Two dissimilar female figures had just arrived at the Den of Vapors in search of information. More than one of the cave's inhabitants had their attentions drawn to them, as one of them was an unfamiliar face. It took just a glance for them to realize she was not from the city: her green eyes kept moved about to inspect her surroundings, instead of looking straight into the ground, and her composed gait was nothing like the hurried shuffle so characteristic of Champoor residents. Following her partner's earlier advice, the woman had covered herself with a borrowed cloak to avoid standing out too much, but that only hid her clothes, not her bearing; that was all the Darktangle men needed to single out the foreigner.

As the two women waded into the vapors, a passing youngster decided to try his luck with the outsider. She looked like an easy mark, and probably didn't have truces with anyone important down here yet. He would just bump into her lightly, grab whatever he found and slink away. No one had to get hurt or even notice the deed until he was far away.

However, right before the man performed his practiced bump into her, their eyes met, and even from under the cloak and the bad lighting her gaze burned into him like a sun. She had not noticed his ill intents right away; rather, she was inspecting him, just like everyone else she came across, and just this passive glance made him flinch. In what could only be described as preemptive regret, he somehow felt like he would have a bad time if he stole from this woman, and quickly adjusted his walk to give her a wide berth.

Noticing how the man suddenly changed paths, Flame Within gave out a short sigh. At least his conscience had weighted down on him before he tried anything, but in her two weeks at this city she'd had more encounters of this kind than she was comfortable with. Not all of them had ended peacefully.

The Zenith kept following her partner, who was considerably more familiar with Darktangle. "Glint, are you-" Her words were interrupted by a pained moan not too far away. It was the sound of someone dying in a most gruesome and unexpected manner - just another reminder that Champoor had been a poor choice for starting out in the "civilized" world. "Are you sure this is the best place to search? I still think our prospects were more optimistic when we were aboveground." She waited for a response from her guide, who was also her host for the time being.

"Rumours are like sewerage," Glint, a thin figure shrouded in patched homespun linen, ragged and grey-beige, observed dryly. "It all flows into Darktangle."

If Flame stood out, then Glint was at home. The only person to comfortably meet the priestess' eyes, the Dagger of Heaven was bone-thin with the angularity of features used to starvation. Flame had been born to sunlight and holiness - Glint walked in the shadows, born to them as the only sunlight she ever saw in the Nighted City was that of her own anima.

When she heard the sounds of violence, her body tensed - not from fear but as a predator sensing another predator on the wind. One thing that Flame discovered was that she always had a portion of her inner light channelled into her balance and senses, the two things which could stand between life and death in this place of dim dank depths.

Glint always has 10 peripheral motes dedicated to Graceful Crane Stance and Sensory Acuity Prana (Charm cost +2m to mute the display) unless she's sleeping or unconscious.

"The Den of Vapors is supposed to be relatively free of violence," the Dagger of Heaven hissed. "Be wary."

She then headed unerringly towards the sounds of violence.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:05, Fri 13 Nov 2015.

The sounds of bones being snapped in powerful jaws echoed from the small tunnel that formed a T junction with one of the main tunnels into the Den of Vapours. The Brass Scorpion lent against the wall, waiting, his face a clouded mess of conflicting emotions.

He stood perhaps a little shorter than an average man, and a good deal broader around the shoulders.  He wasn't over-muscled, but looked powerful like a Dynast's Bulldog might. His skin sported a gentle tan, from his travels East and South, that helped to define the fine trace-work of ritual-like scars that coiled around his forearms, biceps and bared chest.

There had been no clues on the body to suggest why someone would want him dead.  He did not find this too odd - he was an Outsider and that would always set people against him.  He clearly wasn't of Champoor - none of the Nighted City walked with a Manticore at their hip, nor looked at people as intensely - which could be seen as a challenge to a hierarchy's power,he supposed.  The attacker could have been more nefarious, though.  He hoped the nameless meal Jagja was now devouring had not been in the pay of the woman that constantly tried to hunt him.

The sound of Glint approaching never reached his ears - the inhabitant of the Nighted City had a footfall too soft to be heard. Even so, something alerted him to the approach of strangers - perhaps the chittering of vermin growing quiet as the figures approached?

"'Relatively'? You Champoorians do like that word." Seeing that her partner was eager to inspect on the source of that sound, Flame followed quickly on her footsteps. Heading straight towards potential danger might not have been the wisest choice, but in the past few days she had learned to trust in Glint's urban instincts. Alone in the den of sin and deception that was the Nighted City, the only person Flame could rely on was the fellow Lawgiver. The Unconquered Sun would never have graced anyone corrupt or incompetent; of that she was absolutely certain.

They were now very close to whoever, or whatever, had caused the commotion. The sounds were now more subdued, but still sickening: bones cracking, flesh and sinew being torn apart. Right around the corner something was feeding... something wicked, perhaps?

She looked around the corner together with Glint for a moment, briefly spotting the silhouettes of the man and his beast, before retreating to the safety of shadow again. The Pillar of the Sun clutched her staff in readiness; the thing on the ground looked not unlike a creature of darkness, but she also had the impression that the man was just as dangerous, if not more. "What do you say?", she asked in a whisper. "Do they belong here?"

"No," Glint hissed in reply. She padded softly towards the warrior. "Observe. Death comes in many forms and often it's deserved down here."

Jagja emerged from the shadows, her face of beauty marred with gore.  She licked her lips and smiled happily to her companion. Her barbed tail, tipped at the head of its armoured, segmented length with a vicious stinger, swayed from side to side.  Her companion raised an eyebrow and then jerked his head down the main tunnel.

"I think his friends are coming. I have a feeling. Don't attack until I do, though.  You never know... They could be innocent."

Nodding, the Manticore sat on her haunches and began the lengthy process of cleaning the blood from her fur by licking her paw and washing herself with it.  Such an innocent act seemed utterly perverse on the beast of death and destruction. So much so, in fact, that Eron, the Brass Scorpion, had to look away and suppress a shudder of revulsion.

Flame slowly paced into the tunnel together with her guide. She observed the creature emerge from the shadows to lick itself and heard the man talking to it, wondering what to make of it. What Glint said was true, she supposed, and self-defense was a necessity in this city's atmosphere. But the beast was an aggravating element. A creature of this kind was not meant to walk among humans, and mortal blood was not meant to adorn its mane. "A deserved death? ... I will be the judge of that."

The two Lawgivers were now close enough to notice the man was on alert. Further stealth would likely be pointless, the Zenith concluded. Flame stepped forward and stopped, staying beside Glint, holding her simple wooden staff loosely to the side with one hand. She showed no intent to fight. Yet. "Dangerous beasts should be kept on a leash. Are you its master?"

Her green gaze inspected the stranger.

With a tilt of his head, the brass Scorpion watched the woman stalk out before him.  As she spoke, he noted her baring - she was too confident to not be someone powerful, far too sure of herself when faced with his intimidating presence.  It struck him as odd that she would challenge him without the support of guards, but he made no comment about that - he simply assumed she had some skill in arms.

"I judge for myself what is just and deserved, stranger. I see no reason to submit such decisions to your scrutiny. Indeed, if I were to await your pleasure on all such choices, I would be dead a dozen times over. Instead of battering me with questions about why and what, perhaps a better place to begin would be with Who."  He shrugged, still leaning against the wall, and folded his arms.

If Jagja thought anything about this exchange, she remained silent on the subject, busying herself with getting the blood from her fur and face. Her eyes didn't flicker from their task.  Her tail, however, did stop its weaving, instead coming to rest, poised, above her head.

Despite his response though. Eron, the Brass Scorpion, pondered if the death was justified.  He pondered if he could justify every death he'd caused since he become something powerful - something that would change the world. He knew, though, he could not. He knew there was one death he would regret for a long time.  He remembered the man's eyes - the light leaving them - the accusal - the sense of betrayal.

To distract himself from those morose thoughts, he began drumming on his arms with his fingers, waiting for the snoopy lady's reply.

Glint emerged from the shadows, a creature of them, her eyes glinting beneath her hood. She wasn't deliberately trying to produce an air of evasion and stealth - from her movements, it was deep as the bone. She was the predator in her home territory, eyeing another for its intentions.

"If he attacked you, it was deserved. But you've shed blood in a place that... has a certain truce. All may freely come and go, trade information, as long as they do no harm. If this one attacked you, you were in the right - but even so, all will be wary of you, for you are an outsider, and this is our home."

"Indeed. As it stands, all I see is a man slaughtered so that your pet may eat. If that's what truly happened, then as a woman of faith this is a desecration I cannot stand." Although the priestess' expression and voice were neutral, there was palpable weight behind her words as she said that.

"So, will you give us an acceptable answer, or just let your silence speak for you? And do not think you're exempt from justice. Even in the deepest darkness the Sun sees all." Flame Within locked eyes with the stranger, waiting for an answer. She didn't know yet what to make of this man, so his next words would be crucial.

Eron snarled and stood, dropping his hands to the hilts of his twined blades, his face suddenly a terrible mask of anger and denial. His eyes flashed dangerously.

"You are an idiot if you think I stalked into this cave system only to murder a man in sight of witnesses to feed the manticore who has bound itself in oaths of fealty. And a bigger idiot if you think I attacked an armed stranger for no other reason than the rumbling of a beast's stomach.  And now, when asked to identify yourself, you decide to instead heap blame on a stranger for a death you know nothing - absolutely nothing - about."

He glanced at Glint, less anger funnelled at her - indeed, she had spoken truth, not incited wrath. He turned his eyes back to Flames Within, though she had not yet told him her name. "I am The Brass Scorpion, and despite your accusations and invented crimes, I have done no wrong. I have killed to defend myself before, and I will kill to defend myself again. And if that time is now, I say draw whatever weapon you feel you must and fight, or else drop your absurd manner and speak to me not as a child, but as a man who can burn away the demons of night and sunder the heart of a mountain with his sword."

As he spoke, his aspect become more graceful and righteous, yet also more terrible and deadly.  His body seemed to ooze threat, but also a correctness that sought to halt any conflict of words to his. Something she had said had triggered this Essence Fever, and his countenance bore all the power he could bring to bare on the conflict before him.

Behind him, jagja stood and watched, trembling slightly - and not from the two figures now facing her companion, but from her companions' dreadful mien.

OOC:
Activating Harmonious Presence Meditation (reflexive) and Majestic Radiant Presence (simple), combining with the ever-present Tiger's Dreadful Symmetry, beefing up his social defences. Speaking against him or attacking costs 1wp. There is no essence flair, since he spends his personal motes to achieve these effects.

Glint placed her hand on Flame's arm to silence the priestess. The woman didn't understand when to accuse and not to accuse - and in Champoor, many would consider feeding an exotic beast a reasonable excuse to attack someone who wouldn't be missed.

"I am Glint," she said, introducing herself to the man who burned with threat and... denial. He burned, though nothing showed, like the sun that sometimes graced her and Flame's brows. "Say it clearly - did you attack this one or did he attack you first?"

She suspected that he was as she and Flame.

Jagja watched.  She could remember a life before her own, a life where she had not been so blessed as she was now - a life without a lionine body, a scorpion tail, a magnificent mane.  She remembered these days with clinical detachment - they were not her life, after all. One such memory seemed to spring into her mind readily; an event where she had stood in the middle of two opposing men, parting father and lover who argued over her. She remembered the bravery needed to do that and wondered, in that moment, if the woman interposing herself between her Companion (for she did not think of The Brass Scorpion as her Master, more her ward - a ward whom had extracted from her an oath of service) and the woman.  That took guts.

She could see Eron, the Brass Scorpion, as his features softened a little, his anger receding a little. She watched as his fingers unclenched from around the pommels of his twin blades, those fangs which he used so skilfully.  She listened as he spoke.
"I was being followed.  When confronted, I was attacked. I saw no reason to deny Jagja her right to devour the corpse."

The Manticore tilted her head, looking at the women, and then specifically at Glint.  "It is true. We were followed.  When Eron drew his blades, the human attacked. He was armed with a blade and had skill in using it. And we could not be sure we were not being stalked by minions of that woman that keeps trying to kill us."

The Brass Scorpion looked back over his shoulder at the monster, narrowing his eyes in annoyance. Jagja shrugged, looking back at him.
"It is better to be honest, Eron. You said the same to me, once."  The Brass Scorpion sighed and nodded in agreement.

"Then to me, it is settled," Glint declared, flashing a glance at Flame that was one of the few warning looks she'd bestowed on the priestess since she'd come to Champoor. "Of course, you're now going to find it harder to trade information because the pair of you are clearly supernatural predators."

The Palace of Broken Glass

Rufar swept into Mirai's room, his draped silks swirling about him in the warm night air. Brushing aside his robes to reveal loosely draped pants of white cotton, the factor took a seat without further fanfare. For a moment, he was quiet, leaning into his tented fingers with intense, narrowed eyes.

Taking the offered tea, Rufar finally reclined, releasing some of his tension as he took a sip. "You could," he said, eyeing Mirai cooly, "but I suspect the company would rather we didn't." Leaning on one arm, the fire-light danced in Rufar's eyes as he spoke. "Mercenaries can be precious about their reputations, and I suspect they'll be loathe to admit one of their men fell prey to a common, Champoor criminal."

Rufar sighed, closing his eyes. "I'd hoped that bringing an anathema on this expedition would have brought us better luck, but it seems Champoor remains as hostile to our advances as ever."

Darktangle - The Den of Vapors

Glint and Flame were not the only two to notice the commotion, nor the only ones to have seen the strange, foreign man and his fearsome companion. Unfortunately, the other witnesses were less even tempered about it, and there was now some ruckus as several people scurried out of the main cavern and into the side tunnels. One in particular, a portly fellow dressed in white and black rags, could be heard shouting something about a demon.

Darktangle crew, I'm going to ask that you be a bit patient with me while I figure things out with Flame. I don't want to advance much further until I have some idea about whether she's staying or not. I don't want to leave you totally in limbo, so I'll try to facilitate some action for you shortly.

Glint raised her eyebrows at Scorpion as if to say "I told you so."

Inclining his head to Glint, the Brass Scorpion seemed to calm himself, though the aura of Danger he emitted like a beacon did not lessen.  He took a deep breath, and let it go, as if releasing a cloud of invisible smoke from his lungs. He had once more found his centre.

"I..." He paused as he head the commotion from in the main cavern and gritted his teeth. "I am no demon, simply a man who wants to remain a man. Do not compare me to the Monsters of the Time Before."  His words were not really addressed to Glint, or to the fat idiot screaming about beasts from beyond Creation. They were merely spoken to the world at large, warning fate of the repercussions for angering him.

"It might be wise to move from here, find some place we can sit, talk, if you still doubt me.  Let us leave accusations aside, and talk only of facts and perhaps, with some of Heaven's will, we might come to an arrangement we can all be satisfied with.  Jagja and I have travlled a long way to find a place to hide from those that hunt us - Tales of the Nighted City have reached even my ears in Chang Dav."

The manticore tilted her head and then nodded along as The Brass Scorpion spoke, listening to his words intently.  If someone were to examine her eyes when Eron was speaking, they might have seen the glimmer of love behind the slitted irises of her face. Then again, perhaps it more closely resembled respectful hatred...

"Champoor is a good place to hide. Come, I have a place sacred to the sun we can sit and discuss what brought you here."

Glint turned on bare, hard-soled feet. Poverty was ingrained into the visible bones of her body, the striated flesh of a arm briefly shown, the glitter of hungry eyes.

Rufar's words piqued Mirai's wariness and her curiosity both, but she didn't let it show. Sipping her tea to delicately mask the instant, immediate expression it was gone when she lowered her cup,leaving Rufar nothing to sea to get a read on her.  She had rehearsed such acusations on paper before, written what it might be like to be accused of being anathema. She quickly realized he hadn't directly accused her, but he was probably testing her reaction to the words. His suspicion made sense, she knew.  (Applying Guile of 5+ Stunt, if he is trying to get a read on her.)

Letting the moment linger, she turned her eyes from the fire to him, and spoke. "... Well, Tears isn't actually involved in Guild business. I do appreciate you allowing me to bring her along. She's wanted to show me the Dreaming Sea for some time. She's really more of a muse than a good luck charm, though." Mirai took another sip of tea.

"Even if she's decided she has to go see the sea this very evening..." Mirai let out a bit of a wistful sigh, one she hoped would feel a bit more smitten than perhaps she truly felt. "As for the city, I doubt it truly matters what what company we're keeping.  This city wouldn't open itself at a word from anyone, anathema, empress, or emmisary.  No, any ground we gain here, we will have to earn."

Mirai sat back and closed her eyes for a moment, sighing as she put her teacup down. "I planned to visit the city's archives tomorrow. Even a city run by criminals has to have records and books kept, and perhaps we can learn something from them. However, I'm also quite sure that whoever's drugged and attacked our mercenaries doesn't want us here - and if we're threatening someone with our very presence, this is probably the in we need in the city to cement our position. The enemy of our enemy is ideally, a potential friend. We need to get a look at the major players in this city, so we can prepare a strategy.  But that's your department. Leave the drafting of contracts and letter-writing to me."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:58, Wed 18 Nov 2015.

The Palace of Shattered Glass

The factor's eyes narrowed for a brief moment as he drank in Mirai's face, picking it over for any little tell he could find. A second later, though, his features softened as he took another sip of his own tea. "Don't be ridiculous," he said, glancing towards the window. "I wouldn't want that fiend anywhere near this business . . . we're dealing in coin, and the only thing a creature like her trades in is souls."

Reclining to the side, Rufar nodded along as Mirai spoke. "I'm not so convinced that this is a conspiracy," he said, a look of exasperation painting his face as it fell into his palm. "Champoor is a dangerous city . . . particularly for foreigners, and if our mercenaries had the slightest bit of sense, they'd know better than to try to pry a woman's legs apart after sunset."

"If you're so keen to investigate," Rufar said, fixing his eyes on Mirai once more, "then you're welcome to it, but you'll struggle to find the sort of record you're after." Leaning forward again, his eyes travel to a faraway place. "Champoor has no king, no regent, and something far more treacherous than thieves rules here. A spirit, and a dark one at that, holds the reigns . . . and what need have gods for journals and ledgers." Thinking better on it, Rufar's eyes alight for a moment as an idle hand strokes the bristly, dark hairs of his goatee. "Priests, however, are in abundant supply."

Darktangle - The Lost Sunlight Grotto

***Coming Soon***

Mirai frowned ever-so-slightly as the factor commented on Raksha. She wouldn't have believed it had she not made the bargain directly with her new companion... Still... "I told you, she can subsist on the stories I write for her. We don't have to worry about her preying on someone." Mirai seemed to speak with conviction, which in itself was suggestion enough that it wasn't something the fae had beguiled her into believing.

Mirai sighed, and took a sip of her tea, glancing toward the fire thoughtfully. "... I see. So there was more to this than I've heard. I do want to look into the matter, but if there is no single proper organization in control here, then tracking down one puppet won't do us any good.  I don't suppose you know how to approach and bargain with gods, so you, Rufar?" she prompted, with a slightly bemused shrug.

"Yes, priests seem the logical place to start. We'll need to learn about this spirit. Do you know if there is any sort of unified clergy for this god? If so, that would be the place to begin. Otherwise, I can put my ear to the ground and see what information I can gather."

She glanced down to her parchment, and held it up to take some notes.  "I don't suppose you might suggest some starting points? This is my first time in Champoor, and I'm still... adapting to it."

The Palace of Shattered Glass

"There's a great difference between what a creature can do," Rufar said, eyes narrow as he too the measure of the young woman sitting across from him, "and what they will do . . . a lesson you would do well to remember."

Thinking hard on her questions, Rufar stroked the dark, bristly hair sprouting from his chin. "A dark dragon is the true mistress of Champoor, but she is a distant patron to many." As he continued to think, he turned his gaze to the glimmering lanterns that hung from the ceiling, the orange light dancing in his eyes. "Many foul gods call Champoor their home, and while the city's common riff-raff often owe their fortunes to one or more, only the priests of the black shroud are truly their servants."

With a sudden intensity, Rufar turned his eyes toward Mirai once more. "Be careful if you would court them in their home, the House of Candles, for they follow strange faiths and keep stranger ways. Do not trust them, for to them, lies might be holier than the truth."

Darktangle - The Sunlight Grotto

There in the dark of the Den of Vapors, the woman called Flame Within wore a worried look across her face. She could not believe the darkness of this place, or the people who called it home. That this man could kill so casually and be reprimanded for nothing more than his indiscretion seemed unthinkable. "I think I have come to the wrong shore," she said, eyes downcast as she searched for answers within. "If you would walk with him," she said, turning to Glint, "then I won't be able to follow you any longer." Turning away, she stepped out into the darkness and the fog of vapor, hoping she'd find the answers she needed elsewhere . . .

The trek back through the tangle of tunnels and sewers passed slowly, stretching on as long as the reach of those rank, filth encrusted catacombs could. As the journey continued, their path pulled them further and further from the surface, winding into the ground and brushing places that had scarcely known the face of a sun-touched creature in centuries. A faint skittering could be heard over the walls, slick with slime and condensation. The air was cool and dark, the manticore bristled as their path took them into yet another narrow passage. Up ahead, however, they could barely make out a faint, golden iridescence, warming the cold, dark cavern with its light.

Finally, they had arrived. The tunnel opened into a grander cavern. Water ran down the walls in small, quiet waterfalls and trickled from long stalactites overhead, pooling a few meters down in a great, clear pool that shown like a mirror. The rock of the place was dotted here and there with clusters of crystal, pulsing in their presence with a faint, golden illumination, as if it reflected the light of the sun that burned within their souls. Across the pool, a lone, rocky bridge stretched, and from the platform on the other side, twin staircases, carved from the cold rock itself, curled up a temple's edifice.

This was Glint's sanctum.

Glint sighed, a long mournful sound, as Flame turned her back and walked away. Born in sunlight, the priestess had no understanding of what life in Champoor was like. The thief had brought his fate upon himself.

As they reached the crystal grotto that the Night Caste called home, she turned around and looked up at Scorpion and the manticore. "I hope you are both of good intent. My home is not kind to those of the darkness."

Following their new friend, The Brass Scorpion and his companion walked watchfully and cautiously to what seemed to be their destination.  Eron's eyes scanned back and forth, searching for hidden assailants, the manticore simply sniffed the air at opportune moments, and flapped her ears this way and that.

When Glint stopped and added a warning, Eron opened his hands, palms flat and empty. "Trust me when I say that, should I need to use my full strength, darkness will be expelled from my sight."

"Good. If you would survive here, you need to understand this place." Glint led them deep into the sanctum, where a couple piles of rags and two clay pots - one reeking of night soil and the other smelling vaguely rice-like as it warmed over a fire - were visible as the only furniture.

Glint obviously lacked means of any kind.