TheAmishPirate

Breathless Dead

The glaive froze half-formed at the name of the gods, thrumming with potential yet unrealized. The invocations of hospitality bade it retreat and retract once more. Expend not your might, tool of consequence. Sleep lightly on your master’s belt. Her hand remains near to call.

Vasilia only uncoiled to her full height. The grim focus of battle forgot itself in a disarming smile, as her other hand made the gestures of relevant awe towards the home of a host. “Then. In the name of Zeus and Athena, we gratefully accept your welcome to Baradissar. Receive in joy, remain in warmth, and give a little of the plenty of your home.” His first gift to them; the rites of host to guest. They were etched on the hearts of greatest and least alike. When you visited another in a dream, even there they were the first words on your lips. Were it not for that, there would be no words here. She had no practiced reply to a threat beyond threats. But she had her solid ground, and she could not begin to guess why he’d given it to her.

“May I say, sir,” she continued inoffensively. “That this has been the most gracious welcome we’ve received on our journey to date?” Easy. Light. A dash of humor. A testing of the waters. What more will you give her, fallen Emperor? What will you volunteer freely, and what will you make her fight you for?

Beside her, there was an inconspicuous lack of sheep, and it suited her to keep it that way for a few moments longer.

Breathless Dead

Beside him, Vasilia stifled a gasp behind her hand.

Dolce had seen starships and planets and the infinite gulf of the void, and if you’d handed him a tape measure right this moment, he’d set out to prove this was bigger than them all. For one, nobody had put a planet inside anything before, and that seemed to make it all the grander. But this wasn’t some inert ruin either. It was moving. It was thinking. It was alive, in most of the senses that mattered. And not a one of them could see to either end of it. “That.” He blinked, and rubbed at his eyes. “That is a little too big for us.”

“The mind of an emperor. And it still lives…” Vasilia murmured intently. “Interface, interface, does anyone have eyes on the interface? Oh, just think of the intelligence in this behemoth-!” She dashed on ahead, and Dolce had to tear his eyes away and follow.

“...it is too big, right? There’s not a room for this onboard we haven’t found yet? Lord Hades?”

Fellowship: The Heart

Jackdaw sunk against the door, chest heaving with the mad effort to pack more breath into her bursting blood. Every heartbeat throbbed in her head, her neck, her paws, never stopping, never waning. Was it skipping? Was that arrhythmia? Was it? Was it? She couldn’t tell, not even checking her pulse. She couldn’t keep the count. She couldn’t tell the beats. Anything could happen, but nothing would happen. Nothing to make any of it stop.

Then, light! Sound! She wordlessly cringed and cowered, pulling the cloak up tighter around her. Only when the last light flickered on did she dare look at the near-empty tunnel, and the completely inert bit of machinery. If it’d happened to anyone else, she might’ve laughed. But of course, it happened to her. The only one foolish enough to think a ratty old cloak would make a shred of difference against anything in this horrible place. A stupid, lost child, hiding under a blanket so the monsters wouldn’t get her. Even as - even as the monsters gobbled up her friends.

The terrible fox hugged herself tight, squeezing until her knuckles turned white. Then she reached yet deeper. Past cloak and past skin, past page and past memory.

Forward? Backward? Elseward? There was one more option.

There was always one more option for a fox with no name.

[Spending 1 use of Strange Curios to produce a name she might become.]

Breathless Dead

Dolce had a thick coat of insulating wool, and an upbringing on a perfectly temperate and pleasant planet.

Vasilia had an entire ship to look after, a detachment of hoplites that were behaving rather rudely, a lost princess, a lost comrade, an entire voyage to plan, and a rescue operation to carry out.

Which meant that Dolce was not in the least bit uncomfortable, and that he also had to respectfully communicate with their divine employer. It was only fair.

“Good day, Lord Hades.” Dolce bowed from the waist, thinking of iceboxes and fresh snow and blustery winds and “We have stopped here to procure a machine mind, to more quickly navigate the stars in your service. Once we have it, we hope to be underway soon.”

Breathless Dead

“Galnius? Darling?” Vasilia smiled sweetly. “It seems you’ve bumped your head in the crash. And, I do so apologize for that, I’m usually far more precise when steering blind. If only I’d landed us more smoothly, you’d have surely remembered that Redana takes orders from me. You surely didn’t mean to imply your station lies higher than hers, did you?”

She lazily extended her claws, flicking at a bit of nonexistent dirt.

“Now then; would you care to repeat yourself?”

[Rolling to Talk Sense with Grace: 3 + 2 + 2 = 7. Vasilia wants Galnius back under her command, now.]

Fellowship: The Heart

Jackdaw stretched to her full height-

No, not quite stretched. More, jumped? Sprung? Sprung. Sprung to her full height, and didn’t come down.

This was it. Not, it-it, exactly, but a first. King Dragon, in some component of the flesh, no longer just in pictures and words on a page. She’d played this out so many times in her head, in so many places, with so many people. A good chunk of them were on trains, or traintracks, or trains on traintracks, or beside either trains or traintracks - well, most of those had been ever since they’d joined up with Coleman. So. There were at least a few that ought to apply here. She’d, she’d had a speech prepared and everything. She should probably consult it again, yes?

Paws trembling, she rooted through her pockets and produced a well-worn scrap of paper, and hastily scanned it. Yes, yes, yes it was...exactly the way she’d left it. Exactly like she remembered. Hadn’t forgotten. All here. So. All she had to do now was. Say it. Out loud. Like she’d practiced. Like she dreamed. Like all the heroes in all her stories would do. Tell the beast who stole her best friend’s heart just what she was going to do to him.

She opened her mouth.

She screamed.

She ran.

The word was

Coward.

[Rolling to Run Away: 3 + 4 + 2 = 9. Jackdaw...shoot, Jackdaw gets their quickly, avoiding harm along the way.]

Breathless Dead

“Mmm. Well spotted.” Vasilia flicked her tail out of the water for what must have been the hundredth time. It just. Refused to stay draped where she left it. Meddlesome little- “Now where would a trained Kaori strike force spring from? They can’t possibly be living here, and we’d have noticed the Armada catching up to us. Do you see any emblems? Anything about them ring a bell?”

Call it a gut feeling, call it a soaked tail, call it criss-crossing bruises across her chest and a distinctly Redana and Alexa-shaped hole in her ranks, but she just knew she wasn’t going to like the answer.

Breathless Dead

Oh. Good. She was alive and conscious for the embarrassing portion of the landing. What a blessing.

“Captain, are you alright?” Clever hands made short work of her restraints, and Dolce offered her a hand up. It was not quite…

Oh, leave off it. She rose like a dream, escorted from her seat like royalty from a carriage on their way to a fancy dress ball. There was absolutely no difficulties with either knee-high water or legs that refused to function as they should. When she reclined against the front viewport, it was to better take in the surrounding scenery. And if anyone had any complaints as to the accuracy of her account, they could submit them in writing, in triplicate, and she would burn them immediately.

Dolce squeezed her hand comfortingly. Well. Perhaps she’d burn them at her earliest convenience. “Sound off, everyone. Quietly now, we’ve already made enough of an entrance. Galnius, to me, when you can stand.”

Dolce hurried off to help the others up, and she returned her attention to the viewport. When the sound of wading hoplite drew near, she turned briefly to take him in. Still standing, a bit unsteady, none too pleased, but what else was new? Whatever, she could work with it. “What’s your read?” She asked, turning back to the window. “Everything this side of the planet must have seen us go down. We need someplace to get our feet under us, but if stay here we’ll end up fighting room-to-room in a spa.”

[Rolling to Look Closely: 3 + 3 + 1 = 7: How can we all get out of here to someplace safe to regroup?]

Fellowship: The Heart

The word was worthwhile.

...oh, oh no! No, it wasn’t the word just because Wolf had led them to safety and escape from a nightmare station! No, no, how horrible! How - she didn’t know! She couldn’t have possibly known. So, it wasn’t selfish, she was happy because Wolf’d regained their senses, and they weren’t hungry anymore, and, yes, she was happy to be here, but she didn’t do all that to be here, and - oh no Coleman’s been talking to you, quick, quick, what’d he say? Remember, Jackie, remember!

“I-I, I didn’t see them.” Jackdaw shook her head furiously, tucking herself into her sodden cloak. “We were all together, then the next thing I knew I was in a...a...a trove? Desert? Dunes? A room full of dunes of broken glass, and nearly got robbed by a mouse who served King Dragon. Not, no, not Ailee, this one called themselves the Grand Squeaker?”

As she chattered away, her eyes never stopped moving; an echo, of sorts, of the Wolf. Only, the Wolf looked for danger. Followed her instincts. Scanned about the room in her own patterns, her own methods of vigilance. Jackdaw, she followed a thread that only she could see, tracing it from place to place, watching for the story it told. Straining to add it to her ever-growing collection.

[Activating Let Me See That on this part of the station:
-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? (Leaning more towards “use”, and definitely with a mind to “how can we get back here reliably?”)]

Breathless Dead

Flying a ship blind was not all that uncommon. Sometimes, the nearby stars are inhospitable to your approach vector. Sometimes, Poseidon decrees that no one shall witness his wonders this day, and sends a cloud of choking gasses to befoul the field. Sometimes, a skirmisher is blessed by Ares to sock you square in the face, and when the dust settles you’re somehow the one most fit to take the helm. A good Captain relied on as many points of reference as possible, and - by sheer focus, cunning, and the good favor of the gods - could reconstruct their position in an instance.

The art was, however, severely hampered by an inexplicable and unmeasured gap in Vasilia’s memory, that no one aboard knew to correct.

[Rolling to Overcome: 3 + 2 + 0 = 5]