Exalted: Shadow and Steel, Chapter I - Blood and Iron

[Arhra]

Vaya was a kingdom in a bottle. Hemmed by high mountains to the north and south, it lurked in a wide, almost bowl shaped valley, tiny mountain streams trickling into the lazy river that drunkenly wandered towards the west.

The hills turned steeper and densely forested to the east. Pacts with the lords of that forest, ancient and significant, forbade the cutting of any live wood farther than a stone's throw from the old white roads creeping through that place.

The neck of the bottle was to the west, the pursed lips of the mountains drawing in to a single pass, quickly becoming wide, open plains beyond.

Life inside the bottle was ruled by the Most Congenial Peers of Vaya, a line of nobility descended from the gods themselves. They dwelled apart from the people they ruled, their tree wrapped palace built on the ruins of a far older structure. The local people followed their quaint rituals and prayed most fervently to their local gods, to the Peers and to Vaya itself to give thanks for their lot and to avert misfortune.

Vaya had the faded glory of an ancient place, one whose time had passed.

This was not true. It had never been true.

* * *

Surely this journey was cursed.

Such were the thoughts percolating through the minds of the caravan's travellers. The Guild had been running a small trade route through Vaya for longer than living memory. Three caravans vanishing from the face of Creation in two months was unheard of. Only one survivor had made it back to civilisation.

He'd been starved, feverish and mad. A strange burn was seared around the oozing wound on his back and he ranted about choking smoke and blank faced demons, their great round eyes dark and pitiless.

The road god had given no response to the offerings for the journey left at his shrine.

The three caravans were still half a day from the pass, climbing a steadily steepening slope. Pairs of scouts had been periodically sweeping the road ahead, but had not found anything. It was nothing but rocky hills and trees.

Serga Vell, the caravan-master, had decided to press ahead through this pass. He knew the men (and one woman) who had led the other three caravans, or so he claimed, and they were all idiots. Whatever clutch of bandits had tried some scare tactics and managed to run off with that pack of incompenents' caravans, they weren't going to do the same to Serga Vell!

Besides, the other way would take WEEKS, did they know how much that cost?

The caravan master felt confident. His long suffering guard captain had found no less than two godbloods to help guard them. One was a minor Peer, riding near the front upon his horse and the other was a veteran soldier with a shield and armour of gold. Gold was perhaps a bad colour in these troubled times, but Serga Vell would take any help where he could find it.

There came distant thuds and then whistling from above.

Half a dozen oblate spheres smashed down onto the road at random, tossing up dirt around them. The caravan in the middle was struck, smashing the traces holding the horses in place. They broke free, nearly trampling two of the guards as they dashed past the front caravan.

The guards tried to form up, heads scanning side to side for an enemy. People were shouting, the wagoneers trying to pull the horses and calm them. There was a confusion of movement as some travellers decided they wanted to get out of the caravans as others decided that was the safest place to be. Others gawked at the broken wagon.

The spheres split their metal shells and thick smoke hissed forth with a hideous scream. The horses screamed too, fighting against their halters. The smoke didn't move like it should, building up into grey-yellow domes. The middle caravan becamse a shadow inside one, coughing and shouts as people tried to stagger clear, eyes streaming with tears.

The other five domes, forming a misshapen pentagon around the caravans, began closing together as they grew and rolling in towards the center.

[Overcast]

Syren whistled to himself, lying in the back of his caravan looking over the items. It was something he found himself periodically doing to keep his mind from slipping away. While he had started the trip ready for an attack to come, as time drifted on he had just gotten bored, and without a distraction he was becoming antsy. Third time he'd been over these things with the same general result, nothing shocking.

Then of course a sound, distant at first, with a faint whistle that became louder over time,

"That's not a good sound."

It certainly wasn't. The explosions after were no nicer. The caravan shook and almost knocked him off his feet, he stumbled for the door and looked about, seeing the various spheres dug into the dirt and one sitting in the ruined remains of a caravan, they opened and hissed their payload, smoke drifting into the air and taking the form of domes, and they seemed to be coming together,

"Masik, you're a clever man, is smoke supposed to do that?"

He knew it wasn't, but he hoped his business partner might inform him as to why.

[Sithdarth]

Cap had a bad feeling about this place but how else was he going to figure out what was really going on. He needed to see one of these attacks up close and hopefully he'd be capable of protecting the caravan making it a win-win situation. He was still a little upset about what he had been asked to do to prove himself to the Captain of the guard. Cap didn't like being a bully and he always felt like a bully when fighting less divine opponents. Which is why when the Captain of the guard asked him to prove his worth in a brawl Cap almost declined the job. However, he really needed to get to the bottom of what was attacking these caravans so he reluctantly agreed. The fight didn't last very long which made it quite clear Cap was more than just human. Luckily he was able to pass it off as being godblooded which would hold up as long as his he was careful with his anima and caste mark.

Cap was walking near the front of the caravan when the spheres came whistling in overhead. As the smoke began to spread Cap realized that it definitely wasn't your average smoke. He squatted slightly and concentrated jumping straight up as high as he possibly could manage. (Activating Monkey Leap Technique with 3 motes of personal essence leaving 10 motes left making my vertical jump 10 yards). He hoped he'd be able to get high enough to see past the smoke domes and catch anyone trying to attack in the confusion.

[Krylo]

"Yes, smoke always acts like that," Masik responded as he gathered up his few belongings and headed to leave the wagon with only a hint of irritation. "At least when it isn't actually smoke and is actually some sort of dense noxious gas. Speaking of, I suggest a strategic retreat for the moment."

Masik hopped down from the caravan and waved at Syren to follow him away from the caravan and the balls of smoke heading in. He figured they had a better chance of survival if they could avoid as much of the fumes as possible. But glancing toward the rest of the caravan he saw the guards forming up and grimaced a bit.

He quickly let out another shout, "Get away from the caravan, avoid the smoke! You can't defend it if you get caught in that!" He didn't know if they'd listen, as he was in no position to command them, but he hoped they would. Just not enough to stick around and make sure.

He couldn't help them if he was affected by it as well, he reasoned as he dashed toward an opening between two of the domes of smoke rolling toward him.

[Arhra]

At the front of the caravan, Cap leapt high into the air. Seeing the terrain unfold around him. He looked down on domes of cryptic smoke and heard the sounds of panic behind him. There had to be enemies out there, hoping to attack in the confusion.

No-one was there.

As he descended again, he heard a shrill, piercing whistle to his right.

No-one was there.

It was just a moment Cap saw it, the split second before the growing bank of smoke rolled over them and his descent blocked his view. Black somethings were climbing out of the ground.

Syren and Masik had emerged from the front caravan, trying to figure out what was going on. A horse galloped past, almost bowling them down.

"Get away from the caravan, avoid the smoke!" Masik shouted, seeing the guards trying to form up. "You can't defend it if you get caught in that!" He picked a promising looking gap between the domes of smoke and dashed for it.

Three others, one half dressed, took off after him.

Walls of smoke pressed in ahead of Masik. Those spheres were pumping it out at a phenomenal rate. It didn't look like he was going to make it.

"I can guarantee that if you boys don't listen to him you are all going to die." Syren added. "Gather up and follow, or we're going to lose everything!"

"What are you doing, you cowards!?" Serga Vell screamed from his vantage point next to the wagoneer. "It's just smoke!" The caravan master was forced to shout over the rising sounds of coughing and choking coming from the middle wagon which had vanished completely into the smoke.

The caravan guards' captain tried to take command. "Form up around the front caravan!" Brosmoth's deep voice rang out, sounding remarkably calm. "Stay together, keep close and we'll push through it! We're sitting ducks for whatever's out there otherwise."

A third of the guards and the Peer of Vaya had been guarding the rear. It was impossible to tell what had become of them.

The time before the caravan was completely engulfed was rapidly running out.

The whistle sounded again, from somewhere ahead to the right within the smoke. In reply came dozens of sharp claps, like one stick striking another. Clap, clap, clap.

The sounds were closing in.

* * *

Harken was probably not very happy. The young Lunar had come into Vaya from the East, passing through the stretch of primeval forest and back into lands that tolerated the presence of man once more.

A day ago Harken had passed through a village lying out on the fringes of Vaya, its residents quiet and fearful speaking of a shadowland that had floated away. But that was not what Harken had come here for.

There had been talk of wheels of fire in the sky and people vanishing. Most recently, an entire village a day's trip to the north of his current location had vanished off the face of Creation. That, perhaps, was related to his business here

This village had lost three so far. It was a collection of thirty or so buildings, with one hundred and fifty souls living in them. One of those three people from this village had come back, speaking of the wondrous things they had seen and how one of the Far People now walked amongst them, skin marked by beautiful patterns of bright silver.

Clearly a Lunar sticking their neck out so that it might be bitten off by something huge and nasty and run by the Sidereal Conspiracy.

There were many peasants here. At present Harken could see no people whose skin was marked with silvery patterns here. This was something he would have to change.

[Red Mage Black]

This would have to be taken care of quickly. If people were already talking about them, then it would only be a matter of time before a Wyld Hunt would arrive.

Walking into the village, Harken was tall and incredibly muscular for his age, carrying the look of a young barbarian. With his bronzed skin, unkempt brown hair down to his neck and grey eyes. What would keep the ladies from swooning over him was his horribly scarred face, deep in his cheeks, ruining his nose and otherwise making him look like he tried fighting a bear. As armored as he was under that heavy armor, he moved through it like it was a second skin.

If a giant walking into the place didn't give him any looks, then he was about to receive some. He would grab the nearest villager he could find, keeping a constant scowl on his face. "I heard there was one of the 'Far People' here. I came here to look for them. I would like to see the tattoos they keep talking about. I want to know where they are." He said in a very demanding tone, feeling no need to beat around the bush about the topic.

[Sithdarth]

Cap was not terribly pleased with what he just saw. As he was returning to the ground he shouted above the din "To the right! They're crawling out of the ground." The instant his feet touched the ground he was off like a shot taking up a position between the forming guards and the incoming smoke.

"Stuff the Caravan and the goods. Everyone should head for safety and I'll cover the retreat. We can't fight effectively in this smoke."

Unstrapping his shield Cap braced for what was to come straining his senses to catch any sign of the incoming danger.

[Arhra]

Entering the village, the first person Harken found was a spotty youth in his teens, kicking rocks about on the village green and obviously shirking whatever work he should be doing. Looking up, the villager saw six feet of scars and solid muscle bearing down on him and wisely fled.

Harken ran him to ground within ten paces.

Hauling on his captie's rough smock, Harken leaned in and scowled, demanding the Far People be revealed to him.

The poor kid dissolved into a spluttering wreck.

"Excuse me, noble sir." An older woman presented herself to Harken, wrapped in shawls. "I can take you to where they meet us."

[Red Mage Black]

This wasn't any surprise to Harken, who had to chase someone down to give him answers. Too bad this behavior wouldn't be tolerable to 'normal folk' or his mentor. The kid was annoying him by sputtering nonsense and that was even too bad that he couldn't just toss the boy aside. Hearing the woman, his eyes turned in her direction. "Get back to work." He muttered to the boy before dropping him.

Standing straight again, he watched the heavily garbed woman with a wary gaze and yet his scowl hadn't disappeared. "I'm not here to hurt them. I heard the news that Far People were here and something about silver tattoos. So yes, take me to them so that I may confirm these tales."

[Krylo]

"Dammit," Masik muttered under his breath as he saw the smoke closing faster than he could make it. Staying where he was wasn't an option, however, he'd soon be covered in the stuff if he did. The only option was to stick to the plan.

Taking a deep breath, the twilight pulled in as much air as he could before putting an arm infront of his nose and mouth to help keep the fumes out if he didn't make it through the gap. Rushing headlong he'd close his eyes if necessary just before hitting the gas in the hopes that it would protect him long enough to reach the other side.

He could only hope that it was enough. . . And that whatever was attacking the caravan wouldn't swoop down on him as soon as he broke through.