T

The Seventh

The Mask
The ancient game of Roo.

Played on a thin board of seven segments, seven pieces are moved on correlation to the boards patterns which mimic the motions of the stars.
The goal is to get your pieces to the opposite side into the final segment of your opponent but there in lies the trick of the game, for every one of the seven pieces may only come so close to each other or may never share a segment and this rule counts for the opponents pieces as well.
And so each game is a dance of push and pull, giving way and forcing back.
Good games took days to complete.

The Seventh sat at the table at the center of the chamber in front of his own board and studied it.
His pieces had moved into the segments named Yender and Ullhab, for the constellations they mimicked, which saw them about as close as they would like to be able while his opponent had spread out among the segments of Zenn, Phobe and Vralek providing a substantial barrier to his efforts to reach his goal.

The room was lit by seven candles and had seven walls.
Some thought The Seventh took their place too literally and the notion amused him, because they were right, he did.
Around him at the edges of the room were tables and chairs stacked high and neatly. Also on the table was a bowel of dates and a pitcher of water with two simple glasses.

Tonight there was not yet work to do and all was quiet until he heard footsteps come down the hall and he turned his iron mask to observe the door with the patience of death itself.

His opponent was on her way.

@Moina Iasis
 
To receive an invitation from one of the first and the last, well it wasn't something that one could refuse. Not to mention the Boneknitter was curious. Very curious as to what the Seventh wanted with her. She'd followed the directions and was let into non-descript building and led to a room with seven walls of all things. Whether this was his personal home, or part of the First and the Last's headquarters she didn't know.

In front of her, the Seventh sat at a table in front of a game of Roo. The pieces scattered about in the sections of the board like he'd been studying it. Moina inclined her head respectfully, before walking over to join the masked man taking the seat across from him if offered.

"It's not often that one receives a request from one of the eight. How might I ..." She caught her next words, changing them from what she might have said once upon a time while she was still a part of the Empire. "Be of assistance?" So often it had been how could she serve as all served the Empire, but did not any longer. And like all good mercenaries her assistance came at a price.
 
The Seventh regarded his opponent from behind his mask and gestured to the board in front of him and not wishing to waste good time he began to move the pieces on his side back to their starting positions, indicating that he expected Moina to do the same.

There was no work to do yet. This was leisure.

Using his cant of hand gestures he communicated that he should like Moina to play, and that The Fourth was pleased to work with her before.
When one of the First and Last took note of someone then so did the others.

In his own way he was inspecting her, judging her character. That almost slip of her tongue was not unnoticed by him but he let it slide. Control was a constant strain and the habits of a lifetime not easily broken. The fact that she had caught herself meant she knew better and was seeking improvement, a worthy endeavour for all.
It was a new era and he did not fault others for the marks on their past, he'd be quite the hypocrite if he did.

Lazily he poured water for them both and pushed the bowel of dates towards her.

It would not be said that he was an graceless host.
 
Through a series of gestures that she was only able to partially understand. Moina took the seat in front of him and begun to sort the stones into their correct locations to start the game. As she was finishing prepping her side of the board, he reached out to fill both their glasses. Simple water. Nothing wrong with that, but just important to note. As much as he was observing her, she too was observing back.

In her experiences so far, each of the First and the Last seemed to have a different strength. The Sixth was a strong leader and an equally strong combatant with the sword. The Fourth had been more stealth, a silent shadow that had left their enemies in terror. So what was it that made the Seventh stand out among a group of the best mercenaries in Crorefell. She hoped to learn that answer tonight. She knew nothing was as simple as just a game.

Moina picked up the cup, bringing it to her mouth and sipped. Perhaps a bit to trusting to not check it first, but she was fairly confident that she hadn't offended the First and the Last that poison should be a concern. This meeting defiantly felt like a test, but she didn't expect it was that kind. The dates she left for now.

"Would you like the first move?" She asked waving a hand at the board.
 
With a soft inclination of the head The Seventh accepted Moina's invitation to go first.

He studied the board, neat and calm before the violence of their contest. Then, with a very certain movement he picked up a piece and moved it forward into the next segment, a classic opener and aggressive in its utility as it forbids a few other pieces from using the centre segment.

When it was done he leaned back and let his guest take their time as he reached for his own cup and with a practiced grace tilted it up to pour gently into the slit of his masks mouth, not spilling a drop, though he still wiped the iron mask when he was done with a kerchief.

It did not escape him either that she took the water without checking for poison or indeed anything else. He was half certain that if The Fourth had spoken of him then his proclivity for poison would have made it into the conversation, if for no other reason than it was one of the few things the others did know about him.

Perhaps she was testing him, showing off her courage in the face of one so dangerous.

Putting her head into the jaws of the crocodile.

@Moina Iasis
 
Moina observed his initial move. An aggressive start, but was it something that spoke to his actual play style or a faint to lure her into thinking that he was an aggressive player. Only time would tell. She was a more conservative player to start. Defensive as she prepared for the larger moves. She pulled a stone from her pile and placed it in the second segment close to her side to begin building the defenses that would hold him from being able to truly move pieces off the board.

She sat back in her seat as she waited for his next move, arms crossed, her chin resting on her hand as her finger tapped at her lips. The first part of the game, the first few moves were always swifter as the strategy was built and started. By move five or six, an opponents game became more observable. The truly great players able to hide their ultimate strategy by sacrificing ground and luring their opponent into moves. What kind of player would the Seventh choose to be?
 
Defensive plays were nothing to be ignored, they spoke of patience which was needed in life and in death.

But The Seventh had already decided on his move and quickly after Moina placed her piece he slid one of his rearmost pieces to the very edge corner of his side. From there it could move undeterred to the neighbouring segments. A move designed to draw attention and divide focus.

After he had made his move he took a date from the bowel and delicately squeezed out the pip before sliding the flesh under his mask to eat quietly.

Outwardly he gave no sign of anything. No sound or indication of body language, of being pleased or displeased, interested or bored.
The large man simply was and continued to be so.

@Moina Iasis
 
Moina was ready. She knew exactly where she wanted to move her next piece, but she took her time both to observe the board and her opponent as her fingers played with the stones in her zone.

Her eyes follow his fingers as he grasps a date from the bowl eating the fruit with care despite the mask that might have been an impediment to what most might see a simple task.

Her fingers selected the next piece, moving it in a mirror to that of the Seventh. Going for the opening start pattern of a V both defensive and offensive, it could allow her pieces to push into his territory in the right circumstances, but also narrowed down his options for the offensive as well. The rules of the pieces and their proximity to each other making choices limited.
 
Now a more aggressive play came from Moina and The Seventh took in the new state of the game.
A very wise philosopher once said that no plan survives first contact with the enemy and in the meaning that the flow of all conflict was more about adaptability than rigidness.

His strategies liked to try and reflect this and so it was after a long moments thought that he moved a third piece up to meet the first, near the centre of the board.

Claiming that would be crucial in the stages to come and he still had the piece circumventing as she had.
With a gesture he signed *appreciation* to her.
This game was shaping up to be a fun distraction.

@Moina Iasis
 
She looked at him at the gesture, her head tilting to the side as she studied him. In another circumstance, she might have used facial expressions in order to interpret the meaning of the hand motions, but with his mask that was impossible. For all she knew, the gesture could have been an entirely rude suggestion about the origins of her mother. Though she strongly doubted that, as she would have also expected that kind of gesture to be more meaningful, perhaps firmer in it's motion. This one had been almost . . . gentle in a way.

"I am afraid I must apologize. I don't quite know the meaning of your motions." She said with an apologetic bow of the head. Hoping there was no offense taken. Her fingers reached out, taking another piece from her cup and placing into the other corner nearest to her side, forming a bit of an offensive triangle now on the board. They were getting to the point of the match where readjusting the deployments of pieces would be just as strategic as the placing of them. Sacrifices made in order to advance.​
 
The Seventh took his time replying, absorbed peacefully by the game they played and contemplating his next move.

Still it was clear that his particular offhand, if you could pardon the pun, gesture was not as easily understood as he had hoped so he decided to sit up and communicate with both his hands.
He signed that he was glad that she had come and that he was enjoying the game greatly. The common signs were simple enough but among his compatriots he had been used to one handed motions, jokingly referred to as "shorthand".

Once done he took another drink of cool water and got back to the game.
Things were getting good. Moina's triangle of action was a solid play, structured to defend as well as attack. His own was another advance, along the side, far as he could in the segment.
He was trying to box her in, keep more pieces from joining that corner.

The strategy was aggressive she could try to force him back or remove his piece from the board but taking it would leave her open to a counter movement from the center board.

The metal face looked at her and he waited, giving nothing.

@Moina Iasis
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top Bottom