The Dragons' Run - Act 1

Yvara

Sitting on the dock, meditatively watching the world go by, chewing over the case, and, above all else, waiting for Seréa to wake from her beating, Yvara considers. No matter what comes, it is to be accepted. To rage against the dying day is heroic. To deny that it is dying is foolish. Nonetheless, this day is not yet dying. This day is Good. Such is her judgement, and (a smile creeps across her face) judgement is her business.

Her cheerful reverie is broken, however, by the arrival of...a friend. Ally. Nuisance. Secret throbbing of the heart, perhaps.

The sail on Wei's boat rattles in the breeze as the rock departs Yvara's hand and *thwaps* firmly into the middle of the canvas.

"Get your ass over here, Wei! I'll write the warrant while you tie up, motherfucker!"
 
Wei Lwyn

"
But I have to be suuuuure, when I walk out that dooooor!"

Wei strikes what he believes to be a suitably dignified pose on the ship's prow as it drifts haphazardly into port, in spite of both his and Maatre's best efforts to sinks, belting out a drinking song from his home village. One foot op on the prow, bottle of wine in hand, hair loose in the wind and shirt open just enough, he's got his entrance all figured out. So focused is he on his entrance, in fact, that he's taken completely by surprise by Yvara's rock whistling over his head and nearly falls overboard, grabbing the railing at the last second.

"Oooooooohh how I want to breeeaaaak fr-FUCK!"
 
Maatre

Shocked awake by Wei's yell, Maatre groggily takes up the song. "You're so self-satisfied--hurk--" He's rolled from his impromptu bunk by a soft comber in the harbor and splashes into the few inches of murk that's seeped into the boat. He'd honestly expected to wake up dead and look up at a roofed-over world from the bottom of a sea trench. Another day alive! Gods be praised!

"Please tell me we're there--oh." Seeing the breadth of the city there before them, Maatre was glad of heart. It meant no more of this foul vinegar Wei called wine.
 
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Abyss' Black Reach

Abyss rises in the late morning to the clash of training weapons. As instructed, her marines had begun drills in a small Banoron compound towards the edge of town. The word should also have been put out that she was looking to hire both sailors and fighters. Though it would take years for her to train anyone to the level of her current force having an auxiliary troop would be invaluable, and would serve as a selection device for candidates to put forward for further training. Being able to field both her ships simultaneously would be a significant force multiplication as well.

After a quick warm up she joins the training soldiers, reminding them Serpents can fight. The strategies she had developed for them were executed well, if not perfectly. After giving a few tips she runs them through a few drills, withdrawing as an anima flared, flanking support maneuvers, before heading for the Great Hearth for the meeting.
 
Wei Lwynn

The sudden shift in weight from Wei hanging off the railing is enough to shift the rickety dinghy's already erratic course into the dock, sending the prow swinging into the stone jetty. Our hero just about manages to avoid being battered against the wall, scrambling up to the dock with no greater casualties than his wounded pride. He spots Yvara giving him a look and attempts to regain his composure.
"Ahem. Good morning magistrate. I promise to come quietly but politely request you buy me a drink before breaking out the manacles."

Nailed it. Sadly Wei has no chance to bask in his shining wit, as the sound of breaking timbers and rushing water fills the air.

"Uh, Maarte. Might be time to make an emergency exit. Save the keg please."
 
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Yvara

Her frown holds for about two and a half heartbeats before morphing into a sunny smile as she flows across the distance and seizes Wei in a hug. Yvara takes him off his feet and spins him around and then gently leaves him back down on his feet. Hopefully not too dizzy.

"Wei! It's good to see you, I had no idea you might be here. Welcome to Stormledge, in the Banoron territory, and also, welcome to the early days of disaster."

She glances over his shoulder at the sadly disturbed dinghy and its sole remaining heroic inhabitant.

"Hello! I'm Yvara!"
 
Maatre

Captain’s Log: situation dire, crew has abandoned ship, water rapidly gushing in via gunwales caused by crew inability to avoid big goddamned rocks. There remains only empty bottles, Wei’s keg pisswater wine and my cask of Coralese brandy liberated from Dessik’s private store.

Gods save this ravaged dinghy.


With a nimble step off the nearly sunken prow, Maatre dips into a bow as soon as feet touch the jetty. “Maatre, if you please.” Rising with the utmost dignity, he spins on heel to watch the funeral of their boat.

The dinghy bubbles into the shallows bellow. He looks to Wei grimly, almost apologetic. “The brine can only help that used bathwater you call wine.”
 
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Yvara

This hug has an arm free, and can rotate a little. Thus, this can become Yvara with an arm around each of their shoulders, with the three of them facing the sadly sinking boat.

“Good sir Maatre, let us share a moment’s silence for your boat, and your barrel of piss wine. As a magistrate of the Tribunal, I adjudicate that this boat sinking is accidental, and none are to be fined. Let me bring you fine gentlemen for more, and better, wine.”
 
As the dinghy begins to sink, a furious old man storms out of the harbourmaster's office. "Look what you did!" In heavily accented Seatongue he begins questioning Wei and Maatre's intelligence, seafaring prowess, parentage, and ability to walk and breathe simultaneously. "Who is going to dredge this up?!?" He runs out of Steam, then clocks he's chewing out two Dragon-Blooded and their presumably mortal friend, gulps, and flees back inside.

A small crowd, formed to watch the street theatre, begins going about their business.
 
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Wei Lwyn

Wei looks on in abject misery as a perfectly fine keg of not-quite-vinegar-yet goes to it's watery grave. Gwynt remains perched calmly on the mast until the very last moment, before lazily fluttering up and taking up position on a dockside barrel.
"I mean, when you take into consideration that neither of us really know how to sail I think we're to be applauded. Borrow some cash, Yvara? I'll owe you a cup."
Coins in hand he nips into the harbormaster's office, leaving money for the dredging fee and promising to be there at the crack of noon tomorrow to help clean up this mess, before catching up with the other two.
 
Maatre

“Fair.” He easily hefts the brandy cask with a smile. “Have to know what the important things in life are, even chance.”
 
@Ragoza @Sideris @FuzzMonster

There's still a few hours to kill before Yvara needs to attend Lesanda in the Great Hearth, so a quick tipple won't kill anyone. The best place to go is right near the Great Hearth as it happens anyway, which works out rather well - and it is this way that Yvara and the others head as they seek a hot meal and a cold beer in these trying times.

The Great Hearth is a large, five-storey stone building in the centre of Stormledge. Surrounded by walled gardens and leafy walkways, this First Age complex pales in comparison to the pleasure palaces of the Realm, but is still the most impressive building that Wei has ever seen in his life. In front of the main gates to the Hearth compound is the Plaza of the Broken Moon, a bustling hubbub of trade and activity, loud with hawkers and traders selling wares and ringed around with finer establishments trading in gold, fine jewels, weapons, and all the exotic pleasures of the West. These are not what first catch your attention, however, for at the heart of the Plaza is a monument equal to anywhere in Creation.

The Tomb of Bann is a wonder of architecture and sorcery, constructed just after the Sundering. a wide, low-lipped pool of water, still and sparkling in the spring sun, takes up the centre of the Plaza. It is circular, and shining white marble from the rim to the base of the pool. Despite its age and public position it is unblemished and undamaged, as though it was built yesterday. The depth of the pool increases from ankle-deep at the edges to over a dozen feet deep at the centre in an inverted step pyramid and an ornate, black jade sarcophagus is clearly visible through the glass-clear water at the lowest point. On the surface directly above the sarcophagus in the centre of the pool the otherwise perfectly still water twists and whirls upwards into a sculpture of constantly shifting liquid. In defiance of nature and time the water forms a sculpture as clear and solid as though it was carved from marble, and light refracting through the water in mad and dizzying patterns seems to illuminate each detail of the sculpture clearly.

It is the form of a young woman, wiry and lithe and wearing archaic pre-Shogunate armour. Her face is regal, yet sad, and she faces away from the Hearth towards the sea as though she means to single-handedly defend it from all comers. Her hair is in a braid down her back to her waist, and each strand is clearly visible and differentiated in the water. She holds a kama loosely in either hand, and she is barefoot. Something of the face reminds you of Abyss, and of Lesanda, but only from certain angles. The sculpture is so realistic and finely detailed that it is like this woman walked across the surface of the water to the centre and allowed it to replace every part of her body. It looks like it could move or speak at any moment, and you know instinctively the Working that created this monument has sustained it for over a millennium.

This, then, is the final resting place of Caerdath Bann, the Tempest of Éa, the mother of the bloodline within Gens Caerdath that would one day split off and form a clan in its own right. Every child in Lastland knows the story of Bann's sacrifice; that she and Caerdath Vinret accepted the Ríastrad from the sorceress Éa in the days before the Sundering even as Éa herself begged them not to, sacrificing their own lives for the power they needed to defend her from the Usurpers as she completed the great work that Sundered Lastland and saved its people.

For a moment, you feel the weight of ages on you, of a history that goes back beyond anything you can imagine, as you gaze into the sad eyes of an ancient hero. Then, it's gone.

There's a tavern called Smiley's nearby. It's clean, doesn't water down its beer, and does a mean steak. It'll do.
 
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Jensa:

Despite the threat of an idiot manipulating the islands into potential war with the Realm, the last few days had been most agreeable for Jensa. The Banoron Great Hearth was a match for the style and luxuries of its Caerdath counterpart, and the Tomb of Ban itself was simply breathtaking. She had come outside to stare at it several times, the simple majesty of it was relaxing to her. And the story of its occupant a potent reminder that while different clans could feud and even go to war, they were all Lastlanders. She hoped that Caerdath's and Banoron's leaders would both remember to put personal rivalries aside while the Red Serpents threatened everyone equally.

The lack of orders from her superiors was a pleasant change too, and she could perform for the sheer joy of it, which is exactly what she did. She had come across a tavern called Smiley's near the Great Hearth the day before, and had enjoyed the food and ambience. Today, there was to be an up-and-coming zhonghu musician providing a pleasant background to the conversation and merriment. Initially to her dismay, she was recognised by the young man and his notes faltered, but he recovered with clever words and a humble request to play alongside him, which tickled her fancy as most islanders knew her purely for her dancing. And so he produced a second instrument, tuned an octave higher, and they began a playful duet, much to the delight of the tavern patrons, who ordered more beer, and of the tavern owner, who happily accepted their money.

They were about half way through when Jensa noticed Yvara enter in the company of two rather burly strangers. She smirked at the potential gossip such a scene might provoke. Her musical partner smirked back, thinking they were flirting. Well, he has a quick with and deft fingers, maybe we ARE flirting...
 
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Maatre

He paused briefly before they walked through Smiley's door. Stared at the statue for a moment longer than he expected. The prismatic grandeur of the light filtering through the sorcerous waters shifted, became rosy skin, became eyes like a hurricane. Something very old stirred the depths of his mind.

I knew you.

And then it's gone, deja vu. Swiftly forgotten. The music was spilling through the door. "Live music? And here they said the provincials had no stomach for pleasure outside of toiling for pearls."
 
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Wei Lwyn

The statue doesn't have quite the same impact on Wei, not being local to the islands, but it's a powerful monument nonetheless. He's been around long enough to know the story, and makes a point of saluting her as they pass. The sound of music and smell of food rolls out the door of Smileys and sets his stomach rumbling as the approach. With a grin he links arms with Yvara and steers her towards the door.
 
@Ragoza @Sideris @Sarky @FuzzMonster

The tavern is large, well-lit and spacious, and though it's just after the lunchtime rush you have no problem finding a table. Jensa is performing with a handsome young man who is clearly besotted with her, and she's drawn a small crowd. A barmaid will come around to take your orders, then leave you in peace to talk.

The stonework of the building itself is clearly ancient, probably as old as The Great Hearth itself, but scrupulously maintained. The rushes on the floor are clean, obviously regularly changed. No dive bar, then.

@Sideris

The sensation of familiarity here is almost overwhelming. You've been here before, and often. As you try to adjust you hear voices you swear you recognise...

When you crane your neck to see, there's a small group of soldiers, off-duty and blowing off steam, in the middle of some game involving dice and coloured pebbles a few tables away. They're laughing and shouting raucously in a language you don't understand, but no-one else seems to pay them any mind. Something about them is so familiar to you, but you can't seem to see their faces. Their armour is strange, very old. Just like the statue outside. Then, one of them notices you. Sees you.

Caerdath Bann looks straight at you, smiling mischievously. Time around you slows to a complete stop for a moment, then she speaks. "Jarri gurekin edari bat, jauna? Ez dizut Éa emango!"

She raises a tankard in salute, but when you blink, they're gone, leaving a profound sense of loss behind. Your friends.
 
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Yvara

You know what you can get on a big island that is really expensive everywhere else in Lastland? Motherfucking beef skewers!

And also, there can be good ale. Yvara splurges, out of generosity and a desire to impress Wei, and orders an imported bottle of southern wine.

That sorted, she’ll scooch in close to the table in their wee corner and offer forth the big grin of companionship renewed.

“Wei, it’s so wonderful to see you here! Where have you been most recent? I’ll need to swing through, collect the accounts of the survivors, and fill out the various warrants for arrest and fines. In the meantime, I sentence you to fifteen hard words of introduction to your traveling companion, the honourable Maatre.”

Yvara may or may not be batting her eyelashes at Wei, and gently waving around beef skewers and wine cups.
 
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Wei Lwyn

Yvara's good mood is always infectious. We can't help but grin as she narrowly avoids sending a chunk of beef flying off the end of her skewer.

"Harsh but fair, magistrate. Maatre, you find yourself sitting in the impromptu court of Magistrate Yvara, stern enforcer of law and order. I personally stand accused of public intoxication, conspiracy to commit public intoxication and improper docking of a leaky boat. Will you stand for me as my witness?"

Wei might be flirting just a little bit.
 
Maatre

Blinking away the waking dream, Maatre turns to the two. "I shall. I've stood it twice before and we've only known one another a little over a month. The feathers in the pillows here probably cawed less in life than you do." He does light up at the sight of cooked meat, though. "A pleasure, Yvara. I've heard some of Lastland in my life, but this will be a first visit. I don't really recall crossing into your territorial waters. We were quite drunk and trying to shout down a skyship for a ride... Which I realize now was just a very nice looking bit of cloud."

It was strange the way those flashes of memory? Dream? would come and go so easily. It was already slipping away, but he could somehow feel the reply on his lips. He smiled. It was none too polite to good Bann.
 
Yvara

She offers a wry smile.

"You are welcome to our lovely isles, and I hope you'll come to love the people of this weird little collection of rocks as much as I do. That said...you've come at an odd time. Maatre, might I ask your profession? Are you by any chance a fearless investigator, enchanting singer, or perhaps a handsome drunken layabout with a talent for archery and trouble making?"

She leans back.

"We may be at some small, minor, teeny tiny, technical definition of war."