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Clash of the Southeast IC post thread

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  • #16
    “Fantastic to make your acquaintance Flynn” bowing his head slightly. “ Its an honorer to meet someone of your high standing. Also I would like to to apologies for my unforgivable rudeness but interjecting my self into your esteemed conversation. It is simply that to happen upon such a man as your self is so rare I would be want to miss the chance of your company. Ah now look what I have done another rudeness. I have yet to introduce myself I am called Fovnag. My equal esteem to masters Nahuel and Swimming Owl"


    • #17
      "One to whom I owe a debt," he responds simply. "Sorath said that I was repaying a favor that she owed to someone named Ayesha." He tries the sugared tea with an... odd expression.


      • #18
        "It is a pleasure to meet you, Fovnag. Though men such as myself aren't as rare as you may think, but I appreciate your enthusiasm about the Sanxian. It is a noble instrument. Perhaps later I can play for you. " Flynn moves the case to make more room at the table. He had a feeling that more people will show up.

        "So what bring you to Puyo?"

        I write things.


        • #19
          "Try the coffee. You might like it better." He passes over the cup.

          "Ah, Ayesha. She is a great lover of the arts. You might say that she is our patron. A hard taskmaster at times, but with artists such as Swimming Owl and I, you would need to be. "

          I write things.


          • #20
            “I was sent by my town to investigate whats happening to the kingdom as we have been flooded with refugees.” “the refugees carried rumors a massive push by The...” pausing a moment as Nahuel almost spit out his tea .“ Guild into the kingdom and the requisite misery and exploitation that fallows when they get involved.” His eyes and words alight from the impassioned hatred for The Guild and his life under them. Calming himself. “im here to to make sure The Guild is kept inline with what is best for my people and creation.”


            • #21
              "It is not bad, just... strange. Very strange. But so is everything else here. Art... you make praises to your gods?"


              • #22
                Flynn smiles at Nahuel. "Among other things. Mostly I play the Sanxian to entertain people. "

                "The Guild..." Flynn puts his coffee cup down. "One can never forget the vacant look of slaves returned from the Fair Folk. No song I can play can return the joy to their lives."

                (Night all)
                Last edited by wonderandawe; 01-14-2015, 01:37 PM.

                I write things.


                • #23
                  The jungle-dweller retains the politely uncomprehending look he has held through most of the conversation. "Hmm. In my homeland, there is little time for idle entertainment... every moment was a struggle to survive. But slaves," he says, face twisting into a snarl of disgust, "that is something I know all too well. The raksha are not the only ones to drain the souls from those they take, only the fastest. Anyone who would make a man a slave does the same."


                  • #24
                    Swimming Owl smiled, silently cursing Flynn for using her real name, and the two strangers for showing up before she could finish debriefing Flynn. Lunars tended to know sorcery, dammit, you don't use your real name! She hoped Arcane Fate would smooth out the edges of this conversation in retrospect...

                    "Every man's a slave to something, in my experience, friend." She smiled a friendly smile. "For Flynn it's drink and music, for me it's an entirely unreasonable fear of spiders. Regardless, I suggest you use caution. This teahouse is full of Guild merchants, like myself, many of whom deal in slaves. If you offend one of them and we get caught up in a fight, it would be...well, rather the opposite of paying back that favor."

                    So I'm making God-Kicking Boot, an Exalted webcomic, now. Updates on Sundays. Full-color, mediocre but slowly improving art. It's a thing.

                    The absence of a monument can, in its own way, be something of a monument also.
                    -Roger Zelazny


                    • #25
                      “While I loth to remember it. I spent over 20 years as a slave laborer of The Guild. I know its horrors first hand.” His eyes faded and and his frowning face like stone. His continence however was broken by the words of Swimming Owl. In a hushed shout, as he had a point about there location “You would compare the atrocity that is slavery to bad habits and irrational fears?! It is beyond inhuman it is abhorrent to all that is good.” slowly regaining himself “People must unite to stand ageist the threats that seek to destroy creation and The Guild Could provide such a framework if only it seeks to abandon slavery and otherwise exploiting the weaknesses of men, constantly undermining one another.” still facing Swimming Owl “and what good sir is your area of trade?” he then tuerned back to his tea awaiting a reply. What a fantastic brew but the money that went into this one pot would have fed him for a week as a slave. These people throw wealth around so frivolously.
                      Last edited by Luxweaver; 01-07-2015, 02:59 AM.


                      • #26
                        Flynn drank his coffee and observed that Swimming Owl seemed to be annoyed at him. Because it was his fault that Ayesha sent some fucking barbarian with their real names to "help" them.

                        Flynn sighed. He knew that Ayesha forgave him too easily for that "Stupid Bitch" comment. Apparently the stupid bitch decided that being ripped apart by Lunars was an appropriate punishment for calling the Gold Faction Leader names.

                        Gods, he needed a drink.

                        "I wouldn't say I'm a slave to drink. We had a pretty good relationship, until recently. " Flynn swirled the remains of his coffee around in his cup.

                        "While dismantling the slave trade is a noble goal, it must be done carefully or else you simply replace the Guild with something harsher. You can say many things about the Guild, but at least their actions aren’t motivated by malice.”

                        I write things.


                        • #27
                          One hour ago, some miles distant

                          It was wrong. Wrong in ways he lacked the words to explain. They had all felt it when they returned to the Creation, a visceral sense of loss and horror that felt like grief mixed with vertigo. Now he stood on a low rise, a space around him here none would approach. That was part of it, the fear in the invisible eyes. Something in him moved, a shift of feeling like a foundation settling, and he felt compelled to speak. It would be long before he would again be able to speak to those here, if even the least part of what they suspected was true they had far more pressing concerns.

                          "A splendor has gone out of the earth."

                          The accusation hung in silent air.

                          "This light is not the light of elder days,
                          that shown glad and golden in bliss.

                          Harsh and broken is this fumbled speech,
                          where once was song in metered verse.

                          All about are faces once held dear,
                          adorning empty tombs with smiles.

                          What justice can cover so great a sin,
                          as to leave us witness to this mockery?"

                          He felt like he should cry, to see the squalor of the mortal town, but he had no more tears. The last fat of easy life had burned away in the wyld, whether from hunger or mourning he did not know.

                          "Was that what they had fought for? What we had to watch Agralzo die for?"

                          It was an empty question. For whatever reason, it was here now, and he could not even bring himself to be disgusted. He felt only weariness; and hate.

                          "I cannot repay what you have all sacrificed. I have no thanks that are not an insult before my debt, yet still you have my thanks. For my part, I hold whatever obligations bound you to me discharged. Go as you will, and do as you think best. Your needs must now far exceed my own."

                          He could neither see nor here what transpired, yet he knew one presence would remain. It could not but remain, for he had not included it in his dismissal. It was that presence he now addressed.

                          "Hold yourself in readiness to my call, but exercise what discretion you can."


                          There was a brief creak of the door and brightening of the room as a new man entered. He was covered head to foot in shapeless, concealing garments with only eyes of bright, northern blue visible. If he wished to go unnoticed, he had much to learn. The numerous lengths of cloth were silks and satins in deep blue, tyrian purple, and crimson; were elaborate and striking weaves and patterns; and hung heavy with embroidery and adornment of gold, amber, coral, and fire opal.

                          The burden on his back was similarly concealed, yet by its size and the ease with which he bore it there was no question that it was one of the great weapons of the Exalted and children of gods.

                          With almost predatory intensity he scanned the tea house, no doubt making many people very uncomfortable, before his gaze fell on the already crowded table where the others waited. His measured, determined steps quickly brought him to it. Only then did he speak, addressing himself to Swimming Owl.

                          "Guild'swoman?" his accent was... off, touched by the slow, crisp diction of Heaven.

                          He had met her not long after leaving the Wyld, with a caravan bearing fey treasures, the most readily able to speak his native Old Realm. He had gathered that they were part of some merchant venture, and likely an illegal one. Why else why they not have a warrant of trade or asked to see his transit papers? Yet if they would do him the courtesy of not prying he would do the same. He could ill afford any more risk when he knew so little.

                          He had not believed much of what she said, the stories had been so outrageous as to be obvious dissembling. Now, here, they did not seem so impossible. That worried him. How could things have degenerated so quickly in so short a time? Even a refugee camp should have had better facilities and services, yet these structures looked permanent.
                          Last edited by Exthalion; 01-07-2015, 01:53 PM.


                          • #28
                            "Ah, what a pleasure to see you, Master Splendor." Swimming Owl stood and she gave the newcomer a long bow. "You are early, sir, and your punctuality much appreciated. Please allow me to introduce you to Nahuel, Flynn, and Fovnag the Healer. Gentle friends, this is Master Splendor of Unfurling Horizons, an artisan and savant who is, in this humble merchant's experience, without peer in the region at present. To answer your question, Healer, my services have been retained by Master Splendor. I ensure that he has access to the materials and supplies necessary for his work, and on occasion I assist him in the sale of the wonders he creates, or act as his intermediary with those with whom he chooses to do business."

                            "Please, Master, have a seat. These men are the ones I mentioned to you in our earlier conversation. I believe, sir, that your interests in the city and theirs will align, and that you will all find one another's skills extremely useful in your endeavors."

                            She offered up her spot at the booth.

                            So I'm making God-Kicking Boot, an Exalted webcomic, now. Updates on Sundays. Full-color, mediocre but slowly improving art. It's a thing.

                            The absence of a monument can, in its own way, be something of a monument also.
                            -Roger Zelazny


                            • #29
                              "I am going to go see where the waitress wondered off to," Flynn gets up and goes to look for the frightened waitress to get refills on tea and coffee.

                              I write things.


                              • #30
                                Splendor of Unfurling Horizons now that is a name born from privilege if I have ever heard one. “It a joy to be in such august company as your self master Splendor.” Bowing his head deeply.