ꙮ Another bright, moonlit night in the Citadel of Valais. You’re not yet entirely clear on the process or point at which today becomes yesterday, here, although there’s a bell in the barracks that rings watch-changes. You’ve slept when you’re tired, eaten meals when they’re served, sometimes with the guards - but there’s going to be food at the High Echelon gala you’re preparing for tonight, or so you’ve been told. The Guard-Captain told you that he’d be meeting you there, and that you should gather together; also, that it’s traditional to arrive at the function in your finery, so the seven of you will get the chance to see what you’re wearing, first!
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- Luĉja, The Clockwork Knight (Yan Knot)
- Qarina, the Weapon
- Yan Lion Aurelius
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#full cast session
#chapter 6: valais
#tana'loof
#nnn
arrives in a black tuxedo, coattails and all. He wears an azure vest under the coat, white button-down underneath, and a small black bowtie. He wears a mask- intricate silver filigree in spiderwebbing geometries, inlaid with black enamel, and a riotous mane of black feathers around it. Silver lining caresses his shiny black dress shoes. A silver chain pokes out from a vest pocket, attached to the inside his coat.
is normally calmly sitting in whatever common room Clan Emberlight has, far earlier than most humans would consider reasonable. This time, their ivory and gold statue is there, one hand touching the tablet, the other holding Casid’s leash on a very short lead.
is preceded by the sharp click of boot-heels on stone; and then he enters on the heels of his own footsteps. At first glance, his clothes are…plain. A black suit-jacket that hangs to his knees over a black vest, with a black cravat around his throat; black pants and black boots…but on second glance… ⁂
is on the other end of the scale from The Prince - he’s still wearing the armor he made for himself in the Beast, though he’s wearing the red scarf from Mu as well. He hasn’t completely failed the assignment, however, as there’s a then red band of some strange material that runs around the front of his race and rest upon his nose, slightly blackened around the eyes and with the edges on the side of his face flairing upwards.
appears in gleaming white linen embroidered with geometric gold details. An asymmetrical white overcoat with a short capelet built into the back that leaves one arm bare, with a gold scarf tied around his bicep, fastened with a clasp showing a cactus flower with a sunburst pattern behind it, gifted him by Qarina; the other sleeve extends down to the elbow where it meets an elbow-length fingerless glove of white leather. The coat is worn over a structured vest, in turn worn over a high-collared shirt clasped with a pin gifted to him by Ravhi, when he first learned to heal; a golden snake wrapped around a rod. The coat is cinched with white and gold braided cords. Fitted white pants, with a pair of gold bands encircling the right thigh, extend down to the calf, leaving his feet and claws bare. Upon his face, a mask in the same white as the cloth, with matching gold geometric details. The center is made to look like the head of a dragon, horns rising up towards his own, and with dragon’s wings flaring out to wrap the sides of his head, with gold details inlaid in the wings.
Black on black, his outfit is—but no two types of black alike; silk that shines at his cuffs, curlicues of black like smoke in the dark across his vest, black so deep it purples under his chin and around his throat; the leather of his boots is polished to a nearly liquid sheen, too, as if his feet were wrapped in the ocean’s depths. He’s found a barber somewhere too–sideburns shaved to sharp points, just the barest ghost of stubble on his chin, cheekbones standing out like knives beneath dark brows; hair pulled back into a sleek, severe queue that hugs the back of his neck beneath his collar. The only color to his outfit are the two blood-red rubies at his cuffs, and the larger ruby pinning his cravat closed, catching the light like a heart at his throat–and his mask, hung from his hip by a cord. ⁂
’s mask is smooth, almost unornamented, and painted the color of cooling blood. The forehead is sculpted into a permanent scowl, the sides of it almost seeming to drip down his face like paint, each culminating in a point that would nestle dangerously against his cheeks and frame his mouth. Two thin strips of white curve across it, arching over the forehead and down across each eye. 🙧
wears a sleeveless black gown with a plunging neckline and low, low black, cut close to her hips and flaring out into a riot of diaphanous, trailing fabric. Around her neck is a complex silverwork necklace of webbing, spreading over her bare shoulders and all the way down her bare back, weighted with amethyst teardrop gems. The webbing continues onto the dress, beaded onto the fabric with tiny obsidian beads. Instead of a mask, she wears a blindfold of layered black lace, enchanted so that you cannot see her eyes. Or, that isn’t quite right—you can see her eyes through the lace, except sometimes she has two, and sometimes she has eight, and sometimes they burn like fire and sometimes they are deep, obsidian pools. More of the silverwork webbing weighted with amethyst drops extend from the blindfold, creating a veil over the rest of her face. Her hair is braided up into an intricate bun, with eight round, polished gems set into a crown that gleam blacker than black and deepest purple. A halo of the same silverwork webbing arcs around her head, giving her several inches of extra height. ⁂
’s core piece, though, is a large porcelain and silver spider fiend that sits on her chest, heavy with silver filigree. Its legs span her clavicle and its amethyst eyes gleam as it tilts its head around. It crawls down the beaded webbing of her dress, and to the side of her hip, before returning to its initial position. Diaphanous white silk hands from the silverwork necklace, attached to her wrists by two smaller spiders that wrap their long legs around her wrist. The same length of white silk trails behind her, dipping low enough between her shoulder blades to show off the webbing and leave her back bare, and long enough to trail on the ground. 🙧
walks into the room, appreciatively looking over everyone’s sartorial choices for the evening. The first thing you notice is that his demeanor seems different than usual - proud, composed, and confident. The outfit takes a little longer to fully digest. The form of it almost calls to mind a guard uniform - solid and square in its silhouette, with epaulettes atop the shoulders and asymmetrical front panels accommodating a diagonal zipper cutting across the front of a well-reinforced jacket, long pants decorated with belts emerging from below and descending towards boots. But the riotous explosion of color unfolding before you, mellowed only by the relative lightness of each hue, transforms what would otherwise be a quite severe outfit into something playful, adventurous, and, to some, stunning. Orange creamsicle and dusty daffodil sit beside teal and a pale royal purple, zippers are rendered in an enchanting robin’s egg blue, and Archie’s tuft of purple fur is tucked neatly into a technicolor interpretation of a guard hat. As he approaches each of you to ooh and aah over each outfit, a telltale texture becomes apparent on closer inspection - the entire garment is constructed of leather, dyed (or perhaps naturally procured as) a fever dream of bright, cheery colors. Archie’s face sits obscured behind a mask of vertical stripes, each color reflected in the rest of the outfit, and from what little you can see of the shape of his eyes, you can tell he seems to be smiling.
Luĉja’s statue ripples back into themself as they walk out of the Library. At least, you’re pretty sure it has to be them. Something about Mu must have made an impression on the necessity of clothes - they’re clad head to toe in a blood-red vest over a white ruffled shirt. Black pants, tall boots, and a black coat, cut out to let their gears spin freely. They hold a hand to their face and you hear a small click, as they look up. A steel mask covers their faceplate, with small ra’kaznar spikes like horns on the forehead. They fiddle a bit with wear the coat falls, and look around. “I cannot imagine that clothing is worth the effort. This is ridiculous,” they complain, placing Casid into their customary pocket.
eyes Salme approvingly, before (carefully) clapping Dyu on the shoulder. “I see you found something to wear. Good.” And then he sees Archie and whistles softly. “Goodness.”
, for his own part, when he shows up, is wearing an incredibly sharp white-and-silvercloth suit with sharp, spare accents of blue that almost seems to suggest the ornamental-but-functional Guard-Captain’s armour, with further panel-accents of an incredibly rough-looking, pebbled-surfaced leather - something you’d expect to see on a sword-hilt, or performing some functional purpose, but deliberately used as a design element. In sharp contrast to the stark white suit, he’s wearing a wooden half-mask as black as the night and polished almost to a mirror-sheen, utterly expertly-carved, remarkably un-decorated, but some sort of bold statement of its own.
to Wolf, “Aye, as have you! A pity Teacher isn’t here to see your outfit, I’m -certain- he would approve!”, and gives a sly smile.
grins widly at everyone’s appearance, picking white gloves from his pocket and slipping them over his hands. “Killer show, everyone! Any deaths tonight, and the witnessess will only be able to recall our forms, such that we strike the eyes.”
flushes, just a bit, high on his cheekbones. “Cheeky boy,” he says to Dyu, letting his voice fall into a Tenebrous cadence.
: “Everyone looks wonderful,” she says, and she means it.
even does mean Aurelius.
puffs a bit, playfully. “We’re not in the Temple, I’m allowed to be cheeky from time to time, you know.”
glances over each of you in turn as he walks in, and grins a disproportionately self-satisfied grin. “Oh, this’ll give the Houses something to spend tomorrow thinking about, for sure. Well done, all of you.”
extends a gloved hand, palm up, to Salme, bowing slightly.
gives Casimir a smile and appreciative nod. “Let none say that Clan Emberlight don’t know how to turn a party. Would that it were the most important of our responsibilities this evening.”
purses his lips and arches an eyebrow at Dyu–but there’s a smile in there, too.
grins, her deep red lipstick making her grin seem shaper, and takes the Awoken’s hand. The heels she’s wearing and the hairpiece make her significantly taller than him, probably, but she doesn’t mind.
doesn’t mind either, and he gently kisses the back of her hand, lingering in his bowed form.
giggles and gives Wolf a wink that says “I’m learning, but don’t underestimate me.”
has some doubts about how well people in certain outfits are going to be able to chase down rogue undead, but keeps that thought to himself while adjusting to the environment a bit.
: “It’s worth noting that House Shagreen, one of the primary backers of the masquerade, as they have always been, also directly endorsed this plan, and have been collaborating with me and were, although of course this would not have been indicated on the invitations, the House which extended its invitation to strangers from storied worlds.” He gathers a few things, checks in with someone in the Guards to make sure that watch will be kept, while he’s otherwise occupied, and looks around. “If we’re all ready, then, the Aventurine Spire is waiting for us.”
clicks his heels together and gives a sharp, smart bow. “Lead the way, Guard-Captain.”
: “At least we know how to blame when things go sideways!” He winks, with an unsaid ‘us’, with a second unsaid ‘because we like it that way.’
shifts his weight forward slightly, ready to follow the Guard-Captain’s lead.
gives his usual bow, “Please lead on!”
shifts about, offering his arm to Salme. “Shall we make our approach, dear? I do so wonder who all would recognize Tetha’neave Loom.”
: “Lead me wherever you’d like to go,” she tells him.
does so, taking you deeper into the Citadel rather than to the elevators closer to the edge, which stop on either this tier, or the one above it. “And because nobody at the masquerade will probably care to tell the story…” These elevators have actual elevator controls, rather than ropes to tug on.
: “Yesterday,” -and something about his tone suggests a ‘yesterday’ of long ago, rather than, you know, the familiar meaning, “-there was a woman named Spinthëa, who wore a hundred faces.” He leads you into the elevator, and selects a particular button, a dark amber, flecked with gold flakes. “Each time she wore a new face, she became the person whose face she wore. To a High House, she was a loyal attendant. To an orphan of the Downbelow, she was a kind and attentive teacher.”
ꙮ The number of faces Spinthëa wore was probably not a hundred, in the original telling. Casimir has learnt a new word, and he’s very proud of himself.
smiles a bit, at that.
: “And every day she lived, she made faces for people to wear, just like the faces she wore. But the faces that she made for people were not like hers, as much as she tried to make them; people wore them, and were still themselves. But they were beautiful and they were gifts from Spinthëa, whom everyone knew and admired– and when she was no longer with us, we still had the faces she had made, and we started to make our own, and, in her honor, on some days we wear the faces we made, or that were given to us, and we imagine that, like Spinthëa was, we are whatever we imagine ourselves to be.” The elevator dings, and there’s a broad promenade, with bridges connecting to tall spires extending up into the sky; at the end of the promenade is the tallest and sturdiest spire, that goes the highest into the sky. Casimir does not walk you towards that one. There’s a closer one instead - ornate, brightly-lit. There’s a little bit of a walk to get there. 🙧
looks up at the tallest spire. “Which House inhabits that one?” he asks.
looks up, with him.
ꙮ At the top of that spire is the structure you could see even from far away, when you first saw Valaïs - an enormous cupola cradling a pulsing purple light that– strangely, it feels like it ought to be having some sort of effect on you all. You can see people, on the Echelon, occasionally glance up to it when they’re in-between thoughts; it even happened to Casimir just now. But you seven? You don’t feel a thing.
walks with Salme on his arm, the silver highlights glinting in the moonlight. He casts curious glances around, unable to help himself catching glances towards others, interested how they compare to those seen in the Downbelow. But, of course, he likely already knows the answer.
: “That yan’s mine.” And he sounds proud, and also very tired, when he says it. “Or, rather, it belongs to all of the High Houses equally. The Blacklight Pathos, the fate of the Undead who fall to us during an Apparition.”
raises an eyebrow.
: “I must know how that works.”
: “Their…fate?”
tilts his head. “Apparition?”
glances around. They’ve got time before they’re at the Aventurine Spire. “So. An Apparition is what we call it when the Undead mass on Valaïs, swarm the walls, singing their song. It’s what the guards exist to defend the city from. And the Blacklight Pathos is the only thing that can end an Undead. And it… falls to the Guard-Captain of Valaïs to perform the task of giving their bodies to the Pathos after we have defeated them in a Rite.”
frowns thoughtfully. “It sounds like a powerful thing.” He looks up at it, eyes narrowed.
: “I…I see.”
nods. “It is. It… I am curious. It calls to me. It calls to all of us. Can you feel it?” He glances up, again.
: “Nope.”
: “I can’t say I do, either.”
shakes their head. “I feel no call.”
: “Not at all. What do you feel?”
shakes his head, “I do not, no.”
shakes his head. “It is just…a light, to me.”
: “Nope! Not a thing.” He does peer curiously at the light, though.
looks thoughtful, at that. “It’s like… a tug. A pulse.” As he walks, he snaps his fingers. “Just there. The compulsion to look up, to– divert my steps towards it. Close enough to it, and it’s hazardously difficult to ignore.”
: “There’s a reason being the Guard-Captain pays well, I suppose.”
opens her mouth to ask a question, then thinks better of it and shuts it.
: “I have to ask, now. What happens to the living, when they fall into the Blacklight Pathos?”
nods in agreement with the Prince’s curiosity. “And is there any danger associated with giving it your attention?”
: “Mmm.” He looks wry. “If you fall in, and you’re alive, you’re just… gone. The Undead at least leave us the obols to remember them by.”
: “The undead become obols once given to the pathos?” She asks
ꙮ Closer and closer to the Aventurine Spire. There’s someone outside in House Tombac’s colours, glancing at invitations and waving people in through the wide arch of the entrance.
: “That’s where they come from in the first place, yes. Then the Houses take their due, and if they were caught by a guard on patrol– like that fool Hale Wolf– that guard gets a cut.”
: “Guess that makes calculating quest rewards easy.”
: “I wonder what the mysterious, invisible hand of the market wants with undead…”
: “That—“ she shuts her mouth again, hard, but her eyebrows are furrowed.
: “Met any Merchants yet? I ought to take all of you Downbelow, tomorrow.” And then he’s in front of all of you having a Conversation with the attendant at the gate, who waves you all in.
gives the attendant a nod as he passes. “Oh yes. A quite animated fellow of few words but quick eyes and hands.”
ꙮ The Aventurine Spire lives up to its name - a ceiling made of vaulted silver filigree and black-amber glass with specks of gold-flake in it, catching moonlight and casting it perpetually into the hall; crisp white-and-black polished stone floor, unmarred by a single track of mud or filth; mirrors along every wall that can take them, reflecting the opulence a thousandfold. Along one (unmirrored) wall is a monstrous and unattended pipe organ that looks like it hasn’t been played in centuries; along another (this one is mirrored) is a panoply of instrumental musicians hired for the night by the High Houses with various instruments, standing around in polite boredom waiting for their cues. ⁂
ꙮ Attendants of the High Houses - you recognise some of the uniforms from your brief stint in the Downbelow, perhaps they were even buying supplies for this soiree - flit around with silver plates full of sliced meats and cheeses and delicate, buttery crackers, and olives, and smooth creamy spreads, and little jars of bright salty fish-roe, and slices of dark toast, and tiny little quail’s eggs which have been perfectly peeled and then impaled upon little silver spikes (that represent the fortifications of Valaïs’ citadel, of course). It’s impossible for you to tell which attendants belong to which House, but you can tell that every single person at the gala other than the seven of you know intimately how many obols each other House lavished upon the celebration, and are performing their appropriate judgements accordingly. 🙧
does not gape like a country bumpkin, but she’s glad that her mask hides her eyes.
settles his mask upon his face–where it seems to fit snugly enough to not even require a cord or strap–and allows wolf-green eyes to flicker almost haughtily out from under the scowling, sculpted brow.
is laser focused on making an entrance, stopping first at the edge of the door frame to call attention to his appearance (but carefully and politely out of the flow of traffic), then sauntering confidently towards the middle of the room, graciously accepting delicate bites on his path, drinking it all in.
glances around the room for a few moments, before immediately be-lining for the most expensive food on a tray and eating several samples.
through his white and gold mask, takes in the atmosphere, in quiet awe of the opulence. It is…-wildly- different than the Temple.
ꙮ Up above, a bunch of narrow beams crisscross the spire, from which hang a number of gnosis-lights and one enormous, ostentatious chandelier; the gnosis-lights have been magicked apurpose to flicker like candles might.
ꙮ You are announced, as you enter - as a group, honoured guests of the High Houses, individually unnamed, along with Tana’loof Drum Casimir, the Guard-Captain; his choice of attire seems to cause a bit of a stir that is, then, quickly overshadowed by gasps of delight and other, surely decorous and dignified emotions from the assembled personages.
inhales deeply, his jaw set to ‘brazen’ with a confident jut and steel smile. He effortlessly glides about the crowd, a swift hand removing a hors d’oeuvre without disturbing the plate, bites careful to leave no crumb. He regularly makes eye contact but stops for nobody in particular. Soon, he holds about a champagne flute but doesn’t drink, having it as an accessory.
ꙮ The food is all… it’s very, very good. Fresh, carefully-prepared, not… quite as Inherently Delicious as some of you have been used to your whole life or got used to whilst visiting Almachadta. But it varies between unreasonably decadent and just plain tasty; there’s a platter of mushroom caps stuffed with some sort of creamy, savoury sauce and broiled to perfection that Casimir deliberately makes sure comes towards all of you before it can get picked clean.
is mostly avoiding eating due to the veil she’s wearing, but she had a meal prior to this. She does take a moment to glance at the Guard-Captain and ask, “Is it the alliance with House Ebony that you’re declaring that’s got them all astir, or is it something else about your costume?”
: “He is quite dashing in that attire.”
gives Salme a deeply pleased look. “Yan is not supposed to declare yan’s loyalty in a position like mine. But Houses Shagreen and Ebony have earned mine, and I have not forgotten that days like these are days on which we ought to wear the faces we’d like to wear, rather than the yan that was given to us.”
tries a few of the various offerings, to expand his culinary horizons.
: “You’ll have to tell me the story of how they earned your loyalty, someday soon. I’m curious what it would take to accomplish that.”
makes his way over to Dyu and joims him, making quiet, polite conversation about each new dish.
looks like he has some Things to Say about that that he absolutely will NOT say even sotto voce in a hall full of the High Houses, but nods almost conspiratorially to her.
quietly compares notes with Archie, as the food here is MUCH different than what is on Mu.
ꙮ You notice the reflection of a man in the hall’s grandest and most audacious mirror; he’s wearing an incredibly ornate black suit with gold trim, bright-polished boots with enormous heels, a swooping cape, black silk and crushed maroon velvet, that’s lined at the edges with intricate silver geometric patterning, white gloves, and, most notably, an unbelievably unnecessarily elaborate silvered mask crowned with a halo of silver slivers and a veritable mane of black feathers. The reflection is leaning louchely back against the reflection of a pillar.
looks at the reflection, and then looks to see if the reflection is showing something that isn’t otherwise in the room.
ꙮ Well, the room is so full of people in outlandish outfits, I couldn’t possibly say for sure.
wants to get in on the low-key gossiping and information trading, nudging Casimir and nodding in the direction where the spots the reflection. “Who’s that?”
pulls out his spectacles, carefully placing them over his mask, and begins flicking, looking for any shapes in the gnosis not visually discernible without the help of the lenses.
glances in the direction the Awoken is pointing, and then scrunches up his face under the ebony mask. “…I suspect that might be our prey. Utterly… shameless of him, if so.”
cannot help but stare at the man in the reflection.
laughs. “Oh man. Don’t approach him yet. I haven’t gotten to the stuffed mushrooms.”
: “Maybe wait for a dance or two, too!”
shrugs and makes her way toward the man, walking through the crowd as if she expects it to part for her.
is remaining steadfast, vigilant, and very close to as much of Clan Emberlight as he can.
: “Oop- my dear sparrow has little patience for the playtime dances, it seems.”
responds in Awa’s direction, between bites. “If you - say so.”
starts circling the room, working on slowly ending up closer to the mirror, just in case they need to…relocate it.
follows at Salme’s heels, black coat swirling around his legs a little. If Salme isn’t enough to get people to get out of the way, his grim visage probably is.
when she nears the man, if he is in the room, slows and says, “Hello. Do you dance?”
ꙮ There’s nobody there. ⁂
ꙮ In a moment, the night’s pleasant (?) reverie is shattered by a formidable wall of sound from the unattended pipe organ; the keys immediately begin dancing, by themselves, playing a delicate, if unsettling, brief toccata. An etude, or perhaps, more in keeping with the festivities, an amuse-bouche. 🙧
makes a slightly annoyed huff. “Knew it was that fucking mirror trick.”
apologizes, mentally, for the deprivation of the stuffed mushrooms.
ꙮ In the confusion and hubbub surrounding the scandalously-unauthorised organ recital, most of the gathered attendees - but not you seven - fail to notice an otherworldly glow begin to settle on all assembled, save for the seven of you and Casimir. It affects the musicians, first - they look up, briefly take a moment to roll their heads on their necks, flick out their fingertips like they’re trying on new clothes, and then they put bow to string, or instrument to lip. A few moments after that, attendants of the Houses, enrobed as well in moonglow, quietly and without fanfare begin filtering to the back of the hall, picking up trays of delicious comestibles they’ve not had the chance to try leftovers of yet, or in some cases, wouldn’t get to at all. ⁂
ꙮ Lengths of shimmering, gauzy cloth fall from - the air? the canopy of the Spire? Do you imagine the skittering figure you think you saw up there, laughing and clambering away? The remaining nobles on the floor catch the cloth out of the air, hold it in their hands, stare at it like they don’t know what to do with it, like they don’t know what to do with the things at the ends of their arms in the first place, in utter bafflement. ⁂
ꙮ The organ begins playing, then, and the instruments join in, and when the organ plays, the gathered nobility of the High Houses begin to dance to its tune. First, their bodies and arms rise like they’re puppets on strings; with blissful, mindless expressions on their faces they start writhing, swaying to and fro in an aggressive, shameless pastiche of a court dance; their heads and shoulders loll and skew to one side- then jerk up to attention, skew to the other, jerk up once more; they draw the cloth through the air, or along the ground, release them and let them fall, and where they fall is a circle surrounding Clan Emberlight– and as they so dance, they begin to sing with the accompaniment, with voices that are not, entirely, their own. ⁂
- You hear — and your Star hears — a song, echoing from the stillness: O Valaïs!
looks up - hand immediately going to the sword at his belt - squinting in impossible recognition at the lead voice.
ꙮ The reflection in the mirror stops pretending to be anybody’s reflection, at some point during the bizarre song; one foot taps in time with the rhythm, and he’s pulled a conductor’s baton out of some corner of his accoutrements and is, playfully and to no productive end whatsoever, conducting the performance from within the mirror. (He does not need to be; the Apparition is perfectly and completely coördinated in its song and its choreography.) 🙧
rumbles deep in his throat, holding out his hand and letting his naginata drop out of nowhere into it, the slam of its butt on the floor ringing out loudly.
grabs a tray that was still filled with food on the way out and disappears it, before snapping his fingers and making a champagne flute appear in his hand from somewhere. He quickly downs it, before the glass is gone and replaced by his gunblade. “Don’t eat before the event they said - there’ll be food there they said -“
joins Wolf and draws his rod from is place, tucked within his coat.
slowly claps as the song’s denoument fades, centering the eight of them. “Amazing performance! A special reverie, for us?”
slips over next to Aurelius and holds out a hand, requesting her sword.
ꙮ One gloved finger rises. The reflection glances up, catches Casimir’s eye, elegantly inclines his mask. Wait for it. He straightens his cuffs; adjusts the fall of his robe. From somewhere behind the silver comes a hummed and haunted phrase; four particular notes of the song from the marketplace. Then he knocks three delicate taps from the wrong side of the glass. ⁂
’s head tilts, and as he has the speed of recognition, hums the last three notes along with the taps.
: “Now, now, no need for nerves.” His hand slips soundlessly through the mirror up to the wrist. He feels around for the gilded frame, and takes ahold of it. “Nobody need notify the night-watch; I notice the only one that matters is here anyway.” One polished boot emerges, finding purchase on the polished stone floor. He steps out sideways like he’s pushing through something heavy, ducking beneath the frame with the exaggerated care of a very tall guest enterirng a very modest home. His elaborate cape follows through a moment late, all its bulk drawn through the silver like silk through a ring. ⁂
: “I really should teach you the beginner version of this that can hold at least a single weapon -“ A flick of the wrist, and Salme’s sword and gun sheathes are there.
“Neighbours, nightingales, ne’er-do-wells, and the numerous noble nonentities nestled near the refreshments—” He sweeps into a bow. The lining of his cape catches the chandelier-light. “I am an invited, yet uninvited guest, neither numbered nor nominated, native to nowhere, notoriously nocturnal. Negotiator of narrow ways, numismatic nuisance, and the name most frequently nestled between our dear guard-captain’s clenched teeth.” His gaze finds Casimir again. “If only he knew it.” ⁂
“What a night you’ve engineered. Such niceties! Such numbers! Such a nearly negligible number of exits.” He looks from the guards to the doors, then back to Casimir, with unmistakable appreciation. “You noticed my habits. You numbered my haunts. You nourished a notion, nurtured a network, and netted yourselves—” His eyes settle on Clan Emberlight. “—newcomers! How delightful.” For a moment he is still. Then, he plucks a purple hyacinth from his buttonhole and sends it skimming across the floor. It comes to rest precisely at the edge of the space prepared for the Rite. “Now, invitation or no, nobody could name me an ungratious guest.” He takes his place with the easy precision of a dancer finding his mark. ⁂
: “And naturally, ere the nascent battle begins, it would be nothing short of negligent, after nigh-endless nights, not to finally name myself.” He opens his arms with a flourish, cape dramatically billowing as if the Aventurine Spire’s got a crosswind. He lets each name get its own little beat of dramatic silence: “Nought Nemo Nicodemus, your Lord of the Cenotaph himself, here to share in your grandiose company on this most auspicious of nights! Name your terms then, Guard-Captain.” He opens his arms with a flourish. “And let’s give the neighbors something to narrate!” ⁂
ꙮ Casimir opens his mouth to speak, but the Rite flares up with terms already set, and Nicodemus winks - you can, somehow, tell - behind the mask. The loser of the Rite, captive to the winner. Your opponent somehow takes a step to the right and to the left, simultaneously - reflections of him twirl away into the lanes. [Performance] - Nicodemus is a multi-target Rite opponent. He exists in three manifestations. At the beginning of each manifestation’s turn, before Refresh, it may exchange its hand with another undefeated manifestation. Performance can also trigger immediately before a manifestation’s defeat.
looks at the man disdainfully, his eyes shadowed and dark beneath the mask. “Did you practice that speech before hand, or is it improvised?” He spins his naginata, lighting the blade, and brings the butt down on the floor with a bell-like tone again. “Let’s be on with it.”
takes her weapons from Aurelius, shrugging. “It’s an excuse to see you during these big group moments,” she says, before strapping on her weapons.
: “Hmm… Admittedly, the Rite does have to wait so I suppose it’s not like slower access is any more dangerous.”
starts to lose the color definition in his mask as the purple glow from his eyes intensifies, slowly and steadily, his pace picking up.
: “We may be big on ceremony in the Temple…but even this is a bit much.”
laughs at Dyu’s comment. “It is a lot, isn’t it?”
laughs and nods, “It really is.”
ꙮ Salme, Awa, Dyu, AND CK all have Snipe! Archie is Advising and can take an action before the Rite begins if he so chooses.
eyes the manifestation before her, aims her gun, and fires a very polite warning shot at Nocturne.
Snipe on [Restore!] I guess
Luĉja’s eyes glow radiant white, and they fire a round off from their hand cannon at the shadow closest them.
Snipe [Dark Prophecy!]
quicky whirls his arm in an underhand throw, a ruby red throwing dagger breezing past the Shadow Galliard, embedding itself in the mirror behind it. [Snipe - Nothing Up My Sleeve]
Snipe [Nothing Up My Sleeve]
ꙮ Dyu, snipe away!
stares down the Shadow, and draws a sigil into the air in golden light, then swipes his hand through the air to grasp it. [Snipe - After You. No, After You!]
Snipe [After You. No, After You!]
: “Tch. Fair’s fair, I suppose.” And then, in his manifestation as the Nocturne, and plays [Defuse], giving his other aspects some toys to play with, given that the toys he had were so cruelly taken from him.
ꙮ Salme, Wolf!
takes a single step forward, raising his free hand and casting a ball of what looks like gnosis-vines out at his opponent–they wrap around it in places as it hits, digging in with spectral thorns.
[Erode] for 1+1 and an Exposure card in his draw pile.
: “Oh! Oh, how thoughtless…” He frowns, then, and then snaps his fingers.
- You hear — and your Star hears — a song, echoing from the stillness: The Rite ~ What the Darkness Offered Me
: “That’s better.”
sheathes her gun, and pulls out her sword. She’s not as mobile in this outfit as she usually is, but she doesn’t have to be. She tilts the blade in her hand, drawing up a shimming wall of radiant gnosis that settles around her like spider webbing and then points her blade at the manifestation of the shadow before her. “Enlighten me with the truth, if you would.”
[Instant Barrier] then [Libra]; +2 def for Wolf.
The Lord of the Cenotaph (or the prioprietor of the Speakeasy, if we’re feeling sassy, and he always is.) He has been known, from time to time, as the Shadow, as well as by other names. He prefers, at this moment, to go by “Nought Nemo Nicodemus”, and I intend to respect this preference. As is his tradition, the name he once held evaporated in light, and the name he chose marks him born and risen on no day at all, with no sign to call his own.
looks across the temnos at the Awoken for a brief moment, and then nods.
takes a quick step towards the Awoken. [May I Have This Dance?]
For 2, and optional draw, let me know if you take it!
scrunches up his lips, caught against a gloried truth. “In this land of masks, The Awoken is still a name!”
ꙮ Anyways, Awa and Dyu!
can’t argue that. “Ugh.”
ꙮ If Awa draws, he has to target Nico.
extends his hand to Nicodemus. “I fear no dance of darkness!”
Accepts
ꙮ It’s your turn!
just as their hands meet, Awoken’s other hand flicks out, a burst of quintessence scorching Nicodemus!
[Mana Burst] 1+ 4 for gnosis types +1 for burning
nods politely, and brushes a tinge of ash off his glove.
holds his hand open, and a small flourish of glimmering green leaves condense into the shape of a card.
[Brilliance]
ꙮ Some of the light remains around him when the image fades!
snaps his fingers, again, and a spotlight - since when were there spotlights!? - shines on Wolf. [Your Name In Lights], and then he surrounds himself with shimmering gnosis. [Shining Nova] on himself in his Mattachine manifestation.
ꙮ Aurelius, Luĉja!
ꙮ Dyu has another card to play, also
he then holds out his rod, prismatic colored energy swirling around the tip, before condensing and firing a bolt at Nicodemus.
[Mana Burst]
looks down at their hand cannon a moment, and thinks, for just a second. Then the whole barrel glows radiant and fires a beam straight at their opponent - illuminating them in bright light. They then spin back and channel radiance toward Aurelius. “My timings’ off here, you go for the big hit on this one!” Holstering the gun, they stomp the ground - burning gnosis ripping up viciously serrated shards of stone and surrounding Nicodemus’ shadow, threatening to close in on them.
[Brilliance] [Tracer!] [Command!] [Who Dares] +1 Def Aury
traces black gnosis runes into the air around him with his free hand. “Duly noted, we’ll figure something out.”
[Living Shadow]
then draws out a series of red glyphs along the gunblade, before stepping forward and slashing at the manifestation in front of him.
[Heavy Strikes] 3+2+1+4= 9, and a Wound.
staggers back!
ꙮ Next round!
weaves defensive gnosis in the air around himself in his Nocturne manifestation! [Fermata]
ꙮ Wolf, Salme!
flips her sword downward and touches the tip to the ground, vines growing among her clan’s feet for a fleeting moment, touching them with the brief warmth of the Centrelight.
[shared growth]
laughs a little big as the tenebrous runes around him suck up ambient energy in the air and super charge his hand of rites.
lunges at Nicodemus–but it’s only a sham, his boots skidding on the floor tiles as he quickly shifts direction and slashes at the other’s unguarded side.
[Feint] to draw 3, then [Backstab] to deal 4+1 damage.
The sharpened spikes of stone pierce Nought Nemo Nicodemus!
Stress 4 for the audacity of having a turn.
: “Hah!” He’s grinning, under the mask, whirls to parry with a dagger, but he still took a nasty hit.
grins at Aurelius from across the temenos. “You’re welcome, kulta.”
then, changes things up a bit - [Performance] - swapping his Galliard and Nocturne manifestations, Refreshes, plays [No One Left Alone] on the Mattachine manifestation, which then Defends [4], and then plays [Fortress] on the same manifestation, defending a further 4.
: “Watch for the changes, my friends!”
ꙮ Awa, Dyu, in any order!
: “Care for another dance partner?” He places a gloved hand on the ground, and an intricate circle of pellucid gnosis weaves into the ground. Awoken bounds back up to a stand, and a silver filigree fiend pops from the ground, its head a conical hat shape, its body evoking the wide robes of a wizard… but it’s also cloaked in a black tuxedo coat. Had to dress up, ya’ know?
[Invoke: Lithos]
: “Ah! More new friends! How delightful. Whoever loses teaches the winner fiendcraft tips in captivity?”
grins devilishly. “I’ll take those stakes.”
forms a ball of shimmering blue gnosis in his hand, and tosses it towards The Awoken Prince, where it splits into two as it swirls around him. “May the God’s light aid you.”
[Omen Forgery] on Awoken
: “I’ll take that blessing, for sure.” His eyes glint.
gains [Void Flare] x2
glances upwards curiously and then shrugs and gestures for Aurelius to continue, pleasantly.
ꙮ Aurelius, Luĉja!
quickly lets off a fast and wide swing, before making a second one and jumping back to load a canister into the gunblade’s chamber.
[Wild Swing] -> [Wind up]. 4 or 2 based on coin flip +1, so 5 or 3. Then 1+1 for 2.
: “Maybe I can work something out here. If I can sense time going in every direction….” A pulse of gnosis washes over the lane, and you all are slightly filled with deja vu.
[Reconjure] erryboddy grab a card from their discard pile
- Nought Nemo Nicodemus invoked their 🌌liminal gnosis [d4] -> 3.
ꙮ Tails!
discard and regain a rite in the middle of the wild swing, too.
Also Wound twice due to being hit twice as well.
Refreshes with a sound of digust. Then, “Aha!” And he grins maniacally, and looks up at the Very Expensive Chandelier hanging from the vaulting, makes his hand into a gun shape, points it at the chain holding the chandelier up, and says, “Bang.” Tragically, the actual chandelier does not fall on Aurelius to dramatic organ music - but a gnosis-replica of it does! [No Expense Spared] discarding 3 for 5, adding an Exposure to his own deck [Noise and Notoriety] for 8!
ꙮ Salme! Wolf!
: “…Wonder that that would have hurt less if it was the real one that fell…”
frowns. “I feel like we’re copying beats of a very familiar story, but I can’t put my finger on what,” she says, before firing a round at Galliard in front her her, marking him with a splash of azure pellucid gnosis that clashes horribly. Then she moves forward, carefully, due to her outfit, but with all a dancer’s grace, and taps the blade of her sword, crackling with blue lightning, against his arm. It jumps from him to his other manifestations.
[Tracer!] on Galliard, then [Chain Lightning!] on each manifestation with +1 for burning grace. Galliard takes 10, the others take 6. I stress 4.
: does lunge this time, slashing in quick, precise motions across Nicodemus–then he takes a spinning step backwards and chucks a handful of goopy-looking Tenebrous gnosis at Nicodemus, staining his clothing!
[Rushdown](Q) for 3+1; then [Sorrowful Memory] for another 1.
: “But isn’t that what you do, with a story that you love? Isn’t that the best way to honour it?” He grins – admires the chromatic boldness of the Pellucid and Tenebrous gnosis now decorating his garb – and laughs as he takes the hits. [10] [6] [12] [4] [1]
: “Someone did tell me once that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,” she muses.
does get a good hit back in at Wolf while they’re sparring, though. [Backstab] for [7] and [Your Name In Lights] evaporates!
ꙮ Awa! Dyu!
: “Whoever told you that was very wise, I think.”
he surrounds himself with Radiant Gnosis, points a finger at the Manifestation, and gives it a toe to tip tongue-lashing, he won’t soon forget!
[Condemnation]
gasps in horror! [2]
discards a [Command], which the Lithos absorbs, but holds fire… Awoken raises a hand high, and the shadows that everyone casts from the gnosis light move toward him, gathering at his legs. Then, the Lithos moves, casting the spell on Awoken, speeding him up!
Awoken: [Dark Prophecy!] targeting [Void Flare], [Real Ultimate Power], [Rage]. Lithos: [Command] on Awoken. Next turn, he gets to play two rites.
: “Ahahahahaha…”
Refreshes, because he doesn’t have any Strike rites for Condemnation to proc on, then weaves, in his Nocturne manifestation, defensive gnosis around himself. [Instant Barrier] [Illusionary Wall] – but he nods his head to acknowledge that he’s only delaying the inevitable.
ꙮ Awa, Luĉja!
fires another burst of radiant light, illuminating Nicodemus, and bellows an old Hunting call from when they were much younger.
[Tracer!] [War Cry] +5 damage for Aurelius on this monstrosity of a turn
rolls his head around his neck twice, before moving a single leg back and falling into a stance. A second later there’s a blink, and he’s behind the manifestation. A slash, followed by a slash into his back, before Aurelius kicks off the ground and flips into the air. When he’s above the manifestations crown, he performs another downward slash with both hands as he continues to spin, then pulls the trigger. As he does, a positively insane amount of tenebrous gnosis explodes from both the spots that been previously cut, as well as the gunblades’ barrel. The force of the blast sends Aurelius flying towards the ceiling, where he briefly lands with both feet and a single hand, before he blinks out of sight and reappears near Lucja with a nod.
[Void Flare!], 2+4+4+1+1 = 10 x2 = 20 x3 = 60 total.
ꙮ Good heavens.
: “Good heavens!”
: “Told ya we’d work it out.”
nods, steel mask still unable to smile.
: “Oh,” she says, a little helplessly.
: “But the show must go on!” –and with that, the Nocturne and the Mattachine swap places for the last time, and the Nocturne manifestation evaporates into wisps of gnosis.
ꙮ The right lane collapses!
: “By the God’s light…”, he says in awe.
blinks at where that manifestation had been–then turns a very fangy smile on the one in front of him.
ꙮ Salme, Wolf, and if either of Aury or CK join them in the left lane!
: “Perilous choice of lanes, my friend.”
slides towards Awa and Dyu so Lucja can torq the others.
: “Like any of you are safe to be on the other side of a battlefield from!” It’s, clearly, meant as high praise.
follows Luĉja’s lead, and lets out a bright, warm laugh.
[War Cry!]
tugs on his sleeve, revealing a rent where Nicodemus’ blade has gone through his jacket–with just a little blood visible beneath. “You know, I enjoyed this coat.” He smiles coldly, and lunges forward to grab the manifestation by it’s jacket, pinning it in place–at the cost of opening himself up to attack. “Let’s go together.”
[Everyone Dies Someday], Salme gets +1 defense.
*’s core starts to heat through their dress shirt, a burning hole where their heart might be. They fire a cannonball at Nicodemus, leaving them wide open. “Everybody dies some day. But today doesn’t seem like it for us.” Smoke and steam rise from their mask.
The first thing
: “I think…not today. Wolf grins fiercely, pouring gnosis into his naginata’s blade until it burns white hot–then plunges it into the chest of the manifestation in front of him.*
[Wild and Pure and Forever Free], discarding 3 cards for a +3 to damage. [Defiance] for 5 damage, doubled by Exposure to 10. (Edit: That should actually be 8 damage--I misread the damage on Defiance--doubled to 16.)
seems particularly delighted by that particular choice. “Ah, they’ve got decent tailors even in the Fort. It’s a clean tear, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
then, straightens himself up, brushes himself off, and, as his Mattachine manifestation, takes a bow with [Take A Bow]. “The Awoken Prince!” He meets his eyes, grinning audibly behind the mask. “Bring your best to bear!”
ꙮ Awa, Dyu, Aurelius!
’s mask eyeholes flash with burning gnosis. “Everyone dies some day. And sometimes, they die again, don’t they?”
[Everyone Dies Some Day] rite #1, turn still happening.
’s tuxedo tails billow with the burst of burning gnosis that flows from inside his coat, the gathered shadows crawling inside his regalia. With a blink, his mask eyes shine brilliantly, Mattachine’s form glowing with a silver lining! Awoken begins to cackle manically as he moves his hands, conducting his own improvised tune, with loud orchestra hits, punctuated with cannon blasts– void flaring blasts that erupit around Mattachine’s feet and shoulders that blow holes in teh floors, shatter the mirrors, and perilously send shards of the chandelier raining down over the rite! He suddenly oars through the air, a ruby red greatsword within his hands, and slams it down onto the enemy with a reckless, mighty strike– another crazed, triumphant note screams from Awoken’s throat as the sword explodes with another powerful void flare, rocketing him back into formation!
[Rage] (quick), [Tracer!], [Void Flare] (quick), [Real Ultimate Power] (quick), [Void Flare] (rite #2).
: “I do prefer to think as finally paying back what we’ve been borrowing–“ –and then he laughs, and laughs, and laughs, as shards of mirror and chandelier come down around his ears. “Yes! YES! Yes, they’ll remember this tomorrow–“ –and then the sword strikes hard enough that the temenos immediately ruptures.
skids to a stop.
7 + 7 + 8 + 4 + 4, x2... 60 yeah
glances around the room, shakes his head… then turns his gaze upwards and slashes at the air. A blade of radiant energy soars upwards, cutting through the chandiler’s fixing and sends it crashing down upon the final manifestation after the Prince clears out the one in their lane.
[Super annihilate] 3+2 = 5
laughs.
is on one knee, when the dust clears, his various accoutrements and finery dissolving into gnosis other than a simple white linen shirt and trousers, and a black silk tie.
lets the mask fall to the ground, too. His hair’s a wildly unnatural pink, cascading down over either side of his face; his eyes are old and kind but he’s grinning a fierce and mad grin. “Well, it’s -very- nice to finally meet all of you.”
immediately, steps forward, and claps cold iron handcuffs around Nicodemus’ wrists without a single word.
: “Hope the House had insurance…”
does not put up any resistance. The stakes of the Rite were clear!
steps back and pulls his mask from his face, watching Casimir secure the restraints with little expression–except for a little furrow between his brows.
: “Meet?”
: “Is anyone hurt?”, he says as he takes off his mask.
: “Yeah, he is,” nodding towards Nicodemus.
: “Just a scratch.”
grumbles and tugs at his torn sleeve. “Same.”
: “Tch, I’m fine. I’m just not going anywhere.” He laughs, softly. “Clan Emberlight. Did you know there’s a vantage point somewhere on Valaïs from which you can watch almost anything that happens?”
: “Next to the black light?”
: “Or the moon?”
: “Hah! No, I stay very far away from the Pathos. Although I suppose I’ll be in irons in the Citadel, won’t I?” He gives Casimir a good-natured smile.
: “Where is it? Is it your cenotaph?”
: “Hmmmm. It’s a shame, isn’t it, that I’ll be thrown into it bodily in exchange for some paltry obols before having a chance to answer that question. Alas.” He examines his lacquered fingernails. One of them got chipped.
looks over to Casimir. “C’mon Casimir, I’m still owed a talk about fiendcraft.”
: “Surely it’ll be more than a paltry few obol, you’re Notorious.”
forces him to his feet with a growl. “You will remain silent, prisoner, until you are secured in the cell which we have prepared.” A glance at Clan Emberlight. “…after which, you may speak with him, if you… wish to. His words are honeyed wind. And his fate is the High Houses’ to determine.”
very, very surreptitiously does a blah blah blah gesture with one of his hands.
ꙮ It’s not at all surreptitious, though, because his hands are in irons in front of him, so–
ꙮ Anyways.
hums a bit, rocking back and forth on his heels. He is now very much The Awoken, not this farce of a ball-goer.
low high high low
: “Do you two know each other? Or is this just the fated enemies thing playing out?”
waves her hand between Casimir and Nicodemus.
fills in the back three notes of the melody, observing glass shards on the floor–
growls, and shoves Nicodemus on the shoulder. “No singing. No humming. Not a noise from you. I know what you’re capable of.” And, to Salme: “I’ve been hunting him my entire life. He killed my mentor, he’s been a plague on Valaïs, we will all be much safer thanks to your efforts.” He hasn’t taken his eyes off the Shadow.
snorts a very soft, is-that-what-you-think-happened snort, but he does not say anything, or sing, or laugh, or hum. Rules are rules, aren’t they?
: “Glad we could help!” He glances about to the other ballgoers… how are they doing? Still being puppeted?
: “Well, there’ll be time enough to get all the details once he’s safely in lock up and we’re… not standing in the middle of wreckage.”
quickly, quietly orders someone from the Guard to get people up to the High Echelons to help clean up the mess, glances over at Clan Emberlight. “You will have your chance to speak with him, if that’s your will. Come see me, after I’ve got him secured.” And then he’ll march the Shadow off to the elevators.
looks around to one of the tables, hoping they didn’t destroy all the stuffed mushrooms.
nods with a quick salute as Casimir heads out.
nods, and watches them both go before sidling over to the Awoken. “(Sorry about the mushrooms. I thought I could talk without triggering … that).”
once Casimir leaves, Luĉja idly picks up some of the broken glass and silver and pockets them. “I, for one, would like to hear what The Shadow has to say.”
ꙮ There’s nobles standing around the Aventurine Hall in a blinking daze. Some of them are laughing and yawping about having had the most incredible dream. The attendants devoured an appreciable fraction of the delicacies, but… there’s still some plates of stuffed mushrooms to enjoy, yes!
waves a hand, and then wraps it around Salme’s waist. “Ah, it’ll be fine! He had to crash everyone’s fun, in the end.”
nods at Luĉja. “I would too. We obviously … there’s obviously a lot we don’t know, and he does.”
: “And hey!” He finds a stuffed mushroom without any glass shards in it. “Truly, this is what it means to be loved by the gods.”
: “Aye. There’s more going on here than what seems, I think. I don’t think this is a simple tale of good and evil.”
produces one (1) stuffed mushroom and places it in the Awoken’s mouth.
: “I agree.”