And so it begins...
You are all together on a junk sailing toward Iniyahi. There is a light sea mist.
The captain, a tall, stocky woman with dark hair and lively green eyes, looks at her motley array of passengers, "I don't take many folk to Inihayi, and you look like you've travelled far. Tell me about yourselves, if you don't mind?"
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A tall, muscular nagaji leans against the rail at the edge of the deck. There is a curious grouping of dark scales on the back of her neck. It is hard to say what its shape is, as it seems to shift and change at random, but there is something about it that calls to mind the First World. Her breastplate is impeccably polished, and one hand grips the shaft of her bardiche with practiced comfort while the other grips the railing tightly. Her posture is tense and stiff. It is clear that she prefers to keep her feet firmly on land. Tightening her lips into a hard, thin line, she turns to face the group, but does not begin to speak.
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"In a way I am returning as I attempt to do on favorable years. It has been months of travel from Kaer Maga for us." whispers a short hooded figure flanked by a giant albino gecko.
The indigo hood is draped over silver scale mail. Upon their back is a large lance and shield with designs of an eclipse painted on. The hood is removed to reveal a Wayang with pure black skin that stands in stark contrast with his mount.
"My name is Okaze Mystoc and this is Lucentis, my partner. I may see the world differently than my kin but this is an important event. Thank you for ferrying us."
Okaze never leaves the side of Lucentis and the gecko often wraps himself around the rider in a protective stance. As he speaks one hand is always petting the gecko while the other moves about with his words.
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A human woman stands stoically aboard the junk. Looking out across the waters. Her face is striking, covered with a multitude of piercings and lined with scars. She wears a suit of finely crafted banded mail with a buckler strapped to one arm. Upon her back is a long bow and quiver of arrows. At one hip is a wicked looking exotic hafted weapon ending is a series of sharp, thin, flexible blades. At the other a net with barbs and hooks along its strands. Whether due to her appearance, her armaments, or both, or something else entirely, there is an unmistakable powerful presence about her. She passes the time saying very little, reading from a book and meditating on something.
"I am Miseria, I am a student of esoteric knowledge. This seems like an opportunity to learn something does it not?"
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The broad shouldered man plants his feet and places his hands on his hips. A toothy grin spreads from ear to ear as he surveys the others though it wavers as his eyes pass over Miseria. A faded amethyst cloak flaps in the wind revealing the blue and white uniform of the Steel Falcons beneath.
"Name's Khoda," a gust of wind sends sea spray across Khoda's face and leaves his beard full of salty droplets, "and bless the Gods, it feels good to be back on a ship!"
Khoda rests one hand on the pommel of the sword at his hip.
"My, we are an... eclectic group, aren't we? If nothing else, this will surely be an interesting trip."
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The small, think human woman had silently observed the group as everyone, including herself tried to get their sea legs under them. ”I was unaware this mission was going to be on the water. I hope I don’t get seasick,” she said, keeping a tight grip on whatever sturdy looking apparatus she was next to. ”I’m Yulau!”
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Sitting near the back, in the shade of the upper deck, is a slight, pretty young woman - well, she certainly looks young at a glance, but it's almost like she's some kind of preserved fruit, simultaneously young and ancient - with a large scythe, a well-made sling, a bundle of leathery old skulls, and a few wands at her side. As one looks closer, a more striking thing about her becomes noticeable: She's virtually colorless. She has some kind of strangely attractive blue-and-lavender pox flecked sparsely across her face and arms, and a few spots of color amongst her equipment, but other than that, she's practically a charcoal drawing, nothing but shades of black, white, and grey - as she leans forward, you notice her mere presence seems to drain the color around her.
I'm Lydia. Also a student of esoteric knowledge. I'm looking forward to Iniyahi. It sounds much nicer than most of the places I've been so far."
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Eka's eyes are drawn to Lydia's shadow. She cocks her head, her golden reptilian eyes narrowing as she inspects it.
Shuddering, she turns away from Lydia. After taking a moment to calm her mind, she takes a deep breath and introduces herself. "I am Eka. There iss not much elsse to ssay. ... Though perhapss we should share our sspecialtiess sso we can work together more ssmoothly. In a fight I work to keep foess back sso the sspellcassterss can work their magic in ssafety. I can do a little healing ass well. My voisse tendss to work againsst me, so when diplomassy is necesssary, it is besst for ssomeone elsse to do the talking." Her sibilant voice has an occasional hard edge to it. Thiss iss a motley crew. Hm. For onsse I will not be the only odd one in the group.
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"Specialties? I work best in the dark riding Lucentis. We are the first to charge into new tunnels or caverns where we can disrupt the order of their ranks with lance and declaration. I hope our experience in combat doesn't get used much during this festival though." Okaze nods and explains how he fights showing his lance to Eka feeling a sense of understanding with the Nagaji.
Peering through the fog at your letter from Venture Captain Amara Li, you thank the captain and make your way through the streets of Ramparassad.
It is growing dark, rain pours down and the few figures you pass on the street seem to fade in and out of the rain.
A dismal downpour of rain accompanies the humidity-laced streets of Dtang Ma’s capital, Ramparassad. The brief scent of thick tobacco fills the air just outside the appropriately named storefront: “Pak’s Tobacco and Spice”. Inside, Old Pak sits behind a counter in the otherwise closed shop, enjoying a pull from his long pipe. He is accompanied by a small, pale figure with multiple tattoos and piercings who wanders down the rows of collected masks opposite the entrance.
“Greetings, Pathfinders. I am glad you could make it. The tea is already boiling and should be ready soon! My guest here, is Harjandi, who joins us from the usually reclusive Minatan city of Inahiyi with a request for aid. It’s rare for the wayangs of that region to venture out of their homeland, and I’ve decided to hear her message; and based on your prompt arrival, it seems you have too!”
The wayang woman nods, turning from her tour of the masks. “Though Inahiyi has few visitors, we have heard tales of the great Pathfinder Society and their interest in and respect for history and ritual. My city holds an annual festival to commemorate its founding, which was also when we came to friendly terms with the locals of Minata. The celebration includes ceremonial reenactments of our dealings with those ancient humans, roles that my fellow wayangs usually don masks and costumes to portray. Approximately every half a century, however, the festival falls on the autumnal equinox and tradition requires that outsiders participate.”
Harjandi continues, “The celebration is only a few days away, and if you accompany me back home, we will be happy to compensate you for your time. You’ll also have the esteem of being among the very few outsiders to witness our rituals. And, of course, you will be treated as guests of honor at the festival.”
“Not to mention the possibility of strengthening ties between the Society and Inahiyi,” Old Pak adds, suddenly coughing as the sound of a boiling kettle startles him from the last inhalation from his pipe. “Tea’s ready!”
their portals home closed unexpectedly.
came to this location near the end of Tian Xia’s Age of Ashes to attempt to return to the Shadow Plane, but accidentally unleashed powerful, evil entities instead. With the help of a few Minatan heroes, they trapped one of the creatures and are now devoted to maintaining its prison.
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"It is an odd position to be kin and an outsider to your people. My name is Okaze. Bridging this gap is something that I have often thought of." he says quietly with a bow and taking a cup of tea, he pours a bit into his palm for Lucentis.
"Harjandi, in the ceremony what roles do outsiders typically play and what should we all expect of Inahiyi so that we present ourselves properly.?" he asks.
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"I have heard of your people before, but this is the first chance I have had to meet such interesting being such as yourself. I also understand you have been somewhat prosperous and extended your reach well beyond Inahiyi."
Meseria takes a cup of tea and sips it. She prefers it a on the hot side where a tingle of pain meets her lips. Her natural resistances keep her from being injured by it, but she could still feel the heat of the boiling liquid as it trickles into her mouth.
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Khoda nods along as the others elaborate on their particular skills, his gaze passing over each of his comrades as they spoke. ”Perhaps, Eka, you and I might find ourselves fighting shoulder to shoulder…” the man pauses to consider their destination, ”though I hope bloodshed can be avoided. If we do come into some sort of conflict, know that I consider myself a fairly capable swordsman.”
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”I must admit that until speaking with Okaze here, I’d not heard anything about wayangs. Chalk it to growing up in Almas.” Khoda accepts a cup of tea and blows some of the steam off before sipping, ”Not very many chances to meet someone that isn’t at least half human. I too would be honored to assist in your ceremony. What would we need to do?”
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A flicker of knowledge surfaces in Eka's mind. Could it be...? Has she remembered something from her past? Or is this merely a more recent snippet of something she didn't realize she heard? To hide her confusion, Eka accepts a cup of tea with a nod of thanks and holds it up to her lips. Instead of sipping, she inhales the steam and scent wafting up from the liquid, taking deep breaths to steady herself.
"Harjandi, in the ceremony what roles do outsiders typically play and what should we all expect of Inahiyi so that we present ourselves properly.?"
Yess. I would like to know what exactly we have to do. I have my dignity, after all. Eka's yellow eyes flicker up to watch the proceedings as she tries to absorb everything that is said.
Harjandi replies, “Nothing too strenuous. There is a mock fight, a debate, and a feast accompanied by a shadow-puppet play. Events that we hold every year. Anything you need for these rituals will be provided. They are very important to us.”
"As for the city, it will be busier than usual because of the festival." She looks around Old Pak's place, "And our land is not so gaudy with colour as here."
The shop you are in is mostly wood tones, with a colour palette that might be generously termed 'autumnal'.
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The imposing Nagaji, towering over Harjandi, nods a solemn acceptance of the terms. Perhaps this mission will trigger her mind to release the memories that have been hidden from her. She is especially keen to discover who her patron god is so she can better serve them. Oh, it is hard to keep from getting her hopes up! Butterflies flit around her stomach, despite her best efforts to remain calm. She takes a sip of tea, allowing the hot liquid to pool on her tongue for a moment before sliding down her throat. Even focusing on the sensation of warmth traveling into her core does little to calm the growing anticipation inside her. How she manages to maintain an impassive expression is anyone's guess.
Harjandi has reserved places on a trading ship called The Spider's Silk. The crew are mostly human and cautious but respectful around the motley group of pathfinders.
On the trip, Harjandi explains about the festival.
The first event is a mock gladiatorial combat, representing the early clashes between wayangs and native Minatans.
The second event is a verbal duel, representing diplomatic negotiations between wayangs and Minatans, with a twist: the foreigners, portraying the ancient Minatans, are expected to lose while making a show of good effort.
The final event is a large feast, complete with elaborate dancing and a shadow-puppet play.
When you arrive at Inahiyi in the early afternoon, you find the city of over 6,000 wayangs in the middle of bustling preparation.
Dark gray and black banners are visible on every street corner and stretch between the buildings. Stalls are erected all over, their occupants hawking special wares and services, such as piercings and skin bleaching. Strange paper lanterns that seem to shed darkness hang in most windows. Despite these obvious festive decorations, the mood of the town is a strange mix of sombre and cheerful. The wayangs eagerly greet you, but the streets are without the cries of merriment or jaunty music that you might expect during a celebration.
At the dock, you are met by a wayang wearing an elaborate hat and a nose ring connected to an earring with a length of silver chain. This is Mayor Farzhan , who fawns over your group, asking about the trip, whether you are hungry or thirsty after the journey, and how you feel about the festival.
Harjandi slightly rebuffs the mayor, noting that their visitors need some time to settle in before they are bombarded with questions and requests.
You are then given rooms in a boarding house run by a woman named Unelda. They are obviously sized for wayang visitors, but some attempt has been made to lengthen the beds with comfortable chairs and ottomans. However, the rooms are cramped for most of you , which isn’t helped by the drab black and dark purple decor. You can use the rooms to store any gear you have brought with you, and you are encouraged to look around for a couple of hours before meeting outside the large arena on the outskirts of town.
The Spider’s Silk will return to take them back to Ramparassad the following day.
If you spend some time talking to locals, you might gather some information.
The local wayangs eagerly await outsider participation in this year’s festival. The past few celebrations have been a bit dull, and many hope that newcomers can inject some excitement into the proceedings. In particular, Mayor Farzhan has been practicing his part of the final midnight festival all week.
in the mock combat have seemed a bit distracted all morning.
They’ve secluded themselves until the fight. Some say it is a bit of stage fright, while others think they are nervous to be facing off against a group of strangers.
As you wander through the town, you can find a number of entertainments and services offered by the townsfolk. As honoured guests, you aren’t expected to pay for anything related to the festival!
The first stall you come to presses plates of boiled snails dripping with
butter toward you. The next offers bags of incredibly spicy roasted nuts, and another gives you creamy tarts filled with dark, sour berries.
Elsewhere a fermented beverage made from the same berries is pressed in your hands.
Elaborate paper hats, similar to the one Mayor Farzhan wears, are also offered to you by a number of stalls.
The more adventurous among you can visit the booths that offer common wayang body modifications: skin bleaching, piercings, and ritual scarification. These services are relatively painless, but they are permanent. These represent important wayang traditions and suggest a willingness to embrace wayang culture. Some stalls seem especially keen to offer modifications to their 'cousin', Okaze.
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Yulau decides to try all the food and beverages. She tries one of the snails, wrinkling her nose as she eats it down. She wipes her brow as the spicy nuts were more powerful than she expected. She polished her meow off with one of the sour tarts. She drunk down the beverage in a few sips, trying to become friendly with the town. She puts the paper hat on her head as well.
She waited before any of the permanent offers were made. She wasn’t sure if she wanted a piercing or not.
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Okaze also talks to various locals eagerly seeking to learn about their lives here. His mannerisms and speech give pause to some that he speaks to but the information gained is valuable.
I think I would like to talk to the combatants for the mock battle. he thinks as they walk through the stalls.
He often pauses for each offering to take in the tastes and textures of the food.
"Are their foods my Lucentis would like?" he asks showing off his companion to the owners of the stalls.
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His interests perks up when the offerings for modifications are offered. He turns to Miseria with some concern painted across his face.
"This is going to hurt isn't it? Though I imagine you are quite used to it now with so many, Miseria. I can't pass up this opportunity to be brought closer to my kin though."
"Can you tell me more about these bleaching designs and piercings? I have spent nearly my entire life away in the world so they are new to me." he asks with a deep bow.
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Eka ducks through the doorway into her room, and immediately hits her head on the ceiling as she tries to straighten to her full height. Well, thiss will be interessting. With a sigh of resignation, she stows her stuff, casting a dubious look at the modified bed, and heads outside to wander in a fully upright position.
She mostly keeps to herself, feeling extremely out of place amongst all these thigh-high Wayangs. All of the foods and drinks are varying degrees of good except for the tarts (sour isn't her favorite flavor). The paper hat, well, she tries it on, but feels absolutely ridiculous in it, so she lets it get knocked off as she ducks under a lantern. Then she "accidentally" steps on it. With a shrug, she tosses it into the nearest waste can. Later, on a whim, she decides to get three black, spiky piercings along the ridge that runs down the center of her neck, right in the middle of the shifting patch of dark scales. Menacing, yet subtle, for when I'm trying not to scare people.
Yulau finds all of the food well-prepared and nourishing, although not always to her taste.
Miseria finds that the vendors often want to modify her modifications, rather than expanding the palette. They are proud to explain how the wayang do it. It is clear that, for many of them, the wayang way is the right way.
Okaze finds a feed stall that can accomodate Lucentis' diet. The wayangs are keen to explain their designs in detail and make a dizzying array of suggestions.
Eka finds the piercings to be elegant, well-made but still painful.
Your willingness to engage with Wayang culture adds to your popularity.
As the time for the first ritual event nears, Harjandi and Mayor Farzhan
approach you all, carrying a tray filled with colorful masks and ribbons.
Harjadi explains more about the festival, "Each of you will carry the spirit of one of the ancient heroes who visited our shores in the early days after we had arrived on this plane."
They go on to explain that as part of the festival, each of you should take on the role of a different historical Minatan hero, wearing the appropriate mask and matching ribbon so that the spectators know which hero each of you is portraying.
Harjandi names the six heroes and hints that the spirits of these heroes will be watching over your actions. "Be true to yourself and the ancients. That way all will be well."
The masks cover the eyes and the bridge of the nose and each is a different color. A ribbon can be pinned anywhere, as long as it remains visible.
The mayor claps his hands together happily, "So, who will you choose?"
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Khoda waits patiently for most everyone be to choose a persona but finally steps forward to select one for himself.
"Bu Lo Dama. A fine man, I'm sure. And a good color as well."
Khoda slips the mask on and turns to face the group, "Listen up, sailors. Stick together. Act accordingly. Play your part. We'll all be fine. A toothy smile forms as Khoda speaks.
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Lydia samples and appears to enjoy all the food, even having seconds, although the beverage doesn't seem to particularly agree with her.
She cheerfully tries the paper hats, the colors of which look downright garish compared to most of the rest of her; after a moment's odd pause, she takes a second such hat, which she stows...somewhere.
She approaches the booth offering skin-bleachings, only to be courteously turned away after the esthetician, speaking with a mixture of concern and awe, tries to ask her for advice on his own art.
Lydia looks down at what remains: The mask of Ilyamakano the Druid.
She scowls, as though annoyed by something, but promptly softens again.
"I choose Ilyamakano," She announces evenly. "Sounds like a lot of what I do anyway."
As she leads you into the arena, Harjandi makes it clear that, in line with tradition, you should wear your masks and remain in character until the end of the ceremony.
Under the seating is a quiet area with sparring dummies and an array of wooden dummy weapons, "These will make it easier to fight in the mock battle. Find one which suits you."
As you feel the weight of the dummy weapons, she continues, "Win or lose, either way, the ceremony must be completed without any outside interference."
The wayang turns to you, face suddenly grave, "The festival is a source of joy but the ritual itself is of profound importance. You do a great service to my land."
Harjandi nods, ”A mount will be acceptable.”
Spears and kukris are easy to find but scythes and lances are absent.
Miseria finds a short sword of hardened ebony.