdering folks who survived winters alongside you strikes me as a poor start to a rebellion. There will always be bastards who have it coming, there has to be a little blood spilled, but one drop heralds the storm, and the storm cares not for the guilty or the innocent."
 

Sarky

They're good direwolves, Drozzt
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#12
Ferat:

Ah. So the glorious revolution is still young and bloodthirsty. They'll butcher a weeping child as happily as a corrupt tax collector. Cowards.

Ferat grimaced and took a moment to weigh his options. Avoiding trouble was good. But letting innocents die was very plainly not. If these rebels just replace once oppression with another, nothing changes, even if the Realm never returns. They would be no better than the murdering ghosts and corpse-warriors who sacked Thorns. Worse, even, as there was no mad sorcerer king compelling these people.

He spat and sighed. "Shalla, watch my back. I'm doing something stupid again."

The wolf snorted agreement, with a hint of resignation that suggested "Really? Again?" and followed close behind her companion as he checked the straps and buckles on his smashfists were secure, before concealing them again in his fur cloak and heading towards the worst of the commotion at a jog.
 
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Ragoza

Quarter goat on my mother's side.
#13
Red Snow's Herald

WEAK. FUCKING. COWARDS.

"Chief goes away, young bucks try and prey on the weak to enhance their own strength. Had a brother like that."

The strangled gurgle as he slumped, spear haft holding him on his knees. The bag of loot falling from limp hands.

"So am I causing a scene by myself or are you gonna be joining me?"
 
#14
Iskandr

"Joining you? No. Assisting you, certainly. I'll slip around and prevent them from killing any children. Perhaps avoid killing town guards? Blunting the edge of the fury for one day will save the most innocent."

Iskandr is in the wind, moving upwards inside the walls, clambering to the second storeys and rooves of the dark timber houses.
 

Hair

Edgepeasant
#15
Resonant Hammer's Descent

"Glorious news, brother!" Resonant Hammer's Descent replies, oblivious to the drama unfolding just beyond the gates. "Who might this new Governor be? Anyone I might be familiar with?"

He casts a quick glance about himself, suddenly conscious that he had become the center of attention. His gaze catches on the young man heading into Zala (how could it not), and the pair of Northerners having a whispered conversation in the shadow of the gate.

"Mayhaps I should go and seek an audience with them, assuming they're not too busy, of course."

Resonant Hammer turns to enter the town, feeling at his belt for his hammers. Towns undergoing changes of leadership would likely be volatile. The young Northerner taking off up the wall captures his gaze as he passes the gate, and the grim look on the woman by the gate gives him pause.

"Ho, friend. What's the commotion? Your companion seems to be in a bit of a hurry."
 

Chaka

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#16
Gentle River

As he strides through the Zala gate, River notices the commotion going on. He sees the giant man come past him and start speaking to a grim-looking Northern woman as the young, wild looking man she was speaking to darts up the walls at rapid speed. Something is definitely off here. There's a bloodthirsty edge to the crowd. Furtively River begins moving past the strange-looking trio, scanning the crowd for signs of trouble. For a moment he locks eyes with a haunted-looking man with his hands hidden under his cloak and a large houndnowaitfuckmethat'safuckingwolf and everything TILTS

She is standing on a parapet of ruby glass, impossibly high, watching the city burn. The glass towers have stood since before Olcan Ravenborn carried her shard and now at the end, it's all over. They're coming and she is wounded, Her power almost spent. Chosen of the Sun, but only to die betrayed and alone. As she sinks down against the parapet, clutching at her grimcleaver, she sees him come for her, as he swore he always would. Still clad in his golden armour, a dozen jade-tipped arrows piercing the chestplate, he smiles at her and it's full of blood, though he stands tall. She can't quite make out his face in the dark, but he reaches out his hand to help her up and-

-and River almost falls from the shock of the eye contact, reaching towards someone who isn't there. Except that is him, in the crowd. Swiftly, River composes himself, fighting down the urge to vomit and ignoring the phantom pain of wounds lifetimes old. But he just stands in the street and stares.
 
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Sideris

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#17
FuzzMonster FuzzMonster

A mere moment’s action and the city sprawls out before you, steadily climbing with the land. The governor’s blocks loom above the city on the central hills dominating Zala. Besides the demonstrations outside the gates, only banners of scullery smoke wave from chimneys.

People in small contingents file down the streets, rousing countrymen out for their share of “the accounting.” Streets away you can hear louder, more passionate calls to action along with the shattering of windows.

Constables move in their own dense thickets, avoiding the aggregating mob.
 

Sideris

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#18
Sarky Sarky

Definitely feels like the climactic stage of whatever this blitz for sovereignty is.

Subdued when juxtaposed with Thorns, almost pleasant for the sheer banal horror.

Shouts. Glass breaks. Louder and louder until you hook down an avenue of once-richly appointed homes and businesses. Hundreds of people are ransacking townhouses and shouting abuse at the former residents, huddled, pelted with rotten vegetables and dung, some of the elder women being shorn of their hair by wild-eyed citizens.
 

Ragoza

Quarter goat on my mother's side.
#19
Fuck me you're big.

"He, uh, had to go find his, uh, fuck. Look, this place is about to explode and we're gonna try and stop it getting too ugly. With violence. You in?"

Red barely pauses for a response before striding towards the bonfire.
 
#20
Iskandr

To hell with it.

Iskandr crosses the rooftops, the pad of his feet light and soundless, a blunt tipped fowling arrow nocked to his bow.

You laughed when you gave me this. Was this what you had in mind when you chuckled to yourself?

On the roof above the streets of the governor’s block, he draws and takes aim, breathing deep the essence of the world around him, before loosing the arrow to the great bronze bell in the tower upon the hill. The arrow flies straight and true, striking home like a hammer, ringing a terrible, sonorous note over the incipient carnage below.

On the rooftop, Iskandr’s anima catches light. When the people below look up, they will not see Iskandr. They will see the Archer, a ragged and antlered figure, outlined in a haze and silhouetted against the midday sun.

He holds the bow high, and howls to the people below.

“FEED! THE HUNGRY!
SHELTER! THE WEAK!”


“How does this feed the hungry?! How does this shelter the weak?! When winter comes, will you feel pride in your actions this day?”


[Archery pool starts at 13, and cashing in 10 more dice from Excellency plus adding Graceful Crane, pouring it all into the anima. How does this site dice roller work, it seems to only roll one die at a time?

Social stunt?]
 
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