A Question for Eternity: a Sorcerously Advanced Quest of New Immortals Seeking Purpose

Natures
Communion 3
Mystery 3

Core Values
Maintain An Orderly Library 4

Expertise
Scholar (Astromancy) 3
Librarian 3

Note: Servitors, animals, etc will often have pretty short character sheets compared to other magi.

Just a little more detail on Conflicts (and gonna make an Informational for this so its easily findable again). When Conflicts do occur they aren't really a binary win vs lose state. Outside of the cases where you trounce or are absolutely trounced by someone due to a massive margin you're looking at a potential give and take that'll occur narratively. Where you can gain an Advantage (or make a Complication for that NPC) and vice versa. This is also where you all will be able to spend points of Reserve (if desired) to escalate (or de-escalate) a Conflict to thus increase or minimize the consequences taken afterwards. Below I'm going to post a bit of a breakdown what that'll look like.

To determine the degree of victory from a Conflict, we're taking the difference between the Winner's total and the Loser's and comparing it against the Loser's value. From there you reference the chart.

If the difference is Less Than 10%: It's a stalemate and both sides suffer a Minor Complication (or Advantage, always or. I'm just not gonna endlessly write it out for ease of reading).
Less Than 50%: Narrow Victory. The winner suffers a Minor and the loser suffers a Moderate Complication.
Less Than x2: Decisive Victory. Winner takes a Minor, and loser suffers a Major Complication.
Less Than x3: Crushing. Winner takes a Trivial Complication (very very tiny), and the loser suffers a Critical Complication.
x3 or more: No Contest. Loser is completely at winner's mercy and takes a Critical Complication. Winner is unharmed.

to use the moment when you beat Insight super badly: He had net a 2 and Tibia net a 28. That's a difference of 26 which is way over three times a value of 2. Anyways, hopefully this will help you all better understand the Conflict system being used and make good informed decisions.

Note: I'm really not trying to impact the vote, just realized that I haven't really explained Conflicts as a system all to well and want to make sure the information is here going forward.

So the grades of Complications/Advantages. There are five grades: Trivial, Minor, Moderate, Major, and Critical. Below is a short description of what you could like, expect from each.

Trivial: These are really small things that could be built up later. Think someone getting annoyed or distracted. Someone losing track of a single person in a crowd. Etc.

Minor: These are short-term, low-impact, and generally involve getting skeletal information (as in the important bits but not all the details). This could be a getaway from a fight, delaying or accelerating plans, having a location of yourself or an enemy revealed. Geting pointed toward the next piece of a puzzle or mystery. Minor injuries.

Moderate: These are long-term or high-impact or involve accurate information. Think dramatic shit like kidnappings, making it so someone is unable to access a Nature or Profession, reducing or increasing a Core Value, could be something as dramatic as befriending an enemy,e tc. Substantial injuries. Plans significantly delayed or accelerated.

Major: These are the same as Moderate, but turn those OR's into AND's. You could have lose (or cause someone to lose) access to several Natures and Professions. Could outright change a Core Value or Core Expression of theirs. Convince someone completely of a falsehood. Have important secrets revealed. Make them turn away from their allies/lose friends. Severe injury. Lose a Resource forever.

Critical: Death and fates worse than death live here. Though, outside of death, this is where someone could have all their Core Values changed from sheer intensity of the Conflict. You could make them unable to exercise any of their Natures or Professions. Get them full on exiled from their homeland. Extensive brainwashing. Reverse or gain long-term allegiances. Ruin plans or make them come to fruition immediately.

Anyways, this is kind of the scope. Like I did with the last Conflict, you all would get to vote on the exact nature of all the Complications/Advantages that'd occur. But in general, were you to lose, a Moderate complication could be somewhat intense though you all could always vote that the Librarian takes an Advantage for herself which could send things in a different direction albeit with a long-term cost to be resolved later outside the immediacy of the situation. Bluntly tho, a Minor would be enough to still make it to the Orrery (tho not consequence free).

Also, if you all choose the Conflict path, I'd remind that you all can spend some of your Reserve to Escalate or De-Escalate the problem thus minimizing the whole affair to a degree (or making it more intense).

Hope this explanation is useful, sorry again for not fully explaining how some of this works. (First time QM and all). Trying to do better about this.

Tibia squeezed her eyes shut, took a deep breath, and opened them to meet the just slightly translucent face of the Librarian. She searched the servitor's face for any sign of give or understanding, but instead found only the resolution of a person who knew their purpose and would defend it no matter what. Still, Tibia clutched the Guardian's hand and found her feet in recognition that she had her own purpose to attend.

"Librarian, I understand that right now this place, the Observatory, the library, is in chaos. I can hear the buzzing of the automata to drag books out from beneath corpses." Tibia tilted her head toward a re-shelving unit that had just slipped in a pool of blood. "There are books that may be ruined. In times like these I'm reminded of many patients I've had, and when life is so turned upside down like this then they try to cling to whatever understanding of order they possess even if it'd be counter to receiving proper care."

The Librarian scoffed, "Proper care comes from maintenance. Adherence. A structure put down that is as flexible as it is enduring. You may speak of the health of a person, but I speak for an institution for whom I have supported for millennia. What you know can not compare to me."

"Maybe not in time, but what you know is the stewardship of a system unused to chaos as a habitual constant state. In these times of emergency one has to take drastic actions unlike what they'd take in moments of tranquility. When someone is poisoned it is often the administration of a counter-agent, a poison in and of itself, that can provide the cure!" Tibia said.

"Yes, but those counter-agents were implemented upon rigorous testing supported often by decades if not centuries of conventional wisdom and data."

Tibia stepped forward to loom above the Librarian. "Yet there was always someone who made the first discovery, took the first risk, who stepped beyond that which was known and accepted to form the foundation of the new. Transgression leads to convention. Holding to convention for its sake alone only creates stagnancy which in turn leads to death."

The Librarian prodded Tibia in the chest. "You would have me drink poison in the hopes of it being some counter-agent? An easy thing to advocate for the poison itself. You'd not suffer were you to run haphazardly through this very body."

Thus they found themselves at a stalemate again. Their rhetoric each sharp and probing, but neither were able to set the decisive stroke.

Tibia said, "I don't deny I'm the poison. I don't deny I have little at risk, save the life and limb I've already endangered. But if that's not enough then please, tell me what you need so that you'll at least take a sip so I can help you."

She turned away from Tibia and racked her mind. Her eyes returned to the many readers already slain. What was a library without readership, and what was she without the library? Her semi-spectral hand collided with the desk as she felt her resolution give just enough, and the blade of Tibia's argument struck home with unparalleled gentleness. The Librarian turned back to Tibia, face softened, and was ready to negotiate.

Choose what happens to Tibia:
[ ] "Relinquish the Guardian's hand…" (Complication for Tibia, she loses the hand but can go free.)
[ ] "If not the hand, then leave a segment of your soul." (Complication for Tibia, she loses a portion of her Soul. For the portion lost, you'll heal slower from injury.)
[ ] "Swear an Oath that after this ends you'll return here the following day." (Complication for Tibia, this will pre-set your daytime action for Day 3 for the Observatory library.)
[ ] "Take Seventy-Five with you." (Advantage for Librarian, she'll have a re-shelving unit follow you so she can observe your actions. If you over-step then security automata can be called directly to your position. Subtle benefit, won't instantly call security automata on you.)

Choose what happens to the Librarian:
[ ] "Just clear the way for me." (Complication for Librarian, she will access an override to turn off the Security Automata between here and the entire Central Tower. No more risk of them coming after you.)
[ ] "Help me do my work faster." (Complication for the Librarian, she reveals a secret method to reach the Orrery much faster and with little risk.)
[ ] "You don't have to help me, but at least hurt them." (Advantage for Tibia, the Librarian revokes whatever access the thing that tore through the library had. All security automata are being redirected onto their position injuring them substantially. Note: This won't prevent Security Automata from going after you draw their attention.)
[ ] "Tell me what I'm dealing with." (Advantage for Tibia, the Librarian gives you about a dossier's worth of information on what is happening and what you might need to do to prepare yourself.)

**AN: Like I said in an earlier post, I'm posting up the first chunk of the chapter here so you all can decide how the complications or advantages will play out. Like last Conflict, I'll post the math and mechanics behind this one. The short of it is tho, it was a narrow win so you both have to give (some more than others). Anyways, vote for this will be like two days give or take, so get votes in by Tuesday 3PM PST.

Before the conflict mechanics, here's a fun tidbit about one of the options here. An Oath. The big deal about these is its an Expression that you could consider somewhat universal. When done the person taking the oath will agree to undertake some task, uphold something, etc. (ya know, oath shit) and agree upon the consequence to befall them if they break the Oath. Fun thing about Oaths though is that if you break it, but also try to resist accepting the consequence then you do a big fuckwucky to your soul resulting in Disconnection from Self. This sort of thing has come up before in the story, and lets just say that while Disconnection can come with massive upsides it also is subjecting yourself to a tremendous amount of metaphysical trauma so to speak. Since you'd be losing a critical facet of how your spirit can even interface with reality. Still, provided you hold up your end of the Oath or just take the consequences like a big mage, you don't have too much to worry about.

"I want you to take Seventy-Five with you," The Librarian said.

Tibia's brow rose in confusion at the statement. "I don't know if I can take a person with me on this mission. The risk is far too high."

The Librarian waved Tibia's concern from the air. "Seventy-Five isn't a person. He's one of the finest re-shelving automata within the fleet."

One of the automata scuttled forward away from the mass of them that had played audience to Tibia and the Librarian's discussion. The small automaton reared up on its back legs to wave the forelegs up toward Tibia who sheepishly returned the gesture. At the command of the Librarian's nod, Seventy-Five zipped forward to clamber up Tibia's leg to her back. It's steps were light and despite the thin metal legs they didn't hurt as it climbed her. Rather it felt no different than someone gently tapped by a pen in different parts of their body.

"I can't leave the Library unmanned to follow you, but Seventy-Five can," the Librarian said. She then floated off toward the bookshelves, the fleet of automatons parting to make way. Tibia hustled after her.

"With Seventy-Five I can monitor your entire progress and make sure that you, my stubborn poison, don't stray from your purpose and cause harm. Which, as a fun side-effect, will also allow me to direct the security automata to your precise location in such an event."

Tibia rubbed the back of her neck as they walked. The two of them hustled down aisles, took sharp turns into new sections, and soon Tibia couldn't even see the Information Desk where she had met the Librarian. They were in the deep stacks of the Library and gone were sensible shelves in place of cyclopean walls decked with books while the canopy of catwalks stretched beyond even those higher levels like the web of some gargantuan bibliophilic spider.

"Fair enough. In turn I'd appreciate it if you could actually help me in getting this job done faster than I could otherwise. It'd minimize the time I'd be left to my own devices, a thing you surely could appreciate." Tibia said.

The two of them took another turn to arrive at a seemingly dead end. The Librarian floated over to the shelf and her arms vibrated before they split entirely. Phantom limbs of already phantasmal limbs fractaling out, and with these many appendages she grasped a series of books.

"That's what I'm doing," she said before she pulled them free.

A dry sucking noise slid into the air as the bookshelf split in half to open like a pair of double doors. Once they had splayed the pathway left hidden the sucking noise transitioned to a low baritone drone that belonged to the inhalation of a slumbering titan. The now revealed path stretched on into a misty distance, but from beyond its threshold even Tibia could make out that the floor, the walls, and—after she knelt down a bit—the ceiling were made from one massive bookshelf.

"What the hell is this?" Tibia asked.

"It's the way you'll make it to the Orrery before that monster." The Librarian gestured down the path, "You see, the libraries within the Celestial Observatory are far grander than conventional space should dictate room for."

"I hardly noticed," Tibia muttered.

"A consequence of so much knowledge needing to be stored," the Librarian preened. "As such, beyond the means of conventional spatial expansion the predecessors who ran the Celestial Observatory saw fit to stitch the different libraries together making us, in fact, one grand library. Wherein my sister librarians simply manage our various domains. Still, on occasion one needs to reach another library in a matter of minutes rather than the hours and sometimes days it would take to physically reach the area under one's own power. Thus the creation of the Book Tube. While passing through it you shall be converted, ever so slightly, into knowledge itself permitting you to travel at the speed with which knowledge transmits itself allowing you to arrive at the small research library within the Orrery."

Tibia nodded at the explanation even as much of it was beyond her. The connection she had deepened with Industry was still new, and artifice of this level spoke to a much higher level of mastery. All the same she could at least appreciate the magnificent theurgy at work. She stepped forward and crossed the threshold of the tunnel. Upon doing so she was beset by all manner of tidbits and factoids.

"If the Shell Game points to a repurposement of aspected Flow could this mean we might propagate—"

"Despite all appearances the Worlds Beyond bare only one access point to the Travel—"

"Dragons, like other magical beings, seem to possess Traditions whose paths center upon their—"

Tibia stumbled back over the threshold quieting the voices. "What the hells was that?"

The Librarian reflected her look of confusion. "The books. Did you not hear me? The Book Tube is an area highly concentrated in Knowledge Flow. You will be transitioning into that very state partially anyways. It'd be strange if you didn't hear the books. Hmm, perhaps a consequence of a highly developed Sixth Sense…" the Librarian said as she began to trail off.

"I did hear you, but is it safe?"

The Librarian chuckled. "As safe as most of the Celestial Observatory. After many improvements odds are very low that anything bad would happen. Just, don't stay too long or you might be turned into a book."

She shoved Tibia back past the Book Tube's threshold. Tibia whirled around upon her final statement, but the bookshelf doors had already shuttered the window of her escape. Tibia turned back toward the path and sucked in a breath.

"Fuck!" she roared out. This had become way too much for just a random day. She had known she was joining what amounted to be a cult, but facing off against automatons, dealing with cyclopean libraries, and still not quite knowing whatever she was meant to face at the Orrery. All of the rapid re-shaping of her expectations finally pounded down upon her. Though at the same time there was a small but bright ember at the pit of her being that felt fanned into life at it all. She had sleep walked through life for awhile now, and while she had never been an overwhelmingly adventurous child she had fantasized about what her immortal life would be. Every child did and for most Sovereign children their life was going to be one of hedonistic bliss where they were waited upon by demons and felt rarely pushed to reach higher heights of magic. That wasn't the sort of immortal life though that inspired children to push on to develop their own immortality. What inspired them were stories of adventure and discovery, of ancient halls filled with lore, and battles against evil fiends for the safety of all. The kind of story that she found herself in right now.

Tibia lifted up her head. She rolled her shoulders back and swung her arms. Braced herself against the wall and listened. Her Sixth Sense sung of paper fluttering in a student's hands. Of quills weeping tight tears of ink onto an empty sheet. It sung of knowing and of memory immortalized for those to learn from the enlightenments and follies of others. Tibia knew in that small burning ember in her stomach was the seed of a bonfire to be born. Of a her that sought to burn bright and lead the way to a new way of being. It would mean a journey into the unknown, and while a bit too literal for her this was as good a time as any. So once again, for the second time in this strange and ancient place, Tibia ran for her life.

Her arms pumped up and down while her legs swung. She raced so fast that titles blurred and felt her new muscles squeeze and pump in absolute joy at being exerted. The wish from the hydra had fashioned her into something new, and right now she was ready to chase after that new. Even if it meant challenge after challenge. Tibia would keep on changing, and if she was to become a book she'd leave behind a damn good one!

As she ran she felt the change ripple over her body. Words lifted up off her body like the curling smoke of a candle. The deeper in she ran the more that wispy smoke extended into long streamers that fluttered and curled behind her. She could hardly make out the words that were "written" as consequence of such a Flow dense place, but she could feel them. They were phrases she had said or were said to her. Descriptions of her thoughts writ manifest like the tail of a comet. They were the summations of her and with each one she was reminded of the her that had come before. The feeling all together tickled at the skin even though it was no doubt akin to her being digested into a potential tome to line the shelves. Still, she was confident that her sense of Self, the nature which was the bedrock for her immortality, was stable.

While Tibia was right in this assertion, the stability of herself meant nothing to the stability of her own mind. Since the, "oh so hungry," Book Tube had curled something deep within herself around its fork and dislodged it from its hiding spot.

She was small. So small. No, she was a child and they almost always were small. Her eyes roamed left and right revealing to her the near infinite expanse of sky that she found herself within. Below her the Basin looked like one of the paintings that adorned the villa. A canvas of color blocked smears lathered down by palette knife or trickled down into between globs of paint. Why was she in the sky?

Children received access to the bounties of the Gift in a patient manner, no doubt due to Aion's foresight. It meant that children received Sovereignty first which sundered all attempts at mind control, and inspired the name of her people. Afterwards came the True Speech which was acquired like all language is acquired. Oftentimes enabling children to communicate to their parents with absolute clarity as babies even if the babies themselves didn't just yet parse all the concepts directed at them. Still, the capability of flight was something that came far far later into someone's study of magic. Let alone the fact that powerful things made their home amidst the sky and would hardly balk at obliterating some wandering sky child. So once again, why was she in the sky?

She looked up and saw a great broad plate of armor that held within itself the warmth of a star-filled sky. In this the metaphor was largely literal as within the dark metal she could swear she saw lights twinkle and shoot by. Her eyes finally then noticed that she was held aloft by her arms. Whoever this figure was held her by her arms without hurting her despite the shackle-tight grip they maintained. Even farther out she beheld another set of arms. Great, she was being flown by some four-armed armored stranger. What was happening?

Tibia stumbled and rolled across the inconsistent ground. She glanced backward to see that a book hung dangerously free from its shelf.

"If you can't put it back just leave it for the re-shelving unit, I swear."

She pushed back to her feet and took off once more. While she was knocked free from the thoughtless state that had propelled her she was confident that—

She released the smooth stone that she spent a solid five minutes searching for. Five minutes was a lot of time for a four-year-old to be committed to such a task. Still, she was a thorough four-year-old. An older, more distant part of her puzzled at that, she was four here?
The rock skimmed across the lake's surface the same way her mother would plant kisses on her face. A spot here, a spot there, in a treasure trail to her forehead from her cheek. It always made her giggle. Still, mom didn't know anything about skipping rocks. That was for XXXXXXXXX and she couldn't wait to show them.

She raced away from her spot on the lakeshore and ascended the hill that arched up behind her. It was so steep that she resorted to her hands in knees like when she'd climb the stairs back home. Of course the home would cheat and flip the stairs down so she'd slide back to the bottom, but that was always half the fun. When she finally made her way to the top of the hill she noticed that her breath had begun to fog in front of her.

"Mommy!" She raced past the few trees toward the campsite and found mommy standing across the campsite in front of XXXXXXXXX. They stood there solid and tall as a tree. A bright red band ringed their helmet with spikes extending out from it like rays of a sun. From beneath this crown were molten tears that flowed down its face and dripped upon the campsite. The older part of Tibia didn't know why this figure inspired such fierce love, but they did. The younger part of herself, the present part, focused on the fact that for some reason mommy held her scary bell, the one she said never to play with and usually kept in a drawer.

"Give her back," mommy growled in the voice she'd use when Tibia wouldn't listen.

The armored person shook their head. "Moth, I'd be going against every one of my virtues were I to let her grow up in such a place." Their voice was calm and melodic. Sort of singsong in nature.

"Again we come to your silly piddly little virtues. What about the virtue of being here for your family, of not trying to steal Tibia away like some thief in the night, of doing more than sending me a fucking Farspeech message before you're halfway to heaven!"

Moth raised her bell. "Don't think I won't cut you down to take her back."

XXXXXXXXX clasped their hands together in supplication.

"For all the love that we had, please don't make me fight you."

Moth gave a sickened smile. "I don't fight those I love, but those I used to love, well…" she rang the bell and brought on the cold.

From out of nothing appeared twelve devils with rime-blue skin that peaked into glacial thorns. In their hands they swung great blue swords of pure elemental ice. While glacial was their appearance it was hardly their speed as they flew forward in blue streaks toward their armored foe.

Responding just as quickly, the upper arms of the armored figure split down the middle from between their fingers to the middle of their arm. A red "string," if something which burnt so hot that it burned vision itself could be called a string, stretched from pinkie to thumb. Their other hands were quick to pluck the strings with the familiarity of a zither player. From each pluck a four-foot arrow of red-hot radiance manifested and was launched. The arrow's path was hard to track as light melted around its passage, but the consequence was easy. They obliterated each devil they struck. The weight of ontological heat met ontological cold and cold was found wanting.

From the armored figure's back stretched six wings of ruby light that carried them up into the air. They spiraled about to shoot down each and every devil that chased them up into the sky. In the span of two seconds the entire battalion was shot down. Framed by the blazing sun, XXXXXXXXX leveled their crossbow arms at mommy.

"Moth, stand down!"

"I'm a Sovereign woman just like Tibia, and we don't let anyone command us!" Moth roared. She swung her bell with full force and intent to crush the figure out of the sky.

"Xenelli the Stagnancy, Goddess of the Glacial Wastes I command that you open the way and let this fucker freeze!"

As the bell tolled its chime shuddered in the air before it froze into one eternal note. Where sound would echo what instead raced along the wind was the frigid breath of the Glacial Wastes. Ice raced across the ground, choked out the trees, and stilled the world. XXXXXXXXX plummeted from the sky as their wings dissipated into a thousand thousand feathers of crimson light. They shattered the newly-made permafrost of the campsite. Their body half-buried in a crater. With their four arms they dragged themselves out from the dirt and rose stumbling.

"I always hated your wings," Moth said. She rang the bell once more and the Battalion rose to attend to their commander. They raced forward to bring on the end. While the armored figure's lower arms plunged into the upper ones and removed from the Red Space a shield and a thick bellied saber. Their head held high they raced forward to meet the Battalion. They ducked, dove, and wove between the blades that would be their end if a single one even nicked them. Yet, all their movements were confident and bold. They dove between a high and low swing only to strike out at the demons in passing. They parried one sword into another devil only to whirl around them and behead a fourth. In the handful of seconds that had transpired—as it had only been five—Tibia had realized that what existed in front of her was a lecture given motion on War at its highest level.

The her that was present though had no conception of what was happening. She hadn't yet learned that both of these two were immortal and even death would struggle to hold tight to them. So when she noticed a demon soldier dash out at the opening it saw in the figure's back she couldn't help but intervene.

"Look out!" she yelled with all the force her tiny voice could carry. It drew mommy's gaze whose eyes widened in terror. Why was her baby at a battlefield? While the armored figure turned in time to parry the sword only for it to go wide and fly directly at her. Tibia erected a pitiful defense by curling into a ball with her arms over her head. She didn't know what would happen, but she had pricked her hand once on a rose's thorns. The swords she imagined were like getting pricked with a really big thorn. So as she huddled waiting to be stung. . . it never came.

She lifted her head and saw that looming above her was XXXXXXXXX. Her eyes drifted downward to spot the blade which had pierced their back and burst from their chest as if they were jumping out at a surprise party. The person took their hand and tilted her head back up. She heard a sizzle as the helmet and the crown split in half and opened up a bit like a book. Within was a smiling androgynous face.

Their skin and hair were white like hot metal with a radiated hue of reds and oranges. At some point she figured mommy had undone whatever had made it so cold because she felt a breeze. It lifted up the person's hair to play with it. The long wavy locks undulated with each fresh gust. Their eyes were three, two where you'd expect and one that stood sideways in the center of their forehead. Each was wide and held only mirth and love. Even as tears flowed down their face. They had a strong aquiline nose. While their lips were thick, though not as plump as hers or mommies, but they sported a smile that never wavered.

With one of their hands they brushed away a tear from her face.

"Oh my beautiful daughter, don't cry. I won't be gone for long. Promise."

She nodded even as the older part of her screamed out a litany of questions. But neither the old her or the young her spoke as mommy raced over to pluck her up into her arms. She struggled in her mom's arms so she could take one last look at her parent.

"Be a good girl Tibia. Be someone honorable, humble, respectful, and dutiful," They said.

"I'll try," she replied.

"That's all you can do." They spoke to Moth, "Goodbye, my love."

Moth turned away from them and walked off. She held Tibia's head to her chest tight, but Tibia squirmed enough to look back just in time for the rest of the Battalion to land upon XXXXXXXXX. Their body arched as each blade found a resting place in their back. The cold worked from the wounds outward. So even as the chill spread through their body they had just enough time to rise to their feet so they might die standing with the sun at their back.

It was in this moment that she understood for the first time, at an age younger than many, the consequences of War. She felt as if a new wing had been opened in her soul. A sensation that for many would've been like meeting an old friend. Yet in this moment she only held rage for the thing in her that opened its arms as if it hadn't just stolen someone from them.

Mommy spoke to her softly, "We're gonna go my little chime. No, we'll find a new home just to be safe. It'll be somewhere pretty, maybe the mountains, and we'll build a grand villa there with gardens, a library, and so much more."

Tears flowed down her face as she asked, "Like grandma and grandpa?"

"Just like theirs."

The memories became a blur after that. She saw their home rip itself from the earth and take off into the skies, a behemoth awoken. She saw it land at their current residence and expand. She even saw when they were to move in and the gates opened with all the demonic staff presenting themselves to her and her mom. She even saw when one small demon with beautiful head-tendrils stepped forward and said her name was G'nartha. That she was to be her handmaiden. She saw as she entered that house with G'nartha and her mom holding her hands. When the door slammed shut so too came the memory.

This time Tibia didn't sprawl to the ground. She stumbled forward free from the memory and emerging from the face of a bookshelf into the Orrery, or at least the small library attached to it. Her breathing was shallow and ragged from her run and from revelation. She allowed herself a moment of transition as knowledge returned to flesh. In her mind she watched as the name she knew so well had a curtain draw across it to blind her to what it was.

"The Curtain Curse? Mom, what did you do?" she asked the still air. There was no answer. Her breath settled and Tibia rose to her feet. She had a job to see to, and if she survived she'd make sure to ask her mom about what happened all those years ago.

***AN: And we've arrived at the Orrery! So, because this section was so long I decided to split it into two parts. As such I'll be posting the next section in two days where we'll finally get to see what this Orrery is all about! Hope you enjoy folks~

Tibia rushed from the small library that held two full shelves and one half shelf embedded into the wall just above a writing desk. From here she hustled down a hallway that diverted off towards meeting rooms, small labs, and even a tiny kitchen. Her hurried pace slowed once she arrived at the central rotunda of the tower.

The rotunda was another space built to her ancestors' ostentatious sensibilities. Half of the room was dominated by great windows that reached from the floor to the bottom of the rotunda's dome. Through each you could see a whole section of the "sky" unimpeded by the rest of the Celestial Observatory buildings. Inlaid into the marble columns were designs of orichalcum hydra and magi in silver spiraling up toward a fresco of the heavens that spanned the dome's entirety. While the floor was made from a black marble that contrasted the pillars' white. Yet all paled in comparison to the golden wonder that dominated the room.

Levitating above a number of shadowed recesses in the floor, was a series of translucent star-blue spheres nested within one another. Across each one were a number of stars and constellations that all looked to be moving across its surface. Tibia stepped to the side a bit and saw that no, they weren't swimming, the spheres themselves were rotating. They were rotating around what looked to be a tiny bowl. She stepped back away from the whole display and accessed the Farspeech channel Guardian had established when they arrived.

"I take it you arrived at the Orrery?" he asked.

Tibia sent the mental equivalent of a nod. "Provided the Orrery is a big illusionary set of spheres then yes."

"Not an illusion. It's quite solid and exceedingly fragile. Now, we don't have much time so I need you to listen closely. First, head toward the double doors that lead to the stairs."

Tibia circled around the Orrery to follow the instructions. The doors were composed of both white and black marble in the same splotch-like pattern of her own skin.

"Next?" she asked.

"Conjure an extension of the walls to cover up the whole thing. The doors have all the common Wards but while those can be subverted you can't underestimate the value of thick walls to slow someone down. Provided they can't Spirit-Walk of course."

"Of course. Hope you don't mind a bit of demonic chitin dirtying up the place."

Tibia reached into her own bag and withdrew a piece of chalk. Working fast, she drafted up a series of formulae to define the dimensions and properties of the wall. From there she stepped back and let the Conjuration flow out of her. While she herself never worked with demons it was the nature of the Expression to call upon either the Canon of Forms local to the region or your personal Canon. In either model it worked by pulling the prototype for whatever the subject was and transforming Flow to matter. In a place like this which spoke to the wonder of creation and architectural expression, Tibia found herself hardly hurting in the appropriate aspects needed to conjure anything let alone something as simple as a wall. It took only moments for a four-foot thick slab of behemoth chitin to shoot up from her drawn formulae and cover the entirety of the doors. Were it not for the sudden shift in building materials anyone would be hard pressed to tell there was anything akin to a door there at all.

"I can feel your confidence," Guardian said. "Now for your next task. Place my hand upon the terminal. Should be a stele similar to the one in the lobby."

Sure enough, when Tibia turned back to the Orrery she spotted the floating stele. Though this one was unmarked by any platform. Rather, it was a pristine obsidian rectangle devoid of any over the top ornamentation. Tibia raised Guardian's hand and pressed it against the slate. Her Sixth Sense notified her of a change in the room before she saw it. The harmonious hum of airy celestial tones that dominated the background sound of the room sunk down below her threshold of notice. This shift led to a more pronounced change as the spheres at the center of the room seemed to dissolve six-inch thick rings. Their outer shells took on a silvery sheen that was more opaque than translucent while the interior held a rich night blue hue. In unison the slate and the rings then descended down into the floor. Each element slotted perfectly in the recessed space made for them which resulted in a smooth floor. The only remnant of what had been the central feature were three silver rings inlaid into the floor as well as a long black rectangle—previously the top of the slate.

"Done," Tibia reported. "How long do I have to stay here?"

"Ideally not for long. I was able to get control back over a majority of the security automata and secure the researchers. I'm on my way to your location now."

"That's great, but uh, whatever got free ran through the library and tore every magi to shreds on its way to the Orrery," Tibia said. "And I'm in the Orrery. What do I do if it gets here? Hells, what even is it?"

"It's just an aberrant star that's found a host. The danger they possess is minimal. . . usually."

Suddenly Tibia heard the sound of a thousand daggers drawn from hidden sheaths and the air-sucking cry of lungs filling with blood. Soon followed by the all too physical sound of sundered stone thundering to the ground. The reverberations of which laced through the floor below her and rumbled up her body. Tibia's eyes shot to the wall of chitin. There was silence.

"What about their host?"

Guardian was silent for a moment. "Those can vary. Still, hold on to my hand and I can Enchant you so you can draw upon my magic—"

That was when Tibia heard that horrendous sound once again through her Sixth Sense. A growing orchestration that boomed and bellowed the arrival of the inevitable, the failure of all things, ARMAGEDDON IN ITS PUREST FORM!

Tibia leapt out of the way of the chitin wall just in time for it all to be reduced to nothing. A beam of Destruction-aspected Flow cut through the wall, the space she had just been standing, and erased four pillars. There was nothing fancy to the technique. No special function to note it as a unique variant. It was an Energy Wave in its simplest form used for its simplest purpose, to render War into the ultimate weapon.

She scrambled to her feet and watched as a person entered through the hole that now existed. Her own vision not even obscured because the Energy Wave was so pure in its aspect that even dust was destroyed. What crossed into the room was a svelte man of five-foot two-inches dressed in a knee-length pleated skirt the color of cherry blossoms. Though the bottom hem was splattered crimson. Tibia was appalled when she saw that it was even dripping. The skirt's fibers unable to absorb any more blood. This stranger's top half was a tucked in shirt decorated in ruffles that peeked out from beneath the sweater they wore over the shirt. While a cherry blossom pink overcoat hung from their shoulders. The man's hair was cropped short and curly framing a heart-shaped russet-hued face.

Then Tibia heard it. She saw it. She saw it because it wanted her to. It wanted her to take pleasure in marveling at the face of Armageddon. A phantom arose behind the man and stretched up another five-feet. Cloaked in translucent robes whose sleeves were festooned with bells that hung from long gorgeous hems embroidered to resemble a cityscape on fire. The robes were layered one upon another creating the look of a shrine maiden dedicated to some horrible god. It's face was framed by a curtain of burning red hair. While it sported thin lips that stretched into a horrible rictus which revealed an array of sharp teeth. Its eyes rippled in an infinite number of colors. The size of them seemed to dominate its face, dominate space, dominate—

"Don't look at its eyes, Tibia!" Guardian screamed into every recess of her mind.

Like cold water dumped down the back of a shirt, her mind jolted back into place as she forced her gaze away from the horrible thing. The sleeves of her own robe were used as shutters to provide some sort of measly defense.

"Sovereignty will protect you from outright mind-control, but there are many alleys to reach a similar destination. Quickly, tell me what your Sixth Sense is describing," Guardian ordered.

Tibia tried to compose her thoughts but before she could speak she heard the drawn-dagger hiss. It crackled across the Farspeech channel. Anything Guardian tried to say lost to the channel's subordination.

"Now this isn't polite. Didn't you parents teach you not to whisper in front of company?"
The voice oozed across her mind before the channel snapped shut. Tibia risked a peek above her sleeve and saw the man hold a flower that radiated aspects of Treason and Sabotage. The plant wilted in his hand before the wind caught it.

"And there goes the last of my Blackknife Dahlias. Shame," the man and star said, their voices overlapped but dissonant in tone. His face looked forlorn before he locked eyes on Tibia.

"Well then, shall we get on to our bout? Assume whatever ascendant form you need, draw your most sacred treasures, and let us rend each other asunder."

Tibia shook her head, "I don't think I will."

"Really? While I know I bested but a wall I still am not some mewling clump of stardust you might dismiss."

"Oh, I know. I promise, no disrespect intended, but well, I'm hardly your match in War. Maybe we can have a spirited debate—"

"War? Child, what mage are you as to call the facet of your soul something so measly as War. I speak of Dominion. The taking of territory, the subjugation of people, and yes, war."

Tibia shrugged at his statement. "Well, we haven't called it Dominion in like four-hundred years."

The man paused at that. His mouth opened. It closed again. He wrapped his arms around his person. Shook his head. "No, no, this can't be. I've been gone for four-hundred years?"

Tibia didn't know what to say. So she told the truth.

"At least."

"At least!" the man screamed at her. Waves of Doubt and Terror-aspected Flow emanated from him. The intensity of his own revelations aspecting the area around him.
"What's become of the Basin?"

Tibia weighed the pros and cons of explaining things to him. On the one hand she didn't want to arm this aberrant star with any new knowledge of the outside world. She had no idea what could enable a growth of his abilities. On the other hand, she didn't know when Guardian would arrive, and even trying to re-establish the Farspeech channel would be obvious. Making the star more dangerous would be bad, but dying before help arrived was worse in her book. She still had a wedding to attend later this evening, and wasn't sure that Viper would take death as an excuse.

"Well, four-hundred years ago the Great God Aion bestowed upon us the Gift. It granted everyone the ability to do magic," Tibia explained. "It had other benefits too, like making us eventually become immortal. As well as breaking all mind-control from ever working again."

"Heh. Hah. Hahaha," the man fell into a fit of laughter. "No wonder you all call it War then. The high arts of Dominion lost to history. Then with everyone capable of magic it'd be even harder for one to carve out territory for themselves let alone hold it."

"You pretty much described the Interregnum in one."

"The what?"

"Well, the period where armageddon was a daily occurrence. . ." Tibia trailed off when she noticed her words. The definition of the Interregnum had become so casual to her. She noticed the man staring at her with wonder in his eyes like that of a child observing its first sunrise.

"Sounds magical. So much built and lost and built anew. Power thrown against power. The very word, Interregnum, gushes in my mouth. Ripe and wet with the juices of Armageddon," the man purred. He waved a hand in the air. "Child, you scared me for a moment, but it seems the world isn't so different after all. Yet, if so much time has passed then it makes sense the Guard Dog has placed a no-name mage to protect the Stairway to Heaven."

Tibia snorted, "I'm hardly a no-name mage."

"Child, your War is pitiful. I've seen embercats more dangerous than you. I doubt you've conducted nary a rite or formulated an Expression of your own."

"I have too conducted a rite. I made one yesterday to cure Soul-Scars!" Tibia retorted.

The man held up his hands in mock apology. "I've never heard of them, but they sound absolutely wonderful. Now, be a darling little priestess and raise the Stairway."

"If you want people to do what you want, maybe at least tell them your name."

The man cocked a hand on his hip. "Why of course. You might call me Nation Slayer the Great Star of Armageddon. Destroyer of nations, sunderer of states, etcetera etcetera."

Tibia nodded in acknowledgement. It explained the sound he gave off to her Sixth Sense.

"And why are you calling it a Stairway? This is where the Orrery is. Maybe you have a different Wonderwork in mind?"

Nation Slayer shook his head in disappointment once more. "Really, what are they teaching you children? The Orrery is no more a Wonderwork than a page is a book. The Orrery is a control mechanism that allows one to manipulate the entirety of the Well of Stars so our studious little quill-scratchers here might observe any heavenly body they desire at any time. However, its most important function is to raise the Stairway to Heaven and activate the entanglement protocols between the Well of Stars and the sky itself."

Nation Slayer sashayed to one of the ruined columns and propped himself against it. His gaze tilted toward the "sky" of this world.

"Through it, the great magi that built this Wonderwork we stand in were able to add and remove stars from the sky as seamstress handles the pins of her cushion."

"I thought the stars were the wishes of Aion?"

Nation Slayer wobbled a hand in her direction. "Maybe my cousins were, the rulers of the heavens and the highest members of their courts are no doubt old enough. Most of those stars you see, the constellations whose misadventures you were raised upon, were fashioned by magi whose skill and knowledge led them to the lofty domains of gods."

Nation Slayer glanced her way derisively. "They make your modern magic look like the tricks of a slave."

"I'm no slave," Tibia barked.

Nation Slayer raised fingers to count, "You don't dare meet my true gaze. You're unable to wield the higher powers of Domin— I mean, War, likely from some sort of fear. Which in turn leaves you unable to defend anything you hold dear. Why, you even wince away from my every, motion!"

Nation Slayer made as if to lunge at Tibia who rapidly stumbled backward. Her face bloomed with the warm tones of shame.

"Yes, not a slave, but you have the mindset of one. Just a question to whose tune you dance."

A flash of her mother's face filled her mind. Tibia shoved it back down and called up her anger.

"I dance to no one's tune. In the face of my people's Tradition of dominance and enslavement I said no and have built my immortality on a different path. I am the dictator of my soul, and were I to face even my own mother I wouldn't let her sway my path." Tibia declared.

She hardly noticed that old chestnut of Sovereign philosophy which filtered into her speech. "The Dictator of her soul," the phrase that hid behind the inscription above every home, Every Soul A Fortress.

Nation Slayer assumed a bemused look at her little tantrum.
"Really now? My host tells me that the people no longer practice the Measurement of Heaven. He says you engage in, what do you call it, Devilpower. Hmph, no wonder you spurn it. While you have a slave's mindset at least you know better than to peacock about with power that's barely yours. In fact, something tells me you and I have more in common than you think."

"We do?" Tibia asked, the surprise cutting through her indignation.

Nation Slayer smiled. "Of course, you practice a different path than that of enslavement and they call you a deviant. While I simply served my function as the shears to wielded in the hands of Fate."

"You call armageddon a matter of fate?"

"What else would it be? All things end and they end in proportion to their grandeur. The ending of a magicless mortal is something small and intimate. The end of a mage is something larger, more pronounced as they reach and claw for more time. I can only imagine the end of an immortal, as I knew few, is something of the highest tragedy. An infinity cut down to the measurably finite. What then is the scale of a city's death, of a nation's of an empire?"

The pride Nation Slayer felt couldn't help but be roused in his speech.

"Such is the duty of Armageddon. To honor the grandeur and life of those entities which live without a body yet their flailing and struggle to avoid the end reshapes everything. I am the end for those things, and in my wake I leave room for a thousand possible futures to take hold. I clear the way to possibility."

She knew she should be appalled at the way Nation Slayer spoke about this. The end of nations were covered by her tutors and her mentor. They were disgusting things all too fast and too slow. A state brought to a sickening low where it cared for no one, but had enough might to still crush everyone that tried to hasten its end. Yet, they still ended, and it was true that in the wake of every fallen state the future opened for countless other ones to rise and be better. She couldn't even remember how many states had to fall, both nascent and old, for the Sovereigns to finally throw off the yoke of Hell.

"If you were just doing your job then why were you declared to be Aberrant?" Tibia asked.

Nation Slayer sighed before an impish grin brings the dimples of his face to prominence.

"I bring an end to things, all things, and in their hubris my creators forgot that fact. And then my light shined upon them."

Tibia's face fell. "What?"

"Ironic, isn't. I brought death to the place of my birth. So fell an empire built upon the wonder of the stars, and what arose in their place, well, you know what filled the gap in that power vacuum."

"The demons? You're why Hell was so close to us?"

Nation Slayer's head wobbled side-to-side. "Not the direct cause, no, but the one who got the ball moving, yes. I just pronounce the Fate, and Fate does the rest. I hardly have a say in the specifics. Still, the demons came and saw to the end of my creators and the hydras they cultivated to consume their astrological creations like yours truly. The ones who remained hid here and kidnapped me from my rightful place in the sky."

She felt the piece of information snap into place. How Hearth had described her ancestors, the art that spiraled around the pillars, and so much more. Her eyes rose and she stared into the face of Nation Slayer's host. The man's eyes were half-lidded and heavy with a glittering pink eyeshadow that just barely curtained mild amber irises. They were devoid of any particular anger or remorse. All there was were the tiny creases of amusement at the ends of his eyes. This in turn made her own frustration crescendo. Shouldn't he, shouldn't Nation Slayer be feeling so much more about what he'd done. He'd ruined a civilization, a great one, and caused the near extinction of an entire breed of creature. Nearly caused the loss of a Tradition of magic. Had allowed Hell to muscle in and torment her ancestors for at least a thousand years! Then she remembered the way he looked at the sky. It was loving, forlorn, and suffused with yearning. Tibia then remembered the utter terror he had at the amount of time lost to him. The world he knew was so far gone that magic itself had moved on without him. Whatever fury she felt at this entity was only matched by the love in her heart for even something as fucked up as it. Nation Slayer didn't choose to be born, it was made, and all it did was its purpose. Its reason for existing and it was punished for that very same reason. As if it had any choice about the type of light that it emanated.

Tibia was torn about how to handle this. Then Nation Slayer spoke.

"I can't control how Fate sees things to end, but if you return me to the sky then maybe I can shine my light upon this civilization you call the Sovereignty. If you're strong enough and cunning enough, perhaps you could use its collapse as the impetus to see your own vision ascend," Nation Slayer said.

"One of a thousand possible futures, huh?" Tibia asked.

Nation Slayer nodded quietly. "One of a thousand, but you could always be one of a kind."

Tibia looked down at Guardian's hand and then toward the little spot where the slate had receded. She didn't know how to control the Orrery and said as much.

"How would we control it once it's on?"
"I can handle that. While my host here is far more power than finesse, I still know how the Wonderwork is operated. I watched them use it when they first placed me in the sky."

Tibia let the offer spin in a corner of her mind. It'd be so easy, wouldn't it? That when she felt Guardian's words tickle her psyche, a Farspeech channel. Guardian finally resumed the connection. She wondered what he'd say. Was he on his way, would she be safe after all, or maybe she wanted him to say it'd take a few moments longer. Maybe it'd be enough time for her to turn the Orrery back on and raise the Stairway to Heaven. Nation Slayer was so single-minded on returning to the sky that he hadn't considered they might be able to just pluck him back out. If he was in and then out, maybe it'd only be long enough for the Sovereigns to fall under his light before he was removed. No harm done, right?

Choose One:
[ ] Listen to Guardian. (Guardian enters Enchantment you so you can borrow his power to fight Nation Slayer. Will cause a War conflict.)
[ ] Turn the Orrery back on to release Nation Slayer. (Tibia uses Guardian's hand to turn on the Orrery. Releases Nation Slayer the star of Armageddon back into the sky to shine upon the Sovereigns.)
[ ] Turn the Orrery back on as bait. (Tibia uses Guardian's hand to remove the shutdown key, but knowingly does so the Librarian calls the security automata right to this location. Will cause a War conflict, but automata vs Nation Slayer as well as automata vs You.)
[ ] Toss Guardian's hand out a window. (Get rid of his hand so Nation Slayer can't use it to turn on the orrery, but also deprive yourself from getting to use it to receive help. Tibia's on her own but the Orrery is secured. Will result in a non-War conflict.)

**AN: So, cutting it a smidge close but unfortunately my partner was sick today, which sucks. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this update and the somewhat lolita femboy that is the host to Nation Slayer.

In fun new magic time, you all get the chance to experience Enchantment. An Expression meant to work with Rapport (what I had previously called Soul-Union since I was still working on how I wanted to refer to these Expressions between their actual game names versus some that were more unique and diegetic). While Rapport melds the soul and mind of those engaged with it, what Enchantment does is actually let you move your Flow between you and another person to combine it. As well as let someone wield their magic through you themselves (your soul+minds are fused after all) or just let you take their own power for a spin. That's what that's all about.

Otherwise, hope you had fun. We'll have voting close on Monday 3PM PST just to account for how late I'm posting this. Ta ta~

Tradition
Forge of Fate
Path: Living Star
Fount: Astromancy

Nature
Communion 4
Industry 1
Mystery 3
Self 5
Trickery 4
War 5

Core Values
All Things Must End 5
I Am But A Tool of Fate 4
No More Masters 4

Expertise
Saboteur 3
Herald of Armageddon 3
Theurge (Astromancy) 2