conversations: human
conversations:  Spoiler 
  
  You will play a group of Solar Exalted who, as a group of adventures thrown together by the threat of the Wyld Hunt and the difficulties of living in the far North, travel the icy tundra together. You might not be a close knit as the Perfect Circles of the wonderous First Age, but you recognise the need for someone to watch out for you while you sleep, and fith by your side when the uglier side of Creation rears its head. After a particular close shave pursued by a splinter group of the Wyld Hunt called the Ever Hunt, you find yourself taking refuge in the isolated White Valley City, great and vibrant empire that, thousands of miles from The Blessed Isle and removed from the military politics of the near North, enjoys a life of relative plenty, the great natural geysers that run under much of the Northern Wastes bubbling to the surface, fuelling great steam powered contraptions and a busy and fruitful eco system. Having spent two weeks there in relative anonymity, clear out the various rat-infestations that seem to blight every tavern you visit, you suddenly find yourselves called to the hall of the Triumvirate, a council of three wise elders who oversee the City and keep it safe from harm.
  
  They relate to you a story that all White Valley Inhabitants are slowly becoming aware of. A great barbarian horde, under the rule of some unknown but certainly terrible power, is amassing some miles North-East of the White Valley. Whilst they seemed somewhat benign to begin with, perhaps just a random convergence of a number of tribes more keen to trade than fight, the reported disappearance of no fewer than three nomadic tribes, along with the sacking of four small townships that pay nominal tithe to The White Valley City in the past month has raised call from concerns. Then (they tell you, with a tone of infinite wisdom exasperated by the savages that beset them) a messenger was sent: the great barbarian army demand three hundred fighting men and weapons enough for two thousand by the end of the month (some two weeks), or The White Valley City will burn. The triumvirate then tell you that they have known of your prescence for sometime but, wishing to avoid relying on the exalted, they wished to deal witht he problem themselves. However, they find that the White Valley City's peaceful militia can do little against such a force, and that they must ask of your assistance. Thus they ask that you, guardians of law and bringers of light, save their city and vanquish this threat to the stability in the North. They point out that only in the North is there any real possibility of effective resistance against the empire.
  ::Go an investigate the sacked towns.
  ::Go and speak to the remaining nomadic tribes North and North-East of the city.
  ::Recon the barbarian encampments themselves.
  ::Investigate the mountains North by North-West of the Barbaian encampment. It is thought that it might hold either the base of whoever leads the barbarians or some other wonderment, given that exalted of all flavours have ventured there before.
  ::Investigate the so called Halls of Woe, a deserted settlement west of the city, a place said to hold the past, present and future of the region.
  ::Go and take the barbarians head-on(?)
   
  
  
  You now stand in the town hall of White Valley City. Modest tapestries hang from the wall either side of a rostrum upon which the triumvirate of elders stand. Guards in simple but good-quality armour, holding halberds and with a sword on their belts line the walls, watching you intently. Your time in White Valley City has given you the impression that the general populace don't care too much for your kind, but at least here you are not hunted, anathema. It is early in the morning. The sun breaks over White Valley City, waking the inhabitants to another day of hard work and industrious living. You are well rested and it would be a shame to waste the day; the fate of the city rests in your hands.
conversations: Lord Sidereal:
conversations: human
conversations:  Swift Prosperity had dealt with plenty of "councils" before on behalf of the Guild. This was by far his favorite, mostly since they weren't trying to rob him or sell anyone to slavers.
  
  Bowing slightly, he asked  "Is there anything further you wish to discuss?" . He had learned of the type of bow and closing statement from those he had watched talk to the council before them. He also examined each of Triumvirate's faces upon hearing it, while also glancing towards the guards.
  
   
   Spoiler 
  I'm using Mastery of Small Manners
   
conversations: Ivius:
conversations: human
conversations:  Seven Truths remained silent throughout the entire explanation by the Triumvirate. She moved little underneath the deep-sea blue cloak which hid her features, and her crow mask covered most of her face. The only expression others could see was her mouth, which held a constant grim smile.
  
  She was tense, to be sure. Master Shesu never sent her so far to the North, especially with so vague an instruction. He swore she would figure out what it meant. "Follow the Fair Folk," he said. "They will lead you to your target." She knew precious little else about the target: he was a mortal, and he was indeed a he. His social status, his appearance - they were all mysteries.
  
  Well, so far North, there would be faeries somewhere. Until then, she would do the bidding of these elders of White Valley.
conversations: The Rose Dragon:
conversations: human
conversations:  Purity was getting visibly excited as she listened to the Triumvirate. She usually wasn't too keen on "playing hero" if there wasn't some kind of reward offered first, but this kind of situation could be good. It was big, epic even, and offered a relatively clean cut moral picture. In short, if nothing else, it was good publicity. Not to mention, it sounded fun.
  
  She looked at the others, and said quietly,  "We should find a place to eat, it'd be a good place to talk this out. Be back in a minute." 
  
  Purity knew she stood out somewhat. While her hair was black and her skin was pale, her Realm heritage showed in a more delicate bone structure of the face and rounded cheeks, definitely not suited for North climates. She knew the language, but spoke it with a noticeable accent. So, she threw social graces and caution to the wind and walked over to one of the guards, waving at them cheerfully. She stopped just far enough not to be within striking distance, thinking that would keep them at ease.
  
   "Heya. Any of you know a good place to eat in the morning?"  she said, leaning forward and speaking in a low, conspiratorial tone.
conversations: Rarkasha: