Greetings, folks! Here's hoping you all came out the other side of the holiday season/New Year's/Calibration in good health and spirits! (Well, 'good vibes' spirits, at least. Here's hoping the liquid spirits weren't too excessive.)
Assuming I don't remember something halfway through writing the post and come back to edit it into this paragraph, I don't have anything special to get into before the Exalted write-up, at least not on a personal level.
However, this week we finally get into the tournament action, so lemme take a minute to school you on some system stuff -- first, a quick run-down of Exalted combat for context, and then the special system I've put together for the tournament. I'd put it behind the jump cut but I wanted to keep a firmer division between the commentary and the actual action. Feel free to skip ahead to Shang Tsung if you're not interested in mechanical stuff.
For those of you unfamiliar with Exalted 3e's combat system, there are withering attacks and decisive attacks. Withering attacks are the 'clashing back and forth' attacks you see in fiction, like the couple minutes' of preamble before someone's hand gets lopped off in Star Wars, or much of Westley's and Inigo's sword duel in Princess Bride (or anything with a sword duel, really). Damage dealt by such attacks takes initiative away from the defender and gives it to the attacker (including bonuses from success, so it's not just a zero-sum game), representing a shifting of momentum -- an insignificant wound that damages morale more than the body, or an overextension and loss of positioning, etc. Taking the last of an opponent's initiative represents a major shift in momentum in a fight, with bonuses to the attacker and penalties to the defender, a state called 'initiative crash.' Decisive attacks are the serious blows, that spend that initiative to try and damage the target, hitting their health levels.
These are an abstraction, of course: in-character, in theory everyone's trying to stab everyone else, but that out-of-character choice is the difference between the attack that merely sends you tripping over your own feet and leaving your opponent an opening and the one that actually draws blood. For example (spoilers for a 35-year old movie), the point where Inigo is beaten in the sword duel and Westley knocks him out is Inigo suffering initiative crash and then their players negotiate the outcome. But Count Rugen stabbing Inigo at the film's climax is a successful decisive attack, as is Inigo killing him after building his initiative back up following his comeback.
(Obviously, there are permutations and complications beyond this, but I'm trying to be brief-ish)
I didn't want the fights to involve taking everyone to near-death until they lose consciousness and then have someone heal them with magic, so I set the OOC 'victory condition' for a match to be initiative crash (representing best of three falls, submission, or judge's decision). But this has the problems of the likelihood of someone being taken out on their first turn. Also, a lot of martial arts only do their most interesting stuff with decisive attacks, and while I could allow for a 'first blood' system, I've seen how damage rolls and I've seen my players' characters deal a lethal blow to someone who's full on health with a lucky roll.
To resolve this, I've given each character a number of points called Fortitude that gets worn down, a number of points' worth of damage that 'protects' a character's last point of Initiative. It's worn down normally by withering attacks, and decisive attacks do damage directly to it (and in addition, deal extra damage the same way they do to battle groups). So once it runs out, then a character can be properly initiative crashed and that'll finish the fight one way or another. So in other words, I've given everyone kind of a health bar. I also use it as a mild balancing thing -- the lower 'tier' a given character is, the more Fortitude they get, so the characters can't as easily steamroll, say, Dragon-Bloods.
But after way too much preamble...
...the tournament is upon us!
But first, a flashback to some months ago...
"Typical, always typical with you people," the older woman yelled at the soldiers as they tossed the circus' wagon. "Some noble brat misplaces a bauble and we're the ones who get it in the neck."
Rashmi the Dancing Blade remained almost inhumanly still next to her, arms crossed stand-offishly as he stood nearby. His fingers rested near the hilts of blades strapped to his forearms beneath flowing sleeves. His sister stood on the other side of their grandmother. A blunt sword with a slightly too-large blade for the sake of visibility was stuck into the ground next to her.
They awaited one of several phrases Grandmother Devika could work into conversation. Whichever code phrase she used would indicate targets by number and direction -- 'please, have a heart' meant 'the two on the left,' for instance, and 'this old woman begs you for mercy' would mean 'as many as you can, starting with the ones closest to me.' The twins trained as a pair, and any command she gave would have a different meaning for each of them so they could coordinate their movements for maximum efficiency (body count) in the shortest amount of time and effort.
Despite the public location and the risk of spectacle, if she spoke any of the phrases, blades would fly and flash and at least a few of the soldiers would receive the unearned mercy of a death so quick as to be effectively painless.
The frustration lay in that the traveling circus were assassins, not thieves -- anything in those wagons was purchased or traded lawfully, because they were very careful to cover their tracks. The only thing holding Rashmi back from starting to lure them away and pick them off one at a time was the knowledge that eventually the soldiers would get bored, find something they liked, ask some questions about it and find an excuse to take it anyways. Then they'd leave the circus folk be to grumble, pack up, and move on.
"We've got something!"
Here we go, he thought. Let's get this over with, for Kiragaru's sake. Stuff like this is why I didn't want to come to the Lap.
Rashmi the Blade Dancer, his sister, stiffened just enough to raw his attention. Grandmother Devika didn't seem to notice, but Rashmi the Dancing Blade looked over. Her facial expression hadn't changed, but her bronze-skinned face was pale and he recognized fear in her eyes like nobody else could. He wanted to get her attention to ask what was wrong, but didn't dare move without permission.
A sudden flurry of activity snatched his attention away. A woman in a uniform he didn't recognize came over to look at something that a Realm soldier had pulled out of his and his sister's belongings. A jeweled amulet that looked vaguely like a key hung from the soldier's hand as he showed it to the woman in the uniform. She checked it against something on a piece of paper she carried, frowned, and turned to the three of them. Other soldiers rushed out and while Rashmi barely resisted following their movements he could hear them starting to interrogate their cousins and other workers in the circus.
"Do you know what this is?" the woman asked, eyes narrowed. Her eyes flickered through different colors and her purple (no, not purple, amethyst) hair had an unnatural sheen to it, what Rashmi recognized as the aspect markings of a Dragon-Blood. Presumably one of the Earth Aspect ones, whatever those were called.
"Enlighten us," Grandmother Devika snorted with false bravado.
"Do you know who Basalt Breeze is?" The woman looked at all three of them.
"Should I?" she asked, knowing damn well that Painted Voice was a powerful Guild merchant back in Chiaroscuro.
Rashmi -- both of them -- knew that, too. And now the brother had to conceal his worry.
"This belonged to them," the woman in the uniform said. "They died in a questionable accident in their private art gallery a few months ago. The amulet was never found."
What the fuck did you do? Rashmi thought at his sister as hard as he could.
"Well ain't that a shame," Grandmother Devika said, leaning forward as she stared the Dragon-Blood in the eye.
Kill the leader and scatter.
Both Rashmis swept forward, converging on the Prince of the Earth in front of them, hoping to strike her down too quickly for bring her powers to bear. The Dancing Blade's arms uncrossed, forearm-strapped knives coming out. The Blade Dancer hit a switch on the sword hilt and drew the true blade hidden within the performance sword with a flourish...
Now...
...the same flourish Shango's opponent performs as the osprey-aspected Lunar leaps from the group's private viewing box and transforms in mid-air to glide down to the ring. The woman across from him wears black armor on her torso that looks like tightly-woven spider webs of soulsteel wrapped around her, with dull silver fabric covering her body beneath. She holds a soulsteel daiklave that whirls around in her grip as she warms up with a quick kata. She wears a mask that appears to be made out of knives (like Rashmi's) but the knives are pointed inwards towards the center of her face (unlike Rashmi's).
"No," Rashmi whispers, his eyes wide behind his mask as the privacy shadow Xương requested settles over their viewing box. "No, it can't be." His voice rises to an angry, rough hiss to hide his fear. "She's dead! I saw her die!"
"Old friend?" Xương asks.
"Not an old friend. That's my stupid, crazy bitch of a twin sister!"
"Your what?"
And with that, the camera moves down to focus on the woman standing across from Shango. And on the TV screens at home, where the audience can see but the characters can't, a caption appears across the bottom of the screen...
Blade Dances Between the Ribs
(Formerly known as Rashmi the Blade Dancer)
Dusk Caste Abyssal
As the match begins Shango rushes in, wanting to go in strong as he hasn't had a chance to really cut loose in a while. He draws Weirdflame and stokes its internal flames as it whispers to him. Then, sentai-style, he runs a couple of fingers along the barrel as it lights up, fire following the fingers until the firewand is covered. Then with a flourish he points Weirdflame up and yells out "Wyld Nightmare Inferno!" as it unleashes a stream of colored flame that expands into a dome of rainbow fire, held back by the field protecting the audience from, well, stuff like that.
The aforementioned audience goes "Oooooh" as the wave of brightly-colored flames rushes towards the Abyssal. With a flick of her wrist the daiklave's blade breaks into a chain-sword.[0] She whirls it around like a fan, creating a barrier of soulsteel chain and blade holding back the flames. While doing so, she pushes forward until she can lash out at him. The metal screams rather than whistles as it cuts through the flames, whipping around and barely hitting him.
She lunges at him again, a cloud of the sword's blade pieces whirling around her and protecting her from the multi-colored inferno, and she vanishes into the flames. But he can see her coming through the flames themselves as she lashes out at him, and he's able to keep ahead of her impossible speed. She's so much faster than the Dragon-Bloods and spirits that the Circle is used to fighting -- after all, the only other Exalt they've fought with on this power scale is Slit Throats' Last Gasps during their first trip to Lathe.
Both of their anima banners are flaring, the special effects muted by the masks, but she burns hers away for more speed. The anima flickers into wispy afterimages that briefly resemble the petals of a lotus before the pained shrieks of the sword shatter the display as she makes another attack.
Almost mimicking Hǎifēng's monkey flexibility, Shango falls beneath the swing, catching himself on one hand and foot. And while he's down he aims Weirdflame up at her and fires a burst that catches her right in the face and shuts down her momentum. Then, from that one-handed handstand, he pushes off with a wing to spin around into a kneeling stance and unloads into her with multiple blasts. The blasts of flame stagger her until she falls and springs back to her feet, retracting the chain back into a proper blade.
She gets ready to charge, too focused on Shango to try and deflect the rainbow flames and instead just attempting to power through them as they lick over the soulsteel armor.
"Not... over..." she gasps as she readies a charge.
"Do you yield?" Shango asks, eyes narrowed.
The roar of the flames seems to fade to silence for a moment as she looks the Lunar in the eye, her voice so very cold as she says "I didn't even yield to death, I will not yield to you."
She lunges at him in a desperation strike, thrusting the sword at him. He reaches out to push down on her hand and flip over her, but she's fast enough that he still gets nicked. She then re-chains the sword to lash out at him again. With a single flap of his wings he jumps over the blade as it snakes through the air at him.
Her clothing under the armor is starting to burn away, her skin beginning to blacken as she pushes through the magical fire. She puts her Essence into her blade, whipping the chain-blade through a dramatic flourish to try and cover up a swift, precise strike. But he watches her, catching the glint off the daiklave's edge as he waits for the right moment to dodge out of the way. He brings his devil caster up sideways, and then cocks his head to the side so he's aiming down the side, and hits her with another burst of flame.
They're both exhausted and breathing heavy at this point, both of them almost running on empty. But she's breathing heavier, and struggling to stay up, and the fire is really starting to get to her though she might not even notice. He recognizes what's going on, and holsters Weirdflame. "This fight is over," he says as he turns to walk away.
She lets out a scream of pure rage and lunges at him, but before she can reach him the last spark of her power gives out and she collapses in exhaustion. She falls and remains down as he walks away. The rainbow flames dissipate as he takes to the air to leave the ring, as if the fire is blown away into rainbow smoke by the gust of wind from his taking off.
He flies back up to the viewing box and lands and all but falls into human form as he slumps into a seat.
"Two things," Hǎifēng begins. "One, you missed your accolades. And two, why didn't you fly during the fight?"
"It would have been too easy," he sighs.[1]
"Go back down there and get your accolades!"
"What accolades?" Shango asks.
And at this point he hears the cheering. He gets up and the privacy shadow fades just enough that the crowd can see him as he waves.
Down below, in the ring, Plentimon steps out and asks how in the world they're going to top that, which gets a chuckle from the crowd. But shortly afterwards, the next match begins. On one side, a woman wearing a pirate captain's coat and tiger claws, with a mask that appears to be made of driftwood. On the other, a man in bright red armor with a prosthetic artifact arm and what can only be described as an oni mask, wielding a flaming halberd.[2] And they begin a match that plays out in the background as the characters talk.
Shango slumps into his seat and Rashmi asks if he's okay, the Infernal looking awkardly between Xương and Hǎifēng. Hǎifēng, kind of picking back up the conversational thread from earlier, asks Rashmi if that was really his sister. He confirms it, and explains that he thought he was the last of his family until today. It quickly comes up in conversation that he's only vaguely aware of what Abyssal Exalted are (he's still getting a handle on what he is, after all). He knows what 'Deathknights' are, and the confirmation that they are one and the same does make things a little easier on him.
He then goes into the story, some of which you know from the flashback earlier. Rashmi and his sister -- also named Rashmi, it's a unisex name[3] -- comes from a family of assassins who operate under the guise of a traveling circus. They've traveled all through the East, Southeast, and Near South for years. But the last few years, between the Fall of Thorns and the Jiaran rebellion, they've had to cut stops out of their traveling circuit. They usually don't go any further west than Chiaroscuro in the South, but his grandmother wanted to add the Lap[4] to the circuit. He didn't want to -- nothing ever happens in the Lap, after all -- but he was overruled. So they did their usual stuff in the Lap, and they got hassled by the authorities, as often happens to traveling circus folk, and... well, if you read the flashback at the start of this write-up, you know what happened next. Apparently his sister had been keeping trophies from their kills, which is one of the things they Do Not Do -- they're assassins, not serial killers.
But as far as he knew, the rest of his family was wiped out in the ensuing battle. He managed to get away, but even then as the soldiers hunted him down, well... he was made an offer and he took it. Xương says that apparently his sister was also made an offer.
Hǎifēng points out this is an opportunity to talk to an Abyssal who might not want to kill them. Though there's some back and forth over whether she'd want to kill them or not, or whether she might still try; after all, she's probably no more fond of rules than Rashmi, and the proscription against fights outside the ring might not be enough to stop her. Rashmi points out, however, that they know that one of them can take her in a one-on-one fight, if it comes to it, and they wouldn't be alone this time. Shango volunteers that he's not sure if he just got lucky, or if he'd win in an actual fight. Xương says he's a little too full of poultry and cocaine to consider fighting, and Rashmi says (a little too quickly) that in his line of work that's usually a good starting point. He then pauses a moment, considers his words, and acknowledges that his viewpoint might be a little skewed there. (It also comes up that Xương would probably feel better about fighting if he didn't eat the poultry bones and all. But, as is pointed out, they call him the Bonetaker, not the Boneleaver.)
The conversation goes back and forth a bit on whether this is a good idea or even if Rashmi wants to see her (it's complicated, he says). But he concedes that it's a golden opportunity and he was planning on doing some spying anyways and it might be better to approach her in a group.
Hǎifēng asks what could possibly go wrong, while in the background Xương asks Bageru to get them a few things that he then uses to invent the corn dog.[5]
And we left off there.
[0]-- Fun fact, I tried to find a decent gif demonstrating the function of Ivy's sword in Soul Calibur, but pretty much every one I could find on the internet emphasizes that she's wearing one of the most porn-tastic costumes in video game history, so much so that I didn't feel comfortable using any of them.
[1]-- Funnily enough, I went out of my way to make sure she was capable of handling Shango if he just took to the skies to blast at her.
[2]-- This is one of my rare easter eggs referencing the Fall of Jiara Actual Play. It actually takes me effort at times not to talk about it constantly when discussing Exalted.
[3]-- Fun fact, Rashmi's sister came into being because of a possible joke that came to mind when I was writing up the character. I'd come up with the sobriquet "Rashmi the Dancing Blade," and had a mental image of someone calling him "Rashmi the Blade Dancer" either by accident or sarcastically, and I was going to have the prepared response of "No, no, I'm Rashmi the Dancing Blade. Rashmi the Blade Dancer is my sister." And then as these things often go, I started teasing out that idea in my head, and now here we are.
[4]-- So called because it's a city that is based in and around the lap of a giant statue of a monk in full lotus position.
[5]-- Familiarizing Sean with the ability to introduce facts (and thus establish setting canon) may have been a terrible mistake.
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