Number Twenty Three and Immaculate Kestrel arrived at Sector 5, Sunder Street to check up on a factory contact, Copper Crane, one of the Freerunners' clandestine suppliers of metal components and armaments. Crane had not been in communication for at least a week, and now the time had come to ensure continued business, or if necessary, his safety.

At the same time, the workers of the Sector 5 factories were engaged in yet another strike. For several days straight now they have been cutting their own hours short or outright refusing to work, and as the days went by, more and more factories were impacted by the trend. Though the strike was not in fact Freerunner-instigated, many of the workers picketed and shouted slogans all but connecting them to Free and his organization, calling out for the Celestials that had freed themselves from the collars. Clamoring to be Free as they are, rather than a nameless cog in the great machine. Clamoring to be saved by them.

Though the demonstrations were originally peaceful, held primarily in South Diamond Park, smack between the major industries of the Sector, the local industry leaders and security personnel were getting worried. Too many guards, monks and automatons were being diverted toward reports of Celestials breaking free and wreaking havoc, and the remaining few lacked the manpower to keep the strikers in line. Nor could they simply appease them, for what they asked extended well beyond a few more vouchers for food or booze. With the above districts putting pressure on the Earth industries to deliver resources and goods, someone had to do something!

That something apparently meant violence. Tension between the protestors and the loyalists quickly escalated into full-blown conflict. Workers with weapons stolen from the factories rose up in great numbers against ill-prepared but desperate Sector guards, while factory owners, local merchants and others hurried to flee from the firefight. Looters and anarchists flocked like moths to a candle, and the industrial sub-sector went up in flames and amidst shouts, bloody altercations and shattering glass.

And Twenty Three and Kestrel in the midst of it. Back to the wall in an alleyway, within sight of a group of pipe-wielding workers cornering a wounded Terrestrial, while a warehouse just across the street features filthy opportunists coming to blows over makeshift sacks of goods. Another group chasing a horrified well-to-do pair turns into another side street. "Hurry up," someone shouts, "before the Peace Force gets here! It's that burning bitch, Jedevra!"

Just a block down the street is Sunder Street Metalworks, where Copper Crane is expected to be. Or 23 and Kestrel can opt to get out. Some distance westward, Freerunner leader Irjin Edgestrider keeps a safehouse, or so they recall.
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:55, Thu 23 July 2009.

"Hey! Stop that!"

Immy... probably wasn't the best girl to do that kind of thing. By and large, hey! stop that!"s should be reserved for large, hulking men between the age of 18 and 30, preferably with a you-sized axe of some kind. Dripping blood. "Stop that"s from people like Immy probably didn't work unless she was your mother, and they tended to be too young for that sort of thing.

In fact, in the right contexts, most people would probably take it as encouragement; but then again, that's why she had a sword, right? Swordy swords. Swords added a lot of weight to any argument, because they were stabbity and incisive. A little like tongues, really, but you couldn't poke people with tongues, and you could poke people and arguments with a sword. They were useful like that.

Um. Where was she?

Oh, right. "Now!"

They turned around. One of them leered a little. People do that a lot and a lot. It was the face, you see; it distracted them from other things. I mean, you'd think people would see the sword first, right? It was, was pointy and stuff. Obviously, when you look at something, you look at the things that can hurt you first, because otherwise you'd get distracted by the pretty things and you find a sword up your gut or something, arrgh, arrgh, kick kick collapse die.

She had some personal experience with that kind of thing.

But in the end she didn't need to stab them, because they saw the dripping sword and thought better of every kind of thing and ran off, so she helped the person up and smiled. "Be careful next time, ok?" He nodded (very quickly!) and ran.

Oh well.

"Immy, we don't have time to fix every slight wrong in our way."

Mmmhm.

"It's inefficient. Completing our duties would further this cause in far less time."

Mmmmhm. Pause. "He's over there, right?"

"Yes, Immy, he is."

"Oh, ok." Her sword itched slightly, so she held it in her mind until it bonded to her again. "Let's go, then!"

He sighed. Kestrel wondered briefly if she should whistle.

[Private to GM: All That Glitters on the blade, 1m committed. Ril says he's going to be insanely busy for a bit, so take it I'm posting for him. :)]

Twenty Three and Immaculate Kestrel cross the street and head down to the Sunder Street Metalworks. The building is already in the process of being ransacked, most of the effort concentrated on the first floor. Not everyone is there to take goods so much as to simply smash what's there.

Goods from the front storehouse are already spilled all over the street. Things like metal pipes, receptacles and kitchen items, nails and bolts, hammers and wrenches and other mundane tools. Nothing crucial -- yet -- though the two Exalts also know that the harmless mundane items are just scraping on the full range of products at the Metalworks, which includes magitech components, armor plating and blades, most of which are sent toward higher districts to be finished and enchanted.

A rioter could arm themselves well here, if they knew where to look. They could also gleefully destroy production at one of the major providers of metal parts for the complex industries of Fire District. Everything is a disaster in the making, here. A cluster of disasters, all converging in the same location.

As 23 and Immy skip over into another alley, climbing a rear staircase to the second floor office Crane usually keeps, they feel several eyes glancing their way. Curious stares. Greedy stares. The door at the top of the stairs is locked, and though they cannot have a clear view of the street from there, the pair hears the smashing of rubble and upending of boxes continue. There are worse sounds, as well. Between the spirited shouts of rebellious workers and the distant report of cannons striking crumbling walls, are the unfortunate victims of society imploding in on itself.

But for now, the door. It is metallic and solid. "W...who's there?" shouts a sharp, paranoid voice from beyond it.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:56, Wed 15 July 2009.

Tch. Silly, silly people. Metal bits strewn here, and there, and everywhere really. There was... aw.... there were little bits of forge on the floor. Why would there be forge on the floor? Aside from the bits that were supposed to be, but Immy was pretty sure the insides weren't supposed to be down there! On the road! Outside the building! And the poor little nails! Bending, she picked up a handful and stuck them in a pocket. Poor little things; wrong place, wrong time, and anything could happen to you. Picked up and put in a plank of wood, no doubt, and used to hit people instead of fixing pretty things. She picked up another handful. And maybe the little god of the storehouse could come along too, right? After all, the Free had plenty of storehouses, here and there, so maybe she could share some space with another nice little god, and they'd provide extra special double spirit powers to it. She tapped a nail against the wall to let the little god come on, and stuck those into a pocket too. Maybe that meant her pocket was a warehouse now.

Hmmm.

(There were people staring at her, but she ignored them a little. People stared at her a lot and a lot. People could be very odd.)

(Then she got bored of ignoring them, so she turned around and waved a little. Hello!)

"Hello! It's Immy! Are you Copper Crane?" Ooooh. Hmmmm. Hmmmm. Hairpin, hairpin, hairpin... oh, here! A lick of bright pink hair tickled at her ear, but she ignored it. Big door! Hairpin hairpin in, good hairpin, second hairpin, click click, hmmm. "Hello!" The sound echoed faintly. Aha! Tumbler here, here, and here.... eek. Too heavy.

...hey! I have a pocketful of nails. Humming happily, she drew one out. Not the warehouse nail? Not the warehouse nail. Warehouse little godnail, help me open your warehouse door? Um. Because it's a really big door! And, um, and it's in my way. (Not really.) click! Push it in and...

[Private to GM: 20:37, Today: Immaculate Kestrel rolled 3 successes using 8d10 with the White Wolf Exalted system with a target of 7 with rolls of 5,8,2,7,8,3,3,3. Hairpickdoor!. ]
This message was last edited by the player at 12:48, Wed 15 July 2009.

It's not certain whether there really is a little god of the storehouse that just hopped onto the nail. But certainly, if that entity were to exist she may well find the gesture rather endearing. To all inspection the nail is just a nail. Maybe if Immaculate Kestrel came up with a nice attractive prayer to the Sunder Street Warehouse she could make sure, though what little she knew of prayer was likely based on common superstition with dubious success rate, or Immaculate texts, which forbade worshiping spirits altogether.

Then again, prayer is not very far off from theatrics, all things considered. One just had to mean it more. [Private to Immaculate Kestrel: I figure you were doing typically Immy ramble, but cause I like to give options, you COULD always try to do a prayer. It's Cha+Performance and you're fairly good at it. You could even sacrifice a nail! (resource 1.. though the base diff is 7-resources of sacrifice)]

In any case, their contact is probably more important for now. The heavy door between 23 and Immy, and Copper Crane, is easily unlocked. The mechanism clicks for her readily once she has the tumblers all jiggered in place.

"I am Copper Crane... wait! Don't open that door!" The voice inside is male, but strained enough with worry that it squeaks now and then, almost girl-like. "I've got a firearm and I'm not afraid to use it!"

Chk--WHOOOMM! As soon as Immy has the door open, a strong force blasts it back shut, hard enough that if she were not so acrobatically fit, she may have fallen right on her rump.

Then a brief silence, and a clearing of the throat. "Uh... sorry. Did you say Immy, as in, Immaculate Kestrel, Immy? Is Twenty Three there as well? My gods ... I ... did I hurt you? H-hurry, get inside! The rioters, they're everywhere!" As if they needed him to tell them that. Fortunately, the door is no longer locked, just shut (and with a bump in the middle of it. Whatever he shot at it hit pretty damned hard, considering the door's thickness.)

Twenty Three sighs and clicks out something to Immy.

'What did I tell you about picking the locks of people we like unless I tell you to do so?'

And then there's that lovely, lovely voice you expect when Twenty Three shows up. For 'lovely', read 'good god, it's like there's three people under that hood...'

It's always been uncertain whether this is a natural effect or something that's artifically created to maintain his...her...anonymity. Many people have tried to find out, but failed.

In any case, Twenty Three's voice is instantly recognisable by anyone who knows hir. It's a constantly shifting array of voices, just slightly out of sync...

"Crane. Report. Do we have to evacuate you?"

"Yep! But I'm ok! Just my dignity!" Wow, that was a. Really big bump. Curiously, Immy traced her fingers over the raised dome. "Ooooh. Can you do that again?"

click click

'What did I tell you about picking the locks of people we like unless I tell you to do so?'

"Don't do it, not even for practice, or if you think there's something interesting, or if you hear something interesting, or, Immy are you listening, if you see, smell, psionically detect, feel reverberations through the floor or in any other way sense, Immy, sense that there is something vaguely interesting, yes, even if there is someone shouting for help, hm, actually, hey, what are you doing, Immy, Immy!"

Pause. At least, that's what she thinks had happened. There was this simply beautiful chest over there, see, and the lock was like the size of her head. You don't pass up a chance like that. And people kept telling her she tended to embellish her memories or something, but not like there was anything wrong with that, right? I mean, otherwise, remembering things would be so boring. Why would you just want to see the same thing twice?

"That's what you said the last time, anyway. The time before that, you told me not to do it if it was just standing there in front of you, or for the fun of it, or if I would just lock it again right after, or even if I accidentally fell against the door and the picks slipped in just right and it's obviously the will of Heaven and would offend all my ancestors if I didn't. But you didn't mention that the last time, so I figured they weren't important anymore." Her winning smile could have won over rocks.

...

"Awwwww. Please? They just kinda stare at me! And if I don't my fingers will rust and I'll need to oil the joints and all and then they'll start to squeak really loudly when I go into places and then I won't be able to sneak places or steal stuff for you anymore, and then you'll dump me into a gutter somewhere and I'll have to fight for food and table scraps and then one day I'll drink some poisoned water and die." She waved her fingers in front of him. Squeak squeak. Squeak squeeeeeak.

So a little later she was fiddling with the godnail across the not-a-warehouse wall, scratching little prayers to it in the brick. Party pooper. Oh, well. At least it gave her time to feed her little god, right? Skrrrrch. 23 and Crane were talky talking, but she was Ignoring Them for awhile. Nobody understood her.

"But I understand you, right, little warehouse god? You're a poor little kid that was trying her best for everything, untill all of a sudden bad stuff happened and it wasn't your fault, but they hurt you for it anyway and started pulling you inside out because they were very silly bad people. And you were trying to do what you were supposed to, even in these bad times, but all of a sudden the shipments weren't coming and the everything wasn't working and you didn't know what to do. And now bits of you are scattered all over the floor and you're scared they'll probably burn you down instead of fixing you again. Because people are mean." The nail jumped and shivered from knuckle to knuckle, followed by a second, then a third. "But it's ok, because now you're with us, right, little god? And I promise, I'll take care of you for a little. Immy doesn't really know what's going to happen, either, but nobody does, anyway, and she'll try to fix you up with a cute little god and then you can live together forever and ever and call me up for cups of tea. But then you'll have to come upstairs, because Immy's going to the surface, ok? And we can go see the sun!"

Jump. Twitch. Shiver. Screech. The nails looped in and out of each other in time to her words, taking their turn to bounce off an increasingly complex pattern on the wall; the strange, flickering steps of an old, old dance, whispering praise and glory to Lord Sol. "Oh. Do you like to dance, littlegod?"

[Private to GM: 1 wp for Compassion! 21:33, Today: Immaculate Kestrel rolled 7 successes using 14d10 with the White Wolf Exalted system with a target of 7 with rolls of 6,8,1,8,10,1,10,3,4,3,9,6,4,3. The godnail... actually, hmm. It seems to be a godnail combination Inspirational Speech cum Nail Dancing.]
This message was last edited by the player at 14:52, Thu 16 July 2009.

"Must you even ask? It's a warzone here! I'd rather not leave the place to be ruined like this, but there's really no choice. My bosses at the storehouse have already skipped out with whatever they could carry -- I have no idea if they've made it or, got beaten to death somewhere along the way..." 23 could almost hear that shudder through the door. "I stayed behind in case you would come... but... suffice it to say I won't be able to supply you from here for quite a while."

"D..don't stay out there, come in. I'm still... getting... ready." Whatever he's doing in there sounds rather exerting, and anyway, in the meantime a group of several workers/rioters/petty criminals/whatever they might be are rounding the corner into the alleyway where the staircase and door is. Their impromptu leader appears to be an impressively large tattooed man that might well have some bull-man blood. Typical heavy laborer stock.

Then the fzzzzt of a public address system coming online gives everyone pause. The voice that resounds through the streets and alleys of the industrial zone is strong, female and obviously expects to be obeyed. "Workers and Citizens of City of Pasiap's Resolve, Sector Five. This is Winglord Sesus Raves Jedevra of the Fire District Peace Force, commander of Burning Feather. As the official representative of the Council's law, you are ordered to cease all acts of violence and rebellion, terrorism and larceny. Drop your weapons and proceed calmly with your hands up toward the corners of Granite, Glass, Steel and Crystal."

"Should you cooperate peacefully, there will be no incident. You will be handled by Peace Force officers, searched, questioned, if necessary punished to the full extent of the law, but you will be treated as citizens and not as enemies of the Coils. However, should any of you resist arrest, we will be compelled to use necessary force. You will be considered enemies of the state and your lives and rights will be forfeit."

"I will not repeat this twice. Drop your weapons and proceed calmly with your hands up toward the corners of Granite, Glass, Steel and Crystal. Cooperate with the directions of the Peace Force, or your lives and rights will be forfeit!"

This does give Immy plenty of time to busy herself communing with the god-that-might-be. The nail jumping in her hand trembles, and finally takes on a life of its own, hovering by its own volition. Several other nails rise up from the ground or shake themselves free of her pockets, and swarm together as if magnetically attracted to one another -- forming the vague impression of face, a pair of hands. Could the nails be smiling at her? A voice resonates in her head. [Private to Immaculate Kestrel: "I have heard your prayer, Sunchosen. If you can find me a new sanctuary, I would be pleased and indebted to you."

(OOC: Also I have no idea where I am going with this! Though it's possible a little god of this stature may be able to do small benedictions on you now and then if you pray on your 'lucky nail'. I would be incredibly amused if you had multiple little gods following you around. This one is very minor though. You could come up with whatever name you want for it, unless you'd rather I do.)]

Twenty Three's either ignoring the rioters or hasn't noticed them. Perhaps they've been classified 'Not a threat'.

"If we're going to evacuate you, you're leaving now. If you're still getting ready you're too late. Cut losses and move."

Hir head turns to look at the nails and Immy having...apparently, fun, and swivels back to the door. "You have five seconds. After that, we're going to evacuate you by force, or let you deal with the Peace Force alone. I'm inclined towards option two. Five."

Halfway between 'three' and 'two' Copper Crane hastily shoves the door open. He is a short statured man with short hair of a rather fitting copper color, currently mussed and matted. He wears a soot-stained grey coat and dark pants. A hastily fitted breastplate covers his chest over a once-white shirt, and he wears a pot as a makeshift helmet.

He carries a large firearm, likely a fuel bolt launcher from the size and shape, though he doesn't at all look accustomed to wielding it. He also keeps several sheafs of documents in a messenger bag slung close to his body. Round glasses perch on his pointed nose, and the blue eyes behind them are concerned and frantic.

"All right... all right! I'm h -- hey! Those men are coming straight for us!"

Jedevra's speech only gave the thugs turning into the street a moment of pause. In the end it only seems to have riled them up all the more, and they let out a cry of triumph, seeing more 'victims' to prey on. Carrying makeshift clubs, stolen knives and chains, they are a group of 10-12 men, and step forward to surround the staircase 23, Kestrel and Crane are standing on. In a rather crude intimidation tactic, they start pounding their weapons on the staircase railing, daring the small group to jump down or descend the steps to fight them.

---

OOC: well... there are multiple ways you could deal with this, you could try to social this group, or you could try the jump and run (may incur fall damage, so Crane could need some convincing) or you can just fight through them (in which case you roll Join Battle).
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:15, Sat 18 July 2009.

...ooooh. Hello! Oh, oh, how silly of her. Of course the warehouse littlegod would need more than one nail to live in! I mean, gods were able to do that entire big-and-small thing, but that doesn't mean it'd be nice to squeeze you into a cupcake, right? Probably made you feel like... like those old super-sealed military foods they looted two weeks ago. You probably wouldn't die or anything, but it made you feel all squished up and uncomfortable. "Oh, call me Immy! No need for all the Sunchosen stuff, ok? I don't go around calling him," she waves a hand at 23, "Starman, and nobody calls Free the Moon Dude. It'd be like calling you Warehouse Person, or something." Pause. "Unless you are called Warehouse Person. Do littlegods have names? I've never talked to one before." Or, rather, she had, but they never responded. She always thought they were mute, or something. Like Xiiri. [Private to GM: Random Person!]

But then there was a pounding and a sounding, and it was like there were a dozen pe--oh. There were a dozen people. Although they were just pounding on the stairs, not having a party on the landing.

"...silly people. Um. Where was I? Um. Oh! Do you have a particular type of warehouse in mind, littlegod? The Freerunners have quite a plenty, but they all tend to be deeper down then this, although I'm certain we can like sneak back up and place you if you really want to be here. There are Plans Going On. Or something." She should really pay attention some more, but then people were always talking about boring stuff. Logistics this, caravan that... can't people just carry what they need? If she was Free, that's what she'd do, anyway. Everybody! Take what you need, and I'll see you over there! So much faster and all.

thoom thud thud

"Stop that! People are trying to talk up here!" That was when she noticed Crane out. "Oh, hello! Nice to see you. People have been talking a lot about you, y'know?"

"Those men are coming straight for us!"

"Oh." Um. She exchanged a look with the littlegod, and shrugged. "Should I make them go away?"

So she's sliding down the staircase banister, trying (her best!) not to giggle as the wind whips away at her face. No, no, she was Serious Immy, Serious Scary Immy. Scowlllll. Scowwwwwwlllll.

(It made her face hurt a little.)

(Oh, forget it.)

There's a crown of nails encircling her head, and she chatters to it a little as they fall, a pink-haired girl grinning at a warping maelstrom of steel as she catapults down the dying rail of the warehouse stairs. The nails... well, one probably gets the sense that it is responding to her, although it was pretty hard to hear anything at all. But then, apparently, it says something to make her... angry?

Oh for Sol's and she's leaping off the hair-thin railing, her sword suddenly out with murder on her face, sound and fury filling the air around her. There's a crunch of brick as Kestrel kicks off against the wall,  her buckler (buckler?) suddenly out before her, hair streaming like a curtain of... pink. (The tiny clinks  are her hairclips, slowly tearing free, leaving her to join the suddenly agitated swarm.) And there's a crash, as she lands perfectly (beautifully?) atop what seems to be the gang's snarling leader, nose-to-nose, her shield pressing his cohort's blade against himself. She grins.

"Oh, hello! My friend told me you were involved in ransacking his house."

There's a blade against his neck, and a cloud of angry nails buzzing around his eyes. But even Immy can't keep that position forever (and, besides, he smells. Eww), and bending with impossible grace, she reaches down and kicks against his shoulders, knocking him back as she somersaults and lands lithely on the floor.

"The problem is, the four of us have Very Important Business elsewhere right now, and we can't stop to kill everybody who might get in our way." She actually looks... upset. "So they told me I have to let you run away, if you wanted to. But please say no?" Her blade suddenly crackles, and a surge of gold warps down the length of the blade, burning off the bloodstains from before. "I mean, you wrecked my friend's little house, so it's only fair I get to wreck yours a little, right?"

[Private to GM: You rolled 8 successes using 14d10 with the White Wolf Exalted system with a target of 7 ((7,2,1,6,7,7,10,3,2,4,9,2,10,6)). So, I should start asking about stunt die for both the previous roll and this one, because I just burned 2wp. *g]

The meaty looking thug leader that Immaculate Kestrel just willfully threatened gives her a look between angry and incredulous. He bares his teeth (just as fetid as Immy would imagine them to be), and spits on the ground. "You? A little girl like you is going to slay the lot of us? Listen to her talk, boys. She's pushing me around, and brandishing that toy of a blade."

Not all the other men (and women, equal opportunity thug life!) are completely in line with his bravado. They see the nails floating all around her, and the bloodied blade that just burst into a golden aura, and take a moment to contemplate just what they are facing.

That is not to say they turn and run, but they do pause, and stop their pounding on the stairwell.

The leader catches onto their concerns, focusing on the golden glimmer. He raises an eyebrow and prove himself to be more loquacious than the typical meathead. "And you've got some tricks under your sleeve, too. That make you one of the free Anathema, eh? Golden means Sun-demon, silver means Moon-mad, and black, well you better hope he's not lookin' for you. That's what they say. Have you heard the people chanting over in Diamond Park? They want the Celestials to come and save the day. They think that'll get 'em fairness in this world, to depend on a bunch of escaped ex-slaves."

"Well, we don't really care what they want. We're just looking to survive right where we are now, and get a few kicks while we're at it. How about it? Let's have some fun." Bolstered by his confidence, several men move to surround Immy, while continuing to block the way down. It looks like they may need some hands-on convincing.

Copper Crane, meanwhile shakily brandishes his fuel bolt launcher and exclaims tremulously, "I-I'll shoot!! I'm n-not afraid to use it!!" It looks like he really will, if not stopped, and his aim doesn't look all that great...

---

OOC: well, the group collectively Willpowered it--I feel like a heel, but I thought about it and I really don't think that they'll be intimidated without real combat, given what I know about their mindset and goals.

That said, cause this isn't a hugely crucial combat I'm not going to run it like ordinary. So you can talk 'em up more or bloody them a bit, (note even if we aren't rolling Join Battle/Debate I still want rolls for attacks if you make 'em, as the damage you deal will also determine their reactions), and we'll see how they're feeling afterward.

"Oh, ok then." She dances two steps backwards, eyes wide and considering, and the swarm of nails bobs up beside he ear. "Um... so... you, the fat one... you... oh, you and you broke the forge! But it was a nice forge! I mean, why would you break it anyway, you could just open it, and then you just left it there all over... and you! Did... oh, ok, no, you were nicer than the others, so I'll only stab you later." Pause. "Or maybe let you run. Um. Do I still have to let them run?" The last bit is shouted up to the waiting 23. "They were mean at me! Said I was a demon!" But the steel and iron features were working a slow frenzy, and Kestrel nodded.

The shine is back now, a pale glimmer that warps down and across naked steel, leaving it seem... sharper? Lighter? But no, perhaps that was just a trick of the light, and now the nails were flurrying into Kestrel's clothes, tucking themselves into folds and pockets and the top of her boots. One nail slips cleanly through her top buttonhole, it's head sticking out to watch the action. She whispers to it; it refuses to budge.

Silly gods.

Um, who was it again? Oh, right. The big one! She hummed a brief ditty under her breath, stepping backward once more for a flourish and a bow. "Littlegod, this is for you."

And then she steps forward and vanishes.

flicker

It's him first, of course, the big fat snarly one, big arms big thighs (I bet he eats a lot and a lot) probably wondering where she was so she pounds her buckler into his chin, his head goes up, head goes up big neck as well big jaw big everything and her blade dances neatly into the hollow between and neck and his mouth, crunch goes the sword, crunch goes his mouth, and then crunch crunch crunch go everything between his mouth and his brain. There's a little fountain of gore and stuff--no, not much brain, oh well--at the top when her blade peeks through, and his eyes start swelling blood and things, so she slides it out and goes for the next. Ew, no, wait, his teeth had been disgusting, so the rest of his mouth probably was, too. Poor sword. I'll clean you later, ok? As an afterthought, she reached out, and stuck a nail in his head. No, not her collarpinnail, don't be silly.

flicker

Then she cut it off.

flicker

One. Now, let's see... oh, you're two, right? You broke the forge. With him. Reversing the grip on her blade, Kestrel pats the man's soft belly, and brings her hand smoothly across its bulk. There was a moment when she wondered (vaguely) if his stomach would open and spill out all over her side, but she was still between moments--the line glimmered like a string of beads in the sun, slowly thickening and running together as the mouth yawned open and prepared to vomit itself.

flicker

The second got a slice up instead, because Immy wasn't one to just repeat herself, but then the tip of the blade hooked on something deep inside and she had to pull and to pull to get it out, so it wasn't a pretty line anymore. Kinda like a drill passed through or something. Um. A small boreworm? They had all those little crystal teeth and things, right? Normally they'd only go for rock and soil and stuff, of course, but then people always said that they secretly liked to eat people, and that their very little ones would kinda tunnel up inside you and eat all the way in, and, um

flicker

it'd probably look like that, wouldn't it? Except, of course, boreworms spat out a lot of stuff, so the hole would be more... filled in, something. Like soft earth. Um. Minced stuff? Ew. She almost doesn't make the hit, blade falling perhaps a little shorter than it should have, so she makes do instead with a cut cross his back. No spinning body of doom, sigh.

flicker

And the last one, for tradition, gets his heart cut out. There is a moment, like time stitching itself back together, and she... is still again, grinning with a slightly manic glee. "Ta da!"

Then things start to explode.


[Private to GM: 1wp, activating Combo. I need to name it. Another 5m 1wp on Iron Whirlwind.

6m for Forge, +2 to Accuracy, + 2 to Damage. Damage die is 4L + 2 Forge + 2 Str + 2 OrichalBracers

Total spent: 11m, 2 wp. Personal 4/15, Peripheral 35/35, WP 7/9

17:22, Today: Immaculate Kestrel rolled 13 successes using 15d10 with the White Wolf Exalted system with a target of 7 with rolls of 8,10,8,10,3,5,6,2,7,3,5,10,7,10,9. Oh, great, it's 15 die.
17:22, Today: Immaculate Kestrel rolled 7 successes using 15d10 with the White Wolf Exalted system with a target of 7 with rolls of 6,9,8,2,9,2,8,5,4,6,7,8,8,3,6. 2.
17:22, Today: Immaculate Kestrel rolled 8 successes using 15d10 with the White Wolf Exalted system with a target of 7 with rolls of 7,7,9,3,2,6,9,9,3,10,5,5,9,4,1. 3.
17:22, Today: Immaculate Kestrel rolled 8 successes using 15d10 with the White Wolf Exalted system with a target of 7 with rolls of 2,4,7,9,5,10,4,5,8,4,10,3,5,7,3. 4.
17:22, Today: Immaculate Kestrel rolled 6 successes using 15d10 with the White Wolf Exalted system with a target of 7 with rolls of 10,10,3,6,3,2,1,4,4,4,7,8,5,5,5. 5.
17:22, Today: Immaculate Kestrel rolled 8 successes using 15d10 with the White Wolf Exalted system with a target of 7 with rolls of 7,6,1,5,7,8,10,2,6,6,5,9,9,3,8. 6. ]
This message was last edited by the player at 11:12, Tue 21 July 2009.

Twenty Three knows Kestrel. Very, very well.

So the solution to this situation has already...presented itself, in the very obvious form of Kestrel. A little bloodier than Twenty Three would prefer, but efficient enough.

And not unnecessary, with thugs of this caliber. We don't want them around. We don't need this sort here. This answer is...acceptable.

Sie reaches out hir hands towards Crane. "Let her handle it." This is accompanied by gentle pressure on his wrist - thank you, drop your hand holding the trigger - and the other hand making sure it doesn't fall.

"And turn away if you have something against blood. Actually, turn. Let's start moving, hm?"

The pressure on his wrist shifts, to direct him towards the safehouse. "Have fun, Kestrel. Don't stay out too late. You should be able to catch up with us in...oh, twenty seconds is reasonable, isn't it?"

[Private to Immaculate Kestrel: Actually, I was actually wanting to roll the damage myself... I wasn't planning on making these guys all extras, they were going to be pretty meaty (i.e. more HLs, more Stamina, maybe mutations) and the big guy was supposed to be even more powerful than the others. But since you wrote it that way I'm not really sure what to do except roll with it!

Given that, I won't give you any stunt (though this has NOTHING to do with the writing, writing is *great!*), and ask you'll actually let me determine the strength of the enemies next time. :) further explanation: mostly, my concern is trying to give a sense of danger to the riot, which I seem to be sorely failing at. Not that I didn't think you'd cut them up anyway - I just wanted more of a say on the severity. ;)]

As soon as the leader's head falls apart, and half the dozen thugs collapse in messy splatters, no one's really retained a desire to fight. The others, slipping on the blood and guts of their comrades, either whimper and backpedal toward a corner, or try to get away, beating even 23 and Crane out of the alleyway should Kestrel allow them to go.

Copper Crane lowers the launcher, follows the Sidereal and even manages to keep his lunch in until they're away from the sight of the carnage. Then... lunch is lost, in a messy splatter against the nearest warehouse wall. "Uuughhh. That was HORRIFYING. Ulp." More vomit. "...S-sorry. We can g...gghhh..." A last upheaval and then a few dry gags. "Go."

Weakly, Crane manages to heft the launcher onto his shoulder and moves hurriedly along with 23. One wonders now if he is running from the rioting, or from Kestrel, whom unfortunately for him will be joining them again.

Emerging from Copper Street toward Sunder, 23 and Crane (and Kestrel, when she catches up) find the street occupied by a large concentration of rioting workers shouting and chanting. They have a trio of catapults on wheels with them, as well, and have already started loading and releasing makeshift grenades... incidentally, in the same direction as the distant safehouse. Several seconds later comes the first of the explosions, and the crowd lets out a rowdy, satisfied cheer! The process repeats several times over, the cheers building in intensity every time! "Burn the Peace Force! Smash the Loyalists! Death to Bitch Jedevra!"

Of course the wisdom of using crude weapons against professionals, and a Fire Aspect at that, is questionable. But Twenty Three has seen very little of common sense since stepping into this region.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:20, Thu 23 July 2009.

[Private to GM: Eeeeple. Sorry. ;_; The three-die-to-one-lethal conversion... means 19L + attack successes would about auto-kill every extra I hit, since these were unarmoured. Entirely my fault.

And don't worry, there is a sense of danger to it. Immy's... very uncontrolled, and I'm horribly worried her anima is going to light up and send a TPK beacon to everyone. Not to mention her beautifully-tailored-to-melt-from-riots Limit Break. XD]

And they were running away, and they were running away away, and 23 hadn't said if she still had to let them run away, so maybe it didn't matter, but he hadn't said yes either and he probably already got kinda mad at her at the whole lockpick thing (But the door was so door! Immies don't leave doors like that untouched!) and so maybe he'd get madder if she didn't let them run, and, um...

Oh, they were gone now, anyway.

Sigh.

"They run so fast, littlegod. It's just not fair, is it?" The nails leapt, en masse, out of her pockets to nod in agreement. "I mean, if you're going to go into the trouble of picking a fight, you should at least stand around and finish the thing." Ew, there was blood on her hair. Scrub her hair, scrub her hair... no, wait, it was on her hands, too. Um. And her shirt, but only a little. And her boots. But that just looked like she stepped in applesauce, or something.

"It's only polite. You can't run away just because you suddenly decide it isn't fun anymore, right? It takes two to start a fight, and if you just skedaddle off halfway, you're going to leave someone very dissatisfied, and the word'll spread around, and then all of a sudden nobody wants to fight you anymore." Sword too, but at least Sword cleaned easy. They was another loud crackle of gold and light. She tried to do the same thing to her hair, but nothing happened at all.

(She suddenly got the feeling that she heard that speech before, about something else entirely, but...)

Bending, she picked up the cleanest cloak she could find from the dead gansterettes, and wound it about herself. There! And here's a nail for you, in your eyes. Two nails! In fact... ten nails! For everybody! "Oh, and I'm dedicating their deaths to you, littlegod. Can I sacrifice corpses to you? And whatever they're carrying, really--I don't have the time to search them and stuff, because 23 is waiting and 23 hates it when people are late."

So moments later, she's at the mouth of the alley, trying to teach the cloud of nails to whistle. It's managing to make some noises by scraping bits of itself together, and she's pretty confident it can hold a tune. It'll be a heavy, metal tune, but it'll still be a tune. "And... no, no, it's a bit higher! Like... this. Yes! And the next note? You're getting pretty good, littlegod!" Pause. "I just wish there wasn't so much shouting going on. It's making this really hard. What's going on out there, 23? And is Crane ok? He looks kinda... green." peer. "He isn't turning into a Wood aspect, is he?"

boom Peek. Ooooooh. "BURN THE JEDEVRA!" She ducked back, and grinned. "23! They're having a riot!"
This message was last edited by the player at 15:39, Sat 25 July 2009.

23 steps aside as the thugs flee out of the alley, and supports Crane (And the launcher!) as he reacts...well, normally...to Kestrel's idea of fun. "You'll be seeing more of this in the future. Bad way to get started, but that's life for you."

23's not that terribly adept at Consoling People, but first priority is to get to the safehouse, with everyone (with common sense) alive. Which means coddling him a little.


"Yes, I know they're having a riot! Idiots."

23 tries to find someone who looks like they're in charge and taps them on the shoulder. "You. Free's heard about what's going on. Good work. You're to halt your operations for..." ...how long will they need? Ten minutes, maximum. The alleys there should provide enough cover to get to the safehouse, once they're out of direct range. "...ten minutes so I can signal for a flanking assault. Move."

"W...well, the bright side is, I don't think I have anything left to vomit," Copper Crane mumbles shakily, wiping his mouth and half-dragging, half carrying his large weapon. He pales again slightly when they near the crush of people at the intersection, but relaxes somewhat when he sees they're at least somewhat more organized and focused than opportunistic thugs.

He jumps when Immaculate Kestrel appears, her usual cheerful self despite the fact she'd just finished off several gang members AND happily stuck nails in their eyes. "B-blood... in the hair... never mind. Idon'twanttoknow. The nails, though, is that normal?" Crane comments about the floating cloud, giving Twenty Three a sideways glance, but the Sidereal is already starting to meddle into other affairs.

It's a riot -- so whatever leadership Twenty Three can find is dubious. There is, however, a muscular woman in a long grey coat painted with an X in bright orange next to the small cluster of catapults, who seems to be involved in organizing their use. She has curly auburn hair and a dark blue bandanna over her head.

Bandanna-woman frowns at the person of ambiguous gender that taps her and starts giving orders. "Who are..." Then she clamps her mouth shut, eyes widening in recognition. "You're one of Free's trusted agents! Everyone! We've got one of Free's own on our side!!" There is a raucous clamoring as several workers halt their barrage to pump their fists in the air, blast their flame pieces and plasma-tongue weapons into the air, and other such crude expressions of approval.

Someone else shouts in the crowd, "HEY! Is Pink-hair with you too??"

Shouting to be heard over the din, the woman continues, "If you've got a plan, I think we can tone down the 'BOOM!'" This said as the next grenade barrage is loosed from the catapults, resulting in yet another spectacular explosion at the distant intersection (a couple hundred yards away) they've targeted. "You sure you don't need more men?? We can't give the red-armors too much time to get organized. They're setting up an experimental weapon, and we're gonna charge 'em before they can finish!" A... dubious strategy. But the rioters seem entirely too fired up to be dissuaded.

---

OOC: having you recognized as per your Backing. :)

"Oh, hush. Stop rubbing it in." Frowning slightly, she tugged upon a matted lock and twisted in idly between thumb and forefinger. "Do you know how hard it is to wash? Blood's sticky. If you can get to it wet, you can clean it off with water and luck, but dry... ew. It's like trying to remove chewing gum, but worse, because if I get gum in my hair I can see it. Unless it's strawberry flavoured or something, and then after that everything smells like strawberry so I can pretend it's a new shampoo. I miss good shampoo." She sighs. "The last I had was when we broke into that, um, that you-know-who's house, and he had strict orders not to disturb him while he was doing all kinds of nasty things, so while 23 was having fun in his library I was having fun in his bathroom. Best bath I had in ages." It was, too. The Freerunners were, well, decently organized, or at the least they could find beds and food and water and all that, but they were always so busy just running about planning this and spying that that nobody ever thought to steal a good bathhouse. Or soap. Definitely soap, ew, she thought beastpeople would have a better sense of smell. Or maybe she had an Exalted nose. Could she de-Exalt her nose?

"He even had this special solution just to clean blood off!" That went straight into her pockets, along with a rather fetching dress (a bit too long, but that was ok!) and a little silver ling-a-ding she didn't-know-did-what. Where did that go, anyway? Hmmm. Not in this pocket, this one's full of nails... back at the safehouse? But which one? "I still try to steal it whenever I find it, y'know--you'd be surprised just how many Dragons have it in their bathrooms. Smells like lilies, too." Sigh. Whereas, right now, she smelt of blood, smoke and sweat. She needed sneak somewhere and use their bathroom again. Maybe they'd get sent to steal more information? "Littlegod? Do you know where they might be some soap about this place? I kinda need some again. Or,well, do you know, Crane?" Pause.

"Oh. I never introduced you! Silly Immy. Copper Crane, this is the little god of your warehouse, um..." Pause again. "...and actually, she still hasn't told me her name. What is it, anyway? I can't keep going around calling you littlegod. Other littlegods will start popping out everywhere, and they'd all start wondering why I keep shouting at them and stuff." [Private to GM: First Upon The Thirty-Seventh, Who Crowns The Cross Of Iron And Slate. Or similar grandoise address-street-intersection name. *grin Also, I noticed Meiyi floating around in here. :P]

"I kinda invited her out into a nail so we can move her to another warehouse where she can meet other nice warehouse gods and kinda roommate or something, because your warehouse is all gutted and dying and she really can't live in a place like that. You should really take better care of your warehouses, Crane, or all your littlegods will abandon you and stuff, and then..." Hmm. Actually. What did littlegods actually do? She supposed that they kinda... held things together, and made sure things worked like they should, but then... the warehouse still hadn't collasped, had it? Or did this mean it wasn't really a warehouse anymore? She took a look. Still looked like a warehouse. Kinda. "...Bad Things Will Happen! But c'mon! 23 is Leaving Us Behind Again." Grabbing Crane by the arm, she readily pulls him along after the vanishing number. [Private to Number Twenty Three: I feel like they're on Sesame Street.]

Therefore, when someone shouts her name, she is there to enthusiastically jump up to the top of the (currently-inactive) catapults, to give an enthusiastic wave in its general direction. "It is I, the pink-haired one! Hello everybody!" Then she jumps off. Hee. Oh, hey, wait. On again! "And my name is Immy! Death to people we don't like! But stop hurting the buildings, they're getting mad!" The cloud of nails swarms up behind her to nod its assent. Back off!

Diid 23 see that? No, of course he didn't see that. He's too busy discussing. Hopefully. Probably. Right.

Wait.

"An experimental weapon?"




----------------------------------------
OOC: So, adding colour text. Black isn't really working out.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:44, Sun 26 July 2009.

[Private to Immaculate Kestrel: Oh! You're right, I forgot to name it.] You may call me The One and Thirty-Seventh Keeper of Metalworks, Southward from Betwixt Copper and Sunder. The cloud of nails doesn't seem capable of voice in this form, being a minor god with comparatively little power, but speaks straight into Immy's mind. The rather ostentatious name might just be a way to make up for the lack of influence and power.

"S-soap?! That is a chemical industry, you would normally find in Water District..." Copper Crane tries to calm himself, thinking in terms of industry. "A shame really, perhaps the allies Mister Free is courting, would have access to such. But it isn't as if we've a shortage just yet... most any decent washroom would have soap, I am sure." Whether decent washrooms would be found in the midst of Sector 5's industrial blocks, is something he seems doubtful of.

"But I, I..." He blinks at the cloud of nails. "I am a secular man, I had n-no idea the warehouse entity was displeased, and it was not m-my warehouse to begin with, I just worked there. Regular inspections meant that remnants of worshiping spirits may be found, and y-you know, that is a heresy to the monks. Though there was one that came in, on the first of every month, to give a blessing... sometimes it got delayed, but..." He isn't normally a stutterer, but Crane is still unsure whether to be utterly terrified of Kestrel, confused at her inappropriate cheer, or relieved that she is on his side, completely off her rocker or not.

Soap is beyond my purview, Immaculate Kestrel; I only know of metal, and objects of metal, and earthen walls and floor, and the sweat and straining of the workers lifting my precious contents to and fro... Keeper 137 seems despondent at this thought, and the nails undulate to form a forlorn face and wringing hands.

Finally Copper Crane finds himself relieved of Immy's company, as she bounces up onto one of the catapults followed by her nail-swarm. One of the other artillerists, a dark-skinned man with tattoos down his muscled arms and an orange stripe painted on his jacket, answers her apologetically, "Can't always have the best of aim, lil' lady, not when our point is to get noticed." Bandanna-woman squints up at Immy and continues from there. "I'm Gulda Marin. Most of the collateral damage's being done by gangs and carousers. Us laborers just don't wanna be taken lightly, or for granted. Right? Am I right?!"

A sharp shout of assent comes from the assembled crowd. Those who lack firearms wield simple weapons: lengths of wood and pipes, notched hammers and axes, chains with the locks still on 'em, bare bandage-wrapped hands with metal rings around the knuckles.

"We're fed up with false promises and evasions to our demands. And we've gotta make a show of power, 'cause they'll be hardasses right back on us!" Gulda nods sharply, and hefts a two-handed hammer high into the air. "We don't know much about the experimental weapon, just that it takes time to set up, and it could hurt a lot of people. Reason enough to stop 'em, eh? LET'S GO!" Like it or not, Twenty Three and the others seem to have an horde of workers willing to run right with them down Sunder Street, the same direction they need to go.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:30, Tue 28 July 2009.

Twenty Three's more concerned with the cloud of nails at this point than the rioters, or the...hair. A few gestures to Immy...[Private to Immaculate Kestrel: "You can clean your hair once we're safe. Tell me about your new friend."]

Unfortunately, 23's more of a bureaucrat than a war-leader. No volunteering to lead the charge here. "She won't hurt you, Crane. Relax." Unless I tell her to, which is very, very unlikely.

Though sie puts up a hand to stop Gulda. "Gulda. We need the labourersalive. Not dead. If you charge this weapon, they'll probably massacre you. How well do you know the alleys to the sides?"

"This is our home," says Gulda matter-of-factly, "we know it like the back of our hands. But we'll have to encounter the Peace Forces no matter which way we go. They're setting up a perimeter around us. We're taking this particular road out 'cause it's the first one we've bombarded with any success."

"And... we want Bitch Jedevra to see what she has wrought. See? The excitement's already starting!" Several blocks down, the intersection cleared out by the grenade barrage is now swarming with citizens, most of them unarmed and panicking, but some of them wielding more crude weapons against figures in crimson gunzosha armor. Only thirty or so gunzosha against a throng of a couple hundred citizens -- yet the armored ones are more than holding up against them!

The workers clamor to join in the fray. Unlike the panicked commoners, they had prepared for this!

"Twenty Three, sir... er ma'am..." Gulda coughs a bit uncomfortably, not particularly sure which title to use... or which gender. "Could take you down a detour if you want. But we're getting moving one way or another. We'll split and take 'em at Slate and at Marble. Coming with or no??" [Private to Number Twenty Three; Immaculate Kestrel: Marble is actually where you'll run into the main body of PCs I wanted you to join, so I'll nudge things that way if there's no preference... of course if you decide to do something totally different I'll roll with it, but if you're up to meeting more PCs you can choose to go to Marble. Just letting you know! :)]

Even as she converses with 23, many fighting workers have already split off, a large body turning left toward Slate Street, others drawn to the melee down Sunder Street, possessed by a primal instinct mixed with righteous rage. All of them shouting chants and sayings, stomping feet and clashing their weapons together. "The Council is Tyranny! Resist their False Justice! Smash the Peace Force! Defend our Rights!!"

"Awwww. That's ok, then. Besides, the bathroom soap they have in this area is... icky." Shudder. "It's like wiping raw grease on yourself, and they all smell like Horrible Things. But, but, but you have a really long name, Thirty-Seven!" Um. "Can I call you Thirty-Seven? Or maybe One? Otherwise I'd take forever to call you for stuff, and I think calling you littlegod kinda gets rude after a little while, and hey, if I call you One, I can call you and 23 both at the same time! Like, one-two-three! Or maybe two-three-seven, if you want thirty-seven, and that's much faster than your entire title!" She grinned. "You're the second person I know with a number name, too! That's... kinda cool. And Crane shares my bird-theme, too, although I've met other bird-people. Maybe it's fate, or something. 23 talks about fate sometimes. He makes it sound like this massive conspiracy web charged to make everyone do everything, forever."

Which might not be a bad thing, really, because even Immy didn't want to float out of bed on Sevensday mornings, but sometimes... she kinda did. Especially on Sevensday mornings. Or most mornings, really, because for her the days were kinda... runny together now, because the Freerunners didn't stop running on weekends, either, and even the circus used to rest on weekdays. Shows were on weekends. Maybe she should rummage through those Water peoples' packs when they came up, they might have soap on them. Or rummage through them anyway, on principle.

(But this was awhile ago, before she jumped on the catapult and began to talk)

(So this is later)

"23? They're... all going now." She's back up on the catapults again, kicking her legs against one of the wooden frames. "I guess the fastest way for us is thataway, right? But that's where all the grenades been landing, so I think they're probably all concentrated around there by now, so it's going to be im-possible to cross." And she really kinda wanted to go with them, because something inside her was whispering that if they didn't go, a lot of people were going to get horribly hurt. A lot of people would, too, if they went and all, but then they'd mostly be the other side. "But... um. We have to get across anyway, right? So we'd probably need to fight somebody at some godforsaken point, no offense Thirty-Seven, so we might as well do it with them." Swing, swing. Puppy eyes. "Right?"

[Private to Number Twenty Three: And, in this case, Puppy Eyes contain a burst of information. "Oh! She's called Thirty-Seven. Um. Or, at least, I call her Thirty-Seven. Her original name was sooooooo loooooong it'd take a minute or something to say each time, so I decided to give her a nice number name like yours! And she was the minigod of the warehouse Crane was at, and I took her on board because her old home is all out of wreck now, and isn't she wonderful? I wished I could float like that. Or be made up of a lot of nails, though probably not all the time, because that'd probably be all kinds of hurty and I'd rust in the bath. Which would be bad."]
This message was last edited by the player at 16:22, Fri 31 July 2009.

23 shakes hir head. "Immy. We have soap at home you can use. Good soap." Which 23, ah, liberated from hir...former employers, shall we call them. "And yes, this time I'll let you use some."

Carefully rationed out, since they don't seem to acquire much more. Another tale in the epic of Managing Kestrel. ...

Bah. Rioters. Uncivilised rioters...this lot has maybe a sliver of potential, though. Let's see what happens. If they're any decent we could...use them, perhaps.

"Marble. There's enough people going towards Slate. Let's go."

And a Kestrel popping up to flank them would...hopefully rout them without too many casualties.

"Don't get her wet, then." This last one is directed at Immy, for no apparent reason. "Crane. Do us a favour and don't fire that thing. Gulda, can you use a launcher?"
This message was last edited by the player at 16:26, Fri 31 July 2009.

(before!)

Thirty Seven is appropriate, comes the nail-storm's reply to Immy's babbling, which the little god weathers patiently. I will help you in what little way I can. [Private to Immaculate Kestrel: Translation, possibly some minor (like, ess 1) spirit charms to do little tricks.]

(after!)

"Wh... what?" Crane looks bewildered at Twenty Three's request, and clings to his launcher like it's a lifeline. "But this weapon is mine..."

Gulda, peering sharply at Crane, points out, "It'll do you no good if you're dragging it around like a club. And to answer your question," a nod to the Sidereal, "I'm proficient with heavy artillery. Trained to join the Peace Forces, though, ha... I never did." She snorts and holds a hand out at Crane expectantly, as if certain he will simply hand his weapon over.

Seeing he will not be winning any points here, Crane sighs heavily and passes on the fuel bolt launcher to the bandanna-woman. "...Fine. But I get the hammer."

"Ha! If you can carry it, sure." Gulda throws the two-handed weapon toward Crane, who scrabbles to catch it and nearly stubs his toe, but by gods he'd rather have a stubbed toe than no weapon at all. Meanwhile the rebel worker grins at her new acquisition, "Oh-ho! Now THIS baby packs some heat. Ammo?" Crane straightens, grumbles and hands over several rounds. "Right. NOW we're ready to go!"

And the remaining workers are quick to respond. "We're with the Freerunners' own, let's show our mettle!" A sizable amount of would-be rebels, at least three score, detour on Iron toward Slate Street. Along with Twenty Three and Immy (giving pink-hair a wide berth, those nails are sharp!) they move at a brisk pace just short of running, making noise and shouting their allegiance to Free -- which they have not earned, yet seem determined to assume!

---

OOC: will see how things unfold in the other riot-thread, to see whether you encounter the PCs or they encounter you :)

After several blocks of enthusiastic marching down Marble Street, the rioting workers plus their Freerunner 'allies' (are they really allies, or just following along?) can see more clearly the situation at the intersection currently blocked by the Peace Forces.

There appear to be two gliding chariots that broke through the perimeter, but one of them has been grounded, lying at rest at the side of the street. The other chariot has gotten away and is headed straight toward the group including Twenty Three, Immy and Crane. Several soldiers in crimson armor blast at the retreating chariot (and passengers, in the case of those forced on foot) with shock pikes that appear to have been custom altered. The group witnesses the approaching chariot take three blasts, and continue on towards them.

"Out of the way!!" hollers the pilot of the chariot, a tough looking blond woman with blue streaks in her hair. The vehicle appears to be overloaded with passengers, hovering low in the air, but still moves at least 10 times faster than a man running on foot.

The workers, interrupted in their chanting by this unexpected situation, hasten to split on either side. The pilot hits the decelerator, to ease maneuvering through the crowd, and recognizes a flash of pink hair among them. "H-hey! You--Kestrel, right?" She might have noticed Twenty Three, too, but she's too distracted by piloting to notice anything but the most obvious traits... and 23 is wearing a hood.

Immy is... well, you can't say she's being carried away. By definition, Solars don't get carried away--they carry people away. Unless the other people were also Solars o something, wherein they carry each other away--which may, of course, be one of the scarier sights on Creation. A horde of Solars singing pro-revolutionary songs, charging on towards you with their blades held high...

Fortunately for the Coils--or perhaps unfortunately--there were currently no massive horde of Solars charging through the coils.  There wasn't even a crowd of Lunars, or, say, a party of Sidereals. This was all sorts of disappointing, because the only thing left was an army of Terrestrials; but, then again, one got used to these things. They were everywhere. And, besides, Immy had heard there were bands of Celestials running around now, and that was better than nothing.

This was also better than nothing.

"Down with the Peace Force! Up with the Free!"

Immy was being carried away, but this may be because she was riding on somebody's back. (It could be one of those massive, massive men on the catapults just now. She wasn't sure. There seemed to be an excessive amount of massive, massive people around, and she was feeling all kinds of too-little, so she just hopped onto the closest ambling wall. He didn't seem to mind.) The nails had, for the moment, settled swarm-like back into the mysterious pockets of Kestrel's outfit, her hairclips having floated-and-clasped-themselves in their proper positions. ("Thank you, Thirty-seven! A praise to The One and Thirty-Seventh Keeper of Metalworks!")

Then a flying chariot comes down out of the sky. Eep. And the soldiers were shooting at it, which meant they weren't supposed to shoot at it, which meant they were probably friends, right?

And they knew her name!

"Me Kestrel! You Arashi! Hello, other people I don't know! You're going the wrong way--the riot's back behind you." Pause. "Unless you're supposed to be running away or something, and where's Irjin, and what's happening back there anyway? Me and 23 have been drafted into the Glorious Worker Revolution of Floor B23! I think he agreed because he has the same number as the floor."

Talia leans forword and murmurs to the Freerunner pilot, "So that's our contact?"  With a faint sigh, she shrugs resignedly, then calls out "Hello!  We're not running, we're detouring around a large mole."  She pauses, apparently thinking about what she just said, then continues, "It's been a rather strange day!"

Blink. Blink blink. The Peace Force is working with giant animals? She'd never heard about that before, not really. The circus used to have... oh, horses, and lots of birds, and a thousand other things, but... giant moles. Ummm. So, moles were rather small, right? So a giant mole would probably... come up to maybe her waist. Or her chest, maybe. Why were they going round that? Unless it was a giant giant mole, or something.

Maybe they were afraid of moles?

Besides, she never said they were running. Which means they were running. Something like that. "It's ok! The streets are probably clear behind us now, so you have a free run." Not run. Um. "Tactical retreat!" She grinned. "But Ara, if you have to go, can you take Crane with you? I think we were supposed to rescue him, but if you're out here it probably means Irjin's out here, and if Irjin's out that means the safehouse's out, and that means we have nowhere to take him to until you set a new one. Besides," and she leans in conspiratorially, "I think he's afraid of me."

There's still quite a bit of blood in her hair.That probably explains why.

"It is you. Immaculate Kestrel." Arashi manages to bring the gliding chariot to a halt while the workers mill about, mumbling to one another. Some of them seem to be catching on that Arashi and the others in the vehicle are actually Freerunners themselves. Others continue forward for a time, past Arashi and the others, until they realize they've dwindled to a third of their number, and impatiently turn back toward the source of the hold up.

Gulda, standing with 23, Crane and Immy at the center of the crowd, halts her advance as well. "Well I'll be damned..." Crane's eyes light up with relief at the sight of the Freerunner vehicle... until he realizes the chariot has no room for him.

A voice among the mass of workers shouts, "Can we join you??" followed by cheers and hoots. "You've got my support right here!" "Will Free himself be showing up, too?!"

Arashi opens her mouth, decides against answering the workers' hollars for now, and glances at Talia. "Kestrel is ONE of them, to be exact, we are also looking for Number Twenty Three and Copper Crane." The pilot swings her attention back toward Kestrel. "You say Crane is with you... right, there he is." At that acknowledgment the Freerunner contact gives a wilting smile. "We're supposed to link up with the three of you. Unfortunately we lost one of our vehicles; it got shot down. Leader Irjin is on foot with the others, they're going around the buildings for cover from the shock pike blasts, they'll meet us."

Finally, she sighs and says, "Sorry to say it folks, but Free doesn't even endorse this riot. If you're going to fight for your rights, this kinda disorganized chaos will do nothing for you. Especially when the folks in charge have MUCH bigger guns than you."

"I wouldn't say that," remarks Gulda with a smirk, holding up her launcher. The other workers start to look confused or disappointed. Free DOESN'T want them to riot? Could this 'Ara' really be a Freerunner?!
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:48, Thu 06 Aug 2009.

Xurizu's eyebrow raised right up as he took in the blood splattered form of Kestrel.  And we're supposed to check if she's alright?

She's gathered quite a crowd, too. he looks around.  "Arashi is right.  Being disorganised is just going to get a lot of people killed for no gain.  But with organisation, perhaps you can do something."

"The question is, what do you want out of this?  Do you want to break some heads, or do you want to make a difference?"

"But if Irjin's here, Irjin can help! He's a big gun all by himself, and he's tough. Plus I'm good with a sword, and 23's pretty tough too, and if we aren't there Gulda says they're going to start up this weird new experimental weapon thing and people are going to die. We can't let it work!" She gestures at the collected crowd. "Ara, just look at them! They've been stuck here for ever and ever, being pushed every which way by the Dragons, and now they've finally found that they can stand up! They want to break heads and make a difference, and we have to help! I want to help. Otherwise they'll never believe in us, not ever, not ever, and you'll never see them dare to raise their heads again, not for another hundred years."

"There's only so much we can do from the shadows, Ara. Now it's... now it's exploding, and we can't be the Free if we just leave them, right? Um. I can fight the giant mole for you, if you all really hate them." Pause. "If it's not too big."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:33, Thu 06 Aug 2009.

Talia drums the fingers of one hand nervously on her thigh.  "Right.  If we're doing this, we're going to need a plan.  Priority targets are that experimental weapon, and the commander.  I don't know about the mole.  The others are probably dealing with that."
She chews on her lower lip as she thinks.  "What do you know about this weapon?  If we can take control of it, that could help us gain some ground."

"We're not trying to suggest you do nothing. It's the method, not the sentiment, that the Boss has issue with." Arashi scratches her head in discomfort and tries to find the right words. "Just, you're all running crazy. Reckless, high on emotion, without a strategy." She glances at Talia thankfully. "And... look, just believe me. We want to help you. Just want to do it right."

The blonde with blue hair-streaks gestures for a half dozen of the Freerunners to leap off the chariot. They do so without complaint, revealing as they vacate their seats the presence of two wounded Freerunners lying in the back. "We're on orders to take you with us, Immy, and 23 and Crane. Workers, if you're serious about standing up and givin' em a real fight, follow us on foot, we're reuniting with Irjin and the others."

Crane scrambles into the chariot at the first opportunity. "I'm a fence, not a combatant," he mumbles to himself, dragging Gulda's two handed hammer along with him.

Gulda gazes at Arashi a little dubiously, then shrugs. "And I'm no leader, I'm just a foreman. I'll go along with the 'Runners but the rest of you folks can decide for yourselves," she says to the other workers. Then she glances back at the pilot. "Got some space? This launcher could use a mobile platform."

Arashi shrugs back, then beckons her aboard, but adds as other hopefuls surge to get a chance to hop on, "Just her. We're overloaded, with the wounded. As for the weapon--the Forcers are staying around the perimeter, so I'd assume wide range and area of effect. We thought they'd just use Twisters, but they've got something else. Deployment seems to involve the modified pikes the Forcers have... that's all I know..."

Again the workers show hints of dissatisfaction. It seems the group is starting to split up in sentiment. Some look like they'd much prefer if "Pink-hair" leads them instead, if she won't tag along with Arashi. But Arashi won't leave without Immy and Twenty Three, either...

---

OOC: Talia, Xurizu, since you probably got a glimpse of the Shock Matrix Rods before moving off you can roll to figure them out. edit - the roll is Int+Lore, since I only gave Kilani that one choice. :P But if you have an argument for a different roll I'll listen to it.

and if you didn't notice I had to abstract the Shock Matrix countdown rather than use specific seconds.. mostly cause syncing that in pbp would be a headache.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:57, Thu 06 Aug 2009.

There's a small, snapping sound. (Immy will recognise this as one of the sticks and pencils that 23 accumulates.)

"Immy, handle the situation. Arashi. Quick word with you."

And Arashi's getting off the cart here for a quick word in private, otherwise she's likely to be dragged off by 23. (It's happened before. Well, not with her, but a similar incident.) Sie holds up a hand to restrain the rioters. "I'm putting Kestrel in charge of the flanking operation. Give us half a minute."

Once Arashi's been dragged somewhere where 23 can whisper (which is probably just Off The Chariot), sie starts talking into her ear. "Now, when you see myself and Kestrel in a position of leadership over this...mob, what's the appropriate response? Obviously you throw as much doubt on my authority as possible so that they'll splinter off and the mob disperses. Do you know mobs? Mobs are reasonable. Mobs are law-abiding. Mobs are sensible. We'll have a nice controllable situation here and everyone goes home quietly."

Are you feel the sarcasm yet, Arashi?

"Do you know, now we're going to have to salvage this situation? This is a lesson, in case you didn't realise. This is not a real battle. This is preparation. How do we teach them discipline? By coddling everyone. Obviously."

Idiot.

"Did you think we had years to plan and talk and prepare and train? There is one way to win here. Blood and iron. There is no alternative. Now get back on your chariot and support us."

23 releases Arashi and turns back to Kestrel and the crowd. "We're going to hit them from the flanks and target their devices. I'm not going to say that everyone's going to survive this, or that it'll be easy, or it'll be pleasant. I can say just one thing."

23 pauses just a moment.

"After today, your children have the hope of being free. Kestrel. Proceed."

Arashi doesn't particularly enjoy the berating, and wouldn't take it if she didn't already know well enough who Twenty Three is, but at the end of it says, "Don't get all uppity with the messenger. I passed on Irjin's word, you want to do your own thing, fine. You've got less opportunistic people here but there's plenty of reports from this zone of people just plain wrecking things, killing and hurting and stealing for no reason. It's that stuff that gives power to the enemy, they'll just see you as menaces to put down and they'll largely be right."

Finally she shrugs at Twenty Three. "Well, Irjin wants us to help you live. So then we'll help you. Get on, if you'll get on. Otherwise we'll take two more who've got long ranged weapons." The mob regains some of its enthusiasm, seeing that everyone's on the same side, and still ready to fight! Many of them shout, thrust their fists or weapons up, riled up again at 23's notion of their children's freedom... or if they even manage survival, their own.

"Right, so. What do you mean by 'flanks'?" Gulda points out uncertainly.

Fzzzt... vzzzz... As the group of mixed workers, Freerunners and Exalts start to get moving again, something like blue lightning streaks nearly high enough to touch the ceiling of B23. Another, and another. Jagged streams of energy that start to go from intermittent to solid, spraying sparks as they meet toward a common peak.

---

OOC: I was really just trying to get the group together. I'm sure it looked rather silly, but I'm getting exhausted from the huge amount of threads. Anyway I'll just find another way!

As for positioning: the Riot Zone is surrounded on all sides by Peace Forces. Do you mean you'll continue down Marble, or go down another street (taking another right, to the perimeter along Glass could also be considered a 'flank', though that would take you further from Jedevra)

(Sorry to Talia and Xurizu if this ends up bouncing you right back to Earthcalm, thread.)
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:21, Thu 06 Aug 2009.

So, 23 had pulled Arashi off to somewhere and nowhere, and now everybody was staring at her. Sigh. This always happens. Kestrel, I have an important meeting, go sit over there for awhile. Kestrel, I have documents to steal, go do something that doesn't involve any noise. Kestrel, we're talking over her, so stop trying to practice picking my pockets. It wasn't like she'd keep anything she took, anyway. She wasn't mean. And, besides, what does handle the situation mean, anyway? Stop the workers? Get them moving? Do a dance routine?

Although they would make a very nice dance routine. Hmmm. Thirty, forty... fifty? People here, lined up together, singing down the street...

There were two other significantly awake strangers on the chariot.

Ooh.

"Oh, and hello! Who are you? I've seen most of the other 'runners before, and both of you are definitely not from Irjin's bunch. Unless, y'know, you just joined up or something, but then I would've heard of you. Or maybe if you were refugees from somewhere. Or you really just joined. Or..." Hmmm. Or, at least, she thinks she would've. Unless they were talking while she was doing Something Else, or thingy. 23 would know, but 23 was being all talky with Arashi. Like he was with Crane. And everyone.

She should complain about neglect and stuff, she should. They were supposed to be partners. That meant sharing things, right?

"...or, or, or, um. Oh! Or you're the Celestials that broke Water District a few days ago, and you popped up here to find Irjin and talk about Taking Over The Coils so we can finally Reach The Surface and stuff! Am I right?" Considering the amount of reasons she threw out, they'd had to be spontaneously-created-from-nothing for her not to be. "Unless you can't glow at people."

But then Ara and 23 were back, and Ara was looking all unhappy (23 did that to people), and he was telling her to go. Ok.

"Um... I. Ok. So, this way then?"

crackle crackle fzzzzzz pop!

Oh, that. Couldn't be good. But no reason to stop, right? Unless one of those blasts came down right in our path.  Leaping, she landed softly atop the hovering chariot, raising her hands to the crowd below. Oh, well. She's seen Free do this before. It can't be too hard, right?

"Workers of the Earth! Hear me! We have a mission--to save Irjin from the menaces of a Giant Mole!" Giiiiant Mollllle! No, hush, Imm, don't giggle now. "And then we're going to take back the Earth District for our own! No more Dragons--for today, the sun rises again!" Well, actually, he normally said moon, and then he'd do that entire anima thing, but then she... didn't like how her anima looked. It made her sad, and it reminded of things, and everybody said it was kinda creepy.

So, then, she began to sing.

(It is an old song; that much is certain. Those who know Old Realm will know it, or at the least understand its wrds; it is a song of praise and wonder, and supplication to the sun. Immy certainly doesn't know it herself--but then again, she never does her songs, and everyone can feel them, anyway.)

(It is a song of clean air and water; of fresh soil and beauty; and, most of all, of unrolling fields under the eye of the sun. There are no walls here; the roof is a lie. There is nothing all around you, the empty nothing of air, and the horizon stretches into forever. What is this? She couldn't have seen these things before.)

(But maybe you have, in your hearts of hearts; maybe you've seen it, once, in a dream. Maybe it is racial memory, or genetic memory, or the last remnants of a life not-quite-washed by Lethe's waters--and you, of the Exalted, must feel it twice as strong. This is the world where your shards lived, before, and Lytek wasn't so cruel as to take it all away. Can you see? Can you possibly remember?)

(This is the surface. This is what we want. This is why we must fight--or to see it lost, forever. Who are we, to live like moles? Take up your arms, and pierce the very heavens!)

Cough. Cough. Oh, god, she hasn't sung like this forever. "Come on! Sing with me!"

(Her voice is sweet and sad and absolutely untrained, but it carries a hint of the sun.)


[OOC: You rolled 5 successes using 13d10 with the White Wolf Exalted system with a target of 7 ((5,7,6,2,1,1,7,1,3,9,10,1,6)). Buying 2 successes, for a total of 7. :)

Total spent: 15m, 2 wp. Personal 0/15 (7 committed, scenelongs), Peripheral 31/35 (4 committed, artifacts), WP 7/9

I figure we're marching down towards 1-2a. I think. Also, if anyone has any plans whatsoever, please, feel free. She isns't considering anything but LET'S GO FORTH right now. ^^;]
This message was last edited by the player at 09:04, Fri 07 Aug 2009.

"One of the above, certainly," he remarks with a wry smile to Kestrel as she offers some of her many reasons for them being there.  "The Water District suggestion is about the closest, although we didn't break it," he carries on, to actually provide some useful information.

"I am Xurizu," he says softly, the shadows which surround him lapping gently.  "I'm not actually sure the giant mole was a threat.  So much as just ... giant.  And in the way."  he says as Kestrel makes her announcement, before her signing quiets his voice as he listens.  Listens to a song he doesn't know how to place.  Listens to something beautiful.

Then his mind returns to more practical concerns, as the miners start to sing.  Like just what this shock matrix was.  And more importantly, how it might be disrupted.  Lessons of essence mechanics imprinted by the artificial teachers from the floor of wood come flooding back.  Little pieces of memory representing solutions to a hundred and one problems of directed essence design dance before Xurizu's eyes...
[Private to GM: 20:13, Today: Ledaal Xurizu rolled 2 successes using 8d10 with the White Wolf Exalted system with a target of 7 with rolls of 7,2,4,4,5,8,6,1. Int+Lore+2 sux. - 4 sux for shock matrix dicipheration]

"I wasn't even in Water District." Talia mutters.

And then Kestrel begins to sing.

Talia is tired.  She is wounded.  She has risked her life far more times today than she is comfortable with.  And more than that, she is, at heart, a stubbornly practical woman.  Once upon a time, she created beatuiful things for their own sake, but that was taken away when she Exalted.  She learned how beauty could be used as a tool, as a weapon.

But when Kestrel sings, she remembers.  Crown remembers, a wide world, in which beauty could exist for no better reason than "because".  And she decides, maybe that is something worth dying for.

OOC:
I may have just overlooked this/gotten confused, but where are the shock matrix rods and how many soldiers are around them?
11:50, Today: Talia Zerith rolled 1 success using 6d10 with the White Wolf Exalted system with a target of 7 with rolls of 6,4,6,8,2,6. Int+Lore
This message was last edited by the player at 16:02, Sat 08 Aug 2009.

Immaculate Kestrel's beautiful song, though unfamiliar to the workers, still strikes very close to home. It echoes the desire that has brought them to this point, defying a lifetime of meaningless toil for the sake of mere survival.

Freedom. Pure and undiluted Freedom, far removed from sticky politics and anti-Anathema sentiment, independent of the artificial light and enclosed space that has caged them for generations. Though they do not perhaps fully realize it, they -- the common folk of the Coils -- have waited centuries to be guided from the shackles of forced labor, suppressed information and tightly controlled resources. The light of the Sun, the Moon and the Stars would elucidate their minds and senses, long shadowed by the reality built for them by their keepers.

The Dragon-blooded! They are the enemy, the uncaring taskmasters standing in their way!

And for once, the workers are united by this singular, and powerful message. Though they are still eager, teeming with righteous rage, they march confidently together, trusting their pink-haired inspiration will lead them to triumph once and for all. Even Arashi, doubtful as she may be, finds herself admiring Kestrel's innocent strength, the purity of her sentiment. Copper Crane, briefly forgetting his vomitous disgust for Immy's carnage, raises his voice with the chorus, alongside Gulda with her launcher mounted squarely on her broad shoulder.

Thus the chariot carrying Arashi, Crane, Gulda, the Exalts and wounded advances at pace with those on foot, toward the Peace Forcers blockading Glass and Marble. The crimson-armored soldiers aim their altered shock pikes toward the ceiling, blue and black jade rods attached where the spearheads should be, emitting solid arcs of energy that join the lattice of blue lightning forming high above...

[Private to Ledaal Xurizu: The Shock Matrix Rods are special blue/black jade devices placed onto a shock pike, replacing the standard shock pike head. They may draw from the battery of the weapon, or from the wielder's Essence if applicable. The Rods, if calibrated in sync, can discharge an area of effect within the entire perimeter they are deployed. What exactly this effect entails is difficult to surmise, you aren't sure if it is lethal or not.]

[Private to Talia Zerith: The Shock Matrix Rods are special blue/black jade devices placed onto a shock pike, replacing the standard shock pike head. They may draw from the battery of the weapon, or from the wielder's Essence if applicable. This is all you can surmise of them. You assume the individual Rods must work together somehow, though, from the displays you are seeing above.]

---

OOC: Immy's song -- total 9 sux after +2 stunt. With her App (5) and people's motivations (which largely involve freedom/escaping Coils) it is probably much higher.

Kestrel, Twenty Three, Talia and Xurizu will get a prompt back in Operation Earthcalm. Please post more from there.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:30, Sun 09 Aug 2009.