absimiliard
Posts: 759
6/20/2016
|
Fallen London is © 2015 and ™ Failbetter Games Limited: www.fallenlondon.com. This is an unofficial fan work. All rights in this work are ceded to Failbetter Games.
Hi everyone, please don't interfere until the end, this is collaborative, so that might take a bit. It'll be clear when it resolves.
--------------------
In the depths of Bugsby's Marshes a desperate group gathers. Three Londoners, a squad of warriors from the Isle of Cats, and one Huntsman -- yes, Her. Of the Londoners there is one woman, one man, and one person of an indistinct gender; Phryne, Mathieu, and Absimiliard.
The Curious Captain stands straight, if not tall. They have dressed in their uniform, in a nearly-black shade of irrigo. In one hand a small mirror, backed in snake-skin, and a sword in the other hand. They have a kit-bag slung cross-wise on their back. At their neck a Golden Apple pin, and on their spider-chitin gauntlets a golden wedding band gleams. Their demeanor is grim, determined, and unyielding.
"I fear it is a truism that no plan will survive contact with the enemy, so here is what we have Mathieu. Phryne and I stand ready to journey to Parabola. We know the Chromium Throne would be at .. . . no, it is at the ancient Temple at the border of the Smoking Coast, the Hanging Mountains, and the Waswood. The Huntsman," Absimiliard nods towards a leopard-masked figure, "will bring us near the Throne. She will try to keep a way open for us to return. You and the Serpent Cutters must protect her." the Captain nods to the warriors from the Isle of Cats. "She can not directly oppose the Fingerkings, if she does they can replace her immediately, and that is what we must prevent."
Absimiliard sighs deeply, their face upset, "Phryne and I must stop Vavakx from joining with the Trader in Birthrights . . . . or else the new Huntsman will be a Snake, and will always have been, and always shall be. It would be disastrous."
Turning to Phryne, "One more thing, the dreams I have been having of the Throne -- time does not work there as it does here. Be wary. It is very close to the Waswood and to Irem. There, near the Throne especially, all things shall be would. I would attack, not I did -- nor I shall, nor even I will -- all is would. It would be confusing." Absimiliard's grim features suddenly break with a quicksilver-fast grin -- toothy, predatory.
"Well then. Now you know as much as we Mathieu."
The Captain tucks the mirror into their belt, and rests their hand on a tiger sitting at their side. The tiger rises to stand. "Dawon knows me well -- I despise delay once a plan is underway."
Absimiliard turns to the Leopard-masked woman, "Lady Huntsman -- Take us out."
{edit: because words, we hates them}
edited by absimiliard on 6/20/2016
--
"Because, Parabola!" -- the Curious Captain
Eating nightmares from friends -- and I'm easy to befriend.
Absimiliard: the Black Rose of Wolfstack Docks
|
|
|
+3
link
|
Rackenhammer
Posts: 354
6/23/2016
|
"Research..." There's an odd tone to Mathieu's voice, which only another father could understand. Heartbreak at seeing her on the other side of a conflict that he is on, surprise at seeing her at all, incredulity at her stated reasons, and a small bit of pride at the fact that he's taught her well in keeping cool in a conflict. "What could you possibly be researching?"
"Hm, Turkish Clocks, and their effects upon dreams." Irene's tone is much more inscrutable, but then, she is always rather hard to judge. "I must say, this is all very fascinating. More Salty than Sweet, I should say, which rather goes against the popular hypothesis." Her overall attitude is detached from the situation, though whether that's from Fingerking control, or a genuine scientific approach is hard to tell.
Mathieu, for his part, sighs, anticipating a difficult conversation, and turns on the interloping Trader the full barb of his wit. "If you're going to talk politics, then you must know that I am not only a believer in Protection, but Home Rule. And your lot are as welcome in my Home as the English in County Cork!"
"That's a bit rich, considering I don't live in your home any more than the Empress lives in Dublin." Irene retorts, seeming to inspect her reflection in the blade of a knife.
Any chance of a rejoinder is cut off by the sudden flash of sunlight, which the Bard takes as an opportunity to rush up to his daughter, taking her by the wrist. "What are you doing here, seriously?" He asks in a hoarse whisper. "Do you even know what's going on?"
"Do you? After all, you've only heard one side of the story..."
--
"DO NOT TRUST HAPPY ENDINGS. DO NOT FEAR SAD ENDINGS... NEITHER ARE ENDINGS."
~
Mathieu Psmith: The Bard of Lost Children, loving husband, and a fixture of the artistic set. Can never resist making a show of things...
Irene Psmith: Adopted Daughter of Mathieu. Specializes in Information, Acquisitions, and the Acquisition of Information.
Vaughan Montblanc: Once a frontiersman of Western Canada, he now practices medicine in London. His discretion may be absolutely trusted.
|
|
|
+2
link
|
absimiliard
Posts: 759
6/21/2016
|
Absimiliard turns green at the gills from the transport the Huntsman just used to bring them to Parabola -- it is a phenomenon they have not felt since they first went to Zee. They contain themselves.
Raising a finger to their lips Absimiliard nods to Phryne and the Temple. They would set out for it, each slinking quietly through the jungle. The two would have run straight into the lesser Snake, the guardian, save that it's seven heads with seven voices give it away and they stop short, to observe.
"I would be able to get by it, but doing so will use up some of my power." In Absimliard's hands, once again, the serpent-skin backed mirror. "It would be better if you could distract or slay it, freeing me to advance."
Absimiliard looks to Phryne, a raised eyebrow asking if she believes she can take the Snake down alone so they can proceed.
--
"Because, Parabola!" -- the Curious Captain
Eating nightmares from friends -- and I'm easy to befriend.
Absimiliard: the Black Rose of Wolfstack Docks
|
|
|
+2
link
|
Rackenhammer
Posts: 354
6/25/2016
|
The whole operation, now, was descending from planned excursion to desperate improvisation. It had done so, in fact, from the moment that Mathieu was involved. In order to neutralize him at the last minute, Irene had been called in, but with little prior brainwashing. The upshot of which is that both broke off their discussion when they saw their mutual friend fall broken and entangled right next to them!
While Irene was stunned, Mathieu was thinking hard. All his invocations and Dream-shiftings were not the sort that could be deployed immediately, at least none that he had been given time to grab. Thus, he had to make do with whatever situation was presented to him. And right now, that situation was the PROPERTY OF PROPERTIES.
*Properties... the Property of a man growing conservative in his old age... INSPIRATION!*
Reaching into his pocket, the Glassman pulled out a pistol. "GET. OFF. MY. LAWN!" With a bang, he sent the cosmogone-laced lead bullet straight for the latch of the mirror-catch box, blowing it wide open...
[spoiler] Couldn't pass up the opportunity to go for the pun! [/spoiler]
--
"DO NOT TRUST HAPPY ENDINGS. DO NOT FEAR SAD ENDINGS... NEITHER ARE ENDINGS."
~
Mathieu Psmith: The Bard of Lost Children, loving husband, and a fixture of the artistic set. Can never resist making a show of things...
Irene Psmith: Adopted Daughter of Mathieu. Specializes in Information, Acquisitions, and the Acquisition of Information.
Vaughan Montblanc: Once a frontiersman of Western Canada, he now practices medicine in London. His discretion may be absolutely trusted.
|
|
|
+2
link
|
absimiliard
Posts: 759
6/27/2016
|
[OOC: Then I think we got an answer as to what happened. Thanks Phryne, Rackenhammer, V. I was hoping taking it here where we could all participate would be better than trying to resolve this as a flurry of in-game confusion.
So, let's grant that we all make it back. Abs is wounded, but will heal -- because FL. I don't really wanna have glass fingers or hair though, do you mind if I heal those and just leave their fingernails as mirrored claws? It's gonna sound odd but I try to keep my character physically human -- I did say it would sound odd."]
--
"Because, Parabola!" -- the Curious Captain
Eating nightmares from friends -- and I'm easy to befriend.
Absimiliard: the Black Rose of Wolfstack Docks
|
|
|
+1
link
|
absimiliard
Posts: 759
6/27/2016
|
[OOC: Great! Because mirror-fingernails is pretty cool indeed. It's a nice add, without being too much.]
--
"Because, Parabola!" -- the Curious Captain
Eating nightmares from friends -- and I'm easy to befriend.
Absimiliard: the Black Rose of Wolfstack Docks
|
|
|
+1
link
|
Koh Kai Ying
Posts: 110
6/27/2016
|
[Butting in to say this is a fun read]
--
Illyria K is your friend!!
More active nowadays. Eager for any social actions including Loitering!
|
|
|
+1
link
|
phryne
Posts: 1351
6/27/2016
|
EPILOGUE
[OOC: this brings us full circle as my first RP interaction with Absimiliard was another meeting of him and Apsalar - one that did not go very well... Same as Vavakx said, if someone should be interested in it, PM me. I still think it was a pretty good piece, if I do say so myself. I like my writing a lot better when it's centered on Apsalar, not Phryne, which is why I drag her into every story...]
One night (but then, it's always night in the Neath...), when you're overseeing cargo being offloaded from the Brazen Hussy while admiring your new fingernails, a light-flash reflected in one of them catches your attention. Sure enough, it's the Huntsman, stepping out of a fold of Is-Not/Who-Knows-Where into the relatively sane reality of the Wolfstack Docks.
"Captain," the wayward daughter of the Leopard Clan inclines her head in greeting, "a word if you please."
But then she stays silent for a long while, looking out over the busy docks.
"I trust your friend is fully recovered?" she finally says, awkwardly. "I would call them a fool - but then look where I'm standing!" She laughs, a bitter laugh you well remember from that night in the Flit.
"Anyway, while you were busy fighting the Trader in Birthrights, I met a... a tragic creature. The Radiant Warmonger, a distant ancester of mine. Enslaved two centuries ago! I had never met him before, had hardly believed the stories were true. It shocked me no end to see what had become of the man who is still remembered as one of the greatest warriors in the history of the New Khanate: hardly more than an automaton, with just a last remnant of humanity hidden somewhere inside.
"I brought him back here, into reality, knowing he wouldn't last long. And he didn't, he just faded away... finally free. Yes, I know that's a euphemism, don't look at me like that. But with his last breath, he thanked me. That... made me think."
This cannot be what she came here to tell you, but apparently she takes the long and winding road to make her point, whatever it is. You wait patiently, letting her get there in her own time.
"I have been summoned to the Castle of Forests. Again. I will probably be... chastised*** for my continued disobedience." She shrugs. "Maybe I'll get to see the Bloody-Handed Queen this time. Lady Amarantyne is extremely curious about her, and so am I. Maybe she is nothing. Maybe she is the key to everything.
"Ah, I'm so bad at this! You know, a princess is never taught how to say sorry, or how to admit to being at fault? Indeed, she is taught never to feel sorry, and never to believe herself at fault! Still, all that - being a princess - was a long time ago for me. It feels like a long time ago because time is mutable in Parabola. I have always been the Fingerkings' Huntsman - which is impossible, but true nonetheless. And sometimes I feel like I've lived a thousand lives - the distorted memories of all those who were Huntsman before me, but never existed. Because, Parabola!, as you like to say." That bitter laugh again.
"Anyway, here's my point: that night in the Flit, I left it up to you whether you told my family about my fate or not. It was wrong of me to put the burden of that decision on you. So, here's what I want: tell them everything! Let them know. It's important somebody does. In case I lose myself... in case I, too, never make it back to reality."
She makes to leave, then suddenly grins: "Oh, by the way - nice fingernails! Though I think they're a bit far out, even by your standards..."
*** that's where the scar is from/will be from
--
Accounts: Bag a Legend • Light Fingers • Heart's Desire • Nemesis • no ambition
Exceptional Stories, sorted by Season and by writer ― Favours & Renown Guide
|
|
|
+1
link
|
phryne
Posts: 1351
6/21/2016
|
Phryne raises both eye-brows at Absimiliard's casual suggestion.
"A seven-headed snake? Who would you take me for - Heracles? Oh, well... if I must."
After short deliberation, Phryne asks the taciturn Mr Psmith to backtrack and fetch her one of Apsalar's wicked curved swords. "Should've thought about that earlier," she mutters while using a dagger to cut down some lianas from which she then begins to fashion, quite craftily, a lasso with a wide noose.
When the efficient Mr Psmith returns with the requested blade, she thanks them and sets out toward her quarry.
It's a good thing Lady Amarantyne dressed appropriately for this outing. No bustled dress, none of her flowing Midnighter robes - no, she sports a practical explorer's outfit, the design fashionably hinting at the famous uniform of the now-defunct 23rd Neathy rifles. It does get a bit dirty though as she wends her way through the thick foliage.
Stealth would have been unnecessary, though, as the seven heads of the snake are still engaged in loud conversation. Some are venting their frustration about how very boring this part of Parabola is, with others nostalgically speaking of how long it's been since they've eaten a tasty intruder. When Phryne steps from the jungle, all seven heads turn toward her, utterly startled.
"I would hope you're as stupid as you look," she says to them, already swinging the lasso.
Not bothering to wait for a reply, she elegantly entangles all seven heads in the noose, then quickly draws it tight with impressive strength. With all heads bound closely together, she draws Apsalar's sword and calmly beheads the ghastly creature with one powerful stroke. Sadly, her dashing outfit is utterly ruined by splashing snake-blood.
"Ugh," she comments pointedly.
"Now, gentleman and individual of mysterious gender - would you care to follow?"
*slight pruning of words*
edited by phryne on 6/22/2016
--
Accounts: Bag a Legend • Light Fingers • Heart's Desire • Nemesis • no ambition
Exceptional Stories, sorted by Season and by writer ― Favours & Renown Guide
|
|
|
+1
link
|
absimiliard
Posts: 759
6/21/2016
|
Phryne would have seen Absimiliard when she turned to comment, but they had already silently slipped away towards the Temple during her "distraction".
Absimiliard would surely have been spotted approaching more closely to the Temple if not for Phryne dealing with the serpent. They would not wish to be ambushed, and so look closely at the area around the Throne before revealing themselves to Vavakx and the Atramentous Serpent.
"Hello V. Are you still here, or would you now be only the Trader?"
In one hand the Captain would hold their sword at ready. In the other hand they would hold a mirror backed with serpent-skin -- a trap for Serpents, though far too weak to effect the Trader in Birthrights.
{edit: c/he/they}
edited by absimiliard on 6/21/2016
--
"Because, Parabola!" -- the Curious Captain
Eating nightmares from friends -- and I'm easy to befriend.
Absimiliard: the Black Rose of Wolfstack Docks
|
|
|
+1
link
|
Rackenhammer
Posts: 354
6/22/2016
|
Mathieu was worried.
Not about the danger of the mission; the'd known this sort of thing came with the territory of his profession, and had himself faced monsters of the Is-Not. Danger to himself was more of a stimulant than a repellant, for like all Englishmen, he prided himself on not losing the adventurousness of a schoolboy. Said pride had gotten him into trouble before, of course, and such might be the case this time.
But that wasn't what his worries centered on. No, his worries centered on the fact that he had not heard from his adopted Daughter for some time, and that the last he had heard from her was regarding the shop of a certain Euphemian. Needless to say, he was on edge, and more inclined for action than for talk.
The sudden shift in tense and tension would unseat him, if he wouldn't be so focused. Having fetched Phryne's swords and rejoined the Huntsman in the rearguard, he would be thankful for preparations and participles. "I would watch your backs, if you'd only be quick and quiet about it." The Glassman re-adjusted his spectacles, gripping his own sword cane as he kept an observant eye, stalking behind the advancing pair.
--
"DO NOT TRUST HAPPY ENDINGS. DO NOT FEAR SAD ENDINGS... NEITHER ARE ENDINGS."
~
Mathieu Psmith: The Bard of Lost Children, loving husband, and a fixture of the artistic set. Can never resist making a show of things...
Irene Psmith: Adopted Daughter of Mathieu. Specializes in Information, Acquisitions, and the Acquisition of Information.
Vaughan Montblanc: Once a frontiersman of Western Canada, he now practices medicine in London. His discretion may be absolutely trusted.
|
|
|
+1
link
|
absimiliard
Posts: 759
6/23/2016
|
[spoiler] It's mostly head-cannon. The Isle of Cats is indeed a SS place, but the Snake-Cutters are, unless I'm misremembering, Phryne's invention. All the setting is V's invention. So it's pretty fast and wild.[/spoiler]
--
"Because, Parabola!" -- the Curious Captain
Eating nightmares from friends -- and I'm easy to befriend.
Absimiliard: the Black Rose of Wolfstack Docks
|
|
|
+1
link
|
absimiliard
Posts: 759
6/24/2016
|
The Captain would have called for his tiger, still hidden in the jungles, but with the Trader pursuing the ocelot Vavakx and the Great Snake are no longer together, and any blast must encompass both -- that is now clear.
War requires sacrifice. No army, no matter how well formed, is made for display. No ship, no matter how well trained, is made for anything other than to steam at flank speed into Harm's Way. The Captain would have even sacrificed themselves and their friends to stop the Trader in Birthrights, but separated from Vavakx that is not a choice that is available to them.
Spinning in place Absimiliard turns and races to pursue the ancient Fingerking and Passion, Phryne's companion.
"We need them together Phryne. I will try to draw the Trader back."
In the greenery Dawon creeps around the Temple, finally gaining a position from which to pounce on Vavakx, but holding, waiting, motionless but for the tip of his tail -- twitching madly. His eyes are narrowed, his ears pinned back against his head, but he does not growl -- for now is still a time to wait in reserve.
Dawon often pretends to stupidity, that he is nothing more than a magnificent body attached to a very handsome face -- for a tiger -- but he understands battle well. He knows that now almost all forces are committed.
Soon it will be time, to deploy the Reserves, to decide the battle.
He readies for that moment.
edited by absimiliard on 6/24/2016
--
"Because, Parabola!" -- the Curious Captain
Eating nightmares from friends -- and I'm easy to befriend.
Absimiliard: the Black Rose of Wolfstack Docks
|
|
|
+1
link
|
phryne
Posts: 1351
6/20/2016
|
[OOC for readers: I play both Phryne and the Huntsman. Short explanation for that in the box below]
[spoiler]The Huntsman is my Affable Spy, named Apsalar. She is a daughter of the Leopard Clan from the Khanate. She took on the position as Fingerkings' Huntsman in a real pickle and is looking to be freed from it one day. Only, the "normal" way of freeing a Huntsman is replacement: meaning, the former one ceases to exist. Which she doesn't want. Phryne, always curious about anything Parabolan, has promised to help her find a way...[/spoiler]
The Huntsman looks to Phryne for confirmation. "Go ahead," Phryne says. "From here on, it's your territory. I won't hold you to anything. You have the most to lose among all of us."
The Huntsman nods. "Usually, the Serpent-Cutters are oath-bound not to travel into Parabola, but Isery has given this squad special permission. Two will come with us, while the rest will guard our back here." She beckons them all closer: the squad leader, wearing a tiger's mask, and one wearing a lion's mask; Phryne and the Captain, each carrying a mirrorcatch-box; and Mr Psmith. "Come closer, and make sure to keep in touch with each other. I'll take us a shortcut."
A shortcut it might be, but not a pleasant way to travel: the Huntsman moves in an impossible direction, taking the five people with her. It feels like their spines are wrenched out of their bodies! But before they can even scream, the sensation is gone, and they're standing in the dripping wet jungles below the Hanging Mountains.
Phryne looks sick. "By Storm, that was terrible! Does it feel like that for you, too?"
The Huntsman only shrugs and points ahead: "The Temple would be that way. I would stay here and keep the way open. If you would run into trouble you can't handle, you'd have to try and draw any pursuit here." She shakes her head. "I hate this place. I hate having to speak like this."
--
Accounts: Bag a Legend • Light Fingers • Heart's Desire • Nemesis • no ambition
Exceptional Stories, sorted by Season and by writer ― Favours & Renown Guide
|
|
|
+1
link
|
Vavakx Nonexus
Posts: 892
6/21/2016
|
[OOC: And I get to control pretty much everything the others face here.]
The location the Huntsman would speak of is the Chromium Throne - A place of unhappened things, the throne itself among them. Seals from various lands, from various hands and various times would crowd the sides. Forgotten names would locate at the arch, and layers of soot would cover it all. Some of the grime would be swiped away by a hand, to reveal sign and sigil in the language of stars.
It would be the only constant landmark in this place, as others would come, as they are lost, and leave as they are found and used to their purpose. Only the slight outcroppings of rock would serve as chairs. Such would be the state of anything lead here by Parabola's Rules.
Never would a Fingerking reside here, in this arcane junkyard, except the Atramentous Serpent - 'The Trader of Birthrights' - Marked by the Correspondence as one who would give their past for power and knowledge, as a human no more. It would, of course, be guarded. A lesser snake patrols the edge, gazing in seven directions in search of possible assailants of the under-built temple, as seven voices echo each other's threats to the, never before seem, trespassers.
---
One of the Snake-Cutters, a man in an Ocelot mask, warns those around him of a strong rosy smell coming from the South. A strange glimmer, too bright for any of London's gas-lamps - a solar shine - exudes itself from that very same direction. Another Snake-Cutter, bearing a jaguar's visage, shouts. "It be the Rosers!"
--
Amets Estibariz, the Moulting Eidolon: Cradled by a sun all their own.
Blabbing, the Hobo Everyone Knows: The One Who Pulls The Strings. A Clarity In The Darkness.
Charlotte and the Caretaker: A family?
|
|
|
+1
link
|