Greetings everyone, and welcome to my first stab at a Story Hour. I read a lot of them here, and was interested in trying my hand at it. Unfortunately, my main campaign has been going on for a year and a half, and it would be a monumental effort to summarize everything that has happened. I plan to do it sometime soon, but for my first try, I wanted something easier.
So, Rising Tides comes into play. A first attempt at an Exalted game, this is a one-on-one affair (as of yet) that was sort of spur of the moment. It's only had one session so far, but it was so eventful that I wasn't able to fit it all into the hour or so of labor I put into it tonight. So, for now, the opening teaser. Enjoy.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
Halon, the Protagonist: Talented and lucky merchant of the Wavecrest Archipelago, unwitting Solar Exalted of the Eclipse Caste.
Magnificent Rushing Wave: His longtime friend and confidante, leader of a growing anti-Dynast resistance movement in the city of Jade.
Talak: A mysterious blond Northerner who enounters Halon seemingly by chance in a Jade bar.
Session 1, Part 1:
...The bells of Jade harbor tolled as the Shadow Runner rushed towards the opening tide gates, a majestic sight against the glorious backdrop. The sharp keel of the ship’s hull cut swiftly through the waves, and Halon’s hair was blown about by the wind and sea spray, a million rainbows reflecting in the mist. The sky was a perfect sapphire, unmarred by clouds, the sun shining brightly at its zenith. Halon was pleased- the trip had gone off without a hitch, and if he didn’t know better, he would say that the spirits looked with favor upon his voyage.
Not yet, he chided himself, ever aware of the teeming mass of desperate humanity beneath his feet, in the holds. Magnificent Rushing Wave, his childhood friend, had begun a small resistance movement in Jade, and Halon had been running chores for him for the past year. Still, Wave’s operation lacked the manpower necessary to make any sort of impact. This run was the most dangerous yet, and had Wave not been a close friend, he would have surely rejected it. A boatload of slaves for the dominating House Cynis, and hidden among them twenty refugees from Chiaroscuro, ready and eager to sign on with Wave and his men. The drop was to be made in broad daylight, under the watchful eye of the Jade Port Authority, the truth separated from the lies through a series of signals.
Halon was terrified, but he tried his best not to let it show. “Bring in the rigging, prepare to dock!” he bellowed, his recently hired crew scrambling to obey. He unconsciously patted the burlap sack at his belt, where his golden hammer rested, a gift from the island spirits. He turned to his Skipper and First Mate, running through some final instructions before the Shadow Runner finally came to rest at a long pier.
The preeminence of the Immaculate Philosophy in Jade was evident everywhere, particularly in the uniforms of the City Watch. Dressed in light, billowing clothing, each man wore white breeches, black sleeves, red tunics, blue sashes and green silk scarves, a garish and motley ensemble that no one looked entirely comfortable wearing. The watch bore spears with wickedly barbed points, and they bustled around the docks, a constant presence.
Halon gulped as one such guard climbed the ramp and boarded the Runner. The man approached Halon, a grimace on his face.
“Papers, please.”
Halon complied, producing a scroll and a leather folder. The guard rifled through the contents, then snorted and handed them back.
“Fifty slaves for Cynis Lyzan. Very well. Our men are a bit behind today, so it will be several minutes before we are prepared to unload. I believe there is a man below who wishes to speak to you.” Halon smiled and extended his hand, thanking the guard for his help. The guard looked at the hand and simply walked away, a pained look in his eyes. Halon continued his gaze down the plank, where his eyes settled on a figure swathed in brown, homespun clothing, thin and slight of build, and grinning widely.
Halon grinned himself, making his way down the plank and embracing the man. “Wave, it is good to see you.”
Wave chuckled and replied, “If only it were under less dire circumstances. It has been too long, Halon. How are things in The Neck?”
“Life is good, and the people are well. My father has left me the company entirely- the ship is mine now. I had to buy a new crew, though- the old men wished to retire.”
Wave grunted. “Come, let us walk.” Wave and Halon strode down the pier, chatting amiably, both secretly fearing the trade off that was about to be made. Halon was the first to break into those waters.
“They’re demanding more tribute, you know. Sometimes I wish that the Anathema would return, if only to give them something to draw their attention.” He half-chuckled.
“The Dynasts may be bastards, Halon, but if a millenia of stories is to be believed, the Anathema are worse. I have little inclination to deal with either of their types.”
“Indeed....it looks as if the men are ready to unload. Come, let us supervise.”
The two friends returned to the loading dock, where the Skipper was overseeing the slaves’ departure. Halon noted that the slaves had been separated into two columns, as was ordered. Even he did not know what the resistance fighters concealed within looked like, so he crossed his fingers in the hope that the Skipper interpreted their signals right, especially under the watchful eye of the multicolored Port Authority.
A new column of guards approached, clad in drab olive green, and led away one column of slaves down the main thoroughfare. The others were led away by the Port Authority down a smaller street. Satisfied, Halon told the Skipper that the crew had shore leave and was to report back to the Runner at dawn the next day.
As he left, Halon’s supernatural perceptions caught the nearly imperceptible nod that was exchanged between a distant Port Authority guard and the Skipper. Now eminently wary, Halon unconsciously drifted his hand to the bundle at his waist and walked on.
Wave rejoined him after a few feet, telling him that he had some business to take care of, and that he would meet him at the Tavern just down Accordant Way when he was finished. Halon nodded and traveled straight to the Tavern, casting a grim glance towards a duo of watchful guards.
After several minutes of walking, Halon reached the meeting place and entered through the front door, freezing immediately. Inside, his men were being shackled and led out the back door by a group of rainbow guards. They cast forlorn looks at Halon, and the guards followed their glares, their eyes resting securely on the distinctive blue goatee that they had been told to watch for.
Halon caught the movement of a tall, powerfully built blond man swathed in black towards the back of the room, and in an instant cast aside his bundle, revealing his magnificent golden hammer. The guards motioned for another to take the chain gang away quickly while they stayed and handled this miscreant.
Halon leapt upon the tables and twirled down into his foes, downing two instantaneously as his hammer crashed into their heads in quick succession. Behind the counter, Halon caught the blond man drawing a huge sword crafted of the same metal as Halon’s hammer. The man did a cartwheel that belied his size over the counter, a large foot crunching a man’s skull as he hit the ground, dipping and lashing his blade up to hamstring another guard, who fell to the ground screaming.
The men quickly dispatched, Halon took one look at his blond helper and turned to the back door, rushing out. The blond man followed quickly behind, uttering protests for Halon to wait. He paid them no heed- he would not be duped into trusting someone again.
As soon as he stepped into the alley, a group of arrows whizzed just before his face, the edge of one arrowhead making a miniscule cut across the bridge of his nose. Spinning, he jumped onto a nearby crate and scrambled onto the roof, blond man quickly following.
When he reached the roof, he quickly knelt beneath a gable as the blond man approached.
“That’s an impressive hammer you have there,” he said.
“It was a gift from the spirits of my island,” Halon replied, not sure he believed that himself.
“It takes a special man to wield such a weapon.”
“It takes nothing but strength and skill. I am no more special than the others around me. Now leave me alone. If you can’t see, I have some trouble on my hands.”
“If you can’t see, we’re in the same boat,” snapped the blond man. “We need to get out of the city. Do you know a way?”
Halon wiped the sweat from his brow. “I have a ship, a fast one. It’s moored in the docks.”
“But didn’t your crew just get arrested?”
Halon grimaced. “I....need no crew. The stone protects me.”
“The stone?”
“Yes, the stone.” Halon tapped the dark blue stone set into his hammer. As if in response, the lighter blue streaks within seemed to ripple, and scraps of white foam showed within.
Talak couldn’t help but grin. “I hope you’re less ignorant than you let on.” An arrow thudded into the wall above them. He ducked reflexively. “Slow bastards, but their catching on. Come, lets make our way to the docks, then.”
Halon nodded and took off in a sprint, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, the blond man having no trouble keeping up. Arrows thudded into the shingles behind them as men shouted below, calling for more help. It did not take long for Halon to reach the docks, but what he saw did not please him.
The Shadow Runner was gone.
Halon looked on in shock as he fell to his knees, hands falling limp at his sides. How? How could they move it so damned fast? How could he have been so foolish as to leave it in the hands of a known traitor?
The blond man arrived seconds later, and looked down upon the now empty docks.
“Well, where’s your ship?” he inquired. Halon looked dejectedly at his hands.
“It’s....gone,” he replied forlornly.
The blond man grunted. “What was it that the Immaculate Pasiap said? ‘Patience in all things, for patience is awareness and awareness is strength’? Do not resign yourself to this fate yet. There still may be hope...both to escape and to recover your ship.”
“How?”
“The Port Authority building itself. The master ledger. It keeps records of all ships that enter or leave the harbor. If your ship has been taken, it will tell us where and when. It can also help us find an alternate means of escape.”
“Where is this building?”
The blond man pointed. “It is that one, there. With the vaulted roof...no, not there. That’s it.”
Halon nodded, plans already formulating in his mind at a mind-boggling rate. “There’s no time for anything really elaborate,” he began. The blond man grinned.
“I get it, I get it. Don’t worry, I’ll handle the frontal assault. You just get in there and find that ledger.”
Halon nodded, and the two men leapt to the next rooftop, intent on their course of action...
END OF SESSION 1, PART 1
Stay tuned for Session 1, Part 2, where Halon and his new friend assault the Port Authority building and make their daring escape, making a new and terrible enemy in the process- the cunning and ruthless Peleps Jiran, a man relentlessly dedicated to track Halon down and bring him to divine justice...
So, Rising Tides comes into play. A first attempt at an Exalted game, this is a one-on-one affair (as of yet) that was sort of spur of the moment. It's only had one session so far, but it was so eventful that I wasn't able to fit it all into the hour or so of labor I put into it tonight. So, for now, the opening teaser. Enjoy.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
Halon, the Protagonist: Talented and lucky merchant of the Wavecrest Archipelago, unwitting Solar Exalted of the Eclipse Caste.
Magnificent Rushing Wave: His longtime friend and confidante, leader of a growing anti-Dynast resistance movement in the city of Jade.
Talak: A mysterious blond Northerner who enounters Halon seemingly by chance in a Jade bar.
Session 1, Part 1:
...The bells of Jade harbor tolled as the Shadow Runner rushed towards the opening tide gates, a majestic sight against the glorious backdrop. The sharp keel of the ship’s hull cut swiftly through the waves, and Halon’s hair was blown about by the wind and sea spray, a million rainbows reflecting in the mist. The sky was a perfect sapphire, unmarred by clouds, the sun shining brightly at its zenith. Halon was pleased- the trip had gone off without a hitch, and if he didn’t know better, he would say that the spirits looked with favor upon his voyage.
Not yet, he chided himself, ever aware of the teeming mass of desperate humanity beneath his feet, in the holds. Magnificent Rushing Wave, his childhood friend, had begun a small resistance movement in Jade, and Halon had been running chores for him for the past year. Still, Wave’s operation lacked the manpower necessary to make any sort of impact. This run was the most dangerous yet, and had Wave not been a close friend, he would have surely rejected it. A boatload of slaves for the dominating House Cynis, and hidden among them twenty refugees from Chiaroscuro, ready and eager to sign on with Wave and his men. The drop was to be made in broad daylight, under the watchful eye of the Jade Port Authority, the truth separated from the lies through a series of signals.
Halon was terrified, but he tried his best not to let it show. “Bring in the rigging, prepare to dock!” he bellowed, his recently hired crew scrambling to obey. He unconsciously patted the burlap sack at his belt, where his golden hammer rested, a gift from the island spirits. He turned to his Skipper and First Mate, running through some final instructions before the Shadow Runner finally came to rest at a long pier.
The preeminence of the Immaculate Philosophy in Jade was evident everywhere, particularly in the uniforms of the City Watch. Dressed in light, billowing clothing, each man wore white breeches, black sleeves, red tunics, blue sashes and green silk scarves, a garish and motley ensemble that no one looked entirely comfortable wearing. The watch bore spears with wickedly barbed points, and they bustled around the docks, a constant presence.
Halon gulped as one such guard climbed the ramp and boarded the Runner. The man approached Halon, a grimace on his face.
“Papers, please.”
Halon complied, producing a scroll and a leather folder. The guard rifled through the contents, then snorted and handed them back.
“Fifty slaves for Cynis Lyzan. Very well. Our men are a bit behind today, so it will be several minutes before we are prepared to unload. I believe there is a man below who wishes to speak to you.” Halon smiled and extended his hand, thanking the guard for his help. The guard looked at the hand and simply walked away, a pained look in his eyes. Halon continued his gaze down the plank, where his eyes settled on a figure swathed in brown, homespun clothing, thin and slight of build, and grinning widely.
Halon grinned himself, making his way down the plank and embracing the man. “Wave, it is good to see you.”
Wave chuckled and replied, “If only it were under less dire circumstances. It has been too long, Halon. How are things in The Neck?”
“Life is good, and the people are well. My father has left me the company entirely- the ship is mine now. I had to buy a new crew, though- the old men wished to retire.”
Wave grunted. “Come, let us walk.” Wave and Halon strode down the pier, chatting amiably, both secretly fearing the trade off that was about to be made. Halon was the first to break into those waters.
“They’re demanding more tribute, you know. Sometimes I wish that the Anathema would return, if only to give them something to draw their attention.” He half-chuckled.
“The Dynasts may be bastards, Halon, but if a millenia of stories is to be believed, the Anathema are worse. I have little inclination to deal with either of their types.”
“Indeed....it looks as if the men are ready to unload. Come, let us supervise.”
The two friends returned to the loading dock, where the Skipper was overseeing the slaves’ departure. Halon noted that the slaves had been separated into two columns, as was ordered. Even he did not know what the resistance fighters concealed within looked like, so he crossed his fingers in the hope that the Skipper interpreted their signals right, especially under the watchful eye of the multicolored Port Authority.
A new column of guards approached, clad in drab olive green, and led away one column of slaves down the main thoroughfare. The others were led away by the Port Authority down a smaller street. Satisfied, Halon told the Skipper that the crew had shore leave and was to report back to the Runner at dawn the next day.
As he left, Halon’s supernatural perceptions caught the nearly imperceptible nod that was exchanged between a distant Port Authority guard and the Skipper. Now eminently wary, Halon unconsciously drifted his hand to the bundle at his waist and walked on.
Wave rejoined him after a few feet, telling him that he had some business to take care of, and that he would meet him at the Tavern just down Accordant Way when he was finished. Halon nodded and traveled straight to the Tavern, casting a grim glance towards a duo of watchful guards.
After several minutes of walking, Halon reached the meeting place and entered through the front door, freezing immediately. Inside, his men were being shackled and led out the back door by a group of rainbow guards. They cast forlorn looks at Halon, and the guards followed their glares, their eyes resting securely on the distinctive blue goatee that they had been told to watch for.
Halon caught the movement of a tall, powerfully built blond man swathed in black towards the back of the room, and in an instant cast aside his bundle, revealing his magnificent golden hammer. The guards motioned for another to take the chain gang away quickly while they stayed and handled this miscreant.
Halon leapt upon the tables and twirled down into his foes, downing two instantaneously as his hammer crashed into their heads in quick succession. Behind the counter, Halon caught the blond man drawing a huge sword crafted of the same metal as Halon’s hammer. The man did a cartwheel that belied his size over the counter, a large foot crunching a man’s skull as he hit the ground, dipping and lashing his blade up to hamstring another guard, who fell to the ground screaming.
The men quickly dispatched, Halon took one look at his blond helper and turned to the back door, rushing out. The blond man followed quickly behind, uttering protests for Halon to wait. He paid them no heed- he would not be duped into trusting someone again.
As soon as he stepped into the alley, a group of arrows whizzed just before his face, the edge of one arrowhead making a miniscule cut across the bridge of his nose. Spinning, he jumped onto a nearby crate and scrambled onto the roof, blond man quickly following.
When he reached the roof, he quickly knelt beneath a gable as the blond man approached.
“That’s an impressive hammer you have there,” he said.
“It was a gift from the spirits of my island,” Halon replied, not sure he believed that himself.
“It takes a special man to wield such a weapon.”
“It takes nothing but strength and skill. I am no more special than the others around me. Now leave me alone. If you can’t see, I have some trouble on my hands.”
“If you can’t see, we’re in the same boat,” snapped the blond man. “We need to get out of the city. Do you know a way?”
Halon wiped the sweat from his brow. “I have a ship, a fast one. It’s moored in the docks.”
“But didn’t your crew just get arrested?”
Halon grimaced. “I....need no crew. The stone protects me.”
“The stone?”
“Yes, the stone.” Halon tapped the dark blue stone set into his hammer. As if in response, the lighter blue streaks within seemed to ripple, and scraps of white foam showed within.
Talak couldn’t help but grin. “I hope you’re less ignorant than you let on.” An arrow thudded into the wall above them. He ducked reflexively. “Slow bastards, but their catching on. Come, lets make our way to the docks, then.”
Halon nodded and took off in a sprint, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, the blond man having no trouble keeping up. Arrows thudded into the shingles behind them as men shouted below, calling for more help. It did not take long for Halon to reach the docks, but what he saw did not please him.
The Shadow Runner was gone.
Halon looked on in shock as he fell to his knees, hands falling limp at his sides. How? How could they move it so damned fast? How could he have been so foolish as to leave it in the hands of a known traitor?
The blond man arrived seconds later, and looked down upon the now empty docks.
“Well, where’s your ship?” he inquired. Halon looked dejectedly at his hands.
“It’s....gone,” he replied forlornly.
The blond man grunted. “What was it that the Immaculate Pasiap said? ‘Patience in all things, for patience is awareness and awareness is strength’? Do not resign yourself to this fate yet. There still may be hope...both to escape and to recover your ship.”
“How?”
“The Port Authority building itself. The master ledger. It keeps records of all ships that enter or leave the harbor. If your ship has been taken, it will tell us where and when. It can also help us find an alternate means of escape.”
“Where is this building?”
The blond man pointed. “It is that one, there. With the vaulted roof...no, not there. That’s it.”
Halon nodded, plans already formulating in his mind at a mind-boggling rate. “There’s no time for anything really elaborate,” he began. The blond man grinned.
“I get it, I get it. Don’t worry, I’ll handle the frontal assault. You just get in there and find that ledger.”
Halon nodded, and the two men leapt to the next rooftop, intent on their course of action...
END OF SESSION 1, PART 1
Stay tuned for Session 1, Part 2, where Halon and his new friend assault the Port Authority building and make their daring escape, making a new and terrible enemy in the process- the cunning and ruthless Peleps Jiran, a man relentlessly dedicated to track Halon down and bring him to divine justice...
