TheAmishPirate

Fellowship: The Heart

The word is whoop!

It’s the only word suitable for riding atop an infant train that’s just clobbered the monster that was going to eat you all, right up until your best friend put on a masterclass of style and fire and magic and ran it through with a flaming sword of concept. “Nice one, Ailee!” she cheered, and nice one?! It was more than nice! Way more than nice! But she was giddy with victory, and not even that little problem could bring her down.

Which was the precise moment her heart sank, and dragged the rest of her down with it.

Jackdaw clung to Sasha’s smokestack to keep from falling off. No. Not here. It wasn't fair. It wasn't! “H-hey! Everyone! We’re not...um, at the bottom of the stairs, there’s-” And where there ought to have been words, there was cold. There were arms hugging herself. There was water, pouring from her mouth, hissing into great clouds of steam on Sasha's back. And even that, she knew she hadn’t said right.

They had to get past. If they could just go a little further, a little past her reach, they could escape. (For a time. No one truly escapes her. No one.) In a daze, she slipped off Sasha’s back, and started rummaging through the wreckage of the battle. Mostly rubble, torn pages, wreck and ruin, but still! Not all was lost of this place. Not yet. And that was their hope.

Libraries weren’t the word for the big room where you hold all your books. They were so, so much more.

[Activating Let Me See That:
• What was this made to do, and how do I use it or break it?
• What's wrong with this, and how might I fix it?]

Breathless Dead

The sudden appearance of the Admiral of the Grand Armada, alone, without any warning or fanfare was almost enough to get Dolce’s mind off his wife.

Almost.

“That’s Admiral Odacer.” Vasilia said, stunned. “That is the Admiral Odacer.”

“That is her face on the shuttle.” She won’t even look at me.

“Why is she here? How is she here? We didn’t miss a shuttle, did we?”

“This was the only other one to land.” Was she expecting backup? Was I supposed to have gotten here sooner? What did I do? What didn’t I do?

“On third thought, why and how is she here? She has ten thousand ten thousands and wastes firepower on fireworks. Now she shows up alone and unannounced?”

“I...I’m afraid I don’t know why. Or how.” I couldn’t stop Jas’o. I didn’t bring an army. I let myself get distracted. Now look what’s happened.

“Well! We can’t just let her do whatever it is that she’s doing for whatever reason she’s doing it, don’t you think? We ought to stop her. Now.”

He startled. He couldn’t help himself. Sorry, sorry! “Yes. Yes of course we should.” Too much was falling too fast, and his mind raced a thousand ways every second, and all it did was pull him farther apart when she needed him here. “...how, exactly?”

Useless. Utterly useless.

[That’ll be a 1 + 4 + 1 = 6 on Look Closely. Going with Tell me about “Admiral Odacer.” What are they doing? What will they do next?]

Breathless Dead

“You must be a riot at parties, darling.” Vasila parried a slicing shadow, taking no care to hide her shuddering breath. Keep him talking. Let him gloat his way right into an opening… "But if you must know, there is one good thing I’ve done with this life of mine.” She danced closer, leaping from gap to gap, a wall of flashing steel against the unyielding dark. She pressed in, but could not push it back. It cut her, but she did not feel it. And there, where no one who mattered could hear, she breathed a bitter whisper.

“I hitched my wagon to better people.”

White flashed behind the dark.

The priest fell like a limp sack.

The shadows disappeared, revealing her faithful Dolce. Here for her, as swiftly as if she’d called for him.

And she turned away. At once. The little she’d seen - he was already moving to her, his eyes, oh his eyes! - was enough. No more. Please. Don’t make her see him. Don’t let him see her. Not like this.

“Captain Vasilia, are you alright?”

Captain. Captain. Her breath caught in her throat. She grabbed hold of it, and forced it past her lips. “I’m...fine, dear. Looks worse than it is. Smoke and mirrors, yes?”

He said nothing. She felt his gaze searching her, looking anxiously for every little detail she would give him, and so she gave him nothing. Nothing at all. No signs, no orders, no invitation to ask a single question more.

If she really was his Captain, then she would have silence.

[Rolling to Finish with Sense: 6 + 6 + 1 = 13]

Breathless Dead

“You cannot be serious.”

“Was I joking? How strange, I don’t even recall the punchline. Did I say anything brilliant?”

“If you ever do, I’ll let you know. That shipment of plating was due to expand the solar shielding of the worker’s barracks. We could have kept thousands safe through the blistering season.”

“And the new plover models will keep all of us safe through all the seasons.”

“What does that matter if they’re burnt to a crisp in a month?!”

“You wound me-”

“Someone has to.”

“-as if I gave it away for nothing. When next you walk the lines, and you see the water barrels filled to overflowing, I’ll be happy to accept your thanks at your earliest convenience.”

“Is that what passes for a fair bargain, these days?”

“It is the only bargain, and I grow weary of your ingratitude.”

“Vasilia-!”

“I beg your pardon?!”

“...your Ladyship.”

“...you forget yourself. And you forget how hard I have worked for our people. If you had endured the...negotiations I’ve endured, you would not be so quick to judge.”

“I only tell you what I see. And what I see is that many won’t survive the summer.”

“So figure something out, tell me what’s needed, and I will get it for you. All I ask in return is the common courtesy not to second-guess my efforts.”

“...very well.”

“Very well, who…?”

“Very well. Your Ladyship.”

"That's better."

******

A clawed hand shot out and caught the priests’ mid-gesture.

And she leaped.

The two of them flew through the air, set free by the workings of her grav-rail, and she slammed his back against the hull of the shuttle. Gripped by book and by hand, he had nowhere to look upon but his handiwork. Captain Vasilia’s eyes went pitch-black, weeping rivers of steaming night from frozen blue irises. Every movement, every twitch of her limbs saw phantom claws digging into her. Fighting her. Straining to pull her back.

And still, she fought. And still, she laughed.

“Oh ho! You do know how to emote! Brilliant!” She cackled and wept. “I’m sure with a little practice you’ll get the hang of it.”

[Damaging Vasilia’s Wisdom, paying the price of her heroic persona.]

******

Dolce could not speak. The king was talking, but he could not listen.

Vasilia...what’s been done to you? Why do you-

No, no! Why are you still fighting? Run! Get out of there! Come back to him, please! Together, they could win over this army, and then the Ceronians could take care of everything else . Don’t- don’t do this! You don’t have to!

She disappeared behind the shuttle. He could hear her, faintly, from here. She was alive. She was on her feet. But...but her voice...

He bowed his head to Jas’o. “Greetings, o King.” He couldn’t get his words to sound...to sound full. “A royal blessing is powerful, yes…” He couldn’t get his heart into it. “Though, you are royal yourself…” His heart was over there, behind the shuttle. “The recipient of loyalty does traditionally stay with the soldiers for rites…” His thoughts were to his own prayers. “According to theory and tradition.” Hermes was for healing, or maybe Hera for her care, but, his job, he had to win over the Ceronians… “It would be wise to remain, o King.” What should he sacrifice? Where was he to find a sacrifice now?! “It would be wise...yes?”

[That’s a 7 on Talk Sense.]

Fellowship: The Heart

The staff whipped back into Jackdaw's hands, and at her whisper grew to the size of a tent pole. She drove it into the ground behind them with both paws, bracing it and herself against Sasha's back.

"I - nghhh! - second the motion!" She shouted over the din of battle.

[Helping Coleman to offer Hope: That's now a 5 + 2 + 2 = 9]

Breathless Dead

Dolce helped Vasilia out of the muck, and breathed a quiet sigh of relief to see murder in her eyes. Murder was good. Murder meant she was unhurt, save for her pride. He could help that later-

And that was when the air split apart, and a terrible sound brought him to his knees. Loud, impossibly loud, threatening to tear him apart. His ears rang. His vision went white. All of it, a terrible harbinger of the world that slowly returned to focus.

The cat was gone. Long gone. Off to take Redana away from them, because they couldn’t stop her.

A man with a grim book and an aura to match stood over him. A priest of standing high enough to crush them beneath his god’s favor.

There was Alexa. Thunderbolt through her stone heart. Fallen, and not rising.

Here he was. A little sheep with a host of impossible jobs, and the doom of his dear friends should he fail.

“I say!”

Vasilia soared before him, one hand stretched out behind her. Expectantly. At once, he put his sword in her hand[1], and she swung out in a wide arc, catching the book’s chain and batting it away. Again and again she struck, keeping the dreadful book at arm’s reach, until one precise thrust caught the chain around her blade. The two of them pulled, book and duel hanging in the balance, neither giving an inch. “This is such a coincidence.” She flashed him a wild grin. “I’m going to need you to answer some questions too.”

...if they weren’t in a fight, he could have kissed her on the spot.

“Dolce! The Ceronians!”

Hrm? Oh! Yes. Yes of course. They had to stop Jas'o. That was the mission. That was...that was his job now. His only job. Wasn’t it nice, to have so much less to do? So much easier to focus. So much less to get distracted by. Just do his job, do it well, and all will be well. That was it. That was...all there was to it.

So. So he’d best get on it right away, and stop his dawdling.

Dolce disappeared into the underbrush without another word.

[Crossing Dolce’s sword off his gear, giving it to Vasilia. That’s a 9 on Keep Them Busy, Vasilia stays behind and they are now Working Alone.]

*****************************

Ceronian General!

What is your name, actually?

Whoever you are, you smell the cream-colored sheep long before you see him, which is approximately when he steps out from behind your next-door neighbor and bows low from the waist. You’ve heard of servants fading into the background until called for, but perhaps that wasn’t always a figure of speech. “Good sir, where may we find offerings to Zeus suitable for the occasion?” Even he couldn’t speak without a tremble in his voice. A big day for all of them. “Might I recommend spirits of triumph, brewed from the bounty of your harvest? They are a favorite of Lord Zeus’.”

You’re still not sure where this fellow came from, or why Jas'o might keep such an odd priest in his retinue, but it is a momentous day[2]. And it would be a foolish army that marched their way out of retirement without the proper offerings.

What do you do?

***

[1]: He was a professional, and they had practiced similar maneuvers dozens of times. He would not say if he still felt tempted to give her his hand instead of his sword. That was intelligence suitable only for his Captain.

[2]: If you tried to count the number of times a priest were to coincidentally appear on a day of great happenings, you’d run out of numbers before you were done. It’s a staple of theatre and song for a reason, you know.

Breathless Dead

The greatest traditions of the Starsong typically didn’t involve getting sidelined by a crashing shuttle bent on vehicular manslaughter, but most would chalk that up to opponents who weren’t trying hard enough. This one? Imperial as they were, this one was new.

Vasilia slowed to a halt just beyond the landing ramp. What greeted her was not the sight of another wave of phalanxes crashing down upon them, or the impossible workings of an esoteric to tilt the field of battle, but a single cat, collared and chained.

Definitely new.

She sheathed her glaive and drew her saber, adopting a fencer’s ready stance, which conveniently concealed her other hand as it drifted to her pistol. “You know, I think you’ve missed some of the finer points of arriving…” She paused pointedly to consider the garish wreck. ”Fashionably late?”

******************************************

Dolce emerged at Vasilia’s side, covering her as she exchanged gear and barbs. He tried to take in the shuttle, the sole member of the landing party, any alternate angles of approach, the forming Ceronians, his wife, a bit of the sky while he was at it, but there was just...it was the bells, you see. His eyes kept darting back to the bells. So many of them, all over her, on every limb. Impossible to move without a cacophony of ringing. What was she being punished for? Was sending her in alone a part of it? And if she was sent against them, then…

A terrible, aching pang echoed through his heart. And he hoped - oh, how he hoped he was wrong. That perhaps they could all leave together safely, and this cat could go home in glory, and that would be that. Shouldn’t he know of a god to pray to? Wasn’t there someone who could make it so?

But no names came to Dolce that day. No prayers passed his lips.

All he could do was stand beside Vasilia, and await the worst.

Breathless Dead

Vasilia bit back a stream of deeply unladylike and entirely appropriate expletive.

Did you know? Interrupting a prayer was the worst kind of poor manners; the kind that could get you smote or worse. Who are you, to knowingly interfere with the gods' conversation? The dealings of Olympus? Are you so bold as to assume that Athena does not wish to hear this prayer? Do you presume to make a decision for her?

Fine. Fine! This is how they were to fight, then. She flipped her glaive off of her back and twirled it to a ready position. “Back her up, as best as you can.” She ordered Galnius. “We’ll keep the phalanx from swallowing you up. Dolce?”

“With you.” His sword was already in his hand.

As one, the two of them darted from the shuttle, taking a wide arc through the surrounding orchards, behind fences and hedges, flitting from cover to cover as they made their approach.

Fellowship: The Heart

"Hey! Hey!"

Judgement's mighty sleeve gets the tugging of a lifetime.

"Can we experiment on that thing first?!" Using a paw to point would mean one less paw holding onto Ailee, and right now Jackdaw needed as many paws as possible (pawsible? is that a word?) holding onto Ailee. So she jerks her head furiously towards the Wreck, and oh no bad idea bad idea the dizziness nearly floors her all over again.

Fellowship: The Heart

The word is aughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

That’s it. That’s all the words she has. If you want something better, ask someone better. The amount of things happening has only gotten more happening, which was the opposite of what she wanted. And now they’re sending the teachers back after her even though they kicked her out! Shouldn’t that mean no more homework? Shouldn’t it?!

So she did the one thing she knew how to do, that was - generally - good for emergencies like this one:

“Aileeeeee!” She stood up. Wobbled. Fell in the muck again. Pulled herself back up. “We need a way out, not more angry!!!”