TheAmishPirate

Fellowship: The Heart

Jackdaw returned to the present with an undignified yelp. Had she just been crying? In the middle of the street?! Get a hold of yourself, Jackie! You can’t just wander through the streets of an unfamiliar town, falling to pieces. You should know better than that. There we go, shake your head clear, stand up a little straighter, smooth out that coat, wipe those eyes dry. Make yourself at least a bit presentable.

Somewhere, somehow, she could still feel Ailee’s withering glare bearing down on her. And she deliberately chose to ignore it. This was important, after all. This was a special thing to borrow. She...no, she didn’t have one like this. Nothing so sharp, so aching, so heavy. She needed this. It was important. Leelee didn’t understand.

...oh no! No, not quite - oh dear. Not in a bad way! She didn’t mean that she refused to understand. That’d be silly. She hadn’t even had a chance to explain anything yet, how could she preemptively refuse? Well, okay, you could preemptively accuse if your prejudices and biases were stacked up so high and so securely that there was no way you’d ever understand something of a particular sort. But, no, she wasn’t like that! She wasn’t saying she was like that! She was just saying that Ailee maybe jumped to conclusions before she’d had a chance to explain how marvelous this find was, in the least bad way possible.

...well, maybe not the least bad way, sometimes, but-

Hey, where’d Coleman go?

Fellowship: The Heart

That one, little drop of water nearly sent her crumbling down.

It hurt. Oh, stars and moons, it hurt. A gaping, raw hole in her chest...no, an impossibly heavy stone she could barely hold, her knees ready to buckle...no, an uneasy tension running through her whole body, over her fur, and it wouldn’t go away no matter how tightly she hugged herself or how fiercely she rubbed at her arms...no.

No.

Cold. Soaking, freezing to her heart. Icing it over. Icing her over. Until even her thoughts could hardly move. And Jackdaw - lost, little Jackdaw - stood alone in a market crowded with unfamiliar faces, and wept from the familiar cold.

But. Ah. Wouldn’t you know it? Somewhere in the midst of all that, her clever paws got a hold of one of those precious, little slips of...of loneliness. (No, that’s not it at all. Too weak, much too weak.) And. Well. Her clever paws did what clever paws were wont to do when they had caught hold of something special; tuck it away in one of the countless pockets lining her cloak.

Fellowship: The Heart

Coleman, Jackdaw!

The word is flotsam.[

@Tatterdemalion

It...might not be?

She'd never seen a ship on the Flood, or anything that might be a port; wouldn't really be the Flood if there was anywhere permanently safe, right? Ha ha ha ha ha. Ha. Hrm. Well. A-anyway, it's probably closer to detritus than flotsam, if it's not coming from shipwrecks. Which is important, because ships only carry so many things, whereas, wagons and trains and...well, wagon trains carry all sorts of things, so that's why the Beasts are able to make such a living here, though they do have to stay on the move, what with the...well, the safe land always changing, and...and...

Y-yes. It just might not be quite the word.

The waters are so still that if you squint, you can almost trick yourself into thinking that there’s nothing but a glass plain between you and the Tyrian Spire. Flies the size of pocket-watches hover here and there, and the shores of the Flood here are choked with rusted, mildewed junk, caught in nets of thin wire and thick linen ropes. Not that any of those are yours for the taking: the nets and everything dredged up from the Flood belongs to the salvage-caravan of Beasts here. All around you, their wagons and tents squat, decorated with iron charms and net-charms and icons of the Flood made from glass and her waters; if you want supplies, you’ll either have to deal with them or go well out of your way to dredge something up from the Flood yourself — and she’s less likely to let you get away with all your fingers.

This is a problem, because Sasha needs Floodproofing. It’s either figure out a way to get the egg across without being lost underneath her placid waters, or pull up stakes and take your chances with the Houses of Parliament, which is a much more perilous route.

@Tatterdemalion

And Sasha is right, he decides, and starts the elaborate dance of the drive levers. They won't get her floodproofed by standing around here, and he's not going to risk Sasha on a shortcut. One massive steel hand swings down to Jackdaw, an unspoken offer of a lift, and then he's off. Got to be a merchant here, or several, who have the tar and materials he needs.

@Balmas

And up she goes! Scamper scamper scamper on the hand, up the arm, atop Sasha, and curled 'round the smokestacks with her cloak pulled protective over her and her precious pack. Because books? Books do not mix well with water any more than Sasha does. Maybe even less! Though, she can always dry out the books, and, true, she doesn't need all of them, but, no, she'd be sad to lose them! Very much so! No thank you!

From her perch atop Sasha, she watches the camp they're tromping into. Beasts! They have such an expressive language, yet so curt! It's not often they take to writing, but the few who do, ohhhhhhhhhhhh goodness. Goodness gracious.

She practically vibrated in place as she took in the sights.

[Rolling to Look Closely: 3 + 4 + 2 = 9 Asking:

-What is going on here? What do my senses tell me?
-Is something hidden or out of place? If so, what looks suspicious?
-Tell me about the literature here. How could it hurt me? How could it help me?

One answer is found out the hard way.]

Fellowship: The Heart

Jackdaw is always willing to listen to me, even when no one else has time - I have a very strong idea of Lucien holding one sided conversations at Jackdaw using the pauses where they try to think of what to say to answer their own questions.
"Surely they can't mean-?"
"-"
"No. You're right, of course. They would. But the real question is, is it to their advantage, or to ours?"
"-"
"Mm. Of course, never assume you have the advantage - Try to be certain, and never be certain of your certainty...
"-"
"Jackdaw, I have no idea what I'd do without you. This could have been a disaster."

And, in the true fashion of a human diplomat in a fantasy setting, I'd like to take one bond from the Elf and one from the Dwarf playbooks;

Jackdaw defeated me in a game of Scrabble and I still cannot believe it.
It wasn't even close, honestly.

@Count Numbers

I wouldn't have called the first one, but I can see that playing out exactly like that if Lucien never gives Jackdaw a chance to chime in. :P

On my end, I have four Bonds to give out, and I think I'll be doubling up on Ailee. She and Jackdaw have a bit of history already, and I think that's the best way to represent it.

I stood watch for Ailee on the worst best most night of our lives.
Why didn't I say anything? I could've said something. I should've said something. But I didn't, then it was too late, and. Um. We don't have those lives anymore.

Lucien tells the best campfire stories, I don't know how I'd settle down without them.
He never messes them up! Ever! How does he do it?!

When things go south, I'm hiding behind Coleman.
And his train baby! Um, well, it's not his train baby, but it sort of is, in that it was given to him, but it's not his-his, and anyway that's where I'm standing.

I wouldn't have my crown jewel without Ailee's help.
Someday, I'm gonna have the right words to thank her.

Fellowship: The Heart

Since we're up to Bonds, I always find it hard to get a Feel for a character just from a sheet, without some interaction or story behind them.

So, I did a little bit of prosaic writing about Lucien to help get a better feel of him across.

THE ACT OF PARLIAMENT

My Hider

Lucien had seen the writing on the palace wall in ten-foot high red letters. The best bit was it was written in a language nobody else understood.

This is because that big, obvious warning had been broken down into tiny, digestible reports that passed across his desk as Head of the Civil Service. Innocuous titles like; “Local Councillors Reports on the Impacts of New Tarifs on Salt Exports”, “Findings of Diplomatic Envoys to Neighbouring States”, both the Eastern and Western borders, and “Speculation on Grain Futures and Current Prices”.

In that last one, the footnotes glowed hot enough that Lucien’s fingers never held the page by the bottom, afraid they’d burn his fingertips off.

“Shit.”

“Sir?”

His eyes flicked up. “George. If you could have a holiday anywhere, where would you go?”

“Ah. I always wanted to see the Heart, Sir. Just for a little while. Everyone who’s made it back says it’s like nowhere else.”

“Everyone who’s made it back...” Lucien repeated, stroking his jaw. “George, could you do me a favour?”

“Yes, Sir?”

“I’m going to fire you now, and it would make things a lot easier if we pretend you did something awful. The worst thing you can imagine. So terrible we can’t talk about it.”

“Oh. I’m- Can I decline?”

Lucien’s eyes darted up off the report and locked with George’s. George nodded.

“Right. I’m terribly sorry for what I did, which was so disgraceful I won’t even specify.”

“I’ve written you a glowing recommendation, privately. But you’re so disgraced, George, that I think it’s best that you leave the country. The continent, if you can help it.”

George nodded, straightening his red waistcoat. “Has it got anything to do with what’s happening in the Garden?”

They looked out the window at the sprawling mob.

Today, titled landowners, clergy, the wealthier merchants and the newly booming industrialist class were forming an open court in the palace gardens to negotiate the balance between the new powers and the old. The King had shown up, but fallen asleep hours ago.

How was the King to know that this was the pebble that started the avalanche. By Lucien’s estimates, in six months, The Empire would cease to be.

Lucien pulled a letter from his jacket, and slid it across his desk. “Time to go, George.”

“Right. Thank you, sir.”

George took the letter, and tucked it inside his shirt. He took a lemon wedge from Lucien’s tea, squirted two quick drops into his eyes, then flung himself out of the office, making a good show of wiping away his tears. He had the presence of mind to lock the door behind him on the way out.

It was a tragedy to lose talent like that.

Lucien pulled the bottom drawer out of his filing cabinet, and opened the floor safe hidden underneath it. He took out a steel lockbox and flicked through the labels of the manilla folders inside.

[Archbishop of Evora]
[Archbishop of dos Ossos]
[Archbishop of Sedlec]
[Secretary of State]
[Secretary of the Treasury]
[Field Marshal von Mackensen]
[King (ours)]

Ah, yes. There’s the one he needed. He pocketed the blackmail materials, and skipped ahead to the handwriting samples. One for when he was sober, one for his usual self... He pulled the “bacchanalia” sample, and shook the forged signet ring from the bottom corner of the envelope, and began to write. He checked his calendar. Tomorrow would be perfect.

-----

Lucien stormed into the throne room, furious, letter held in white-knuckled fist. The second the door had been opened for him, he could see the king’s bloodshot eyes, like two red mushrooms in black soil.

“Rupert, what the fuck is this?”

The King sat a little straighter, fight or flight kicking in. Lucien was only on a first name basis with the King when something very bad had happened, or the King had been Quite Naughty Indeed. And, because last night had been the annual meeting of the Secret Fraternal Order of Bookbinders, Milliners and Vintners, the King had no way of knowing which it was, but he had some unpleasant guesses.

“A posting to the Heart? Are you mad?”

“Sir Roué, your voice, please...”

“I beg your pardon, your Majesty,” Lucien was close enough to the throne now to drop to his indoor voice, “But you’re sending me to the Heart? A foreign posting? Truly?”

The King furrowed his eyebrows, massaging his temples. “Who ordered this?”

“You did! This is your handwriting, isn’t it?”

Lucien pushed the letter towards the king. He read it with a pained wince, his lips moving as he read and reread it. “Hrrm.”

“Hrrm?”

“I made a good point. I think.” The king muttered. “Our last man couldn’t hack it. And embassies to the Heart don’t usually go well. I really do need my best man...”

“While I am very flattered, surely you need me here? The Empire will go to shambles without me.”

“You think too highly of yourself, Sir Roué,” the king reprimanded. “I see I suggested some very suitable replacements... for the time being. I know you’re not very fond of Marquis du Motier, but he would be quite capable.”

“Capable? Your Majesty, please, the man couldn’t lead a pig to a trough.”

“Lucien...” the King growled in a warning tone. Lucien stood up straighter.

“Fine. But if I’m going along with this, I’m going to need some damned good incentives. The best office you can give me. Some staff. Then there’s my salary!”

The King raised an eyebrow. “You demand it?”

“Or I’ll bloody retire in protest.”

The King’s fingers drummed against the arm of the throne like drumsticks. “It would help the Empire’s prestige, the office.”

“Yes. Everything I do, for the Empire, of course.”

“We’ll send the staff later.” The King’s blinks were getting longer and longer, “Let you set things up how you like it on your own.”

“Of course, your Majesty.” Lucien bowed once more. “How can I argue with such infinite wisdom?”

The King was snoring by the time the doors closed behind Lucien.

-----

Two months. The Empire lasted two months. Which was really bloody inconvenient, because he really needed that extra time to get himself set up. He’d barely had time to find a good tailor before his salary disappeared.

The staff never came. The Marquis had made a bigger hash of everything than Lucien could have anticipated - when the riots inevitably started, he’d ordered cannons to open fire on the crowds.

The King and his family tried to flee to Czcezik, whose monarchs were close cousins (so it goes). They didn’t make it across the border without being recognized by a farmer who knew the King’s face from the back of a coin...

So, the Czcezik royal family - now next in the line of succession, would you happen to believe? - marched on the Empire - and ran right into three different factional people’s armies who’d been preparing for civil war, now with a common enemy.

Who could have predicted those guerilla armies? Besides anyone who had carefully read the footnotes on a national report about the distribution of grain stockpiles, of course.

The New People’s Government was now pushing back into Czcezik, and anyone they could get their hands on who had a “Sir” in their name was having their head removed from their shoulders.

And Sir Lucien had a lovely new office, if he could keep it.

Every prime-numbered floorboard on the stairs was balsa over a beartrap. Most doorhandles had a heating element in them, the stucco walls hid a flotilla of pistols and the ceiling fans were heavy as anvils, and detachable.

And somehow, an owl still managed to flit over to his colonial-wood desk, intact. He regarded it with an affectionate smile, one hand on the grip of the pistol underneath his parabola-linen shirt.

“You know, a group of owls is known as a parliament? And I am a civil servant. I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”

Another owl flew in behind it. And another.

Lucien swore.

@Count Numbers

Absolutely incredible. I can't wait to see Lucien in action. XD

For my end, didn't quite have the energy to get a short story together this week, so here's a small dump of thoughts about Jackdaw, and the sorts of things she's up to:

-Jackdaw is a collector of Words. Not, like, in the dictionary sense, but somebody who's always looking for new words, novel combinations of words, events and experiences that can communicate a particular feeling, etc. Her collection is this amalgamation of language and phrases and perfectly crystalized moments which she is constantly setting to her personal use. Somebody who is, quite literally, always hunting for the right thing to say.
-No, for reals, she is always hunting for the right thing to say. All the time. In every situation. And usually winds up saying too much. And replaying conversations to try and find the actual best thing she could've said there.
-One day, she will have all the words, and thus, she will be good at words.
-Among the many books contained in the Heart, there are some on current events. As in you can open one up, and start reading a novel that perfectly describes the conversation you had over breakfast that morning. It can be hard to tell, sometimes, which books describe other worlds, and which describe ours. But if you can find the right sort of books, there are Buying Lists eager to snatch up any material about certain indviduals.
-I haven't fully decided yet, but Jackdaw was at The Celestial College in some capacity - possibly even just on the basic service/kitchen staff - and has known Ailee from there.
-Jackdaw is Delving in the Heart to find a most important word: Her name.

Fellowship: The Heart

Jackdaw
The Collector

Agenda: It Belongs In a Museum
Preserve and protect things of lasting historic value.
Seeking Peace

Appearance: Lanky, bespectacled, and possessed by an ever-anxious energy. At a glance, you might think this Vulpine crawled out of the nearest alley. She wears a patchwork cloak over a patchwork coat, pockets and pack bulging with borrowed books. Her eyes are never still, constantly darting about, desperately trying to take in everything that could possibly be happening around her.

STATS
Blood: +0
Courage: +1
Grace: +2
Sense: +2
Wisdom: -1

Collector Core

Curious Curios: You collect strange and bizarre things, from all over the world. Your collection has some kind of theme to it, such as small dinosaurs, mechanical replicas of insects, things made of glass, fanciful masks, or something else. Rather than Command Lore about your people, you Command Lore about your collection and those who care about it - other collectors, the value of your work and your goods, what purpose they serve and who made them, etc.

Theme: Words
Look: Historical, Surreal

Your collection has mysterious and powerful properties. When you Use a weapon or an item, you may choose a spell from below, then mark it.
You cannot use a spell while it is marked.
When you spend Food, remove a mark from one spell.
When you Recover, remove all marks on your spells.
[] Autonomous: The item acts on its own, following a simple command.
[] Fast: You can use the item as if it didn't have Reload, Clumsy, Trap, or Slow.
[] Overcharge: Either add the Area tag to the item, or double its normal effect.
[] Trickery: Add one of these tags to this item for the rest of the scene: Ranged, Dangerous, Piercing, or Trap.

Workaholic: When you are between scenes, you may spend 1 Food to choose one:
• Restore 2 Uses to a single item that doesn't have the Food tag. This can't restore uses to your crown jewel.
• Replace one of your Gear options with any other option from its category. The new Gear comes with all its Uses.
• Heal a stat, belonging to you or one of your Companions.
This replaces the Fill Your Belly Basic Move. When you would Fill Your Belly, use this move instead.

What is your Collection?
Internal
Your collection is inside of you, like cyborg modifications, special tattoos, or dreams made real. You cannot have anything taken from you, you will never drop anything accidentally, and you retrieve anything you need from your collection instantly. In addition, you may choose one more Gear option from anyone's Gear list. You can only pick from a playbook currently being used by the fellowship, and you cannot pick an option someone else picked. When you use Workaholic to replace this Gear option with another, you can choose any Gear option within the above limitations.

Current gear option: Holy words, cribbed from Ailee (Ranged, Reload)

Collector Custom

Let Me See That: When you take a few moments to handle or examine an interesting item, vehicle, or architecture, ask two of the following questions. The Horizon must answer truthfully.
• Who made it and why should I care about them?
• What was this made to do, and how do I use it or break it?
• What's wrong with this, and how might I fix it?

Modifications: Choose one item you own for each of your Curious Curio spells. The chosen items are always modified by the chosen spell, without you needing to mark that spell. For example, Fast Spare Parts never have the Slow tag.
When you Recover, you may re-assign which items are automatically boosted by which spells.

Current modifications:
Fast: Medical supplies, removes the Slow tag
Trickery: Holy words, can add one of Dangerous, Piercing, or Trap for a scene
Autonomous: Her staff, it can act on its own, following a simple command
Overcharged: Books and catalogues, gives her two questions off the Look Closely list per use

Collector’s Gear

Many snacks (Food, 5/6 Uses)
Strange Curios (Useful, 3/4 Uses)
A staff that remembers (Melee, Dwarf-made, Armor, 1/1 Uses, can act Autonomously)
Holy words, poorly cribbed from Ailee (Ranged, Reload)
Healing powders, salves, or devices (Healing, Slow, 2/2 Uses)
Books and catalogues (2/2 Uses). You can spend 1 Use to ask a TWO questions from the Look Closely list about any valuable item you want to know about.
The Crown Jewel of her collection: A mysterious, marvelous book, never opened. (1/1 Use). You don't know what it does yet, but you'll find out. When you are in dire need, you may spend 1 Use to tell us what it does, and it will do exactly that thing, exactly how you described it.

Bonds
(1 bond with each of the Fellowship)
I brought Wolf back from the brink of mindless starvation. I'm trying to make sure she keeps getting better.

Fellowship: The Heart

Nice to meet you, Count!

My sheet's going to take a little more time to get together; ran a Masks session yesterday and spent most of today recovering. I should have it up within the week though.

Monster Hearts: Sleepshy Rise

I feel really bad for not having posted for so long but each evening I just pass out with tiredness and can't seem to be able to summon any brain at all. Please do set Sam aside so I'm not holding anyone up. It would ease my guilty conscience. I will try to post as soon as I can but it's gone from bad to worse lately (with business - health wise all is well) and it's not going to let up until lockdown ends, even then it's unsure and depends on how that ends up working.

@Elanorin

We'll be here for you whenever you're ready. :)

I'm glad to hear you and your family are staying healthy, and I'll be sending good vibes your way while this business madness continues.

Monster Hearts: Sleepshy Rise

CRUEL
DEFINITELY CURSED
CRYBABY
JEALOUS
NO TOUCH ME IM OBJECTION

DARKEST SELF

"Oh Timmy" Annalee gives him a big, pig-included group hug. "Samael did make me say those things. He hypnotized me so that I thought finding you and bringing you to him was the most important thing in the world, worth doing anything for. I had no choice. I said those things to the werewolf because I knew with her natural talents she would be able to find you, and I was sure I could get you to Samael once I had found you. Now, come along, we can discuss this inside instead of kneeling in a hall. And I have a friendly pig to help decurse if she promises to be good and not try to kick me in the head."

Annalee picks up Timmy, still half supporting him while holding Carmen in her other arm and practically pulls the group of them into the room.

@Anarion

What?! But that, that wasn’t, that hardly made any sense! What was going on?! Hadn’t he pointed out a terrible thing that she’d done? Wasn’t her behavior inexcusable? Why wasn’t she confessing when he had caught her red-handed?

All this and more ran through the mind of a confused, squirming Timothy as he was bodily dragged into Elodie’s vacant bedroom. (What was it about other people’s bedrooms and arguments tonight? Further evidence that he never should have left his room. Possibly ever.) Only then did he manage to extricate himself from Annalee’s constant violations of his personal space. “What is the matter with you, Annie?! Why are you acting so weird? I have had the worst night of my life, and, and you won’t even listen to me! Or - confound it all, speak normal to me!”

“Samael made you curse me? Then why did you leave me cursed for days on end? You had to protect yourself from him? Then why did you volunteer to let him feed on you tonight? With a winky face, no less!” The scandal! “You tried baiting a werewolf into hunting me down, because you were hypnotized into finding me, and you were sure that after the werewolf had mauled you and/or killed you, you’d be able to follow her, reach me first, and spirit me away to safety?!”

“I...I don’t even know where to begin with that one!”

Perhaps a wiser Timothy would’ve thought twice before losing his cool, alone, at a witch. But wiser Timothy had been left behind four disasters ago. All he knew right now was hurt and upset and confused and afraid, and his eyes wouldn’t stop burning, and his head was swimming, and, and...

“What’s this really about, Annie? Is this what your ‘competition’ with Elodie looks like? Has all this been to keep her in ‘second place?’” There’s that impression again. You did say as such in the caves, didn’t you? “Were you going to tell me I’d been volunteered as the grand prize, or should I expect another fantastical story there too?”

He crossed his arms sternly, the effect only slightly ruined by his quivering lip.

"Well?! What do you have to say for yourself?"

[Spending a String on Annalee to give her the Condition Liar]

Monster Hearts: Sleepshy Rise

CRUEL
DEFINITELY CURSED
CRYBABY
JEALOUS
NO TOUCH ME IM ANGY

DARKEST SELF

Annalee looks quite taken aback (she turns Carmen so she'll notice too). "I did need a reason to curse you before, and that reason was that I was in the presence of a vampire. I mean really, Timmy, I was interrupting your one on one session with that vampire the other night, you're being very silly not remembering. Unless today was a big act, you obviously don't want to be with him, so I'd think you'd be more grateful!" She gives a slight huff.

"Yes, I did have to curse you at his request, but he's powerful and can hypnotize people, and I had to protect my own life once you'd escaped! Protecting life is the most important thing there is, Timmy! And really, I can use magic, but it's not very different from little Carmen here..." she hefts Carmen for emphasis "who's spent years training to be able to fight monsters and has picked up lots of skills and powers as a result. I'm sure she could manage a few curses with the right enchanted item, herself. And I'm sure that if you all come inside I can help lift her curse and we can sort this all out. Now there's a good boy, hmm?" She leans over and lifts Timmy's chin a little so he can look in her eyes and see what an honest, pure soul she's being.

@Anarion

Timothy Oglevee Crompton did not want to be touched right now.

Timothy Oglevee Crompton really ought to have considered that before backsassing a witch while being a sad lump on the ground. Rather limited mobility options, that. He couldn’t really pull away, and his arms were all tangled with his legs and totally unsuitable to brushing her off. At best, he could just. Sort of look cross while wriggling slightly in discomfort.

Not quite the figure of stern defiance. But, perhaps, to a certain cursed hunter, the unintentional picture of bravery in the face of a towering foe?

“‘So, if you want Elly there, be sure to knock off Timmy when you’re done with us.’” He replied, in a passably pitched impression of Annalee’s voice. “So, did Samael make you say that too? I didn’t see him down in the caves with us. Oh, but I was a touch distracted by the murderous werewolf you were egging on, so I must have missed him. How careless of me.”