Oh dang. After... well, almost a hundred sessions and nineteen 'episodes,' The Tales of the Moonlight Maiden has hit what I think of as the end of the season. This isn't the end of the story, or these characters, but it's a point to pause and work out where we're going from here and gaze upon new journeys to come.
Also, sorry this took so long, but the fight took a couple of sessions, and then I wanted to write an epilogue as well (which I shared with my players separately but is part of this post).
As I type this we're still hammering out details on what comes next, as my group and I are discussing possibly switching over to using Exalted Essence and playing some different characters for a bit to change it up. Naturally, unless something happens, we will be circling back to these characters (converted over, of course) in time.
Also, quick note, as I've done with big dramatic battles in the past, I may make slight tweaks to the presentation of the order of attacks for the purposes of flow, and leave out little stuff that doesn't directly contribute to the fight like NPCs trying and failing to attack, characters who've been knocked down getting back up, etc. I probably go into way too much detail on these fights as it is, but the draw of the cinematic description is too strong for me. As always, feel free to comment on whether I need to dial it back.
With that, I can't think of anything else to add to this at the moment, so let's get into it...
The Lunars leave Salt-Founded Glory in bird form. They follow the canals south, the moonlight glittering on the surface fading as they eventually dry up. They catch glimpses in the distance of more fighting to the west, closer to the coast. This far inland, there doesn't seem to be much damage yet, but noone can say if the cities' defenders can make it in time to spare the villages dotting the map.
Eventually the former capital of An-Teng lays before them, ruined by war and death. Now known as the City of Dead Flowers, its canals are clogged with salted earth, with broken buildings of ivory and teak still standing in the soggy ground. Around the edge of the city they can see shrines to the Pale Mistress where mortals pray for the goddess to stay her hand from any more death, and to perhaps contain the evil of the place from spreading outward. A swampy, half-dead riverbed leads further inland where once the River of Queens flowed, before the Dragon-Blooded diverted it after the Usurpation.
The Palace of the Lotus sits at the city center, former home and current resting place of the last High Queen from the era of Solar rule, surrounded by ruins inhabited by both the living and the dead. Only one inhabitant is extant, however -- a pale man dressed in Immaculate monk's robes blatantly reworked into a funeral garment. The man stares defiantly at a ship floating on a cloud of blood-mist that wafts up from a canal filled with rotten burgundy ichor. Standing around the edges of the cloud is an army of zombies, some of them fresh, some of them practically skeletons, and even from a distance the group can see the tracks that suggest they've walked here, perhaps gathered en route. While the land itself is already effectively dead, a trail of obvious blight can be seen tracing back to the coast in the distance.
A figure wrapped in airy robes underneath a long flowing coat and other garments strolls halfway down a gangplank hanging in mid-air like an extended tongue. Their face gleams with obsidian shards, like a deathmask shattered and glued on in in pieces, black and jagged and catching the light at weird angles as it moves. Atop it all is a broad black hat with a fish's skeleton tucked into the band like a feather. At their hip they wear a cutlass in a sheath of white jade inlaid with pearl, standing out against the otherwise-dark clothing like a streak of moonlight through the clouds.
"Stand aside, Shatterer of the Way," they say, their voice carrying despite their seemingly-calm demeanor. "I have not spoken with the High Queen in too long, and we would have words."
"You have no place here, pirate," the man in the robes says, his forced calm making him seem haughty and arrogant. "Your authority ends at the coast. These lands are claimed."
The Captain of the Ashen Umbra snorts. "If your master is so very worried about the City of Dead Flowers, their power would be seen here. Where is the Legion Sanguinary? Where is the First and Forsaken Lion?" They stop and look around with exaggerated movements, mugging for an unseen audience. "All I see is an under-appreciated servant, set aside like a forgotten toy until your master knows what to do with you."
"Where do we see your power, pirate? As ancient as you are, you have died once already. I am Exalted, and we were Chosen to slay scarier things than you."
The obsidian shards of the mask shift as eyes widen and then narrow. Then the head leans back and laughs, a sound like someone trying to rip a rusty gate off at the hinge. The ship lowers down, still resting on its cushion of blood-mist, almost settling into the canal in front of the Palace of the Lotus. The Captain steps the rest of the way to the end of the gangplank, armored boots with moonsilver buckles clicking with their steps. At the base of the gangplank back up on the deck, Obsidian Hand of Vengeance -- the nephwrack the Circle encountered in Smolder -- waits for a signal. On either side of him, rotting female figures with massive vulture wings sprouting from their backs stand at the railing like birds on a windowsill, with more behind him.
The captain stops, standing on the gangplank, within spitting distance of the robed Abyssal.
"Your master has left you starving out here, Child of Dust. I offer you a banquet feast, but if you insist on a taste first, I can be hospitable. In fact, just in case this meal would be a little too spicy for you..." They draw the sword on their hip and casually toss it to the side, where it perfectly slots through the rib cage of a skeleton, held there as if carefully placed on a rack. "Crew? Gimme a beat!"
They hold up one hand and snap their fingers, and a ripple that the Lunars can feel in their bones sweeps forth as the undead army begins to stomp. What initially seems to be unordered chaos quickly resolves into a complex rhythm both familiar and strange. They've heard it before, in Darthon, where it is drummed out by the islanders in honor of the beloved ancestors of Shasaman Island. But now one of those ancestors, driven mad with power twice over, perverts that ritual to accompany their movements as they spring forward into a cartwheel that nearly shatters the Abyssal's skull.
They land in a stance that immediately slides to another and then yet another with erratic, dance-like steps. Shatterer of the Way immediately shifts into Immaculate stances, his techniques backed by Exalted might, but his combat experience is measured in a fraction of a human lifespan. His opponent's been practicing their techniques since before the styles he's learned came into existence. Maybe it's simply not as obvious within arm's reach, but from a distance the group can see the Captain of the Ashen Umbra move with enough precision to draw the Moonshadow Caste into their dance where he can't even perceive how outclassed he is.
Hǎifēng steps out from behind a building, holding up the starmetal bracelet Omari-Khenti gave them some months back for a moment like this one. "Omari wants you to come home and stop all this nonsense," they announce.
Everyone stops, startled by the Lunar's appearance.
The Captain of the Ashen Umbra takes a moment to process that, and Hǎifēng continues. "Come on, we were friends once, a long time ago. Let's stop this now before it gets any worse."
"Of course you found them," the Deathlord says when they see the bracelet. "Of course it's you. It can't get much worse than this. My world was destroyed, by the crooked Viziers and the Terrestrials. I lost everything, and I will bend Creation in half, burn it, do whatever to get it back."
Hǎifēng tells them that they can't get it back even if they rebuild, and they reiterate that Omari wants them to come home. But if this continues, they're going to kick the Captain's ass.
At this point Gou swoops in in osprey form, grabbing the Captain's blade and flying off with it, trying to keep it from its owner. He drops it in some brush a good distance away. At the same time, Xương drops out of the sky in his scraggly parrot form, shifting into his hybrid shape on the way down and doing what I presume is the three-point 'superhero' landing.
"I cannot wait to see how your dance moves fare against brute fuckin' force," the Full Moon snarls.
Any attempt to talk the Captain down was effectively ended when Gou grabbed the sword, so the cutscene wraps up and it's time to cue the battle music.
Hǎifēng shifts into Dreaming Pearl Courtesan Form, favoring the stance that Omari initially taught them over the subtle nuances they picked up from Jotaro. Xương, similarly, takes a ready stance as his Essence infuses the area, causing spectral shark-forms to float and 'swim' through the air around him. Gou, returning from dropping off the sword, blazes with his anima as he tries to summon every osprey he can.
The buzzard-women (whom I'm just going to call the Buzzards from here on out)[0] swoop down from the deck of the ship to dive-bomb Xương and Hǎifēng with spears. And while Hǎifēng has to dance between them, Xương's able to stand his ground and stare them down, causing the ones attacking him to flinch out of the way.
Meanwhile, while all this is going on, as they weather assaults from Shatterer of the Way, the Captain of the Ashen Umbra settles back into the rhythm being stomped out in the background, shifting into a stance for Sonorous Festival Style.[1] Combined with the zombies' percussive accompaniment, the Deathlord's movements are so graceful and entrancing that the other characters find themselves drawn into the rhythm, their own attacks and defenses influenced as if part of a choreographed dance. All the while, in the background, the Captain's sword flies back towards the battle of its own accord.
Xương... does not handle this well. He begins bellowing a hellish sea shanty about a pirate crew sailing an ocean of blood to drown out the zombies as he wades into the horde to tear them up, trying to disrupt their dance. Gou's summoned ospreys arrive and join in while the Lunar draws his weapons and moves into range.
Meanwhile, Hǎifēng finds themselves clambering on top of buildings and ruins to dodge both the Captain of the Ashen Umbra's attacks and dive-bombing from the Buzzards, who also try to take a chunk out of Xương but can't stop his rampage. Obsidian Hand of Vengeance, having moved off the ship and into striking range, takes a swing at Hǎifēng with his daiklave but one of Xương's spectral sharks from his anima banner interferes, grabbing him and wrestling him to the ground.
Having kept ahead of the attacks and trying to get their distance, Hǎifēng decides to get serious, and calls upon the ultimate charm of Dreaming Pearl Courtesan Style... Invoking the Chimera's Coils. I'll be honest, this is a weird enough power that I dunno if I can do it justice, but I'll do my best describe the transformation Hǎifēng undergoes as they acknowledge and cast off the veils of illusion and selfhood that separate their true essence from the world...
Their neck lengthens up towards the heavens as they grow up to five times their normal height, while their head lengthens into a draconic muzzle. Their body is covered in white fur with lavender running down the sides, and horns adorn their brow, and their arms and legs vanish while opalescent fins like those of a carp hold her new form aloft in the air. Their eyes turn black and a third appears on their face, while countless other eyes run down either side of their snout and continue down their back, ranging from the size of small pearls to that of goose eggs, blazing like sapphires in the noonday sun. They float in the air, this long draconic shape kinda like a more flexible Falkor.
As Hǎifēng settles into their new shape, Xương focuses on the more mundane task of tearing up the zombies, singing his shanty as loud as he can, getting angrier and louder to drown out the beat as he smashes enough of them to disrupt the Captain's magic that's tugging at all of them. Gou focuses on the Buzzards up above, using his superior Exalted speed to dash back and forth through them, slashing and tearing at them with his daiklave, until they quickly scatter to the winds.
The Captain of the Ashen Umbra turns their attention to Xương, as his sharks are actively interfering in attempts to go after his allies. They go to strike at the shark Lunar but Hǎifēng zips into place between them. The eyes on their face shut and then open wide as they let out a psychic scream that sounds like music to the other Lunars but Captain Ash hears only the wails of their dead family, staggering them and redirecting their attack against their nephwrack lieutenant. This opens up Xương to take a swing at the Deathlord, hitting but only barely. Hǎifēng then gets a follow-up attack, lashing out at the Captain with their tail.
The Captain's sword, First Mate, is close enough to zip up and counterattack, seemingly held aloft by a translucent figure as it moves, but Hǎifēng twists and curls around the attack. The sword keeps swinging at Hǎifēng, but with Xương's assistance they dodge the strike and redirect its attack against Obsidian Hand of Vengeance as well. Hǎifēng lifts up into the air, floating back and forth, sweeping with their tail like a war fan at the Captain of the Ashen Umbra, who barely manages to slip out of the way.
While the Deathlord is distracted by Hǎifēng and Xương, Gou uses a combination of Charms to draw a feather from his body coated with some sort of volatile fluid, load it into Weirdflame, and fire it as a blast of something like napalm. He barely hits the Captain of the Ashen Umbra, but 'barely' is still enough to embed the burning, acidic projectile in their body. The ospreys add not only insult to injury but further injury of their own, tearing up both the Captain and Obsidian Hand of Vengeance.
Snarling with anger, Captain Ash lashes out at Xương with all of their pain, with a kick that still isn't enough to stun the Lunar but it's still harder than he's been hit in a long time.
While the Captain is focused on Xương, Hǎifēng arches back and breathes out a cloud of razor sharp cherry blossoms. First Mate tries to intervene, parrying several of the cherry blossoms, straining its own power and speed in the process. Xương strikes at the sword, trying to swat it away, recognizing it as the next barrier between the Lunars and hitting the Captain.
Meanwhile, tired of this direct fighting nonsense, Obsidian Hand of Vengeance unleashes his madness into the world, filling the heads of the living with nightmarish visions and the whispers of the Neverborn.
As the group contends with the psychic assault, movement and noise indicate someone entering the fray from a nearby street. It appears to be two groups of people working together -- one a regimented fighting force with spears and silver and blue armor in a style that hasn't been seen since at least the Shogunate, the other a looser series of combatants with clothing and tattoos that the group recognizes...
The latter are the Shimmerside Corsairs, led by Jaspio Tesa in her full God-blooded glory. Several among her number are blazing with anima banners of their own as they move to combat the Captain's forces in the background. The army they're supplementing isn't nearly as familiar, but Hǎifēng gets a glimpse of their captain, a woman in red armor in the same style -- she appears middle-aged, with light-brown skin, and while Hǎifēng doesn't quite recognize her, she glances up and meets their gaze and they get a quick flash to an earlier time...
They're standing next to their mate on the balcony overlooking the courtyard of their Yu-Shan estate. A private army of soldiers in that same armor -- their private house guard, Gens Kedjani -- drills with their newly-Exalted captain. Their mate's eyes gleam with pride, flickering silver, as he regales them of an epic tale of string-pulling and social manipulation to manage the feat of getting a pre-Exalted Sidereal into their house guard. And now that she's received Mars' blessings, she's taking her place in charge of their private force.The young woman, her skin light brown, her face not yet weathered by over a thousand years of age and her eyes not yet dulled by the horrors of the Usurpation to come, looks up the two of them. The Demon's Laughter on Ocean Tides asks what her name is, and their mate opens his mouth to answer...
The memory fades. Hǎifēng's not sure who she is[2], but they recognize that they know her, and can trust her. She and the Corsairs are here to help.
Back in the present, where there isn't time for further flashbacks, Gou drops out of the sky to blast Obsidian Hand of Vengeance with the devil caster as he struggles with the hallucinations. After all, he's tapped into the full power of Weirdflame earlier, and is still blazing with his own manic thought processes, so he certainly doesn't appreciate yet more noise in his head. His summoned ospreys continue their own assault, actually starting to seriously interfere with the Captain and the nephwrack by this point. First Mate, struggling to strike at them, actually cuts into a stone wall and shakes a few times, lodged fully, before going still.[3]
With the Captain of the Ashen Umbra off-balance from the birds' assault, Hǎifēng lunges at the Deathlord, striking at them from multiple directions and trying to crush them like the most painful hug. Captain Ash puts everything they've got into keeping ahead of and resisting the strikes, but their power begins to waver until they leave the perfect opening. Hǎifēng then lets out a roar, and a halo appears around their head to rain golden needles down onto Captain Ash, piercing them all over.
Xương lunges at the Captain of the Ashen Umbra, trying to knock their head in one direction and their body in the other. They drag their rough shagreen hide through the Deathlord's plasm, tearing them apart. The Captain's form starts to collapse, ichor and plasm sublimating into mist and motes of Essence. They look into the shark Lunar's eyes with an ancient hatred beyond the grasp of someone who hasn't lived even a single lifetime.
"Lost so much... Not dead, gone..." they gurgle. "I'll peel reality like a mango to find them... I'll be back, I'm beyond death... and when I come back, I'll find you first..." they hiss as they dissolve into dust and ash that dissolves into the night breeze.
In the background, the Nightmare's Unyielding Grip begins to drift on its cloud of blood mist back towards the coast, as if carried by an unseen tide, left floating without its captain.
Nearby, Obsidian Hand of Vengeance recognizes where this is going and has already begun to fade out, not wanting to be a loose end to clean up now that the main event is over. Just as he goes to give the Lunars the finger again, something blurs into view behind him... A figure in the robes of a monk, wreathed in purple Essence, accompanied by a 'constellation' of stars in the shape of a swooping hawk.
Starmetal claws punch through the unwitting nephwrack's chest from behind, as the form of Watchful Talon comes more into focus. "Absolutely not," he says to the powerful ghost as he dissolves into Essence and discorporates. The Chosen of Endings looks at the Lunars and tells them he doesn't expect them to know who he is, but he wants them to know they've done Creation a great service and, well... they're even.[4] Gou, recognizing him on some level, gives him a nod. He says he shouldn't linger, and slips into the shadows as the Lunars catch their breath.
The sounds of battle echo for a little longer through the ruins of the City of Dead Flowers, as undead monstrosities and phantom beasts rampage without a captain to lead them. The unfortunates, innocent and otherwise, who live within the shadowland's ruins emerge from their bunkers in the wake of the Deathlord's defeat. They've huddled in what safety they can muster upon seeing and hearing the encroaching darkness, speaking to refugees fleeing inland from villages to the west. But the Captain's fall and the slow departure of the Nightmare's Unyielding Grip serves as a spark of hope leading them out with any weapons and charms they can carry to retake what home they have.
It helps that the reinforcements have arrived to cleanse what remains of the Captain's forces from the ruin. The rest of the fleet attacked An-Teng, as the Captain had much to do and only so many hours in the night, and choices were made. But this meant that what monstrosities had accompanied their journey from the sea -- made in the living world, to better acquire bodies -- were meager enough to be eradicated by a small force. Or two small forces, as the case may be.
The Shimmerside Corsairs, led by God-blooded Sable Dragon Jaspio Tesa, sweep through the ruin to deal with individual creatures that need that attention -- many opportunistically following in the chaos, rather than part of the Captain's force -- while Hollow Thunder and the martial forces of Gens Kedjani deal with clearing the streets of the undead swarm. The Corsairs, with their greater number of Terrestrials and more experience in one-on-one fights, are better equipped to slay mortwights and a few packs of rogue, ghoul-like kaleyi that have wandered too far from their Mistress' control. The Kedjani, descendants of a pre-Shogunate fighting force that once served the Solar Host, make up for lack of practical experience with well-trained precision and the leadership of a Chosen of Battles who has nurtured the family since the Usurpation.
The two clans, only meeting for the first time in the last few hours, find they work well together, a bright spot of promise blooming in the dead soil of the city.
Far to the south, in distant Goldenseal, spring mist clings to a trio of cloaks moving along a quiet pier. The docks are more crowded from merchants and the like who've fled the passage of the Ashen Fleet in the last couple of weeks, but the chaos works to conceal subtle movements.
Jotaro of the Flowing Silk, Copper Orchid, and 'Hopeless Spring' (portrayed by Kedjani Varan in Hollow Thunder's absence) stop next to a relatively nondescript merchant vessel. Jotaro's been on edge the last hour or so, and not hiding it as well as he usually does. Copper Orchid knows better than to ask why; he's certain it's about Hǎifēng, but he's picked up on enough to know the details wouldn't comfort him.
"This ship should get you back to An-Teng with decent enough speed. Much of your luggage should be among the cargo they're hauling for us," the Solar explains to Copper Orchid. "I'm not going to insult your intelligence by asking you the usual questions people ask in this moment, just..."
"It's okay. I know the names, I know what to say."
"And make sure you--"
"--go to the Wandering Cat Teahouse, order the White Blossom tea and the spiced dumplings."
Jotaro nods and glances north for what must be the twentieth time in as many minutes, staring into space for a moment.
"I know this is an Exalt thing, so I'm not gonna ask," Copper Orchid says after a moment. "But they're going to be fine."
"Hollow Thunder's gonna be there, Boss," Varan chimes in. She leaves out that she'd be there with the rest of her family, if she could. Regardless of the unspoken truth that Hollow Thunder insisted she stay behind primarily for personal reasons, the tactical logic is also overwhelming. Namely, someone has to keep up appearances as Jotaro's bodyguard, both to preserve the façade of normalcy and make sure he doesn't get too nervous and do something foolish.
Fortunately, the simple mention of Jotaro's mentor/ally seems to be all the reassurance he needs, and his casual "all under control" confidence returns like the sun emerging from behind a passing cloud.
"I wish I could have gotten you underway sooner," he sighs to Copper Orchid. "But the shipping lanes are a mess right now, and showing up with perfect timing would stand out too much."
"Oh, I know a thing or two about being fashionably late to the party," the Tengese manager and businessman says with his winning smile.
"Even still, we've got a narrow window of opportunity. You need to get a grip on certain markets while they're in chaos, and..." He cuts off that thought. "Anyhow, if I didn't have so many plates spinning here..."
If I didn't have to keep an eye on Pakpao and Majestic Khadra, is what Jotaro doesn't say.
"...I'd come with you. But I'll be along in time. Hopefully before they show up."
"Well, then, we should get on with it." Copper Orchid's more than ready to go. He doesn't want to be away from his own business longer than necessary, and despite how charming Jotaro is, the mortal's actually gotten a little frustrated with the fussing, micromanagement, and overly-vague worries.
"Yes, you're right." Jotaro nods, and looks over at the ship with its crew preparing to cast off despite the late hour. "You weren't waiting for us, I hope?" he calls out to a brightly colored figure on the deck.
"Not quite," Nekoda the parrotfolk captain says as he stops at the railing. "Just waiting on someone... ah, there we go."
"Apologies for the lateness, Captain," a dark-skinned man dressed in green says as he comes up, a satchel under one arm. "It's late enough I had to wake up a few people to procure the best charms and offerings for a speedy journey."
Nekoda dismissively waves a feathered arm. "Not a problem, Lost Wind. The weather's clear enough we'll make it up on the water, especially if you brought us back anything good?"
"I always deliver, right?" Emerald Owl on Brass Perch, Chosen of SecretsLost Wind confidently pats his satchel containing various charms, baubles, and a hidden pocket concealing Heavenly writs assuring peace from ocean spirits and reports from his office in Yu-Shan. The paperwork, as always, took the longest -- any offices pertaining to the Southwest are very busy right now, and the Celestial Lions have been extra-cautious about security.
Nekoda gives him a look like he's unsure of the answer, but after a split-second nods with sincere confidence. "Of course, of course." With a slight squawk to his voice, the captain calls out "All aboard that's comin' aboard, we're outta here in ten!"
A round of "Aye"s from the crew punctuate the night like echoing bird calls as Lost Wind rushes onto the ship with barely a glance to the incoming passenger and his companions. Copper Orchid makes sure he's got his own traveling bag and follows.
"Thanks again for your understanding and discretion in these trying circumstances," Jotaro says to the parrotman before the latter turns away.
"Like this is the weirdest thing I've had to haul lately," he says with a shrug and a wave before he goes.
"Fair winds and safe travels," Jotaro calls out with a warm smile, watching the crew prepare for departure.
A few moments later, the smile fades and he looks north again.
Further west, Smolder recovers. It's been a couple of weeks since the Ashen Fleet attacked the city, but repairing the damage has been a slow affair -- the harbor is clogged with disabled ships, many of the seaworthy vessels followed in the Fleet's wake towards An-Teng to offer help, and in addition travel's been so dangerous that acquiring needed supplies has been a hassle at best. In any other circumstance, Bokano would treasure a quiet night under Luna's full gaze, but right now it's a reminder of how little she can do at the moment.
She stands on what's left of the second floor of an inn damaged by an implosion bow -- a nasty bit of First Age weaponry. The structure might be too far gone to restore without tearing down and rebuilding, but it's convenient as a temporary command center to be on-hand for the recovery without displacing anyone. It's open enough that she can see most of the town and the docks. Maps and charts spread out on a nearby table; one is clearly used to calculate the movements of the Ashen Fleet, while others chart out routes to Dutan Island, Hisir and the old Manse next to it, and a half-dozen other little spots on the mainland. The expeditionary maps have been neglected, plans slowed by the attack, but Bokano keeps them on-hand just in case. She's over a thousand years old; she knows patience, but she also knows to be ready to seize opportunity.
The Lunar elder lets out a sigh of relief when she recognizes a familiar ship approaching the docks. Before she can go to greet it, quiet (but not hidden) steps approach from behind.
"The last of today's patrols just checked in, everything's clear, no sightings."
"Thank you, Silver Lining." She turns to the apostate monk. He looks like he hasn't slept since his dramatic resignation from the Order a couple of months ago, but now he seems more at peace, like a weight has been lifted and he can more easily carry other burdens. "That makes two days since the last remnant we had to put down. As long as nothing happens before sunrise, I think we can scale that back."
She turns at the maps and then glances vaguely to the northeast. She does some math in her head, and finally looks back to Silver Lining.
"With Luna's favor, this mess will be over soon if it isn't already."
"Dragons willing," the monk agrees.
Bokano doesn't call him out on the habitual expression -- even if there was a point to doing so, she certainly won't complain if the Elemental Dragons do give enough of a crap to help Xương and his Circle in An-Teng. She keeps it to herself out of respect, but personally she has more faith in her allies traveling with and alongside the Lintha crew than she does in the Dragons' will.
A 'whoosh' sound, followed by a thump and a shadow cast over the moonlit room, startles Silver Lining. Bokano calmly turns to see Crimson Mokoro, having leapt up from the ground level in his sthenurine hybrid form.
"Welcome back, Nightwalker. I hope you've had safe travels over the last couple of months." She gives him a quick bow. "You docked quickly. I was just about to come down and meet you."
The tattoo-less Lunar shrugs. "It's not a problem; I heard you talking up here and took the most direct route."
"Speaking of being direct, I take it your arrival means the Princes have agreed to an alliance? It's been a little rough here and I'd appreciate some good news."
"I do indeed bring pleasant tidings from the Princes. I've also brought a hold full of supplies, with more on the way."
Bokano raises an eyebrow.
"Over the course of my journey we became aware of the attack. So the Princes preemptively freed up some resources to help you get things back together."
Bokano smiles -- an uncomfortable expression, given the crablike mandibles she has instead of teeth. "That's the best news I've heard in a good long while; let me see who's awake so we can start unloading."
Much farther west, and beyond the world itself, Omari-Khenti gazes at the dead sky of the Underworld from their spot on the cold beach. For much of the night, something like an aurora has flickered and waved through the sky, a banner of ashen gray that flapped in an increasingly-strong breeze but refused to release its grip to be carried into the void. The banner is gone now -- some time ago, accompanied by a loud crack that echoed through memories of bones, the banner went limp and faded into something like flower petals.
The ancient ghost knows why. They wouldn't say it even if they had someone to say it to. But they know.
Omari feels a chill on their shoulders, like the inverse of a sunbeam's warmth -- or at least what they remember a sunbeam's warmth to be like. They suspect that it has something to do with the fact that it's a full moon in Creation, as if Luna is just waiting in the next room to talk if they need it. Omari can count on one hand the number of times they've felt like Luna has remembered them, but they tell themselves it's a trick of their own mind. They quietly (and a little too firmly) insist that even if Luna didn't turn their face from their Chosen the way the Unconquered Sun did, surely the Incarna of the Moon cares little for the ghosts of whose who went wrong.
Easier to stand alone, in their ancient shame.
They cannot bring themselves to look away from where the banner hung. Even the ongoing eruption of a neighboring island that regularly consumes and rebuilds itself out of mahogany-red lava cannot draw their attention. Through the lapping of the Sea of Shadows over their feet, they can feel the rhythm of drums in another world, a familiar thrumming that reminds them of who they are, and who they were. Some nights they welcome that reminder more than others.
The strange magic of mortal belief draws the Shasaman ghosts from the shadowland of Omari's tomb to sing their part in the regular festivals despite the normal rules of the Underworld's borders, but Omari has always remained behind. Waiting. As if to emerge alone is an admission of failure.
For the first time in a long time, they're ready to consider that maybe the failure is not theirs, that they must not wait in the darkness for a light that's snuffed out.
As they stand alone on the beach, their gaze lowers from the dark and strange sky of the Underworld, and they spot something that stops them from turning. A familiar silhouette, bobbing and drifting on the tide. Masts, sails... the husk of an old friend, without its captain.
Omari raises their ghostly muzzle and howls into the void, mourning a loss that goes beyond even their ancient understanding. They sing the wordless songs of their people, echoes of memories of the dark times before Nebet the Rider of Shadowed Dreams' arrival -- before Omari became Omari-Khenti, guardian of their people. They sing of what they have lost and the love that still sustains them, just in case Luna really is listening... and they sing to what's left of Dreams Written in Clouds to call it home.
Back in the Shore Lands of An-Teng, the full moon shines upon a wounded country. Luna gazes proudly on their Chosen both local and abroad for standing up for a people who do not yet appreciate them. Luna's light shows those people a country saved by the might and grace of 'Anathema,' in the hopes that they dream of what could be instead of having nightmares about what just was or might have been.
For now, in the City of Dead Flowers, the Old Laws that govern the Underworld and shadowlands keep the crew of the Moonlight Maiden within the old capital's borders, perhaps to explore the ruins and seek flickers of forgotten memory or other treasures that may remain after all this time. The Abyssal known as Shatterer of the Way has vanished, perhaps slipped away into one of countless shadows or even braving an Underworld journey to inform his own Deathlord master of what has transpired. Regardless, Luna stands vigil, watching over their heroes, and their eventual repose will also signal to the Lunars that it is time to rest, and catch their breath, and let the daylight world do its part.
But back in Salt-Founded Glory, the Maiden herself patiently awaits -- as she always has -- to take her crew on their next adventure.
Thanks for reading!
[0]-- I don't have a clever name for them, but the 'Buzzards' are reskinned Walkure -- valkyrie-like creatures -- from Hundred Devils Night Parade. I just thought it'd be cool to come up with a Southern version, and the 'desert carrion bird' aesthetic seemed all too appropriate.
[1]-- I haven't gotten too deep into it and it hasn't come up in a while, so as a quick reminder: Sonorous Festival Style is a thing I came up with for the game, a hybrid form of Dreaming Pearl Courtesan Style (which, among other things, incorporates a lot of elegant dance-like movements) and Swaying Grass Dance Style (which is basically capoeira). In addition to being a flavor element for the game, it also means the Captain's got some custom combat mechanics. Not a lot, but enough to make it difficult for someone to be fully confident in their capabilities based solely on the player's knowledge of the component styles.
[2]-- In case it isn't obvious, this is Hollow Thunder.
[3]-- In terms of game mechanics, the battle group of ospreys actually managed to crash the sword (which functioned as its own unit), and this felt like this best way to reflect that.
[4]-- Thing is, 'even' doesn't really begin to factor into it. But saying that is his way of trying to quickly convey to them that regardless of whether he's personally fond of them, there isn't some deep personal beef between them.
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