Run by: Soldier of Misfortune (3 xp)

Players: Stoic Basilisk

Synopsis: A letter of challenge to the Immaculate Order leads to Stoic Basilisk meeting Stormborn Night, a traitorous master to the Order, and defeating Murudo the Swift Despair in martial combat.

The Immaculate Order in Chiaroscuro is not pleased.

Less than one week ago, a letter - written on a long strip of paper and addressed to 'You God-Punching Immaculate Bastards, With Love' - appeared at their doorstep; a letter of challenge. The letter, in very prim, proper, and altogether nice-looking handwriting, spells out that it would like to challenge the most senior member of the temple in one on one combat at the following location, and would they please hurry up, because the writer is tired of sitting around and waiting.

A brief cross-reference of the Immaculate activity notes that several travelling monks have gone missing in that area, as well. Concerned about this development, the Immaculate Temple has dispatched Stoic Basilisk to figure out what the problem is, why it's a problem, and how to make it go away.

Probably by hitting it over and over.

Stoic Basilisk is dressed for war. Insensed by the inflammitory letter to the Immaculate Temple, he volunteered to represent the Immaculate Dragons to this challenger. He is wearing his reinforced jade breastplate, and carrying his Grand Goremaul over one shoulder. For the journey he wore a broad brimmed hat, which in addition to his face veil, leaves only his eyes exposed. Leaving his robes in favor of his armor, he nevertheless still wears a white linen sash over the jade in honor of Pasiap.

Pasiap would no doubt be pleased by his honorable servant's sash, but unfortunately, the Dragon is fairly distracted - Basilisk will simply have to honor the god by beating the piss out of the challenger. And as Stoic Basilisk nears the small village, with people hunched over in fear, it becomes immediately apparent that whatever is going on isn't the common will of these poor villagers; just another duty he'll have to do for the Order.

Upon approach, the monk's eyes would immediately be drawn to a man with long blue hair hanging down along the side, dressed in the traditional garb of an Immaculate master - but there's something wrong with the clothing; the symbols honoring the gods have been torn off, no signs praise the Five Great Dragons, and the color is inherently...not Immaculate.

Stoic Basilisk eyes the blue-haired man, but makes no move towards him. He thinks he knows who issued the challenge, but it never hurts to make an entrance, to reassure the village that they have not been forsaken in their time of need. Stepping into the closest approximation of a town square the village possesses, he lets the head of his goremaul thump into the dust, and squares his feet. "My name is Stoic Basilisk, monk of the Immaculate order. A man here has insulted myself, my master, and the Immaculate Order itself. I have come to answer that insult, and to see that justice is done."

The Immaculate traitor bows, a cheery smile on his face. "I know. I'm the one who wrote the letter." He straightens. "My name is no longer important - if you can overcome the challenge issued you, Stoic Basilisk, perhaps I will give you my name."

"But I would like to make one small correction." The traitor holds up a finger. "It was not a man in this village who insulted the Order."

From beside the traitor, a man congeals, but he is not quite a man - his skin is a deep blue, his arms long and spindly, a prayer slip covers his face, and his cheongsam is mourning black decorated with gold.

"This is the local god of this village - Murudo, the Swift Despair. He would like to challenge you in single combat for vengeance." The Immaculate traitor smiles as the small god bows stiffly to Stoic Basilisk.

Stoic Basilisk bows in return to the God. "This is hardly the way to seek recompense from the Immaculate Order. Such words can not go unpunished, and the dissapearence of monks in the area is a serious issue that can not go uninvestigated." He pushes his hat back, letting it hang by a string around his neck. "Why have you asked for a trail by combat?"

"The Swift Despair is unfortunately incapable of speech without great effort," the Immaculate traitor offers, stepping to the side so that the small god has room to take up a martial arts stance, its spindly arms outstretched, long hands with clawed fingers pointed downwards. "However, he has asked me to write the-"

 The god holds up its hand as a horrible jaw distends from its face, sharp teeth glinting in the light. "Immaculates...destroyed...brother," the god intones, each statement sounding immensely painful from the god's unusual mouth, as though each statement was true harm to it. "Broke...to pieces...no quarter...no mercy." The god lowers itself a bit, jaw sealing back up as the Immaculate Traitor nods.

 "A fellow village god was killed by the Immaculate Order," the blue-haired ex-monk explained, "Without question, without concern. It happens every day - small gods slaughtered for suspicions or other, even less tangible reasons. Is that what the Dragons want, Stoic Basilisk? A divine bloodbath?"

 "I think it only fair that The Swift Despair has a chance for vengeance in the martial way, don't you?" He shrugs.

Stoic shakes his head, "The Immaculate Order does not destroy out of hand. We inforce the order of Creation, if your 'brother' was destroyed, it was because he violated one or more of the tenants of the Order. If you insist on this course of action, then so will be your fate." Stoic Basilisk snaps the cord around his neck, and tosses his hat to one side. Taking his goremaul in both hands, he drops back into a deep stance, ready for the fight.

The Swift Despair tilts his head down once, a clear nod. The Immaculate ex-monk sighs and smiles, crouching and flipping a wide straw hat onto his head before leaping onto the roof behind him. "If you defeat him," He calls down, "We'll talk more. Good luck, Stoic Basilisk. We'll have to see who is right."

The ex-monk raises his hand. "When both combatants are ready," he offers, "Strike with your cause behind you, and do not hesitate for an instant!"

(Judge) Stoic Basilisk rolls Wits + Awareness: [ 3 3 4 7 8 ]

        Resulting in 2 successes.

(Judge) Vicis rolls 7: [ 3 3 4 5 5 8 <10> ]

        Resulting in 3 successes.

The Swift Despair charges, its spindly arms flowing behind it as it runs, like a pair of ribbons in the breeze. Nearly to Stoic Basilisk, the god leaps into the sky, flipping and thrusting its foot downwards in order to kick at Stoic Basilisk's head. When it lands, it whips around, sweeping its claws at his face; but it is the final motion that is truly surprising as the god's essence flows into its fingertips, a telltale gleam of white the only hint as its hand thrusts for Stoic's chest, flat and wide and huge as it attempts to flat-palm him in a move known only to one type of individual - Immaculate Monks.

(Judge) Vicis rolls 5: [ 2 3 3 4 5 ]

        Resulting in a failure.

(Judge) Vicis rolls 5: [ 3 4 5 5 7 ]

        Resulting in 1 successes.

(Judge) Vicis rolls 5: [ 3 6 6 8 9 ]

        Resulting in 2 successes.

Stoic drops back, synchronizing his essence flows with the earth around him, becoming one with Creation. Casually fending off the God's blows with his Goremaul, he activates Earth Dragon Form, and prepares to really start the fight.

-= OOC =- Stoic Basilisk says, "Activating Earth Dragon Form, Speed 5 I believe."

Swift Despair recovers from his blows, holding up his hands; with a brief set of motions, the god relaxes into the Air Dragon Form, a clear sign that he, too, is serious in his desire to chip away at the earth dragon.

From on high, the Immaculate traitor smiles.

Swift Despair charges, hands outstretched once more, whipping around with essence gleams as it attempts to steal the wind from Stoic Basilisk's very throat, the prayer charm that is its face twisted-up like an angered face. The ribbon-like arms strike twice more, and the god leaps backwards, relaxing into his Air Dragon stance once more.

The traitor claps. "You're doing very well, Swift Despair," he praises, the sound of a master praising a favored student.

-= OOC =- Vicis says, "He's using three more banked actions to activate Air Dragon form, then he's going to attack twice with Breath-Seizing Technique; his specialty in MA gives him +3 dice when In Air Dragon Stance."

(Judge) Vicis rolls 8: [ 2 2 3 5 6 8 9 <10> ]

        Resulting in 4 successes.

(Judge) Vicis rolls 8: [ -1- 2 4 5 6 7 8 9 ]

        Resulting in 3 successes.

Stoic Basilisk steps forward, his feet thumping and raising dust from the earth as they connect with the ground. His Goremaul swings with slow, deleberate, powerful motions. Once, twice, Stoic's Goremaul crashes into Swift Despair, all the force of the Immaculate Dragons behind each swing. His Anima Banner springs to life with the swings, a Basilisc of the southern sands coiling around itself.

-= OOC =- Stoic Basilisk says, "Two attacks, each with 2 motes from the First MA excellency, and activating my Anima at the end of it all. GIves me some soak, but most importantly raises my stamina. Don't want this to end with me choaking to death."

(Judge) Stoic Basilisk rolls Dexterity + Martial arts + 3 + 4 - 2: [ -1- -1- -1- -1- 2 4 6 7 8 8 9 9 9 ]

        Resulting in 6 successes.

(Judge) Stoic Basilisk rolls Dexterity + Martial arts + 3 + 4 - 3: [ -1- -1- 2 3 3 3 4 8 8 9 9 <10> ]

        Resulting in 6 successes.

(Judge) Stoic Basilisk rolls 18: [ 2 2 2 3 3 3 3 3 5 5 6 7 7 7 8 9 <10> <10> ]

        Resulting in 9 successes.

The god goes spiralling across the way, slamming through one of the village huts and leaving a massive hole. On the other side, it stands, shakily, trying to get off the ground after that blow, and the god rips its mouth open, letting out a terrible, pained wail of vengeance and fury and sorrow as it stumbles back through the building.

"Tsk," The Immaculate traitor says quietly, "It looks like you weren't ready for your challenge after all."

"Are you going to finish him, Stoic Basilisk?" The traitor inquires as the god stumbles his way around the building.

Stoic shoulders his Goremaul, "I really suppose I should, he has assaulted an Immaculate monk, and while I have no proof I suspect he has had at least some hand in the dissapearance of others in this area." Instead of moving to finish off the god, Stoic Basilisk turns to the traitor, the dissapating anima banner mirroring his movements. "However, it seems to me that Murudo is not the one at fault here. It seems as if his grevences have been given a more... violent outlet than he would normally seek. I will have some temple monks to see whether the 'Swift Dispair' is salvegable as a deity worthy of the Immaculate Calendar, but you are an altogether different matter."

The traitor hops down from the roof in a graceful motion, landing in front of stoic and tugging at his wide basket hat. "You would be correct - I am the one who taught him the Air Dragon Style. He came to me, knelt in a show of true humility, and begged me for his aid. I don't know what sparked his hate, but my heart was moved."

"Do you know why I am a traitor to the order, Stoic Basilisk? It is because we are wrong. Our faith is one of fear and ignorance, not of harmony and peace."

"I was once the Immaculate Master of the Temple of Far Winds - my name was Cloudless Day. But now I follow a different faith."

"If you are interested - if in your soul I have sparked even the slightest hint of doubt - seek out the Temple of Silence, and when you arrive, ask to speak with Stormborn Night." Stormborn Night raises his hat and smiles.

Stoic Basilisk still holds his Goremaul, but does not swing. One capable of teaching the Immaculate Styles is beyond his abilities at this time, but he is barely restraining himself. His voice low, like gravel being ground together, "If I one day seek out your temple, it will not be for your teachings. A traitor deserves no such patronage from me."

"That saddens me greatly, Stoic Basilisk," Stormborn Night sighs, "You show mercy in your heart for a poor creature, something many in the Order would never do, even though your heart is strong and forceful." He smiles again and turns. "You win this round, Stoic Basilisk. But I am certain we will meet again." And with that, the Immaculate traitor disappears as his charm takes hold, leaving Stoic and Swift Despair alone in the center of the village.