The Fotsu Delegation (fot-su)

Gokrenxia    Prose    Tales of the Inner Council    Short-Stories      The Fotsu Delegation

Background

In the 57th year of the Second Age, King Ga'jam Ch'luun, the second king of Vath'azen passed away, allegedy of natural causes. He had no heirs and left no direction as to who should rule the fledgling nation of the Kynekin. Thus the decision was left to his most trusted, hand-picked inner council. Davu Pa'lakh was one of the four core members of that council.

In Vyrian Dreams

by dream by WOMBO

Every window of the modest cottage glowed a warm, inviting yellow on the bank of an unfamiliar, bubbling river. The short-angled shadows of the trees led Davu Pa'lakh, Grand Marshall of the Kingdom of Vath'azen to believe it was roughly past midday. A light breeze carrying upon it the sweet scent of purple wildflowers tickled the whiskers to either side of his deep orange and white snout, causing the muscles of his face to twitch subtly. The air was alive with an expectant energy coaxing the fur down his back to stand on end. He was slightly light-headed and exhaled slowly to push down the intoxicating sensation fogging his mind, though he knew from past experience it was little use. Being in her presence always challenged Davu’s willpower and focus, two items of personal strength on which he routinely prided himself.
“She” was the Lady Tembryan, The Purple Lady, and a Celestial; a powerful being who exists beyond the realm of Gokrenxia, directing her devotees, like Davu, to her own cryptic ends. Similar to tales he'd heard about others interactions with Celestials, Lady Tembryan always summoned him through his dreams.
Her angry scream broke the quiet, destroying the prevailing calm, followed by the sound of shattering glass. Even filled with rage, her melodic tone was unmistakable. A wave of terror and pain ripped through Davu's heart. He reached for his blades, but found the scabbards hanging from either hip empty.
Cursing under his breath, Davu raced forward, trampling the soft grass as he closed the short distance to the cottage. He took the low stairs in two long strides and launched off his back foot, colliding shoulder first into the wooden door. He stumbled into the room, steeling himself to face whatever or whomever he found.
Her head whipped up from where she stood over a thick wooden table, long strands of her teal-colored bangs falling across the porcelain skin of her heart-shaped face. Her chest heaved in anger. Her jaw clenched. Her lilac eyes, filled with hatred, locked with his.
"You!"
The word crashed into him, carrying a wave of disdain that froze him in place. Unable to speak. Unable to move. Barely able to breath. It was as if time had suddenly stopped in that single, agonizing moment.
She rounded the table slowly, the fabric of her dark lavender gown swishing against the otherwise dreadful silence. Stepping over a shattered teacup on the floor, she drew closer. The overwhelming weight of her disapproval forcing him to look away.
"While you've been busy playing at Kingmaker, something dear to me has been taken. You, will right this for me. Now listen to me very carefully."
She leaned in, her lips but an exhilarating breath away from his ear. The heady scents of lavender and lemon fogged his mind, making it impossible to imagine there had ever been, or would ever be, any moment other than this. The warm breath of her whispers laid out the terrible task that was his to perform.

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What follows is an Ironsworn RPG solo session. My notes will generally be captured in the form of: action: six-sider/ten-sider/ten-sider-result(Strong, Weak, Miss)-Effect

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Setting: Hideout.
Weather: Moderate with a light wind.
Tembryan's demeanor: capricious, designer, tidy
Devotant Secure Adv +iron: 8/7/9-W-+2M
Swear an Iron Vow +heart 5/5/10-M--2M
Devotant II (reroll): 9/5/8-S-+2M
Dangerous Vow: 0/10

Dawn in Stoverj

by dream by WOMBO

Davu woke to the sound of glintgulls squawking over the harbor as the first light of dawn poured through his bedroom windows, driving away the darkness. His stared up at the ceiling, a numb ache in his heart. It was always the same. Every time. Being sent away from her presence always left him feeling empty, like a part of him was left in the place of dreams. The waking world felt dull and hollow in comparison, lacking luster.
He stared up at the dusty ceiling rafters, taking deliberate, steadying breaths as he mentally recounted the task set before him. Confident he'd committed it to memory, Davu rose and began to dress. Pulling on his brown trousers and boots, his glance lingered a moment too long on his heavy armor, calling to mind her disapproving whisper.
"Prove to me you are still worthy of my favor."
He looked away, donning some light armor, a faded blue tunic, and finally his sword belt.
Leaving the house, he was largely oblivious to the early morning hustle and bustle of docks. His feet carried him a familiar path to the stable and Sa'vaad, his trusted mount.
From his stall, Sa'vaad snorted, lifting his brownish-red head and flicking his long black tail in excitement as he caught the scent of Davu's approach. The young stable-hand, one of the bird people known as the Shar'elum, jumped to his feet with a start.
"G-good morning Grand Marshall," he began nervously, practically tripping over himself as he rushed to retrieve Sa'vaad from his stall.
Davu forced a polite smile and nodded his head slightly.
"Good morning Tugu."
After quickly and carefully placing Sa'vaad's saddle pad, the boy struggled slightly before lifting a saddle from its resting place above his head. Davu waited patiently, lost in his own thoughts, while Tugu prepared his mount.
"Sir?" questioned Tugu. It was only then the Grand Marshall realized the boy was staring at him, his brown-feathered head cocked to one side inquisitively.
"I'm sorry. What was that?"
"Oh! Ummm. I was...uh... asking if you're going somewhere different today."
One of Davu's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Why do you ask?"
"Oh. Well. Normally today y-you go to the training grounds first and train with your men." Tugu swallowed hard, hoping he hadn't overstepped.
Davu considered the boy's comment, smiled, and nodded his head in satisfaction. "You know my routines better than I, Tugu. Good job."
The boy stood a little taller, beaming with pride at the Grand Marshall's rarely given praise. Davu crossed the dirt floor and mounted Sa'vaad with practiced ease.
"In fact, I am." He fished a silver coin from his coin purse. "Do you know Yahri?"
"Oh," Tugu replied excitedly. "Lord Negdahe? The Chief Diplomat? Of course sir."
"Good, then I have a task for you. Shortly after the market opens, I will need you to find him and let him know I have a personal matter to attend to and will not be present at today's Council meeting. I trust you can do this?"
The muscles at the back of Tugu's grayish-black beak curved up in excitement. "Oh yes. Yes. Of course I can."
"Good. Then do so." The metal flick of the coin rang as it sailed through the air and into the stablehand's clutches. If Tugu said anything else, Davu missed it as he spurred Sa'vaad's muscular form out into the streets of the waking Stoverj.
At this time of the morning, the cobblestone streets were still, with the exception of vendors setting up their wares for the day; herbs and spices for sale here, clothing there, now wildflowers. He wondered if they had any thistle, and whether the purple flower would smell as sweet as it did in his dreams.
They took the low-lying East road that ran parallel to the harbor through several city districts. The sky was free of clouds, causing Davu to squint his eyes as they rode toward the rising sun. It was likely to be a very warm day. He smirked to himself at the ironic blessing of not wearing his full suit of armor.
Davu could feel Sa’vaad’s excitement building as they neared the edge of the city proper. Sa’vaad lived to run, to feel the thunder of his hooves against the ground and the rush of wind through his mane. He loved the freedom that came with the open road. The two were kindred spirits in this way.

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...

The Fotsu Encampment

Sa'vaad knew the drill. As they passed the last few buildings on the city outskirts, he broke into a full gallop. Davu let him run for several minutes before reigning him back to a steady cantor, keeping him from fatiguing too soon. They followed the well-traveled trade route as it wound its way East through a slowly thickening forest for a half dozen miles before breaking off the main trail and turning North.

by Koragath via Armoria

It was still early in the day when they crested a hill to find the small encampment. Davu's breath caught for a moment, as he made out the gold and grey banners of the Fotsu tribe, exactly as Lady Tembryan had said. The Fotsu were quintessential examples of the arrogant and prideful Ja'nakh horse people who roamed the Zuul’Hy Freelands. The only way to tackle her task was head on.
He spurred Sa'vaad into a hard gallop down the hill, racing toward the two guards lazily sitting at the camp's fringe. He was practically on top of them before they jumped up, startled and grabbing for their spears. They yelled for him to stop, but were too slow. Sa'vaad snorted, almost laughing at the notion as they sped passed. Tent flaps began to flip open behind him as barely clothed, sluggish warriors roused from their slumber.
Davu raced into the center of the camp. Sa'vaad reared high and neighed in irritation as Davu reigned him to a stop.
"Travelers of the Fotsu tribe," Davu yelled with the practiced authority of one who commands armies. Sa'vaad turned in a tight, slow circle, his long black tail swishing side to side in anticipation as Davu surveyed the quickly growing crowd. "I am Davu Pa'lakh, Vyrian Grand Marshall of Vath'azen. Who leads this delegation?"
Quiet murmurs and whispers spread across the group. Davu took note as several of the members poorly attempted to inconspicuously back away from the edges of the group at the mention of his name and title. He counted roughly a dozen troops still close at hand.

An'nivo of the Fotsu Tribe by dream by WOMBO

After several tense moments, a muscular Ja'nakh warrior adorned in grey and gold slowly emerged from a larger tent facing the encampment's center. A golden trinket of some kind was set in his forehead. It glinted in the morning son, perfectly bisecting the white stripe running from the red hair of his foremane to his nose.
Holding his spear between both hands, he stretched his arms high above his head and yawned nonchalantly. His people parted, creating a direct path to the Grand Marshall and his mount.
Davu stifled a smirk at the pomp and circumstance the Ja'nakh leader made in an to attempt to calm his troops and regain control of the situation, or at least put them on more equal footing. The Ja'nakh took slow, but deliberate steps forward as he began to speak in a calm and even tone.
"Grand Marshall," he bowed his head just slightly to one side. Had Davu paid more attention to his studies growing up, he would have known in Ja'nakh culture the gesture was enough to convey politeness, but not deep enough to convey respect or deference. While Davu was unaware, the leader's watchful troops were not.
"The advance notice of your arrival must have gotten lost. But I, An'nivo of the Fotsu tribe, will overlook this offense. What brings you to our camp Davu Pa'lakh?" An'nivo sized up Davu with a trained warrior's eye. He angled slightly right as he approached, undoubtedly hoping to place himself on Davu's off-hand should things sour.
Davu dismounted Sa'vaad to meet the towering warrior, who stood almost three hands taller. He projected his voice in the hopes that all who were gathered could hear. "An'nivo of the Fotsu Tribe, your delegation recently passed through the village of Allmaskad, did it not?"
An'nivo huffed sharply at the question, but retained an even-keeled yet condescending tone. "We cannot possibly remember all the names of your Vath hovels. We passed through many places on the way to Stoverj. You will have to be more specific."
Davu felt the fur along the back of his neck begin to rise, along with his temper. "Yesterday evening," he replied through clenched teeth and slowly surveyed the crowd. "Your... delegation... passed through a village."
"We did," An'nivo nodded, the red hairs of his foremane flipping forward, then back.
"Some of your troops fed at a tavern there," Davu continued. "There was a young Mankaii woman, a musician of some talent." There were murmurs and stirring in the crowd. Davu continued.
"So you say," An'nivo replied curtly.
"Several from your delegation forced themselves upon her and must be called to account for their actions."
The silence hung for several breaths. Davu could read no hint of emotion in An'nivo's bulging, black eyes as he calculated his response.
"Even if such a thing did occur," An'nivo began, "by the Zuul'Hy code, a warrior may take whatever his strength can hold."
"We're not in Zuul'Hy," Davu retorted, "Vath'azen law applies to these lands, and all peoples in it."
An'nivo's gaze flicked quickly up the sloped path from where Davu had approached and back. His eyed narrowed. "And you bring proof? Evidence of some law that has been broken? A witness, perhaps?"
Davu shook his head slowly, with intent. He struggled to force down his anger. "I am the Grand Marshall of Vath'azen, my word is proof enough."
An'nivo smiled triumphantly and looked to his troops, knowing he'd won the debate. "Friends," he bellowed, "you have heard the Grand Marshall's accusations. Did anyone see any such violations of Vath law in the village of... What was it?" He paused, looking to Davu with a raised eyebrow.
"Allmaskad," Davu growled.
"...Allmaskad," he repeated. The murmurs of the crowd started once again. If they made any response at all, it was simply to shake their heads in denial. An'nivo turned back to Davu with a smug grin.
"Grand Marshall, it seems your information is wrong. As we desire no quarrel with Stoverj, we will overlook this second offense and allow you to leave unscathed." The two locked eyes and the growing humidity in the air only served to add to the thick tension hanging in the air.
Davu turned and strode back toward his steed but stopped several steps short. The Fotsu delegation watched on in great interest as he slowly drew his longsword and stuck it into the ground. Taking another step, he drew his dagger and plunged it to into the ground, but in the tip of his sword's shadow. He turned his back to An'nivo and withdrew a gold and purple medallion from under his tunic, holding it up for all to see.

by dream by WOMBO

"Hear me people of the Fotsu tribe! As the Knight of the Purple Thorn, the Lady Tembryan has demanded vengeance for defiling one of her followers. When the shadow of my sword breaks from the dagger, so too shall the peace and safety of your camp. You have until that time to present me with the criminal..." He turned to An'nivo. "...or I shall hold ALL of you accountable."
The myths surrounding Lady Tembryan were well known, even in the plains of Zuul'Hy. It was said the Purple Lady, the Lady of Chaos, if you choose to believe the Elves, only selects one follower of any given domain, who she determined to be the land's most skilled at their particular craft. They were precious to her, favored, and generally considered untouchable. If Davu's claims were true, the Fotsu delegation had drawn the ire of a Celestial, and the Purple Lady had sent the most skilled swordfighter in the land to exact retribution.
"How dare you," An'nivo screamed. He let forth a guttural battle cry and rushed forward, spear outstretched. Davu lunged forward, coming up with both his weapons as An'nivo over-committed to his charge. Davu turned his body slightly, reducing his exposure and slid the flat of his sword easily down the shaft of the spear, deflecting its point to his right, and away from his body. Flowing with the turn, he brought his dagger down, slicing the upper muscles of his opponent's spear arm.
An'nivo stumbled to a stop, calling out through clenched teeth. "Kill this Vyrian dog!"
With a glance from Davu, who flourished his blades and settled into a fighting stance, his trusted steed pushed a path through the approaching Ja'nakh warriors and away from the encampment.
Knowing he couldn't afford to allow them to surround him completely, Davu maneuvered left, engaging the closest combatants. Deadly curved Ja'nakh blades sang their song of metal on metal as Davu parried strikes from the one side, then the other. He reversed the grip on his dagger as he stepped between and past them, jamming the short blade into the neck of one, then dropping and spinning with a deep slash from his long blade across the stomach of the other.
The next few warriors captured their injured brethren as they fell and pulled them from the battle while the remainder pressed in. Davu glanced over his shoulder, checking the terrain behind and, much to the Fotsu warriors' surprise, launched into the fray, his two blades dancing in a beautiful flurry of carnage and mayhem.
Yet the Ja'nakh are a fierce and proud people, not to be deterred. An'nivo took command of his men. Their training set in. Their strikes became vastly more focused and coordinated. An unexpected club slipped under his left guard and brought a sharp crack in his ribs. Searing pain accompanied Davu's every breath. A shallow slash to his upper right leg slowed his ability to pivot and left him favoring his left, ever so slightly.
Davu dug deep, but the warriors could sense the tide had turned, bringing a renewed frenzy to their merciless assault, with An'nivo of the Fotsu Tribe at its head. Davu masterfully parried a series of strikes from the Ja'nakh fighters, but a well timed thrust from An'nivo's spear snuck over his right guard and deeply pierced the flesh just above his collarbone. His longsword fell to the blood-soaked forest floor and he cried out, unable to mentally suppress the pain. Inches higher and it could have been a fatal strike to his neck. A moment of fear brought Davu to the sudden realization that he may not survive this battle.
He grabbed the short spear with his right hand and spun himself clockwise, using the excruciatingly painful momentum to drive his dagger upward and into the soft flesh under An'nivo's long horse snout with every ounce of his remaining strength. The dagger spiked upward through the top of An'nivo's face, blood spraying into the air. With dagger and spear, Davu spun the the fierce adversary so his back was to his own remaining warriors. Their ferocious strikes at Davu were already committed, denying them the opportunity to turn away before striking An'nivo from behind.
They paused for but a moment, stunned at the sudden shift in momentum. Davu weakly pushed An'nivo into the two remaining warriors and followed their confusion with a series of rapid puncturing knife attacks to the lungs which left them both unable to breath and falling slowly to the ground.
Davu surveyed the carnage around him and whistled for Sa'vaad to return. His head swam with pain as the andrenaline began to wane.
"My Lady Tembryan," he prayed silently. "Your will is done."
The battle against the Fotsu was over, and yet the war for Davu Pa'lakh's heart and soul still hung in the balance.

The End

CW: Violence

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Fearless charge, Secure Advantage (+heart): 7/1/1-S-Crit!-+1M
Oracle: Initiate Shelter (+1Harm, +Init)
Dangerous Vow: 2/10

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Make an Argument (+wits): 6/2/6-W--Init
Settlement Name: A landscape feature.
Rebuttal (+wits): 5/4/9-W-+init
Make an Argument (+wits): 5/3/9-W-Init
Rebuttal (+wits): 5/8/5-M-Pay the Price
Duelist I Clash (+iron): 6/2/5-S-+Init +1Harm +1M
Dangerous Vow: 4/10
Strike (+iron): 7/1/5-S-+1H
Dangerous Vow: 6/10
Strike (+iron): 6/3/10-W-+1H -Init
Dangerous Vow: 8/10
Deulist I Clash (+iron): 9/1/10-W(Miss)
Pay the Price: - Endure Harm Health-2 - (+iron): 5/8/9-M--1 Momentum
Deulist I Clash (+iron): 5/5/10-M
Pay the Price: - Endure Harm Health-2 - (+iron): 6/4/10-W Press on.
Duelist I Clash (+iron): 11/2/4-S-+2H
Dangerous Vow: 12/10!