Run by: Soldier of Misfortune

Players: Philokrates, Dreams of Elsewhere (Visions of Blue), Master of the Hunting Mist

Posted by Master of the Hunting Mist

 

From afar, Vicis  The Seven Sands. Dominion of the (ailing) king Jhezivar Ironeyes, it is a wretched place, suffering from a supernaturally powerful drought and a fearful king's army cracking down extra-hard on lawbreakers. Within the capitol city, the White Sickness dealt especially impressive damage, crushing them to their knees for the new king's conquest.

 So it is now that the city sits and waits, though for what it does not know. Perhaps a savior, perhaps a destroyer, perhaps in vain; nevertheless the city waits, time marching ever onwards.

 Guards surround the capitol's gate, leaning against their posts as they chatter on.

 "So my baby girl just got married," Markus the Fish (so called because of his immigration from a place with a much greater amount of water) offers to his fellow guard, "I'm so proud. The King himself promised to come, but, well, you know."

 "Hey, at least he promised," Guard Number Two replies, nodding sagely. "Here's to your daughter."

 "Here's to my daughter!" Markus replies, clinging the glass of some indeterminate and foul-smelling alcohol to his friend's.

 

Philokrates and his ward crest a hill on the road to the city, falling in to view of the guards. He walks on jury-rigged prosthetic legs, hewn from wood and crystal by the labors of the Dragon Kings. Dreams, however, rides astride a donkey, enjoying the nap of the noonday sun. Long, boring moments that are not interesting pass as they proceed to the front gate, but he stops well out of shouting range and shakes Dreams gently away. "Wake up," he murmurs.

Dreams of Elsewhere grunts, rolling to stare upwards. "Why are we coming out here for?" she asks. "You know this is dangerous." Not for Philokrates, per se. But everyone else. I mean, there's no sign!

 

      Walking on foot, as he usually does when approaching populated areas, Hunting Mist leads his Familiar from a south-easterly direction having gotten word in Crystal Spire that Philokrates was headed here in this direction a while ago. Mist is hoping that he's caught up with him with his Charm use, but isn't sure. Coming over a low ridge, Mist scans the area to see what he can.

Dreams of Elsewhere hmms. "They're not going to believe me," she says, scoldingly. But she doesn't argue, as she starts at a jog towards the town.

 

Philokrates says, "If they don't, shout. I will let my anima flare as proof."

"They /might/ believe you're coming," Dreams replies tartly. "They just won't believe what I am saying about you, or the danger they'll be in."

Philokrates says, "Well, they'll learn in a hurry."

Philokrates says, "If past is any evidence."

"Hey, wassat?" Guard Number Two nudges Markus, pointing out at the hill on the road.

 Markus frowns and strains his eyes, hiding them from the sun. He wasn't in the best of health these days - getting on in years. His wife kept telling him to stop volunteering for lookout and do something simple, like prison guard duty, but Markus enjoyed the lookout too much.

 "Dunno," he admits.

 

         Spotting the two figures, he quickly recognizes Philokrates unique physiology, and deduces that Dreams is the woman running towards the city. Wishing he could talk to Dreams first, he simply whistles loudly, one of those cowboy whistles that perk heads up in the middle of a stampede, and waves to the two figures as he makes his way towards them.

Dreams of Elsewhere stops in her tracks, and half-turns to give Philokrates a flat look. "'The temperate man does not undertake actions which he predicts will come to great tragedy, or cause undue or unmet hardship.'" she quotes. "Or so said that wrteched Glycol man you made me read."

 

         Hunting Mist isn't rushing, just steadily walking apace. It'll be a bit before he gets there.

"Have some faith in me," says Philokrates. "I have not slain a man, though he lies to me, for a month. I do not intend to return to the bloody road now over petty perfidies! There will be no heart's blood spilled upon the earth here." He glances over towards Hunting Mist, and furrows his brow. "It's Hunting Mist again."

Guard Number Two picks up his spear. "Be ready in case something's wrong," he tells Markus.

 Markus snorts. He'd been in combat before! The older man picks up his spear as well, settling it over his shoulder. "-You- be ready in case something's wrong. This is your first duty, isn't it?"

 "...well...you don't have to rub it in."

         "Hail t'thee, Phil, Dreams.", says Mist as he finally closes enough to be heard, "Ah gotta have a chat with you Phil, about what happened in Chronopolis. I think I need t'hear what happened there.". Tipping his hat to Dreams of Elsewhere, "Ma'am."

Dreams of Elsewhere considers that, before starting towards the city, waving a greeting-farewell to Mist before starting down the hill, and waving at the guards. "Haallo!" she calls towards them. Her hands are wrapped in a brawller's bandages.

Markus blinks and rubs his eye. He couldn't possibly be seeing...erm.

 

"Hail! What brings you to the City of His Imperial Majesty, the Vaunted King Jhezivar Ironeyes?!" Guard Number Two shouts. Markus sighs at the unnecessary tirade, rolling his eyes. He'd served King Rashad Whitesand, too, and he'd never had to say anything like -that-.

 "Dial it down a bit," he murmurs to Two.

 

Philokrates begins leading the donkey to a place that looks decent to make a camp. "I am at your disposal, Hunting Mist. I assume you've come looking for me?" He shakes his head. "I went to Chronos hoping to find succor. I had no idea I would receive such a violent reception. He believes that I am a killer of children, and that I kidnapped Dreams of Elsewhere," he says, gesturing towards his ward as she moves to the gate. "I do not understand why he did not believe me when I spoke to him of my innocence in these matters; I am not such a thing that tells lies." He rolls his eyes, as if speaking of one who would refuse to believe in the sky's blue.

         Looking at Phil, Mist lets Yoshi go and wander off a short ways away. No point in spooking his mount by letting a huge predator get within its confort zone, no matter how 'tame' he is. "Well, Phil, that does depends on who knows what, an' why. There's just a good chance that he's dead wrong about facts, unless you checked into things yourself, that-a-ways? Ah'm sure he's said all sorts of things, but I only have th'sketchiest details, an' yer name comes up in th'same sentance as 'bloodthirty' a lot, an' I'd like to hear your story from yer own lips, if that wouldn't inconvenience you."

 

Dreams of Elsewhere dimples at the guards. "Hi," she replies. Her voice lilts with the prayerful accent of Great Forks. "I've come to be the bearer of warnings, and the annoucer of comings," she says, quite formally.

"...warnings and comings," Markus says flatly, leaning on his spear and sighing. "Okay, what are you warning of us and why is it coming here?"

 

Philokrates glances aside. "I've killed many people," he murmurs. "Eight times eight and nine. I was..." He closes his eyes. "I have been punished for these crimes. Punished in terrible ways." He squats, gathering firewood. "When I first mastered my autosurgical alteration procedures, and excised perfidy from my heart, lies became something that is... something unbearable. Like watching a child raped, muted by thick rags," he murmurs, eyes distant. "It's..." He sighs. "It's still like that. But I have learned to be merciful, for they know not what they do... But then, then, my wrath waxed high and bloody."

 

"It is Philokrates of Great Forks, truthspeaker and lieslayer" Dreams replies. "And he comes to speak truths. And slay lies. Any who speak a deception in his presence would be well served to slit his wrists and be saved the pain of his firey arrows."

"That's all very nice," Markus says after a moment, "And very impressive, I'm sure. But there are rules in here, and if he's going to shoot firey arrows in our city, I'm not sure the King would appreciate me allowing him inside. Tell your master he can come in if he surrenders his weapons to us, okay, little one?"

 Guard Number Two raises both eyebrows at Markus. "But he's-"

 "Look, there's no rules against 'killing lies', so long as you don't kill -people-," Markus replies bluntly.

 

         Hanging his head, Mist puts a hand on Phil's shoulder, "Aw, hell, Phil, why'd you go an'do that? Yer better than that. People have so little, lies ain't...I get it, to you they're a blight, painful to even think of. Yer gettin' better, I hear that, but would you consider reversing th'process somehow?"

Philokrates looks sternly at Hanging Mist. "What I've seen cannot be un-seen. It is too late; the veil has been parted, and I have seen what lies behind. I cannot be free of what I have learned. I can only seek to become something that bears it."

Philokrates says, "Lies are what impoverish, what steal, what kill. Lies are a foundation for a forest of sins. Slay the root and the forest falls."

Dreams of Elsewhere considers that for a moment, glancing over her shoulder. "I believe," she says cautiously, "that he will bear neither arms nor arrows into your city," she says, before bowing. "You've my gratitude for your understanding. I will go to inform him of this condition." With which, she turns around and heads back up the hill.

 

Markus nods and leans against his spear, shaking his head. "Weird times."

 "I'll say," Guard Number Two replies.

 "Oh, what would you know? You're barely old enough to have hair on your face!"

 "Hey!"

 

         "Alright, then, I wish you well on that journey, 'cause its a rough one, from what it sounds like. But I need an accounting of your actions, from start to finish, so I have something to go on when looking into the events at Chronopolis. I have a job there, more or less, an' need t'figure out what needs t'be done, for the betterment of all.", and Hunting Mist lets his hand drop from Phil's shoulder, and stands away fromhim. "An', just curious, what're you doin' way out here?"

        "I've mastered esoteric tutorial magics," says Philokrates. "I first used them to assist in Dreams of Elsewhere's education... The same arts extend to arbitrarily large classes. I intend to lure myself an audience with my tutelage, and teach my insights as well as more common wisdom."

The wind whips through briefly, kicking up a small dust-storm as some small god or another angrily protests something the gods alone know.

 

Dreams of Elsewhere trudges back up the hill, glancing at Mist, before addressing Philokrates, "They said you could not come into the city bearing arms or arrows, which I agreed in your name you would not do. Because you won't need them, right Philokrates?"

Philokrates says, "If you could ask Chronos to call off the bounty on my head, I would be appreciative. I'm tired of killing or crippling ambitious bounty hunters.""

Philokrates says, "Excuse me a moment."

Philokrates takes a swing at Dreams. "You perfidous! You did not tell them of my weapon-summoning arts!?!"

         Hunting Mist steps back to let the two titans work out their differences.

Dreams of Elsewhere blocks the swing, and instinctively drops into a low crouch, hands raising in a boxer's guard. "I told them that you would slay with firey arrows anyone who lied! If they believe such weapons may be mortal, that's their fault!"

Philokrates attempts to stomp on the significantly shorter little girl with the sharp, charm-hardened bones of his shins, starting to glow fairly spectacularly. "To lie with truth is the most underhanded of deceptions - did you not speak those words to them with the intent to think them safe from ym arrows? You knew better!" Shins! Sharp shins!

 

As the sandstorm whips past and dies as whatever small god was causing it's irritation ceases, Markus raises an eyebrow at the commotion.

 "Are they, um...are they hitting each other?"

 Guard Number Two strains. "I think so."

 "...right. We should go put a stop to that."

 "Right."

 There's a moment of silence.

 "After you?"

 "You go ahead."

 "...thanks."

 

Dreams of Elsewhere's hands start to bleed, profusely, as she seems to gain nearly a foot in height, seeming to age, growing leaner, harder. As she blocks and sidesteps the shin kicks, she retorts. "And what truth should I have spoken, then?! They would not let you in the with the city then! And if you keep you do not conjure your weapons, you make yourself not a murderer and me not a deciever! The truth is in your hands!"

Philokrates and his ward pummel each other, but it's growing increasingly clear that his attack is fairly futile. He lacks the accuracy to penetrate her defenses. So he picks up a stick from the earth and starts whaling on her with it.

Dreams of Elsewhere grunts, and flicks her wrist against the assault, flinging blood from her ruined knuckles directly into Philokrates' eyes. As he's reeling back, she slides behind him, kicking in the join where the false-leg meets bone, then another kick directly against the small of his back. "'When violence becomes your only response,'" she quotes, "'the wise man concede the debate, and the lesser man fights for false causes.'"

 

Seeing the situation resolve itself, Markus leans back against the wall, shaking his head.

 "That guy just got beat by that little girl." Guard Number Two says, sounding shocked.

 "It happens," Markus agrees.

 "But she beat him and she's barely...!"

 "I saw," Markus agrees.

 "But..."

 "Look. Interesting times. Live with it and walk on."

 

Hunting Mist says, "So, uh, Phil, how about we settle our business first before moving onto something new? Ah'm pretty sure th'place will be there a little later on."

Philokrates says, "Ow!"