fiamme_rta

( In which Fiamme expounds on the novel idea of er, actually just using the existing rules... )

Please ignore any missing 's or misplaced &s instead of ellipses. Converting to and from Txt a couple of times did odd stuff.

Am I a visual learner? I think so. Should I have cast the same words back, sitting where the faintest echoes of an object lesson were felt?

I am not to blame the trigger, or so Beatrice's Prince says. Blame seems irrelevant. There's a chasm between blame and forgiveness, which should not be crossed lightly.

Are we visual learners?

Current Mood:

contemplative

All those nobles? When they're not duelling in the streets, seducing one another, working at day jobs or charging into battle, does that mean they're lolling about eating bonbons? No! They're gainfully employed in protecting their interests, ruining their rivals, and either oppressing or ministering to the poor, depending on personal inclination.

I'm hoping to get some stuff started via gossip which will give a sense of where the Order of Clarity fits into all this, but I've learned my lesson about trying to do it scene by scene. This, it turns out, is similar to trying to play a game of chess by posing individually "pawn to Knight 4", as opposed to the "look at the board" style where in a couple of poses you reveal you play masterfully, or appallingly, or unevenly, etc, without needing to know where your bishop is. Add to that, I've never yet had a scene go exactly how I've expected it to -- I've ended in some very unexpected hot water when I think I'm being Smooth, Urbane and Charming.

So, does this mean it's all going to be colour, without conflict? Depends really -- I've got a peculiar +sheet with all sorts of non-charging-the-enemy-with-a-lance skills that might be relevant, when it comes to "do I take a consequence?"

I may even be able to offer something tangible to people who cooperate. I guess what I'm wondering is, would this actually add to the game for anyone, or is everyone who wants this kind of stuff getting more than enough already?

Black Road Stuff

1) Infection - (Voted Most Likely To Become Zombie Minion).  Believe me, people were looking sideways at Fiamme and her 11 knights for a while. Can't imagine why.  Longish log, lots of people.

benedict-rta.livejournal.com/80852.html

2) Symptoms - a couple of the more public examples of symptoms.

Short, for the attention challenged: (dishevelled, bloody handed, incoherent)
fiamme-rta.livejournal.com/11210.html#cutid1

Minor and subtle: (Mostyn vs Fiamme: on arranging glasses) 
fiamme-rta.livejournal.com/12069.html#cutid1

3) Attempts at cure/control (these are probably trickier to justify knowing detals about: but both resulted in fewer of the above symptoms for a while).

Dylan's help (indirect reference only), involving some cool gifts he had.  No actual log of the scene though sadly.
fiamme-rta.livejournal.com/9361.html

Lucretia's assistance -- log : fiamme-rta.livejournal.com/9652.html#cutid1

We may have grounds for Chantrises to drink gratis, however, if we're not barred from the premises. I'm sure the number of coffees ordered rose with each stanza endured by the clientele. Speaking of endurance, how is Lettice these days? I hear that your engagement is...

I dislike being played with. Should I assume that when he warns me not to speak of something, and threatens comprehensive vengeance, that he wishes me not to do so? Or should I assume that him confiding in a knight sworn to Bleys, he intends me to take it straight to his ears -- and doing so will clear him in ways protests and denials in his own voice would not? That way madness lies, perhaps.

Cousin, I will defy him. I only wish I knew it was for duty, truth, and Amber's best interest, and not a prideful cry of "Look! Look at me! See me! I mattered enough to be swept from the board!" ...

I'm hoping to go back somewhat to the Order of Clarity's roots as arbitrators, peacemakers, auditors, etc. See these links for ideas of where I'm hoping to head at the moment:

http://wiki.roadtoamber.com/amber-justice
http://wiki.roadtoamber.com/amber-military

Any big departures from this I'd be running past Bleys as the IC patron (and OOC propco, so far as I know).

Painted yourself into a political corner and wondering how to get out? Give me a shout! Unless of course the two parties cordially loathe each other OOC (don't call me then, as my goal's usually to generate play between the parties, not Fix Stuff -- continue your regularly scheduled silent treatment of one another...).

Also, if anyone can shed light on the shenanigans the Order of Clarity got up to in my absence, I'd love to see logs, or synopses, or any clues. I understand feathers were ruffled, IC, and having to RP the Order of Clarity's way back to a trusted position is fine with me -- if I know what we've done.

1) Fiamme has been out of Amber for a year (see journal: last post IC post was October 08 - so that means very little OOC knowledge either! Bear with my ignorance!).

2) The rumours that she was seen in Begma roaring drunk soon after leaving Amber, and escorted from a public fountain for wearing her riding breeches on her head and reciting dirty limericks to the Watch are probably exaggerated. However, she's not been to Begma since. Coincidence?

3) Fiamme is no longer the Knight Commander of the Order of Clarity. This is probably entirely unrelated to item 2). She is still a knight though. once more the Acting Knight Commander of the Order of Clarity.

4) Fiamme was acting somewhat oddly around the time she left - but there was something of a fashion for acting oddly. She appears to have recovered!

Current hooks I'm pursuing include anything to do with Black Road Doom, the military, knights, defence of Amber, catching up with old friends and family for the heck of it, Doom, diplomacy, Blights, Doom and gossip. Look me up!

Miss everyone, miss the story, and the MUSH and am on Twitter as Fiamme for those with a gnat like attention span who really want to get scintillating IRL-Fiamme updates like "Went to another bloody meeting." or "Why do my colleagues insist on UTILISING things they could just USE!"

Not sure what's happened to Knights of Clarity prop -- if it's still around and someone wants it, please to say so and I can do whatever's necessary to transfer ownership! 

Cheers, big ears, and don't burn down Amber.

Summary for Bug Players:

Navarre, Fiamme, and NPCs go from the hospital to the Great Lift, detouring by Fishcutter Square to pick up an NPC knight of clarity and an unknown kid, leaving a screaming NPC woman behind. No changes to bug numbers, Great Lift or buildings.

Cast: Fiamme, Navarre

The red light district has never looked so grim. No one is plying their trade tonight.

Making their way quietly across rooftops, leaping from one building to the next is a small group of men and women dressed in the uniform of the Watch. At their front is Navarre, who seems to have some knowledge of the route they're taking as he's the one pointing to various buildings that get used as launching and landing pads.

There are a small cluster of men by the doors to the Mandrake hospital. Mercenaries, by how heavy on armour and low on uniformity they are. One appears to be physically restraining a short woman in chainmail and the azure and white of the Order of Clarity. "... run things from here?"

"Lady, I don't care if you double what the Duchess gave us we’re getting. We aren't going back out there." The mercenary sounds more tired than angry.

Navarre pauses on the edge of a building close to the hospital and calls to those outside. "Need assistance?" Navarre grins at Fiamme, recognizing the woman from a long time ago now it seems. His hand lifts into the air, hailing her respectfully.

“Blood’s not mine,” she said, brusquely, and folded her arms over the tabard which was stiff with drying gore.

“Orders?” Sir Callum was the next to break the silence. “If they’ve breached the walls…”

“No breach.” Fiamme turned her head to survey her forces. Chainmail polished to a silvery gleam. Tabards of pristine azure and white, and expressions varying from excited, to fearful, to resigned and grim. The veterans were easy to distinguish, despite the uniformity of their garb. None of them look pleased. “You’ll be needed to keep the peace again.”

One of the squires let out a disappointed sigh, and was elbowed by the knight beside her, until she gulped it back and stood with her head lowered.

Fiamme raked the girl with a look, then nodded to a short, stocky knight whose armour showed the marks of repair here and there, even if its polish was no less than the others. “Find Alys if you can. And lose the swords. Take horses. Remind the populace that there’s a rule of law.”

“You want us to go unarmed against the mob?” One of the fresh faced ones, with a full knight’s uniform. She reached for a name, and came up blank. Lukas? Lincoln? Time was when she knew the name of every man in the Clarity uniform.

Time was, of course, you could count them on your fingers.

Fiamme shook her head. “Cudgels should be more than sufficient. You’re to protect the people.”

More than a few faces reflected discomfort, even horror. “But … that’s a peasant’s weapon.”

Fiamme squared her shoulders, fixing a cold look on the speaker. Again she reached for a name, and came up blank. “Peace knots if you must.”

It was Sir Callum who moved first, unbuckling his sword belt. As he laid it on the nearest table others began, reluctantly, to follow suit. More than one looking mutinous, most keeping their faces carefully blank.

“The docks. The market place. You know the drill,” Fiamme said, shortly, then turned away. They would do it, she knew. Not one with the sense to thank me for it.

As she left Callum raised his voice. “You heard the Knight Commander.”
Before the door closed behind her, she heard a mutter, “Sure did. Back to babysitting the proles while Amber burns.”

Events including unexpected child-free status over the weekend (*cheer inlaws!*), an unexpected sick day off work yesterday (*cheer high temperatures in small kids!*) followed by being insomniac at 3am for similar reasons meant extra doses of me. Alas, not going to be the norm! Unless I get fired for posting to LJ from work...

So, since people have kindly been taking me up on my pathetic requests for hooks and scenes, /DO/ use +mail if you're trying to get hold of me. It might well be that I know someone on a more you-friendly schedule to point you at, because my availability is going to drop back to 5am-6.20ish a.m. on weekday mornings, and the occasional 2 hour mid afternoon slot on the weekends, or post 8pm New Zealand time dashes if pre-arranged.

Because I have such a tiny window of play time I do tend to end up stalking the same players over and over. I'm happy to do some plot-passing-over by +mail if schedules get too difficult to align.

It blisters and bruises
And knocks you about with its fists
It leaves you a wreckage
All postaged and packaged
And sealed with a Glasgow kiss

~Carter USM

Alys is in an alleyway, marked by a trail of blood. A lot of blood. Much of it seems to be hers.

Passerby, well dressed with places to go, move by. The few that notice the blood walk quicker; some reach for decorative sword hilts.

Fiamme, unlike so many, stops when she notices the blood. And while she does put her hand on her sword hilt, she follows the trail, eyes flicking from side to side as if expecting some kind of trap.

Location:  Ula's Salon

Cast:  Fiamme, Mostyn, Ula (Morgana and Addison were there in passing)

Location: Somewhere in Kitezh

 GM:   Fiamme

Cast:  Errol, Dulcinea

Intentions: Errol “Save the day!” Dulcinea “Retain dignity.”

Setup: “Nearby” poses show Dulcinea in her position as captive, which cannot be seen by Errol.  There are various compares in there, all of which Errol overwhelmingly succeeds.  Half way through Dulcinea lost connection and became an NPC.

Cast:

NPCs provided by Fiamme (crones, goatheaded men), Beatrice (Starkey, early defenders) and ambience by Sebastopol.  A brief cameo by Jones as Some Other Jones.

Darkness is falling, falling. Heavy clouds lower overhead, occluding stars and moon, shutting out any hint of sunset. The weather is cruel, bitter. Torches are nearly blown out by gusts of wind, and grainy snow is flung against every exposed bit of skin. From the Black Road there has been silence, silence, for the latter part of the day. Burgeoning, impending, doom.