Session 34 - While You Were Partying I Studied The Blade

Previously, across the Horizon...
Fresh off one successful bounty, the crew of the Starfall journeyed forth in search of another.
The volcanic Three Sisters islands were the location spoken of in a bounty for a mysterious demon called Diabolos, and our heroes sailed there to see if they could lure the demon out, just as they had snagged The Last Ship with a similar gambit the night before.
They were successful, and then they were in for the fight of their lives.
Diabolos turned out to be a massive winged snake, one that launched demonic shades of itself to attack their ship, alternating between the Diaboles' small elemental attacks and its own crushing gravity, aiming to sink the Starfall if it was unable to kill the fighters aboard.
As Linnet struggled to keep everyone afloat, as Orrey bolstered his friends and debilitated his foes, as Bast dug deep into his bag of explosive tricks, and as Isa traded the bob and weave of a ship's deck for the leathery hide of a demonic serpent, Yves did perhaps the last thing anyone would expect of him.
Yves negotiated.
Yves entered into a pact with Diabolos to rescue someone or something called 'Cerberus,' and then the attacks ceased.
With two bounties in the ledger and adamant refusal to go any further, our heroes have returned to the Kinneas station to turn their bounties in to Justine and then see about the future.
We join our heroes at the station in the middle of a sunshower that has done nothing to stem the celebratory fever that grips this hidden scenic village...
**
Rahel grabs Apoc's wrist in one hand, Shula's wrist in the other, and they are lost to the festival atmosphere.
Bast seems to be enjoying the rain, even if he's trying not to show it, after the fog and fire of their last stop.
"You know, this would be a great place for us to have a base." Orrey surveys the crowds. "Rest and relaxation a-plenty."
"And then we can't get the crew back on board when it's time to go," Isa says.
Linnet and several younger members of the crew have followed Rahel's lead; an enthusiastic dance party has been emphasized with several feet of floating, swinging braid.
The party is one drummer short of a fully-choreographed dance sequence.
Yves asks Isa, in all sincerity, "Does that mean we should set up a base somewhere unpleasant? Or just somewhere dull?"
"Somewhere people don't dread returning to, but are happy to leave," Isa says. How she considers this advice in relation to her own home isn't elaborated on.
A beaming moogle with a corncob pipe hands out 47th Annual Spinach Festival umbrellas to everyone who isn't dancing.
"So, like, a place of work with no angry bosses or annoying colleagues type of place for the base?
Yves uses the umbrella to hide himself from sun /and/ shower. And any incipient balloons.
Orrey smiles and declines an umbrella.
Isa waves off an umbrella as well. "Let's take care of business before the crew goes native."
Bast looks more confused at the very notion of...commemorative umbrellas...for 47 consecutive...spinach festivals?...than anything else, but declines both the umbrella and the opportunity to comment. At Isa's words, he waves Linnet back over to the ship-party.
Twenty minutes later, you are all in the observatory, Linnet damp but cheerful, Yves three balloons richer.
Yves looks grimly resigned to his balloony fate.
Justine walks in, buttoning up her casual-guest-greeting jacket, the slightest sheen on her neck the only indication she had to break off her training to meet with you. "Isaline, Captain Bast," she says with a pair of nods. "I won't be taking your reports after today should you stick with this line of work, but I understand there is a second airship resting in the fields to our south. Tell me how it went."
Isa gives Bast a very clear "You wanna tell her, or should I?" look.
"Well enough; Linnet lured the clown duo to our ship masterfully, but collected most of that day's bruises for it. That would be the, ah, last ship they'll pilot anytime soon sitting out there." Bast smiles briefly before proceeding. "Didn't seem like enough work for the trip and we were in the neighborhood already, so we detoured to the Three Sisters. That one proved more interesting, but the route is clear. Live captures on both stops, no casualties."
Linnet looks faintly embarrassed.
Justine raises her eyebrows. "Two bounties in two days. Impressive," she says neutrally.
Yves does not actually mouth 'live capture' behind Bast's report. No undermining the captain in front of other people. There was a pamphlet about that or something.
"What was Diabolos?" Justine asks, resting a hand on her hip and looking around for water that isn't there.
"An oversized serpent with a gaggle of demons at its disposal. Isaline could probably tell you more; she boarded it halfway through the fight."
The eyebrows go up again, this time in a great deal of elegant amusement. "Oh, please do, Isaline."
Isa shrugs. "It wasn't getting close enough to reach it from the deck," she says. "Other than that, it's as he said. A great beast, the only other time I've seen similar was north of Saron. I couldn't tell you where it came from but it won't be bothering the Sisters anymore."
"Diabolos had control over Gravity as well, pulling the ships down and crushing us...a bit." Orrey looks warily at Isa to see if he's stepping in at the wrong time.
"And you captured this Diabolos alive," Justine says.
Yves stares thoughtfully at some nearby decor.
"I'm not sure capture is the right word," Isa says.
"More or less. Have you heard anything about falling stars lately?"
Any awkward cricket noises in the pauses in conversation are definitely not coming from Linnet. Though she has spent her down time practicing throwing her voice.
"The astrologian," Justine says, comprehension in her voice.
"Which astrologian?" Isa asks.
"Perilune," Justine says after maybe four seconds of staring at the ceiling. "Carried her own telescope. I happened to meet her about a month ago in the area when she came to see if she could use mine."
At the mention of Perilune, Linnet perks right up, though she doesn't interrupt.
"Right." Bast doesn't miss a beat. "Some of them seem to be relatively benign - this one was rather less so. But once Isa kicked it around a bit, it decided that continuing to fight us was not its best interest, and Yves arranged a ceasefire and terms. So now a rather more compactly arranged Diabolos is riding along with us on our ship, and we have a lead on another one of these. Speaking of which, if you hear of any more, we're interested in them."
"Huh. Small world; we're acquainted," Isa says.
"I mean, just recently-- --oh, you mean Perilune, not-- Right." Yves hushes again.
"So there's merit to what she was saying," Justine says. "Interesting. And, at this point, a diversion for me, so if I do hear of any more, I will pass that along."
"Much appreciated." Bast nods with a half-smile.
"The Seventh Dawn has been going after them, if that helps at all with gathering information about them." Orrey supplies the info helpfully.
"There will be some paperwork for you," she says to the captain of the Starfall, "but I can have Domingo help you with that this time. The ship you captured is not yours to keep, but you are welcome to its armaments. Further rules on that will depend on the person issuing the bounty itself. As far as the prisoners go, we will see them into custody; the issuing party is in Mechon, and I'll have a ship sent there tomorrow. I'll need to see your Diabolos relic to confirm it, and do understand it is my reputation you are staking on the claim that there is no further risk, and should my reputation be damaged by this, I will see it restored off of your ship," she adds with a half-octave drop.
"I'd be insulted by anything less," Isa replies.
Justine pauses at Orrey's mention of the Seventh Dawn, then continues. "I believe I have the gil on hand to give you your payment now, or I can extend a line of credit in the Triad should you want some fitting done on your new ship."
"Understood." Bast's smile is gone as though it was never there, now that the conversation has turned back to business. "We're first in line for any further risk, with it on our ship, and I'm certain we can contain it in case of trouble. As for the payment, the gil would be preferable; we're fresh from the Triad, and don't expect to be back there for a while. In fact, we're headed towards Mechon before too long; we could take care of the transport if that would simplify things."
"Unfortunately, it wouldn't," Justine says. "As I am not an official bounty lister, I need to handle the first and last legs of the trip. If there are any particular messages you need to pass along, I can certainly do that, but the delivery does need to come from my team." She smiles. "And we will need to get you fully registered with an agent from this point forward, too."
"Whatever works best - and yes, I think we're about due for talking to a good agent, and I'd appreciate any other contacts or advice you might share." Bast glances over the Starfall's officer corps. "No messages, though I want to clarify that the letter of recommendation from our ship that Shaul holds is genuine - no idea if the remorse is true, but he took my offer to assist us against Diabolos and performed well."
The less talkative half of the Starfall's officer corps has mostly been distracted by art, either observing it or creating it, but Linnet digs an elbow into each of Yves' and Orrey's sides and they snap to attention. For some value of "snap."
Yves blinks repeatedly at Linnet, and attempts to convey a general question with an ear twitch.
("I think we're supposed to be paying attention now," Linnet whispers out the side of her mouth.)
("I just didn't want to say the wrong thing," Yves whispers back.)
"I will ensure that it is received." Justine taps her fingertips against her arm. "I have two agents in mind for you; you'll want to select one and sign up. I will have a letter of introduction for you for each to take with you."
"Decker Avant, in Thalatte. He's currently without clients, as his last two have jumped ship to other agents in some sort of headhunting. Whether or not he was targeted, I don't know. He's had a bad run of luck as of late, but he cares a great deal for his hunters, and you would have the advantage of being his only hunters, at least for a time.
"Syre Alekhine, Saroni. Yes, her name rhymes with 'sire,' yes, she's very proud of it. Has an understandably high opinion of herself and wants to work with only the best. Her cut is higher, but she commands lucrative jobs. She has an opening for a new team after her one of her current squads didn’t come back from a mission.
"Again, you'll have letters for both. I don't expect you to decide before you leave. You are welcome to dinner, though I won't be able to join you, as we're leaving at sunset. Isaline, if you do head back north for any reason, please contact me and I will be by your side."
Isa nods, and smiles. "Thank you. We have some other business in town, so perhaps dinner when we meet again." More seriously, "I don't know when I'm going back. I know it'll be sooner than I want to, though, so I'll be in touch. Be safe."
"And you. Fair winds, all of you."
"Fair winds and clear skies." The form of the Triad saying might differ slightly, but the sentiment is the same. "We'll try to keep Isaline from getting too bored." The half-smile is back as Bast makes a few more polite noises and leads the party outside.
The village square is just as festive as before. A gray-furred mustachioed moogle is a new addition, slowly chewing some spinach and making quite the face as he reads a newspaper, sitting on a bench under an awning, protected from the rain.
"Well, that's our budget taken care of for the near future. Don't suppose anyone has a line on a full set of cannons or a small cadre of dragoons?"
"Provisions run, be right back. Just small stuff, I promise." Linnet darts off to the food tents.
"I assume we're stripping the first off of Last Ship. Second's going to be harder to come by." Isa points the mustachioed moogle out to Bast. "That's the smith, by the way."
"The one you want to recruit? What's our angle here? How can we convince him to join?" Orrey leans under Yves's umbrella with his sketchbook to keep it dry.
Yves tilts the umbrella over to help Orrey's sketches stay unsplotched. "...money?"
The crew is putting on an impromptu performance, Apoc and Rahel portraying jilted lovers, a local filling the role of the new man stealing Apoc's heart away, clearly in over his head in this whirlwind of reckless energy, but everyone seems to be having a delightful time.
"You can make money as a smith without jumping on an airship, can't you?" Orrey asks.
"Not sure; I'm a crap negotiator. But he's the one I'd want making weapons for my crew, so I figured we'd see if we can make it happen."
Linnet returns with a bulging bag over her shoulder. "Did someone need a negotiator?"
"Sure, but theirs are...well. I'm looking for more than 'adequate' here. Not that it matters much without trained gunners, just yet." Bast looks over at the moogle, glances at Yves, then very deliberately looks back at Isa. "Want to do the introductions, since you've met?"
"Stocked up on local delicacies. Spinach pasta, spinach energy shakes, spinach-and-cheese pretzels, spinach wine, something that I think was meant to be a spinach hard liquor but might do as engine fuel..."
"Hand me the liquor," Isa says.
"When Mama Alyon is trying to get a customer to leave their current supplier, she feeds them and has a few glasses of wine and then wins them over slowly but surely. People tend to lean towards the new when they feel safe and comfortable." Orrey shrugs.
"If you want me to look at the cannons and see if I can improve them..." Yves says encouragingly to Bast.
Linnet looks extremely dubious, but a bottle labeled FuisceSpionáiste finds its way into Isa's hands. "...wait, what does your mother supply? Tell me it's not spinach whiskey."
"She's a weaver. Or was, now it's more like she runs the shop full of weavers working for her."
"Thank you," Isa says, taking the bottle as the last syllable flips upwards. She crosses the square towards the moogle's bench, lifting a hand to catch his attention.
Bast looks torn, but manages a "...maybe one to start with. As a prototype." in response to Yves.
"Oh, I have got to see this," Linnet says.
Artemicion looks up, and then rustles his paper in greeting, scooting over a bit on the bench to free up a spot.
"Sure, I could run it through a few different options. See what goes bang most reliably and accurately and furthest and--oo, I should consider secondary effects, and aiming issues, and reload times, and..." Yves digs into his satchel to pull out a notebook, which he proceeds to deploy in a rather different fashion than Orrey does his own.
Isa nods and takes the offered spot on the bench. "Forty-seven years of spinach," she says with dry wonder.
"They say the first harvest is the one that forever addles your brain," the moogle replies, glancing up at the lovingly-prepared banner.
(Linnet passes a bag of spinach-dusted popcorn around the crew and waits to see if Isa's negotiating approach involves actually drinking the spinach whiskey.)
"Mm," Isa agrees, nodding. She looks at the bottle in her hand for a second, shrugs, and pulls the cork. "How many of these have you seen?"
"Festivals? Too many. Festivals celebrating forgettable leafy greens? One," he says, folding the paper and holding it in his lap. "I've been here for twelve weeks and I ship out tomorrow. Commission complete, time to search for another."
Isa samples the spinach hooch. Spinhooch? Whatever. She does not cough but she has trained military fortitude. "Nowhere specific to go?" She then holds out the bottle, and allows Artemicion to decide his own fate.
"No," and then he looks at the bottle and follows with "Koehnta no."
Isa pulls the bottle back, without blame or condemnation. "Interested in discussing an option?"
The mustache twitches. "Proceed."
"I have an airship with an empty armory, and that's not a situation that sits well with me. You've seen the type of weapon I'm willing to trust my life to; I don't relax my standards much for my crew."
Artemicion nods, pompom swaying above his head. "What sort of forge do you have?"
Orrey writes down in his notebook a checklist, item 1: "Get forge." Item 2: "Commandeer a room for the museum."
"At the moment? None. I don't know the first thing about setting up a forge. But I would wager that if you talked with our engineer, he'd probably have at least five ideas on how to tap in to the ship's engines for power. And two of those ideas would work."
"...and one of them would turn the engine _into_ a forge...", Bast mutters under his breath.
(Linnet leans over to Yves and whispers, "Please don't mention the angry god in the engine until he's agreed to join us.")
Yves perks up an ear. "What was that about the engine? Because I have some ideas about how we could use the pulse rhythm of the power source as regulatory timing for some new mechanisms, and why not do a little forge automation while we're at it, if we're getting one installed? Right?"
(Yves whispers back to Linnet, "I wasn't going to. That's, like, third date information.")
("Just checking.")
Artemicion harrumphs. "Hell of an offer, being hired to run a theoretical forge. I'm not interested in just mass-producing a bunch of pointy sticks, either. I make art, and yes, I'll take work to support that, but there had better be more to this offer than just filling an inventory slot."
"I had some cannon upgrade ideas," Yves begins, and then thinks better of it.
"I can't imagine the crew being happy with mass production either. They're...individuals." Isa says this last word through a tight-lipped smile.
Artemicion looks out at the crowd, as Apoc leaps into the local boy's arms, terror written plain across his face, as Rahel brandishes an umbrella like a sword while twirling another one over her head. "...they came with you, didn't they."
(Linnet waves cheerfully.)
Bast, apparently deciding this is as good a cue as any, walks over to the bench and sits down with a settling-in sort of sigh before turning to Artemicion. "Your pardon for jumping in - sounds like this is getting to be a ship-size sort of talk. Bast, of the Starfall."
Isa nods to Bast. "Captain."
"Tell me - what sort of forge would you want to work with?"
Artemicion opens his mouth to answer, and then stops. After a moment, he pries a spinach leaf out from between his teeth. "The finest ramshackle forge in all of Ducorde, for this impossible task I have been given."
(In the background, Linnet has coaxed Orrey into a relatively simple round dance with several of the actors.)
He turns to Bast and Isa, less closed off than he was before. "I have one commission left that I'm still trying to fill, one I've been working on for eighteen months now. I have been tasked to create the perfect failure."
"Oh?" That's worth at least a raised eyebrow from Bast.
"The perfect imperfect blade. A sword of such quality and peerless skill that it can cut nothing and harm no one. A masterwork tragedy." He looks for all the world like he wants to spit. "It vexes me, kupo."
"A perfect failure of a blade, sounds like someone I met on a train once," Isa says around a swallow of spinhooch.
"A blade that heals?" Orrey is intrigued by the riddle. "Instead of wounds?"
"I take it this is not someone just wanting a fancy sword to practice with," Bast says.
"Oh, no, he had plenty of swords already. This was a very specific request. It is so much simpler than any other requests I have received, and yet I find myself no closer to solving it in a manner that I deem sufficient. If you think you can help me determine what sort of sword this will be, I can pledge my cause to yours for a time." He pauses. "...with thirty thousand gil for a forge, of course." Again. "To start."
"Fair." Bast nods slowly, thinking it over. "Don't have any philosophers on board, but we'll be all over Ducorde; better chances of finding your answer than drinking spinach here or chasing other work, I'd think."
"Is that you offering me the position of smith, Captain?" Artemicion asks.
"That it is. And while we're seeing about the forge - ever work with cannons?"
"A few times, yes," he says, getting to his feet. "Let me gather my things and I can meet you at your ship in an hour."
"We'll see you back there this evening, then - the crew's earned some leave. Looking forward to working with you." Bast offers a firm handshake before the smith departs.
Artemicion returns it, and then heads back to the Cassida Estate for his belongings.
"Oh!" Orrey says after spinning a bit in the dance. "What about a sword with the blade on the inside instead of the outside? You swing the blunt side at people, but it's got a perfectly forged sharp blade on the inside! I read a story about someone who carried one, once."
"...pray tell, what side is the inside of a sword?" inquires Linnet, without missing a step.
"Well, with a curved sword with one side sharpened, generally the sharp side is on the outside of the crescent, I think." Orrey nods sagely.
And as the dance continues...
End session.