CLOSED SIGNUPS Sagas of Wayward Suns - Arc 1

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Chaka

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Gentle River

The mercenary's engorged wrist cracks audibly as River drives his fist into it. The monster staggers back, roof tiles skittering away under its massive feet. Sheer awe is reflected in its eyes as River stands again, blazing with the light of the noonday sun as stylised golden serpents writhe around him in the air. He shakes his head, panting. His power is almost spent, but not yet. "It didn't have to go this way, you know."

He strides towards his foe, fatigue dropping away. The snakes in his anima draw back around his head in a ghastly crown, watching the mercenary with eyes of flame. Waiting.

"We just wanted to build something, you know? And your employers ruined that."

River kicks the mercenary under the kneecap, throwing him off balance.

"And you came so far, to prove yourself, to earn respect, but you weren't prepared. That's not your fault, really."

He kicks the other leg. The mercenary drops to his knees.

Drops of lightning drip from the snakes' slavering mouths.

"How could you be? Your monstrosity has been a bulwark, protecting and guaranteeing your victories. But you're a minnow, little one. And you finally caught a real monster."

The snakes rear back. River's right hand flexes into a rigid claw.

"Let me show you monstrous."

The snakes surge forward through the mercenary as River jabs into his throat, iron-hard fingers sinking through carapace and skin and muscle into the mercenary's tree-trunk neck...

River regenerated 5 motes at top of the turn. He's gonna sink all 7 of his remaining motes into this Decisive attack, plus a 3 die stunt granting +2 and 2 autosux. Dice pool is 18.





The mercenary's face remains expressionless as River's fingernails scrape spine. Without breaking eye contact, River deliberately wedges his other hand into the wound and pulls up, splitting the mercenary's neck open like it's hinged. Crimson spray gouts over his face, chest and arms. He drops the partially decapitated monster and turns away, candy-coated in blood from the waist up.

Always be what they want you to be.

River's mote-tapped completely, on full Willpower+2 and Initiative resets to 3.
 
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Sarky

They're good direwolves, Drozzt
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Ferat:

The sudden tying of a rope around the airship railings had not gone unnoticed by Ferat. With the tower destroyed, there was nowhere else nearby to make that shot. Probably Iskandr then. That was an exit sorted, anyway. But not before dealing with that accursed bell. Even now he could see it at the rear of the ship, a group of attendants preparing to strike again. The deck swayed slightly under his feet, the pilot no doubt levelling out after trying to shoot the Solar out of the sky. The implosion bow, the crew, or the bell? Why not all three?

Ferat nodded sadly at the mercenary's gesture. "I see. Well in that case, sir-"

Then he burst into action, divine power surging through his legs to leap some twenty feet into the air, the great bear of his anima rearing up as if to trample the whole crew. At the zenith of the leap, Ferat allowed himself just a flicker of a moment to take in the vista; Zala, bearing the ugly scar of the implosion bow; The carnage in the streets between demons, levies and Immaculate footsoldiers; He fancied he saw the sun's light sparkling off the table that had been set out the day the Circle had arrived in Zala. What a shame today could not be resolved with peaceful talks.

Ferat plummeted down on the side of the deck already leaning into the banking manoeuvre, bring both his smashfists down in a mighty overhead swing straight onto the deck, a powerful explosion of essence throwing the whole ship off-balance.

[gaining heigth with Monkey Leap Technique for 2m and using Heaven Thunder Hammer for 7m to attack the side of the airship in an attempt to flip it, or at least throw the bell overboard. Spending a WP for autosuccess, 8m on Brawl excellency for 8 dice, plus 2 dice and successes for 3pt stunt.

Ouch! Total 14 successes!
8personal, 1peripheral remaining
Initiative resets to 3]

As if hit by the fist of an angry god, the whole ship lurched, overturning, tossing everything not nailed down overboard.Ferat wasted no time, leaping from his prone landing to run along the sheer surface, dodging falling soldiers, weapons and crates before making a desperate leap for the rope tied to the railings...

[Dex+Athletics(+specialty), +2 dice for stunt, +1 success for WP. -2dice for difficult terrain, need 5 successes.

3 successes. Uh-oh.

... and missed by inches. "All things considered," Ferat thought as he plummeted down along with the crew of the ship a falling star surrounded by detritus, "this could probably have turned out worse..."
 
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Sideris

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So drama, violence. Dramatic violence. Death on a scale unseen in recent centuries. All of these things occurring at once across a city of living statues.

Then the airship gets coldcocked in the jaw.

Every single frozen and mobile soul on the ground that can see watches as an act of puissance not seen since the First Age smashes the deck of an airship into the vertical. The literal vertical standing in midair, its method of buoyancy still holding true. Crew and devices spill over the rails, screaming. You see the adamant shape of the Bell come tumbling off, two crew members holding on to it for dear life until it smashes through the roof of Zala's own bell tower, buckling the old stone, and sending both crumbling in a sublimely banal pealing in a great fountain of rock dust.

The Governor's Block is shrouded in eerie silence and piling dust.

One figure gracefully floats down from the ship and disappears in the dust covering the hill. The rest of the crew is a tangle of spilling bodies either hammering down the hill or vanishing into sudden silence in the dust.

And with a keening whale-like sound, the sleek hull of the ship itself shudders and falls like an icicle from the sky straight into a clump of administration buildings now hidden on the Block. There is deathly silence. Even the Immaculates and levies cease their combat to watch the spectacle.

Sarky Sarky

Scrabbling madness as the ground vaults upward as the new sky and the sky the new ground. Weightlessness grips you as you reach, reach for the rope and arrow from Iskandr...for mere inches and wrenching deck to slip your fingers. The goal is down and you're suddenly world-class. Not exactly the smoothest landing, but you're hurtling toward the sloping hill alongside the belltower. It'll take some of the edge off in the rolling fall. The rocks and that approaching flag pole, however, promise a little extra spice.

Impact. Searing red impact. Spinning worlds and choking dust. Suddenly, a great furred wall bumrushes into you, panting and snapping at your clothes trying to slow your descent down the hill.

A moment's recognition before you finally spiral out of this realm for a while. Shalla?

Ragoza Ragoza

The archer turns to watch the airship's end only to shake her head like a disappointed parent. Glancing at the elder Earth Immaculate still behind his student, she shrugs.

"No, don't you dare derelict--" he yells. Then pauses, confused.

In a not-flash of sapphire light, the archer Immaculate was never there. Strange. There were clearly three and yet not. Like a memory papered over in the telling years later. There are the two Immaculates who had assaulted the city and killed your turncoats. Both of them strained, but still resolute in the face of your thinning troops and against the loss of the airship.
 

Excession

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Radiant Shine

Purged of the paralytic pealing's influence, Shine bursts from the tavern with moustaches bristling in time to see Ferat fall through a roof.

Got a 6 for JackBauer, lemme know when I can commence the healing
 
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Excession Excession Hair Hair

You can follow Hammer straight out the door in all his Bronzed Glory. A great cloud of dust and smoke is suddenly pluming over the tiled roofs over the lower quarter of the city. The ground trembles briefly as you pass the scene of the Janissary last stand. As you move to head toward the square where Red is facing the Immaculates, both of you watch as a hulking, almost demonic looking body comes sailing down from a roof on the street adjacent next to the pinioned body of a dead Dragon-Blooded. River stands up there, bloodied but unbowed.

The Levies, Immaculates, and Sudden Surprises

The pitched battle turns against the levies. Another glittering sweep of his hammer and another scale of levies falls broken and dying. They break, the horrors endured already too much. Dropping weapons and shields and scattering to the winds, the remainder of the thoroughly trounced dragon of levies has had enough. Crying mock challenge, the younger Immaculate watches as a whirlwind anima of razor sharp flint buffets, wounds some of his fleeing attackers.

For a moment, calm.

The dust cloud is reaching high into the sky when the first bellowed order rings out. Men are moving among the few crew fallen from the skyship that you can see. Others, town guard, are forming up with glittering steel and outraged cries. The city itself is coming alive with shouts and screams of panic--the populace is freed! All the civilians caught in the crossfire immediately break for cover. None, at least in the square, have been hit for the sheer miracle of that statement.

Zala City Watch charges the younger of the Immaculates, swords raised and fury in their throats. Strangely, the air physically shifts around the elder Immaculate who so far had watched the proceedings. A hulking mass of blood red fur and elephantine muscle appears behind him, arms wide. The last Blood Ape. Mouth yawning open with yellowed fangs engulfs the elder's head at the same time the ermyanthoi's arms bear hug the Earth Aspect so he can't run away. Muffled shrieks can be barely heard above the new clatter of arms and the waking populace.
 
Resonant Hammer's Descent

Hammer surveys the city as he emerges, noting the crumpled bell tower and the plume of dust rising from the hill. The destruction of his home sinks deep into his soul, saddening and angering him all at once.

He lumbers forward, gathering speed as he bears down on the hammer-wielding Immaculate, his own humble tool's haft sliding through his fingers as he readies it. As he closes with the melee he roars at the town guard, instructing them away from the exalts. Then, with a crash, he's upon the armoured figure. Throwing a bronzed shoulder into his opponent's chest Hammer forces him back a step, opening space for him to bring his weapon to bear. His hammer swings up, catching the Earth Aspect across the chin, snapping his head back, as a spinning mandala of morphing artifacts erupts from Hammer's blazing Caste Mark.



Making a Smashing attack against the Immac not having his head chewed off. Hammer sacrifices 1 Defense and 2 Initiative, but if the attack succeeds the Immac will be knocked prone. Pool is 7, spending 3m on Excellent Strike, gaining 1 autosucc, and 5m on maxing out the rest of my Melee Excellency. Defence is 5, 2 point Stunt adds 2d, and a success, spending WP for a further success. Pool at 14, 3 autosuccs. Hammer also opposes some Major Intimacies with this action, rolling one Limit die.



Damage


 
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Excession

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Radiant Shine

Without hesitation, heedless of the chaos, Shine makes a beeline for the site of Ferat's fall. Perhaps they will build a water feature so named.
There are many wounded, and dying, but he resists the urge to stop and help. He is no stranger to the grim calculus of war.
 
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Excession Excession

Bounding through square and alley and shaded avenue until you burst out on the Green downwind of the devastated Governor’s Block. Dozens of unfrozen citizens flee around you, heedless of your pursuit.

He’s there amongst shattered stone and still bodies of the air crew, nestled in a groove of dirt cut from the fall. Shalla stands over him, fur bristled.

Hair Hair

Little bit of blood, little bit of spittle, maybe a bit of tooth flail out as he dunks on the cobbles. The Watch father about you, moving for killing strokes of their swords.
 
Iskandr

Well now. It would appear that my efforts are not super productive. Alas.

Not a muscle twitches on Iskandr's somewhat horsey yet boyish face.

And it didn't even help Ferat.

Stolid. Statuesque. Stonefaced. Other 'st' words.

Bollocks.

Nonetheless. Enemy forces remain active. Iskandr saw at least one figure drift down gently from the wreck, as opposed to plummeting to hideous injury among the broken bricks.

Given a chance, that fucker will blend into the city. Right now, they'll be covered in dust but not openly injured, they won't be wearing the same clothes as everyone else and won't have had a chance to seize a local disguise.

Finally, a razor sharp grin splits the hunter's pale face.

He's gone from Ba Sao's back, with a whisper of "Good lad, brave lad", and launches himself towards the rooftops, towards the surroundings of the fallen airship. With the momentary pause in the fighting around him, he vanishes into the dust cloud, taking cover above gutters and behind parapets, with all of his senses keening towards his target. They must not be permitted to escape. An arrow is nocked and ready.

[What I wanna do here is launch myself into the dust cloud, take to the rooftops, and re-enter stealth, before beginning to hunt the survivor. So, with that in mind, difficulties, penalties, stunt effects? Also, what did Iskandr see of the target before they vanished, given that he was watching the airship during the entire thing?]

[Cheers Sideris! So, that’s Dex + Stealth is 10 dice, -2 for injuries, -3 for stealthing in combat, +2 for stunt, +2 successes for stunt, spending 3m Peripheral on the minor Night Caste anima to cancel 3 dice of penalties, and spending 1m Peripheral for 1 die. That’s 11 dice and 2 auto successes.
https://rolz.org/embed?X37468059

That’s 8 total Stealth successes.

Then a Perception + Awareness roll, 7 dice at -2 penalty, back up to 7 dice +2 auto successes, plus a point of WP for a success, on looking for that survivor.
https://rolz.org/embed?X37468060

9 total successes on the Awareness roll.]

Initiative 3
WP 3
2m Peripheral, regain 5 at round’s end
7B
 
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Ragoza

Quarter goat on my mother's side.
Red Snow

What the FUCK?!

One moment the Wolf was bearing down on her prey, the next she's swinging her glaive through empty air. Burning fury overtakes the calm smolder of her battle-trance as she desperately tries and fails to remember the face of her opponent.
Magic. Cowardly fucking magic.
The bloodlust of a predator denied finally overwhelms the clarity of Red Snow's battle-trance. She spins, sees the Zala Guard and Hammer surrounding the younger immaculate, a demon tearing into the Elder. All sense of self is lost in the flame as the predator zeroes in on her prey.

Activating Excellent Strike for 3 motes and Iron Whirlwind Attack, modified by Invincible Fury of the Dawn, for 5 motes and one Willpower. IVFotD allows me to make up to 5 attacks across a single rangeband and grants me a bonus 5 initiative, for a total of 27.

Making attack number one, using 6 initiative, against the Elder Immaculate. Rolling Dex + Melee + Specialty for a total of 9. Excellent strike gives me an automatic success and allows me to reroll 1s until no 1s appear.


3 successes, beating the Immaculate's defence. Rolling damage and spending willpower for an automatic success.


3 successes, excluding the double ten, plus one auto for 4 damage.
Red Snow's Herald is lost in a bonfire of essence, shining like the first rays of dawn. It is the Red Queen who launches herself through the air, a crown of burning spears wreathing her wrathful visage. Essence carries her through the air and her terrible polearm slices into the Elder Immaculate's chest like dawn's rays through fog. The voice that tears from her throat is recognizable as Red's, but echoes with ancient, furious voices, the battle cries of long dead warlords.
"ZALA!"

Attack number 2. Same roll as the first

6 successes. Rolling damage. 6 initiative again.

4 successes. He ded.
The blade howls with joy, in the hands of a Queen again after so many years. The blade bites deep, piercing through armour, organs, spine. It's not until the point tastes air again that the Red Queen rips it downwards, shearing through the monk's pelvis and leaving a half-bisected corpse dangling from the blood ape's jaws.
"WILL!"

Attack 3. You know the drill.

3 successes plus one auto. Rolling damage, 5 initiative + 1 willpower.

One success, plus one auto from the willpower. 2 damage total.

The bonfire of essence surges into the air again as the Red Queen leaps. For a brief moment she hangs in the air, beautiful and terrible, and beholds the ruins of her kingdom. With the grace and might of a stooping eagle she descends, heavy boots crunching into the younger immaculate's chest as she lands beside Hammer, surrounded by her most loyal followers.
"NOT!"

Attack 4. Same as always.

1 success, plus 1 auto. Rerolling 1s.

3 successes total. Rolling damage, 5 initiative + 1 willpower.

1 success, plus one auto. 2 damage.

Warpaint of shining essence shines across her face and body, wreathing her in burning light. The blazing crown flares as the howling glaive descends into the monks' chest, bone cracking and blood spurting.

"KNEEL!"

Attack 5. Nearly there now.

4 successes. 5 initiative and 1 willpower to attack.

2 successes, including the auto from willpower. The GM assures me this is enough to kill the prick. Thank you for joining me on this brutal journey.

With a sickening crunch and spurt she pulls the blade from the monk's chest, readies it for the final blow. A true monarch carries out her own executions. As the hungry glaive falls, more final than any executioner's axe, she meets her prey's eyes. The Red Queen smiles. A single stroke severs the monk's head from his body, and in a smooth motion she grabs it by the hair, raises it to the sky.

"MEDO FOREVER!"
 
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FuzzMonster FuzzMonster

You are as dust. The wayward captain or crew member wore white, looked like a piece of down floating. Black hair, hooked nose. Arms out in a V, controlling descent before vanishing.

People stumble out of the smoke in confusion, completely ignorant of your presence. A dog races past you, silent.

Wailing, from somewhere deep in the block. Moaning bodies at your feet. The dead lay in pools of maroon below. Dust and smoke flows like water around a stone.

First thing you come across is a scattering of broken, leaking bags of meat that were Realm crewmen. The fall was traumatic to say the least.

Footprints, barely there in the dust, leading round the corner to the tumbled foundations of the Governor’s manor.
 
Iskandr

This is, of course, a ridiculous thing to be doing. Pursuing a deadly enemy through the wreckage before the dust has even settled is completely daft.

It is what Iskandr lives for. The stupidity and thrill of it sings along his ragged nerve endings.

As Iskandr moves through the wreckage, he is not merely silent. No, no. He is the movement of the wind, the settling of gravel, the moan of survivors, the rattle of broken bricks. His scarf is merely the flapping of a fallen flag. Three blind men left in a room with an elephant might find themselves describing its trunk as a serpent, or its tail as a rope, or its legs as pillars, but leave them to describe Iskandr's hunt and they would, all, say that he is the building itself as it sighs and collapses.

As Iskandr seeks height, his bow tenses, the arrow draws closer. Its fletching kisses his cheek, the flush of a stolen kiss, advantage taken in a filthy vantage point.

The huntsman finds his target. The arrow sings.

[Taking the shot: Dex 5 + Archery 5 + 1 Specialty +2 Medium Range +2 Stunt dice -2 Injuries -3 for dust. +1 success for stunt, +1 success for WP.
Activating Sight Without Eyes for 1m to cancel those sight penalties due to dust.
Spending 3m Peripheral on Archery dice.


That gets a pool of 16 dice and 2 successes. Iskandr wants to nail this young man to the wall behind him through the shoulder.]

https://rolz.org/embed?X37480998

That's a total of ten successes, plus permission from the GM to take this one narrative and finish out the scene.

The arrow hurls itself into him, brutally pinning him to the rubble...but leaving him alive. Aside from the pain of it, the Dragonblood feels strong hands frisking him, seizing his belt, his dagger, anything on him that might be a weapon. Those same strong hands leave the arrow embedded in him, but pull its head free of the rubble, snap it from the shaft, palm it away. Perhaps he cries out in pain. Perhaps he bites his lip and is defiant. Should this Dynast look at his captor, he will see cold blue eyes glaring out of a face otherwise wrapped in dark cloth. The Terrestrial finds his hands bound, and is hoisted and slung over the Anathema's shoulder.

Iskandr speaks in High Realm, as unaccented as possible.

"Come along, little Dragon. I'll not see you die needlessly here. Someday you'll answer for what you and yours have done here today. But not now."
 
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There is a victorious howl that overcomes sounds of panic and incredulity.inchoate anger from the throats of dozens gathered around the end of battle. Again that square is mother to a day which changed Zala.

The throaty shout echoes hollowly as it fades into the late day air. And vanishes in the smoke.

The only thing standing in the square is that table and those chairs, somehow missed in the shattering blows of the Immaculate hammer. Bodies are strewn everywhere. The remainder of the levies, those not torn with fear and horror are coming back to the glorious sight of Red and the godlike Hammer like summer moths reaching for the winter moon.

Iskander quietly returns with his prisoner, both looking as if they’ve been through hell. River, that bloodied wraith, repairs to the others as soon as possible. Ferat rests in Shine’s sure-handed care. He will stand tall again. Samea, winding down from rage, looks on at another legacy of the correspondence between the Realm and Solar Exalted.

Thousands of bewildered and hysterical citizens pack the square, looking at the destruction. Questions, pleas fly faster than arrows.

The gleaming hulk of the airship can be seen as the dust and smoke settles, the hulk the only large structure left upon the hill. Families and lovers wade through stone and cry out for the dead.

Tapestries of broken men and women occupy pockets of the city: the South Gate and adjacent streets; the Golden Square; the Governor’s Block; the Green Along the Tower. Some horrific, some merely tragic.

In the days to come, the toll will become apparent.

The expeditionary force brought and lost nearly four out of every five souls: some ninety deeply shaken souls are all that remain from the levies alone. More than four hundred soldiers and their cadre of Dragon-Blooded lords are dead.

Of the city? A grim note: four hundred died in the crash of the airship and subsequent collapse. A dozen souls, mostly are he extremely old or rare few young, died from shock of the bell’s effects. Dozens more are maimed by the chaos upon the hill and more still missing in the debris. The entirety of Zala’s bureaucracy and city records is effectively gone.

The days ahead are grim, but you are equal to the task. Hard questions will be asked by you, by your people, of your prisoners, of your place in the world. This is simply the lot of wayward souls in this Age. Change comes slowly enough. But in its season, it can seem like a flash flood to upset the course of countless lives.

And this was only the first breach of the riverbank.

End of chapter. All players take 12xp and 4 Solar xp.
 
Iskandr First Snow

Three days after the slaughter of the Wyld Hunt, Iskandr stands in one of Zala's squares, inside the southern gate. On a pike beside him is the head of the handsome shikari, the scorched arrow still protruding from his eyesocket, a jade obol rammed into his forehead. In the square in front of him stand a bunch of likely lads and lucky lasses. Noel over there is a grumpy old shit who got done for poaching one too many times and whom Iskandr personally hauled out of the cells. Marietta is a guardsman's daughter, one of the few people in town who was even slightly disappointed to see the more female oriented culture of the Realm driven out of Zala. She's scowling in split riding skirts. Ivorr isn't scowling. The youthful survivor of the levies is here because he saw the Anathema slaughter the demi-gods of the Realm, and like a fool in wings of wax, wants to fly closer to the sun. More than a dozen other malcontents and talented thieving shits stand waiting.





“The Anathema shine bright with the stolen light of the sun! Thus speaks the Immaculate creed and the warning it sounds.”


Iskandr snarls behind his scarf.


“No warning to this man, who came for a fight and found himself in a murder. The end of a Prince of the Earth, because he simply did not expect one arrow.
“My fellow Solars shine like the sun, and will raise their troops burnished in plate and glory. That is not what I am. That is not what we are. You will ride. You will hunt. Your glorious duel shall be a single arrow without warning. Your burning sword shall be a black dagger at midnight.”

Iskandr sweeps the scarf from his face and lets those present see him, and see the ghostly circle burning on his forehead in silver and bronze.


“Our battles will be won or lost before blade leaves the scabbard, before arrow touches string, all decided by skill, by grace, by choices made between heartbeats, in the dark where none can see you. Will you be brave? Will you be subtle? The emblem of Red Snow's Herald is the wolf of Zala, and she is mighty, but she must not stand alone. Will you be her silent packmates, to bring her the scent of Zala's enemies?”

He rips the obol from the forehead of the shikari.

“Take the coin, swear your service, and you will see demi-gods fall.”




What follows is more than a month of intensive training, supply, practice, testing. Iskandr finds his own skills rising to the challenge as he trains and outfits the corps of Zala's rangers and outriders. The stables set aside for them by Red Snow's Herald are busy, as patrols come and go, and Iskandr entertains himself by hunting his recruits, pushing their talents to the limit. He arms them, armours them, swears them to the cloak and the bow, teaches them unity with their mounts. In the evenings and spare moments, he fletches entire lots of arrows, prepares cloaks and badges, and forges a uniform for them, behind the emblem of a single wolf, peering through the long grass. His scouts eat what they can catch and forage. Their cloaks are lined with leathers and furs which they and Iskandr reap from the plains and woods. The clever hands of an Exalted hunter craft bows, tan hides, cut and stamp leather into saddle and tack, and harden it to form armour. As if by will and cunning, Iskandr brings a corps of rangers and scouts into being, instilled with the martial pride of Zala, and with a fierce loyalty to the promise of their new emblem.

Scout Logo.png



Other items on the agenda:


Report to Red and River on the progress of the scouting unit.

Assist with whatever the plan is for eventually sending that sad sole surviving DB back. Or, alternatively, not, if we're keeping him longer.

When Hammer is getting bhalls deep in the jade and Artifacts, Iskandr will creep into his study and show him the four pieces of Whispered Epitaph and ask for a professional opinion.

Recruit Ferat and Red for one or two training operations, partly to benefit the scouts in training, but also to get his fellow Solars out of the town walls for a bit, out among the long grass and low trees, feel the wind in their hair and the arrows between the leaves, all that jazz.

Attempt to avoid being sued by Hideo Kojima. Wear super tight pants which flatter Iskandr's taut buttocks. Smoke moodily and monologue about the military industrial complex.

Using Harmonious Presence Meditation plus a bunch of Stealth and Survival and Ride and Craft to basically instill some big old martial pride and loyalty in these arseholes, turn them into our own homegrown horsey-ninjas.


Spending XP as follows!

The scouting training, and the process of equipping them all serves as training time.
8 XP on Solar Dodge Charm: Reflex Sidestep Technique

3 XP on third dot of Craft (Leatherwork)

3 XP on first dot of Craft (Bow and Fletch)
1 XP on second dot of Craft (Bow and Fletch)

1 XP on second dot of Ride
 
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