Welcome to Gaia! ::

It is the month of Ascending Water, Realm Year 768, and you are being led to a small village on the border of Rokan-Jin. This little village is quiet. No people wander its moonlit streets, no animals do more than snuffle softly in their pens, and the lone tavern has darkened windows. The only exception is the barn, nestled against a thick stand of white pine. Even from the edge of the village, you can see the light seeping from between its weathered slats, hear voices, and glimpse the shadowy figures standing guard near a side door. It is a wonder the Haltan patrols have not found it already.

Your guide leads you toward it in silence, and you see there are other such pairs, each one stopping before the guards and revealing their faces for recognition. It is your turn; the left-hand guard smiles and greets your guide by name, but is hushed by a stern look from his companion. You are waved inside, and pause momentarily to let your eyes adjust.

Now you understand why the village was so quiet. It seems as if every local adult, and more besides, are here, dancing and chatting in the lanternlight. And yet, the mood is wrong. More guards stand within the barn, and a look into their eyes shows wary determination. The revelers themselves seem muted, and there is a manic quality to their motions. It is as if this is the last party of their lives.

Your guide leads you towards an empty horse stall, and as you come around the wooden divider, you see that a wooden trapdoor leads down into the earth. Walking down the steps and through a narrow tunnel leads you into a large earthen room. Support beams are evenly spaced, each holding a glowing crystal that illuminates the place without leaving tell-tale smoke. The room feels like a mine.

Wooden stools have been set out on the packed dirt floor, facing towards a makeshift stage. Hard-eyed women and men sit in the back rows or stand along the side aisles, conversing in low tones. You can sense their desperation, even more pronounced than those above, but their expressions change as you and the other guests are led to the front row, where cushions have been laid upon the stools. Where a moment before the crowd reeked of the gallows, now you feel hushed whispers of hope.

Now seated, you wait only a minute before a man and woman enter from a side passage. She wears a worn military uniform, marking her as an officer in the army of Rokan-Jin. He is bedecked in cyan robes, with a tall hat that almost scrapes against the low ceiling. Both possess small gemstones on their clothing; she bears a square ruby as part of her rank insignia, and his hat is studded on four sides with garnet.

"Honored guests," he speaks, "and faithful citizens of Rokan-Jin, I welcome you tonight. I am Hidden Jasper, former ambassador to the city of Whitewall. Beside me is Colonel Azurite Tetsun, commander of this region's resistance cells. I apologize that someone more high-ranking couldn't be present," he receives a hateful glance from the Colonel, "but it seems that General Migda recently undertook a covert mission to seek additional aid from our foreign allies. Still, I'm sure that-"

He is cut off when the Colonel elbows him aside mid-gesture, using his own momentum to send him stumbling off the side of the stage. Taking Jasper's place on the stage, she looks directly into your eyes. "I won't lie to you." She looks up to address the entire room. "I won't lie to any of you. Migda did a runner. Far as I know, that means I'm in charge, for however much that's worth. This is pretty much the end."

Two guards hurry to Jasper's side, making a show of dusting him off, while surreptitiously trying to stifle his outraged complaints. The audience seems unsteady, but Tetsun presses on. "Its been three years since the Icewalkers and the Haltans beat us. Three years of ineffectual guerrilla war. Fact is, our tactics were sound, and we might have been able to push them out, if we hadn't lost so many people in the war. But they have the numbers and the training, and we have weary old folks and orphaned children. Some," she tilts her head towards Jasper, "will put on a smile and tell you its only a matter of time until we take our country back. But that isn't true. A conquered people, which is what we are, can be worn down eventually."

"So we swallowed our pride and begged for help, because we can't do it alone. This meeting represents the last dregs of defiance that our people have left. If we can't make any progress from here, then we are nothing more than a Haltan puppet state." She bows, stiffly and formally, to the guests in the front row. "You folks have come this far, and I thank you for that. But I must ask you: Will you help us?"


OoC:
Highlight to view >>> Summary: In a hidden base beneath the village, you and the other Exalts have been gathered by the Resistance. Facing dissolution, they have pleaded with you to aid them in their hour of greatest need.

I would appreciate if your post included how your character arrived here, and what they seek to accomplish by aiding in this endeavor. <<<

Iron Soul is a fairly attractive man. A few scars mar what would be an astonishing face, but he carries them well. His vibrant red hair is kept short, an old habit he maintains from his youth. He is one of a few people who is openly armed. A massive blade is worn over his shoulder extending a full foot past his head and only about 6 inches from the ground. It is in a scabbard is somewhat of a patchwork, many different pieces of yeddim leather.

Walking through the barn he sees the defeat in most people’s eyes. Something he has seen in many faces in his life…though he was usually on the other end when looking at them.

Reaching the first entrance into the underground passage he looks at the person who is holding it open. “You are shitting me right?” Receiving a no he sighs pulls the blade off his shoulder. Carrying the massive blade with a single hand he keeps the blade straight. Seeing that one of the cushioned stools is for him he sits down in it, enjoying the place of honor that he has been granted.

After listening to the people who have spoken thus far he himself stands, “My mother and father trained me as a warrior and tactician. I will aid you in your fight against the Bull.” After making his simple statement he sits back down, all the while his blade never leaving his side.

The crowd gasps at Akhil's words. One of the Solar Anathema has come to their aid. Though he claims distaste for conquest, the Resistance are not quite ready to believe him. They have seen first-hand how dangerous the Solars can be. Still, in this time of desperation, the prospect of being ruled by a citizen of Tahti would be infinitely preferable to slavery beneath the Haltans and the Bull.


Following the revelation of Akhil's nature, speculation abounds about this taciturn man. Only one of the Exalted could wield such a massive blade, but is he Dragon-Blooded, or could he too be one of the Solars? Either way, a skilled warrior is a blessing to the beleaguered fighters of Rokan-Jin.


"How mysterious," the audience murmurs among themselves. "Could that iron staff have seen battle against the Fair Folk? Who might she be?"

Their hearts beating quickly as they ponder the possible powers and abilities of these three guests, they hold their breath in anticipation of the next speaker.

The ride had been long, and hard. Especially the last leg when he could no longer safetly travel with the trade carevans that had kept him on the right course. It was nearly the time furthest from his Caste when he arrived in the town where he was to make contract with the resistance. Leading his weary horse, he walked as softly as he could through the strangely still town.

It wasn't long though before he was able to tie the reigns of his steed off and enter the one building in town that showed any sign of people. And the reasuring surge of life within the barn was, for a moment, refreshing. Then he saw their faces. The haunted look in their eyes. The resignation. The horror. Any uncertainty he may have had was washed away with those looks. As he eased his way though the crowd he laid a hand on a shoulder here, smiled warmly there, and walked with all the confidence and might instilled upon him when he took his second breath.

Joining the crowd in the basement in time to hear both of the local representatives. He settled his buff coat, reinforced with orichalcum, and adjusted the strap that held his masive curved blade to his back. Running a hand crisscrossed with the old scars of a knife fighter and swordsman through his short brown hair, he sighed in relief at the colonel's frank words. Definatly glad he came. He gave the courtesy of presenting themselves to those who came before. Finally, he felt it was his to go.

"When I took on my new destiny, I also took on a new name to describe my role in it. I am Indomitable Voice of the Downtroden. My friends, however, still call me Valis," he added with an easy grin. "So, please, call me Valis, and know that I don't let my friends stay under the yoke of oppresion long. While I still draw breath, I will see hope returned to your eyes, and freedom to your land." With that, he eased himself into one of the waiting stools.

>>> For reasons of story-flow, I'm taking the liberty of re-arranging the order of Cogwheel and Sprainogre's posts. I apologize. <<<



Hope does indeed surge through the crowd, though not without a little fear. The bold name, combined with the unmistakable red-gold gleam of Orichalcum, marks this man also as being one of the Solars. Whatever reservation remained after Akhil's speech is swiftly fading, for Valis' smile feels so sincere that the audience cannot help but be optimistic. Perhaps these two golden heroes will be their champions.



The hope from before does not fade, but confusion sets in as well. Most members of the Resistance have never imagined that someone might not see their cause as innately just. Colonel Tetsun seems ready to speak, but catches Hidden Jasper's eye. The former ambassador has composed himself, and is willing to overlook the Colonel's unkind actions in the face of the success those actions brought. But he will handle this one, for he knows how to make a debate into a performance; he stands just below the stage and off to the side, so as not to block Glorious Fall from view.

"You ask us if we are on the side of Justice? I cannot say. Perhaps from Heaven, this story, which to us is a tragedy, is in fact the heroic tale of how the Bull rose to power. But in the eyes of civilized mortals, our conquest cannot be anything but the gravest injustice."

He looks up into her eyes, and carefully modulates his voice like an attorney, attempting to present evidence calmly and impartially, yet leading towards an intended outcome.

"You ask us why you should choose a side. I ask you what good might come of remaining neutral? We sought neutrality once ourselves. We were allied with the Linowan, yet we traded freely with the Haltans. The people of Rokan-Jin avoided being embroiled in the conflicts of the region. Our army was never more than a defensive instrument to protect our mines and cities. We had not even launched so much as a raiding party in centuries. But that did not save us when the Bull decided that we were a fitting first target."

"A man we had scarcely heard of before, and a people we had never made contact with, chose to invade us without any provocation. All the warning we received was the sudden arrival of thousands of Icewalker warriors. The Haltans, who had once been good trading partners, then decided they no longer wished to pay for our gems. They brought the Fair Folk with them, and we cannot know how many of our imprisoned soldiers were given over to those monstrosities, as 'payment' for their assistance. The Icewalkers did not seek to build a new nation from our old one, but to loot our mines, conscript our men, ransack our farms, and burn our cities. Now, our people still work the mines and farm the fields, but the fruits of their labors do not benefit the nation as a whole."

"The Bull and the Haltans divide the spoils between themselves, with the Icewalkers taking much of the food that is so scarce in their native environment, and the Haltans taking most of the metal and gems that their arboreal existence denies them. Even were these fields, such as remain, to 'grow sweeter fruits' as you put it, we would not taste them."

"If these points are insufficient, then I am afraid there is nothing more for me to offer. If the unprovoked destruction of our peace, prosperity, and self-determination is not injustice, then what is? If our desire to regain what we have lost, even in a small measure, is not just, then what is?"



"No, not at all. 'Specially if I'm not mistaken." The man speaks in Rivertongue, and leans forward slightly, trying not to disturb the people around him, who are intently focused on the stage. He hosts three scars along his bare arms, scars which Iron Soul identifies as caused by arrowheads. "You were with the Kitsune, wer'ncha? I think I remember my unit going against you out in the Hundred Kingdoms, in that one little bandit kingdom, whassisname. The one with that Outcaste Dragon-Blood who thought she was hot stuff, and tried to take over her southern neighbor.

Completely ignoring the woman and her cat Iron Soul look square in the mans eyes he replys in rivertongue. “It could have been, we fulfilled many contracts in that area. Including a very lucrative one in the events you talked about.” Pretty much confirming the man’s beliefs.

“You will forgive me if I do not remember you. One bloodied face tends to blur into another, in that kind of work. If you fell to arrows however,” Iron soul says referencing the man’s scars, “this is another story, for most I meet managed to withstand the initial barrages.” With his last statement Iron Soul has a small smile creep across his face, and combined with a little more friendly tone he lets the man know it is mostly a friendly bit of banter, common to most battle worn warriors or old mercenaries

Glorious Fall smiles and raises a finger to forestall any further arguments, hands resting on her knees as she considers the matter.

"Well- I will see where you lead. Or rather, I suspect, where you follow. I will be present, at any rate. But listen well."

She smiles, voice honeyed, and speaks as if relating a fable.

"Those who are neutral profit from both sides, more often than not. Those who take no side are despised by both."

She crooks her head to one side.

"However: any alliance with the Fair Folk is unambiguously foolish in these times. This appears for the present to be a clear case, if it is so. And, further; the inequitable distribution of resources topples conquerers and conquered alike- it is never wise. This, too, seems clear, if true. I do not hold with the breakdown of what is called, in this age, civilization, little though it deserves the name."

She smiles ironically, but her eyes are kind enough to soften the blow.
"I agree and promise to observe your case. It may be necessary that I render judgment at a later date."
As she speaks, briefly, red-gold letters seem to flare around her.

Highlight: >>> All players, after reading this post, please check the Discussion Thread, under the heading of "Story Note #1." I've posted some information for the next phase of the story. <<<


Hidden Jasper flinches slightly at the motic display so close to his face, but bows to the woman in gratitude before stepping back from the stage.

A girl with a strange fur collar steps up to the stage in Glorious Fall's absence. There is mild amusement as the collar is revealed to be an old cat.


Though the assembly is not sure what to make of this slip of a girl, especially compared to the forceful visages of those who have come before, Hidden Jasper goes slightly pale when he hears her title. He has only been back in Rokan-Jin for a year, and has heard tales of the mysterious Requiem in Moonlight.

"Yes," he says hurriedly, "I'm certain all of you are tired from your journeys, and hungry besides. I will send servers around, so please order whatever you like, and we will do our best to accomodate you." He waves to a pair of boys, who then begin to make the rounds of the room.

He turns and makes his way towards Sasha, but bumps into Valis on the way.


"Indeed! We have been blessed with an assemblage of heroes, like out of the old stories." Jasper does not bother to conceal his excitement at the prospect. "I only hope that we can prove worthy of your support."

"I only hope you folks will take your oaths more seriously than my former commander did." The Colonel is not so sanguine. "But my pessimism aside, I think tonight will mark a turning point for the Resistance."

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =


The merc cackles, "So it is you! Whass your name again, Leaden Heart or something? I 'member seeing you come through our line like a knife 'tween the ribs. The Kitsune really tore us up, took some of us prisoner, and when we couldn't pay the ransom in full, they were willing to take what we had and let the rest go."

He smiles a crooked smile. "That was real classy of them. Lotta' mercs'd just sell extra prisoners to the Guild. Damn shame 'bout what happened to them; not many merc units like the Kitsune anymore."