Session 150: Cliffhanger

Previously, Across the Horizon...
It has all been for this, Bast realizes.
Leading a ship of fools. Organizing a heist that nearly killed them all. Keeping his crew from killing each other over misheard threats. Installing drains for incomplete water features. Learning the flashpoint of ancient ceramic. Discovering his hat size. All of it has been for this.
He has stood before the most powerful people in Thalatte and commanded their attention and their silence. He has opened metaphorical doors so they would stumble through and land in also-metaphorical spike traps. He has threatened, he has cajoled, he has acted, he has performed, he has led.
All of this has been for this moment, the one where Osvald Temenos enters the room, where he looks around at those assembled with barely a hint of recognition until he sees Luca, until his smile at seeing a friendly face staggers to a halt when he realizes he cannot read friendship in their even expression, until his reaction to seeing his protege Lynn Fairband is that of fear and anxiety.
Bast hasn't held the same sense of justice as the rest of his crew. Certainly not Linnet. Likely not Orrey. Yves... it depends who Yves most recently talked to. Isa, perhaps. Luca, who knows about Luca.
Bast has his own sense of justice.
Tonight, he'll see it done.
We join our brave adventurers as Lake calls everyone back to their seats or spots for final arguments...
**
Bast, flanked by a skull dripping shadows on one side and variously disconcerted members of the Board on the other from Osvald's point of view near the door, narrows his eyes over a tight, narrow smile.
Linnet wraps a protective arm around Lynn's slightly-quivering shoulders and tries to keep the defensive hate out of her eyes.
There is a sound something like a viera clearing his throat, and something like hooves scraping across ice. It is coming from the direction of Yves. Approximately. Or perhaps more from the shadows that had pooled away across that selection of people and which now rise up over the Speaker once more. There are lights inside the eye sockets of that skull. There are metal-slick antlers that pierce through the ceiling. There is a great deal of... shadow, for lack of a more immediately accurate term, drawing itself out like the grasping twigs at the ends of tree branches in winter, toward Temenos. I know you. I remember you.
Osvald Temenos's initial line of argument -- that this is entirely too late to spring a meeting on him unprepared, regardless of the nature of this meeting, this should adjourn until morning -- never makes it to a second sentence. He tumbles onto the ground, staring up at the skull staring down at him, petrified and awed.
The lights in Kirin's sockets flicker. Amusement? Wrath? There is no speech yet to clarify the matter either way.
For their part, Luca merely moves their chair from "next to the door" to "blocking the door".
Orrey observes from his position slightly behind Linnet and Lynn, unable to hide his disgust towards Temenos.
Bast takes a slow step forward, pulling a hand from his pocket, and flicks a tile through the air to land in Temenos' lap. "Hello, Osvald. We got your letter."
There is a hiss of Osssss from the enormous skull that lurks above Bast's head.
"Theatrics aside, Mr. Temenos, I believe you owe us an explanation. Or several. Or at the very least, your protege." Linnet nudges Lynn and the tonberry girl stands up straighter and tries to look angry, in addition to anxious. "Would you care to start with that tile you're holding, and its several hundred relatives, and their provenance? And how they ended up in an envelope addressed to a crew member of the Starfall and applicant to the Foundation?" Linnet's tone is so even, she might be discussing a breakfast order.
Despite the depths of his soul looming over him, Temenos tries his best in his protest. "What letter?" he demands. He holds the tile in front of him like an undersized shield.
Orrey walks around in a smooth glide across the floor, his hand holding the necklace full of the holy symbols of The Twelve, holding one particular symbol that glows brighter and brighter with a harsh, white light. A revealing light that allows nothing to hide in the shadows. He turns to face Temenos, his eyes glowing with the same light. A feeling of heaviness enters the room, a weight that allows none to escape, none to hide, none to get away with murder. Orrey speaks with a voice that is entwined with that of the goddess Saroni, a resonance that allows no lie to exist within it. "You know what letter. Tell us. Tell us all the crimes you have committed, Osvald Cernd Temenos." The light grows more intense from both the symbol and Orrey's eyes, spotlighting the accused.
Temenos scrambles back on the floor from Orrey. The shadows Orrey's light casts mingle with Kirin's own. "What -- what is the meaning of this?!" he stammers. "Make him -- them -- stay back! Stay back from me!"
"Theatrics aside, Mr. Temenos, I believe you owe us an explanation. Or several. Or at the very least, your protege." Linnet nudges Lynn and the tonberry girl stands up straighter and tries to look angry, in addition to anxious. "Would you care to start with that tile you're holding, and its several hundred relatives, and their provenance? And how they ended up in an envelope addressed to a crew member of the Starfall and applicant to the Foundation?" Linnet's tone is so even, she might be discussing a breakfast order.
Temenos's bluster vanishes, swallowed up by the shadows, burned by the light. "She was never supposed to come back here," he practically spits.
"Well, yes, clearly; she was supposed to be at the bottom of the ocean, encased in weights. The question is why your chosen method of ensuring your student's academic future involved an anonymous assassination attempt, rather than, say, a cease-and-desist letter. Really, Osvald, is this institution worth a murder charge?" (There's the slightest bit of patronizing contempt creeping into her voice, but she sounds like she's talking to a naughty child.)
"Oh, it wasn't going to kill her," he scoffs. He no longer raises his eyes to either of the presences looming over him. "A warning. She spends all of her time traveling with mercenaries now, surely they'd keep her safe. Or open her mail for her, as clearly you all did."
"Are you aware of what exactly you sent her?" Linnet lifts her hand from Lynn's shoulder and displays the ugly blood bruise left by the tiles.
"For Fairband to make it as a Member of the Foundation, she would need to be chosen on the strengths of her presentation. Meracydia had a similar path of entry. Solving ages-old puzzles, riddles that vexed explorers for generations. If Meracydia's presentation went off without a hitch, that was it. I hoped she wouldn't come back for the next quarter; I hoped that we'd have one quarter to ourselves. But no."
"Rather than relying on Lynn's own merits and trying again next quarter? What did you have to gain from rushing into it? Were you running out of room to embezzle?"
"Locating the Phantom Train is all well and good," he says dismissively, "but how does it compare to finding the godsdamned Forgotten City? It doesn't! There is no standing against that! We were fortunate that whoever those people were attacked her, and no, I had nothing to do with that dirty business. But it showed me how dangerous she was, and I made sure that the rest of my compatriots here understood that. There are so many here who are resistant to change. A simple matter to stoke those fears. Would you want someone bringing murder into your home? Of course not. Far easier to brand her as dangerous to force her out."
"And so, you stole artifacts, attempted murder, committed slander and libel, dishonored your wife's name, disgraced your own student's work, stole a quarter of a million gil in the process, and wasted this institution's valuable time and resources." The entire time, Linnet's tone has not shifted away from 'scolding a child.' "Well, I hope it was worth it. Because I think you'll find explaining yourself to me is the 'good cop' option here. Captain? Speaker? Oracle? Would you care to take over?"
"Disgraced her work?" Of all things for him to focus on, he chooses this. "She should be thanking me. It was my mercenaries who kept her safe. It was my connections who brought her clout and reputation. Without my guidance, Fairband would still be dithering about outside a door hoping someone would knock and open it for her to let her in! I championed her when of course no one else would!"
We recognize this one, says Kirin, rather dismissively. The terrifying skull-and-shadow figure does not have much to say on matters of embezzling, petty or otherwise.
"Go on, Lynn. Tell him what you think of his 'guidance,'" Linnet whispers in the terrified girl's ear.
"Speak your truth, girl!" Temenos snaps at the cowering Fairband. "Is this how you would gain admission to the Foundation? By shaking in a corner? Honestly."
"I am no Oracle, Osvald. But I have a prediction for you." If anything, Bast's quiet anger makes Temenos' tirade seem more out of place here. "She will stand tall in these halls long after your name is forgotten."
Orrey watches Saroni's light as it haloes Bast during that last statement.
"Let her speak, thou poltroon, thou rag, thou remnant, thou moldy rogue." Those of you who've seen Linnet onstage will recognize the slight glow in her eyes and the increased volume of her voice. This is Dramatic Linnet. She takes a step toward him. "Thou whoreson zed, thou unnecessary letter! Four of thy five wits went halting off, and now is the whole man governed with one: so that if thou hast wit enough to keep thyself warm, let thee bear it for a difference between thyself and thy mount; for it is all the wealth that thou hast left, to be known a reasonable creature. If thou spendst word for word with me, I shall make thy wit bankrupt! A most notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promise breaker, the owner of no one good quality! A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen as thou'rt toss’d with! Thou sodden-witted lord! Thou hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows! Now sit down and shut up!" Linnet whips around, returns to Lynn's side, and gestures into the silence for the tonberry to speak. "What are you on ab--"
"Shut up!!" Lynn's outburst pierces the room. "I thought you cared about my work! I thought you cared about the Foundation! I thought you cared about anything other than yourself! I deserve better than you!" Lynn slams her fists against her legs and glares knives at Temenos. "It's a good thing your wife isn't here to see you now. You wouldn't be able to trade on her reputation for another second." The idea of Lynn speaking up against him has bewildered Temenos into silence. Lynn fills that silence. "You had no right to ruin Celeste's reputation and you had no right to imprison this very nice shadow horse and you certainly had no right to try to kill anyone! If this is the kind of person that the Foundation keeps then I don't want to be a part of it at all!"
A shadowy limb taps approvingly on the table near Lynn.
"Miss Fairband raises a good point." Lake rises from his chair. "So long as Osvald Temenos is part of the Foundation, budding young explorers will want nothing to do with us. What right do we have to ask anyone to join us when we harbor one such as he?"
A tiny breeze twirls around Lynn's tail. While the Board talks among themselves and Temenos mutters angrily, Linnet flicks her fingers and encases the obnoxious twit in a soundproof bubble. "It won't hold for long, but it'll give us a few minutes. Lynn, given the chance, what do you think should happen to him?"
"As long as he can't do to anyone what he tried to do to Celeste again, I don't care what happens to him," Lynn mutters. She doesn't even want to look at him.
"Fed to sharks? Roasted alive? Buried under an avalanche of old receipts?" Linnet tries to get Lynn to crack a smile.
Lake raps his cane on the floor after a few minutes. The taxidermied bird flaps its wings and flies from Lake's chair to Temenos's shoulder. Its talons dig into the disgraced member's arm when he tries to dislodge it. "Captain," Lake says, summoning Bast's attention. "When you speak to Miss Meracydia next, please give her this along with my apologies." He drops a signet ring into Bast's palm, engraved with the symbol of the Nanab Foundation. "The Foundation has a number of retractions to issue, and a membership to revoke. She has a place here should she wish it, and I will tell her that personally before I resign my seat on the Board. I would not hold you here any longer."
Yves appears to be having a quiet conversation with Kirin. The shadowy limbs are drawing back in as they speak, and underneath skull, masks, and darkness, the viera looks absolutely exhausted.
Bast nods gravely, fingers closing around the ring. "I will do so promptly. Thank you all" - there's a hint of a smile there, between the light of Saroni on one side and living shadow on the other - "for your time."
A short time later...
The Starfall does not have a room dedicated for celebrations. (It did for two weeks, but then Barea Jidoor claimed it for coat storage. Barea owns entirely too many coats.) Instead, the officers and a few others take in the late evening sky on the deck, sipping drinks with little umbrellas in them.
Celeste lifts the ring to look at it for the seventh time in the last sixty seconds. A small gold chain keeps it around her neck.
"I don't know who those rings are made to fit, but I assume it's someone who doesn't use their hands very much. Why are they always so darn big?" Linnet raises a celebratory glass to Celeste.
Chmurka stays in the shadows of the doorway, hoping not to be perceived as she works on a second drink.
Yves looks half awake. But half is enough to hold up a drink with an umbrella in it, while he slumps against a railing. "I may need to make Kirin a terrarium up here... somehow. Open plains," he mutters to himself.
"Thunderbun, you're off duty for a few days while you sleep. We'll be checking on that." Linnet hands him a cinnamon roll. "Whatever you did there...is it like that with most masks? Or is this one particularly strong?"
"Maybe you make a tiny box that's vast inside...somehow." Orrey muses, taking another sip. It's taken a lot of sips to ease off the burning headache from the light in his eyes.
"Orrey, you're off too. Okay, Bast, I vote we do nothing more strenuous for the rest of the week than grocery shopping." More cinnamon rolls are distributed.
"A box doesn't sound much like open. Next time we're flying over some plains, we can set down for a while, see what they think." Bast takes another sip of his drink, the free hand by his side flashing good work back to the doorway behind him.
Chmurka perks an ear up upon hearing her name from below decks, and heads down to see who needs her and if she wants to be found.
Luca thanks Linnet, and starts picking at their roll. "Weirdest hearing I have ever been a party to, certainly."
"We tend to weird lots of things. Like language." Linnet absentmindedly tosses a bite of cinnamon roll to the kitten who's trying to dig into her (closed) bag.
Apoc tries to clink glasses with Celeste, but catches her looking at the ring again. He delicately clinks the rim of his glass against the ring. "Are we losing you to the pull of the distant horizon?"
"It's different," Yves says to Linnet, after several bites of cinnamon roll. "Not the mask, Kirin's lovely, but speaking... that way. It only works if the mask wants to speak through me to others. I wasn't entirely sure if that would work, until I tried it." One ear twitches slightly. "Maybe I should try that with Diabolos some time, so that the crew can get to know--well, maybe if I'm already planning to sleep for the week afterward."
"Maybe you can speak through a tiny bat or two. Scare the pants off fewer of them at once."
"Oo, maybe so." The rest of what Yves has to say disappears into cinnamon roll.
"...no," Celeste answers. "At least not yet. I want to see what those retractions say, and then I want to talk to Isa about it. Wherever she is." Celeste's eyes scan the northern sky.
"On the other hand, there's something to be said for efficiency." Bast raises his cinnamon roll in a small mock-salute to Linnet and bites in.
Chmurka reappears at the top of the steps. She doesn't try to hide in the shadows or keep a low profile. "Captain?"
The half-eaten roll is forgotten on the railing as Bast turns around. "Problem?"
"Saroni." Chmurka hesitates. "The city."
Bast makes a small do go on wave in response.
"It's been invaded."
"...people, animals, gods, shadow forces?"
"Cardia on the move?" He throws back the last of his drink and doesn't pay attention to where he sets the glass down, thoughts already elsewhere.
(He set the glass down on Triscuit's head. Triscuit immediately steals it and starts wrestling.)
Yves mumbles something vaguely disapproving. Or just tired.
"They took Saroni. A fleet is on its way here now. They want to take the eastern port. We need to go. Cardia has declared war on Machanon."
END DISC THREE