pawnstorm | intro ♚ july

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intro ♚ july

WELCOME TO CAISSA

We’ve all had those dreams: you wake up on a table, to blurry, ominous images and the certainty that you are absolutely buck-naked in a room full of strangers. This is not quite it.

Instead, you come awake to the sun on your face. The soft burble of water nearby. The hustle and bustle of a busy street and the faint, fortifying smell of bread. You open your eyes and there’s no one there at your bedside, but there is what appears to be the end of the world happening just beyond your window.

There’s a crack in the world across the sky, the “sun” is the totally unnatural light spilling from that crack straight into your eyes, and someone’s left a neatly pressed and folded uniform at the foot of the bed that isn’t yours. Somewhere in the room, there’s a strange clatter like beads, the click of claws on the floor.

Something’s in here with you.

Also, you are naked.

ONE ♟ Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo

Your Carriers and the floor nannies in your rooms relay, in unison and in the curt voice of Secretary Alexandre Verdoni, a public service announcement informing all Heroes of the Delphine Grand Ball, a masquerade hosted by the Gammonian Embassy to celebrate the Heroes’ successful defeat of Noir in the Lasker Incident and the safe arrival of international foccer superstar, Ryder Wreckham. It will be held tonight at 6 PM at the White Rose Multipurpose Function Building. There will be dancing, a live orchestra, a buffet and flowing drinks, and plenty of Blanc’s finest to schmooze with, so don’t miss it! The abrupt and lavish invitation might rattle the new arrivals, but those who’ve been here longer don’t seem surprised, and many don’t look very pleased, either.

Masks and formal wear are both said to be an absolute must, but if you’re strapped for cash or festive spirit, you could get away with wearing a clean Hero uniform. But why would you when Gammon’s elites are willing to provide Heroes with complementary masks, suits and dresses precisely for the occasion? And if you need any help with your clothes, hair, makeup, or date, don’t hesitate to ask your friends or the Hall of Glory’s maids and butlers for help.

As you get ready for the ball, your floor nannies may flip through a few radio stations to set the mood; one of them just so happens to be airing Voices from the Other Tide, a popular radio show based in Lasker’s The Shield. Its target audience is comprised of international refugees and immigrant communities, so you may have caught the show before during your stay in Lasker or your visits to Sparrow Towns all over the country.

Rocco Ricci: You are listening to Voices from the Other Tide! This fine Delphine evening, the suns are shining, the moons are just about to change color, and do YOU know where your trains are? I’m your host, Rocco Ricci, coming to you live from the center of The Shield! We’ve been looking at the fallout of the latest chapter in the war with Noir, the railway attacks that happened a few weeks ago right here in the heart of our very own city. I have with me today Nokoru Nokozaki, and it’s about that time. Time to let the survivors have their say, eh? What do you say, Nokozaki?

Nokoru Nokozaki: Ah, I’d like to say thank you for inviting me, and thank you very much for doing this show. I apologize if I am not able to give many clear answers, it was a very confusing time. A very confusing trip. I still don’t know how I survived, to be honest.

Ricci: Don’t sweat it, no sweat, eh? I’ll be asking all the questions and giving you half the answers, all you need to do is work with me and give our listeners a taste of what it was like, getting trapped in the middle of all that. Explosions and magic fireworks and what was that I heard, the Blanc military running around like chickens with their heads up their—

Nokozaki: Yes, thank you very much. It was a normal trip, to visit family in the— in The Shield, I believe you call this? I am not a refugee, but I know many who tried to settle in what we call the Blackest Empire, and tried to start again in the Lawless Lands, and failed. They came here, looking for something. I came here to see how they lived.

Ricci: Right, right, that’s how it always goes, isn’t it? Better bacon, better wallpaper, it’s what we’re all here for. Why, back when I was a— [ a sudden whine of feedback ] … Thank you, thank you, I’ll have that mic back. A recap for our listeners, a train with some 800 refugees was attacked and destroyed by Noir infiltrators just a couple weeks ago! Nokozaki here is one of the very few survivors. My condolences. Condolences.

Nokozaki: Thank you… It was lucky for me, I was in the mines in Shatranj. I have endurance, you know, I can walk very long distances without food, without water. No shelter. In the mountains we passed through, there is only bad weather. And when they blew up the train cars, we had to walk home on our own. Ah, but not home, you understand.

Ricci: I sure do. What was it, there was a rumor you came back with Commander de Lisbrand of the Blanc brass? There’s a firecracker if I’ve ever seen one — not that I’ve clapped my own eyes on her yet, may I be blessed — word has it she was stranded up in the mountains all on her lonesome for a while when Noir blew the whole army off the map, and she walked her fine self back to civilization! Why, we could do a whole segment on that alone!

Nokozaki: Is that not what we are doing? I assumed… I was to talk about my experiences marching with the Lady de Lisbrand, they are calling it the Iron March, I hear? She was not alone, but trapped in the mountain with a very small number of soldiers. And us, we were in the car with them when the bomb went off, but we did not know what had happened then. Only after we returned to Lasker…

Ricci: Oh, we know all about the Iron March! Is it true you all had to survive on rock moss and wild mountain cat?! Our listeners have gone wild with speculation! [ some rustling and clearing of throat ] But of course, of course you’re quite traumatized, I’m sure. A very difficult time. This is just one of many, many stories we’ve heard coming out of the Sorokina Mountains in recent days, and many more of them feature our Lady de Lisbrand. Stay tuned for some important upcoming guests, several of whom are still searching for family members gone missing in the chaos…

Despite the flurry of preparations and rumors flying about the ball in every alleyway, not everyone is interested in Delphine’s most prestigious event. Many of Caissa’s most eligible maidens have never danced at something so public! Some otherwise upstanding citizens just can’t be bothered to go, especially since they’re not the ones getting sponsored for free clothes. What’s the point in dropping half a year’s worth in wages on a fancy suit and tie or a ball gown?

For those who don’t wish to have anything to do with Blanc’s upper echelon or its martial celebrations, Uptown Caissa is abuzz with the biggest civilian event of the month: Festivale de la Ceinturonne, named after the sparkling, silver galaxy you can see on clear, summer night skies.

How about you, Hero? Which celebration will you choose? Or perhaps you'd like to double dip?

TWO ♟ Delphine Grand Ball

As two men in dapper suits greet you with synchronized bows and throw open the doors to the grand ballroom, the mellow strains of a live orchestral waltz flow out, filling the extravagant hall with the sound of soulful strings and whimsical woodwinds. Beautifully-dressed dancers move in pairs on the marble floor, swaying and gliding under a brilliant, crystal sky of chandeliers. The large, open arches that line the west side of the hall are decorated with massive velvet curtains that billow gently in the night breeze and hide both shyer dancers and small tables of finger foods. Young, passionate couples and colleagues in cahoots alike—sometimes it’s hard to distinguish the two—throng the balconies outside, enjoying the clear starred sky and the glow of Oubliette close at hand.

The crown jewel of the evening is, of course, the exquisitely bedecked and room-length tables laden with high-class food and drink the likes of which neither you nor the vast majority of ordinary Caissans have ever seen or heard. And they keep bringing out more! No spot on the table is to be left bare for the remainder of the evening! (Gerald, Hall of Glory Head Butler, highly recommends the champagne!) Some tables, however, might hold familiar dishes from French and British—er, Blanc and Gammonian cuisine. Most eye-catching are the tiered displays of pastel marshmallow cups and the tall and ornate fondue fountains of cascading chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla. They’re a homage to the mallow-colored moon of Delphine, the goddess of love, and tradition suggests you share a mallow with someone you care about.

Blanc’s richest and most influential are all present and accounted for. If they’re not waltzing or eating caviar, then they will be conversing among themselves over exquisite wine. Some try to catch the attention of Ryder, whose giant and suspiciously realistic fur coat and suit look wholly inappropriate for the weather. He smokes an expensive-looking pipe encrusted with diamonds while a small, diligent bodyguard serves as his very own footrest. Prime Minister Thierry Toussaint mingles with the noblest of families, his mask adorned with feathers that fall nearly to the floor. Both individuals are as sought after as they are difficult to approach… You’d have better luck simply mingling with other VIPs and soliciting their opinions.

Most are full of hot air and idle gossip, but some express open discontent with Ryder’s views; must be that speech he made a while ago. Others take issue with the Prime Minister’s handling of affairs; still others have whispered doubts of Secretary Verdoni’s loyalties to share with you; Commander de Lisbrand does not escape scrutiny either, despite not being present. There’s also talk of the new wave of Blanc leadership, though you can never quite get a name to go with the ambitious rumors. However, you will notice that, despite their poisonous tongues, Blanc’s best and brightest seem to be quite taken with you!

This is your chance. What you say to the VIPs can influence their opinions of Blanc’s leadership, the Lasker incident, and Blanc’s course of action from here on out, for better or for worse. (You are allowed to control the unnamed VIP NPCs. What did you tell them?)

THREE ♟ Wish Upon A Star

Maybe you looked at the people around you, the ones you’d be dancing and schmoozing and seen with in the papers the morning after, and thought, ”Not happening.” Perhaps the ballroom is too grand, the people too snazzy, or the music too classy; it makes your head spin right round. Some fresh air and eavesdropping on the veranda may just clear your head.

On the way out, you may notice a certain someone sitting at one of the veranda tables, surrounded by paperwork and a delicately stacked pile of beignets. Shouldn’t Secretary Verdoni allow himself to celebrate for once in his life? Upon closer (and discreet) inspection, it looks as if the paperwork is exclusively composed of reports on the Lasker incident. Does Verdoni look increasingly unhappy the deeper he digs into the stack? It’s also possible his face is just stuck that way.

It may be best to leave him to his work; though trying to engage him in conversation will lead to:

Verdoni
Do I look like I have the time to speak with you?

[ he says briskly, but relents quickly ]

Perhaps just a moment. The situation in Lasker is improving, thanks to your efforts. Well done. Your work in reaching out to residents of The Shield has eased tensions, though it’s still a long ways away from what I’d consider good.

Of course, our work is never done. [ his gaze flicks back to the paperwork before him; it’s clear by ‘our’ he means ‘my’ ] That’s not even getting into the reports I’ve been hearing from Petrosian. People disappearing, strange things in the river… it may be nothing, but keep your eyes open.

Should you leave the premises entirely and walk on through Uptown Caissa, you’ll find the chance to experience an entirely different aspect of Blanc culture. Around this time of the year, the week-long Festivale de la Ceinturonne is taking place in the streets and skies of the capital: the people of Caissa are heavily encouraged to write poetry about their dreams and desires so as to receive blessings from Delphine, goddess of love and the arts. These small wishes are folded and tied to trees around the Oubliette Temple Shrine.

Many commoners appear cheerful as they gather and offer their wishes to Delphine. The bright, star-shaped lanterns hanging from buildings and trees create a mellow atmosphere and attract crowds of lovey-dovey couples around who seem too happy to have wishes at all. Maybe you feel up to taking a peek at some of the local merchandise: colored cookies and good luck charms lovingly made in bird and mermaid shapes, or well-coveted couple bracelets with two parts that make one whole. But be careful! Losing your bracelet is said to bring bad luck!

The streets are also absolutely bustling with errant performers of all kinds, many of whom tell their own versions of the story of la Ceinturonne: said to be the sash of Delphine herself stretched across the sky in a river of stars, it separates the famous doomed couple of legend. The bluebird Ilatar and the mermaid weaver Geva are said to have been cursed by Delphine for their carelessness, and may only meet once a year at the mouth of the great river. Some performers may be looking for helping hands to play roles in the story! Let your inner thespian shine!

But not everyone can be happy, even once a year: the rumblings of civil unrest in Lasker have increased in volume ever since the train attacks. Many of the aforementioned street performers this year seem to have added a political or darker bend to our annual tale of great romance: in some versions, Ilatar and Geva backstab Delphine outright, while in others, the river itself turns against the lovers, and so on and so forth. A great deal of graffiti has been smeared over the pristine walls behind the temple, lambasting the Prime Minister for selling his country to the Gammonian and Noir old money.

If you wish to quell the unrest, you may put on counter performances, clean the graffiti, or invent your own, more creative means of quieting the people. Be advised, though: Blanc’s masses have had their eyes opened, and it will take some fancy footwork to close them again.

INFO ♟ Welcome!

Welcome to Crosscheck's July intro log! For any further questions, please see the FAQ or reach us at the Contact Us page. Have fun!

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[And here Belthazar was just minding his own business, killing some time before being guilted into going to a party-- but here comes a GIANT RAMPAGING PLANT MAN and he's coming this way! He tries to make himself smaller, but when that doesn't work and the man grabs him, he yells indignantly. His small fingers become like claws, though pawing at the planty stranger doesn't do much.]

UNHAND ME, YOU CRETIN! Or I shall incinerate you where you stand!

[Like a kitten declaring world domination.]

[Syrlya hardly notices his fingers digging into his arm in his panic, and his grip doesn't lighten.] I need to know--

[At least, until the pigeon flutters right in his face, repeatedly, forcing him to let go of Belthazar as he stumbled back.

"You need to calm down! I haven't had the chance to explain a single thing!"]

Don't--pff, Who could be calm about this?!

[Belth lands on his ass. He's very graceful, you see.]

Ugh-- [He huffs as he gets back to his feet.] For Light's sake, go back to your room and listen to the poor aggrieved bird! And put some clothes on, there are women about!

I--[He leans back with a frown and sucks in a breath as he looks between Belth and the bird. Okay, he's not where he was, he's not where anything makes sense, but he's not in danger...

So he slinks back to the room he came from and peers in to assure there's no trap. He hesitates, then disappears through the doorway.

That's your room, Belth.]

[He sighs, but doesn't yell anything else at the man... and then he notices Syr is going into 205. That's his room. Granted, it's a room he shares with other people, but still. He mutters something in Thalassian under his breath.]

Wonderful.

[He takes in a deep breath, then turns the doorknob and goes in.]

So we're to share a room, [he says flatly, obviously very excited about the notion. He tosses his bookbag on his bed.] If we are to do so without problems, you will have to respect personal space. That means asking questions rather than grabbing random people and holding them hostage.

I have been here a little while, so I can answer some questions.

[Syrlya shuffles into one of the uniforms before sitting on the edge of the bed. He glances between the prattling pigeon and Belth, trying to parse what both of them are saying.] I--[He ducks his head sheepishly and glances aside.] Sorry. Thank you.

[Belthazar busies himself with reorganizing his few books while the pigeon finishes the introduction. He wishes he had more reading material, desperately, but there's no replacing Adrasteius' library here. At least Adra himself is still within reach.

When the carrier dismisses himself, Belth finally gives Syr his attention.]

Now, [he begins,] What is it you were looking for?

[He turns back to Belth, resting his hands in his lap.] My friends. They were just with me before--well. I suppose it does not matter now.

... There is really no way to return?

[His aloof expression dims, becoming something more sad. He looks down at his lap.]

We are, of coursed, promised that Blanc will do everything in its power. Certainly we cannot be held here forever. My father has children to raise, and you have your friends to attend to, and I am sure some seasoned adventurers have their worlds to save.

I have seen people leave these halls and never return-- but it is not a choice. They simply disappear in a shower of light. It could be something to do with mana incompatibility, or the instability of taking someone out of a primary timeline... I don't know.

I would daresay there is a lot of instability moving someone to an entirely different world. [He shifts on the bed and looks at the flower carrier smiling at him.]

But while we are here, they ask us to fight for them. Does this world need saving, too?

Having studied arcane magic, I would have to agree. There is much more danger involved than one would think.

[That is... an exceedingly creepy sunflower. He wonders what kind of magical potion it would make, if it should be dried or boiled.

Oh, right. Someone's talking to him.]

... Yes, it does. The enemy is ruthless and terrible. They drive out goodhearted people, they capture and torture for no reason, and they misuse magic in the most awful of ways.

... I see. [Syrlya leans back and glances down, pursing his lips.] But what of where we come from? What about our own worlds?

... That, I do not know. I think the same magic that took us here preserves our timelines, or else my history would have been very different. My father is here, you see, but he is from a different time, and I had not noticed his absence. I have heard similar things from other people.

[He breathes out.]

I think it is safe to say that nothing will happen while we are gone, as time is quite subjective, but we would all rather get back to our lives anyway.

I hope that is right. [He looks back up.] You and your father are both here together, then? How long has it been?

Two months and a few days-- not long, I fear, but he has been here longer than I have.

[He rubs at his forehead.]

... Forgive me, how long is a month? Compared to, perhaps, a season? A week? A year?

A month is a full cycle of the largest moon as it waxes and wanes, about four weeks total. There are twelve months in a year.

[A pause.]

Do you not measure time by the moon?

Oh, no. The other races already had an established calendar that we adopted, based on the seasons. Days to weeks to seasons to years. I did not even realize the moon did that--I mean, I knew it changed shape but I never counted the time!

The calendar here is based on months? What month is it?

I think the moon was chosen to keep track of days because otherwise, days would become arbitrary and difficult to keep track of. [Something like that. He's not big on history, even though he loves it.]

Delphine, though it's analogous to that of July.

Oh. [That makes about as little sense to him as he figured. So--] In Tyria, it was the middle of Colossus--um, that is, winter.

Then you've missed an entire season. It is summer, now.

[It is dreadfully hot. Belthazar hopes they can shift to autumn before long.]

But what if the years of this world are actually behind Tyria's, an instead in arriving have rewound a season? [That's probably too much theoreticals for now though.]

... Not that it matters, I suppose. [He's about to continue speaking, but one of the floor nannies comes knocking on their door. She doesn't wait long to open it, exasperated to find them sitting down and not getting ready for the ball.]

A ball?

So? It does not matter, and I do not particularly care even it did.

[At least he's honest about it. At the mention of the ball, he makes a sour face.]

There is a celebration regarding our recent victory, thrown by the nobility, who of course have no idea of the true cost of war. I am going but only so that I can sabotage the damned thing. Clothes are provided, obviously, but I am going to fetch my father, so I shall see you later.

[Syrlya raises a brow and jerks his attention back to Belth.] Sabotage it? For who?

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intro ♚ july

k205;

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ignore that, i hit a button

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