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

[GreggHL]

[X]Tell Malfeas that an (unspecified) Neverborn has been converting his subordinates into partly dead abominations. This whole presentation was to impress the seriousness of the situation.
-[X]"Oh King! All that you see before you is done with a specific goal! We wish to stop the Engine of Extinction from Ruvelia's reality that has already sent a Divine Minister through the Well into this Creation! Would you really allow Autochthon to be the one who saves you and yours from being consumed? Join us and I'll swear an oath to see you free!"
-[X]Work on moving past Malfeas' issues.
-[X]Unity of the Closed Fist. Anyone you can except the Ebon Dragon.


You watch with dumbstruck horror as the Devil Tyrant squeezes, cutting off Autochthon's protests, crushing the throat of the brass giant before driving brass claws into and through the facet eyes. With a single pull, Malfeas' jouten tears Autochthon's head from his shoulders before smashing the head through the chest, slamming the lump of brass through the Great Maker until there is nothing but smoking wreckage beneath his feet.

Ray places a hand on your shoulder, grinning. "Shhhhhh. Let it happen, 'cause it's beautiful."

You open your mouth to protest. Then Elsewhere opens once more and Autochthon steps out. As tall as the Devil Tyrant. He raises a finger, and bows.

"Your Majesty, I wish to talk."

Malfeas roars, brings up his sword, and cleaves the King of All Craftsmen from head to toe. The two halves drop in opposite directions with thunderous crashes. Elsewhere opens and Autochthon walks out, and he bows.

"Greetings, Your Majesty. May we parlay?"

He does not protest when the Devil Tyrant tears off his arm- the Encounter Suit's arm- and begins beating him to scrap with it.

"Autochthon's not in the Encounter Suits." It's a hypothesis, really. You shift your sight to your Sorcerer's Sight, and watch the Devil Tyrant savagely beat the Encounter Suit to scrap and wreckage, embedding the arm in the pile, in the remains of the plaza.

A spark leaves the wreckage, and reappears when another portal to Elsewhere opens and another suit walks through, and...

(Int+Occult, 12 dice, +6 autosuccesses. 11 successes)

You can't help but giggle. "It's the same design as that encounter suit Logos used," you say, snapping your fingers, "The one that kept spitting out new suits when Mnemon's entourage blew them up! It's just going to keep spitting out new encounter suits for Malfeas to wreck and..."

Ray nods. You turn to her. You can hear the sounds of Malfeas tearing out Autochthon's heart and shoving it down his mouth grill, and roaring when another Autochthon exits Elsewhere with a missive of parlay. "Ray. What exactly are you doing?"

Ray shrugs. "While you were running from the Ebon Dragon, I talked with Ligier and Autochthon. We all figured out that the Ultimate Asshole's plan was to get Malfeas to see Autochthon and lose his shit, and figured that it'd also make a distraction if he saw Ruvelia. But, at the same time, would be cathartic as heeeeeell."

You look around. You notice something. "We're not on fire."

"I've denied Malfeas access to the Emerald Flame," Ligier says, floating down, "And ordered the rest of Malfeas' subsouls to belay any orders Malfeas gives. Right now, he has his will, and his strength. We are denying him his greater power, but cannot do so indefinitely."

You glance between Ligier and Ruvelia. They look to each other, and nod, and Ligier turns to you.

"Sorcerer, I request that you initiate the Unity of the Closed Fist with yourself, Ruvelia, and Myself."



With a burst of sunlight, twin suns dawn upon the demon city. Calling upon the powers of their respective progenitors, the Green Sun and Cerulean Star- joined together by your sorcery, including within it yourself, your husband, your circle-sisters and the former Fetich of the Great Maker- becomes something more. Floating up, the golden figure flickers and becomes one of colorless flame, and when you speak- for it is still you- it is with your own voice.

And the voice of authority. The voice of on high.

Hear me, Malfeas! Hear me, King of Kings! All that you see before you is done with a specific goal!

The Devil Tyrant Jouten turns from the wreckage of the latest encounter suit. The grinding of the many shells halts, and his three eyes flickers and glow with steady rage. But now- now you have your own genius. Now you have your own genius, and supplemented by so much more. All your problems have been solved by demons and Unity of the Closed Fist, and this is no exception.

You hate. But more than anything else, you hate yourself. You hate yourself for your failure to protect your subjects, to protect the Queen to your Prince.

You extend a hand of colorless flame. You reach in. Find that chain, that metaphorical binding. See how it works. So simple. You already have an idea for a spell.

For that, you are forgiven.

And you see it leave him like a physical thing. Five thousand years of rage. Of anger. Of hate. A cause- maybe justified, maybe not- but an impossible price finally met. The emerald eyes flicker and the glow fades, and you hear the grinding not subside- but lessen. The grinding of the entire demon city lessen.

The sword of the Devil Tyrant stabs into the ground, and the teeth grind together. Elsewhere opens behind him, and Autochthon walks out.

"Your Majesty," he says with a bow, "May we-"

The Devil Tyrant buries his fist in the Encounter Suit's head, and it falls lifeless to the ground.

Speak.



You explained as much as you could- the other Engine of Extinction, Hunhow, the reason you were in Hell, and the ambush of the Ebon Dragon. Your gestahlt separated, the Devil Tyrant listened in silence and only nodded. You explained about the conversation with Jupiter- that the Yozi were fated to be free, but how was not determined. But you wanted to work with the Yozi to ensure that their freedom was not at the expense of the rest of existence.

When you finished, the Devil Tyrant nodded. Your words had an effect. But his poker face, his own stoicism, was too great to pierce with your own eyes. Instead, he only beckoned Ruvelia forward, and they talked in silence for long moments. There was an agreement- one you would ask about later- and then she returned to your side.

The Great Maker obeys you.

"Yes." You could be sarcastic about it, but that's probably not a good idea.

Bring him forth.

You nod, taking the bracelet from Ray. Elsewhere opens, and the more human sized Autochthon emerges. He bows, and then looks up.

"Your Majesty. I have come to parlay." He extends a hand. Extends a finger. "As you did against Mardukth, I hereby challenge your rule."

The three eyes of the Devil Tyrant turn to you. The brass hands grip the sword tightly, and you nod. Shoulders sweep back and the wings unfurl.

I accept your challenge. As the challenged party, I declare this a contest of Champions. Should you prevail, Great Maker, you shall be the King of the Yozi. Should I, what shall I receive?

"My bended knee and more."

What else do you wager?

The Great Maker glances at you. You roll your hand, nodding. He's not getting out of this one.

"I will bequeath upon you the title of King of All Craftsmen, and gift unto you a new Dreamer. An Ishavara that may be on the cusp of becoming something like us."

There is long silence. Ray coughs.

Your terms are accepted. Exalted. As the master of Autochthon, I hereby ask of you a task.

You nod. "This will help future relations?"

Greatly. This is a contest of champions. Autochthon will provide his own. I require you to bring mine, for I may not leave the Demon City or the Eternal Desert that confines it.

You nod. "And who is your champion?"

My child.

And with a flickering, fluttering of wings, the Devil Tyrant is gone. You finally exhale, leaning on your staff. Then nearly jump out of your skin at the Ebon Dragon's head laughing.

[ ]Figure out what to do with the Ebon Dragon.

[ ]Find out why the smug bastard's laughing first.

[ ]Figure out who Malfeas' child is.

[ ]Leave him- he's defeated and humiliated and you don't have time for this shit.

[ ]Head to the Infernal Estates. You're kind of curious.

[ ]Write in.​

 

[GreggHL]

So as the best demonologist in Creation, we know a few things. Two in particular, regarding Malfeas and his price.

First;

Malfeas will agree to a champion that is better than Autochthon's champion, but not so much better as to call into question the validity of the outcome. This is because of his arrogance, but also because he is the challenged party, and because he is the sitting King, and the King is always in a position of power. Autochthon has yet to make requests for his champion, but we would be careful to make sure that if Malfeas' champion is King Arthur with a Magic Sword and Blessed Armor, Autochthon's champion is not Voltron.

Second;

'Child of Malfeas' is a broad category. A literal- and best- descriptor is applied to the Unconquered Sun. But additionally, this may refer to Malfean demon blooded, Slayer-caste Infernals, possibly Ligier or Ruvelia, that Manse if we ever find out about it, and even thematic children like great kings. But additionally, if we were to go for Full Power Infinite Justice level interpretation, we can remember that Rulership+Law=Hierarchy.

So in essence, 'Child of Malfeas' may also apply to She Who Lives in Her Name, and if she were asked to defend Malfeas' throne from a challenge by Autochthon, she would be all over that shit.

 

[GreggHL]

[X]Figure out what to do with the Ebon Dragon.


The Dragon was laughing. You really didn't like that, because if the Dragon was laughing, the smug bastard had something up his sleeve. You narrow your eyes, stepping in front of the others, and wait for the laughter to die down.

Theion said, "He will call me Father." And I said, "He will call me Master."

Ray swears under her breath. "So is Malfeas' child the Unconquered Sun?" Sky asks.

You narrow your eyes, tapping your staff on the brass floor. The Dragon's head as shrunk- his shadowed self reduced, but once more whole. Easily fitting within the plaza, curled up like a smug, shitty serpent.

(Int+Occult, 15 dice, +6 autosuccesses, 16 successes)

You snort and smile. "No." You shrug, tapping your staff, and the pustular yellow eyes glare at you. "Malfeas is prideful, direct, and not subtle. If he had already decided his champion was the Unconquered Sun, he would have told us. And yes, maybe we could convince him to fight for Malfeas."

You point the hearthstone at the Dragon.

"If we did, it wouldn't be because of some hurtful truth you used to lead us along by the nose."

Autochthon coughs. "We cannot kill him."

You nod. "Doing so would kill Mara, Erembour, countless other demons we've allied with, befriended-" The wind leaves your sails and you turn to your bound Primordial. "But that's not why you said that."

A faint burst of steam from the red grill. "When I examined Hatachi's exaltation, I saw she had learned the charms of the Ebon Dragon, in addition to the Silent Wind and the Black Boar. The Exaltation preserves those charms. As long as they are there, they exist and they cannot die."

He strokes his chin. "Perhaps I should barter for one. Such guarantees are useful."

The Dragon claps, slowly. Sarcastically.

Excellent, excellent oh hobbled kin. I must say, seeing how we've perverted your works once again, you're being remarkably level headed.

The Dragon leans forward, cradling his head on both hands.

Remember that time you completely lost it and had your unstoppable weapons murder a good dozen and one of us?

Autochthon tilts his head. "You have been defeated. Why taunt me now, of all times?"

Because fuck you, that's why.

You rub the bridge of your nose. You can't kill him. Not just because you don't want to kill your friends, but because he literally found a way to not die. Well, then what do you do?

"Do we just leave him, then?" Ray asks.

Then, inspiration hits you. You smile. "No. Autochthon, Unity of the Closed Fist." You begin shaping the spell, and Autochthon places a hand on your shoulder. "Traveler, lock him down."

The Dragon opens his mouth to protest, and the beamklave impales itself through his throat, nailing it to the ground. Fifteen seconds to shape, to form, to caste. The sunlight can be seen for miles- and joins lightning and crystal, the elemental essence of the Great Maker as your powers join with his knowledge.


[enter search terms]

[seal of 8 divinities]

[accessing]


You see it- you know it- you understand it. A Primordial Working. But the Primordial Workings are themselves known by the Exalted by another term.

Sorcery.

You extend a hand upwards, and pure, white autochthonian essence lances into the sky. You search your knowledge with machine efficiency- do you need to know the name?

No. No, you do not. You design it, you shape it, you know it.

Thirteen bolts of white lightning strike around the Ebon Dragon. Yellow eyes snap open and the Shadow knows fear.

No. No no no no!

You recite a symmetrical equation and make a prayer to Advaitra Iraivan. Beneath the Dragon, the brass recedes and the absent white of the antitime and nonplace casts its pale glow. Black claws dig into brass. Yellow eyes go wide with panic.

I will not be contained! I will not be defined!

He tries to struggle. Throws off Traveler and pushes himself free. White bands of empty lightning wrap around him from Elsewhere, and pull him, the stronger and tighter the more he thrashes. Protests become empty screams, his claws shallow furrows in the brass around him.

With a final protest and curse, the light pulls him in and the brass slams shut. At thirteen equidistant points, a number burns in lightning and Old Realm. You walk, ending the gestalt and separating from Autochthon, as the center of the new seal births a brass serpent. A perfect, but molded and defined replica of the Ebon Dragon's jouten, who roars in rage and lunges at you.

Sky catches it in one hand, for it is only three inches long.

"You bitch." His insults are like music to your ears. "What did you do?"

"I call it the Seal of Thirteen Demons." You gesture to the symbols around you. "It's a very imperfect prison. And, it can only be opened from this side."

You take the serpent, and lazily turn around, spinning around to let the brass serpent see his second prison. When you finish, he is sputtering in rage, and with trembling lips and wide eyes he growls,

"I despise you."

You smile. "Say it slower you slut."

You then open up your Infinite Resplendence Amulet and toss the brass serpent in. It closes, and you idly twirl your staff, turning to your compatriots. Ligier nods, and bows, visibly impressed. Ray glances between Sky and Shell, and then raises a hand.

"What?"

"The brass serpent is technically the prison," you explain, "He can escape anytime he wants. Into the Elsewhere prison. Which is held by this." You point down at the Seal itself.

"You said it was imperfect," Shell adds.

"The Dragon can escape from a perfect prison, so I made the key to unlocking it very simple," you explain, and gesture at the numbers around you, "You have to have all thirteen of the Ebon Dragon's subsouls stand on those spots, turn their backs to each other, and say with total sincerity that they want to open the seal."

Autochthon claps. Not sarcastically at all. As does Traveler.

"Don't all of the Dragon's subsouls hate him?" Sky asks.

"Most of them. A few of them don't, but they hate the others." You shrug, leaning on your staff.

Ray snickers. "You mean all of them. So, in order for him to get free-" She gestures at the spot at the front. The one with the lowest number in Old Realm. "His Fetich would have to be, y'know, revealed."

"And such knowledge is known only to the Yozi," you say, smiling, "Lesson? Don't fuck with the demonologist. What's next?"

[ ]Go to Oramus and have Autochthon look at his prison.

[ ]Go visit Mara and steal Hunhow's shadow.

[ ]Head back to Creation and use Servant of Ineffable Location to locate Hunhow.

[ ]Visit the Infernal Estates.

[ ]Write in.

A/N: The Ebon Dragon's Jouten has now been imprisoned behind the Seal of the Thirteen Demons. For him to be released, all thirteen of his subsouls must agree to stand on the spots corresponding to their place in his soul hierarchy, turn their backs to each other, and declare in sincerity that he should be freed.

The Seal also creates a 3" brass serpent in the likeness of the Ebon Dragon's jouten, which is identified by All Encompassing Sorcerer's Sight as a 5-dot artifact similar to a Golden Asp. Except, instead of advising its owner to greatness, it has the personality of the Ebon Dragon. It is also unbreakable and hence would make an excellent bludgeon.​

 

[GreggHL]

[X]Go to Oramus and have Autochthon look at his prison.
-[X]As you go, discuss with Autochthon why he needs to barter for an Infernal Exaltation. Can't he make a new one, specifically customized for his purposes? Or modify an existing one maybe? Open his charms to alchemicals? Or use ones created in the Orrery?


You sent an Infallible Messenger to Mara on where you will be going, and asked her to meet you there. While she could travel by shadows and other such bullshit magic, you would take the long way to Oramus' prison- in this case, an Agatae-crafted airship of Ligier's design which he pilots between the shells of the Demon City.

Naturally there was a spacious common room in the ship, in which you got down to investigating the questions nagging at the back of your mind. First of which was why the Ebon Dragon had thirteen subsouls. Most information said twelve, but there was always a non-zero chance that information was false, considering who it was about.

"So why do you need to barter for an Infernal Exaltation?" Autochthon idly works on a brass eye with filigree wings, standing at a table at the center of the room. "Can't you make a new one?"

The facet eyes rotate. "The circumstances where I created the seven hundred exaltations- the ones I gave to the Incarnae to catalyze and empower- no longer exist. Even still, the depths of madness I descended into, the mania I embraced, to create them, are not-" He stares down at the brass eye. The wings on it flutter. "Safe. It would be better to work with what exists than the risks taken to create more."

"You can't open your charm tree to the Alchemicals? Or use one from the Orrery?"

Autochthon shakes his head. The brass eye flies off, flickering off through an open window and into the demon city. "The Alchemical Exaltations are fragile in comparison to the one you hold. Even should the Champion be able to contain my charms, they will be marked by those who would do me harm. The exaltations of the Orrery are limited, and could not contain the full extent of my themes."

He looks down at his hand- at his encounter suit's hand. "It is interesting. Fascinating. I created them as weapons of vengeance. But perhaps they can finally banish the fear of my own demise." He waves, and the work table disappears. "Truly impressive work. I will be in Elsewhere should you need my help analyzing Oramus."

With that, the brass giant vanishes in a burst of white. You shrug, and walk over to the crescent couch where the first circle demons are fanning Ruvelia as she sips her tea.

"Sorcerer?"

"We have an eclipse caste," you explain, pulling up a seat and sitting across from her, "Would you be willing to teach your charms to him? And if so, for what?"

Ruvelia nods, setting her cup down. "Good. I did have a favor to ask of you." She raises a finger, and the demons back away, disappearing into opening holes in the wall around them. "When we were in the Loom, I studied the fate of this world's Ruvelia. Hers was a death of inches. First her subsouls, then her."

You nod.

"However, not all of them were destroyed," she explains, "Some were repurposed. I wish to find them."

You blink. "Why?"

Ruvelia shrugs. "A case-by-case basis. Some freed, some destroyed. It depends on what state they are currently in. I only know the location of one of them so far, but from there we would be able to track down the others."

You tap your fingers. "Okay. Who is it and where are they?"

"My- that is, this Ruvelia's Warden Soul. He was remade into a behemoth, and was last seen as one of the guardian behemoths of Opal Spire."

You lean back, folding your arms. "I know about Opal Spire, but I never read anything about any of the guardians being one of your second circles."

"How much have you read about me?"

She had a point. "Not much at all. But, history's written by the victors." You feel the faint tingle of transitioning shell layers. "So now that you've met Malfeas, how does he compare to Tiferet?"

"There can be no comparison." Ruvelia sips her tea. "Malfeas is. Tiferet is. They are as different as can be."

You tilt your head. "You don't talk about Tiferet. What is he like? She like?"

She stares at her tea. Looks into it. "Theion was power and will. I represent power. Ligier represents will. Remove me and the will remains and hardens. Thus, what was colorless flame without limit becomes a near infinite city."

The blue flame shapes in her hands. A silhouette of Malfeas pops, and becomes a rotating monolith. "Remove Ligier, and the Will is gone. There is only the power."

You can see it, clearly. An opposite, to Malfeas. Not better, but different. "Tiferet has no will? No identity?"

Ruvelia nods. "Tiferet is. It is power, and power is Tiferet. The best comparison, I think, would be the Ebon Dragon. The Dragon does not form more than one Jouten, for it is against his themes."

You rub your hands together. Oh, this is goooood. "And because Tiferet doesn't have any themes other than power, it doesn't have any joutens other than that monolith."

Ruvelia nods. "Hence why it is not insane, as it has no mind to drive mad. Which also should be kept in mind if you entertain the idea of somehow merging Tiferet and Malfeas."



The trip was uneventful, save for the occasional discussion of alternate demonology and more information about Ruvelia's world. Mara appeared from a shadow aboard the ship soon enough, taking the binding pearl Homkora made and quickly confirming that Hunhow was not in Malfeas- there was no shadow in this realm to steal. She did accept a binding to travel to Creation and steal the Minister of Consumption's shadow there, however.

But the ship approaches the immense funnel. At least, from a distance it appears to be a funnel. Massive enough to be landscape at this distance, as the ship gets closer and you stand on the bow, you see the leather, the bones and flesh and features of the constrained wings.

The airship approaches Oramus, and you watch. Standing upon the bow, your vision shifting to the Sorcerer's Sight, you stare upon the wings. Looking to see how they are made. What they are. Burning your own conviction to see more, to know more-

(Int+Occult, 19 dice +6 autosuccesses, 20 successes)

You remember.

You remember the Dragon's wings folded around him. Standing atop the great fortress, and the two allies in their immense forms staring upon the broken Old Dragon, forcing his wings around him as the suture ships did their work- not letting him unmake, not letting him redefine, for he was under their sight.

You blink. You smile.

You turn from the bow and walk over to a table that had been set up on the deck, leaning your staff against it and looking across it to find Ligier standing, waiting.

"Are you going to summon Autochthon to help analyze the prison?"

"I don't think I need to," you say, "I think I know how it works."

Ligier nods.

"Oramus is the expert of what is and is not. But the way something goes from possibility to certainty is by being observed. So when Oramus was imprisoned, he was also put in a position where he would constantly be observed."

The Green Sun cocks an eyebrow. "Then if I were to order every demon in all of Hell to cast their eyes from the Old Dragon, would he be free?"

You shake your head. Raise a finger. Then shake your head again. "No. Oramus is still observing his prison. When the Primordials agreed to the Surrender Oaths, did they cede authority?"

Ligier nods.

"Then I think I know how to change the prison," you say with a smile, "We need a Primordial observational tool to declare that the wings aren't closed around him."

You smile wider. "We need the Eye of Autochthon."

[ ]Pray to Daendels and negotiate terms for modifying the prison.

[ ]Go to Yu Shan first, and negotiate terms for modifying the prison.

[ ]Find the Eye of Autochthon.

[ ]Write in.​

 

[GreggHL]

[X] Sleep and use Autochthon's Summoning Bell to summon Daendals and The Unconquered Sun into the Dream to negotiate terms for modifying the prison.


You explained to Autochthon what you found out, and made two quick prayers- burning a prayer strip to the Sun, and to Daendels requesting guidance regarding the situation with Oramus. After confirming with the Great Maker that you were right- and that you had come upon these conclusions without him needing to guide you- you retired for the night as the ship made its way towards the Endless Desert.

You 'woke' on a platform floating above a familiar grassland. The platform is brass, as are the three chairs. All of this part of your bound Primordial's dream, and you can see the finger-mountains in the distance, and upon the table is the bell.

"I can't summon Daendels with the bell, right?"

No. The bell works by arcane links. The geass that the Primordials hold upon the gods serves as one. Your intimacies, your connections, work as one. You have no such link to the Unfettered Heart, but he did receive your prayer.

You nod. You look up, and sitting across from you is you. Or at least a reflection of you. Perfectly mirrored, too.

"Sorcerer," Daendels says.

You nod in greeting. Then take the bell and ring it. "I summon the Unconquered Sun."

Sunlight shines down in the other seat, and the familiar song plays. The seat- simple brass- becomes an ornate golden throne. Holding in one hand a goblet of sumptuous liquid, the Lord of Heaven appears. Raised above them, shining with his own light and brighter than the gemstone eye that provides the illumination of this dream world.

Greetings, Ignis Divine.

"Autochthon." The Sun nods to you. "Ebeli. And Daendels."

The Fetich of the Dragon Beyond the World bows.

You tent your fingers on the table and clear your throat.

"You sent me the prayer asking for guidance," the Sun says, "And did not clarify as to what. But, I am here."

You nod. "Two things. Autochthon has challenged Malfeas for his throne. Malfeas has agreed to the challenge and declared a contest of champions, and charged my circle with finding his champion. He referred to his champion as his child."

The Sun nods, face passive. Daendels raises an eyebrow.

"The Ebon Dragon suggested Malfeas was referring to you. However, Malfeas is blunt and not subtle, so if he was going to ask for you only, he would have said so."

"He only said his child?" the Sun asks.

You nod. "I am correct in presuming that you would not fight for Malfeas?"

"Yes." The Sun is silent for a moment. "However, if a champion of sufficient might is found for Malfeas, I would stand for Autochthon as his champion. There were rumors of great upheavals in the Demon City. I presume you were the cause of some of them?"

You nod.

"I approve." The Sun turns to Daendels. "Why are you here, Unfettered Heart?"

"I am curious, myself." Daendels tents his hands in front of his face, waiting. You crack your knuckles. Might as well go for the gold.

"Is there a procedure for releasing a Yozi from Malfeas?"

You can't read the Sun. You can never read his expression. His own perfection, his own grace and light and beauty are too much for even your eyes to see past. But you believe at that moment you actually caught him off guard.

"Oramus and Daendels were invaluable in helping us understand the Well of Udr. Without them, we wouldn't have found Ruvelia, and wouldn't have met Ligier's price, and wouldn't have saved Autochthon. Every other Exalt who's made a deal with Daendels has screwed him over, but I think-"

The Sun raises a hand.

"You wish to free Oramus."

"I wish to free him from his wings," you explain with a shrug, "And if he is freed from his wings, then Malfeas can't hold him. He is the expert on inside and outside."

The Sun nods. "The only greater an authority on escape would be the Ebon Dragon. But even as beneficial as Oramus has been, releasing even one of the Yozi into Creation would be disastrous."

Daendels leans back, puffing a lock of hair out of his eyes. You lean forward instead. "The Yozi are fated to be free. That's what Jupiter said. But the how and why of these things are up in the air. Wouldn't it be better for them to know it's possible to earn their freedom, even in degrees? Especially if we can put your ally- Autochthon- on Malfeas' throne?"

The Sun folds his arms. He glances between you, and Daendels.

"Releasing Oramus, at into the Wyld, would occupy the Raksha."

"And since the gods aren't geassed to the Yozi, he could take an oath to keep clear of Creation and Yu Shan, with the understanding of consequences if he attempted to return."

You both turn to Daendels. He, on the other hand, is easy to read. Absolute, utter shock that you are seriously discussing the possibility of releasing Oramus.

"I will discuss this with the Dragon Beyond the World," Daendels says.

"I will discuss this with the rest of the Incarnae," the Sun says, "Thank you for bringing this to my attention."

And the dream ends.



You woke rested, as the ship cleared the gates and set course over Cecelyne. Autochthon had been once more summoned from Elsewhere, and you set about discussing the outcome of the dream.

"So we might be able to sell Oramus being released into the Wyld," you explain to your circle and entourage, "It'll take some time for the Incarnae to reach a decision on this, but I think I know how to undo the prison. I didn't tell Daendels."

"Hence why he wasn't racing for the gates," Mara quips, standing on the opposite side of the sitting room from Autochthon, "I imagine I may have competition for demonic best friend now."

Sky raises a hand. "So, you think you can free him with the Eye of Autochthon. Why can't we just get one of Autochthon's other eyes?"

"It would be faster to find my eye in Creation than to search my World Jouten for my other eyes," the encounter suit says, idly hammering something into shape, "My humanform Jouten would possibly do but I still can't find it. Maybe it is in the Sword of Creation?"

You nod. "You said you could see out of it? Where is the Eye?"

Autochthon nods, places down his hammer, and looks straight ahead. "Yes, it's...it's...it's moving! It's...not moving on its own. Yes. Yes, it's in someone's hands."

Ray lets out a long, drawling, "Shiiiiiiit."

"Someone has the Eye of Autochthon," Sky mutters, "Do you see where it is? Who has it?"

"Somewhere in the North, it seems." The Great Maker scratches his head. "Possibly in someplace with the Wyld. I could have sworn I saw a unicorn. But it should be easy to track."

You rub the bridge of your nose. "Right. Well, in any case- if we can convince the Incarnae to let us free Oramus, we can then have Oramus get us an Ishvara for your contest."

The facet eyes rotate. "We do not need to go into the Wyld to retrieve one."

You look up. You hear the crick in your neck when you snap your eyes up and meet the Great Maker's gaze. "I'm sorry?"

"There was an Ishvara inside the Terrestatic Replicator Zone inside the Pole of Crystal. It was used to ensure that my sleeping state experienced constructive dreams and arrested the spread of Nullspace."

Everyone. Everyone. Turns to the Great Maker. Your knuckles turn white around your staff.

"There was a materials shortage in Autochthonia and you had a raksha as a sleep aid?"

Your voice is...quiet. Very, very quiet. You can feel Ku's powerbase rising. The Great Maker, for his part, does not visibly cower.

"There was one. It is no longer there." A burst of steam escapes the red hot grill. "Before he escaped from the Pole of Crystal, Hunhow absconded with it."

You close your eyes, count to ten, and resolve to belt Autochthon across the face with your staff. You make it to five before Shell punches him.

[ ]Ask Autochthon why you are now hearing about the Ishvara being stolen while also letting Shell punch him.

[ ]Ask Autochthon why you are now hearing about the Ishvara being stolen while keeping Shell from punching him.

[ ]Let Shell continue to punch him. On the minus side, it may make him angry. On the plus said, maybe it will make him angry enough to make a new Exaltation.

[ ]Write in.

 

[GreggHL]

[X]Ask Autochthon why you are now hearing about the Ishvara being stolen while keeping Shell from punching him.
-[X]Point out that due to his lack of planning fellow creators were running out of tools and materials to make anything and their ingenuity and dogmatic rationing wouldn't have been enough to keep them alive for much longer.


That punch was from Shell's left hand. You quickly plug your ears before the tell-tale metallic shriek precedes her built in charm blasting off a good chunk of the Encounter Suit's mouth-grill. Autochthon stumbles back- partly from force, partly from shock. After all, it was one of his Champions, one of his devoted who has just struck him. And in anger, no less!

"Shell!" You see your circle sister bringing her left hand back for another swing. Ray moves first, grabbing Shell in a headlock and pulling her away. The Great Maker brings his hand up. A tool of some sort folds out of the hand and he begins repairing the damage, facet eyes fixed and wide.

"Why are we now hearing that an Ishvara was stolen?" you ask.

"It was not a priority." Straight. To the point. It is shock! You may have to have Shell punch him in the future. It could save you trouble. But still!

"You know, having a source of Wyld onboard and not telling anyone is one of the reason your fellow craftsmen were running out of materials to make anything," you add, "Their dogmatic rationing and ingenuity wasn't going to keep you alive much longer!"

The Great Maker says nothing. No justification. No rejoinder.

"We fought wars over resources," Shell seethes, "Children have been born stillborn because there haven't been enough souls." She pulls herself out of Ray's grip, fists clenched. "You had the ability to avert all that, and you didn't because you wanted pleasant dreams?"

His repairs done, he lowers his hand. And speaks. "In the Tome of the Great Maker, it says that there is little differentiation between idiocy and inhumanity. By your definition, I am either an idiot, or a monster. Perhaps both."

Shell's retort dies on her lips.

"I could blame those that advised my course of actions. But my Divine Ministers are a part of me. Short sighted, argumentative, hyperfocused. But each of them an aspect of my persona. As such, it was I who elected to withhold the information of the Ishvara, for such a creature is of the utmost danger to any who would misuse it."

You raise a hand, sighing. "Right. You indicated to Malfeas that it could become a Primordial?"

"Perhaps. I had experimented on it extensively. It was on the cusp of some change, finding a new chapter to its story. Perhaps becoming a Dreamer. Perhaps something else."

You rub the bridge of your nose. "And what could Hunhow do with an Ishvara?"

Ray answers that one, but she has a pet Raksha. "An Ishvara? What couldn't he do? They're one step down from a Shinma at that point. Especially if they're suggestible."

"I'm still not convinced the Shinma aren't something the Raksha didn't make up because they wanted Primordials of their own."

You nod. "It does fit the Raksha." You fold your arms. "So, anything. A key to the Sword of Creation. A lost heir to the Realm. A weapon of unfathomable power."

"Possible." Autochthon hums. "I will consult. And leave this in your hands."

And with that, Autochthon vanishes back into Elsewhere.



You received more information on the way back. The Alchemical Exalted that was working with Bijar was an Adamant Caste named Locus of Many Disciples, and was under the direction of Kadmek. Thankfully not one of the ones that Hunhow compromised, and not an apostate. The Breakthrough that he entered was one in the Pole of Oil- hence why no one was aware of it.

Shell remained quiet for the rest of the trip- the idea that her god had kept quiet about something that could have solved the resource shortages that marred her long, long life was...disconcerting to say the least. Ruvelia took time to assure Shell on her views, though.

Upon exiting the Endless Desert, Mara made the black circles on the deck of the airship, circling it the ritualized number of times. At the center of the circles lies the pearl of the binding of Orabillis- the arcane link to Hunhow.

The Shadow Dancer, Defining Soul of Erembour, the one who pulled back the veil of Sorcery to the Exalted in the early days of Creation, chants her spell and complete the ritual.

From the center of the glowing rings, a shadow rises. Bound, it turns to Mara's extended hand. You stand next to your friend, and nod.

"Speak, Shadow," Mara commands, "You are bound. Of who's shadow are you? Who serves the Minister of Consumption?"

This one is named Thousand-Faceted Nelumbo. She serves the Minister. In return, he has enlightened her.

"How has he enlightened her?" you ask.

He gifts her with the blossom of the Perfected Lotus.

Well that's nice and ominous. "And what is her destination, Shadow? What does she seek?"

She seeks the Dragon that Ends the World.

Nice and ominous. But you remember that there were three- a woman, a man, and a serpent. So where are the other two who bound themselves to Hunhow?

[ ]Ask about the other servants. The shadow may not know directly, as it can only answer questions about the person it is the shadow of.

[ ]Ask about the Dragon that Ends the World. What Direction is that in?

[ ]It's a shadow. Well, there's always the worst option: Pull the Ebon Dragon out of your Infinite Resplendence Amulet and have him interrogate the shadow.

[ ]Write in.

 

[GreggHL]

[X]Ask about the Dragon that Ends the World. What Direction is that in?


"The Dragon that Ends the World. Where is that? What Direction?"

You fold your arms, furrowing your brow. Is that Oramus? Or the Ebon Dragon? No, because Hunhow is in Creation, and the Yozi are in Malfeas. This is a Dragon in Creation. You rub the bridge of your nose and turn to Mara.

"What about the other servants? Does it know where they are?"

"No," Mara says, "Or at least, it's not compelled to say."

"Do you think the Ebon Dragon could compel an answer?"

Mara tches. "Grandfather could compel an answer, but would you trust an answer from him?"

"Fair point." You pace back and forth, pace around the circle. The rest of the group are inside- it is late, and this was a demonology thing so you left it in your and Mara's hands. "So where are they?"

"Sand, Earth, Water, Snow or Wood, shadow?"

We travel water.

(Int+Lore, 12 dice +6 autosuccesses, 13 successes)

Water? That implies West. Traveling through the West. The Dragon that Ends the World, in the West. What dragon could they mean?

Oh.

Oh dear. You have a very good idea what that means.

You turn to Mara. Elementals aren't your specialty, but you made it a point to study the summoning of Elementals with Peak. You did come across the concept of the Greater Elemental Dragons, and in particular one elemental dragon- one sleeping in the distant west.

"Oh gods."

The End Dragon. The Roll of Glorious Divinity in Yu Shan told the tale of four thousand years ago, when the Unconquered Sun bound a great beast beneath the West, appointing twelve hardened elementals to watch it until the day that civilization itself was no more. Then, it would rise and scour the land. From its wake, new growth would emerge, fresh and vibrant that neither death or chaos could find purchase upon.

"The Kukla."

Mara dismisses the Shadow. "That's bad. That's, 'Grandfather has an actual plan' bad."

You quickly nod. "Awakening the Kukla pretty much destroys Creation. From what Hunhow said, that's the plan. Thankfully, first he would have to get past the Kukla's twelve guardians."

"He's a Divine Minister infected with Void Cancer, who's apparently bound to a servant with Sidereal Martial Arts. That sounds like odds I wouldn't bet against."

You suck your teeth with a nod. "Okay. We need to figure out a plan."



You quickly told your Circle of what you figured out- Hunhow, or at least the part of him you stole the shadow of, was heading for the Kukla. The problem was, the Kukla's location was secret. Finding where it was would be one thing. Getting there in time, before Hunhow attempted to awaken it was another, and that wasn't counting what other plans he had in motion.

The skyship continues traveling westward- having entered Creation in the North, it begins to pass over Gethamane, heading towards Whitewall.

"So, options?"

"Send prayer missives to the Bureau of Seasons," Ray observes, "Explain the situation. They're in charge of elementals and they'd know where Kukla is."

You nod. "If we're passing Whitewall, we could pick up reinforcements. Matcha could be very helpful," Sky adds, "They do owe us favors for helping fix the city."

A brass, low cough. You turn, and see Autochthon has exited Elsewhere.

"If I may. I do believe we are near the Eye."

You blink. "Seriously?"

You stand up, and point to the map table. The encounter suit walks over, and points to a spot. A spot about fifty miles northwest of Whitewall.

"So that's where the Pearl Court was before Ray fucked them up," you observe, "Some other Raksha might've moved in."

"We could definitely use the Eye," Ray observes, "I mean, if we have to choose between using the Eye and letting the Kukla loose, it's not exactly a good choice, buuuut-"

"Why don't we ask Gaia?"

Everyone turns to Shell.

"I'm sorry?" you ask. Autochthon vanishes back into Elsewhere.

"Why don't we ask Gaia?" Shell repeats, "Isn't she in charge of all Elementals? Can't we ask her to make sure the Kukla doesn't wake up?"

Huh. That's a good point.

[ ]Find the Eye. You're close, it could be useful.

[ ]Pray to the Bureau of Seasons about the situation and see if they can send reinforcements or blessings, or possibly the location of the Kukla.

[ ]Pray to Gaia. Plus side: Best wealth of information. Negative side: You have Gaia's Attention.

[ ]Write in.

 

[GreggHL]

[X]Pray to Gaia. Plus side: Best wealth of information. Negative side: You have Gaia's Attention.
-[X]Find the Eye. You're close, it could be useful.


You nod. You point. "Shell, Ray. Take Shell's colossus form, go to the Pearl Court or whatever's there now, and see if you can get the Eye. We're going to try need some prayer strips so we can contact Gaia to ask about the Kukla."

Ray produces a set of gold strips from her jump suit and hands them off, before grabbing Shell by the elbow and walking her out of the sitting room. You take the strips, hold them up. You write down on them the situation-

You wish to know the location of the Kukla due to the unprecedented situation regarding an otherworldly invasion. Additionally, you graciously request the aid of Gaia in making sure the Kukla remains sleeping against the efforts of this threat, so it may not awaken and shatter Creation.

However.

Glancing between yourself and Sky, you cock an eyebrow. Neither of you are really good at...well, the priesthood thing. You could go up to the bridge and have Ligier send the prayer, as he is excellent in all things. But you also want to make sure that Gaia receives the message.

(Int+Occult, 15 dice, +6 autosuccesses, 16 successes)

So you tap the bracelet. "Need you to do something."

Elsewhere opens. The Encounter Suit, clad in a smock, walks out.

"Yes, Sorcerer?"

You hand the prayer strip to Autochthon. "Burn this prayer strip. It's addressed to Gaia. I need her to pay attention to this, and a prayer addressed to her by the Great Maker will no doubt have her full attention."

The facet eyes rotate. "Very well." The jade coils built into the palm of the suit glow red and the strip burns to ash.



You awaited an answer- the ship continued to Whitewall. Perhaps you could gain the aid of Whitewall's Dawn Caste if you had to face down Hunhow's servant. The ship continued on, and you retired for the night in the sitting room- you and Sky in particular retired on one of the couches to wait for the ship to arrive.

You don't remember making the conscious decision to go to sleep. But apparently, you did.

Because the two of you find yourself sitting on something leathery and shifting, moving like a membrane beneath you. You shoot up, turn, and lock eyes with the eye on the 'armrest' of the couch which stares at you through a nictating membrane before the rest of the Yeddim-sized frog rears up and croaks.

Sky slides off the impromptu seat, hand on Stone Splitter's pommel.

The frog only croaks and hops away, shaking the ground in its passing. You watch- the size of the creature is...beyond what something that requires regular immersion in water and a permeable skin would make possible. So, given as it is a violation of the Square Cube law, it must be magical. Meaning this isn't natural. Or it's just supernatural.

You look around, your sight shifting to essence. Flavors of essence whirl in the world around you- like Creation, but different. Similar. Elemental and alien at the same time.

"Did we eat any mushrooms?" Sky asks, "Or drink anything that had been exposed to Hegra?"

"No, and yes, that usually leads to us having some sort of shared, weird dream." You shrug, and find your staff in your hand. You turn, and a tree uproots itself in the forest surrounding you, walking out of the way and clearing a path of dirt and stone.

Taking the hint, you walk- you and Sky walk along the narrow, natural path through the living forest. You'd think it was demonic, but the trees are natural- green leaves, wood bark. Except they're alive, but they're not assholes. So no Kings of the Woods.

The air invigorates you- filled with life. You don't tire, despite the hours that seem to pass when you walk. The path leads to a lake, and on the other side of it is what you know is your destination. But there are no paths. No lily pads. No bridges, and you can feel eyes upon you.

Waiting for how you act.

So you take off your shoes and step on the water. You feel that it is more than just water- it is filled with life. Microbes. Sea life. Plankton. So full that it is a surface for you to walk across, and it supports your weight even without magic, even without charms. You and Sky walk across, confident in this world, in this dream or vision quest.



The path leads to a canyon- formed of jade, white jade. Purer than any you have ever seen. Canyon walls rise in sections, like a coliseum. Slowly, animals fill the seats. Some familiar, if odd. Varied fowl and farm animals, dressed and upright. Not elementals, but uplifted or aliens.

Some truly alien. Things too big for Creation. Things too strong for Creation. The question still burns at the back of your mind- where is this? What is this? You have a very strong suspicion, so you tap your bracelet.

"Get out here."

Elsewhere opens, and Autochthon walks out. The audience gasps. As does Autochthon, who's facet eyes go wide before he promptly hides behind Sky. His encounter suit folds in on itself into a floating ball, hovering behind your husband, and you turn to the direction that the ball is pointing at.

You blink.

"That's Luna," Sky says.

You nod. "And she's eating popcorn."

Well, fuck it. You reach into your infinite resplendence amulet and pull out the brass serpent. "Where are we?"

The brass effigy of the Ebon Dragon looks around, and cackles. And then says something completely true.

"You're on Pangaea."

The ground rumbles.

Are you strong?

Well that's...not a good question?

"We're Solar Exalted," Sky says, unsheathing his sword, "We are."

That which is strong, survives. That which is weak, dies. To speak with Gaia-

The coliseum cheers. The ground erupts. A serpent, with a maw of claws and teeth, trailing acid and stretching into the sky, bursts from the ground.

Prove your strength!

Join Battle:
Behemoth Of Gaia:
The Red Tooth Worm
Ladon

​

[ ]Improvised weapon: Ebon Dragon Bludgeon.

[ ]Kill it with fire: Cast Flight of the Brilliant Raptor

[ ]Giant Robot Time: Cast God Forged Champion of War

[ ]Write in.​

 

[GreggHL]

[X]Improvised weapon: Ebon Dragon Bludgeon.


The immense, veiny, meaty worm dragon thing rises into the air, booming a challenge. Autochthon screams. Sky raises his sword to meet the challenge, and with a flash of gold a full set of plate mail appears over him. In your hand, the Ebon Dragon laughs uproariously.

(Join Battle: Ebeli, 10 dice +5 autosuccesses, 14 successes)

For some reason, for some how, you manage to keep your wits about you. So when you see the Red Tooth Worm diving down upon you, you take the cathartic route. Gripping the tail of the encounter suit, you whirl it. The Ebon Dragon's laughter becomes a stream of garbled curses.

It is an encounter suit- an artifact. Artifacts are many things, and one of them is very durable. Your anima flares into life behind you. You bring the Dragon back. With a cry, you swing.

(Charm use- First Melee Excellency, Hungry Tiger Technique, One Weapon, Two Blows)
(3 attacks- 20 dice)
(Attack 1: 10 successes, 4 past threshold)
(Attack 2: 12 successes, 6 past threshold)
(Attack 3: 7 successes, 1 past threshold)
(22 +3 +1= 24 damage dice)
(9 damage inflicted)

Three times the head of the Ebon Dragon slams into the face of the Red Tooth Worm. Three times the Ebon Dragon's curses and praises are cut short by the ringing gongs and the cheers of the audience. As if knowing what struck him, Ladon rears back. The mandibles twitch and the faint red bruising around its maw gives way to pooling venom.

You raise the serpent.

"You are weak."

"Some sorceress."

"I got this." Sky walks over, pecks you on the lips, and hurls Stone Splitter into the underside of the worm's maw. Its venom splatters over its flesh and sizzles, and he gives you a wave before he vanishes, reappearing holding his blade and holding on for dear life when he- and the worm- crash into the ground.

"Oh." You snap your fingers. "Right, it enlightens with him."

Or he has some new charms which lets him keep with his sword no matter where it is.

The tail of the worm disappears into the hole, and you grip the Ebon Dragon by the neck. Turning, you hold him up and turn to the still cowering sphere of Autochthon. "You two are Universe Titans. Why is this happening?"

"Let's be fair," the Dragon wheezes, "I am a weakling! A base, hidden coward who's knowledge of humanity's motivation comes from the deep sadism hidden in the depths of your souls! And he is Autochthon."

"A fair assessment!"

You swear, Ku has to be swimming in deva pussy by now. The ground shakes but you have all kinds of magic to make that not matter. You take advantage of the relative quiet to whack Autochthon with the Ebon Dragon.

"You! Are! Primordial! Gaia was your Ally! Why are you scared?"

The Ebon Dragon just laughs. You know why. You reach out, clamp the jaws shut, and take advantage of the fact that it's a set, artifact encounter suit to actually shut him up.

"Because it was an alliance of convenience."

Behind you, you can hear the worm crest through the rock and a chunk of the stadium, and Sky assuring you that he's still got this. Bless him, and he's a Dawn Caste, too. He probably does.

"That is correct. Gaia and I have never seen eye to eye."

Hand on your hip, you point the dragon- and your other hand- at the trembling eye. "Right. Gaia thought Creation was a mistake. But you don't. You put too much work into it. You like mortals. If you kept wandering around looking for whatever Gaia's looking for, you'd never make anything permanent."

The eye shifts, side to side. It shifts up and down, approximating a nod. "That is correct. For that, and other reasons, Gaia does hate me."

To that, you roll your eyes. "She hates you because she doesn't understand you. We barely understand ourselves. Thankfully, we have something to alleviate that."

The iris snaps open. The sphere turns to you. "Unity of the Closed Fist with Gaia is a poor idea even by my standards."

You grab the eye. Channel magic. "It's solved just about every problem we've had so far. And you aren't giving me any more options!"

Autochthon coughs. He tries to pull back. Fails. "We're in a fight here. I'm sure my husband can keep that worm occupied for a while, but you need to pull your weight. So you can either keep cowering behind me, or reveal your power."

(Charisma+Presence, 15 dice +4 autosuccesses, 12 successes)

The simple, powerful magic runs through them- through your hands. Through the Dragon and through Autochthon. The Dragon blanches at the very concept of heroism, but the iris narrows. Then shutters open.

"My options are still limited. If not in my Mythos, I would only really be able to truly call upon the full extent of my power either when in my jouten, or under sufficient circumstances-"

"You have your charms, and Primordial Charms are what the Exalted improved upon when we made Sorcery. Give me something to work with!"

The eye makes a sound like sucking teeth. The worm shrieks, and you hear Sky once more assure you he has this under control with less confidence this time.

"Not in an encounter suit. This is but a probe. It is an extension of my awareness. It may as well be a glorified eye!"

Autochthon's iris dilates. Your grip on the sphere tightens. Your lips part in a smile.

"An eye is made to see."

"Oh I should not have said that," Autochthon breathes.

The Ebon Dragon takes a deep breath, prying his snout free.

"Yes! I can confirm I do, indeed, now have an erection."

[ ]Roll Int+Lore at difficulty 10 to use the Encounter Suit like it were the Eye of Autochthon and end the battle.
-[ ]Write in how we shall warp reality.

[ ]Use Unity of the Closed Fist to attempt to merge Gaia and Autochthon's mythos to bring about great understanding. This will require a Charisma+Presence attack on Gaia to convince her to allow this.

[ ]Write in.​

 

[GreggHL]

Apologies for the delay- it was finals week and I have just finished all the grading.
[X]Use Unity of the Closed Fist to attempt to merge Gaia and Autochthon's mythos to bring about great understanding. This will require a Charisma+Presence attack on Gaia to convince her to allow this.


There's a better than likely chance that Autochthon's mythos- which probably lets him warp Creation via the Eye- would have no effect on Pangaea. Or at least, not helpful effect. Go with Plan A, then. You raise up the eye-form of your bound Primordial, and turn to the rumbling to watch Ladon burst from the ground, Sky dropping off and into a crouch.

Your husband flickers and appears in front of you. He swings his sword and catches one of the immense, blood mandibles of the behemoth, driving it into the ground.

"I'm going to try something," you shout, over the cheers of the ground and the rumbling of the earth, "Can you hold off the worm?!"

"I can! With a little help!"

You are about to protest that you're busy. Then, you hear it. Like crackling flame on high, followed by-

"SWALLOWTAIL RAINSTORM! TODAY IS THE DAY I DEFEAT YOU!"

And then Gaist, out of fucking nowhere, drops out of the sky and slams into the crest of Ladon's head.

"How?!" you shout, "How did you get to fucking Pangaea?!"

"A Priest never reveals his secrets!" Gaist drives one flame claw into one of Ladon's eyes, and the worm bucks with the Anglok riding it with a yell and prayer to the Sun.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, turn from the battle-turned-clusterfuck, and raise up the eye.

"Gaia! Hear me!"

This is not the craziest thing you've done. Maybe. But you summon your staff in your other hand and raise it high, even as the worm slams into the ground behind you.

"You hate him! You hate him because you do not understand him! But I offer you a chance! Because we mortals understand that hate, for we barely understand ourselves!"

You gather the essence into the tip of the staff, using it as a focus. "We build walls between us! We craft our own mythos! We separate ourselves from each other, keeping ourselves at arms length! But you, Primordial, gave the Exalted the tools to break down those walls!"

Sunlight gathers and flows through the staff. The mechanical iris flits between you, the coliseum, and the ground beneath.

"So I offer you a chance to let down your walls, Gaia! Because through Unity there is Strength! Through Strength, we Evolve! And through evolution, we become something more!"

And you slam the staff to the ground.

"I invoke the Unity of the Closed Fist!"

(Charisma+Presence, 15 dice, 14 successes through ISS)

You feel- an acceptance. An acknowledgment. A hand on your shoulder tinged with silver as the golden light washes over Pangaea. The world fades into shadow and dust and the merging of perspectives, and you float- weightless, formless, but still defined as yourself in the ether.

You float, alongside Sky, alongside Gaist, alongside Autochthon, alongside...

Alongside Luna.

"Nice speech," the Incarnae of the Moon says.

You look around, scan around. "Did Gaia accept?"

Luna nods. "I don't see her," you add. Luna smiles.

You shrug and turn to Gaist, leveling a finger at the Anglok. "You. How did you get to Pangaea?"

"The Sun sent me." Gaist folds his arms, letting his statement hang. "He and I are close. He owed me a favor."

Your mouth hangs open. You shake your head, and then pinch the bridge of your nose with a sigh. "Right. That. Okay." Exhaling, you look around. Up. Down. Autochthon unfolds himself into his encounter suit. Sky sheathes his sword. "Where is Gaia?" you ask.

"She's right here," Luna says with a grin, "Good idea, having the Great Maker send the prayer strip. That got her attention."

"But where is she?" You look around. Spin around in the darkness of the gestalt. "Is this her being angry? Because of what happened in Malfeas?"

Luna is in front of you in that moment. She grins, and Sky is next to you, his sword- still in scabbard- between the two of you.

"Oh, relax," Luna says with a purr that works down your spine, "Why would she be mad? Is it about you wanting to free Oramus?"

You quickly nod.

"You already told me about that," Luna says, and floats back, "In truth, I care not if you free all the Yozi. Only that you take responsibility for your actions and know the consequences."

You exhale. Sky clips the scabbard back on his belt. "So where is Gaia, then?" Sky asks.

You think- what do you know about Gaia? What is there that stands out about her?

(Int+Lore, 15 dice +6 autosuccesses, 12 successes)

Oh, right. The only thing more terrifying to the gods of Yu Shan than the return of Autochthon is the Return of Gaia. Because she's an undiminished Primordial. "Hello, Gaia?"

Greetings, Sorcerer.

Twin suns illuminate the darkness. You feel the darkness around you become defined- not by darkness, but by the over abundance of everything that now fills it. Not darkness lacking light, but darkness of saturation. The endless growth and consumption that is her.

The face- a face of mountains and trees and elements, human but from great distance, forms in the darkness of the overgrowth, and you stare into the gaze of Gaia.

"Hello." You wave. "An enemy of Creation is planning to destroy it using the Greater Elemental Dragon of Earth. We would like to request that you keep it asleep and tell us where it is so we can stop them."

No.

You blink.

"No?"

What do I care about Creation, Sorcerer? Were you not paying attention when we last talked? What do I care of the Primordial's mistake?

Oh. Well, you're just going to have to convince her, aren't you? How?

[ ]Appeal to her duty as the remaining, undiminished Primordial. Her themes, her subsouls, are tied into Creation. If it is destroyed, will that not diminish her?

[ ]Appeal to love. Luna was created to guard Creation- if Creation was a mistake, was Luna a mistake? And if Luna is dedicated to protecting Creation, how can Gaia so readily abandon it?

[ ]Write in.​