Ebeli Quest: How to Manage your Plot Devices and Save Creation

[GreggHL]

[X]Find out what set off the Brasshole this time.


You sigh, reach up, and press your finger against Sky's lips. "If I left him alone for an hour while we were in Yu Shan, he would have infected the Loom with Voidcancer. If we want to be alive to hold this conversation, we'd better see what's set him off."

He nods with a smile. "Yeah."

You roll your eyes, climbing out of bed. "You would think divine beings would have a greater level of self control than this."

"Ebeli, I think we proved that wrong when we met our first King of the Woods."



You changed to a normal yellow dress and earthen overcoat, grabbing your infinite resplendence amulet just in case, and Sky used his instant movement charm to carry the both of you to where Autochthon was yelling. The two of you appeared a dozen or so feet away, in the high grass outside of a new clearing, and both of you idly hope that the 'groinspawn' in question wasn't Bright Star's daughter because that would be a bad conversation.

Instead of the screams of those at the mercy of the Great Maker and his anger management problems, you hear music. Cords of string instruments, light chimes of keys, and melodious, human voices singing a song about a sailor on the Western Seas.

"-and on my back, like that. Good!"

You walk through the high grass with purpose. No. No. You will have words with Ray. You should have known about this.

Is Autochthon singing?

"My dear- you're a fine girl. What a good wife you would be. Your eyes could steal a sailor from the sea~"

"You only heard it once?"

"I have good memory. My dear, you're a fine girl! What a life could there be for we! But my life, my love, my lady, is the sea~"

You walk through the high grass. Unblinking, your gaze like steel. You see it. A good dozen mortal attendants playing music on varied instruments, the carriage itself opened up and with a tea set and chairs already set up. At the center of the clearing, Autochthon is dancing with a woman who would be tiny against his encounter suit, but he's changed to the smaller version.

The woman has red hair, a faint green tinge to her skin, and a flower in her hair. You know the flower isn't set there, it's part of her hair, like the rose petals that follow her as she leads him through the song and dance.

You know who this is. You know very well. There is only one word for this person.

"MOTHER!"

They seemingly ignore you. Autochthon takes your mother's hand- the hand of V'Neef, daughter of the Scarlet Empress, and spins her. With the grace of a dancer, she extends a hand towards you and gestures you closer, before spinning back into the arms of the bound primordial as they continue dancing.

"Ebeli! Sorry for the fright. Do you know why my Anglykae are refusing to play?"

You shift your sight to essence. Hiding behind the carriage, you see a dozen harpists hiding, shaking in terror.

"Because you're dancing with the Great Maker. They're terrified."

V'Neef, of House V'Neef, cocks an eyebrow and continues dancing with Autochthon. "But if they don't play, they die."

"You are dancing with the Great Maker. They are going to risk death rather than expose themselves to him."

Your mother rolls her eyes at the solemn pronunciation. Then turns, spinning out, holding Autochthon's own extended hand. "Well, then! Autochthon- swear you will intend no harm towards my entourage!"

"Of course."

"On?"

"I swear on my very tools and creations they need fear no harm from me."

And with that, music starts playing. A quick scan confirms that yes- nervous, shaken, the anglykae are nonetheless playing. Your mother- as expected- has gotten Autochthon to behave. It takes you some moments to process this.

"And from the top!"

And then your mother continues dancing a upbeat, bouncy step with the bound primordial. Who is singing. Again. And quite frankly he has a nice singing voice.

"There's a port- on the Western Sea, that serves the entire merchant fleet-

"Where sailors come and share tales about their homes~"

Your mother is giggling. She's- yes, she's flirting with Autochthon.

"There's a lady at the nicest bar,

"Who pours for sailors near and far-

"They say 'Lady, another round!'

"She serves them whiskey and rum.

"They say 'My dear! You're a fine girl! What a good wife you would be! Your eyes could steal a sailor from the sea~'"

You clear your throat. Louder. "They're adorable," Sky observes. You clear your throat louder. The dancers- your mother and the King of All Craftsmen- turn to you. "Yes?" Autochthon asks.

"Why were you yelling, and I quote, 'Unhand me you self-important Terrestrial Groinspawn?'"

"Ah, yes. Apologies for that but it was a misunderstanding. I was tuning the hologlyphic interface of my encounter suit when your charming mother's entourage came across it and attempted to steal it."

V'Neef shrugs. "A giant made out of all six magical materials? Just laying there?"

"I reacted as I did. A terrible first impression but then there were apologies and she asked me if I would like some tea."

You blink. You had Judge's Ear on so that entire thing was true. In less than an hour, your Mother has managed to get Autochthon to apologize for something, and also has spent the time dancing with him. Flirting with him. Her terrifying social abilities are apparently enough to tame a Primordial.

"So this is it," you state flatly, "This is Hell."

Autochthon looks up. Then back to you.

"Can't be right. The Sun isn't Green."

V'Neef snort-laughs loudly, arm wrapped around Autochthon's and leaning against him. You're not sure when you became comfortable with the fine Realm tradition of matricide, but you're far too comfortable right now with the idea of killing your mother.

"So, tea?" V'Neef says with a giggle, "I think we should have some tea."

You had some tea.



The four of you reclined, attended hand and foot by Mother's people and her entourage. While having your tea, she naturally complimented you on finally noticing what everyone else did.

"Unfortunately, your father and I were both far too busy with economic matters to attend the wedding, but I understand it involved killing a Deathlord. Was the honeymoon as notable?" She adds that little lilt to the end. That lilt with meaning.

"Kind of," you say with a shrug, "Ended up finding my Lunar Mate. Finding out he's an insane hundred foot long orca."

V'Neef nods.

"You must bring your husband with you next time you visit," Autochthon says, drinking the tea through a straw extruded from his finger, "He must compliment you excellently if you're still of this humor after so long."

"He is," Mother says, patting Autochthon on the hand, and then turns to Sky, "So, any progress on children?"

Sky chokes on his tea. You stare at V'Neef, close your eyes, and sip your tea. Calm runs through you. This must be that artifact set Mother keeps with her.

"Well keep at it," V'Neef says, "I hope some day you know the joy of having children and paying people to raise them."

Autochthon snorts. "Are you flirting with the Great Maker?" you ask.

"Just because I've ordered doesn't mean I can't look at the menu," she says with a shrug. You turn, with no small alarm, at Autochthon. As Mother just admitted it was play. Autochthon shrugs.

"If we attempted it, I would most likely cause her to explode."

Right. Right. Right. You turn back to Mother. "So, why are you here, exactly?"

V'Neef sips her tea, smiles, and sets it down on her saucer.

"I wanted to know what your timetable was for taking over the Realm, because the Isle's getting ugly."

[ ]Write in.

 

[GreggHL]

[X] "I still have to kill an evil transdimensional undead Demon and terrify Hell for shits and giggles, but I suppose I can fit that somewhere in the schedule."
-[X] My husband has administrative rights to the Sword of Creation
-[X] I have found myself a high breeding dragonblooded house inhabiting a mobile first age city-fortress
-[X] I have allied myself with Autochtonia. Speaking of, Autochton, could you contact the people working with my sister to find out what is going on there? And to make sure they don't kill themselves or break the Sword of Creation trying to hack it before Sky here can take it over?
-[X] I do have both fetishes of Theion bound to my entourage and might have a reborn and resocialized Theion forever in my debt soonish.
-[X] Am I successful enough to finally impress you, mother?


You rub the bridge of your nose and sigh. "I still have to kill an evil transdimensional undead Demon and terrify Hell for shits and giggles but I suppose I can fit that somewhere in the schedule."

V'Neef stares at you. "Transdimensional?"

"Well of Udr," Autochthon says, "A constant point in the Multiverse which allows cross-universal travel, with heavy risks."

"Riiiight." V'Neef nods. You see some of yourself in her at that point. Especially confusion. "So, an evil, undead demon from another dimension. Why are you going to terrify Hell? And how?"

You point at Autochthon. "Oh, right," Mother says with a nod, "Yes, makes sense."

"So why do you think I'm going to take over the Realm?"

V'Neef shrugs. "Outside of all of your sisters you seem the type. You're a successful Anathema- or Solar Exalted because let's be honest, it's just titles at this point- and honestly even the Bull of the North would be a stabilizing influence over the civil war going on."

Yeah. That's bad. You turn to the bound Primordial. "Autochthon, contact the people working with my sister to find out what's going on with the Realm Defense Grid and make sure they don't break it."

"I do not communicate directly with the Champions, Ebeli. However, I will endeavor to have Kadmek contact them, as they are his Blessed."

"Bijar?" V'Neef sighs, visibly pained. "How far things have fallen if your sister is the one we are pinning plans on."

You flare your nostrils, narrow your eyes, and proceed with the history lesson. "When the Empress took the throne, she didn't have a House, she didn't have children, she didn't have backing or anything like that. She had the most powerful weapon in Creation." You lean in. "And if Bijar manages to pull off what she's planning? So will she."

Your mother's face is stone for long moments. She leans back, folding her arms. You can see the thoughts, the considerations, behind her eyes. The shifting opinion. Carefully measured and mostly silent, she nonetheless nods.

"And you?"

You shrug. "It's on my 'to do' list. What about you, Mother? You don't have holdings on the Isle anymore. You've been buying up Satrapies since the civil war started."

"Just because I don't have many enemies doesn't mean I have none. And I'd rather them not end up on the throne. Out of all of the choices, I'd probably protest you less than Mnemon because you don't hold grudges."

You blink. Was that an actual compliment? You're not sure how to handle that. Instead you rub your eyes, shaking your head.

"Okay. Are you just passing through or...never mind." You point to the Primordial. "Autochthon, keep V'Neef company. I need to talk to my husband."



You let out a low, pained groan, pacing around your bedroom. Sky has made tea and lit incense to help you center yourself, and waits in one of the chairs before you plop yourself down across from him.

"So," you say, "Children."

"You don't want children because you don't want to outlive them," Sky says, "And neither of us want to put our children through the sort of things which would end up exalting them as Solar or Lunar exalted."

You nod.

"So, you have a Gem of Immortality?"

He sucks his teeth. "No. You saw Lumi leading me into the Loom when we were in Yu Shan?"

You nod.

"We met with Saturn and Jupiter. At the same time. I asked for a meeting, they thought the proposal had merit."

You roll your hand for him to continue.

"Sidereals are born with their Exaltations and exalt when they're supposed to," he continues, "So, if we had a child, and that child was a Sidereal-"

You nod, and raise a finger. "So," you interrupt, "You asked two of the Maidens if they could pull strings so that, when we have a child, they will be a Sidereal?"

He nods. Bites his lip.

"There's more?" you ask.

"Yes," he says, "In particular, one Sidereal. One particular Sidereal Exaltation."

You nod.

"Chejop Kejak's."

You are silent for long moments. Your response is a measured, sensible,

"What."

[ ]Write in.

 

[GreggHL]

So, one thing to keep in mind when considering whether or not the hypothetical child will exalt is the parents and extended family.

Someone who exalts as a Lunar is a survivor. Someone who exalts as a Solar is a hero.

Both of these are people who've gone through something that proves themselves worthy of these exaltations, and they tend to not be pleasant. Sky exalted when he defended his sister from a mob of Lintha in an old ruin. Ebeli exalted when she solved a demonic logic puzzle while going through something akin to the Test of Humanity from Dune. These are not things that they want to put their child through. Which leads to the Catch-22 of, if their child is mortal, they will have exceptional genes and a quality of life but they will have to bury them in a century. Maybe two.

Their child having Chejop Kejak's exaltation has other issues. Because Chejop had enemies. So many enemies. This child will have people gunning for them, manipulating them, looking for payback and vengeance. Think of what Leviathan did- he spent centuries avenging himself on the descendants of the dragonblooded who killed his lover, believing them to be their reincarnations.

People who go after this kid will be correct in believing him to be Chejop's reincarnation. Sky, on the other hand, would want to protect this child by becoming their father- in deed, if not in fact.

 

[GreggHL]

So, one thing to note- whether or not the hypothetical child of Sky and Ebeli will have Chejop's Exaltation is up in the air. Between the Maidens of Destiny, the Gods of Exaltation, and Autochthon, it is certainly possible to ensure that Chejop's exaltation ends up inside said child. What is more likely, however, is that said child is born and the Sidereals track said child like they do with newborn Sidereals. Once that happens, we would be alerted as to their location, in order to take game actions regarding the child.

Because this is important- even between the Maidens of Destiny, the Gods of Exaltation, Ansa Firstborn herself and the Great Maker, there is no guarantee that a sidereal exaltation will do what we want.

 

[GreggHL]

[X] Ok... That's. Ok, that could work. Need to make sure the exaltation is scrubbed clean, though.
-[X] And I was thinking about approaching Autochton to make those alchemical-like artifact exaltations for our children too. Those should grant life-extension.

"Explain further, dear." You raise a hand, first. "It's just...there's the sheer amount of trouble an Exaltation- much less Chejop Kejak's- would invite for any child. Although..." You rub your temples, leaning back in your chair. "I guess that we'd have to make sure- or the Lyteks would have to make sure it was scrubbed completely clean and if we wanted immortal children maybe we should just ask Autochthon to make an exaltation or artifact for the children..."

Sky nods. He reaches across the coffee table and takes your hand.

"You didn't just suggest this because you want power over the reincarnation of the leader of the Sidereals." You don't ask. You know. Sky would be a great King because he would never seek a throne.

"Leviathan tortured the descendants of the dragonblooded in Luthe because he believed they were the reincarnations of the ones who killed his lover." He bites his lip. "Anyone who holds a grudge against Chejop Kejak would be right in saying this child is Chejop's reincarnation, but it doesn't make revenge against them any more just."

You rub your face. Yes, he has a point. But Mother's here and that's draining. "Okay."

He's right. Whoever the Old Man's successor is going to be is going to have so much baggage. And you liked him. So.

"So, what, would the Lyteks be present when we conceived?"

He shakes his hands. "It wouldn't be ours."

You cock an eyebrow. "Sorry?"

"The Maidens explained it to me. The Old Man was there for five thousand years. There has been a child fated to have his Exaltation somewhere in Creation right now."

You fold your arms. "So, adopt them? Bring their family here- which I will admit is one of the nicer places to live? Which makes sense. Group of Solars watching over the reincarnation of the man who ordered the Usurpation's a powerful message." You take a deep breath, and pinch the bridge of your nose. "What would we owe the Maidens for this?"

Sky shrugs. "I don't know if we'll owe them anything. This is one of their Chosen, and we're protecting them."

You nod. "Okay. Well...let's consider it. Are we even sure that it would work?"

Sky rubs the back of his neck. "Honestly? I don't know. But it's burying the hatchet. We helped Lytek and the Old Man do it, so why not between the Old Man and the Solars?"

You tap your fingers, then finish your tea.

"Okay. Well, speaking of Exalted children, Bright Star said he was bringing Shoat of the Mire with him. We should introduce her to Autochthon."



Sky had to check up on the army, and so you cleaned up, changed, and made your way over to your manse. Your manse was Malfean, so a creature of darkness- like Shoat- would be more comfortable. On the way, you saw the immense magitech lion, and in its shade Homkora and Shell- or at least Shell's avatar- were talking.

"...and then he almost infected the Loom with the sickness," Shell finishes, nursing a bottle of semtex, "Does that sound right?"

Homkora nods, sipping from her flash. You can see whatever green liquid is inside it going through her translucent form. "About right. Given, I don't really remember it, because it was thousands of years ago, but it sounds about right for his behavior."

They both nod to you. Both sit in the shade provided by the Colossus, and gesture towards one of the pillows arranged around the bowl of ice. You sit down, tucking your legs underneath you and pull out a bottle of tea. "So not freaking out because she's Alchemical?"

"I freaked out because he was Autochthon." The glass woman rubs the sides of her mask. "No offense sorcerer, but did you not expect a demon to be terrified of that?"

"I didn't think of it, and I apologize." You are sincere, at least. Best to change the subject. "So, question? Your eyes are artifacts. What do they do?"

You push up your glasses, leaning in. Examine the obsidian orbs as Homkora takes a pull from her flask. Rather than letting you examine them, the demon shrugs and tells you.

"They let me see how things are connected. Relationships, blood, descent, history, ownership. You know, those sorts of things. Like how you two-" She gestures between you and Shell. "Are friends. Or how Shell and the Colossus are the same."

"So things that become Arcane Links."

Homkora nods. "Like what you need Orabillis for, right?"

"Yes. The demon we're trying to find is an undead version of him from Ruvelia's universe, who was basically eaten by the Engine of Extinction."

"There is nothing about that sentence I like." Homkora folds her arms and hums, leaning back and forth. "Although...now that I think about it, I'm thinking there's another way of we can get an arcane link that doesn't involve, say, taking Autochthon into Malfeas."

You nod. "Listening."

"When you mean 'undead', you mean infected by the Voidcancer, yes?"

You nod.

"The Voidcancer can serve as an arcane link."

[ ]Go to the Manse to see Shoat and introduce her to Autochthon.

[ ]Go to Autochthon to make an Arcane Link using the Voidcancer.

[ ]Write in.

 

[GreggHL]

[X]Go to the Manse to see Shoat and introduce her to Autochthon.


In the weeks since you took the Well of Udr and Bright Star took in Shoat of the Mire, there has been change. Good change, hopefully. Gone are the ragged black scraps she wore. Now she wears a black dress and white leggings and sleeves. She wears a belt, with holsters for her soulsteel daggers. What was oily black hair is now done up in braids, taught by the girl sitting across the table from her.

The Abyssal- the ten year old abyssal- sits across from Karissa as the six year old teaches her how to play Gateway. Sitting between them, Shell watches, taking notes. She's shown interest in learning the game herself. You've played Karissa in Gateway before. You've lost. Badly.

Behind the one-way mirror, you watch the game, and turn to the father. Bright Star strokes his newly grown in beard, nodding.

"How is she?" you ask.

"Well, they're both doing good," the Zenith responds, "Karissa loves helping people, and teaching. And Shoat is opening up more around her. I don't leave them alone together, of course. Either I'm there, or Kysoko's there, or someone we trust is there."

You nod. Then notice something. "Shoat? We don't know her real name?"

"I asked her if Shoat of the Mire was her real name. I had Judge's Ear on. She said no, and it was...well, it was inconclusive. I asked her if she could tell me her real name, and she said she couldn't, and that was true." He folds his arms. "There's something odd about it. Some sort of necromancy."

You nod. "I wish we knew any other Abyssals to ask."

Bright Star hums.

"So how did you bind a Primordial?"

"Technically, Autochthon has modified his Fetich soul so he is inhabiting it, and allowed that to be bound."

"There is nothing about that sentence I like."

You shrug. "Well, he's...kind of human."

Bright Star winces.

"So's the Ebon Dragon," you add, sucking your teeth, "Not like that, though. He's...odd. But interested, and actually personable if you know how to talk with him?"

That came out as too much of a question.

"How is he around children?"

"Better than a Hopping Puppeteer."

Bright Star stares at you. You shrug. "Sorry. Bad joke. Every time I've seen him with a child he's referred to them as a 'tiny human.' He might not get 'age', since his children are all built." You rub the bridge of your nose. "Anyway, outside of Ruvelia, all my entourage was really uncomfortable being around an Abyssal and the Great Maker."

Bright Star nods. "Okay, then. So you, me, Shell, Ruvelia, and Ray who is somewhere in the room just in case this goes bad."

You nod. "Let's do this."



You had Ruvelia keep them company. She wasn't nervous around abyssals or creatures of darkness. Abyssals existed on her world, she explained- she didn't fear them. She didn't fear their master, either. So, sitting next to Shoat, Ruvelia played Karissa in Gateway.

Karissa won.

Autochthon was still in the guest wing with Mother. Thankfully, there was nothing traumatizing for you to walk in on. Mother was listening with rapt attention to the story of some creation during the Times of Glory, being waited on hand and foot by brass constructs. You may consider conscripting Mother somehow for these endeavors. Having a Primordial handler could be useful.

The door to the game room opens. The children and queen at the table look up, and Autochthon rotates his facet eyes, staring at Shoat.

"Fascinating. A necrotic Exalted."

Karissa shuffles around the tables to sit next to Shoat. The other door opens, and Bright Star walks in. He doesn't walk over, but he makes sure they can see him. They also know he can be between them and Autochthon if he needs to be.

"You're the Great Maker," Shoat says.

"You know who I am?"

"The Neverborn do. They whisper to me who you are."

"Do they listen to you?"

Shoat shakes her head. The Great Maker walks towards the table. Waldos, screens, glyphs fold out from the encounter suit. Outlines of Shoat appear- essence displays, comparisons, analysis.

"I would have done the same during the War, but it would have cost allies. The Void is powerful and deadly and consuming and is an excellent weapon, but the Incarnae are powerful enough that their Essence counteracts it."

He continues advancing. You walk alongside him. Ruvelia sits opposite the table from the girls, idly studying a game piece, and Shell eyes her god with concern.

"Wait, no. Not Necrotic. Mirrored. I see, the essence patterns on this are that of the Solar Exaltation, but the Void has reversed the light into darkness. Life into death, warmth into cold. Your Majesty, the version of myself that died, did he do the same?"

"He did," Ruvelia says with a nod, "His first act, after consuming his attackers, was to change a full half of the Solar Exalted into his Abyssal Deathknights."

"Yes. Yes. I can see it- like trails on the black necrotic essence. Chains around the hypermote that the Neverborn are using to keep it tethered, and must be how they whisper so I must ask, how is it down there?"

You see it through your Sorcerer's Sight. The crimson and black building up beneath and around Shoat. Shell reacts first, grabbing Karissa and pulling her out of range. Ruvelia reacts next, blue flame igniting, spreading out, her own fire burning away the death and despair and unmaking that coming from the tether snapping back.

Bright Star appears between Autochthon and Shoat, hand on the Primordial's chest, eyes narrowed.

"Enough," he says.

Autochthon looks down at the Zenith. The facet eyes rotate. "Yes. That was the reaction I was looking for. There is a tether between the Void and the Exaltation which is most likely serving some purpose of greater binding."

You give Bright Star an apologetic shrug. He shakes his head, walks around the table, and sits down next to Shoat. Karissa sits down on her opposite side, staring daggers at the Primordial.

"So how does she become a Solar?" Karissa asks.

Autochthon tilts his head.

"You said she was mirrored," the girl says, "So how do we flip her back?"

"I imagine the tether is the key. It bind the Hypermote to the Void. Most likely, the easiest way to do so would be to find the sympathetic link to the tether and force that through the Mouth of Oblivion. The result would either eliminate or release the tether, allowing the exaltation to either purify itself or allow Ignis to purify it if convinced."

"And what would the sympathetic link be?" you ask.

Autochthon turns to you. "Well, her Neverborn master, most likely."

He lets that pronouncement hang in the air. Then claps his hands with the sound of brass.

"Well, that was fascinating! Who's ready to head to Malfeas?"

[ ]Head to Cecelyne.

[ ]Talk with Autochhton about how you are going to keep Malfeas from killing you all before going to Cecelyne.

[ ]Ponder how exactly one would shove a Neverborn into the Mouth of Oblivion.

[ ]Head to Luthe first, introduce Autochthon to Petinent Star.

[ ]Write in.

 

[GreggHL]

[X]Talk with Autochhton about how you are going to keep Malfeas from killing you all before going to Cecelyne.
[X]Ponder how exactly one would shove a Neverborn into the Mouth of Oblivion.

KILLING THE NEVERBORN(for real): Extended Roll
Shoving them Into the Mouth of Oblivion: 200 Cumulative Successes. Difficulty 2(enthusiastic help of Autochthon).
Other Methods: 200 Cumulative Successes. Difficulty 7.


You took aside the Great Maker and Ruvelia and went into one of the Manse's private rooms. Once there, you leveled your best disapproving glare at the primordial and made your displeasure known.

"Never do that again."

Autochthon stares at you with facet eyes.

"Do what?"

"Taunt the Neverborn. Especially when my friend's six year old mortal daughter is in the blast radius."

To your credit, the Great Maker does not protest. Instead, his eyes rotate and he nods. You clear your throat, feeling the headache coming on. "Related, if we're going to go to Malfeas, we need to figure out how to keep Malfeas from killing us all."

"Yes," Autochthon says, turning from you to Ruvelia, "Both of us will serve as complications."

"It would be easier if this were my universe. Tiferet is power without will and would not react strongly to Ligier's presence." Ruvelia gives you a beatific smile. "You would be welcome all the same, though."

You nod, feeling some tension releasing. "We need to figure out what Malfeas would do if he realizes Autochthon is in the Demon City."

"Oh I already know. I've been there."

You turn back to the brass giant. "What?"

"Shortly after the end of the War and before my Exodus," Autochthon says with a half-interested wave, "I traversed the Endless Desert in an encounter suit and set foot in the Demon City. What I noticed first was that none of my kin came to engage me or taunt me or attack me."

You nod. "So...no Yozi came near?"

"Indeed. In fact, I only saw the retreating form of the Silent Wind."

You blink. "You saw Adorjan. Running away?"

"Yes. I believe even in her mindless state she understood what was coming. That was also when I felt the Green Sun's flame."

That's...excessive. "Ligier fired on you."

"Technically it was Malfeas firing Ligier at me. And not directly at me. It was at the layer my encounter suit was on. This served two purposes- to cleanse the area of any sickness I may have carried on me, and to soften the brass so that there was less resistance when he subsequently collapsed the layers on top of me."

You blink. Then again. You are silent for long moments. You know that 'collapsing layers,' as in layers of brass multiple times the size of Creation, are the leading cause of death in Malfeas. But to think that Malfeas would intentionally do so just to kill Autochthon wait he said layers.

"How many layers?"

"I vacated the encounter suit the moment it was destroyed but I understand it reached one hundred and thirteen before Isiodoros managed to physically stop it and Hegra managed to sufficiently drug him."

Ruvelia nods. "Sounds legitimate," she says, hands on her hips.

"I was in no danger. I would never go into Malfeas in my humanform Jouten. In fact, I can't remember where it is. Most likely I left it in the Sword of Creation but no matter."

You raise a hand. "That being said? How do we keep Malfeas from killing us all?"

Autochthon and Ruvelia exchange a glance. Autochthon turns back to you. "I can think of two ideas. Malfeas sees in two ways, primarily. Through his humanform jouten, the Brass Dancer, through the Green Sun. As long as he does not see me through either of those, we would be safe."

You nod. "Okay."

"To that extent, I would shift myself into an elsewhere pocket tied to an artifact I would give to you. I would spend most of the time in Elsewhere as a result, but at the same time it would ensure safety. Assuming that there are no complications."

You purse your lips. That's sensible. "And the other idea?"

Autochthon taps his fingers together. Oh boy.

"Malfeas represents a wealth of resources and materials which are amazingly beneficial to any craftsman. Not just demons and chalcanth and azoth, but also things like quills from the Boar or scales from the Dragon or rains from Hegra and all that."

He glances at Ruvelia. She nods.

"As it is, if I am to end my self-imposed exile from existence, I will need to gain access to these materials once more. As things currently stand between myself and Malfeas, there must be a catharsis between us."

You nod. "Catharsis," you repeat.

"Catharsis."

"Which is?"

"Engaging Malfeas via my World Jouten. As it is in Elsewhere, it can emerge anywhere. I would have it emerge above the Demon City, challenge Malfeas, and there would be catharsis no matter who the victor is."

You state at Autochthon. You reach up, work your pinky in your ear, and check for ear wax. None. You rub the bridge of your nose. Stare at the Primordial.

"You want to fight Malfeas."

"Yes."

"You want to fight Malfeas."

"Yes."

"You want to fight Malfeas."

Autochthon nods. "Why did you ask that three ti-"

"Because I want a different answer!"

Blue flame spreads out. You feel your blood pressure lowering. Your chakras aligning. "This has precedent," Ruvelia says, "Part of the reason Malfeas is so enraged is that he was not dethroned by those he views as equal subjects. It was humiliating."

"And should I be beaten and bend my knee to Malfeas and acknowledge him as king..." Autochthon waggles a hand. "On the other hand, if I best him in combat..."

"He's the most powerful Primordial."

"Theion was. Malfeas was the most lessened of the Yozi." Autochthon and Ruvelia nod.

"And there is precedent," Ruvelia adds, "It is how Theion became king. He challenged Mardukth and won. And so was always King."

[ ]This is the worst idea ever.

[ ]This is the best idea ever.

[ ]Write in.

 

[GreggHL]

So, we know how Malfeas will react to Autochthon.

Based on hanging with Ruvelia and Ligier, we also know how he'd react to Ruvelia.

At first, Malfeas will believe we are mocking him. That this is a measured insult to rub the death of Ruvelia in his face.

Then he will realize she is Ruvelia, and order every force at his disposal- the Infernals, his soul hierarchy, every demon who will listen- to forcibly reintegrate her into his soul hierarchy. This includes Ligier.

Of course, Ligier's loyalties lie towards Ruvelia. While Malfeas is the Yozi he is a part of, Malfeas cannot force Ligier's hand.

 

[GreggHL]

[X]This is the worst idea ever.


You hold up a hand and walk out. You walk down the alien, winding hallways. Past the summoning rooms, the servant demons still dematerialized in the wake of the Great Maker, past the folding servants who've had to pick up the slack, into the gameroom where Shoat has won her third consecutive game of Gateway against Ray and is glowing- with pride, not Unlight- and walk over to Karissa.

"I need your help."

The six year old nods with a smile. She takes your hand and you attempt to lead her- but she leads you instead- to the private room where Autochthon and Ruvelia are waiting.

"Great Maker, explain again what it is you wish to do," you say.

"Yes." Facet eyes rotate. "I wish to achieve catharsis with Malfeas by emerging in my world jouten above the Demon City, challenging him for primacy directly like he did with the previous Primordial King, thus allowing myself access to the materials of the demon city."

You look down to the six year old child.

"That's a bad idea," she says, "Isn't Malfeas always angry? So won't you appearing just make him angrier?"

The Great Maker is pointedly silent. A huff of steam emits from his grill. "I acknowledge the foresight of the tiny human."

"And I am not against some sort of catharsis between you and Malfeas," you add, "But you appearing out of Elsewhere to challenge Malfeas to a fight- a fight which you might be able to win, I will add- will put the people of Autochthonia in danger, as well as every demon in Malfeas. What would happen if, in the process, Malfeas became infected with the Voidcancer?"

That actually makes Autochthon stop short. He thinks for a moment. Considers it. Reaching up, he strokes his chin. There are sparks of brilliance behind his eyes and Ruvelia cocks an eyebrow.

"Are you thinking about making the Yozi sick?" Karissa asks.

"No, tiny human. That would be bad. As they are healthy, and therefor sickness would be anathema." A hologlyphic display opens up in front of the encounter suit. "But! I am not. And, that is part of my nature. Death is based on my own mortality. And when the Neverborn died-"

Oh. You...you see where this is going.

"They were infected by the Void?"

Autochthon nods.

"Could the Neverborn be treated?" you ask.

Autochthon shrugs. "I never considered such a thing. I have little love for my dead kin."

"Why?" Karissa asks.

"They took my creations. Corrupted them. They butchered my son and based humanity on him."

Karissa nods. "All of them?"

Autochthon pauses. The facet eyes rotate. Ruvelia beams. From her dress she reaches in and takes out a wrapped piece of candy, gliding over and handing it to Karissa. Patting the girl on the head, she leads her out.

"I will think on this," Autochthon says, "Thank you, Sorcerer."


Killing the Neverborn: 200 successes, difficulty 2, 13/200
Curing (some of) the Neverborn: 400 successes, difficulty 7, 9/400
Operation Ball Kicking: Figure out a way to create a reapproachment between Autochthon and Malfeas. Int+Occult/Socializing. 100 successes, difficulty 1 (due to assistance from Ruvelia), 32/100


You went with Autochthon hiding in Elsewhere unless when called, and he gave you a bracelet made out of woven brass and orichalcum that could be used to communicate with him. After a few days of preparation and running more ideas by Karissa, you decided to head off to Cecelyne.

With the Great Maker firmly out of sight and out of mind, the rest of your entourage had come out of hiding. Which was good, as Florivet's ship was waiting and he needed the crew.

The furry drunk captain was a natural at the helm, and the ship sailed smoothly through the silver sands over the empty sky of dying stars. You weren't going to take children to Malfeas, even deadly children. Bright Star stayed behind in Creation, continuing to help Shoat.

You would just have to think like a six year old girl in order to see the holes in some ideas. You did allow yourself to be carried off on a tangent, though- with Ruvelia's help, you spent a disproportionate amount of time wondering how, exactly, one would achieve some sort of catharsis between the Great Maker and the Demon King.

Which, now that Ligier had returned, you could ask more directly. Standing on the bow of the ship, above the naked mermaid decoration, Ligier lets the wind whip through his hair. He turns his head slightly to you.

"Yes, sorcerer?"

"Ruvelia told you the Great Maker's idea?"

Ligier turns to you, arms folded. "She did not. She respects you enough to not gossip behind your back."

You nod. "We were talking about ways to get the Great Maker into Malfeas. One idea Autochthon suggested, and which he particularly liked, was engaging Malfeas in battle in his world jouten to achieve some form of catharsis."

Ligier pauses. Then nods. "He is still a madman. But it has merit."

The green sun strokes his chin. "Malfeas burns with rage for many reasons. Betrayal, subjugation, humiliation, failure."

"And because he was brought down by what were essentially fleas?"

"Not exactly. But the Great Maker's rebellion- and from Malfeas' perspective, the Great Maker was the key architect of this rebellion- never involved him on the field of battle." Ligier shrugs. "I understand and respect why not. We see from Ruvelia's world what would happen if he entered the field in a blind rage."

You nod. "Yeah."

"But," Ligier adds, "Autochthon never engaged Malfeas during the war. There were more ways than direct battles that they could have fought. A contest of champions, for example. Malfeas could have called upon a champion, Autochthon could have fielded a construct of his. This would have lead to an acknowledgment between the two that the Great Maker was directly challenging Malfeas' rule."

Ligier shrugs. "This is all academic, of course. We know the principal architects of the rebellion were the Incarnae. They provided the impetus, while Autochthon provided the tools. However, Malfeas still regards the gods as tools themselves."

"And hence the special hatred towards Autochthon."

Which is punctuated by a cannon blast. Not from the ship, but from another one, in the distance.

Shit.

Sand pirates!

[ ]Give them the broadsides!

[ ]Evade!

[ ]Write in.

 

[GreggHL]

[X]Give them the broadsides!


You take the steps two at a time, make your way to the top deck where Florivet effortlessly works the controls and is weaving his bone-ship through the fire. Ray and Sky are there, helping to control the mast. Shell is below deck, cloaking Ruvelia's presence so you don't reveal her too soon. It's one thing to have Malfeas throwing a shit fit. Another to have Cecelyne angry with you.

"Captain! Give them the broadsides!"

"Yeah, they hit my cannons," Florivet says with a laugh, "Whoever it is, they know what they're doing! I'll give them that much!"

You roll your eyes. Then turn to the bow.

"Ligier! Obliterate these idiots!"

Ligier extends a hand, gathering green fire. A bolt of emerald flies true, slamming into the boat.

Or at least where the boat would be. It flickers and vanishes briefly, effortlessly- nay, perfectly- dodging the blast. A pillar of green erupts in the distance, sending blue glass raining down.

Ligier laughs. "So! A Scourge!"

"Ah shit." You narrow your eyes. Supernal sight takes over. You peer out across the distance and towards the boat, to see-

(Per+Awareness, 9 dice +6 successes, 22 successes)

A woman with blue hair streaked with viridian and crimson, dressed in the leathers of a pirate captain. She doffs her tri-corner hat and raises her cutlass, standing atop the deck before the two dozen blood apes in brass armor.

"Remember, minions! What does not kill you makes you stronger! And what does kill you doesn't stick, 'cause you're all bound anyway! For Malfeas!"

"AND GREAT JUSTICE!"

"Ray!" you shout, "It's your sister!"

"No shit? Hatachi got a new boat? She still have the Hellstrider?"

You see, rising from the deck an insectoid creature on four legs. It flickers out its immense, translucent wings and roars with its mantis like mouth, before opening its chest to allow its blood ape pilot entry.

"Yep! She still has the Hellstrider!"

You turn to Florivet. "Should I bring out the Maker?"

Florivet glares at you. "We are not letting him touch my ship." He weaves the ship out of the way of another barrage. "Look, I can get us close enough that they can't use their cannons and you can smash them up good. Maybe they'll get a good look at Ligier and promptly surrender."

"They're lead by Ray's sister."

"So sanity is off the table, then?"

You shrug. You walk across the deck, and tap your staff on the door below you. It opens and Homkora peaks her head out. "We're under attack by sand pirates lead by an Infernal," you explain, "In the unlikely event they make it past all of us, you'll have to defend Shell and Ruvelia."

Homkora nods, and closes the door.

Florivet spins the wheel and bears down on the pirate ship. In response, the pirate ship does the same, prompting the demon to swear loudly, turning to the side just before the bow of the brass and black ship slams into the side of your demon bone boat.

Athletics charms and hand rails keep you from being thrown off your feet. Florivet isn't so lucky, tossed off his own ship with a yelp. Blood Apes pour on from the bow- which folds out into a plank- and onto the ship. They wave cutlasses and roar.

And stop, as one, when they see Ligier standing with a magnificent grin on his face.

Hatachi leaps over them, landing in a half crouch. The hellstrider rises on her ship, powering up the oscillating blade that makes up its left arm, its nine eyes glowing.

"Hey Ebeli!" Hatachi says, waving her cutlass, "I'm here for your booty! And money, too!"

You wave with your staff. "Hatachi, just walk away and we don't have to pulp you." You point the staff at her. Behind you, Sky forms a sword from sunlight and Ray cracks her knuckles. "As you can see, I have backup."

The Infernal grins. "I can see that."

She turns to the ship. "Master! They have Ligier!"

You see it with your Sorcerer's Sight. Some presence deep within the ship, masked by charms. But powerful and brass and familiar and-

Well, not masked anymore.

Instead, it bursts out of the hold, spinning through the air and trailing wood and silver sand. Landing before you, the dust and smoke clears and you get a good look and your gut drops.

You are a good enough demonologist that you instantly recognize who this is.

"Lord Ligier." A wizened hand with long nails strokes the wispy, white beard. The hands become like claws and draws one foot up, windmilling his arms into a masterful and ancient fighting stance.

Even if you didn't know who this was, you knew this-

If an old master was smiling, you were in deep shit.

Join Battle:
Fifteenth Soul of the Demon Emperor
The Crucible of Brass and Iron
Suntarankal

​

[ ]Hide behind Ray

[ ]Hide behind Sky

[ ]Hide behind Ligier

[ ]Get Autochthon out of Elsewhere

[ ]Write in.