Session 95: God of War
The heist of the century, or perhaps merely the week, is over. Thanks to Isa’s flying and the rest of the party’s desperate tricks, Meteor made a successful getaway from the Yinha docks, avoiding the Seventh Dawn and its multitude of countermeasures. Now comes the most frustrating part of the heist; waiting at the rendezvous point for the Decoy Team to arrive. If they do not arrive within 24 hours, Meteor will head out to find the Starfall and launch a rescue operation. (The concept of the roles being reversed was a fun thought experiment for the officers, with Bast and Isa trading bets on who would just steal the ship and take off, and how long would it take for them to make that decision.)
Our brave adventurers expected to find an untamed wilderness, and perhaps some living creatures unwilling to share, which is why Bast sent Celeste ahead with a small team to tame the wilderness for their arrival.
What they find, instead...
**
"...a resort?"
Celeste Meracydia stands in front of Isa and Yves, dressed in a sleeveless top, sun-blocking hat, tan pants sporting a multitude of pockets, and a sturdy pair of hiking boots. She is dressed for adventure. She is holding a small glass with something fizzy and green inside of it. "Uh," says Yves, blinking rapidly. Perhaps he has not yet come down from the adrenaline high of flinging lightning at two pursuing ships while attempting to properly thank Diabolos for service in times of mild (or moderate? he'll have to check the chart to be sure) crisis. "Was there a resort here before? Is that a thing? Do we have a privacy issue? Secrecy, I mean. That other thing ending in -cy that causes problems for not being caught by various angry parties after we've, let's say, re-distributed some items and their long-term locations." Isa has her hand up to her brow, to shade her eyes as she looks around. "So, when we said 'Celeste, we're going to need to lay low in Ba Nghìn Con Dao for a bit, go prep the site' you decided that meant..."
"...a party?" Bast gives the whole setup a quizzical look. "I take it things went well on your end." "Well, the plan was to put up tents and clear an area for a fire and make sure we had weather-proofing," Celeste says. She pauses to sip her drink. "But when we found the building and no one was here, we decided to leave the tents wrapped up."
"And... so you brought the bar out here, to make drinks, that makes sense," says Yves, in the tone of someone who has actually experienced many impromptu parties before, if usually involving more unusual and less legal substances than alcohol. "Sure. Okay! But. The. Uh? The. You know." He gestures uncertainly. Celeste gives Isa a bright, chipper smile. "It's very suspicious here," she says, sporting that dangerous adventurer's expression. "We've had a delightful time. Come in out of the sun, we'll give you the grand tour while you wait."
Isa gives Celeste a look that fully acknowledges the escapades of their past. "Let's get Meteor covered up first, in case they're searching from the air. Then the tour. And a drink."
"Probably the best order, but it could be coverage, explanation, drink, then tour." Yves clears his throat. "Hypothetically." The path from the clearing for Meteor's landing is hardly a path, just an area where the grass is slightly matted down more than anywhere else. Two shimmering green birds with hooked beaks and long talons watch the quintet as they navigate through the underbrush. An old stone bridge takes them over a ravine, a winding turn to the left goes behind a thin waterfall, and then they step into a small section of paradise. "Okay, yes," Yves says, pointing. "That is exactly what I was asking about." It is a single-story building of orange and green wood, surrounded by a wide porch with umbrellas over reclining deck chairs and beachside tables. A pool stretches ninety feet alongside the building, a bar built into the natural stone on one end. Another path, this one lined with gray and black stones, heads further up into the lush jungle. Sitting in one of the chairs under the umbrellas, with his ankles crossed, a book in his hands, and a bit of suncreen still wet on his nose, is Owen Moda.
"Shula and Ivy are... around," Celeste says with a wave of her non-drinking hand. "Ryna's inside, still. She wanted to be absolutely certain no one was here, but we've checked it for a solid three hours already. Owen was keeping track of the value of everything we're using so we can leave payment, but Shula told him he was stressing her out, so that's why he's out here instead."
"But how is the pool functional if no one was here when you arrived?" Yves demands. "Or is it not functional? It looks functional! I have questions! Like that one about the pool! Or about--wait, is Apoc here?"
Isa's squinting is not entirely due to the sun. "And there's no sign of ownership."
"Pool was filled," Celeste says. "But no one's here. Maybe they're traveling? It's weird. I can show you the weird, or I can show you the drinks. What'll it be?" She takes one look at Linnet's exhausted expression. "Drink for you, at least. Maybe plural. Maybe exponential plural."
"Drink first, weird second," Isa decides.
"We can get drinks and then drink them while being shown the weird," Yves says. "Win-win!"
Yves attempts to offer Isa a high-five, optimistically, over having the same answer to this question.
Isa doesn't leave Yves hanging. She's perturbed, not monstrous.
Celeste leads the group inside the resort.
Bast definitely feels the call of the drinks after the day they've had, but manages a "You go ahead, I need to reload a few things. In case anyone else shows up."
Yves gives Bast a thumbs up as he goes. It's great when friends reload! Or whatever. That defensive stuff that isn't magic. (Weird.) The decor inside the resort -- subdued colors but very ostentatious prints, emphasis on geometric shapes on the furniture, abstract art and statues that could maybe claim to be animal, vegetable, or mineral, depending on the angle one views it as -- is tremendously out of date, Yves notes, but is a very good representation of that particular style. Eighty years late, but done very tastefully.
"Plenty of alcohol when we arrived," Celeste says, "but nothing mixed or cold. Fortunately, Owen's got a natural talent in that department. I'll get him to get you something in just a minute."
"Alright," Isa says, "so we're definitely an occupying force."
"So it's pre-existing mysterious alcohol?" Yves asks, but in a way that does not even slightly imply this will keep him from drinking it. Celeste exits as Shula and Ivy enter from the halls. "Afternoon," Shula says. "This place is strange."
"But not the kind of strange where we're fighting someone fused into a wild monster through unethical experimentation that has gone even more wrong than it intended, just the kind of strange that gets us free mixed drinks and a nice pool, right?" Yves asks. It's good to check on that sort of thing.
"No, just the kind of resort that has twelve rooms and only one of them has a bed that's ever been slept in," Shula replies. Owen and Celeste return, and Owen heads behind the bar. He immediately starts on the typical Osler family cocktail with practiced ease.
Isa frowns a bit. "Yeah, that's strange. Any other stores besides liquor?" "But seriously," Yves says, lowering his voice as if it might keep Isa from hearing--which is not happening unless she's been struck deaf through completely coincidental means--"is Apoc here? Also, no bodies? No bodies is good. Except for when it's bad. Probably good, though. Not a lot of things kill people and leave NO trace, so it's probably really good."
"Food," Ivy says, then elaborates. "Healthy vegetable stock, plenty of fish on ice, large stockpile of non-perishables. Shula says that it wouldn't feed the Starfall for even a week, but it's good food. The vegetables are fresh."
"Apoc is here," Shula says. "We sent him on a circuit of the outer grounds one more time, just in case there were any pit traps."
"And how long ago did you arrive?" Isa asks, "because it sounds like someone could be back any minute."
"Not really in a salad mood," Yves says vaguely.
"Five hours," Ivy says.
Isa winces.
"None of the dishes are damp," Shula says, "and everything has long since been put away. Laundry is similarly empty; nothing waiting to be washed, nothing recently washed. The food is fresh, but nothing has been cooked in here in days, I could smell it if it has been."
"So as long as we don't stay longer than the ideal storage time for fresh fish," Yves says brightly, "we'll be fine!" "Shula," Isa asks politely, "do you have any vacation houses?"
"Everything is very clean," Owen says. The drink he hands Isa looks like it could firm up an off-kilter table. The drink he hands Yves looks like it could disintegrate an entire factory.
"Why would anyone have a--oh, right," Yves says.
Yves accepts that drink with delight, and has a mighty sip of it to test its disintegration capabilities.
"Nope," Shula answers.
Linnet gives Isa a weird look over a glass of something bright pink and frothy. Her shoes are discarded, her hair is halfway to unbraided, and she looks slightly less in danger of collapse than an hour ago. "Thank you, Owen." After a fortifying sip, Isa nods to Shula. "When you have a vacation home, and you want to use it, you don't want to waste time filling the larder or making the beds or chasing pigeons out of the eaves. But you also don't want to be distracted by having your people running around taking care of things while you're trying to get relaxed. So you send them in early to get ready, and then you arrive to a clean and well-prepared retreat, all set to get away from the world." She looks around again. "And it'd look quite a bit like this."
Yves, who has had three large gulps of his drink, sighs. "Does this mean we have to pack up and go before, like, debriefing or anything?"
"We can probably manage the debrief, but don't plan to camp for the weekend. Deferring to your expertise, of course." Linnet with her hair almost fully unbraided looks even smaller; that is a lot of hair for one sylph.
"Whoever lives here, they haven't done any redecorating in a while," Yves says critically, and gulps down the rest of his drink. "Anyway!" The door closest to the pool opens, and Apocynthion comes in, dressed very similarly to Celeste. Bast gets a salute and a "Captain," Yves gets a charming grin and a "Hey." Linnet gets a wave approaching friendly, but there remains stiffness and distance. Isa gets a nod without eye contact so he can once again be removed from her immediate universe.
"Heyyy," Yves says, holding out his empty glass in the direction he last remembers Owen standing.
"No pit traps," he says to Shula, who almost looks disappointed. "There is a hot spring."
Anyone watching Isa's face might catch a moment of pained wistfulness at Apoc's final two words, but she covers it with another drink. "We'll need to make our stay as short and as non-disruptive as possible. If worse comes to worst I will do my best formal apologizing."
"There is also what might be a graveyard," Apoc adds. "A collection of shrines or monuments, perhaps? Not enough room for burial plots, at the very least. I steered clear."
"And we'd better keep our quarry fairly under wraps," continues Linnet, absently ignoring Apoc. "Speaking of which, Bast, I assume this is nowhere near where we're supposed to be, uh, handing it off?"
"That's in the Triad," Bast quietly replies while tightening some sort of spring temporarily revealed by his rolled-up sleeve. "I guess people with vacation resorts on private islands aren't very with it when it comes to decorating," Yves says. "...also, uh, we should definitely talk to it? Before we do anything else? Just in case it has opinions about how it ends up, how did we put it, re-distributed in its long-term location plans?"
"Talk to what now?" Isa asks.
"The knife? Sword, spear, uh, blade. Thing. Don't remember the exact categorization. Just in case? Didn't really do an inventory, so if there's anything else that needs a chat before final distribution, now's the time to mention it, but, uh, you know." Yves makes a distinctly awkward gesture. "Gotta respect the, uh, you know. Consent. Of things. That have the ability to give or retract it. Just in case. Gotta check. You know. Just in case. That the case. Might be. That things have opinions on things. As they sometimes do. Because not all things are... things?" He waves his empty glass about in case this will somehow resolve his explanation.
"I suggest, Yves, that we lay out a few details on our end before we talk to the Blade, so that we have as many reasons as possible to swear all at once, rather than successive crises." Linnet knocks back about half her cocktail in one gulp. "We don't tell it what our plans are, but we get our story straight before we open a channel of communication, so that we have as much as possible to plan around as soon as possible." She gives Bast a hard stare while manipulating a narrow breeze to twist her hair into a complicated knot around two very large and pointy sticks.
"I just wanted to ask what it wanted," Yves says, bewildered. "What kind of story needs to be straight there?"
Owen refills Yves's glass, to Celeste's entirely unnoticed chagrin.
"Yves, I'd like to open up to the Blade asking what it wants while also knowing what we, the crew, have committed to. Without telling it, of course, but I want us to end communication with the Blade and then go 'well, how do we plan around this,' rather than having our wonderful planner spring it on us." Linnet tightens the sticks in her hair with a shove. "For all we know, 'release it into enemy territory so it can wreak havoc' might be an appealing plan."
"I mean, if it wants that..." Yves sips his new drink, with a bright smile to share between Owen and Apoc, in unequal distribution across the affected parties. Bast pauses in the middle of mixing up some unholy concoction. "Well, I don't think we're handing it off. What we tell it about how we came by it...hm." He swirls the drink in his glass, green and orange partially blending together. "I'd guess it's not too charitably inclined towards the Seventh Dawn given how they see their masks, might be worth leaning on that."
"And how are you planning to deal with your contact, in that case?" demands Linnet.
"We can just steal their, uh, I mean, re-distribute their..." Yves has a sip while he tries to think this through to its conclusion. "I'm sure we'll come up with something."
"The contact we have made a very serious enemy in order to mollify," Isa points out.
"Oh, I'd still meet with them." Bast takes a sip of his drink, makes a face, and starts going through the bottles for something to complement the bitter concoction he's got.
"Yeah, but the Seventh Dawn was, despite that one really nice person in all the armor who I still think fondly of, still sort of..." Yves makes an obscene gesture. "...already, you know? So that was inevitable. Right? And anyway they're probably not sure it was us. We have that whole good decoy team doing their thing, and all that. I bet they've done an amazing job of pretending to be us while we were there." "Why did we do this heist?" Owen asks innocently.
Bast pauses with his hand on a dark green bottle for a long breath, then pulls a letter out of his coat and slides it down the bar towards Isa.
Celeste leans against the bar next to Owen, watching the captain curiously.
"I would say 'to rescue an innocent bladed weapon that needed rescuing, and also stick it to those jerks,' but that's probably not accurate," Yves says with all earnestness to Owen. "That may be my core reason, but I would've helped everyone regardless. It's the whole 'part of a crew' thing. Like being partners in a lab, but with, one hopes, fewer ethically dubious choices!"
Isa lifts an eyebrow, then sets her drink down and picks up the letter.
"He's very big on the dark and mysterious bit. But we'll sort it out soon and figure out whose day needs saving," Linnet tells Owen with a confidence she doesn't feel.
That might almost be a smile on Bast's face in response to Linnet, but it promptly hides behind another sip of his drink.
Bast, There is a sword you need to find for me. The Frost Fair Blade. Bring it to the Triad by the end of the month, and I'll make a trade with you for the one thing you've never been able to find on your own. I know where your father is. I know your little spy can track the Blade down. End of the month. Disappoint me, and you might find that information all over the Dicelan Sea. R
Isa scans the letter, folds it back up. Rather than sharing the contents, she asks Bast, "I take it the information being referred to at the end isn't the same as the information being offered as payment?"
"The end's about the middle. Wouldn't be the first time he's made someone disappear that way." Bast isn't looking anyone in the eye.
"Oh. 'Information' was a euphemism." Isa frowns. "Well, shit."
Yves looks mildly confused, in a standard sort of way, while drinking his drink and not asking questions until Isa and Bast, the least information-volunteering officers of the crew, decide to volunteer information.
Owen looks at Celeste, who looks at Apoc, who shrugs and looks at Ivy, who looks at Shula, who levels daggers at the back of Linnet's head for a considerable amount of time.
"Don't look at me like that, Shula, I had barely more information than you did." Linnet hasn't turned her head. "I can feel you looking at me. You're going to set my hair on fire if you keep that up." "Might as well fill everyone in, I suppose." About half the drink follows that one.
Isa nods. "There's a plausible threat that the Captain's father is hostage to delivery of the blade," she summarizes, succinctly.
"Does all the mystery mean we need another heist?" asks Yves. "Because I'm not sure I can get the Meteor going any faster than it already does, but I can try. I'll need at least four days and a spotter and, hm, about six buckets of sand, minimum." Celeste's "shit" speaks for the present crew.
"Which means we either deliver as promised," Isa says, "or we need another plan."
"...maybe eight buckets of sand..."
"No kidding. And this is what I wanted to lay out before talking to the Blade. Thank you, though sweet south winds, it took nearly dying of overconfidence and blowing up half the docks district of Yinha in a riot before you'd even tell us what we were out here for? Someday, Bast, we are going to teach you to communicate, and may you never face a worse torture." Linnet flicks a very directed breeze at her captain that makes his pom spin in circles for about three seconds, then flop back to normal.
Owen collects everyone's empty glasses and sets about washing them. Bast raises the hand with the glass in it for a brief pause. "I had to find some things out myself after this landed in my lap. Before we run too far down this track, I...strongly suspect that the people behind that letter are, let's call it mistaken about who they have their hands on. But I'm not inclined to just drop this and let them do what they will, there."
"Right. So. Talk to the Blade, then plan around not handing it over and probably not outright murdering whoever's on the other end of that letter?"
"Scratch plausible, then," Isa mutters.
"I'm in favor of not having even non-father hostages murdered," Yves says, after a sip of his cocktail and some consideration. "That's part of my reformed ethical approach to a proper consideration of volition and value in all sentient beings. So, uh, heist regardless?" "Oh, I would have no objections to some outright murdering." Bast sets his empty glass down. "There are bounties on their heads, so that'd be a way to make this job pay after all."
"Mm. Well, I suppose that changes things. Bounties posted by whom?" asks the unusually pragmatic Linnet.
"Oh, it's the murder of hostages I was objecting to, not hostage-takers," Yves clarifies, "though if the two are the same, I'm... confused but willing to follow your lead."
"Triad government. That's where this crew works - extortion, kidnapping, some broken heads here and there. More lately, from what I've heard."
"And no, Yves, we're not taking or killing hostages."
"Not really sure if that's 'mild brain damage' or 'actual murder' level of head-breaking," Yves mutters to himself, and sidles vaguely in the direction of Apoc. "Do you have any opinions on asking what blades want to do? That's a really normal thing to ask of them, right? Right. I'm pretty sure it's normal, or should be. Even if the giant all-consuming void incident back during the heist was a little... you know, the sort of thing that can make a person wonder."
"Well, Bast, you have better friends now. And your better friends will be going along with you when it's time to tell your old friends that they're being mean and need to leave you alone." Linnet puts on her best Serious Face but can't hold it for more than two seconds.
"Yves, you should absolutely talk to the Blade. And anything else you want to talk to. Heck, talk to the whole haul, maybe something else we snaffled will have something to say."
Bast gives Linnet a thoroughly confused look. "...this sounds like 'friends' to you? I worry about you sometimes." That last might not be entirely serious either.
Bast hears them before anyone else does, but soon everyone can. Voices talking quietly, then bewildered mumbling, and then: Rahel: "Um, Linnet? Captain? Isa?" Eiri: "Did you build a vacation home?" Bast raises his voice to be heard outside: "We found it, Isa says we can't keep it."
Isa sighs. "I'll go deal with them," she says, and heads off to disappoint the arriving crew.
"We could keep it if we fought off the people who own it," Yves says brightly. "Maybe they're ghosts! That would explain their fashion sense!"
Linnet yells out to the arriving party, "You'd BETTER be in one piece! Each! I'll be right there!" "I'm sure they're fine, and haven't fought any ghosts, or they would have opened with that," Yves says soothingly, around two sips of his cocktail. He'll need a new one soon at this rate. "So, we have a story straight enough to be extremely candid with this blade, right?"
Linnet sighs. "Yves, honey, you're a terrible liar, so try to stick to straight questions."
"Yes," Yves says, convincingly, "I could never lie to anyone but cops anyway." A few moments later, the Frost Fair Blade sits on the table in front of Yves, chilling the air around it, the center of everyone's attention.
"So," says Yves. He wears the Speaker's mask, because there is a dress code for doing these things professionally. Also possibly a magical requirement. Professionalism, magical requirement... Comes to about the same thing, doesn't it? Right. "Hello! Can you hear me? Can I hear you? I'm told you're called the Frost Fair Blade, but what do you call yourself?"
The air shudders.
"You are the Speaker?" the Frost Fair Blade demands, its voice shining steel, a general's command booming through the mountains.
"I am now," Yves says carefully. Despite the two cocktails (and counting) in him, he holds himself straight, as solemn and professional as his lop ears could never be. "I hear you, and you hear me. My name is Yves Mjrwin. Call me Yves, or whatever you wish." “I am the Holy Emperor Who Subdues Demons in the Three Worlds."
"I am the Protector of the Country and Defender of the People."
A silhouette begins to form, a humanoid figure almost nine feet tall, standing before the Speaker.
"I am Bravery and Prestige."
"I am Loyalty and Righteousness."
He is clad in a long green robe, decorated with intricate gold thread and luxurious silken patterns.
(Off to the side, Bast starts counting quietly on his fingers.) Yves is, in fact, taking notes on these titles. Defender... people... Oh that's very tall. "It is my honor to meet you," he says in all sincerity, tilting his head back. "May I call you Loyalty? I'd like to ask your opinion on where your, ah, corporeal representation should be stored, for the indefinite future. Very nice robe, by the way." His beard is thick and dark, extending from his chin down past his belt, straight and shining, not a hint of tangle or frizz. The finest beard in the history of all of the worlds.
"I am the God of War."
The ghostly figure reaches down and picks up the Frost Fair Blade and holds it in one hand.
"I am Guan Yu." God... of war... Yves is definitely taking notes. "Guan Yu. Are you the blade, or is it your--well. Let's not be distracted by such details, unless you consider them necessary. I have introduced myself, and I am merely a viera, as so many people around me are merely themselves. And yet we aspire to more. And yet we aspire to give choice, options, to people such as you... even as we seek to protect your own. I have become the guardian, of a sort, of many of your kind, or at least those similar to you. Masks? I suppose I'll call them masks. We do our best to keep them safe--and to keep others safe from them, while we figure out the best, the most ethical way to resolve all this... confusion of states and positions and abilities and decisions and.... well. Of everything. It is a confusing time. I am sorry, but it is a confusing time. How do you see it, Guan Yu?"
(Linnet has nothing like Orrey's skill at sketching, but she's trying to capture at least a little of Guan Yu's costume on paper. For the joy of several of her friends, if not for any practical reason.)
His hand strokes his luxurious beard. "I serve the people, and I serve alongside my sworn brothers. I would never betray my brothers, and any who would betray my brothers I would see cast against the stones of a thousand cliffs, their bodies fit for the crows. Tell me. Who do you serve, and for what purpose do you fight?"
(Quietly, Linnet puts down her pen and places a supportive hand on Yves' shoulder, her expression one of solemn strength.) "Can you tell me who your brothers are, so that we can make sure we are not, unfortunately, by accident or fate, enemies?" Yves remains fully sincere, behind his mask. "We are the officers and crew of the Starfall, though it may have been called otherwise before. We seek to find and free the masked people who are being driven mad, bound, imprisoned, used by others. And yet we must protect our own. It's... complicated," he admits. "We try our best, with all the complexities of loyalties and ethics and what we can't predict about the future. We fight for a freedom for all. Eventually. Sometimes I worry about how there is no true freedom for all, how anyone one person, seeing a pebble on the ground, might want it to lie there, and another person want it to lie elsewhere. So much blood and pain comes from these differences in desire. And yet... We try."
"You fight for a just cause. As long as the cause remains so, I will stand by your side and my blade will cut down your enemies." Guan Yu stands taller, straighter, broader somehow. "Should your cause become one of chaos and impiety, should you cast aside your justice for greed and cruelty, I will see you fall."
"I would like that," Yves says. All lop-eared silver accents to black fur and black clothing. All deadly sincerity, as intense as any casual whim he ever had before he discovered the concept of ethics and realized it might apply to him. "Will you tell us, before you see us fall? Will you warn us of the corruption of our cause? I hope you will. I can only see so far. I am still... mortal and fallible. Complex and flawed, in the way of my kind. I do not think I would want to be as pure as you, but still, I would appreciate the warning."
(Linnet's smile has more than a touch of "this is maybe misplaced, but very sweet" to it.)
Guan Yu looks down at Yves with eyes burning like those of a crimson phoenix. "You will know. So long as your heart is open and your eyes unclouded, you will know." The wind blows cold through the abandoned resort, and when it stills, Guan Yu is gone.
The Frost Fair Blade remains. "I hope for an open heart and unclouded mind," Yves says, "but we mortals are made of water, as are clouds. But I will try and I will intend and...." The blade is a blade, again. Only a blade. More than a blade. "...and I will be mortal, still," he says, quietly. Not as wistfully as he might have, some time back. He has come to learn certain advantages to being mortal.
Bast looks like he has a handful of questions, but takes another look at Yves and remains silent.
Linnet takes the blade in one hand, Yves' hand in the other, crooks a smile at Bast, and leads them all to rejoin the crowd.
Our brave adventurers expected to find an untamed wilderness, and perhaps some living creatures unwilling to share, which is why Bast sent Celeste ahead with a small team to tame the wilderness for their arrival.
What they find, instead...
**
"...a resort?"
Celeste Meracydia stands in front of Isa and Yves, dressed in a sleeveless top, sun-blocking hat, tan pants sporting a multitude of pockets, and a sturdy pair of hiking boots. She is dressed for adventure. She is holding a small glass with something fizzy and green inside of it. "Uh," says Yves, blinking rapidly. Perhaps he has not yet come down from the adrenaline high of flinging lightning at two pursuing ships while attempting to properly thank Diabolos for service in times of mild (or moderate? he'll have to check the chart to be sure) crisis. "Was there a resort here before? Is that a thing? Do we have a privacy issue? Secrecy, I mean. That other thing ending in -cy that causes problems for not being caught by various angry parties after we've, let's say, re-distributed some items and their long-term locations." Isa has her hand up to her brow, to shade her eyes as she looks around. "So, when we said 'Celeste, we're going to need to lay low in Ba Nghìn Con Dao for a bit, go prep the site' you decided that meant..."
"...a party?" Bast gives the whole setup a quizzical look. "I take it things went well on your end." "Well, the plan was to put up tents and clear an area for a fire and make sure we had weather-proofing," Celeste says. She pauses to sip her drink. "But when we found the building and no one was here, we decided to leave the tents wrapped up."
"And... so you brought the bar out here, to make drinks, that makes sense," says Yves, in the tone of someone who has actually experienced many impromptu parties before, if usually involving more unusual and less legal substances than alcohol. "Sure. Okay! But. The. Uh? The. You know." He gestures uncertainly. Celeste gives Isa a bright, chipper smile. "It's very suspicious here," she says, sporting that dangerous adventurer's expression. "We've had a delightful time. Come in out of the sun, we'll give you the grand tour while you wait."
Isa gives Celeste a look that fully acknowledges the escapades of their past. "Let's get Meteor covered up first, in case they're searching from the air. Then the tour. And a drink."
"Probably the best order, but it could be coverage, explanation, drink, then tour." Yves clears his throat. "Hypothetically." The path from the clearing for Meteor's landing is hardly a path, just an area where the grass is slightly matted down more than anywhere else. Two shimmering green birds with hooked beaks and long talons watch the quintet as they navigate through the underbrush. An old stone bridge takes them over a ravine, a winding turn to the left goes behind a thin waterfall, and then they step into a small section of paradise. "Okay, yes," Yves says, pointing. "That is exactly what I was asking about." It is a single-story building of orange and green wood, surrounded by a wide porch with umbrellas over reclining deck chairs and beachside tables. A pool stretches ninety feet alongside the building, a bar built into the natural stone on one end. Another path, this one lined with gray and black stones, heads further up into the lush jungle. Sitting in one of the chairs under the umbrellas, with his ankles crossed, a book in his hands, and a bit of suncreen still wet on his nose, is Owen Moda.
"Shula and Ivy are... around," Celeste says with a wave of her non-drinking hand. "Ryna's inside, still. She wanted to be absolutely certain no one was here, but we've checked it for a solid three hours already. Owen was keeping track of the value of everything we're using so we can leave payment, but Shula told him he was stressing her out, so that's why he's out here instead."
"But how is the pool functional if no one was here when you arrived?" Yves demands. "Or is it not functional? It looks functional! I have questions! Like that one about the pool! Or about--wait, is Apoc here?"
Isa's squinting is not entirely due to the sun. "And there's no sign of ownership."
"Pool was filled," Celeste says. "But no one's here. Maybe they're traveling? It's weird. I can show you the weird, or I can show you the drinks. What'll it be?" She takes one look at Linnet's exhausted expression. "Drink for you, at least. Maybe plural. Maybe exponential plural."
"Drink first, weird second," Isa decides.
"We can get drinks and then drink them while being shown the weird," Yves says. "Win-win!"
Yves attempts to offer Isa a high-five, optimistically, over having the same answer to this question.
Isa doesn't leave Yves hanging. She's perturbed, not monstrous.
Celeste leads the group inside the resort.
Bast definitely feels the call of the drinks after the day they've had, but manages a "You go ahead, I need to reload a few things. In case anyone else shows up."
Yves gives Bast a thumbs up as he goes. It's great when friends reload! Or whatever. That defensive stuff that isn't magic. (Weird.) The decor inside the resort -- subdued colors but very ostentatious prints, emphasis on geometric shapes on the furniture, abstract art and statues that could maybe claim to be animal, vegetable, or mineral, depending on the angle one views it as -- is tremendously out of date, Yves notes, but is a very good representation of that particular style. Eighty years late, but done very tastefully.
"Plenty of alcohol when we arrived," Celeste says, "but nothing mixed or cold. Fortunately, Owen's got a natural talent in that department. I'll get him to get you something in just a minute."
"Alright," Isa says, "so we're definitely an occupying force."
"So it's pre-existing mysterious alcohol?" Yves asks, but in a way that does not even slightly imply this will keep him from drinking it. Celeste exits as Shula and Ivy enter from the halls. "Afternoon," Shula says. "This place is strange."
"But not the kind of strange where we're fighting someone fused into a wild monster through unethical experimentation that has gone even more wrong than it intended, just the kind of strange that gets us free mixed drinks and a nice pool, right?" Yves asks. It's good to check on that sort of thing.
"No, just the kind of resort that has twelve rooms and only one of them has a bed that's ever been slept in," Shula replies. Owen and Celeste return, and Owen heads behind the bar. He immediately starts on the typical Osler family cocktail with practiced ease.
Isa frowns a bit. "Yeah, that's strange. Any other stores besides liquor?" "But seriously," Yves says, lowering his voice as if it might keep Isa from hearing--which is not happening unless she's been struck deaf through completely coincidental means--"is Apoc here? Also, no bodies? No bodies is good. Except for when it's bad. Probably good, though. Not a lot of things kill people and leave NO trace, so it's probably really good."
"Food," Ivy says, then elaborates. "Healthy vegetable stock, plenty of fish on ice, large stockpile of non-perishables. Shula says that it wouldn't feed the Starfall for even a week, but it's good food. The vegetables are fresh."
"Apoc is here," Shula says. "We sent him on a circuit of the outer grounds one more time, just in case there were any pit traps."
"And how long ago did you arrive?" Isa asks, "because it sounds like someone could be back any minute."
"Not really in a salad mood," Yves says vaguely.
"Five hours," Ivy says.
Isa winces.
"None of the dishes are damp," Shula says, "and everything has long since been put away. Laundry is similarly empty; nothing waiting to be washed, nothing recently washed. The food is fresh, but nothing has been cooked in here in days, I could smell it if it has been."
"So as long as we don't stay longer than the ideal storage time for fresh fish," Yves says brightly, "we'll be fine!" "Shula," Isa asks politely, "do you have any vacation houses?"
"Everything is very clean," Owen says. The drink he hands Isa looks like it could firm up an off-kilter table. The drink he hands Yves looks like it could disintegrate an entire factory.
"Why would anyone have a--oh, right," Yves says.
Yves accepts that drink with delight, and has a mighty sip of it to test its disintegration capabilities.
"Nope," Shula answers.
Linnet gives Isa a weird look over a glass of something bright pink and frothy. Her shoes are discarded, her hair is halfway to unbraided, and she looks slightly less in danger of collapse than an hour ago. "Thank you, Owen." After a fortifying sip, Isa nods to Shula. "When you have a vacation home, and you want to use it, you don't want to waste time filling the larder or making the beds or chasing pigeons out of the eaves. But you also don't want to be distracted by having your people running around taking care of things while you're trying to get relaxed. So you send them in early to get ready, and then you arrive to a clean and well-prepared retreat, all set to get away from the world." She looks around again. "And it'd look quite a bit like this."
Yves, who has had three large gulps of his drink, sighs. "Does this mean we have to pack up and go before, like, debriefing or anything?"
"We can probably manage the debrief, but don't plan to camp for the weekend. Deferring to your expertise, of course." Linnet with her hair almost fully unbraided looks even smaller; that is a lot of hair for one sylph.
"Whoever lives here, they haven't done any redecorating in a while," Yves says critically, and gulps down the rest of his drink. "Anyway!" The door closest to the pool opens, and Apocynthion comes in, dressed very similarly to Celeste. Bast gets a salute and a "Captain," Yves gets a charming grin and a "Hey." Linnet gets a wave approaching friendly, but there remains stiffness and distance. Isa gets a nod without eye contact so he can once again be removed from her immediate universe.
"Heyyy," Yves says, holding out his empty glass in the direction he last remembers Owen standing.
"No pit traps," he says to Shula, who almost looks disappointed. "There is a hot spring."
Anyone watching Isa's face might catch a moment of pained wistfulness at Apoc's final two words, but she covers it with another drink. "We'll need to make our stay as short and as non-disruptive as possible. If worse comes to worst I will do my best formal apologizing."
"There is also what might be a graveyard," Apoc adds. "A collection of shrines or monuments, perhaps? Not enough room for burial plots, at the very least. I steered clear."
"And we'd better keep our quarry fairly under wraps," continues Linnet, absently ignoring Apoc. "Speaking of which, Bast, I assume this is nowhere near where we're supposed to be, uh, handing it off?"
"That's in the Triad," Bast quietly replies while tightening some sort of spring temporarily revealed by his rolled-up sleeve. "I guess people with vacation resorts on private islands aren't very with it when it comes to decorating," Yves says. "...also, uh, we should definitely talk to it? Before we do anything else? Just in case it has opinions about how it ends up, how did we put it, re-distributed in its long-term location plans?"
"Talk to what now?" Isa asks.
"The knife? Sword, spear, uh, blade. Thing. Don't remember the exact categorization. Just in case? Didn't really do an inventory, so if there's anything else that needs a chat before final distribution, now's the time to mention it, but, uh, you know." Yves makes a distinctly awkward gesture. "Gotta respect the, uh, you know. Consent. Of things. That have the ability to give or retract it. Just in case. Gotta check. You know. Just in case. That the case. Might be. That things have opinions on things. As they sometimes do. Because not all things are... things?" He waves his empty glass about in case this will somehow resolve his explanation.
"I suggest, Yves, that we lay out a few details on our end before we talk to the Blade, so that we have as many reasons as possible to swear all at once, rather than successive crises." Linnet knocks back about half her cocktail in one gulp. "We don't tell it what our plans are, but we get our story straight before we open a channel of communication, so that we have as much as possible to plan around as soon as possible." She gives Bast a hard stare while manipulating a narrow breeze to twist her hair into a complicated knot around two very large and pointy sticks.
"I just wanted to ask what it wanted," Yves says, bewildered. "What kind of story needs to be straight there?"
Owen refills Yves's glass, to Celeste's entirely unnoticed chagrin.
"Yves, I'd like to open up to the Blade asking what it wants while also knowing what we, the crew, have committed to. Without telling it, of course, but I want us to end communication with the Blade and then go 'well, how do we plan around this,' rather than having our wonderful planner spring it on us." Linnet tightens the sticks in her hair with a shove. "For all we know, 'release it into enemy territory so it can wreak havoc' might be an appealing plan."
"I mean, if it wants that..." Yves sips his new drink, with a bright smile to share between Owen and Apoc, in unequal distribution across the affected parties. Bast pauses in the middle of mixing up some unholy concoction. "Well, I don't think we're handing it off. What we tell it about how we came by it...hm." He swirls the drink in his glass, green and orange partially blending together. "I'd guess it's not too charitably inclined towards the Seventh Dawn given how they see their masks, might be worth leaning on that."
"And how are you planning to deal with your contact, in that case?" demands Linnet.
"We can just steal their, uh, I mean, re-distribute their..." Yves has a sip while he tries to think this through to its conclusion. "I'm sure we'll come up with something."
"The contact we have made a very serious enemy in order to mollify," Isa points out.
"Oh, I'd still meet with them." Bast takes a sip of his drink, makes a face, and starts going through the bottles for something to complement the bitter concoction he's got.
"Yeah, but the Seventh Dawn was, despite that one really nice person in all the armor who I still think fondly of, still sort of..." Yves makes an obscene gesture. "...already, you know? So that was inevitable. Right? And anyway they're probably not sure it was us. We have that whole good decoy team doing their thing, and all that. I bet they've done an amazing job of pretending to be us while we were there." "Why did we do this heist?" Owen asks innocently.
Bast pauses with his hand on a dark green bottle for a long breath, then pulls a letter out of his coat and slides it down the bar towards Isa.
Celeste leans against the bar next to Owen, watching the captain curiously.
"I would say 'to rescue an innocent bladed weapon that needed rescuing, and also stick it to those jerks,' but that's probably not accurate," Yves says with all earnestness to Owen. "That may be my core reason, but I would've helped everyone regardless. It's the whole 'part of a crew' thing. Like being partners in a lab, but with, one hopes, fewer ethically dubious choices!"
Isa lifts an eyebrow, then sets her drink down and picks up the letter.
"He's very big on the dark and mysterious bit. But we'll sort it out soon and figure out whose day needs saving," Linnet tells Owen with a confidence she doesn't feel.
That might almost be a smile on Bast's face in response to Linnet, but it promptly hides behind another sip of his drink.
Bast, There is a sword you need to find for me. The Frost Fair Blade. Bring it to the Triad by the end of the month, and I'll make a trade with you for the one thing you've never been able to find on your own. I know where your father is. I know your little spy can track the Blade down. End of the month. Disappoint me, and you might find that information all over the Dicelan Sea. R
Isa scans the letter, folds it back up. Rather than sharing the contents, she asks Bast, "I take it the information being referred to at the end isn't the same as the information being offered as payment?"
"The end's about the middle. Wouldn't be the first time he's made someone disappear that way." Bast isn't looking anyone in the eye.
"Oh. 'Information' was a euphemism." Isa frowns. "Well, shit."
Yves looks mildly confused, in a standard sort of way, while drinking his drink and not asking questions until Isa and Bast, the least information-volunteering officers of the crew, decide to volunteer information.
Owen looks at Celeste, who looks at Apoc, who shrugs and looks at Ivy, who looks at Shula, who levels daggers at the back of Linnet's head for a considerable amount of time.
"Don't look at me like that, Shula, I had barely more information than you did." Linnet hasn't turned her head. "I can feel you looking at me. You're going to set my hair on fire if you keep that up." "Might as well fill everyone in, I suppose." About half the drink follows that one.
Isa nods. "There's a plausible threat that the Captain's father is hostage to delivery of the blade," she summarizes, succinctly.
"Does all the mystery mean we need another heist?" asks Yves. "Because I'm not sure I can get the Meteor going any faster than it already does, but I can try. I'll need at least four days and a spotter and, hm, about six buckets of sand, minimum." Celeste's "shit" speaks for the present crew.
"Which means we either deliver as promised," Isa says, "or we need another plan."
"...maybe eight buckets of sand..."
"No kidding. And this is what I wanted to lay out before talking to the Blade. Thank you, though sweet south winds, it took nearly dying of overconfidence and blowing up half the docks district of Yinha in a riot before you'd even tell us what we were out here for? Someday, Bast, we are going to teach you to communicate, and may you never face a worse torture." Linnet flicks a very directed breeze at her captain that makes his pom spin in circles for about three seconds, then flop back to normal.
Owen collects everyone's empty glasses and sets about washing them. Bast raises the hand with the glass in it for a brief pause. "I had to find some things out myself after this landed in my lap. Before we run too far down this track, I...strongly suspect that the people behind that letter are, let's call it mistaken about who they have their hands on. But I'm not inclined to just drop this and let them do what they will, there."
"Right. So. Talk to the Blade, then plan around not handing it over and probably not outright murdering whoever's on the other end of that letter?"
"Scratch plausible, then," Isa mutters.
"I'm in favor of not having even non-father hostages murdered," Yves says, after a sip of his cocktail and some consideration. "That's part of my reformed ethical approach to a proper consideration of volition and value in all sentient beings. So, uh, heist regardless?" "Oh, I would have no objections to some outright murdering." Bast sets his empty glass down. "There are bounties on their heads, so that'd be a way to make this job pay after all."
"Mm. Well, I suppose that changes things. Bounties posted by whom?" asks the unusually pragmatic Linnet.
"Oh, it's the murder of hostages I was objecting to, not hostage-takers," Yves clarifies, "though if the two are the same, I'm... confused but willing to follow your lead."
"Triad government. That's where this crew works - extortion, kidnapping, some broken heads here and there. More lately, from what I've heard."
"And no, Yves, we're not taking or killing hostages."
"Not really sure if that's 'mild brain damage' or 'actual murder' level of head-breaking," Yves mutters to himself, and sidles vaguely in the direction of Apoc. "Do you have any opinions on asking what blades want to do? That's a really normal thing to ask of them, right? Right. I'm pretty sure it's normal, or should be. Even if the giant all-consuming void incident back during the heist was a little... you know, the sort of thing that can make a person wonder."
"Well, Bast, you have better friends now. And your better friends will be going along with you when it's time to tell your old friends that they're being mean and need to leave you alone." Linnet puts on her best Serious Face but can't hold it for more than two seconds.
"Yves, you should absolutely talk to the Blade. And anything else you want to talk to. Heck, talk to the whole haul, maybe something else we snaffled will have something to say."
Bast gives Linnet a thoroughly confused look. "...this sounds like 'friends' to you? I worry about you sometimes." That last might not be entirely serious either.
Bast hears them before anyone else does, but soon everyone can. Voices talking quietly, then bewildered mumbling, and then: Rahel: "Um, Linnet? Captain? Isa?" Eiri: "Did you build a vacation home?" Bast raises his voice to be heard outside: "We found it, Isa says we can't keep it."
Isa sighs. "I'll go deal with them," she says, and heads off to disappoint the arriving crew.
"We could keep it if we fought off the people who own it," Yves says brightly. "Maybe they're ghosts! That would explain their fashion sense!"
Linnet yells out to the arriving party, "You'd BETTER be in one piece! Each! I'll be right there!" "I'm sure they're fine, and haven't fought any ghosts, or they would have opened with that," Yves says soothingly, around two sips of his cocktail. He'll need a new one soon at this rate. "So, we have a story straight enough to be extremely candid with this blade, right?"
Linnet sighs. "Yves, honey, you're a terrible liar, so try to stick to straight questions."
"Yes," Yves says, convincingly, "I could never lie to anyone but cops anyway." A few moments later, the Frost Fair Blade sits on the table in front of Yves, chilling the air around it, the center of everyone's attention.
"So," says Yves. He wears the Speaker's mask, because there is a dress code for doing these things professionally. Also possibly a magical requirement. Professionalism, magical requirement... Comes to about the same thing, doesn't it? Right. "Hello! Can you hear me? Can I hear you? I'm told you're called the Frost Fair Blade, but what do you call yourself?"
The air shudders.
"You are the Speaker?" the Frost Fair Blade demands, its voice shining steel, a general's command booming through the mountains.
"I am now," Yves says carefully. Despite the two cocktails (and counting) in him, he holds himself straight, as solemn and professional as his lop ears could never be. "I hear you, and you hear me. My name is Yves Mjrwin. Call me Yves, or whatever you wish." “I am the Holy Emperor Who Subdues Demons in the Three Worlds."
"I am the Protector of the Country and Defender of the People."
A silhouette begins to form, a humanoid figure almost nine feet tall, standing before the Speaker.
"I am Bravery and Prestige."
"I am Loyalty and Righteousness."
He is clad in a long green robe, decorated with intricate gold thread and luxurious silken patterns.
(Off to the side, Bast starts counting quietly on his fingers.) Yves is, in fact, taking notes on these titles. Defender... people... Oh that's very tall. "It is my honor to meet you," he says in all sincerity, tilting his head back. "May I call you Loyalty? I'd like to ask your opinion on where your, ah, corporeal representation should be stored, for the indefinite future. Very nice robe, by the way." His beard is thick and dark, extending from his chin down past his belt, straight and shining, not a hint of tangle or frizz. The finest beard in the history of all of the worlds.
"I am the God of War."
The ghostly figure reaches down and picks up the Frost Fair Blade and holds it in one hand.
"I am Guan Yu." God... of war... Yves is definitely taking notes. "Guan Yu. Are you the blade, or is it your--well. Let's not be distracted by such details, unless you consider them necessary. I have introduced myself, and I am merely a viera, as so many people around me are merely themselves. And yet we aspire to more. And yet we aspire to give choice, options, to people such as you... even as we seek to protect your own. I have become the guardian, of a sort, of many of your kind, or at least those similar to you. Masks? I suppose I'll call them masks. We do our best to keep them safe--and to keep others safe from them, while we figure out the best, the most ethical way to resolve all this... confusion of states and positions and abilities and decisions and.... well. Of everything. It is a confusing time. I am sorry, but it is a confusing time. How do you see it, Guan Yu?"
(Linnet has nothing like Orrey's skill at sketching, but she's trying to capture at least a little of Guan Yu's costume on paper. For the joy of several of her friends, if not for any practical reason.)
His hand strokes his luxurious beard. "I serve the people, and I serve alongside my sworn brothers. I would never betray my brothers, and any who would betray my brothers I would see cast against the stones of a thousand cliffs, their bodies fit for the crows. Tell me. Who do you serve, and for what purpose do you fight?"
(Quietly, Linnet puts down her pen and places a supportive hand on Yves' shoulder, her expression one of solemn strength.) "Can you tell me who your brothers are, so that we can make sure we are not, unfortunately, by accident or fate, enemies?" Yves remains fully sincere, behind his mask. "We are the officers and crew of the Starfall, though it may have been called otherwise before. We seek to find and free the masked people who are being driven mad, bound, imprisoned, used by others. And yet we must protect our own. It's... complicated," he admits. "We try our best, with all the complexities of loyalties and ethics and what we can't predict about the future. We fight for a freedom for all. Eventually. Sometimes I worry about how there is no true freedom for all, how anyone one person, seeing a pebble on the ground, might want it to lie there, and another person want it to lie elsewhere. So much blood and pain comes from these differences in desire. And yet... We try."
"You fight for a just cause. As long as the cause remains so, I will stand by your side and my blade will cut down your enemies." Guan Yu stands taller, straighter, broader somehow. "Should your cause become one of chaos and impiety, should you cast aside your justice for greed and cruelty, I will see you fall."
"I would like that," Yves says. All lop-eared silver accents to black fur and black clothing. All deadly sincerity, as intense as any casual whim he ever had before he discovered the concept of ethics and realized it might apply to him. "Will you tell us, before you see us fall? Will you warn us of the corruption of our cause? I hope you will. I can only see so far. I am still... mortal and fallible. Complex and flawed, in the way of my kind. I do not think I would want to be as pure as you, but still, I would appreciate the warning."
(Linnet's smile has more than a touch of "this is maybe misplaced, but very sweet" to it.)
Guan Yu looks down at Yves with eyes burning like those of a crimson phoenix. "You will know. So long as your heart is open and your eyes unclouded, you will know." The wind blows cold through the abandoned resort, and when it stills, Guan Yu is gone.
The Frost Fair Blade remains. "I hope for an open heart and unclouded mind," Yves says, "but we mortals are made of water, as are clouds. But I will try and I will intend and...." The blade is a blade, again. Only a blade. More than a blade. "...and I will be mortal, still," he says, quietly. Not as wistfully as he might have, some time back. He has come to learn certain advantages to being mortal.
Bast looks like he has a handful of questions, but takes another look at Yves and remains silent.
Linnet takes the blade in one hand, Yves' hand in the other, crooks a smile at Bast, and leads them all to rejoin the crowd.
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