Scene #5401: Sun and Ice

Owner	Pose
Bloody Revelations	he Mother's Hearth, despite what its name might suggest, is much less accessible than Whitewall. While the latter is clearly a centrally vital area of cosmopolitan relevance to the Northern reaches, the more pretentiously titled Manse that multiversals now seek is all the way out in the middle of a frozen tundra called the Ice Plains, and no natural warpgate has found itself especially inclined to place itself close. That said, it could certainly be worse. At the height of summer, the vast snows and frozen earth have softened to a sort of boreal marsh, filled with hardy trees and freshwater lakes, where migratory birds and seasonal insects have come out in full force, as well as the odd lemming, hare, or even bear or elk. The damp greenery and frequent ponds probably won't last much longer, but it's far better than tolerating a trek through frozen wastes of this size. The destination is unmistakable, though, and as nothing but a Solar's sensibilities. One might have expected a rustic village or permanent camp, but the place is visible a ways off as a huge dome of white marble, surrounded by eight minarets of the same topped with gold, all gleaming in pillars of brilliant sunlight that spear through the otherwise steely clouds. Unlike Whitewall, no significantly focused holy power can be sensed, but the land itself exudes magic from every stone and shrub, and the ambient temperature rises several degrees just drawing close, no doubt fitting for a place titled after the hearth. It seems that most of the population isn't inside, though. Sprawling for what looks like a solid mile or more around the dome, is a veritable sea of tents, built of hide and canvas and birch, dotted with scores of columns of rising smoke from cooking fires. What must be thousands of tribesmen have gathered here, and recently at that, judging by the herds and oddly modern wagons still coming in, though they hardly look the unwashed savages one would assume. For one, even at a cursory glance, the camps are set up in a very rigid and orderly fashion, radiating out from the dome in clean spokes that allow free movement all around the grounds. The men and women on the premises are also relatively well-dressed (in the highly pragmatic sense), and stocking up on war supplies predominantly of worked steel and bronze, as well as fairly complex siege engines, comparable to one of the classical crusades. They have a crisp and orderly air about them, like professional soldiers merely dressed in furs for the sake of it, and even the children dutifully run errands back and forth, gathering water, whetstones, rations and ammunition. Occasionally, someone who looks like they might be an engineer makes an appearance to inspect something or other, and a handful of very elderly women can be seen milling about, granting blessings here and there. There's no real doubt that they'd have convened for something exceptionally important. The Bull, or at least some of his Circle, are most likely here. Unfortunately, it may be a very 'complicated' time to try and jump him if one so chose.
Starbound Flotilla	"So we're just here to negotiate?" "Here to hear his side of the tale, matey" "Worried. Well I hope that leads to negotiation." "Unlikely." "Floran think, be optimisssm!" "Hmph." "I for one want to negotiate just to spite Albert." "Well, whatever your motivations are, at least your intentions are pure. How shall we approach? What local flavor of approach might grant us attention, peace, and audience all in one?" "Why asssk?? You, Flotilla diplomat, idiot." "It was rhetorical. Of course I know how to do this." The Starbound Flotilla have come here in a way that takes some advantage of a few of their abilities. For example, they've arrived in a pretty heavy truck of sorts, quickly built elsewhere, though the elaborate rolling triple-tread wheels seem like an odd choice, as does the elaborate wooden platforms aboard it. It's at least double the width of a normal truck, and contains an entire interior area like an RV or a food truck, where those who asked for a ride can find one. For another example, they've found a way to leverage another ability of theirs in gaining the specific attention of one of the Bull's own: Their truck is visibly loaded down with weapons. Not weapons brandished and ready to fire, but swords, axes, shields, spears, and other suchlike, mounted on racks, some glowing visibly. Yes, the Starbound Flotilla come as what they are: Industrialists and traders. The kind who would instantly get the attention of a leader, directions to administrators, passage through gates, or other such steps on the way to reaching the Bull's allies.
Septette Arcubielle	Septette trudges steadily towards the outer perimeter of the camp, her clawed feet sinking deep into the boggy ground with each step. The Ariadne's Thread set her down a few hundred feet away, but the wet ground is already soiling her metal talons. She's visited more pleasant places, to be sure- but she is here for a reason. All plans and thoughts regarding the Bull lead back to a simple fact: 'need more information'. The opportunity cost of acquiring that information is greatly less than the potential cost in lives of choosing the wrong side; even if she isn't particularly specialized at information-gathering, she reasons it would be distinctly sub-optimal not to do so. A trio of small drones fly hundreds of feet overhead, mimicking the erratic movements of birds as they visually analyze the encampment for tactical and logistical information. If she were a reasonable person, Septette would hail the camp's periphery guards immediately. Unfortunately, she is neither of those things. The little machine pulls her cloak tight, looks straight ahead, and trudges towards the center of the camp along one of the spokes without acknowledging or even looking at the soldiers. In the more sociable setting of the teahouse, she moved and acted much like a human who only happened to be made of grotesque metal, even expanding and contracting her ribcage in a mimicry of breath. Here, such trifles are cast aside: everything from the uncanny precision of her movements to her loping, mechanical gait exudes menacing inhumanity. Even inside the camp, she waits to be greeted or stopped before acknowledging the people around her: how long it takes for one of them to work up the courage to do so is, itself, a kind of information-gathering.
Miari	Miari's joined the Concord efforts after hearing the news of what's going on. An opportunity to meet the Bull of the North is intriguing, if risky. The fact that it's taking place in an alternate Creation just makes it better. She's chosen to take a path that is clear of bugs and yuck. That being... through the air. "Bzzzzzzzeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!" Rings a strange insectile voice that nevertheless chimes like a bell. "The land weeps, creatures guzzle the tears..." Of all the Agatae that Miari could have summoned, hers apparently fancies itself a poet-to-be. Though given the typical mindset of the kin to the beauteous, horse-sized wasp she's astride, clear above the treeline on approach to the manse... it might be quite normal for the thing. She's bundled up in ordinary furs with fuzzy lining and trim of no particular locale. Miari comes in low and nudges the Agatae to slow its flight, so as to not spook those she's come to speak with. When her demon mount finally lands near the others gathering, she neatly slips off its side and down to the ground. "Wait here, Bell. And remember not to antagonize anyone... which includes no eating their dogs or any other animals." She's quick to poke the Wasp's side keenly and tromp over towards the others. "Mh?" Plenty of unfamiliar faces for her, but she astutely burns them into her memory quickly and adjusts her clothing. She carries no visible weapon... but the young woman's smile is confident beyond her years. "I have but one piece of advice. The Northerners are not much for pomp and circumstance. They like their feasting, their fighting, their friends, and their independence, and it's hard to say in which order. Do not show weakness, but at the same time do not insult or belittle."
Staren	Cold, marshy, and buggy. Staren's glad he's wearing sealed armor. Riding a flying broom, he avoids even having to trudge through it. He lands before they get too close, though, to avoid letting them know he can fly. He nods to Miari's advice. He hopes someone good at talking is here...
Tomoe	Tomoe was on edge but there was the hope there could be some way not to resort to violence, yet given how Exalts tended to be? She didn't hold up much hope she was shocked to see Pavo willing to do something for free. The whole issue with Divine Right must have been a damn big thing for them. She was here not visible armoured but in armour and looking all the world a Fae Blooded. Though any with the power to sense her? Would find she's very much something else, she's hoping they can get something going on the lines to getting people talking rather, than fighting but she knows that will not be easy. Tomoe also had flown in till she got to the outskirts and had walked the rest of the way. She pauses at Miari staring at her ride for a moment but hears what she said. The towering salamander nods to her. "So they like to cut to the chase? I hate having to do the whole social song and dance thing if there's a way to get to the quick of it. Lets see what they have to offer and ... why are there /always/ Mosquitos? At least there's no infernal black flies..." She looks to Miari for a moment. "The name's Tomoe the Iron Lily, or just Tomoe."
Alucard Tepes	Alucard is a little late to the party, it seems. He doesn't say why. Bundled up in warmer clothing like he was the last time he came here, with that hood pulled up, he rides slightly behind the rest of the group, astride a normal horse. For the time being he remains quiet, as he's no diplomat. But he's also looking to make sure he doesn't sabotage any negotiations that might be being made. He's as curious about this as the others.
Toph Beifong	The discussion about this topic on the radio had caught the interest of a certain earthbender, and well... if people need help, then it's wise to check out. Which means preparation. Another person arrives at the edge of the camp, clad in a very official looking set of clothes with a Paladin crest on her chest. Despite the weather her feet are still bare though as she makes her way towards where the other elites are, with what looks like a big book in her hands. While she doesn't know all of these people, the people she are familiar with, like Tomoe, Staren and the Flotilla members earn a non-formal salute of one hand. "Heya people." The others? Toph doesn't turn her head towards them, though she does narrow her eyes slightly at Septette. "Is there a plan to this?" she inquires.
Bloody Revelations	It sure is a motley crew gathering at the metaphorical gates, but then the crew already there isn't exactly quite uniform. Despite the kind of rustic and mildly chaotic samey-ness that comes from so many bleating animals and clanking tools, there are a certain number of foreigners of stature, educated machinists and a very good number of completely non-human workers sprinkled about. It is, in fact, one of those that checks Septette near the dome, though the soldiers have been eying her for quite a while. Seemingly made of a singular piece of stone, with carved runes like elaborate tattoos around his body, bearing six arms and gems as eyes, it's probably triple her size, though, not /overtly/ threatening. "Beware that you tread upon sacred ground to the Icewalkers. Mother Samea is the ruler of this temple, and you will observe her laws. They are very simple. Do no harm to others, offer aid to those in need, and respect their customs and hospitality. Do you understand?" Aside from the fact its voice is like shifting trucks of gravel, the fact it chose 'their' cleanly pins it as outside help. Possibly summoned and bound outside help. Who knows. The Flotilla have an easy (enough) time plying their trade, as repeated questions as to the purpose of their visit mostly just lead to being lead further in by a contingent of cavalry apparently riding moose. Apparently, the locals obey those general laws as well, as the overall level of suspicion itself is pretty low; nobody expects any foreigners who know of the Mother's Hearth would dare attempt to spill blood on it. They quickly arrive at one of what seem to be four entry passages in the cardinal directions, which seem to lead to long, warm halls replete with hundreds of doors, carved out of solid, unblemished white stone. Here there are a number of more elite looking warriors, but also milling about, clearly the old and infirm, and their families' children and grandchildren, doing little more than hobby work and telling stories. Past the ranks of hard men with ready weapons, it's almost like a comfortable little sunbathed retirement home, though there's nothing little about it. Only one more person stops them there, but it's a young woman in somewhat shamanistic robes, clearly responsible for the Hearth and not the army, judging by the number of totemic charms jangling from many wooden and bone beaded necklaces. Effectively, though, she tells them pretty much the same thing as Septette is, before they're allowed to go inside. The path the giant truck clears is probably anyone else's best bet to slip in as well, but despite the sheer density of military power, there seems to be no overt danger. At least, not yet.
Septette Arcubielle	Ah, 'laws'. And in such a neat and easily-abusable structure! If she had any real compunctions about lying or oathbreaking, Septette would probably be performing mental acrobatics about how giving aid to the walled city could circumstantially overcome the invocation against doing harm- but as it is, her dead-eyed stare softens to a warm and sincere-looking expression as she locks gazes with the creature of stone, and she replies cheerfully: "I understand and accept these strictures. You are bound by them as well, yes? Then please aid me: I seek to meet with Mother Samea, as an emissary of a foreign land. Tell me, is such a meeting possible now?" Regardless of the answer it gives her, she'll continue on her way to meet up with the other outsiders at the white-walled temple. Her demeanor is much changed to one that is softer and more personable: an ominous mien has gathered all the information it will for now, and there is little reason to attract further attention to herself at the moment. Her trio of drones swoop down and begin to scout the building's interior, instead; there is only a slim chance that its layout will ever become relevant to her purposes, but she is not one to skimp on such precautions. On the off-chance that things go very poorly in the meeting, she'll need to know chokepoints and multiple escape routes ahead of time. Full armies of mundane soldiers threaten Septette little- but a press of hundreds of bodies can slow a hasty escape, and she doesn't know if the same can be said for her friends. By the time she catches up with her motley (and dubious) allies inside, her cloak has been straightened and talons cleaned of unsightly mud, and she wears a harmlessly lazy smile. "Quite the bunch we've got here, I see. I do hope none of you are given occasion to be happy for my company, but there were some of you I couldn't let you come here alone in good conscience."
Alucard Tepes	Alucard is watching his manners, yes. He's also got most of his power suppressed here, so he hopefully doesn't raise any eyebrows. He nods to the warning given to them by the woman, confirming, "I understand." He'll dismount somewhere, so he can walk into whatever structure they'll eventually be led to. Hopefully his mount won't end up on the menu between now and the time they leave...
Tomoe	Tomoe Says "We're trying to find out what he wants, Toph. I'm hopeful we may be able to tlak or at least get the other side of the story here." She looks to Toph for a moment seeing how much she's changed but soon they meet someone and she listens to the local laws. "I understand, and will obey them." She will move a head she'll keep up with the party and she looks to the rest of the gorup but also taking intrest in Miari as she'd never seen her before the starboungerts get a look for a moment and Septette also is listned to. "We shouldn't keep them waiting now should we?"
Miari	"Miari of Melekin. A sorceress and scholar." The young woman in furs responds, tossing some stray hairs over a shoulder. "And I understand. My thanks for her hospitality." She nods respectfully, but the strangeness of the beings in place here do not seem to bother her much... Sorcerers. Politely folding her hands in front of her, she moves to stroll on in... "How rare to find a demesne of Solar aspect... rarer still, someone capable of placing a worthy manse on one. The workmanship is impressive!"
Starbound Flotilla	The giant truck does indeed clear a path. Not, you know, ramming through or anything, but giving an easy passage to the dome because gates have to be swung wide for the double-sized truck. George, the truck's driver, passes on through, seeming to have agreed. "I promise I'll curb back to, eh, ten percent disrespect." "Floran promissse not bite. Cannot promissse about nibble or hug." "Peaceful. Thank you for the kind terms of entry. We will respect them." "Hmph. Fine." "Aye. No broadsides in the harbor, we know." "A civilized creed. I am happy to see it, and happier to follow it." Onwards and inwards. The Flotilla are probably being properly directed now, so they'll head towards whatever site seems most effectively appropriate for reaching the solar presence here. The eponymous Mother of this Hearth, perhaps? The Flotilla presses on, emerging from the truck if the passage requires it. Biteblade calls down from the roof, hanging upside down over a railing, calling out, "Floran alwaysss happy for have Ssskeleton Friend! Not need fight for that!" And then she wavewaves to Toph! "Hiiiii rock friend!" "Mr. Alucard. A pleasure to have you with us again." Moonfin asides, and then tilts his head to Miari. "You have some expertise in matters such as these. Can you describe to me the function this structure might serve?" He emphasises the word "structure" with a look that seems to wordlessly express, "Well it would be nice, but what if it wasn't so gaudy."
Toph Beifong	The large stone creature earns a nod of Toph's head, all while she examines it as best as she can with her feet. Sacred ground... that makes this a bit annoying, but also easing. Be nice, don't be rude. That's something she can deal with. As usual Toph is unarmed, only carrying her radio and a large Braille book with her. The woman in the shamanistic robes, now she earns Toph's attention as she turns her face towards her and clearly observes her. And the tips that Miari gives seem to be decent. No pomp and circumstance, that's something that Toph can appreciate. Simple people, simple to deal with. Septette earns a slight snort. "I don't know you, but as long as we keep the laws here and make sure that nothing serious is going on, I'll be happy. Then Toph turns her attention to Alucard, recognising his voice from the radio. "You're the new guy, aren't you?" Upon hearing Biteblade she can't help but smile a little though, waving back. "Heya Biteblade! What's up?"
Bloody Revelations	BS or not, the creature blocking Septette's way seems to acknowledge at least her verbal consent to following the rules, and steps aside. It may be supernaturally barred from actually deciding not to, if someone swears by the few laws there are here. "The Mother of All Tribes is inside, within the central courtyard. Raneth of Diamond Hearth has left already with Crimson Antler, and so the Golden Bull's audience with her will conclude shortly. Mind your tongue, ambassador." The drones can get inside the halls easily enough --they're pretty big-- but swiftly encounter the problem of slamming head first into what seem to be invisible walls erected around the premises. Pushing through them pretty quickly drains them of energy, and would leave them flopping uselessly to the ground. It at least makes sense that a sorceress would ward her sanctum against magically powered spies. That said, Toph finds nothing terribly amiss with the earth around her. It's steady, solid, and quite healthy, but otherwise mundane. The marble the dome itself is made out of, is a different matter. Converging through a couple of main corridors, one gets the sense that this 'Manse' is big enough to hold quite the contingent on its own, though not the thousands gathered outside. It's warm, comfortable, and lavishly furnished, though it's not really clear how or where any of the amenities came from, seemingly including magical heat and lighting. Without going down any side passages, all the spokes do indeed lead to what can only be called a courtyard, where the sun streams bright and magnificent through a beautiful skylight upon an internal meadow of carefully curated trees and flowers, much prettier than the hardy summer foliage outside. The odd butterfly can even be seen dancing through the sunbeams, questionable how they got here. With one procession just leaving, counting at least one excessively tall and regal figure in their ranks, there are only two left, seated upon a wicker throne of sorts, and standing next to it respectively. The former looks like she's not even out of her teens; short, slim, delicate, and with a girlish figure, but dark eyes and a solemn, steady gaze somehow make her seem far older than she looks, and the air around her practically crackles with magic, if not simply her authority of presence. Next to her is a wall of a man who conversely looks like he must be sixty or older, with a magnificent mane of grey hair and a short, trimmed beard of the same, but there are no apparent infirmities of age; he's built like a brick outhouse, with arms and legs like muscled tree trunks and hands that look like they could squash someone's skull. Still, there is something of a refined air about him, despite the drab cloth, fur, and leather that he has wrapped around his armour, though not to the extent it can hide it. More importantly, he bears a comically oversized sword like something from an MMORPG, easily four or five feet long and with a blade half a foot wide, glimmering like burnished gold instead of steel, and almost overwrought with ornate imagery, and set with a pair of egg-sized glowing jewels. It's easy to imagine why tribesfolk practically worship these figures. They seem larger than life, and too mythologically impressive to possibly belong in these hard, frozen lands, no matter what they might adorn themselves with. It takes no guessing to decide on who they are. Yurgen Kaneko stands impatiently with his mighty arms folded over his chest. Samea speaks out, her voice as young as she looks, but with an intensely commanding quality that resounds in the simple, spherical chamber like it were a movie theatre with the highest end acoustic equipment available. "More travelers? I believe I still have time, but please, make it quick. There is much to see to, and there are further guests of the Terrestrial Courts of Earth and Air arriving tonight. What is it that you need?"
Staren	Staren just sort of looks around, taking in the surroundings. So, is the person they're here to talk to even here...? He recognizes Miari's voice as she chides her giant wasp. "Hi, I'm Staren. Pleased to meet you." And to Septette: "Why wouldn't we be glad for your company, Septette? It's always nice to have you around." Starflot gets a wave. "Good to see you guys too." He accepts the terms if asked. "So... are we meeting with Mr. Bull, or...?" Okay, they're going in. He takes it in -- recording everything -- and noting the magical amenities. Huh, so some people in Creation do have it nice. His eyes widen slightly at the Daiklave. He knows full well what it is, and that it means this man either forged it himself, or knows someone capable of doing so. Well, now it seems they've finally met who they need to. Staren is coming into this matter a bit late, and unclear on what exactly is needed... More to observe who they're dealing with for later, than to run negotiations himself. He nods in greeting to the local rulers, and looks around expectantly for someone else to start.
Alucard Tepes	The awkwardness of the last meeting with Moonfin seems to have been forgotten, and Alucard seems to have gotten over whatever it was that initially made him react to oddly to the fish-man. Thus he nods to the greeting from Moonfin, offering in return, "It's a pleasure to see you again." Though perhaps there's a bit more respect being shown, since after a moment Alucard speaks, "I offer my apologies for the... odd reaction of before." He pauses here, as if trying to think how best to continue. Ultimately he decides it's probably best to just not continue. There isn't really a polite way to say 'you look like a type of monster in my world'. Instead he turns his attention to Toph, and her greeting. This draws a polite half-bow as well. "T'is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am called 'Alucard'," he replies. The wards, Alucard may or may not be able to sense via his own magical training. However, as he has most of his own power suppressed here, they shouldn't pose much of a threat. Though it's likely that if they were invited inside, that the wards wouldn't harm them anyway. Alucard is definitely familiar with the invitation as a mystical aspect of a ward or protection. He will need to keep his hood up, unfortunately, since bright sunlight still hurts his eyes. While his magic is sealed, his nature cannot be changed. Besides that, he's usually asleep at this time of day. He looks between the young girl and the much larger man beside her, though he remains quiet. He has the presence of mind to bow deeply to the pair. They're clearly in charge, so it wouldn't do well for him to disrespect them.
Miari	Miari sighs happily at the courtyard, rather like someone dripping with mud might at the sight of a shower. She quickens her pace briefly to stand under one of the trees to admire it while waiting on the others... "The Sun's power fills this land. The building, carefully laid down with the proper methods, cultivates that power and channels it. Behave here." No harm in reaffirming the fact that this is not a place to go off on any tangents. At last though, those they're here to meet are at attention... and Miari turns about to face them. Her eyes linger for some time on the Bull and his great blade... but even longer on Samea. "Champions of the Most High, I am Miari, a Sorceress from the East," She says in clear Skytongue. "Good to finally put a face to the ones who even the Realm fears. Ah... with me are many from organizations... hailing from worlds beyond the Wyld, if you are familiar. We have come to discuss your conquests and the future they may hold."
Starbound Flotilla	"It's a temple." "Easy does it, Beakface. We don't know what they're like yet." "Disgusted. And you believe she cares about the premise of her violence?" "I think she wants to get paid and not stabbed." "Mocking. She has the wrong business for that." "She has a point." "Mr. Petrov, please don't egg them on." "Look. Isss like Greenfinger. Look at /big/ ssstabber." "UGH. Let me do the talking." The Flotilla bother and chatter among themselves as they approach and eventually enter the courtyard. "Of course, Mr. Tepes. I entirely understand." Moonfin gives a quick nod to the man as they do. "Hylotl are known for their ability to forgive far more than any other species." Wow, nice humility. He seems to be the one who steps forward among the Flotilla, leaving the other captains behind to sort of ring the encounter in an uncertain position. "Heliosan Lords," Moonfin dynamically designs his own custom title of honor for them right on the spot. "I am Haruto, a Moonfin of the Hylotl, captain among the Starbound Flotilla, partner of the Concord. We come seeking personal and direct understanding of your cause and context. We have become involved in matters pertaining to you and pertaining to Whitewall, each as potential parties of our trade arrangements." He performs a deep bow here, perhaps out of politeness, perhaps because that's just what Solars seem to make appropriate. Standing particularly upright after, he says, "We are humble craftsmen and traders, seeking to find a cause among this region that is just, to which we may lend our support. We seek the cause, motives, and purpose of the parties of this grand and complex web, to defuse one potential upcoming conflict, and to perhaps lend our aid in arms and armor to those whose cause is just in those future conflicts which cannot be avoided." He makes a careful point of being specifically neutral, so they can have a good excuse to walk right back out of here and still attack later, but also to sort of turn around and change their angle entirely if the whole thing turns out to be more in favor of the Bull.
Septette Arcubielle	Septette's attention flits from one figure to the other and back again, though her eyes remain still. There are many emotions that it is useful to instill in a man you may wish to kill tomorrow, but few seem suitable; the old standbys, anger and fear, seem like they would be both difficult to elicit from the Bull and deeply inimical to constructive diplomacy. Fortunately, this world's peculiarities give her a third method. Raneka had not immediately assumed that she was not of this world. That implies that there are other mechanical entities like herself, perhaps even enchanted ones like the golem outside, that are native to this Creation. And where there are machines, there are usually servitors. If she can give the impression of being a relatively simple, common machine, that is both a useful first impression for a potential adversary and not harmful to negotiations- and, in a pinch, it can easily be dispelled later. When the other parties make eye contact, she casts her gaze slightly down; when they bow, she curtsies deeply, but robotically. In the process, she shifts her shawl just enough to frame the clearly broken and scoured components in her chest without plainly revealing the blades built into her arms and legs, then pulls the cloak tight around her shoulders again. A mere cloak can't hide the grotesquely blatant amount of magical radiation pouring off of her core, but with any luck, that might be considered 'normal' here too. "RQBL-7, servant of Yggdrasil and companion of these traders." Those words faintly burn her proud heart to speak, but the lives of thousands could be determined by even slight details here. Better to hold her tongue. "We also seek, more specifically, information on what it is you wish to accomplish at the temple in Whitewall." Haruto would likely have gotten to that point eventually, but...
Toph Beifong	Digging her toes into the earth, Toph inspects the area, content to find that nothing seriously seems amiss here... aside from the marble of the dome. That makes her curious, and she turns her attention towards it, trying to see if her seismic sense can figure out what's up with it. Alucard earns a nod. "Toph Beifong, Paladin squire. I'm here to check whether this place needs our attention." For now though she heads with the others inside to the internal meadow. Seems like quite a party... Toph will let the others speak to the seated man and the young girl first, her fingers moving over the braille book in her hands. They might be important to these people, but for now Toph doesn't look intimidated where she stands, observing for now. When the time comes, she will close the book and offer a slight bow, though keeping it simple. "As for myself, I'm Toph Beifong. Squire of the Paladins. I'm here to observe and make a report. The laws of these lands are still new to me, though we always make it a point to get a clear picture of the situation. Any upcoming conflict would be best avoided."
Tomoe	She looks at the thing that is blocking Septette's way but she's not sure how thing will go with her. She's never met the androdid? Before in person after all and can only go by what's been said on the radio. She looks at the Manse a they are let in she's clear she's going to be poplite but she wonders where all this came from then again the Bull is an Solar after all right? She can see why the Bill and he companion and she pauses for a moment looking at Tarbven for a moment. "The name is Tomoe the Iron Lily." She lets the others who have come to talk about this she listen to whathe Flotilla has to sya but wonders for a moment just what the game is then again? She does want to hear out what hte Bill and his people have in mind. With Septette asking the question she remains silent it's clear she's a fighting and likely a guard from the looks of her.
Bloody Revelations	Neither of the Solars really bow back (one is sitting down anyways), but Yurgen makes an affirmative sort of grunt at Alucard introducing himself, and Samea's expression brightens somewhat at hearing her native language. The former looks to the latter, and she takes the time to point out Miari and Septette, saying something about 'Essence wielders', completely skipping Alucard (which at least means his suppression is working. After a moment's consideration, she looks to Seft, and then says something about 'magical talent' to her friend. It's perhaps slightly rude to have a private discussion in front of guests, but it seems like they want to make sure of what their angle is here. That means they can't be /that/ close. Friends, perhaps, but not best ones, and especially not lovers or childhood comrades. "Then you are welcome, Miari of the East, Moonfin Haruto of the Starbound. Could it be that more have heard the tale, and answered the call?" The Bull picks up after her, his voice clearly just as grizzled and old as he looks, but with a firm and highly authoritative tone; the kind people stop and listen to regardless of how they feel about him. "Skilled men and women are always welcome in my Circle, especially if any of you happen to have experience with sanctification. Those who join me in these early days of the first Solar rule in the Age of Sorrows will be amply rewarded for their loyalty." Somehow, the offer can't seem but, even just for a brief time, mildly tempting. The sheer confidence he exudes makes it easy to trust that he knows exactly what he's talking about, and difficult to doubt his honesty. Samea is who continues, though. "I must say, wishing to defuse conflict whilst peddling arms is a curious thing. The needs of the Bull's armies are great, and their coffers full. If you came all the way here, what is your reservation with turning a profit? I'm sure he would pay quite a handsome sum for your automaton. Even broken as it is, it shouldn't be too difficult to refurbish it. Where exactly did you find it?" Her words, by contrast, are deeply probing. There's something about the way she speaks that is very different from Yurgen. Something in her eyes. It feels difficult to stay guarded around her, and difficult to come up with convincing words. It's even harder to try and ignore her. It doesn't feel like an outright compulsion, but even cursory self-examination would probably conclude that the feelings are a little too strong to be intrinsic. "Regardless, you will find no cause more just out here in the North. This close to the Elemental Pole of Air, living is hard, life is struggle, and needs are both simple and simply met. Few have time for moral quandary, never mind any form of justice but which by the tribe or the village survives, and so there are few places to seek complex thoughts of the future, or even literacy. These lands have been harsh and bleak since before even the Scarlet Dynasty. The only great powers are completely self-absorb; practical to a fault, and worried about the sluggish and distant Realm more than their own neighbours. If you seek to find a cause other than ours, it will be with a Deathlord, or the Fair Folk, and neither are in short supply here, nor is anything about them just."
Bloody Revelations	Then, Yurgen takes over, voice booming around the courtyard. "And so you understand exactly why this war party gathers, don't you? Not forty years ago, these people were starving nomads, bound to the health of the herds, and rented as cannon fodder against the Fae to make ends meet when the spread of the Shadowlands sickened and killed their livelihood. When we were once one of them, we couldn't hope for high walls or warm homes, and yet now look at them; even this bare start of an empire." "There is order. The rivalries and feuds of the past are no more. Every man, woman and child has his or her place. We number more than any other in the North, and they no longer dare provoke us, never mind take advantage of dire straits. If they are too prideful to surrender, they will be absorbed by force, for that is simply the nature of war, but look about you? Have I brought nothing but prosperity to these people? Have I not forged even the wastes of the North into something greater than it could ever possibly be? Even now, we are but an arm's reach away from so many glories of the First Age, forgotten, defaced, and left abandoned, that could provide more than anyone of this era could dream of, eagerly awaiting the return of their rightful masters." "The people who cling to them have no idea how to use them. No concept of how they might better the world, and thus foolishly see destruction where the empire of the Bull brings back the glories of old. Given a perhaps another decade, the North would fear nothing from the Realm. We could crush the corrupt and failing Scarlet Dynasty, and liberate the four corners of Creation from the regime of the treacherous and opulent dogs of the Great Houses." Though nothing seems particularly magical about his speech, just the man's stage presence is incredibly impressive. His words practically vibrate in one's bones. It's incredibly easy to believe that so many would put their lives at his disposal. "The Unconquered Sun told me, out in the ice where I had left to seek the end, that this was the way of things. That the Exalted were meant to rule Creation, and that he had chosen them just for that purpose. At first, I didn't believe, but now seeing what I can do with the gifts he has given me, has he not chosen well? Is his design not grand? The visions I have seen of the First Age; they can only make me laugh in the face of those who consider themselves prosperous for standing on its broken bones." Toph taking a sneaky peak at the makeup of the Manse can affirm some things. The stone is entirely natural, worked from a local quarry somewhere, but it's somehow become part of the natural magic here in a fundamental way, anchored to the nexus of ley lines beneath and suffused in every respect with their power. It's something like a capstone on the inherent vitality of the earth, gathering and collecting it into one place, to make it far more resilient than it would look.
Septette Arcubielle	There are two ways in which Septette's supernatural control over her own emotions serves her well here. The first is that the magically persuasive component of Samea's words washes over her, ineffectual but not unnoticed. The second is that she is able to restrain herself from giving them an excoriating and incredibly comprehensive tongue-lashing on the subject of respecting a champion of Yggdrasil, and maintain her flawless veneer of acting the docile automaton instead. "Continued attempts at direct emotional influence," she intones softly while finally raising her eyes to meet Samea's, "may result in the termination of mutually beneficial trade negotiations, at the discretion of the caravan. They use no such wiles, and may ask that you cease them as well." Then she drops her eyes slightly again, and returns to her respectful silence. 'Essence wielder' is a term that is new to her. Clearly it can't refer to all Elites- the only commonality she can think of is that herself and Miari are both users of some form of magic, and it must be a fairly narrow definition to exclude Seft and Toph. She concludes that determining an 'essence wielder' likely has to do with the active emission of certain forms of energy, but if the offer of purchase is any indication, it doesn't preclude one from being a simple machine. Or perhaps the offer itself is a ruse, intended to reveal the "caravan's" unwillingness to sell her. Given the probing and persuasive nature of the sorceress's words, that last option seems most likely. But unless she's certain her cover is blown, Septette maintains her quiet act...
Alucard Tepes	Alucard is not unfamiliar with those with such great charisma, whether naturally or supernaturally so. Not all of those who followed his father did so out of fear, after all; Dracula's charisma and charm was great, even before Alucard was born. Something about it instinctively makes his resolve firm up though, put ill-at-ease at the familiarity of the compulsion to so completely trust the words of people he doesn't know. One thing he DOES know, though... is that this is unnatural. There is something not entirely mundane about this. And between this feeling of something pulling at his resolve, trying to wear it down and make him capitulate, and what he'd seen of how loyal the people in these settlements are to the Golden Bull, he is entirely willing to believe that they're under some sort of magical control. A part of him yearns to speak up. And he would... if it were only his life at stake. But there are others here, others that he cannot be sure of the combat abilities of. And he cannot be sure he can protect them. So for now... he holds his tongue. In fact he literally bites down on his tongue briefly -- which actually hurts, because fangs -- to ensure that he does not say anything. Outwardly, he merely looks as though he's pursed his lips at something or another. Besides that, so long as he continues to say nothing, he may still pass himself as a normal human being, albeit a pale and delicate-looking one. If he does not draw attention to himself, he can continue to observe undistracted. He can't possibly know that simply the act of NOT at once bowing before the wills of Samea and the Golden Bull could have tipped his hand even so...
Starbound Flotilla	Pavo's eyes gleam. No, no they don't gleam. They burn. A special sort of hatred ignites in them, one that she reserves only for communists and for the violently divine right. Her whole body tenses up, her fingers begin to work anxiously as if she wishes that she had a cutlass in her hand or blood on her beak. She heard that talk of the Unconquered Sun granting him /divine right/ and her whole soul wants to snap his throat out. She was actually seeming more pleasant, until he mentioned that part, and then it was like someone flipped a switch. It's /slightly/ conspicuous for those not focused on Moonfin. Maybe someone should go calm her down. Meanwhile, Moonfin continues his discussion. "I must apologize," He says, nodding wryly. "But--" "Stern. She is not for sale." Seft speaks up in her synthesized tone. "Stern. We are traders of goods. We do not trade lives." "As my automaton friend says, I must apologize." Moonfin says. "It is not all conflict we seek to stop, unfortunately; my own habits are inclined towards reducing it where I may, but I am oft outvoted. It is one specific conflict, and one conflict only, that we all agree upon seeking to halt. That of the kingdom of the Bull and Whitewall." "What we are seeking to understand most of all is how to ensure this is accomplished without bringing war to places that have done all they are reasonably able to avoid it. We are quite eager to profit, of course, and if there is a chance we might offer our wares for purposes besides those of Whitewall's temple, I will gladly make arrangements. One way of serving the purpose of profit is maintaining certain neutral ground, you understand?" "I understand the grave sacrifices that are necessary to engage in war. We simply seek to find any alternatives we are able to involving that neutral party, to ensure their neutrality may be maintained so that they are not drawn into your war -- righteous as it may be -- against their will." His head tilts to one side, glancing to Pavo, wincing. She looks about to literally detonate from suppressed urges, at the idea of HELPING these people.
Staren	Staren flances at Septette, then looks back to Yurgen. "If you have mistaken her for a mere machine, she is not. 'Buying' her would be slavery, a practice which we find... abhorrent, to say the least." Staren crosses his arms, then puts his hands on his hips, trying to find the right... sort-of-imposing-but-not-too-imposing posture. He settles for holding his hands behind his back. "Your goals sound laudable, but... is there really no way you can be allies? If you can't have positive relations with any other polities... do you propose to rule the entirety of Creation directly? And if these people do not understand the value of the wonders they hold, why not trade for them at a fraction of their true value? Or are they the sort who believe such things must never be used by anyone?"
Miari	"Bronze Tiger... while your cause may be just and far preferable to the suffering of the recent past... if you knew the full story of what lays hidden under all this ice and snow, the powers that oppose your conquest... and the end result of it, you may find the strategy less than ideal. Certainly there is prosperity and plenty here... but the rest of the world does not see that for what it is. They hear only the tales of Anathema. The Scarlet Empire's opinion, obviously, will not change anytime soon..." Miari sighs exasperatedly at the thought of them, in fact. She steels her expression, straightens her stance, narrows her eyes slightly. "Every death stains the land. War can be like a plague... and there are places where conquering simply will not do. Would the Sun be pleased if his Chosen were to stain the city raised in his name?" Miari's words, too, have a certain sharpness to them that make them ring loudly and clearly in one's thoughts when contemplated... though, as with the two Solars, it is quite difficult to peg this as anything but ordinary speech. Well chosen words that simply dig into the blind spots of the psyche, perhaps. The careful intonation one finds in dramas and the courts of kings.
Tomoe	She would be lying to herself if the offer wasn't temping to her but she'd already taken a job and it would ruin her to flip on a client unless they'd done something heninous ater all. She does listen however she clealry not just muscle from how she pay attention to everything. She pays attention to eveyrrhing that is said here she understands the issue with deathlord and Fae. "It is true, they are not being that one who should want to ally with." There is a reason she came and she's got the idea the Bull's people are well on their way to becoming something other than tribals thtmuch is clear. She listens to what the Bull plans to do and she thinks he sells a hell of a deal on his empire and what he's bulding. She thinks about their fears of beinc consumed into a war they want nothing to do with.
Bloody Revelations	Samea does stare a little overly long at Alucard, but not in excessive suspicion; more like something akin to curiosity. It might probably be because of his obviously --at least mixed-- inhuman heritage, but that the degree he suppresses his power makes him come off as untalented or uninitiated in the powers he should probably have. She doesn't comment on it, however, though it looks like she might dearly want to needle him with questions. Instead, the robot speaks up, and elicits a girlish but still somehow cynical laugh. "I suppose I apologize? The gifts of the Unconquered Sun are not always easily turned off if one isn't paying attention. It is not my goal to bend you to my will, or else I would call upon magics to do exactly that." Supposedly there's some kind of difference, but it may very well be purely academic. She doesn't seem to think anything of being supernaturally persuasive. "Ah, if you say so." she then has to say to the prospect of selling Septette. "Normally, people animate their constructs by binding an elemental, or similar, to its frame. Doing so is already a contract of magical servitude. I am very curious where you found this one, now, if its animating intelligence is capable of a range of thinking such that you'd consider it slavery." From there on, though, it's the Bull show. "The city of Whitewall can be my ally if they so choose. I have no interest in conquering a people who will be willingly annexed. However, I will not take no for an answer. Your savant here seems to know the true significance of that city. Once upon a time it was called Omdar Shambal, and it was the holiest city in Creation. It was raised as a monument to the might of the Unconquered Sun. Every brick was sanctified by an ordained priest before it was laid. Every building was planned as part of a grand mechanism of prayer to channel the city's faith. Every surface was emblazed with the icons and exploits of Sol Invictus, to glory his name. It was built by the Solar Exalted. It belonged to the people of the Unconquered Sun. The grant temple-manse at its heart answers only to the Solars because it is theirs, and it can only be used by then. In a past life, it was once mine, among others. It is both already my possession, and it is my right to hold it. The temple god will permit no one else. Sol Invictus will permit no one else. Even their vaunted Syndic gods cannot tread upon its grounds." "As for war staining its doorstep, there can be no blight brought upon the rightful champions Ondar Shambal honours. The weak and cowardly Dragon-Blooded, fearful of the Chosen's power, have already defaced it beyond recognition. They've carved out every name and mural and broken every blessing, save for the wall itself, which they've crudely plastered over, solely out of fear that anything further might draw the direct ire of the Unconquered Sun. The people of Whitewall are known to be fair, and treat not with the Immaculate Order, but they squat upon the ruins of a holy site they have no idea how to restore, and First Age magitechnology they have no idea how to wield. I will not spill the blood of people who honour the sun as they do, if only they accept that Ondar Shambal belongs to the Chosen, and allow me command of its geomantic assets peacefully." "There is a practical consideration as well. Ondar Shambal's walls, even desecrated as they are, still have the power to repel any creature of death or the Wyld that comes near them. It is an impregnible fortress against the forces of the Underworld and the Fair Folk, and I intend to use it as such, to drive the Deathlords and the Fae from the North. Right now, the people of Whitewall are weak enough that they can only sign half-hearted peace treaties with those blasphemous things, which still sneak whenever they can bend the minds of mortals to invite them. Under my command, there would be no such mistakes, and the Deathlords and their knights would be powerless to stop the return of the Chosen."
Septette Arcubielle	Speaking of her own volition is something she's ostensibly trying to avoid, but Septette still decides to answer Samea's questions before anyone else has a chance to ruin her gambit further. In retrospect, maybe clear communication with the team would have been a better idea than assuming everyone else would get the drift. "I do not fully understand my own construction," she replies in a demure monotone, as if she were reciting something from extensive rehearsal. "These people have helped restore me. I am still largely nonfunctional, but I am useful in some menial tasks." All technically true, in the most definition-twisting and superficial sense! But by now, she's decided that the information gradient has turned against her: the longer she stays, the fewer tidbits she'll learn and the more hints she'll give away. With that, she curtsies stiffly again to the two Solars, then looks to Alucard specifically. Her eyes are almost eerily devoid of feeling- as is her voice, a moment later. "Sir? I believe that you left a horse outside. With your leave, I shall go and ensure it is adequately watered and fed, to make your return journey easier." Then she turns and departs, without another word.
Alucard Tepes	Alucard notices Samea's look, and tilts his head. Respectfully, he inquires, "Have I done something amiss? Please accept my apologies if I have." In all fairness, he actually IS concerned that he might have. This is a strange world, with strange customs -- for all he knows he forgot to cross his eyes and say 'fluffy clouds' backwards or something. No, in all truth, he knows it woldn't be something that ridiculous, but the danger that he's somehow overstepped a boundary is a real concern. However... he can't help but understand the situation. In a manner of speaking, at least. It brings to mind his father again... this time how Castlevania is bound to him. Or how Dracula is bound to the castle, whichever is truly the case. Sometimes it's hard to tell. But this... this is the thing that finally gets him to speak up at last. "...You would bind yourself to this temple, then?" The phrasing is not in error. He's looking at it the same way as his father and the castle in Wallachia -- Dracula is just as trapped in that nightmarish place as he is its lord. And that's... well, pretty much what he says. "...There is... a man in a similar situation where I hail from. He commands a great magical castle. However, he is as much its slave as he is its master, for he is bound to it. You would be willing to do this, to ensure the Deathlords and Fae are halted?" Not that... he knows what a 'Deathlord' is. And 'Fae'? He knows them to be capricious beings of legend, but little more than that. But part of confidence is at least SEEMING like one knows what one is talking about, even when one has NO BLOODY CLUE what is going on. Septette's words to him draw his attention then. The lifeless tone of her voice and in her eyes is enough to tell what she's doing; she's playing the part of the non-sapient maidservant construct. So he nods and, as if it had happened a thousand times before, replies, "Good. Please do." He is playing along with Septette's ruse; 'thank you' is reserved for unexpected kindness; 'please do' is for a prompt to do one's expected duties.
Miari	Miari smiles as the Bull demonstrates such knowledge of Ondar Shambal... but the smile falters and becomes an even, neutral expression halfway through his monologue. Her lips purse together tightly in heavy thought.. and shoulders droop ever so slightly. "Since you are so set on this... I fear there's little more I can say. But remember... the Sun turned his back on his Chosen and all of Creation over the consequences of actions like these. I pray that none will give him a reason to do so again."
Tomoe	Tomoe has her wish she now knows the other side of the story, normally she's throw divine right out of the way but if thetemple could do more for the region? She thinks she's not a wise person she knows this. She's very direct and she knows it. Still she's learned a lot then as Alucade brings up the whole bining to the temple thing? She takes note of it and considers her options. "I would agree the Fae and Deathlords are a meance to anyone in the region." She seems lost in thought she also plays along with Septette's ruse as well not thinking much of it. "I have a better understanding of the situation here now. I'm afraid Though I'm not sure what else i have to say at this moment."
Starbound Flotilla	Pavo leaves the room to deal with the sheer, overwhelming intensity of their hate and personal venom. It's a conspicuous sort of walk, full of anger. If she could physically leave a trail of fire, that's what she would do. The Flotilla have done most of their discussion on subvocalized radio. But that's during and after Moonfin's final words. "We thank you for your time, Heliosan Lords." He says, bowing again. "We shall give it all due consideration. I must admit many of your statements are extremely compelling for a wide variety of reasons, I shall talk them over with my allies as we leave. You have been gracious hosts, and thoughtful speakers. I shall hope we can come to an agreement in your favor soon." Moonfin is lying through his teeth, but he's not half bad at doing it convincingly. Many things he said were truth, technically, and he's not too invested in killing the Bull himself, but he IS very inclined to go with the social flow of the Flotilla, and it seems like the Flotilla is likely to go against the Bull, especially if the Concord does as well. Pavo, briefly, reflects on this weird feeling she's feeling. It feels far too heroic for her tastes. She shoves the errant sensation of moral righteousness away, the way a person might spit out their first cigarette. It feels far too strange to her to manage, and she has to do her best to avoid addiction. She manages to resolve it before the rest of the Flotilla follow her.
Bloody Revelations	For a little while longer, Samea stars at Alucard, before finally shifting in her wicker chair, and making a little waving motion. "Of course not. Think nothing of it. There are some idle questions I would ask of you, but surely you're very busy, and now is not the polite time or place for them." Yurgen snorts in appropriately bull-like fashion at his suggestion though. "All the world is bound to the Chosen of the Sun, by the Divine Mandate of Rule writ millenia ago. I will pay all proper respects to a temple of Sol Invictus, but I am no slave to its wonder." Samea leaves off. "Would it that I could change your minds. Regardless, this is a place of peace, and by observing the own laws I have set for my brothers and sisters and cousins, I will not prevent you leave. Perhaps with what you've heard, you can change the mind of those of Whitewall, if you so care. Otherwise, it was pleasant meeting you all the same." She looks very pointedly as Pavo stalks out. True to their 'Mother of all Tribes'' word, none of the soldiers do anything when the group starts to trickle out. They're busy anyways, but the grounds of the Mother's Hearth are sacred to both them, and the Solar people, and thus they consider them sanctified by the Unconquered Sun himself. Nobody would dare risk Samea's ire by spilling blood on them. Except, as people leave, a black dot from out of the sky slowly circles down to meet them. At first easy to mistake as a native hawk, it resolves itself as a very large, slightly scaled carrion crowd, which comes so far as to perch on a barren tree directly in front of those taking their leave. It cocks its head, blinks its nictitating membranes twice, and then opens its beak to speaking out in a rasping, garbled voice; one utterly unsuited to the words it is forced to form, but which does so darkly all the same. "Those who wish to know the undoing of the Bull and the truth of Ondar Shambal, meet at the ten-thousandth pillar of the Traveler's Road at the midnight next. Those who fear the wrath of Sol Invictus need not apply." Shaking its feathers, the bird spreads its three foot wingspan once again, and takes off into the air, as portentously as it had come.