Session Report: 27 January 2023
Keeper of the Watch
General Summary
In this session of Tsuwamono, the following events transpired:
Knight Takes Queen1559年11月17日 15:00 (Afternoon)
Wakigami Castle
Historical Entry: Knight Takes Queen
Following the meeting in Wakigami Castle's third-floor audience chamber, Knight Commander Maxim did not take advantage of the clan's teleportation services. Instead, he left the room on foot, still having business within the castle. His sheele, Evaine, followed closely behind with a look of mild concern on her face. She'd felt somewhat uncomfortable in that meeting for some reason; as though something powerful yet unseen had been watching them all throughout. With a shake of her white locks she cast the feeling away and asked Maxim where they were going. It had been some time since the Knight Commander last visited Wakigami Castle. At least, when measured by the breakneck speed by which events tended to move in service to the Hashinara Clan. So, it was only proper that he call upon the castle's nobility while here. No, not Hashinara Yoshitakatomo, who had been absent even longer than Maxim. Instead, he went to the Daimyō's quarters and asked after Empress Genmei. In answer to his knock, something heavy and dry moved against the other side of the door. It was an uncanny sound, certainly not made by anything human. It opened a crack a moment thereafter, revealing white scales and an enormous red, slitted eye. Apparently, Maxim was recognized and welcome, for Prince Hozumi opened the door the rest of the way with a dexterous flick of his tail. The Knight Commander stepped inside with Evaine just behind him. "Ah, Maxim. Remind me, how does the horse move?" Empress Genmei sat on a cushion before a low table. Before her, arranged as though midway through a game, were a board and array of pieces Maxim immediately recognized as chess. Now, he was not exactly a grandmaster, but he did know the basics. He explained as such, showing Genmei how the knight moved in an L-shape across the board. "Thank you," the diminutive empress favored him with a smile. "A charming, pink-tinted man visited the other day and offered me this game as tribute." Charming? Pink-tinted? Fixated on Western accoutrements? A vision of Tsukijō Hanahane all but rose up before Maxim's eyes as he put the pieces together. Meanwhile, his host was continuing. "I'm pleased to see that you know how to play already. Would you care for a game?" "Eh..." The good knight hesitated only a moment before accepting the proffered seat across from Genmei. "I know the basic rules...but... Sure, I could stand to lose at another board game." Seemingly pleased that he'd accepted her invitation, Genmei set about resetting the pieces in front of her. "Do you have a boon to ask me, or is this a social visit?" She played black, which meant Maxim had white; an advantage, according to some. "Social. I was in the area, and the idea of being locked in here day in and out made me think you could use some company." Maxim studied the table in front of him, banishing thoughts of Go from his mind as he attempted to recalibrate for the different beast that was chess. "But it seems you know how to keep yourself entertained." "Your company is welcome." And indeed, Genmei's smile had not wavered. Though reserved, it was genuine; she seemed to truly appreciate that he'd stopped by to visit her. They traded moves for a short time in silence. Quickly, Maxim realized that Genmei had a grasp on the rules of chess but none of the nuance. Her opening line was full of holes. An experienced player might have swept in and claimed the game right there. Maxim was not that, but he found even his own sloppy opening to place him in a decidedly advantageous position. His host's smile did not drop, but she studied the board more intensely and breathed out, impressed. "This must be what that pink gentleman meant when he told me about the 'Celephaïs Opening." Moving another piece, creating another opening, she also slid on to the next topic of conversation. "Where have your adventures taken you of late, Maxim?" Before he answered, the knight's eyes fell on Genmei's queen. It was entirely defenseless. He moved a bishop to threaten it. "It seems I'm something of a magnet for Kamui. Have you heard of them?" "I have heard tales. Gods before there were gods. Before our people came to this land. But even I have never met a Kamui. Were they not myths?" Click. Click. Her queen moved, only to be cornered by a rook. At this rate, Maxim realized he was going to take an overwhelming victory. That might not be the best course of action for such a friendly match, though. He instead tried his best to match Genmei's skill level, whether that lead to victory or loss. "We recently held a ceremony of sorts for Repun Kamui and she decided to reveal her presence to me. It was an interesting experience if anything." With one final move, Maxim allowed his own queen to be taken. That should have driven him into a corner, but he quickly realized that Genmei didn't have enough pieces left to checkmate him. Judging by the Empress' creased eyebrows, she'd realized the same thing. "It seems...neither of us win. Tell me about this Repun Kamui. What was she like?" As she cleared the pieces into a pair of small bowls by the table, it seemed Genmei was not displeased with the result of their game. "She seemed carefree and, if I had to put it, compassionate." Maxim thought on the other Kamui he'd encountered. Chaotic and malicious, many of them. "Which considering the others I've seen was a breath of fresh air." "It is good to hear the Native Gods are kind, then. Or...at least one of them." Maxim picked up a handful of the pieces from their receptacles and began to set them up on the board once again. "Now...how about one last game? Only this time I get to ask the questions." "Of course." As the Empress graciously replied, Maxim noted that Evaine had settled down with Prince Hozumi and was feeding the giant snake some baked cookies. "I would welcome a second game and further conversation. Make your opening move and ask, Knight Maxim." "I call this..." Maxim struggled to think of a name for his new, classic opening move. "Opening #1." By sheer dint of luck, the good knight had stumbled across a genuinely competitive opening strategy for his pieces. Even the inexperienced Genmei could tell; this was a much more formidable tack than he'd previously taken. "That has the sound of a move with a long history. You are more skilled than I thought." Rather than responding, Maxim asked his first question. "Why do you put yourself through a self-imposed exile like this? Do you not yearn for freedom?" His piercing blue eyes met the Empress', neither of them looking at the board for a moment. "I accomplished much in my time, and individuals such as I cannot help but alter the course of history by our very presence." As she spoke, a heaviness settled around the room. It was as though the weight of centuries of rule, held in reserve by Genmei until now, fit around her shoulders like a magnificent cloak. "It is time for my descendants to make their own mark, without me affecting their path. For our game, however, I will bring my full abilities to bear." Maxim blinked as he stared at the board. He'd had an intense advantage throughout their first few exchanges, but suddenly he'd lost three key pieces and had been placed in check in the same number of moves. There was the scent of something supernatural at work here... So, Maxim replied with his own signature ability: "Counter #1." "That seems sad," he ventured. "You've been locked up so long; surely you could live a more carefree life outside these walls? Don another identity?" "Do you not know the weight your actions exert on the world, Maxim?" Click. Check. Click. Check. "Beings of such power invite events to them to be shaped, whether we like it or not. Even if I were to don another identity, I would still affect the flow of history in this country." Rapidly losing ground and pieces, Maxim realized the game was all but over. That is, unless he could muster some miraculous strategy in this final hour. More than that, he found himself considering the impact he had on this world. It was true that bizarre and momentous events, like those featuring the Kamui, found him more often than seemed logical. "Me...?" He looked down at the board and back to his opponent. He moved his knight forward in an L. Click. "I'm just a mercenary playing at being a knight. Slowly trying to make his way home... On the way I've met some great, some misunderstood, and some shunned by the world. I don't have any of this sort of power you speak of, but if you think you'll have some influence on history by living your life... Should you ask, I would face all of it so you could enjoy a carefree life, as I would for anyone in the Wolfpack." Genmei's queen fell to its side and rolled off the board, slain by Maxim's knight. Then, her rook slid into place beside his undefended king. Checkmate. Still, something about Maxim's speech had reached Genmei. He could see it in her eyes, and the way she tilted her head forward to think. A long moment passed, pieces still arrayed on the board, before she spoke again. "I see a little of him in you. Fujiwara, my Right Hand. Or perhaps even a little of Maro. I suppose I may bend my own rules a little, if you are the one changing history and I merely assist." She stood without clearing the pieces, smoothing out her robes. Prince Hozumi swung his attention from the snacks to watch her, like a dog who knows his master's about to leave the room. "Let us go, then," the Empress said. "It rust you have appropriate quarters prepared for me in your holdings?" Maxim was left momentarily speechless. He hadn't expected that gambit to work. Soon enough he found his tongue once again. "How do you wish to be treated? As the Great Empress Genmei, or...?" She had apparently already given this thought. "As your adviser. You may fabricate an identity for me if you wish. I would prefer others not know of me as the Empress." With a weak smile, Maxim answered, "We can arrange something, then." ... ...... ......... Even if someone had been present to hear it, they probably would have missed the tiny sound of the sliding door to the Daimyō's chambers softly clicking shut. A shape stood there, black fur and polished iron dancing in the room's dull torchlight. Four hooves made the barest of clicks as they glided across the chamber and arrived at the low table set in its center. First, Kihaku leaned down to snuffle at the cushion where Maxim had sat. Yes, there was no mistaking it. Her charge had been here. Now, he had gone, and so must she. Except... The horse's dark eyes took in the chessboard and pieces still arranged atop. It was a crushing defeat for white; black's rook expertly pinning the opposing king. Gently, dexterously, Kihaku lowered her muzzle and placed lips around the ivory piece in shape of a horse. Click. When the silent hoofbeats had left the room, the ebony rook was toppled and it was white, not black, who claimed checkmate.Angel of the Veil
1559年11月17日 15:00 (Afternoon)
Sumiyoshi-taisha
Historical Entry: Angel of the Veil
It was past the sun's zenith on the first day of Metatron's reawakened sentience when he was approached by six humans of particular repute. Those named Ryūzaki Sanosuke and Aotsuki Tsukamoto bore the marks of lesser deities themselves. The others, Imamura Naiku, Mary Lyn, Takayama Ukon, and Takenaka Hanbei, were great in spirit or passion measured on the scale of mortals. Many had attempted to pass through to Samayim. Yet it was Metatron's role as Keeper of the Watch to bar all but the chosen few from entry. It was also his nature as the Burning Bush to speak. To convey the Almighty's word. Yet he had no voice in this form, in this purpose. The contradiction was its own torment. So when the Scion of the Storm, Ryūzaki Sanosuke, came forth, Metatron stretched the limits of his being to create a loophole. Through exaltation of the Silver General's patron deity, whose affinity with lightning placed him slightly within Metatron's own sphere, his Champion could be allowed to approach and speak, if not truly enter. Metatron's branches thrilled to experience human touch and to have his voice, the voice which spoke on behalf of the Creator, understood by a mortal once more. "Son of Thunder. I will permit you to touch me out of respect for your patron." The words of Metatron boomed within Ryūzaki Sanosuke's head. Unlike a human voice, and yet unlike the voice of a god as well. Metatron was an incarnation of the Tree of Life. A reflection of that which connected man to the divine. And so, with deference in his tone, the Scion of the Storm responded. "Thank you...Holy Tree. Would you tell me what you're doing here? Is there something you seek?" By the nature of his own being, Metatron had no choice but to respond truthfully and to the fullness of his knowledge. However, even had that geas not been placed upon him, he would have done so regardless. It was his joy and honor to communicate knowledge to mortals. "Certainly, I would be happy to. It is my purpose to serve as a bridge between Samayim and the mortal Earth. With my great branches I hold open the heavens and when the time comes I shall take up my sword again and join the crusade." Beyond Ryūzaki Sanosuke's hand, beyond the connection they shared and the transmission of information which bound them both, Metatron watched without sight as first Takayama Ukon and then Aotsuki Tsukamoto ran against his barrier and were rebuffed. They were not permitted to approach, and he was not permitted to speak to them. Doubt flashed in the eyes of Amaterasu's champion. He had convinced himself that only humans could approach the Burning Bush, and for the barest instant, wondered if he himself was not human. How Metatron longed to correct him, to swaddle him in a blanket of truth. Yet he could not. He could only speak to Sanosuke and only as prompted. "Sounds like we've got at least one thing in common... Your purpose is to side with the angels, then?" An odd question. It was like asking the thunder if it sided with the rain, or if the wind held allegiance to the sky. Metatron would answer truthfully, as he must. "I am an angel myself, a being of God's great creation, though I cast not aside my Qlippoth to ascend to one of the ten circles." Ryūzaki Sanosuke paused to think. He questioned his comrades, but they knew little of the truth; only snippets about the Kabbalah Tree of Life and the nodes therein to which angelic beings tied their essence. The golden Child of the Sun, Aotsuki Tsukamoto, spoke more than the others could hear. From afar, he received tutelage from another ancient being until his knowledge rivaled Ryūzaki Sanosuke's own. Not wishing to seem miserly with his own truth, Metatron girded his branches for the next question. "So that's a 'maybe' to siding with the angels? We're still not sure what this is all about. The angels coming to judge us because there are demons living in our realm? Can you tell us more about these 'circles' and the 'Divine Council'?" That was a great many questions, and not all of them had clear, truthful answers of the sort Metatron was authorized, was eager, to provide. So, he began to speak and did not stop for some time. "Why yes. It's nice to see a human taking a healthy interest. You see, there are ten major categories of angels, also sometimes called 'circles' or 'spheres,' one for each node on the Tree of Life. Each sphere represents a particular aspect of sentience. The Elohim, for example, are of the circle Netzach, which is a concept that might be best-described to humans as 'Judgment.' Each sphere is commanded by the greatest of its Seraphim, who are the highest order of angels. These ten Seraphim sit on the Divine Council, which convenes to determine matters of Samayim and the Mortal Realms." Metatron paused, but as no requests for clarification seemed forthcoming, he took a metaphysical breath which shook the sky, and continued to speak. "There are nine orders of angels, shared across the ten spheres. These range from the basic 'Angel' all the way to Seraphim, the most powerful. Those between ranks one and six possess no individuality. Once an angelic being attains the seventh rank, that of Throne, they may cast aside their Qlippoth an choose a name which glorifies God. Cherubim are more powerful yet, and Seraphim are the greatest of angels. These three orders are commonly referred to as 'Archangels' and can rival the power of the greatest gods of other pantheons." A moment passed while Ryūzaki Sanosuke absorbed all of this information. He was not unintelligent, on the scale of mortals, so Metatron felt no hesitation to explain these concepts to the best of his demidivine ability. The Son of Thunder eventually replied, "Wow, that actually sounds very helpful, thank you. But why haven't you cast aside your Qlippoth? What is it?" "A Qlippoth is a sacrificial lamb. A being created to bear all of the burdens which restrict a divine being's nature. By rending a part of their own essence asunder, an angel is free to determine their own path in service to almighty God." Indeed, it was because Metatron had not created and banished his own Qlippoth that he was forced by his own nature to answer in such a manner. To mortals, this no doubt would seem restrictive, but a being brought about in service to a particular role cannot help but feel joy at fulfilling such. "That explains the behavior of those who came down, then, I suppose. And what of these spheres and such?" That sounded like a request to explain each of the ten spheres in detail. Metatron ordered what equivalent to thoughts he possessed and began to lecture.Tutelage of a Named Man
1559年11月17日 15:00? (Night)
Hashinara Kurayume
Historical Entry: Tutelage of a Named Man
Ganzo Sada, the Named Man, stood upon the deck of Hashinara Kurayume and watched a brilliant tapestry of unfamiliar stars wheel over his head. He was on sea watch duty tonight. In truth, anything which came from those black depths, arisen perhaps from the rotting Sunken City far below, would be too dangerous for him to handle alone. In such a case, he could at least perhaps send warning to the rest of Queen's Landing before being devoured or worse. However, Ganzo Sada was not about to let the bleak reality of this dangerous place get to him. The stars were so very beautiful, and he loved to watch the mysterious lights which flickered across the Dreamsea's horizon, hinting at places and people yet unknown. The sound of leathery wings softly filled the air, and Ganzo Sada realized too late that a Night-gaunt was upon him. He closed his eyes and hung his head. This was it, then. His journey cut short, dropped by a fell messenger into the infinite darkness that was whispered to lie beneath Mount Ngranek. Yet the Named Man could not bring himself to be bitter. He had received honor unmatched from the Daimyō of his great clan, and stories of his adventures in the Dreamlands would no doubt be told for generations by his many children back home. He turned to meet his end, but saw that this was no night-gaunt hunter. Instead, it was a pair of the creatures, swooping all-but-silently upon the deck to deposit Hashinara Yoshiyuki and her strange retainer, Carmilla, upon the deck. Ganzo Sada wiped any trace of fear from his face and bowed deeply to honor the presence of the great Princess. "You're back, Lady Hashinara! I'm on sea watch tonight, and there's nothing to report so far." "Let us hope the night stays calm," the Sorceress-Daimyō said as she floated across the ship to join him at the rail. "How do you find the Dreamlands so far? Terrifying?" Ganzo Sada looked at that expressionless white mask and could glean nothing from it. He decided to answer the question honestly, if with a little positive spin. "As long as I don't pay too much attention to the fish, it's not so bad." Something large and scaled slipped by under the ship, a deeper shadow in the dark water. "It's exciting, even! In Japan, most of the wilderness has been staked out, already explored. Here, anything might happen!" He leaned on the rail and looked out at the horizon, grinning at the ghostly lights far beyond. "I doubt this realm will ever be fully explored like our own. There will always be something new to discover." She turned her mask to look at him. There were eyes there, beneath its porcelain surface, but they were as flat and unreadable as the rest of her façade. "This realm, however, is much more dangerous." As she spoke, Princess Yoshiyuki turned toward Carmilla. The woman in red was standing a few feet distant on the deck. Her eyes were fixed on something in the middle-distance, clouded and wavering, and her mouth moved as though reciting some unheard mantra. "Take her, for example," the Daimyō continued. "The more I learn of her truth, the more terrifying a simple mistake becomes." A pause. "While the night is calm, let us take advantage of it and train you. Perhaps you might learn a trick that will help you survive longer in this hellish dream." Ganzo Sada had to admit that went over his head. "Dangerous, perhaps, but that's the appeal of it." Was he speaking of the Dreamlands or Carmilla herself? Perhaps both. Regardless, he couldn't hide his excitement at a chance to be trained by Hashinara Yoshiyuki. This name she'd bestowed had already elevated him so much. "What's this trick?" "The only trick I know would be...magic." A sphere of unearthly green fire appeared in the Princess' upturned palm. It twisted and licked at the air, but gave off no heat. "But I could also conjure an entity at a level you could stand a chance of surviving." The greenish flame sprouted legs and arms. Suddenly, a tiny green imp made of flame was dancing in the Daimyō's palm. She closed her fingers, snuffing its antics out in an instant. "But for now, let us see if you have the knack for casting spells." As great an honor as this was, the sheer enormity of what the Daimyō was saying nearly crushed Ganzo Sada where he stood. Magic was the domain of sorcerors and generals, great figures who toyed with the fates of men and wore history like a cloak. Not for lowly ashigaru like himself, even if he did have a name of power. "To cast a spell, you must accumulate an energy called zeon. Most creatures do not have enough of it or none at all, but intelligent creatures tend to have enough to cast a simple spell." "Unh?" The Named Man was still reeling at the unseen line between mundane and supernatural he was asked so casually to cross. "I can't say I've ever heard of anything like this, Lady Daimyō," he managed. "'Zeon' is a common word for it, but we Japanese understand it as seiryoku (精力). The power of our own spirit." With a culmination of energy Ganzo Sada hadn't felt until it was there, a simple white mask coalesced in the Princess' hand. She'd created it as though by magic. No, it was magic. This item had been formed from seiryoku by Yoshiyuki's will, as she said. "Like that stuff martial artists use?" He cursed himself for the banality of the question, but he truly had no idea what else to ask. Ganzo Sada was flailing around for some familiar concept to connect this to and landed on the tales of martial artists who could deflect blows with the energy of their own spirit. "I believe they call it Ki," Yoshiyuki confirmed. "In practice they are the same, but their foci are different." With that, the Princess-Daimyō touched a slender hand to Ganzo Sada's arm. It felt as though a spark from a fire had landed on his bare skin, gooseflesh running up and down the limb as some unseen energy earthed itself there. "Hey, that tickled," he said before he could stop himself. Despite the simplicity of his statement, the Princess seemed pleased. "Oho," she drawled, "You felt that?" Hashinara Yoshitakatomo focused her seiryoku into a weave which she drew through the Named Man's being, scanning his body and soul in equal measure. As she suspected, Ganzo possessed only slightly more spiritual power than an average human. Before the vast sea of zeon which fueled the Princess-Daimyō's own magics, he was as an insect. And yet, "slightly more" was a greater sum than "none at all." She felt it as the Named Man called up all of the strength of his soul and attempted to focus it into a spell. The attempt was clumsy and he failed to accumulate even a single measure of zeon. Still, that he was able to make the attempt at all represented something. All of this was lost on Ganzo Sada himself, who merely saw Princess Yoshiyuki staring at him wordlessly. "Hmm," she mused at last. "You are average in terms of spiritual power, which means you have the potential to make use of spells." With pale fingers, she grasped his arm and moved his own digits into a precise position. "Follow my gestures and say these incantations." What followed seemed needlessly morbid to Ganzo Sada, but he tried anyway. "周りの精霊よ、私の願いを叶えてください。 マイナー アイテムを作成します!" He suddenly felt drained, as though some vital essence had been drawn out of him by the attempt. Yet no "minor item" materialized in his hand or anywhere else. "Good, good. Let's try the spell a few more times. I will transfer my spiritual power to replace what was used." As she promised, warmth seemed to spread out from Yoshiyuki's oddly cool touch. The Named Man felt revitalized, as though what he spent had been renewed. He nodded, screwed his eyes up, and tried again. "周りの精霊よ、私の願いを叶えてください。 マイナー アイテムを作成します!"Dreams Within Skyhold
1559年11月17日 15:00 (Afternoon)
Skyhold
Historical Entry: Dreams Within Skyhold
An interminable amount of time passed as the cart bounced up and down on the lumpy dirt road. In fact, it seemed as though very little time had passed at all for Matsumoto Ooawagaeri before the lead-gray spires of Skyhold began to rise over the northern horizon. "Hey, we're closer than I thought," said Hashiba Hideyoshi, noticing the same thing. She turned companionably to her fellow traveler. "So, what boon are you planning on asking the Princess? Don't tell me you want her hand in marriage or something lame like that." "Actually, I wanted to speak with Katakura Kojūrō. I was under the impression they were good friends." There was no flash of recognition in Hideyoshi's eyes. She just furrowed her brow and said, "Eh? Can't say I've heard that name before." Then, a shrug. "But if anybody can find them for you, it's the Princess." "I believe it," Ooawagaeri answered. A thought occurred to him and he mused, "Say, how long has the Princess been in charge?" This seemed to confuse Hideyoshi even more than his question about Kojūrō. She quickly laughed it off. "That's a strange question to ask. She's the Immortal Princess, so, I guess, forever? Next time maybe you'll forget the sky is blue." Under his mask, Ooawagaeri answered with a wan smile. "Well you know, too much booze makes one forgetful. Let's hope that doesn't happen." They road along in silence for a few moments then, broken only by the occasional sound of the cart driver spitting off the side. "Strange question," Ooawagaeri led, "How much do you suppose we all weigh?" "Huh?" It had been one bizarre question after another, but Hashiba Hideyoshi still did her level best to answer. "I'm probably around a hundred fifty, and you look skinny enough. It's the big guy and the mules who are going to weigh us down." The masked man nodded and raised his head to the sky. "Let's see if this works." He whistled for his faithful vulpine companion. A sonic boom shook the air a moment later as the Sable Fox appeared. Although, it was also immediately apparent something was wrong. As it approached, the creature's body stretched and wobbled in a mimicry of what Ooawagaeri himself had felt when entering this strange place. It snapped back into a new shape, one clad in shiny black-plated iron and resting on two wheels. A low hum emanated from it as it skidded to the stop next to the cart and began matching speed. Its plush leather seat looked very inviting. "Well hiya," it might have said, but didn't. "Hmm..." Ooawagaeri thought hard while looking at the contraption. "This isn't what I was expecting." Hideyoshi, peeking over his shoulder, had the same manner of expression on her face. "What...creature is that?" "It was supposed to be a fox to carry us in a grand showing," the masked man answered. He then hopped into the waiting seat. A moment later, Hideyoshi slid in behind him. The raw power of this motorized cycle thrummed through him as he settled his hands over its bars. "Perhaps this will be better." "Y'all kids have fun now," the cart driver mumbled. A moment later, his hat was ripped off his head by the thunderous wind they kicked up in passing. Soon, he was a mere dot behind them. Reaching up, as though guided by some unseen law, Ooawagaeri found a pair of sunglasses hanging on the dashboard and slid them on. They fit perfectly. "To Skyhold!" he shouted. At something approaching the speed of sound, Ooawagaeri and Hideyoshi ate up the distance to the towers in the distance with startling alacrity. Soon, the gates themselves were visible. Two heavy, forbidding wooden doors were closed solidly within the surrounding stonework, but a small booth had been erected just nearby. A line of husky warriors in various stages of equipment lined up there. They scattered, however, as Ooawagaeri's ride approached with a screeching fury. He skidded to a stop as an oddly familiar figure waved him down from the stand. "Sir! Sir! Over here, please! All applicants must sign in at the gate." Okuni, no hint of recognition in her one great eye, smiled at the erstwhile Black Blade and foisted a clipboard in his direction. Ooawagaeri gracefully tipped his sunglasses. "Sure thing." He wrote down his name first, then puzzled a bit over the section next to it. "Special Talent." After another moment's consideration, he added "sculpting." Passing the paper back, he watched as Hideyoshi did the same with her name but wrote "fire breathing" in the second space. "How long until we begin?" he asked as he handed the form back. "You're the eleventh and the twelfth, I think," Okuni answered, "We're expecting three more, for a total of fifteen." "Thank you." Sliding his sunglasses back into place, Ooawagaeri pulled on the throttle and eased his motorized cycle into town. The great wooden gates swung open silently to admit him. A small bridge led over a stream before opening on to a great variety of buildings circled about a large central fountain. Beyond, the main keep, from which the city's walls extended like wings, towered above. A balcony had been constructed to extend quite a way out in order to allow for address over the square. Something seemed a bit odd about the buildings, but Ooawagaeri had other things on his mind. "Why the need for this contest? If she is the Eternal Stationmast— I mean, the Eternal Princess, wouldn't she have time to see everyone?" He could feel the shrug of Hideyoshi's shoulders from behind him. "Who knows? Maybe she enjoys it?" "Oh, hey Ooawagaeri." This was from Bedivere, Knight of the Siege Perilous, who cruised up beside the pair as though she had every right to be there. "Good afternoon," the erstwhile Black Blade answered, unfazed. And yet Bedivere was not the only strange figure to greet them. Coming upon the fountain, a medley of inhuman shapes and monstrous forms rose up around them without warning. A towering woman with one eye and wicked claws stood alongside a skeleton twenty feet tall. Beyond, a man made of stone lurked in the shadows and a ghostly woman holding a dripping red katana watched him with malicious eyes. It was a veritable Night Parade, and Ooawagaeri recognized all of them. "Have you seen Lady Hakutaku?" he asked casually. The crowd parted, revealing a little horned figure wearing a black cloak with a hood. She lifted a cup to her mouth and took a long sip before stepping forward to answer him. "I threw that name away a long time ago, buster." "I see," he replied. "What should we call you, then?" Hakutaku leered at him from beneath her hood, then wiped away her milk mustache menacingly. "I'm the big boss around here, so you'd better call me Ō-taku." Any answer Ooawagaeri might have given to that, and there were quite a few, was quelched out by a fanfare of trumpets as a small figure appeared on the great balcony above. From here it was hard to make out details, but Ooawagaeri noted the telltale crested helmet above an intricate blue dress. The Princess Masamune, no doubt. "Great performers of the East and West," she orated, "Welcome to Skyhold! You are here to entertain me, the Endless Princess!" From within the crowd, Bedivere leaned over to whisper to Ooawagaeri. "Wasn't it the Immortal Princess? I feel like the quality of the writing has really dipped lately." "I'm not well-versed in writings, so I couldn't give you a good opinion on that," the masked man responded with a grave whisper in turn.Created Content
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27 Jan 2023
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