I know my titles and such are only funny to me. But now that we've gotten the Gateway tournament out of the way, we move into one of the time-honored classics of the blend of fantasy subgenres Exalted uses for its smoothies: The martial arts tournament. (Though this session is primarily talking and setting things up, actual fisticuffs will come next session. This has been an announcement from the Department of Expectation Management.)
Oh, and before we get into it, just letting you know that the Sidereals Kickstarter is in its final week. Sure, there's pre-orders and you can always buy the book later, but if you want a fancy edition of the book and access to a preview manuscript just for backing, now's the time!
First, we start with a little epilogue for the last story.
The day after the premature ending of the Gateway tournament and Shango's match against Ledaal Kes, there's a knock at Xương's door about noon. There's a loud 'thump' as he rolls out of his hammock and goes to answer it.
There's a monk at the door. Again.
Except this time, the monk is Mnemon Arima himself. He confirms that he's talking to Người Kéo Xương, and introduces himself, as this is the first time he and Xương have actually met face to face, though both would have known of each other by reputation even before recent-ish events. He's stopped by to thank Xương for his assistance in recent unpleasant events and says that he is in Xương's debt.
Xương, for his part, is pretty much "aw shucks, 'twern't nothin'" about the whole thing. He says doesn't want to be the sort of doctor that grows his business by letting people get hurt. Arima points out that a lot of doctors wouldn't have done anything -- and in fact, they both know at least a few refused to treat people who'd been afflicted by the Makarios cult. He thanks Xương again for his efforts and reiterates that he owes Xương one. It'd be easy enough to assume he's referring to him in his position as Abbot of the Heartsflow Temple, but it's clear in the moment that he means himself, personally. Xương reiterates he doesn't want to see anyone get hurt, but the day he bites off more than he can chew, he might call in that favor. Arima lets the mask slip for a moment and gives him a knowing, albeit barely noticeable, grin.
And then, at this point, Hǎifēng comes out from the curtained corner where they've been sleeping. They see Arima, not recognizing him beyond that he's a monk[0], and just say "Nope" before turning back and retreating behind the curtain.
Arima raises an eyebrow, though he's clearly not that surprised. Xương just says he treats a lot of hangovers. The Sidereal just pauses, unable to think of something clever to say but not wanting to admit as such. So instead he informs Xương that he's heard personally that the people that the doctor has helped appreciate what he's done. "And not that this necessarily has anything to do with you," he continues. "But there are a bunch of people recently rescued from a cult's basement who are very grateful." (that's a paraphrase, I didn't write down exactly what I said)
Xương remarks that he heard about that as well, and mentions all the drugs that went missing. Arima says they'll likely find their way back into circulation. Xương says he hopes they'll wind up where they should. But at that, the Abbot has said all he's come to say, reiterates that he's in Xương's debt[1], and offers to leave him to his time. He bows and ducks out.
Time passes. We have one of those time-lapse not-quite-montages of the next few weeks passing in Lathe as the group decides to stick around until Calibration to cut down on the risk of being caught out at sea when reality goes offline for maintenance.
We jump ahead to about 3am on the 28th day of Descending Earth. Last day of the year. People are putting up decorations and preparing for the parties that tend to go on during Calibration, as well as turning their mirrors around or otherwise covering them.[2] The group is sitting at something like a yatai, one of those little outdoor noodle stalls, drinking booze served to them by a guy who's clearly an old pirate. He's got some chemical burns on his arms, clearly meant to remove tattoos. Xương tells him that he know a better way to take tattoos off, and the guy says that sometimes he wants it to hurt to remember. Y'know, the sort of conversation you have with a shady bartender in the middle of the night to kick off the equivalent of New Year's Eve.
As they eat and drink, a man with pale, Northern features approaches the group. He looks uneasy and out of place, and not just because his clothing looks like a tourist washed up naked on the shore and just bought the first local outfits he could to try and fit in. He stares at them for a moment, and just when Xương's about to give him some change, assuming a panhandler, the man introduces himself as Itinerant Fable and is there with an offer.[3] Specifically, Shango and Hǎifēng have been invited to appear at a very exclusive martial arts tournament that is going to bring fighters together from all over Creation. Xương is invited along to attend but as 'they' know he's not a martial artist, he's not explicitly invited to participate in the tournament but if he really wants to they'd allow it, or maybe give him an exhibition match or something. Itinerant Fable makes it clear he can still come along to enjoy food, drink, festivities, and carousing. So with that, Xương's on-board.
(Somewhere during all this, the bartender gets the sense that privacy is needed so he ducks out)
Hǎifēng asks what gives Itinerant Fable the idea that they get into fights, and Shango (having a 'glancing at the camera' moment) says it's because they have to defend themself from angry wives and husbands. Xương says that Itinerant Fable is just the messenger and he doesn't necessarily know anything. He quickly adds a 'No offense' to Fable, who says there's none taken, as Xương is right. He pulls out a scroll and says he's just going by his orders -- he turns it around, and it's in Old Realm. Hǎifēng and Shango can't read it, but Xương can, and it really is just the characters' rough descriptions and names.
Xương starts to ask how they accept this invitation as Hǎifēng points out that Xương can fight and should be invited to compete. Fable says that there's a cultural difference between 'being able to fight' and 'being a martial artist,' which everyone basically gets. Hǎifēng, after their recent experiences, then asks the messenger what Third Circle Demon he's working for, and he suddenly looks confused and very concerned. Shango asks what precautions are being taken here. Fable explains that he's not working for any demon, and that there are other forces involved. There was a lot of crosstalk so I missed details in my notes, but I think it comes up at this point that one or more gods are running the tournament. (Xương assumes it's Bahal Hesh, Preceptor of 10,000 Styles, the god of martial arts.)
Hǎifēng apologizes for their rudeness, and Fable says no apologies are needed. He then gets back to Xương's question. He pulls out a small jar of some sort of magic sand. He says that if the group wishes to attend, they take the jar outside and open to the air, preferably private, at midnight. After Calibration begins, as the stars vanish, they throw the sand into the air and the rest will be made clear. He does warn them that if they do attend, depending on how things go they may be stuck in the tournament grounds for all five days of Calibration. He sets down the jar and says he has more jars to deliver if the group has no more questions for him. They don't, so he moves on.
Xương takes a closer look at the sand. It sparkles in the light like there's glitter in it, but it's the color of cinnamon. Hǎifēng's a little annoyed and confused, because they're not sure what the Organizers[4] know about them and why they of all people have been invited. Xương says that they're clearly one of the most skilled martial artists in the Direction (or, Shango observes, at least the region). Hǎifēng's sure there has to be someone better, but Xương shakes the jar and says they can find out.
Hǎifēng is still put out because they've gone to some trouble to separate their public persona from their 'outfit' (in other words, their 'monkey-folk practitioner of Laughing Monster' side). It's strange. Xương says that Hǎifēng's grappling with either fear or curiosity, and they'll see which one wins out, and Hǎifēng says they just have to know. Xương says they just have to sell Shango on it, and there's some back and forth between Shango and Hǎifēng about how the former goes to very little effort to hide what he is, and that if the others hadn't found him, he'd be glowing like a bonfire in the middle of the street and on the Wyld Hunt's radar. Shango gives them the look of a pouty child who knows their parent is right but doesn't want to admit, but he didn't really need any convincing to join in on the tourney.
So we jump ahead to that night, as the locals are getting ready for their 'loud party to appease some entities and ward off others during this dangerous time of the year' festivals. The sky's pretty dark, as it's almost midnight and it's a New Moon. They find a quiet ledge overlooking the water where they can be unobserved. Hǎifēng has brought along two suitcases of clothing. And then, at midnight, the stars start to go out -- beginning five days when the sun, moon, and stars leave the sky. It's like someone's turning off Christmas lights, one string at a time.
Once the last stars are out, a strong breeze begins to blow, and Xương throws the sand into the air. The breeze catches it and as it blows, a bunch of it hangs in the air as if it's sticking to something invisible -- some sort of archway. The rest of the sand swirls around until it all forms this translucent doorway. The space in the middle gets hazy and then begins to ripple like the surface of water, only vertical.
Hǎifēng knocks on the archway, which is a weird sensation because all they can feel are the grains of magic sand, which aren't clumped tightly enough together to make a fully enclosed structure. It's like knocking on an exceptionally sturdy hollow framework. Xương, meanwhile, just walks through the archway and vanishes. Hǎifēng realizes they're being an idiot and they grab their bags and follow, with Shango close behind.
They emerge into some sort of sitting room. The walls and floor are what's best described as artificial wood, with windows to the outside. They get the distinct impression they're on a boat, just from the structure of the room, despite the fact that the windows are actual windows and not portholes. There are snacks and drinks on some tables, comfy chairs, a bowl of hot towels. As soon as Shango steps through, the door behind him closes and then 'fades' into just a design on the wall. One wall has multiple doors while the other has just one.
Once that happens, the craft begins to move, though very smoothly. Shango goes to check the doors, finding some private sleeping quarters on one side and a hallway and stairs leading up on the other. He looks out the window and sees what can best be described as a continent with a glorious magical city in the distance, a mountain of bismuth, a forest of stained glass... all manner of fantastic sights, surrounded by a quicksilver sea dotted with islands. They were clearly in some sort of airship over said quicksilver sea.
While they don't have the experience or knowledge to know this for sure, they're pretty certain this is Heaven. Like, actual Heaven, the realm of the gods. Xương's got a good feeling about this, because this is officially too much trouble just to kill the three of them. They go up onto the deck of the ship -- confirming it is indeed a ship, though the mast rigging is some sort of empty crystal framework without a sail -- and see, standing by the wheel, a god in the form of a man with a badger's head. I don't think I say it out loud ICly (and if I do, it's not until much later), but his name is 'Bageru.'[5] He welcomes them aboard in so many words, apparently wanting to give them some space to adjust before confronting them with why they're here.
Xương asks how much of the space is theirs while they're on the ship, and he informs them they can fully enjoy the amenities. They also ask how long the trip is going to be and whether they're picking anyone else up, and he informs them that it's going to be just the three of them (four, counting himself) and they'll arrive at the arena in about two hours. Xương comments that someone's spent a lot of money on this, and Bageru says that many gods open their purposes to make this event happen. Though, he hastens to add, it's an unofficial affair -- on paper, none of this is happening, it's all off-the-books.
The group theorizes that perhaps Magma Blossom or the Golden Lord is responsible for getting them on the invite list for the tournament, but Bageru says he doesn't know. That's a little beyond his purview.
Xương says that the gods keep giving him faces to punch, so he's gotta be doing something right, and this leads into a discussion about the difference between 'heaven' and 'paradise,' in that 'paradise would be him being able to punch faces forever. Hǎifēng says that Xương's the most violent doctor they've ever known, and this winds up becoming a long, drawn-out joke about a hypothetical future Hippocratic Oath.
The group talks a bit about the event. I'm blanking on just how much detail I went into on some stuff, and some things I meant to explain in a different scene later on but it came up early, so I'm winging it. So I'm gonna summarize, and some stuff might come up in the wrong order, but by the end of the write-up I believe I'll have covered everything. Also, some of this is in direct response to questions, some of it is volunteered by Bageru.
The fights are non-lethal, to submission or judge ruling. There's a non-traditional structure, no clear brackets or anything, but doing well can earn you some sort of boon from the Organizers. For those not interested in the tournament proper but still want to get some exercise, there are options for exhibition matches (and Xương expresses interest in one of these). They've got fighters from all over Creation, including different types of Exalted, and even some lucky mortals. The arena is large, with a circular ring of about 100 yards' diameter for fighting space, but sometimes it changes. It starts off plain and empty, but the Organizers sometimes add terrain over the course of events to keep it interesting.
Hǎifēng, always one to choose the most awkward wording, asks if they can expose themselves. Bageru says they're free to use their powers. He mentions that the group will be given magical masks that partially obscure their identity -- nothing perfect, but enough to offer someone plausible deniability if they encounter someone they know -- and that the masks disguise their anima banners. Now, if one of them transforms or something, people can assume they're dealing with a Lunar. But everyone's anima banners will look the same.
Hǎifēng has what they admit is a rude question. They ask why Heaven doesn't do anything about the Wyld Hunts, about the current situation in Creation, about how the Celestial Exalted are treated. Bageru explains that there's a lot going on in Heaven. That the Celestial Bureaucracy is focused on keeping creation running -- making sure weather happens, managing the movements and habits of animals, keeping reality stable, etc. And while the Incarnae can get directly involved to support their Chosen, doing so is tricky at best. It's hard for the Unconquered Sun or Luna to do anything when the barest expression of their power might flatten and destroy a city... or blow up a volcano. Bageru gives Hǎifēng a pointed look when he mentions the 'volcano' example.
But Bageru expects that with the Solars coming back, that might change a few things. Xương makes sure Bageru knows that someone's 'gotten' to some of them, that they are't proper Solars any more. And he's aware of what Xương's talking about, but Bageru makes it clear that there are still proper Solars out there.
Thinking ahead to the event, Xương says he's going to break the bones of some unsuspecting competitors. Bageru points out that by entering the tournament themselves, they'll certainly be suspecting. And then there's some back and forth where Xương clarifies that he means they won't know what they're getting into, and this leads into some discussion over whether there's any consideration as to healing up between fights. Bageru says that the Organizers can arrange healing if need be.
At this point we fast-forward through some small talk over the course of the rest of the two-hour flight. They approach a large domed structure made of some sort of shining metal, and the airship enters a tunnel along the side and pulls up to what looks to someone in our modern world to be an empty train platform. A single man, dressed like a somewhat-fashionable government functionary in an out of date style with blue skin indicative of a Western background, stands at a podium. (He doesn't give his name but I'll just say here his name is Laughing Knife.) A tree grows out of a pot behind him. Bageru goes to check on their quarters and let them get checked in.
Laughing Knife confirms their names, actually speaking Xương's full name out loud: Lintha Angsana Người Kéo Xương. ("Oooh, I haven't seen a Lintha here in a while!") Xương says there should probably be the word 'Exile' in there too, in the part of the name traditionally reserved for 'Brother' or 'Father' in Lintha communities, and Laughing Knife says it's in his notes but he thought it would be rude to say aloud. He confirms the identities of the others and goes over some of the rules. Again, non-lethal fights, no transformations (with a glance at Shango), no rending people limb from limb.
Each one must also accept a mask that disguises their anima banner and serves as something of a disguise. The disguise isn't any more than a mask would provide, and Laughing Knife explains that there's something of a social contract at work, as they're almost certainly going to run into someone they know and will need to keep from outing anyone's true identity. They won't be able to remove the mask, and it will be removed when they leave or if they're are ejected -- or, when asked, if the worst happens, it'll come off automatically at the end of Calibration. At some point, either earlier or now, it's made clear that the mask conforms to their face and moves with them so they can eat and stuff, and it will transform with them.
Hǎifēng asks if they'll have time to recover from the matches, and Laughing Knife assures them that they will. Xương dreads having to wear the mask, expecting it to be hell on his skin. The man at the podium assures him that after a couple of hours he'll probably forget he's wearing it. He also adds, if I recall correctly, that the Organizers have made sure everyone's comfort is taken into account and there should be a suitably large tub for Xương to soak in. Or maybe it wasn't worded exactly like that but I know the tub thing came up.
But now they get to the magic tree behind him. Laughing Knife says they have to put their face into the tree and it'll apply the mask, and he pokes the tree behind him. Despite the fact that by all appearances it's made of solid wood, his finger sinks into it like a foam mattress or pillow. Xương gets into some off-color jokes that, honestly, I'm not quite feeling up to typing out in detail (Sorry, Sean). But let's just say that tangent ends with Xương being told this is why he doesn't get invited to martial arts tournaments. Laughing Knife sighs and asks if someone wants to volunteer to go first.
Shango steps up and presses his face into the substance of the tree. When he pulls back, there's what's best described as a coating of wood on his face, resembling a human face -- the face of his past incarnation.
Xương then puts his face into the spongy substance of the tree and when he pulls back, it looks at first like a leather mask that upon closer inspection appears to be made of crinkly seaweed plastered to his face, like papier-mâché made of nori. The mask, conforming to his long nose, vaguely resembles one of those classical tengu masks.
Hǎifēng goes in, and their masks looks like a monkey-shaped kabuki mask made of white birch. Leaves come down onto it that become something like long, flowing white hair.
So with that taken care of, Laughing Knife gives them directions to their chambers. They thank him for his help and he says he hopes to get to watch some of the tournament and they talk a little about his job here, and he says that the best thing about it is he gets to talk to people from all over Creation. Xương asks if he gets anyone really evil, and he says not really, but that he doesn't think it would really fit in with whatever the Organizers are going for with their choices. Sometimes you get some anti-hero types, but no real bad guys, no real monsters.
But after that they go in, and find themselves in corridors where they so indeed see people from all over Creation wearing masks, alongside various gods and spirits and the like sorting the place out. They actually spot Captain Tarok and Shichirou, recognizable despite the masks they're wearing (a face made of clouds and a shovel beaten into the shape of face, respectively). There's just sort of a subtle nod of respect and acknowledgement back and forth, and then they hear a familiar voice...
"Well, well, well, look at these sad sacks right here."
They slowly turn around to see, wearing a mask made up of little knife blades, Rashmi the Dancing Blade. Xương's Solar Mate[6] from the First Age, whom they met once and haven't seen in months. He assures Shango and Hǎifēng he remembers their names but just isn't saying them because of the rules about revealing others' identities. He quickly makes it clear he's not participating in the tournament, but invited along as one of the 'plus-ones,' assuming it's because of the three of them. But he's more than glad to just take a bit of a vacation and enjoy the amenities. He goes out of his way to suggest that Xương try the coffee -- it's from Jiara, some of the best in Creation, and he hasn't had it in a while because of the peasant rebellion that's been going on there.
As he walks with them because his room is next to theirs with a connecting door. This gets a "He gets his own room but we have to share one" moment from someone, I'm blanking on whom, and he's quick to inform them that he has just a bedroom to himself. The three of them have, like, a fancy suite with their own separate sleeping rooms. As they walk, Xương says that the whole place reminds him of an underground criminal auction. And Rashmi gets excited and says "Yes, that's it! I've been trying to figure out what this place has reminded me of!" and that more or less sets the tone of the small talk they devolve into as we wrap up for this session.
[0]-- So I think I've explained the arcane fate before, that people forget Sidereals. Feel free to ask in comments here or hit me up elsewhere online if you'd like a detailed explainer. I mention this as context to establish that when the group rolled to recall that Arima is a Sidereal, Hǎifēng didn't merely fail but actually botched (no successes and rolled a 1). So not only did they forget that Arima is the Sidereal they saw confront Shango in the jungle, they've forgotten that interaction entirely. (I gave Zac a choice -- forget the scene in the jungle, or forget that Hǎifēng has met Arima before via one of their clones.)
[1]-- I'll admit, looking back over this, that perhaps I softened him a little quicker than I'd intended given that he was still sore over the Battle of Phong's Promise. Or maybe I didn't, and he was only more harsh in my head. I dunno. Or maybe I intended him to be more harsh in an 'earlier draft' version of the encounter in the jungle. Either way, I've decided to have him settle on not being personally hostile to the group -- he thinks they're dangerous, sure. But it's been made clear to him that Creation is better with the group in it (for now) and right now his assignment doesn't explicitly include "deal with wandering Lunars" so he's willing to co-exist as best he can.
[2]-- The mirror thing is a tradition in the West in particular. Apparently, if a mirror reflects a still enough sea during Calibration, there's a risk of the mirror becoming a portal to the domain of a Third Circle Demon in Malfeas named Kagami, the City of Mirrors. No, wait... (checks notes) ...sorry, I misspoke. It's not the demon's domain. Technically, the demon is the domain. Kagami, the City of Mirrors, Fetich Soul of Szoreny. Szoreny being one of the Yozis, also known as 'The Silver Forest.' I apologize for the confusion.
[3]-- If it helps the scene, I gave Fable's dialogue in the voice of Rich Fulcher. It wasn't my intent that Rich 'play' this character, but when I started working out his spiel to myself while plotting this story and practicing a couple lines out loud, that's just the voice that emerged.
[4]-- So I didn't come up with any sort of name for the gods organizing his tourney, and partway through the session just started calling them the Organizers with an implied capital 'O.' May as well make that the official term and start using it.
[5]-- I didn't name him. He's technically a canon character, seen in comics in supplements from second edition -- specifically, Manual of Exalted Power: The Sidereals and The Compass of Celestial Directions, Vol. III -- Yu-Shan. (If you need a visual, the preview on the former's page on DriveThruRPG includes the opening comic, if you find you need a visual.)
[6]-- For a given value of 'Solar.'
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