Mists of War - DM Downrightamazed

Game Master downrightamazed

Three groups of gaijin approach the Son of the Heavens, ruler of the Empire of Mists, in his palace in far Lanzhu. A great war is underway in the west, this is known, but what could these strangers want?


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Tokine takes a moment to further compose herself. Takes a Bit of Luck to think on this but nothing comes to her

[ooc]Know Religion -> 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (11) + 11 = 22
Know Religion -> 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (11) + 11 = 22

Know History -> 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (10) + 11 = 21

"I saw a skull the size of a planet with horrid glowing dots deep in its eye sockets. Tendrils of stormcloud gather at its base and reached out for me. Giant lightning bolts, each the size of a moon in diameter hammer through a formless, ceaseless storm. And then it laughed..."

She takes another sip of tea to settle the slight shake that reappeared in her hand. "I don't know its origin but San Pen or Rhon might, or Advisor Chujitsana if either of them turn up."


Female Human Samurai 11, HP: 84/128, 3/4 Resolve, 1/4 challenges

Wow. Fun.

As the laughter shakes the building, Azami's first thought is the red dragon from her dream that morning, wrapped around this temple and its massive head rising to strike. She flexes her too-tired legs from her cross-legged seated position, pressing up into standing-- just barely avoiding hitting the table. Her blade already pulled a foot from its scabbard when the rumbling laugh stops - at least outwardly.

Inside, it echoes still. Her eyes go to the Curator, who begins to speak despite her shaking. She spells out and wipes away a name Azami does not recognize, and the guard begins to return to the table, staring at the stone.

"I don't know the name." Azami glances to Kyras and Erudima to see if they know more.

She turns to Daisuke, "Trust is a word I do not usually use in reference to any Clan." Looking back to the stone, "I know only that Sera Zhongyi gave it to me, and that I felt nothing in it."

Despite the Curator's warning, she reaches forth and palms both the stone and the ring, slipping them back into her pouch; what is a cursed stone to a cursed soldier? "It cannot remain here in your temple, Tokine-san. May Shelyn forgive me for bringing it." Tomorrow, when she speaks with Captain Takagami about the ring, and when the Emperor calls for them, she will mention the name.

She watches Tokine pour herself another shaky cup of tea; Azami pushes her own teacup away.


@Imuri: Your reflexes and snap decision-making allow you to catch the thing in mid-transformation. With three quick chops, you slice the poor gardner-creature into three distinct chunks. Each chunk spasms and spins and leaks blood and pus and effluvia all over the floor, but eventually stops.

Somewhere outside, a swift calls in the night as it flies past the Gossamer Palace.


@In The Temple: Eru ceases to play, and the Temple is deathly silent. The air stinks vaguely of the tang of burnt ozone. "The oldest legend in Mamban is that the Center City is the only surviving civilization that dates back before the time of Khoda, and Kalaroth the Dragon God. My mother tells the story of Norgorber abandoning the other gods in their time of need to protect his only city, leaving them with no one to strike the killing stroke against the renegade gods, forcing them instead to simply imprison and banish them, solutions not one of them accepted wholly, but which all were too wise to go against. When the gods confronted Norgorber later, they realized that if he had not done what he did, many races would have ceased to exist. His position has been tenuous ever since, not that one would think he cares..."

The princess, who is seated behind Azami, is looking at the crimson-haired gaijin with something not unlike tenderness. "The scholars of my House say this is why the Center City is so powerful; it is so old, and contains relics from the world before the world began, relics that exist in their own space and time, or are fixed in time. Wonders and horrors Kalaroth's minions built and Khoda gave power." She sighs. "But then, I am too young to have studied these topics fully, and my brothers would always wink and mock when mom told these stories; they knew how much I loved them and told me they were just stories. And...I have no way, yet, to disprove them. The Center City does not divulge its secrets with ease, if it does at all."


@Imuri: As the three pieces of the gardner twitch and flop on the ground, you notice a ghostly amulet around the man's neck that was not there before his transformation began. It looks identical in all respects to the other amulets you found in the palace except it is whole, and is mostly transparent, ghostly.


Female Human Samurai 11, HP: 84/128, 3/4 Resolve, 1/4 challenges

A little of what Erudima says of Mamban legend seems to echo something from the distant past - perhaps studies Azami never paid attention to, or banter between merchants while working with her father. The talking of Mamban calls to mind the colorful, crowded streets of the south delve, by the harbor.

However, the warmth from the elven princess is uncomfortable; Azami knows Erudima is at least a century older than she, yet still so much a girl to this world. That they share a similar home, a familiar youth and neighborhood adds another layer of complexity: Eru is physically older, culturally younger, and socially equal, but societally on the far end of the spectrum from her. Azami wonders if they might have been friends in her youth in other circumstances... if she would have had a daughter like Eru...

...Too many ghosts in the last two days...

"With the god of murder showing himself twice this day already..." Azami shakes her head, her eyes heavy, and rises to standing again. "Thank you Erudima," she begins before a yawn inserts itself,"- that is helpful. I shall sleep better knowing that I hold a renegade god in my pocket." Was that humor? It must be, as Azami gives Eru a soft, half-upwards turn of her mouth that might be a smile when it grows up.

Then turning to Daisuke and Tokine, she inclines her head. "I must seek rest. Thank you again, Tokine-san, for allowing me to stay here."

She looks to Kyras for a moment, as if she would give him some direction or warning, but then just lifts her hand in a half wave, walking from the room.

Unless stopped with questions, Azami will head towards her room where she will remove the clothing she's wearing and put it aside to be burned, change into something else (keeping the pouch with the ring and stone on her person) then begin cleaning her armor until she passes out.


After Azami had left the room, Daisuke addresses Kyras and Tokine.

"My mission is the safe retrieval of Bethany Erodal. Do either of you see any connection between these ancient legends and her current whereabouts? I was told to escort Kyras to her last dig site, but Azami has forbidden it. Any connection would have been there, but it is too late to explore that option, and any information there is lost to us, as is the possibility of retrieving her from the Shoto dungeons using diplomacy, now that Imuri has been put on the defensive."

"Kyras, as we speak, skilled Shoto torturers are attempting to extract from her the information we could have discovered at the dig site. If we have no leads here, I must begin seeking new ones immediately. There is no time for rest."


Male Human, samurai caste Ninja 7, Samurai (Broken Promise) 4 (HP 32/77 AC 22, T 17, Flat 17* - F+10 R+13 W+8; Init +9; Senses:Per +15

As the hybrid monster/man bleeds on its cot in the Shoto guest house, Imuri considers the risk of taking the ghostly amulet from the thing's neck. He decides to wait until the shugenja arrive to test the thing's magic. He looks outside the sliding shoji door anxiously, then flips his blade in a perfect shiburi, casting a bloody streak on the floor before sheathing his clean blade.

When they finally arrive, Imuri speaks with urgency. The ghost-medallion. Is it dangerous? Is it magical? Dare we touch it? There may be a demon still bound within it.

As the shugenja work, the Shoto warrior looks at a pair of yojimbo. I ordered the death of the fox spirit, Vu tonight. I was apparently ignored or failed. Bring her to me alive, but silenced. We'll find out what she knows about these events and the Scarecrow. Use Shoto discretion. Imuri gives the location of the seedy hideouts and dismisses them.

I'll get answers from this scene as I can. If there's nothing else here, I'll go to the appointed site for my meeting with Aki-Kirei early and in disguise, so as to sniff out an ambush. Fortunes willing, there is only a productive conversation and a good night's rest, but Imuri will do whatever is necessary.

Shadow Lodge

When Chu arrived back at the palace he chose to head to the catacombs and search there. The appearance of the Five-Headed Death could not be coincidence, the plum blossom displays, the death of the gardener and the arrival of the Uniter. There had to be some type of connection between these events. His mission was to find San Pen but he had to know how to find the remaining demons and protect the citizens of the Empire.

He moved swiftly through the quiet halls until he reached the lower catacombs. It wasn't that he didn't trust the guards to do their duties, it was the fact that Chu had a bad feeling about the palace. Three of the five demons struck here, they must be seeking something or someone. He searched his mind for anything special in the palace that may have arrived in the last few decades, anything particularly interesting or important...

Perception 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (20) + 12 = 32
K: History 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (12) + 11 = 23


@Imuri: The Shoto sorcerers approach the monster with trepidation. After a few moments of chanting and strange glowing orbs spinning around the body, one of the shugenja approaches, bowing deeply. "My Lord. The wards around this one are strong. The amulet is stuck between the ethereal plane and the material plane. We can retrieve it, but we will wait until the dawn, when some of the wards will be weakened by the daylight, and some will actually expire. In the meantime, we will shackle the man's spirit, his body, and the yokai he shares it with. If you return to me after the dawn, I will have the devil for you to question, and the man's spirit for you to judge as you see fit."

The Shoto samurai nod and vanish outside immediately, off to seek the treacherous Vu.

The walk to Suihan Sanyou Park is not overly long from the Gossamer Palace. Market road's elegant old cobbles give way to a sandy path that connects with Matsu street, always redolent of fir and covered in a soft bed of discarded pine needles from the tight rows of tall evergreens that line both sides of the street. From there, Matsu curves gently over Take street, the elegant bend of which is augmented by ancient bamboo plants, and then joining one of the crown jewels of the Empire of Mists; Ume street, with gnarled plum trees on each side bringing a breathtaking and indescribable beauty to the City District in spring when they blossom. The great poet Are-Ume said of the street from which he took his name: "If in all my life I can invent even one phrase to accurately describe the beauty of Ume Street in full bloom, then surely I will be the most blessed man to have ever walked the Land."

The park itself is in the center of these three streets, forming a rough triangle populated by pine, bamboo, and plum trees spread gently and randomly through the grass and amongst the creeks through which koi and tortoises swim. The park's designer is not known, but its beauty is revered.

You approach the park in disguise, silently stalking the heavy shadows cast by the pine trees. You do not see Sera Aki-Kirei by the fountain as she indicated. You see only a very old man sitting alone on a bench under a bare plum tree. He is clad in white, a katana across his lap. His skin is gnarled and gray, to the point where your eyes can barely tell the difference between him and the tree whose shelter he has sought. His moustaches, eyebrows, and beard are all snow-white and very long, reaching well down to his round little belly, and what is left of his hair is a shocking and questionably flamboyant pink color, and stretches from his scalp all the way to the ground. He does not appear to have noticed you, and is sitting silent and still under the tree, perhaps meditating, not too far from the fountain.


Male Half-elf Dragon Disciple 11

Kyras looks at Azami as she leaves, simply watching her. Of all the people here in this mess, Azami is the only one he truly trusts. The burden that she carries, though, makes his own struggles with the Dragon look tame by comparison. (Though, it's unlikely that her struggles could end the world.) After she is gone, he answers Daisuke's question. "Bethany seems to have gotten herself into quite a bit of trouble. I fear that when I do find her, she won't be the sister I remember. It's been decades, and apparently she has gotten mixed up in too much since then. However, Bethany's got one big skill beyond her knowledge: staying useful and alive. The Shoto might have her, but we have no proof of that. As much as I don't care for Shoto Imuri, I can't prove or even really imply that he's got her beyond what Vu said. Even if he does have her, though, I know that she'll stay one step ahead of them and avoid the worst of it." He stands up and offers an uncharacteristic bow. "When morning comes, we can figure out what to do next. Good night."

Kyras walks straight to Azami's room, knocking and entering in a single motion. If she objects, he doesn't seem to notice. "I'm not going to leave you alone in here. I've already had one artifact taken from me today, so we know that someone's stealing them. I don't really trust anyone here except maybe Tokine, so I'm not taking 'no' for an answer. I'll sleep on the floor. Considering I slept for the better part of thirty years on a the hard surface of a stone cave, I think I can handle one night on this floor." He gives her a smile and an apologetic motion with his hands. "I don't mean to invade your privacy, but it's risky to sleep alone, even here."


Female Human Samurai 11, HP: 84/128, 3/4 Resolve, 1/4 challenges

When he enters, she is already in new clothes, sitting on the edge of the bed with a pauldron in one hand and a rag in the other; she leans forward with her elbows on her knees as she scrubs off the flecks of gore that Chu's magic may have missed. Her stinking tunic from the day lies on the floor between her bare feet, below where she works, to keep any dried blood from the temple floor. A candle drips wax in a small ceramic dish next to the bed, providing the light for the room.

It's clear that she didn't expect Kyras to walk through the door; both brows rise like birds taking flight, unable to say anything before he begins to make his case. Instead, she folds up the tunic on the floor, returning it to the heap in the corner of things to be burned, which clears the space for someone to sleep.

Taking her bedroll and blanket from her gear, she presses them to his hands as he finishes apologizing for invading her privacy. Her words are matter-of-fact, but lacking the usual guarded tone. "I don't mean to invade your life. Seems how it will be for a while. The vote of confidence is appreciated though." She's tempted for a moment ask about what they learned today - the Hounds, the mark of the Gate, his sister, the god of murder, Khoda - but then sinks wearily back onto the simple bed, the frame creaking in duress.

"Let's talk more in the morning."

If she feels bothered by someone sleeping in her room, it isn't visible; she's been a soldier too long to care about sleeping close to other people. It's sleep, which is a rare luxury in war or dangerous journeys-both of which, she is certain, they are already entangled in.

Just before she blows out the candle, she throws her pillow to the floor for Kyras to use.


Tokine finishes her tea and sets down her cup. Picking up the scroll tube, she rolls it in her hands as she momentarily contemplates, but then with a swift movement tucks it back into her sleeve. I need to tell the Emperor, I need to tell the world...but I guess I wait till morning.

She bows to Daisuke, "A room has been prepared for you. I would ask that on the chance there is an event this evening that no blood be spilled within these walls. Thank you. My staff will see to any requests you may have.

She then turns to Eru and bows. "Thank you Princess for the music. It appears your recovery has been quick. For that I am gladdened. I need to clean up, but if you wish for the story of what occurred tonight you can join me in my chambers for a soak and some sake."

Tokine makes her way toward her room. The occasional acolyte tries to hide a surprised look as the tired and slightly disheveled Curator passes them. Upon reaching her room she finds Rai and sees she has prepared a warm bath. A tray of warmed sake sits beside the pool. The little songbird hops along the top of a decorative screen, twertling a glad welcome.

Tokine smiles.

It seems a lifetime since she had last done that.


"Thank you, Madame Curator, your hospitality is most appreciated, but that will not be necessary, I have lodgings in the city, and further affairs I must tend to before I can rest."

He bows to her and to the princess as he steps out of the room. "I bid you good evening."

Collecting his things from the hall, he leaves the palace in a state of confusion. He had long regarded himself as a excellent judge of emotion, able to read people, gain their trust, and direct them in support of his mission. These gaijin were different.

In many ways he had failed tonight. Profoundly so.

The jawbone necklace pressed against his chest, and it felt heavy suddenly. A relief -- its weight reassuring.

He had also succeeded brilliantly.


M Human Ninja 8

Click.

Dare Mo ignored the false lock, hidden just well enough that a skilled search would reveal it first, to the detriment of the trespasser, and slid the wall open just wide enough to slip through.

An invading force would have to slip through many such passages, turned sideways, dark and claustrophobic, forced to enter slowly and single file, before reaching the sanctum. And such a force would face many dangers in passing. Some visible, some hidden.

This place was a maze within a maze, the whole place a trap, with dangers, hidden and deadly, around every turn.

It was home.

At the age of five he was made to memorize the layout. Every hidden passage. Every trigger for every trap.

Now he entered a spacious room, the walls adorned with tapestries and supported by thick, polished beams. An apprentice was seeing to them now. Upon seeing Dare Mo enter, he stopped his dusting and polishing and bowed low, "Shinobi, you've returned! You were not expected."

"I must make a report," Dare Mo replied, "Please let Soke know that I have arrived. When you return, I have a task for you which you may enjoy more than janitorial work. I will be in the main hall."

He dropped his possessions and weapons in a cubby hole, removed his shoes, and slid a paper door open to reveal a large room. He bowed to the kamidana against the far wall, and took a kneeling position in the center of the room, folding his in his hands in his lap and closing his eyes in meditation.

He would wait here as long as Soke thought it fitting for him to do so, never succumbing to sleep -- a fatal error that would prove him unworthy of a place in the shadows.


Male Human, samurai caste Ninja 7, Samurai (Broken Promise) 4 (HP 32/77 AC 22, T 17, Flat 17* - F+10 R+13 W+8; Init +9; Senses:Per +15

Satisfied that his orders are understood and under way, Shoto Imuri quickly cleans his skin and dons a new kimono. TUcking his daisho into his obi, he dons the disguise of a merchant envoy and hustles through town at the late hour.

When he spies the old man at the fountain, Imuri is a little perturbed. The man is in a very specific place at a very specific time. The Shoto warrior is hardly in the mood for yet another palyer, at another level of intrigue. He sees the katana placed over the man's legs - to some a reluctant gesture of inevitable aggression. He rehearses in his mind any details that would have led to his assassination by the Sera.

If we are to be allies, one of us must bow first, he thinks. Whether their cooperation is a tool or a lasting friendship, it must still begin with a show of trust.

Imuri adopts his true form and glides across the immaculate park to the fountain, lit only by the light of the moon and a few hanging lanterns.
He approaches the old man and bows in the tradition of stranger with high station, a measured bow with eyes turned up to see. He notes any mon or crest, even the distinctive tsuba of the blade. Anything that can alert him to the intentions of the old man with the unusual hair color.

Greetings, grandfather. I had hoped to meet a friend here tonight and trust we will not disturb your meditations.


@Chu: In the library, a night functionary, a shadowy humanoid not quite ethereal and not quite material, silently glides in and leaves you a package in a certain basket that lets you know the contents have come from the emperor himself.

Inside are a pair of emeralds, a note, and a scroll.

The note:
Loyal Shadow,

These were the only things in Sifu San Pen's room that could not be explained.

It does not take you long to learn that the emeralds are a special kind that thus far has only been mined in a single shaft halfway up Tai Shan mountain, known as the Tranquil Peak of the Northern Range of mountains, that separates Enhathlad from the Empire. The style in which these two have been formed and cut is one that requires an incredible amount of heat, and direct fire. It is a style no one in the Empire can execute, as far as you know. However, you also know that there is one who dwells in those mountains, whose home is an eyrie in that high, high peak, who could shape gems this way because he possess more than enough fire and heat to do so; Stonegard, greatest of the Three Great Red Dragons, who watch the world.

The scroll was sealed at one point, but the seal is now broken. The writing on the scroll is very elegant and crisp, and of a style long out-of-fashion in Lanzhu but still much favored by scholars and philosophs in the provinces.

The scroll reads:
"San Pen,

Receive all three visiting deputations, then come north. Come to me. We must talk."

In addition to this surprise delivery from the Son of the Heavens, you also come across a book of prophecy from the west, on loan from the Hec Salazar memorial library in Stormfare, a great center of learning, respected throughout the Land. In it, there is talk of a Great Confluence of magic, an "Alpha Confluence" in which all magic types will reach a kind of apotheosis, a chance at finding a single representative, a single avatar, to both exemplify and utilize it to its maximum. It is also possible, during this confluence for strange or giant events to occur, for dimensional gates to open, for things to happen that normally never could. It is, the book explains, thus expected that many gods, old and new, along with the power hungry, the good, the evil, and the mad, will try to exploit the massive amounts of arcane power that will be available during this event. In a wonderful stroke of luck, the exact time of this confluence is given, unfortunately, the time does not make any sense to you at all; "the confluence will begin at the noon toll of the seven-handed clock" it says. You can find no further reference to a "seven-handed clock" in the resources currently available to you.


@Imuri: The old man's eyes open very slowly. His pupils are a lovely violet/lilac shade. Like a plum blossom. "You favor your mother's side, young Shoto, particularly your great-great grandmother. Would that you could have known her. Her soul was rain and her heart was a nightingale's call." He says this slowly, and his voice is like a raven's call; throaty and scratchy. "It suits you well. Your features are fluid, your face expressive. Women are a mixed blessing in a man's life. They bring grace, and incalculable strength, but also they bring passion, and ill-considered actions. They are rare creatures of elegance and refinement and the most exquisite pains it can be a man's privilege to suffer. Hmf." His hands do not move from within the sleeves of his robe, and his eyes do not leave yours while he speaks.

"In the Steppes, they have a saying, 'All lands are one land'. This is a true thing. In the streets of the West Delve in Mamban they say 'if you have it you own it, if you own it you can trade it, let's make a deal.'" He chuckles, and it seems genuine. "Halflings! So crude, so transparent, yet so...fluid." He takes a deep breath, but still does not move, except to look to his left, at one of the trees, naked in preparation for the coming cold months.

"Young Master Shoto, I should like to conduct some business with you. A trade. A trade of passion and strength, and this is a poor place for commerce. Would you meet with me during daylight hours, to discuss whether the condition and keeping of my goods is to your satisfaction, and to determine if they are of sufficient quality for you to deem them worth your time to trade for? It would honor me greatly, as I have been told the Shoto are masters of many arts, including business, and to do business with the Shoto is to do business with men of integrity and vision."

He ceases his contemplation of the tree and finally moves, though it is only to bow respectfully to you. It is the bow not of a supplicant or seeker, but of a great noble who knows he outranks you, but also knows his manners.


@Dare Mo: You sit, essentially, for an eternity, as is Soke's way. In this eternity you are able to examine every angle of every action you took, of those around you, of the appearance of the monsters, of thieves, of Kyras' strange emotional zig-zagging, or Azami's bullish straightforwardness, of the Curator's artistry in all things, of the Shoto's web, of the advisor's power and acumen. You are able to retrace every step, every word, every breath.

Eventually, a panel slides, a trap is disabled, a door shuts. shhhhhhhhunk. clickchakCHAK! thump. There is a scraping sound, and at last, his voice. His voice which is a beacon and a thing unkind, a miserable gurgle and an authoritative rasp, the only sure thing there is.

"It is too late for the Warbanian to help us, now. It has all shifted very quickly. You will not sleep this night. Go to the dig. Place the jawbone where it belongs. Find the book. Take it. Do not wait for the creature to form. The Hoshi will do that. House del Covas is in the city, they hunt a renegade named Kylara; an elf. A westerner. She serves the Uniter. She was at the palace. Six of us went to our rewards to learn her intent. The gaijin palace guardswoman, Azami Ito, has a stone she received from House Sera. You must take it. Kylara has a small dragon statuette. You must take it. You must then prevent Kylara from leaving the empire by whatever means you determine most effective. After that, our real work will begin." A drawer is pushed out, it contains a scroll case.

"Go."

Shadow Lodge

Chu bowed his head to the functionary, remaining respectful and quiet until it was gone. He stiffened at the sight of the basket and carfully regarded each item within it. He sat awhile, looking over the gems in great detail and reaffirming what he knew to be true. The Tranquil Peaks, Stonegard the Great Red. What Have you gotten yourself involved in San Pen? Resting his head in his hands he thought furiously about the strange events swirling around the Empire.

He sat up and read the unsealed scroll once more, he thought of the magical paintings that the Curator had brought before him. Could these be the groups spoken of in the letter? Or is it another delegation? 1163... He shook his head as the strange number emerged once more along with the words the confluence will begin... He didn't kow what it all mean't, but he would find out. Noting the time he sighed and rose, placing everything securely back in the basket as he took it with him and retired to his small chamber for the remainder of the night.

The Curator obviously was connected to San Pen and perhaps knew more about what he was actively involved in. He would visit her after he sought out Madame Daiyu and Professor Yeo in the morning.


M Human Ninja 8

Dare Mo collects the scroll case, and pauses, "Before I go, I must relay the content of a private conversation."

"The aspect of the Five Headed Death disguised as a Hoshi cleric, thinking me a Hoshi retainer, ordered me to collect a package from the Xun Rui Bao cartage company first thing in the morning and deposit it hidden outside the Hoshi estates."

He waits momentarily to hear if his orders are changed by the disclosure of the demon's message to him.


Male Human, samurai caste Ninja 7, Samurai (Broken Promise) 4 (HP 32/77 AC 22, T 17, Flat 17* - F+10 R+13 W+8; Init +9; Senses:Per +15

Does the man have a mon? Rank of station? unusual sword or tsuba? Facial hair that defines his family traditions? Anything that identifies him?

Imuri returns the bow appropriately, allowing the old man before him to sense that the younger man recognizes the assumed station of the older.

I am not as wise as my ancestors, which you speak so highly of, Grandfather. Perhaps you could tell me more of this business, or more of your relationship to my family. I am not the businessman my Crane-born father is. But I know that a shrewd man does not deal anonymously, no matter how inviting the profit. If I am to meet you, perhaps I could best serve you by knowing more about you, your offering, and what you seek to gain. After all, I would not dishonor my great-grandmother by entering into negotiations without meditating on the opportunity or its cost.

Imuri understands the steel focus of the old man. If Imuri's gaze switches, a detail might be slipped in, or a subtle change in posture might make him vulnerable to attack. He connected a few of Yohuro-sensei's proverbs. An unknown man is an enemy. An unknown enemy is a master. Age makes no man less dangerous.

Shoto Imuri returns his adversary's gaze with a polite smile. Without looking away, he considers the sounds behind him to be sure he is not about to be ambushed.

Perception 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (10) + 12 = 22


@Dare Mo: There is a pause. Somewhere in the distance are scraping shuffles, knocking sounds, and unintelligible whispers. At length, you receive a reply; "...interesting..."

There is another long pause. "Very well. Tomorrow; pick up this package and deliver it not to the Hoshi, but to Bao's own manservant, Lu, who you will find working in the warehouse. Do no let Bao see you do this. In fact, forget about the dig. Give Lu the jawbone as well. Yes. Hah Hah. Yes. Then, get the stone from Ito, and move on to Kylara. This is...a most unexpected development."


@Imuri: The man appears simply as described. No markings, house indication, nothing aside from the coloring of his hair.

DC10 K(Nature):

Listening carefully, you hear nothing but the soft midnight breeze, which blows chill. The old man smiles gently, bitterly. "Oh but we are already business partners, Young Lord Shoto. You undertook an endeavor this afternoon to enter one of my houses and remove an item, an endeavor in which you were successful, I should add. To be fair, this item was something that I myself had ownership of simply by virtue of possession, but nonetheless, as I stated just a moment ago, I feel this entitled me to certain rights of property. The item I have now is not specifically yours, but it is as much yours as the thing you took from me was mine, in that both have value to each of us. So it is." His smile loses its bitterness. He looks peaceful. "The first emperor Chan, the Uniter, he it was who first exemplified the spirit of this empire; strength, flexibility, endurance -- the properties of the Three Friends of Winter, who are the spirit of the empire made physical. The Suihan Sanyou, after whom this park is named. Mmm." He nods to himself. "Women, Shoto-San, also embody well the spirit of the empire, do you not think? Strong in their delicateness, and capable of such fury if scorned. Flexible both physically and mentally, even as their emotions chain them to patterns they cannot escape and indeed do not even know they endlessly describe across the arcs of their lives. And endurant. Oh, so strong is woman. In childbirth, in training, in war, in the waiting out of siege. So, too, does their beauty help define our empire, frozen for eternity by our greatest poets and painters and actors. Such valued and valuable things, they are. Such creatures. Mm. Such creatures. Such that they can bring down an empire, even the largest empire. It is a lesson to be remembered. One that the Uniter learned the hard way, and now has an eternity to reflect upon."

He smiles up at you. "Perhaps tomorrow, after you have had some rest, perhaps then we may speak. I am very fond of Lady Daiyu's tea shop. Have you heard of it? Not far from the Inn of the Graces. We can meet there before tomorrow night's state dinner." The old man rises on slow and creaking knees. for the first time he takes his hands out from his sleeves. He grasps his katana by the scabbard in his right hand, not in a ready position at all. "All lands are one land, Shoto-san. Those in Xai Xai have a tradition wherein they present a gift to a prospective business partner, even if it is someone with whom they have worked for decades, or centuries. Thus, I present a gift to you, business partners though we already are. I hope you will take its meaning." He throws a fine silk bag at your feet. It is of the highest-quality construction and lands softly, as if filled only with more cloth. He does not leave, but stands looking at you, to await your consent or denial of same.

You notice the skin on his hands almost matches the ancient gnarled wood handle of his katana.


M Human Ninja 8

"It will be done," Dare Mo says with a kneeling bow.

"With your permission, I would like to assign a shadow the task of retrieving I package I placed in the caves leading to the dig site. I had previously prepared it to lead the others there, based on my original orders. Its contents will prove helpful in the tasks ahead."


@Dare Mo: "Permission granted."


Male Human, samurai caste Ninja 7, Samurai (Broken Promise) 4 (HP 32/77 AC 22, T 17, Flat 17* - F+10 R+13 W+8; Init +9; Senses:Per +15

This is awesome.

Knowledge (nature) 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 2 = 19

...an unknown man is an enemy. An unknown enemy is a master.

No shadow falls over Imuri's face. His diplomatic smile and respectful tone do no waiver as the conversation plays itself out. Without looking down at the silk bag, he says evenly, as if a trap were about to be sprung. As if he were revealing to the fly that the spider is a gracious host in the beginning.

We Shoto observe the custom of exchanging gifts when adversaries meet, and also when alliances are struck. Knowing my actions today would earn me the attention of your Syndicate, I also have prepared a gift, so that we could enter into negotiations.

He quickly produces a valuable ring - a silver frame supporting a red garnet oval. A black spider made from tiny slivers of snowflake obsidian decorates the red backgronud, with silver lines soldered over the whole to represent a gossamer web. It's my old ring of protection +1.

Imuri holds the ring before him on a pillow of silk quickly formed out of his folded kimono sleeve. If our gifts please each other, I will take early tea at Lady Daiyu's before my engagement. I will here what you have to say about the amulet and the gaijin. I will hear of your offer and consider it.

He bows once more, never wavering from his gae or his On. Understnad the Shoto have learned much in a short period of time. We hold no judgments about guilt or innocence so long as the Empire and my family remain unharmed. It would be unwise to doubt that the Spider are farther ahead than the enemies of the Empire believe them to be.

He waits for the old man to accept the ring.


@Imuri: The old man takes the ring from you and stands away, then bows in return. He gives you an amused look. "'Enemies'?" He looks at the ring for a moment or two, then nods in satisfaction to himself. He does not put the ring on, but looks at the bag on the ground, then at you. Though he is gnarled and ancient, he looks prepared to stand right in that spot for a very long time. He looks also as if he has already stood in that very spot for a very long time.

He is standing just out of sword reach, but close enough that if the bag is going to explode or anything similarly crude, he would be well within the blast radius.

DC15 Sense Motive:
You are 99% sure the bag is not trapped; from his bearing, it seems this old man would regard such a thing as being beneath him, as well as being extraordinarily bad manners.


Male Human, samurai caste Ninja 7, Samurai (Broken Promise) 4 (HP 32/77 AC 22, T 17, Flat 17* - F+10 R+13 W+8; Init +9; Senses:Per +15

Hehe. Appreciate those last details. You are learning to hear Imuri's own thoughts. : b

Sense Motive 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (17) + 12 = 29

Smoothly and gracefully, Imuri sweeps up the bag. When the old man does not move, he opens the bag and nonchalantly produces it contents.

Reflex save 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (3) + 11 = 14


M Human Ninja 8

"Thank you, grand master," Dare Mo bows again in deference and rises, leaving the room and returning the hall where the apprentice has resumed his work polishing the beams.

"Kohai," he calls, causing the apprentice to snap to attention, kneel before Dare Mo and bow, "I require your service."

"Yes, sempai?" he asks.

Dare Mo gestures for him to rise and follow as he heads for the armory. "You must retrieve a parcel for me, however this task may not prove as simple as it sounds..."

He relays the path through the tunnels leading to the dig site, and describes the position where the package was hidden as he places his leather armor on a rack and looks over several weapons on racks on the wall.

"The path should be relatively safe, but should you encounter anyone in the tunnels, regardless of how innocuous they may seem, you are to remain hidden, and report their numbers, physical descriptions, direction of travel, and any other objective intelligence you gather to me or to soke. No one else. Your priority is to retrieve the parcel and return unnoticed. Do not stall to gather additional intelligence, and do not engage anyone in combat if it can be avoided. Are you orders understood?"

After the apprentice nods in affirmation, Dare Mo returns to the weapons, "On my authority, assign your duties to a lesser apprentice, select any weapons and equipment you will require from the armory, and leave as soon as you are prepared. You are dismissed."


M Human Ninja 8

Odin's beard! I just typed out a huuuuuge detailed post and the forum ate it. Here goes nothing.

"Thank you, grand master," Dare Mo replies with a deferential bow before rising and returning to the hall where the apprentice has resumed his work polishing the wooden beams.

As Dare Mo passes through, he snaps for the apprentice's attention. "Kohai! I have orders for you. Follow me."

"Yes sempai!" the apprentice bows and follows.

Dare Mo heads down a hall toward the armory. "You will travel north, first through the sewer tunnels, and then into a series of caves leading toward the mountains. After approximately eight hours of travel, you will find a large chamber suitable for a traveling group to rest in relative comfort and security. From there, look to the east. You will find a narrow passage. Move twenty paces down the passage. On your right you will find a large, loose stone. Remove it and retrieve the parcel contained within. It will be neither heavy nor dangerous. Return as soon as you have found it, and leave it here for me."

"The way should be relatively safe, but should you encounter anyone in the tunnels, you are to remain hidden and observe their numbers, physical descriptions, direction of travel, and any other objective intelligence you can acquire."

"Do not stall to gather intelligence, and do not engage anyone in combat if it can be avoided. Report anyone you see on the way or any unusual events to me or to soke only, no one else. Do you understand your orders?"

When he is confident the apprentice understands, Dare Mo continues.

"On my authority, assign your duties to a lesser apprentice, select any weapons and equipment you require from the armory, and leave as soon as your are able."


@Imuri: In the bag is an eye. It takes you a moment, but you realize after inspection that this is not a human eye. It is...feral? Feline?

Vulpinal.

There is a disgusting crust around the edges and a foul yellow tint of jaundice. This is, you realize, one of Vu's eyes, or an impossibly accurate re-creation.

DC12 Will save OR DC15 Appraise:
This is the real deal. This really is one of Vu's eyes. There is no illusion at play here.

"There is more where that came from, Shoto-san." Says the old man. He puts on the ring you gave him. "I will see you at Madame Daiyu's, one hour before the state dinner, tomorrow. There we may speak of guilt and innocence, enemies and empires." He bows politely, but as one whose station is above yours, and turns to leave, his movements slow and trundly, like an old man's would be, his steps carrying him into the misty gray of the collected plum trees until he blends in and disappears.

The wind blows cold. A freezing rain starts to fall.


@Dare Mo: The apprentice scrambles off to attend to his duty.

Outside, you hear a harsh wind pick up, and the distinctive sound of hail hitting the cobbles and roofs.


@Kyras, @Tokine, @Azami, @Chu: You sleep, and you do not dream.


M Human Ninja 8

Dare Mo selects the cheap robes of a commoner from a wardrobe in the armory, along with a thick, leather cowl and hood suitable for a storm. He passes into an adjacent room and opens two barrels, one filled with earth, the other water.

He mixes a solution of mud in a pan on the table and uses it to dirty the robes and the cowl before changing into them.

He applies make up to add lines and creases to his face, and an raggedy false beard and mustache.

Into a leather sack he places a set of folded, silk robes, suitable to in quality for a minor functionary of a respected clan, in appropriate colors for the Hoshi, and the Hoshi mon he wore earlier as Daisuke, as well as a set of lock picks, then conceals them with another set of cheap clothes on top.

For the final element of his disguise, he finds a hollowed gourd filled with sake. His throat warms as he sips a large gulp from the bottle, then he spills some on his mustache, beard, and shirt, dumping most of the rest into a drain.

Winding his way out of the hidden sanctum, he stumbles into the streets, face covered by the cowl, sack held loosely over his shoulder, meandering toward the Xun Rui Bao cartage company.

Finding it, he slinks in an alley, eyes half closed, and watches the activity around the building.

Bluff 1d20 + 18 ⇒ (9) + 18 = 27

DM:
I'll need a disguise check. +21


@Dare Mo:

GM Rolls:
1d20 + 21 ⇒ (1) + 21 = 22

The rain is a thousand knives slashing and clawing at your person. So fierce is the pelting you take that at one point you catch yourself checking your cloak for tears. There are none, of course, and you continue. Standing in the alley by the Cartage Warehouse, you spy a few things of interest. A single, black-winged yokai is flying through the rain and hail high up in the air. Several gremlins scurry by at the far end of the alley in which you're seated. Somewhere, someone is playing a flute, badly. You watch as the pitch black of a stormy night gives way to the sickly dull grey of an overcast and rainy day. The hailstones have collected a bit, making the roads of the city treacherous. There is a constant menacing growl of thunder from the disgorging skies.

With daylight comes shop owners and traders and salesmen. Doors are mostly kept shut against the storm, but shops slowly start to open; lit candles and signs indicate their willingness -- eagerness -- to accomodate customers. Eventually, Xun Rui Bao arrives, trundling carefully down the road to his modest warehouse, which he enters carefully. You hear him yelling at Lu inside the building. Apparently the warehouse is insufficiently spotless for his tastes.


@Everyone Else: You wake from deep, dreamless slumber to the low hammering roar of a fierce rainstorm outside. You feel groggy.

How are you starting this third day?

Shadow Lodge

Chu awoke shortly before sunrise so he could perform his morning ritual, he pulled on his clean robes and made his way to one of the courtyards. He ignored the rainstorm as he kneeled so that he could go through the motions. Despite how cool it felt in the palace, it uplifted him to sit and pray. He weas thankful to have survived another night, no enemies in the dark and no knives in his back.

A long time passed before he stood and quietly returned to his room to gather his gear from the night before. He pulled out a piece of parchment and wrote a message for Curator Nagano. With the message completed he had everything he needed, so he made his way to where some of the pages worked and pulled one aside. Handing the message to the page he laid out his simple command. "Please see that this gets to Curator Nagano at her temple, you have my thanks." He placed a silver piece in the pages hand as an incentive.

Chu then left the palace and headed towards Madam Daiyu's Tea shop so that he could continue his investigation about San Pen's disappearance. Despite the howling rainstorm he had a duty to perform.

Curator Nagano:

Honorable Curator, despite the storm I continue my investigation. If you have need of me I will be at Madam Daiyu's Tea Shop for part of the morning and then at the university this afternoon. At your beck and call, Adviser Kage.

had to edit it since DRA ninjaed in :)


Female Human Samurai 11, HP: 84/128, 3/4 Resolve, 1/4 challenges

Azami wakes, peeling her eyelids open to the din of thundering rain on the roof. She stares upward towards the sound, wishing she had been less tired last night so she could have washed; upon moving her arm, however, Azami is grateful that perhaps bathing may help loosen the tightness in her muscles from yesterday’s unending exertion. She plans her morning: she will ask that her clothing be burned and if she may bathe, and give thanks to Shelyn for the safe rest. Then she will talk to Kyras -as well as Tokine and Daisuke- about all that was not discussed last night. Bethany. Shoto. The dig. The mark. The Emperor.

Her head falls to the side to see Kyras still sleeping on the floor, head practically wrapped in the pillow. Thirty years of sleeping on a cave floor, he’d said last night. It had certainly taught him deep sleep.

Watching his chest rise and fall, it then occurs to her: she had slept without dreams, without visions.

Azami rolls to her side and presses herself up off the bed, careful to step around Kyras’ sleeping form. The hanks of red hair around her face are wildly disarrayed from grime and sleep--standing as if struck by the lightning of the rainstorm outside. Her hand scrubs into her hair, unaware of how she messes it further, thinking only to clear her eyes of its irritating obstruction.

She pads over to her gear, long braid dangling down her back coming undone at the end from losing the hair tie in the night. Quietly, and with some reverence, she pulls her crimson banner from her supplies, leaning its back mount against the wall. She silently kneels before that steely sunburst--her scarred, aching body still not happy about being vertical--and presses her hands together.

Her head bows to the unknown force that drives her, the vengeance and rebirth that is her purpose and duty. This morning, there has been no dawn to wake her, and whatever that truly means, Azami takes it as a sign that she needs no reminder – she has found the path she has sought for years.


At the Temple: The staff of the Imperial Temple of Cultural Exchange are busy just before sunrise putting down more rugs and pillows and starting up the braziers and fireplaces to keep the temple at a pleasing and toasty temperature, the better to ward off the sudden and terrible cold from outside. As the storm hurls down water, hail, sleet, and fiercely biting winds, Izumi leaves a tea service outside the door of the room in which Kyras and Azami are sleeping. She lets out a small "Eep!" of surprise when she notes the two gaijin are in the same room together when there are plenty of spare rooms in which to sleep. As Azami stirs, the junior staffer smiles conspiratorily to herself and giggles as she quickly moves on. Oh THIS is a juicy tidbit!

At the door to her master's room, the Beloved of Shelyn, Curator Tokine Nagano, she leaves a tea service and a note that arrived from the Palace, bearing the seal of Imperial Counsel, a seal that ranks right up with the highest military commanders, and is second only to that of the emperor himself.

Izumi likes to think she's used to ferrying high-level messages to her master, but if asked she would eventually coyly admit that it still gave her a little thrill to be taking part -- however small a part it might be -- in palace politics and intrigue, and as such is burning with curiosity at what so hastily-delivered a note might be about.


Male Half-elf Dragon Disciple 11

Kyras sleeps a long, dreamless sleep, at ease. For once, he is not haunted by dreams of fiery breath, burned villages, the screams of weak men and women. The Dragon, for all its fury and might, found its limit this night, and Kyras has never been more pleased to simply sleep. Since he lost so much time asleep in the witch's cave, he has spent the last few years often staying up late (frequently with women of questionable morality) until exhaustion claimed him. When he slept, the Dragon would run free.

But not this night. Kyras has no dreams, except for a peaceful soaring feeling right before he wakes. As he stirs, he feels the great beast trapped within him, trapped far tighter than before. He takes a deep breath, prodding the mental cage with his mind, but receiving almost no response. The Dragon, it seems, is conquered for now. He feels a surge of strength and power as he claims the Dragon's arcane knowledge and might for his own. Just like that, he realizes how to weave his magic so that he can slip the bonds of gravity and soar through the air completely unfettered.

"Well, this is something I could get used to." As he opens his eyes, he spies Azami meditating or praying or something before her banner. Knowing better than to interrupt her (which would risk his head, ability to fly or not), he simply watches. 'That, too.' He is surprised by the thought. For the first time, he looks at Azami as a woman rather than a warrior, finding it a bit surprising that he is attracted to her. 'It isn't that she's not an attractive woman. Her steeliness hides her beauty behind frowns and glares and honor.' She isn't his normal type, which is practically made flesh in the form of the beauty of Tokine, but it isn't her physical beauty that he finds alluring. Rather, it is the steely, uncompromising sense of honor; aggravating, for sure, but admirable.

He shakes his head, trying to get the thoughts out of his mind. 'She'd likely report me to someone, get it stamped three times over, and throw me out on the street if she could read my thoughts. Best stamp them out. Won't ever happen.' With his errant thoughts banished, he stands. His shirt has (conveniently, she might say) come off during the night, exposing his muscled, scarred torso. His eyes run over what skin he can see, noticing for the first time that she has even more scars than he does.

Before she notices, he pulls his uwagi-style shirt up off the floor and puts it on, tying the obi around his waist. Three days and he has worn the same simple uwagi each day. Bloodied, torn, burned... It doesn't matter, as he repairs and cleans it daily, but wearing the same shirt thrice is practically a death sentence in this land. He would be well-suited to magically change its color, but they would probably notice that as well. He makes up his mind to ask someone for a new one to wear as soon as the Temple is up.

He coughs, trying not to interrupt Azami from her meditations but alerting her to his presence. He gathers his magic to begin his morning ritual of magically cleaning himself and his clothing as he waits for her to finish whatever it is that she is doing.


Female Human Samurai 11, HP: 84/128, 3/4 Resolve, 1/4 challenges

At his cough, Azami lifts her head, leaning back onto her heels and pressing upward to stand with surprising grace when not encumbered by armor. Her eyes seem to reluctantly drag from the banner as if she might miss something by looking away. But finally, her full attention is on Kyras, her gaze taking in the man in her room with a clinical eye, scanning him for wounds or injury almost unconsciously.

"You're awake," Azami says, her voice seeming too loud in her own head after being alone with the rainfall. A night without dreams makes the morning vaguely dreamlike, significantly less focused than usual. Or perhaps it is merely the experience of the first morning in years without the sun burning an imprint on the inside of her eyelids. Either way, Azami feels disconcertingly mellow and groggy; she combs a hand through the hair edging into her face, pushing it back with a sigh.

Was he always that tall? She notes that he is wearing the same shirt, and her eyes cast to her own pile of garments waiting to be burned after being soaked in the demon's foul blood. It would be helpful to not lose her other set of clothing if possible, but...

"The magic - does it really make the cloth...clean?" she asks with a note of disbelief. Azami pads over towards the door, wondering from whom she would ask for a bath, or if that would be inconsiderate to prevail upon the Temple for such services. She realizes she does not know the protocol for this circumstance, and already that tension snakes into her upper back at the thought of navigating niceties just to get clean. Perhaps she will go back to the Palace and seek a bath there...

She glances back at Kyras for an answer as she opens the door part-way, stopping when she notices a tea service on the ground by the door. For two. She blinks, bends down and brings the small tray in; Azami raises it to show her roommate with a brow quirked.


Male Human, samurai caste Ninja 7, Samurai (Broken Promise) 4 (HP 32/77 AC 22, T 17, Flat 17* - F+10 R+13 W+8; Init +9; Senses:Per +15

Sorry. Several attempts at posts but the pages won't load.

Will save 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (2) + 7 = 9

Why not?

Imuri ponders the meaning of the eye. Vu is not a gift worth giving up any advantage, but she does know more about the Plum Blossom and about the gaijin woman. If she were alive, whatever he could learn from her could give him a more complete picture, or an advantage in interrogating the Scarecrow.

He closes the bag over the eye and folds it over to avoid touching any flesh. Not the most honorable of gifts. But potentially worth the price.

Imuri moves to the tree, only the slightest bit of shelter from the cold rain, and waits for Sera Aki-Kirei.


Shoto Imuri wrote:
...waits for Sera Aki-Kirei.

The wind picks up and the rain increases until it is a steady, soaking, icy downpour. The appointed hour of the meeting passes. Then another. It is now after 1:00 AM and the youngest Sera sister -- one of the greatest beauties of the Empire of Mists -- has not shown up, leaving you to stand, freezing, in the early morning rain and sleet. There is thunder that sounds too much like laughter in the hills.


Tokine opens her eyes and is surprised by the respite her sleep has given her. For the briefest of moments, she feels lost and unsure of herself as the memories of the past two days come rushing back, but then a gentle series of tweets comes from the songbird perched on her screen. The notes instantly ground her and help organize her thoughts for the upcoming day.

She forgoes another bath but does accept Rai's help with wrestling her hair into a fashionable pile. She takes her tea and reads Advisor Chujitsuna's note. It comforts her to know that others share her concern for her friend San Pen.

But she must put all thoughts aside as she prepares for her morning meditation. She rolls out length of rice paper and cuts it with a knife. Four crystals hold the corners, gifts from the Dwarves under Dambulla. She dips her brush in the ink, blots it on her stone palette, then closes her eyes with the brush poised over the paper.

Her thought flit from praise and singing, the glorious dance they performed, tea with her friends, to the shadowy creature in the corner, the attack on the city, the foul spirits in the palace, the hooded specter of flame and warning, and finally Gardener Ryo's horrible demise. Her meditations are fraught with these horrible visions more than the comforting ones. She comes to see herself standing in a field covered in spring blossoms. Birds swoop and dive among the flowers and bring her the blooms. Each flower remains where a birds leaves it, and soon she notices that she is being gird in flowers. They are preparing me for war? Prayers come to her mind, prayers of strength and protection and cleansing. The birds fly off leaving her to gaze upon her reflection in a pool. Her armor; flower petals, her glaive; a cherry sapling in bloom.

A single bird sings across the field and saps at her concentration. She looks away from her reflection and....

She opens her eyes. She is back in her room and surprised to see the small songbird standing on the paper in front of her. The bird holds a small bell in its beak. When Tokine holds out her hand, the bird hops up and drops the bell into her palm with a small jingle before it flies back to its perch.

She gazes at the bell and then reaches over for her glaive and attaches the bell to the string of chimes already there. She then returns her eyes to the page before her. She smiles at the small inky bird footprints that track across the page. She then takes in the symbols painted there....A songbird brings joy to those who listen because that is the only song it knows.

With a sigh she understands. Her heart is heavy with sorrow and worry but she must put those aside. She is a beacon to those in need of comfort and stability, both in the city and within these walls. She is armored for war, but it is to be fought with compassion and grace.

As she readies for the day, she still struggles with the last piece of her armor, but it is not a buckle or strap of the light mail she wears...she looks into the mirror and the determined set to her lips. Worries are not to be ignored or forgotten, but they will not rule her. With a conscious effort she brings her face into a smile. Defenses in place, she heads out to begin the Temple's day.


M Human Ninja 8

Seeing Xun Rui Bai enter the shop, Dare Mo slinks into a nook, concealed in an area still hidden from the rising sun, and changes into the fine, silk robes from his pack. He combs out his false mustache and beard, making them presentable, and displays the Hoshi mon.

After concealing his pack in the alley, he steps out onto the street, taking a roundabout way back to the front entrance.

Entering through the front and surveying the shop, he snorts, a clear indication that this place, this merchant, are beneath a member of a fine and storied clan such as his, and approaches the man.

"Are you the proprietor? I was told to pick up a package here for the Hoshi clan, and that you would have it ready first thing in the morning."

DM:

Stealth to hide the pack: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (15) + 15 = 30
Bluff: 1d20 + 18 ⇒ (13) + 18 = 31

Also, I'll need another disguise check.


Male Half-elf Dragon Disciple 11

Kyras looks down at Azami's discarded clothing, drenched in blood and gore. "It will clean it, but I don't think you'll ever really get the taint out. I can try if you want me to." He takes his magical items from the magical sack that he acquired the previous evening and puts them all on. He checks for the magnifying glass and stone, to ensure that they are still there, and ties the pack shut tightly. It will be difficult to quickly get in, but that's the point. Ease of use is secondary to security in this city of subtle thieves.

He sits down with Azami and takes the tea with her. He raises a teacup, a ridiculously delicate gesture for a Warbanian, in a toast. "To us gaijin! May we make it out of this land in one piece." He takes a sip of the hot tea. To him, it is simply tea. To a native, they would likely wax on about the delicate interplay of the leaves or something, but all tea basically tastes the same to him. "So I haven't had the opportunity to ask, but how did you end up here in the Empire of Mists? And why did you change your name? I rather like the name Rosalyn Portnoy. It has a certain noble ring to it." He pronounces her name with a bit of an exotic roll, emphasizing its Mamban roots. In his days as a Warbanian mercenary, the same path that ended with him asleep on the floor of a witch's cave for three decades, he'd traveled to Mamban and enjoyed it immensely.


Male Human, samurai caste Ninja 7, Samurai (Broken Promise) 4 (HP 32/77 AC 22, T 17, Flat 17* - F+10 R+13 W+8; Init +9; Senses:Per +15

Several possibilities cross Imuri's mind as he waits in the biterly cold rain. Of course, that the Plum Blossom Syndicate threatened Sera-chan was possible. But also that her odler sister won out in argument and forbade the meeting she'd agreed to. The possibility of another attackoccurred to him, and also that she merely had too many errands to be punctual. Imuri had stretched himself thin over the last two days, and morning tea came closer and closer.

But she was a courtier and a samurai.. She did not simply forget or wave him off. Perhaps the old man's offer was not of the fox spirirt, but of Aki-Kirei himself. He recognized instantly the protective instinct and clouded emotions that arose at that thought. He forced them down again. It would not do to forget his place. Duty and loyalty were his guides, not emotions.

Shoto Imuri allowed the criers to announce the ichi - the one o'clock hour. Satisfied that he had given her every opportunity, Imuri concluded that yet another obstacle had presented itself. He was certain he had the Syndicate's attention, but then any move against the famous beauty of Aki-Kirei could be a sign of desperation, or of madness, or anywhere in between. He would have to hear the case, prepared to sacrifice even her for the good of the Empire.

But even as he considered it, he knew he would not let such a thing happen if he could prevent it.


Female Human Samurai 11, HP: 84/128, 3/4 Resolve, 1/4 challenges

"Hmm," to his offer, wondering if she shouldn't just burn them anyway, or if she should see what he could do. Afterall, he was going to wear his own that were just as soiled and she will not have time to obtain others if today is at all like yesterday.

Although it was far from starting similarly, as she sits down to join Kyras at their tea. She raises her own teacup to his toast, the corner of her mouth wryly pulling upward. "Someone is insistent that I shall have tea in this temple. I suppose I can honor Shelyn's gifts to us by partaking of this offering." Her first sip is cautious, though, half expecting to feel her throat constrict with some effect.

Her eyes immediately focus on the teacup as he asks these questions, although Azami can't help but huff a short chuckle through her nose when he pronounces her name with that dramatic flourish, rolling her eyes with a small, amused smile. "Hardly noble. Erudima del Solarion is nobility. My family were...are merchants. A lot of travel. Some of it to the Empire." She takes a sip of tea, the amusement draining from her features. "I..." she shifts uncomfortably where she is sitting, brow furrowing. Her eyes flicker up once to Kyras', but then cast off to the side, her gaze far away. "I was allowed to train here to become a samurai and serve the Kagawa family, a household my family did business with here in the Empire. The lord of the household gave me the name Azami when I successfully completed my training. Ito is my married name, my husband a samurai for the Kagawa."

It makes no sense not to finish the story, to add the answer to the questions that would likely be next. She is not some coy Empire geisha, waiting for her audience to ask 'What came of those people, Azami-san?' These are facts, and her tone hardens somewhat to push herself through speaking them-- forcing herself to look at Kyras, to hold his blue eyes with her own. "The Kagawa household and all who served them are dead. Four years ago. As the Emperor said, the Plum Blossom syndicate slaughtered them..."...because they were connected to you, who bears that mark on your leg.

A breath as the familiar tension creeps into her shoulders, almost welcome. Her tone softens again, and she stares into the steaming cup of tea. Has she ever told anyone this much of herself in one sitting? It certainly feels as if she has been talking for a century. "I did not die, though I was wounded enough to die several times over. As the Emperor said, our destinies are intertwined." She puts the teacup down onto the tray, half full.

Perhaps this day would not be all that different from the last afterall.


@Kyras, @Azami: There is a series of cries of excitement from out in the temple proper; not the kind of excitement that comes from terror, but the kind that comes from joy. Izumi sounds fit to burst with girlish giggles and squeals. You hear the sound of padding feet as several interns rush to Tokine's quarters, which are not far from yours. A cacophony of chattery and swooning voices makes eavesdropping impossible.

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