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

[GreggHL]

[X]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?


You address omnipotence. You know to tread carefully. Of course, careful is for mortals, and you are exalted. So you grab the Incarnae of the Moon by the crook of her arm and step forward.

"Creation was a mistake? Is Luna a mistake as well? Because she was made to protect Creation."

The twin suns dim- narrow, not dim. Focus, like lasers. Maaaaaaaybe not the best choice of words. "Technically I was made to protect Creation from the Sun," Luna whispers, "Also, to keep Gaia from wandering off. But, good start~"

"Can you so readily abandon the very Creation which is the purpose for which the one you love was created? The very place she protects while you wander the chaos?" You point at the face- the face much like your own, at least from a distance. "Make no mistake, though. If Creation falls, it does not just fade away. There is still Oblivion to contend with and..."

Okay. Maybe you should ask? Because really, this is probably the best chance.

"What are you searching for?" You shrug, releasing Luna. "And have you found anything?"

The great face smiles. It is not a reassuring smile, but more the 'impending revelation' smile. Your vision turns white- the awarness, tied with that of the undiminished Primordial, becomes something...more. Something vast. You hold onto your sense of self, of mortality, to make sense of it.

(Wits+Integrity, 16 dice, 10 successes)

You manage to. It manages to not overwhelm you. But before you- at least, as interpreted by your senses, is something. Some nascent. Vast shapes in the ether of the deep Chaos. At first glance, they remind you of Unshaped you've come across when traveling the Wyld. Except they're not as chaotic. Or maybe more chaotic?

"Those-"

Wait. Why would Gaia be interested in Raksha?

…

oh.

"Those aren't Raksha." You can see...differences. Maybe similarities. Lesser than what you would expect, but maybe that's because they're still nascent. Still developing. Are those- Can they be? This far out in the Faraway? Maybe out past the faraway?

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

You have no way to know for sure. You have so little to compare it to. But there are so few other things that would attract Gaia's attention like this.

"Are those Primordials?"

"Someday, perhaps." She takes a smaller form, easier for you to comprehend. A woman with red hair and a young face. Remarkably similar to your mother. "We are unique. But just because we are unique does not mean that we cannot be the only ones in the infinite possibilities of the Wyld. These are not a Primordial Host. But at the same time, I cannot say they are not one."

You nod. "Dreamers, then."

Gaia cocks an eyebrow. "Then it's really important that you help us," you state.

The nascent primordials disappear. You are back- before the titanic face. And why is that?

"Because the enemy that seeks to awaken Kukla and destroy Creation is the subsoul of the Engine of Extinction. One from another universe, who's traveled through the Well of Udr to consume Creation, and then Autochthon."

The eyes of the titan narrow. But not to gaze upon you with disapproval. Rather, to gaze at the encounter suit.

And so once more we are all threatened.

Sorcerer?

Autochthon's voice. Private, between the two of you. Yes? You send back.

May I have permission to...what is the word...be let off the leash, as it were?

You blink. Did he just ask to do something stupid? That's new. Well, you need more information. Before I say yes or no, why?

Because Gaia is, once again, being an immense hypocrite and the heroic resolve you've managed to impart on my via your magicks is compelling me to finally, after countless millenium, call her out on it.

[ ]Do eeeeeeeeeeeeeeet.

[ ]Let me do eeeeeeeeeeeeet.

[ ]Write in.​

 

[GreggHL]

[X]Do eeeeeeeeeeeeeeet.


So, she blames Autochthon for the actions of the Engine of Extinction, a being who is the thematic inverse of the Great Maker. A being who by its very nature is the opposite of everything Autochthon values and embodies. That's a special kind of stupid by your definition, so you can only come to one rational decision.

Oh, she's all yours.

My thanks, Sorcerer.

The encounter suit disappears. Instead, something else...opens. The encounter suits serve as a conduit to Autochthon's Mythos, after all. He designed them as such, for his own courage, his own valor, was too diminished to allow him to interact directly with his peers.

You see the concern coming across the Titan's face, and you realize that, since the encounter suits serve as a conduit, and Autochthon designed them, he would have indeed designed a method into them to open up the conduit more fully.

And so, above, the darkness is illuminated by an immense, brass eye that shines like the sun.

Gaia. Once again I am reminded that you are the youngest of us, for your actions are those of a child.

Aw yeah, you think. He's pissed.

"On a scale of One to Primordial War, how angry do you think he is?" you ask.

Luna, to your surprise, laughs. "Five," Gaist answers. You hear crunching, and turn to see the diminutive brass avatar of the Ebon Dragon eating popcorn with a rapt look upon his face.

"This is fucking amazing, and I didn't even have to do anything."

He's got you there.

This is the actions of your neverborn, Great Maker. Gaia's voice echoes like thunder. Like continental movements, the cracking of earth creating volcanoes.

Then put blame where it is due. Blame Oramus, for his mad experiments creating the Well of Udr, and how the Engine gained access to this universe. Blame that Autochthon for charging into battle and dying. Because right now, the only ones who can stop the efforts of the Engine are the Celestial Exalted.

The iris narrows. Starmetal plates along the pupil glow.

The Celestial Exalted I created. Who you and the Incarnae empowered for the War in Heaven, which you sat out for its entirety.

You shuffle over to Luna, clearing your throat. "You're standing on the sidelines for this?"

"He's got a point," Luna says, stroking her beard, "Autochthon created the Exaltation, built a lot of shit for them, and directed the Jadeborn during the war. Gaia's contribution was basically telling five of her Kami to empower to Dragonblooded and then sitting it out."

You nod. "So, Gaia's..."

"Kind of chafed from all the sitting on the fence, yep." Luna reaches over, taking some popcorn from the Ebon Dragon. "This is gonna be cathartic or bloody and I can't tell what I want more."

Your actions have always been those of animus and malice, Great Maker. Every time you have acted in recent times, it has been rashly. How is this different?

Rashly? You see the spark of lightning along the plates of the brass eye. That hit a nerve. So quick are you to forget everything I have done. My actions have been rash. But they have been in response to abuse and neglect. How soon you forget the Bridge of Nowhere, which serves as your guide when you wander the Faraway. How soon you forget the humanity which served as the soldiers in the War in Heaven, who were made when the Primordial Host butchered my son.

The pupil narrows. But the anger on his voice is not hot. Only steady. Calm. Cold.

You have only known freedom and affection. I have known loss, and abuse. And in my rashness I have proven your themes wrong, and for that I apologize.

Proven them wrong, Great Maker? I am curious how.

There is a low, brass rumble. A laugh? A growl? Is there a difference?

Perhaps the reason you hate me so. Perhaps just one. After all, I, sickly and mortal and dying, created the Celestial Exaltations. They draw upon the Void, which is embodied within my themes. Is it not that which would allow them to kill you if they were so emboldened?

The brass eye narrows.

That which is weak, dies. That which is strong, survives. The Exaltations are made by me. They draw upon my themes. The void, which allows them to end that which cannot die, comes from me. You believe me to be animus and arrogant, and I accept that. I have a right to be. I have a reason to be.

Gaia is pointedly silent. The titanic face shows...consternation? Thought.

Stop being a spoiled, petulant child. It is by virtue of you not taking a side during the War that you are not sent to your room. Have the Kukla remain asleep and give its location to the Sorcerer so she can do her fucking job.

The titanic face of Gaia vanishes. But you can tell, at the depths of the gestalt, that there is agreement. You nod, and you receive revelation- an island volcano in the distant West. The location of the Kukla.

"Niiiiiiice." The Ebon Dragon gives two thumbs up. "Now kiss."

The brass eye turns to the Yozi, and the pupil narrows to a pinprick.

Shut. Up.

You concentrate, cup your hands, and channel your will through the spell. The gestalt goes to darkness, and then to light.




You find yourselves in the now empty coliseum, empty save for you, for the encounter suit, and for Luna.

Luna waves from her seat atop the coliseum, and moves, appearing in front of you.

"So I'm not even mad."

"That's...good." You glance, side to side. "How mad is Gaia?"

"We'll find out." Luna grins, and as always you just can't read her. "He-" She points at Autochthon. "Has a point. She's a bit of a spoiled child on the Primordial scale, and there's a distinct lack of grownups to tell her that."

"I will admit I enjoyed that far more than I expected," the Great Maker responds.

Luna nods. She also narrows her eyes. "Am I going to worry about her getting impressed by you lecturing her?"

"The themes of Gaia are of survival, struggle, and consumption. I am creation, recycling, and industry. We are so opposed in our mythos and methodology that no. Just no. To put it in a crude fashion that would put all ambiguity to rest- I wouldn't fuck Gaia with the Ebon Dragon's dick."

"I would."

You stuff the Ebon Dragon's prison back in your amulet. Luna waggles her finger, and you are back on your airship.

[ ]Check on Ray and Shell and their search for the Eye of Autochthon.

[ ]Head directly for the Kukla's prison.

[ ]Write in.​

 

[GreggHL]

[X]Check on Ray and Shell and their search for the Eye of Autochthon.


Upon your ascension to sorcery- and upon Ray first standardizing the usage of Sorcery Capture Cords- it became a standard procedure among your circle to always have a sorcery capture cord with three castings of Infallible Messenger on it- one addressed to you, one addressed to Bright Star, and one addressed to Ray. Sky's proximity to you and Peak's tendency to be where you least expected him to be, as well as his own mastery of Infallible Messenger, made needing a cord for them redundant.

You also set up codes. Hence, you sent out an Infallible Messenger to Ray, asking her how the search for the Eye went. A response came back seconds later, in the form of a golden cherub, which carried Ray's voice to your ears and the words,

"It's fiiiiiiiiiine."

Which was the code you worked out for 'It's a serious problem and we don't have time to give you details.'

So you ran up the decks of Ligier's airship and promptly ordered him to set a course for where Ray and Shell had headed off to.



The Eye of Autochthon was a baaaaaad thing. It was, from your studies, an eye of a primordial, and due to the nature of Autochthon's joutens- that they were built and probably modular- it was still connected to his mythos. Hence, it still saw, it still observed, and the mythos of a primordial was stronger than the mythos of Creation.

This lead to bad things. After all, Autochthon's own world-jouten was...barely habitable to humans, even with direct Exalted assistance. You've seen aftermaths of the Eye being used. They tended to be quite bad.

So as the airship continues its flight towards what was the site of the Pearl Court, you had a sit down with Autochthon to discuss what to expect.

"Can you control the Eye?"

The encounter suit shakes his head. "No. I severed direct control with it when I detached it and gave it to the Solar Exalted. I had suspicions at that time of the danger the Exalted represented, and did not wish to give them a...term...back door."

Sensible. Rarity. But good.

"If we retrieve the Eye, can you take control of it?"

"Most likely. As with many actions, it was not one that I put much forethought into."

"Noted." The two of you sit in the airship's sitting room. Demonic servants serve tea, averting their eyes from the encounter suit. You hear the doors open and the sounds of flower petals being spread, and assume Ligier has arrived.

"So, since Bannery Bu can't leave Yu Shan, I had an alternate idea," you say, sipping your tea, "What is your opinion on my mother?"

"Charming human. She is a Dragonblooded, yes?"

"Wood Aspect." You stare at the Encounter Suit past the lip of your cup. "Impeccable breeding."

"Of course. You mention Bannery Bu, so you want my opinion on her because you wish to have her as a guiding hand in my mania."

You nod. "V'Neef is a woman of wonderful manners and most prodigious social charms. I once saw a relief painting of her entertaining Lady Mnemon, Cathak Cainan, the Roseblack, and the last scion of House Viridian. All of them were of utmost mirth and high spirits."

You turn, looking over your shoulder and watching Ligier walk over, two arms folded behind him and two spread out and raised.

"I do not know who those people are," Autochthon says, finger raised, "But would I be correct in presuming they would normally attempt to kill each other?"

You nod. "Odd." You fold your arms and lean back. "House Viridian, or one of their scions, Manosque, was one of the more famous people to have the Eye. He tried to take over the Realm with it, and was close to seizing control of the Realm Defense Grid before his entire army shot into the sky."

You rub your temples. "I thought House Viridian was wiped out to the child, though."

Ligier cocks an eyebrow. His eyes turn from your gaze to the amulet on your wrist, and you get the meaning behind it. Something to do with the Ebon Dragon.

"In any case, Sorcerer," Ligier says, "We are approaching the Wyld-infested area where Ray and Shell went to. I invite you to the bridge."



You and Autochthon follow Ligier up the decks to the bridge, where Florivet steers the airship through the snowstorms with effortless ease. You knew there was a reason you bound him, even if at times you wondered. He was constantly drunk, disorderly, lecherous, and tended to smell. But, he is an excellent captain and navigator, no matter the craft.

He stares ahead- the wings of the master sailor flutter, and the eyes of the furred, canine demon go wide before he pulls up the flask from his side and takes a deep pull of the rum. "So, let me get this straight," the Whim of the Wind asks, "If you got the Bonefire from the Wyld Court back when, what in the name of Mardukth's ever-expanding arse is that?"

You walk past Florivet and can't help but agree with him. And, maybe want some rum for yourself.

It is...big enough that you can see it from the ship, which is still some distance away. Tuning your sight to supernatural, you stare out- flowing essence both into your Sorcerer's Sight and your own Keen and Unsurpassed Sight to cross the distance and make out details.

(Perception+Awareness, 9 dice +6 successes, 20 successes)

You see it. Floating above the spot that was the Pearl Court- at least, the land they once claimed before Ray went to town on them. It overshadows the land, but anchored to it- like an immense tree that has grown out of it. Not as complex as a tree-

An immense trunk, with four shaped and equal arms. Like an immense hypercube, unfolded into a tesseract of quartz crystal.

"Welp."

"Yes," Autochthon says, "Someone has lost control of the Eye."

"I have to ask. Why quartz?"

"My mythos is centered around the Pole of Crystal. When the Eye observes, it stretches my mythos into the fabric of Creation. I can only assume when a wielder loses control over the Eye it causes a logic-failure shaping cascade that snaps my mythos violently over the area."

You no. "So, a primordial brainfart."

"Yes. Exactly."

You rub the bridge of your nose. Florivet whistles. "Okay." You take a deep breath. "We're closer. Can you see out of the Eye?"

Autochthon is silent for a moment. Then, he stands up straight, a puff of steam from his mouth grill and a startled mutter of surprise.

"Autochthon?"

"I can detect the Eye and yes. Yes! I can hear the voice of the one wielding it."

You blink. "The Eye can hear?"

Autochthon places his hand on your shoulder. His senses, his awareness, briefly merges with yours. And you hear. You hear a language completely unfamiliar to your own- something you've heard in whispers, behind closed doors, beneath the floors. Beneath the ground.

"What is that?"

"Rocktongue," Autochthon answers, "The Eye is in the possession of a Jadeborn."

[ ]Find Ray and Shell.

[ ]Find the Eye and the Jadeborn.

[ ]Write in.​

 

[GreggHL]

[X]Find the Eye and the Jadeborn.


You would refer to the immense quartz structure as a Tesseract, as that was what it was. A higher dimensional cube folded out into three dimensional space, which would make sense if it was Autochthon's mythos having a panicked shitting over Creation. Your own observations concluded it was partially hollow. Not a solid structure, but a tower. Much like an insect farm, which when you consider what you know about the Jadeborn made a good amount of sense.

You stand on the bow with Autochthon, Ligier, and Ruvelia. You see brief sparks of gold and iridescence along the quartz tower, and you can conclude Ray and Shell are also within.

"So, you're sure it's a Jadeborn," you ask, "How could you hear it? Can the Eye hear?"

"No. Visual input only. I could hear her because she were praying to me in Rocktongue." The encounter suit paces back and forth, humming, steam wafting out of the grill. "Very clever, though. Finding the Eye and attempting to utilize it like such."

You nod. "Any specifics on what she was praying for? Was it a general offering of prayer or a request for something?"

The Great Maker stops pacing. He turns to you, and nods. "Translated; 'Great Maker, bless this, my work to remake myself as we once were, so we will be once more worthy of your guidance.'"

(Int+Lore, 12 dice, +6 autosuccesses, 11 successes)

"As we once were." You purse your lips, folding your arms. "The People of Adamant. Which I will admit is on my to do list for the time you're in my entourage."

You sigh, exhale. "Okay, let's get the question out of the way. How do we fix the Great Geass?"

"First, we would have to kill the Jadeborn."

You stare at the Great Maker. Ligier gives him a questioning eyebrow, and Ruvelia tilts her head. "You mean without genocide," Autochthon says, and huffs, "To be honest, I am not sure." He shrugs. He shrugs at the idea that the way he would fix the Great Geass is by wiping out the Jadeborn.

"What did you do to create the Geass?" May as well start with first principles.

"I broke their souls. Given, it was not done with forethought. And looking back, I had no intention of interacting with Creation again following the incident. But we must understand- my themes are creation. Not repair."

"You could probably repair it with Wyld shaping," Ligier says, idly buffing his nails, "The Jadeborn were calcified Raksha, so a solution would most likely include some sort of shaping."

Ruvelia takes Autochthon by the hand with a beatific smile. "Great Maker, perhaps you would tell me the story of the People of Adamant on this world?"



With that, you walk towards the steps to the lower decks. You have ideas- but before you board that quartz tower, you want to know all your options, and this would also lead to you answering some questions.

So you walk into the furnace room of the brass airship, where the dragon king meditates inside the open flame at the center of the engine. "Gaist, why does the Sun owe you favors?"

The Anglok grins, opening his eyes. He sits, lotus position in the flame, breathing it deeply. "What do you know of the ancient Dragon Kings?"

(Int+Lore, 12 dice +6 autosuccesses, 14 successes)

Ah. You raise a finger, and point at him. "You were an Olchilik." You tap your lip, pacing around the fire. "To one of the Sun's immediate subordinates, and that's why he owes you favors, right? Who was it? Nysala? Five Days Darkness? Someone like that?"

Gaist grins. He chuckles, low and amused. "I was Olchilik to the Most High. He who is now King of Heaven, when he was still King of Creation. The Unconquered Sun."

You blink. You don't even have to think about that. "That...shouldn't be possible."

"No one Olchilik could contain the power and glory of the Most High. So, four of us would volunteer. Mosok, Pterok, Raptok, and Anglok. Each of us would be Olchilik to one of His Virtues, and through us did he five times change the course of our civilization. Each time to do so without the eye of his Father upon him."

The flames around him seem to burn brighter. "We would not survive. Even divided, the power and glory was too much for our mortal bodies to contain. We would die, in revelation and sunfire, our bodies-"

"Offerings up to the Sun," you finish, "Like your hearts. But more." You hum. "Demons do something similar when their Yozi progenitor possesses them. I wonder if this was similar?"

Gaist shrugs. "For us, death is not an end, but a journey." He strokes the long scales of his jaw. "In return, he granted each of us a boon. Each time an Olchilik would give themselves bodily for him, he would grant us a boon."

"It was voluntary?"

He nods. "Even in death we would remember the flame. Each time, it was a different Mosok. A different Pterok. Twice, did the same Raptok serve."

You hum. You see where this is going. "You volunteered five times."

"I am Anglok." He pats his chest with his fist. "My heart beats with the zeal of a true disciple of the Sun. How could I not?" He laughs. "The Sun owes me three more boons. I called in one to be sent to Pangaea and aid Sky in his battle with the Worm."

Oh. Oh. "And you used another to be somehow metaphysically bind yourself with Sky's Exaltation."

Gaist nods. "During the primordial war, most of my people died. But I saw that the Exalted, the Chosen, would serve the Sun as I once did, as we once did. They would falter, they would fall, but they would be greater than we ever were. So after a few lives of thought and meditation, I asked the Sun to allow me to guide the first of his Chosen. At that time, that Exaltation was the keter soul of a wandering swordmaiden named-"

"Swallowtail Rainstorm."

"One of the times I served as Olchilik was when the Most High rallied my people to war against the Primordial Host. The Chosen, fighting alongside the Chosen." Gaist grins. "You want me to call in another of my boons?"

You shrug. "I don't think it would be useful for this, actually. But we're about to storm a tower that has the Eye of Autochthon in it."

"Ah. That thing." Gaist sighs. "I warned him."

You shrug, and file that question for later.

"We're going after the Eye first, then finding Ray and Shell. So, better get ready."



Entering the tower, you found your way barred by puzzles. Logic and illogic, clever and inventive. You've spent enough time around him, studying him, that you could tell Autochthon was kind of giddy at the prospect of so many puzzles, and so you let him solve them.

You took yourself, Sky, Autochthon, and Ruvelia. As well as quite a few immaterial blood apes, just in case. Ligier and Gaist waited onboard the airship- Gaist would use his own connection to Sky to keep track of you while monitoring the tower for signs of your friends. Ligier had the orders of incinerating the tower if things went to pear-shaped.

It took several hours, and several dozen rooms filled with puzzles, traps, work shops, art reliefs, and other such things, but Autochthon's connection with his eye was- if not one of control- one of familiarity. He could see out of it, and hence he could find it.

So that is how you end up in an immense room at the heart of this quartz tower, and at the center of the room itself you see it. A bras sphere, made of smaller and smaller, finer and finer brass rings. Hologlyphic constructions surround it- ever moving, ever thinking. Ever angle viewed is the same one, and you know it is indeed channeling his mythos.

"There it is. Yes. Right middle, third row down."

"What?"

The Great Maker scoffs. "You believe my world-jouten has only two eyes?"

The encounter suit lumbers forwards, towards the quartz web of altered reality that surrounds the Eye of Autochthon. He makes it a few steps before a bold of lightning strikes the floor in front of him. He stops, looks up. As do you.

"Halt!"

At the top of the webbing, there stands...yes, a Jadeborn. But you've only encountered the workers, before. The small ones. This one is as tall as you. Lean and thin and beautiful, in articulated alloy armor and holding a long lance glowing with electrical essence.

"Hello," Autochthon says with a wave.

"Hi," you say, walking over next to him, and point to the suspended sphere, "That's the Eye of Autochthon. Did you lose control over it?"

The Jadeborn narrows her eyes. "What do you know about the Eye?"

"Quite a bit," the Great Maker says, "As I am Autochthon."

Silence hangs over the chamber for long moments. She responds in a way which is sensible, given the circumstances.

"Bullshit."

[ ]Reassure the Jadeborn that no, this really is Autochthon and he's working for you.

[ ]Use Autochthon as a distraction and grab the Eye.

[ ]Write in.​

 

[GreggHL]

[X]Challenge her to a crafting challenge with Autochthon as your champion.


You point a finger at the Enlightened Jadeborn, maybe a bit incensed at her disbelief. "Fine! I will prove the veracity of my words, then!" You turn to the encounter suit. "I challenge her to a contest of crafting. Great Maker, build something!"

Autochthon shrugs, spreads his hands, and a piece of quartz rises up from the floor. It shapes- worked upon by infinite waldos extending from his palms, working away the rough nature of the crystal, until a lights forth from it and an iridescent floating crystal rises into the sky.

"Impressive," the Jadeborn says, "But hardly a feat worthy of the Great Maker! I challenge you, then- tell me, with your supposed infinite knowledge what this tower is, and what I must do to complete it!"

Complete it? Oh dear. "She didn't lose control over the Eye."

"This much quartz gives a bad first impression but it may have been intentional." Autochthon glances up, glances down. "Ah! Fascinating, you created a mobile focus for ambient sunlight. The quartz itself is axiomatically enhanced to withstand any ambient essence effects, and you are puzzling how to get it to fly."

The Jadeborn takes a short, sudden breath.

"How did you figure that out so quickly?"

The Great Maker points at the eye. "Because that is my eye." He walks over to it, extending a hand. The Jadeborn does nothing to stop him. "Yes. I can see- you gambled upon the belief that the cascade snapback from the Eye would be axiomatic- ordered- and planned accordingly. This is genius, imaginative. Putting prayers to me within your construct in the form of puzzle traps and logic rooms to further enhance the nature of this weapon. I must wonder, though. Did you do this on your own?"

He looks up, staring at the Jadeborn. "If you did this on your own, I wonder how you are not experiencing insanity as a result of the Geass. Have you by chance encountered the Clay Man?"

The Jadeborn lowers her lance. "You are the Great Maker. You have returned."

"Yes."

She then races the lance and blasts Autochthon with a bold of lightning essence, sending the encounter suit bouncing head over heels and narrowly missing Sky and Ruvelia before embedding himself in a far wall. You turn, staring at the immobile encounter suit, and turn back to the Jadeborn.

"So we could use someone who does that. Do you take money?"



Despite how easily the coincidence would have fit, the Jadeborn did not encounter any Alchemicals, any breakthroughs, or any other things you've been keeping busy with for the past few months. Once she came down from her platform, she introduced herself as Song Keeper, Artisan and Enlightened.

Double bonus, as the Artisans were really rare. Also, paranoid, which is why she was cagey around the supposed Great Maker.

The Eye remained at the center of the quartz webbing, while she continued to grip her lance. Ruvelia's own azure flame permeates the quartz, lowering the air of tension and paranoia, but Song Keeper does not let you approach the Eye.

"The Eye was found in where the stories tell us it was first misused- where an empire was made with it."

"That's on the other side of Creation," Sky observes.

You shrug. "It's the Eye. So, this is a weapon?"

Song Keeper nods. "I intend to use it to reclaim one of the ancestral homes of my people from the darkness that has claimed it."

(Int+Lore, 12 dice, +6 successes, 9 successes)

Ancestral home, ancestral home...ah!

"So you want to kill Vodak with this and reclaim the tunnels underneath Gethamane?" You glance around. Hum. It is an amplifier, but the question is whether or not the human population of Gethamane would survive the immense sunlight blast that, say, bleached the stones of the City Beneath the Mountain.

Right.

"Ligier?"

In a subdued but still magnificent burst of emerald flame, the Lord of Hell appears next to you.

"Yes, Sorcerer?"

Song Keeper levels her lance at the demon. Then recognizes him, and hastily pulls the lance up.

"Take one of my Agatae, go to Gethamane, and kill Vodak."

"Please," Ruvelia adds.

"Of course." Ligier bows, respectfully, stretching out two of his arms. "And I see this is an intentional creation? My compliments to the Jadeborn on controlling the Eye."

Song Keeper's cheeks flush, and Ligier vanishes in another burst of flame. "So," you say, clapping your hands, "I have two members of my Circle somewhere in this tower, and I need to find them."



Song Keeper was paranoid. That much was certain. Ruvelia alleviated that, and you made it a point to keep her close to the Jadeborn. Song Keeper, for her part, agreed to help you find Ray and Shell, leading you through the logic chambers and puzzle rooms- most of them quickly solved by Autochthon before Song Keeper could disable the traps, much to the delight of the bound Primordial.

"How did you encounter the Great Maker?"

The chasm of this room stretches further than the room itself should, and is connected by randomly assembling blocks. The challenge of it was to figure out the frequency they appear at, the method, and to tune it with vibrations until they form into a bridge.

"The Seal of Eight Divinities opened in a Shadowland we were clearing out and we encountered a party from inside."

"There are people within the Great Maker?" Song Keeper grimaces. "Humans?"

You nod. "And Alchemicals. They're...well, Exalted."

Song Keeper's nostrils flair. She purses her lips, narrowing ruby eyes.

"We were his Chosen, once. He is mercurial."

"And a bit absent minded."

"Agreed." You like her already.

You cough. "I...have asked him how to fix the Geass. He...has no idea."

Song Keeper's eyes narrow more. Ruvelia places a hand on the Jadeborn's shoulder. "All will be well," she says, and the Jadeborn visibly relaxes. On cue, the bridge forms- an immense suspension bridge of moving quartz, and Autochthon doesn't wait for you before walking across it.

"So are you from Gethamane?"

"I am from the North," Song Keeper says, "Our cities are low and kept secret, and we have just met. Even if you somehow commiserate with the Great Maker, I will not reveal them just yet. I seek to return my people to something resembling glory."

You walk into the next chamber- clockwork crystals cycling in faint gongs. You make it into the room before you bump into the encounter suit, which turns and runs a light from his palm over Song Keeper.

"Ah, yes! I have an idea!"

Oh dear.

[ ]Continue searching for Ray and Shell.

[ ]Ask about the idea.

[ ]Write in.​

 

[GreggHL]

[X]Ask about the idea.
-[X]Prepare


You raise a hand. You are prepared for this sort of thing- weeks of traveling with your bound Primordial (you still like the sound of that) tell you that it is wise to hear him out before finding a six year old child or Bannery Bu to tell him he is wrong. In which case, you may not have a child, but you do have a Jadeborn, and she may be a good stand in for Bannery Bu.

Mother would be an appreciable substitute, but she may instead seduce him. You don't need that. "Okay, so, what's the idea?"

"And what does it do?" Song Keeper asks. Oh, she's good.

"The Great Geas, in a unintended consequence of it's laying upon the People of Adamant, appears to have fractured the souls of my once-chosen."

Song Keeper's nostrils flare. That may have not been the best choice of words but, eh, Autochthon. "Continue," you say.

"The soul of the Jadeborn before me is a perfect one fifth fracture of the soul of a People of Adamant. This may be exactly why my initial solution to the problem of the Geas was Genocide, which we agree is not optimal."

"Noted," Song Keeper says, "You believe the Geas can be alleviated by somehow reassembling our souls."

The facet eyes light up. Ah, yes. Belief. A combination of Dogma and Prayer, which may have his brass jimmies rustling. "Yes. The fragment-souls of the Jadeborn must be rejoined! I have an idea as t how!"

(Int+Occult, 12 dice, +6 autosuccesses, 16 successes)

Inspiration strikes you! As well as past life memories!



You watch as the immense brass sphere hovers before the base of Mount Meru, and from it emerges lightning which scours the assembled People of Adamant. You watch- sorcerer's sight and your own instruments observing the reversal of the ritual you are familiar with.

It will take their deaths for it to be fully realized.

But for now, it is enough.



Holy shit you were present for the laying of the Geas. Wow, they were assholes back in the First Age. But you snap your fingers, and point at the Great Maker. Not with accusation, but realization.

"Unity of the Closed Fist!"

"YES!" The voice booms like thunder. "The sorcerous effect laid upon each Jadeborn in groups of five would in theory reassemble the broken souls of the People of Adamant! From there, the complete spiritual essence could be analyzed and something new or original made or remade! Without Genocide!"

Song Keeper takes a step back from you. Sky does the same. "But wait," you add, "Unity of the Closed Fist is a temporary ritual."

"Indeed." The facet eyes rotate. Oh.

"You would make an artifact to do this."

"A device for each assembled gestalt which would simulate for the extent of attunement the effects of the multi-soul reassembly." Is he breathing heavily? Yes, he is. "In total, it would require two million, one for each of the People of Adamant."

You blink. You turn, to see Song Keeper rubbing her temples. Ruvelia nods. "Two million," you state, "Where would we get the resources to make two million artifacts that have the same effect of an Adamant Circle Ritual?"

Autochthon shrugs. "This is more of a long term idea. I am attempting to work outside my themes."

Yes, but he's not very good at it. Still, it's the thought that counts.

"This way," Song Keeper says with a sigh, and walks towards the first clockwork gong.



The gongs themselves were not just sound, but light converted into sound. So the puzzle was a matter of reflecting light, and providing your own via your anima banner. Under Autochthon's direction, the puzzle was solved and you proceeded to an immense shaft, leading down into the depths of the tower.

It leads to a lift- a large one that accommodates you all, grinding down on lightning powered rails. "There may be a problem," Song Keeper says. She seems old, but that may just be the weariness in her voice.

"Define 'problem,'" Sky says. Maybe a bit too insistently.

"The creation of this structure has not been without interference." She lets that point hang. For emphasis.

You roll your hand, the Old Realm sign for getting to the point.

"There may be something in the Eye that fought my control. That was not the Great Maker."

"I will point out that this structure is unlike anything I have ever made myself and therefor I would not have resisted its construction."

You pinch the bridge of your nose. The lift grinds to a halt, coming to rest in front of two immense quartz draws covered in Jadeborn imagery and prayers- some of them rude- to the Great Maker.

Then they break, shattering outward, and one of your friends rolls to your feet.

"Shell!" you and Sky both exclaim.

She opens her eyes, looking up at you, then the Great Maker, Ruvelia, and quirks an eyebrow at Song Keeper.

"She's a Jadeborn," you explain, "She made this structure using the Eye. Also, she doesn't like the Great Maker."

"Noted," Shell says, braces her hands against the floor, and flips back up before snapping out her beamklave and igniting it. "Also, Ray could use help with the spirit."

You nod, summoning your staff. Sky forms a sword out of golden light. Then Ray skids to a stop in a crouch in front of you, visibly bloodied and bruised even in her orichalcum form. "I should not," she growls, "Be having this much trouble with a fucking Dragonblooded."

She turns. "Oh hey."

You grab Ray by the shoulders. "Dragonblooded?"

"Indeed!" The wall tears open. Not by hands or claws but by command. Floating before you is-

Oh. Oh.

A man made out of quartz, in a quartz effigy of Armor of the Immaculate Dragons, and stretching from his back a great banner of a dead Great House.

"Are you surprised, intruders? For I am the Heir of the Realm! Unseen Master of the Eye of Autochthon!"

"You are shitting me," Sky mutters.

"MANOSQUE VIRIDIAN!"

Ray turns to you. "So I have an idea and it might end spectacularly badly."

[ ]Introduce yourself as a fellow grandchild of the Empress.

[ ]Kick his ass in the name of House Ebeli.

[ ]Have Ray do the thing which might end spectacularly badly.

[ ]Write in.​

 

[GreggHL]

[X]Kick his butt in the name of House Ebeli.
-[X]Listen to Ray's idea and maybe do it


You turn to Ray. "Okay. Idea?"

"Sifu's taught me new tricks since we spent a hundred years in the Primal Forge," Ray says, "Plus side: It will make you amazing for about...eh...ten minutes?" Your circle sister shrugs. "Minus side, if we can't break the effect- and I think I can, 'cause it will need more Sidereal Martial arts and I know the stuff- you will be kind of insane."

You laugh, softly.

"Airship has left that dock."

"Point. Do it?"

Manosque Viridian- holy crap it really is Manosque Viridian- continues proclaiming his excellence. "Do it."

Ray whispers, softly, slowly,

"Four maidens walked through a door and there was all they ever wanted."

Her finger brushes against the back of your neck. In that moment, you feel it. The certainty. The clarity. The glory and certainty that destiny itself now gives you aid. The weight of the world comes down upon you and you hold it firmly upon your shoulders. What is this, you ask?

What have you become?

(Int+Occult, 12 dice, +10 successes, 15 successes)

You see-

You see the unfurling Perfected Lotus before you. In that moment does the very blossom open for you, and upon your tongue does a single petal drop. Its taste, its texture, tells you everything-
​

Sidereal Martial Art
Border of Kaleidoscopic Logic Style
Birth of the Perfected Ego Juggernaut
​

Whatever that means. So you raise your staff and you declare to the fellow grandchild of the Scarlet Empress;

"Proclaim all you want, Scion of the Dead House! I, scion of your successor, will kick your hard crystal buttcheeks in the name of House Ebeli!"

(Charisma+Presence, 9 dice +10 autosuccesses, 14 successes)

The quartz figure stares at you. Color fills in the crystal figurine. Emerald, green. Ah, yes. Viridian. You narrow your eyes with a smirk.

Yes, you see. Not exactly a dragonblooded! But, as he is not dead, he still retains that spark without being entirely human. Ish. Instead, you can safely pronounce him as an Autochthonian Dragonblooded!

And you are a Solar Exalted, so whatever!

"An insignificant, self-righteous scion of the False Empress? I will show you true power!"

Viridian raises a hand. Song Keeper screams, Sky grunts, and Ray yelps. Autochthon simply watches, but you stand tall and triumphant as the entire tower reshapes itself via the power of the Eye of Autochthon. Up becomes down, Inside becomes Outside.

The world around you becomes the White of Elsewhere, but you stamp your foot down and cast the Chaos Repelling Pattern around yourself before you leap and swing your staff at the quartz man.

(Dex+Melee, 20 dice +10 successes, 20 successes)

It strikes and smashes into Viridian's face. The crystal warps around the head of your staff, like flesh. You manage to knock his helmet clean off and send him sprawling back, and he rights himself- still flying, but he extends a hand.

Something screams, tearing through the world above you. From on high. Like the top of the tower.

You kick back, swing back your staff, and stand on bits of falling crystal. An object- a sphere- drops from the sky and into Viridian's hand.

Manosque Viridian holds the Eye of Autochthon. The Eye rotates, in the hands of its master.

"Pitiful, usurping spawn of the false empress, I will erase you from-"

You move. Move faster tha you ever had before, the certaintly carrying you across a bridge of falling crystal and straight to your cousin. With one deft, precise motion, you place a hand on the brass sphere.

"Mine."

(Int+Lore, 12 dice, +15 autosuccesses, 22 successes)

The Eye of Autochthon rotates and fixes itself into a single brass orb which now stares at you. Viridian yells out, in disbelief, in anger. The Eye acknowledges you as its new master, and you speak-

"As you were." The Eye spins. Quartz becomes flesh. Essence returns as it was. Manosque Viridian returns to life, and the powerful Dragonblooded scion looks at his hands, gasping. Breathing, something he has not done in many, many years. His green eyes go wide and he stands upright, and a face much like your own stares back at you.

He thanks you by pointing his gauntlets at you and blasting you. You idly reflect it off your staff with a laugh.

"Oh ho ho!" you say, one hand on your hip, "That tables! Have turned!"

"For the moment only," Viridian responds, mirroring your pose, summoning from somewhere a blade and shield, "I shall have the Eye returned to me!"

You crack your knuckles. "You and what army?"

Then he snaps his fingers and the crystal elementals appear around him. Oh yes, he is a sorcerer. Also, that army.
​

Join Battle:
The Crimson Emperor
Manosque Viridian
​

[ ]Use the Eye.
-[ ]To do what?

[ ]Write in.​

 

[GreggHL]

[X]Use the Eye
-[X]To turn him into a duck. A crystal duck.
-[X]To summon a bigger fish.
-[X]Summon an even better army of demons.
-[X]Use it to send everyone to the eye socket the Eye was taken from so you can fight Viridian away from his home ground.

(Join Battle; Ebeli, 10 dice +10 autosuccesses, 15 successes)

You were quickest. You place your hand on the Eye of Autochthon, and state your intentions- the rampant mythos of the Great Maker verses your own excellent mind! And you bellow your wish, staring directly at the charging Viridian.

(Int+Logic, 12 dice +10 autosuccesses, 18 successes)

The world warps- the unleashed mythos of the Great Maker, of the Design, washes over the Usurper. He roars, pushing through it, but it is the voice of the Great Maker beneath you who declares the verdict.

"You are now a crystal duck!"

Manosque Viridian is then a crystal duck. Flapping his crystalline wings and puffing his beautiful viridian crest, he declares his intentions against you with a majestic "QUACK!"

​

 

[GreggHL]

[X]Use the Eye
-[X]To turn him into a duck. A crystal duck.
-[X]To summon a bigger fish.
-[X]Summon an even better army of demons.
-[X]Use it to send everyone to the eye socket the Eye was taken from so you can fight Viridian away from his home ground.

(Join Battle; Ebeli, 10 dice +10 autosuccesses, 15 successes)

You were quickest. You place your hand on the Eye of Autochthon, and state your intentions- the rampant mythos of the Great Maker verses your own excellent mind! And you bellow your wish, staring directly at the charging Viridian.

(Int+Logic, 12 dice +10 autosuccesses, 18 successes)

The world warps- the unleashed mythos of the Great Maker, of the Design, washes over the Usurper. He roars, pushing through it, but it is the voice of the Great Maker beneath you who declares the verdict.

"You are now a crystal duck!"

Manosque Viridian is then a crystal duck. Flapping his crystalline wings and puffing his beautiful viridian crest, he declares his intentions against you with a majestic "QUACK!"

You laugh at your triumph, one hand on your hip, another on your staff, and from your anima you form another with palm down at your chin. Then the duck flaps his wings and sharp vines shoot out at you. Your response is to yelp and swing your staff up to block it, as the crystal elementals- varied shards and hummingbirds- dive down at you.

You block the blast of vines with a swing of your staff, and then realize that the duck is using Charms.

"Autochthon," you cough, shrugging off the toxins with your own amazingness, "Why is the duck using Dragonblooded Charms?!"

"If there were a way to strip the exaltation from a mortal once they had Exalted, the Primordials would have triumphed!"

Damn it. Sky flies up to swing clear a path for you, swinging his sword and shattering a flock of spikey sharp hummingbirds. So you do what is sensible- you place your hand on the Eye of Autochthon and make reality obey you.

(Int+Lore, 12 dice +15 autosuccesses, 21 successes)

"Yes! Yes!" Autochthon declares, "That is absolutely correct! Behold, Slacstag, Shogun of Crystal!"

And then, appearing directly behind you is a 200 yard long, translucent Lesser Elemental Dragon of Crystal. Also unbound. Oh, right.

"What? What?!" The translucent serpent turns to you, and you look into its crystal eyes and at the pulsing pink blob that serves as its brain. "Where am I and who are you?"

Glass hummingbirds bounce off the skin of the crystal dragon, and it swats aside the elementals like flies. "Slacstag," Autochthon yells, standing on the platform below next to Ruvelia and Song Keeper, "This is the Exalted who I serve! Aid her in defeating this Exalted Duck!"

The Lesser Elemental Dragon of Crystal raises a translucent eyebrow, sighs, and dives into the fray. Crystal hummingbirds bounce off his translucent hide, muttering about the Great Maker serving an Exalted. You hear the sounds of furious quacking and terrestrial circle sorcery- any good House head would be a sorcerer after all- and you place your hand on the Eye once more.

You see Ruvelia next to Autochthon. You think. You resolve to kill two birds with one stone!

You cannot reverse death- but if it was not dead, merely turned into a behemoth? Why not bring it here?

(Int+Logic, 12 dice, +14 autosuccesses, 17 successes)

"Yes! It appears! Behold the Warden Soul of the Empress of Existence! The Arm of Might- Zeruel!"

Black ink surrounds you- black shadows and tendrils, razor thin and razor sharp. An immense, heavy presence which seems to suck the light in- beyond dark, beyond black, a wall against the burning light. Atop it is a mask like a silver skull, from which the darkness and ink flows freely.

With a hollow, bass moan it rises, flickering within the recesses of its eyes- and follows with a beam of crimson that slices through the legions of crystal elementals and carves through the quartz walls.

Whoopsie.

"The fuck is that?!" Shell demands, flying past you on plasma thrusters. There is pride, deep down, that the quiet, shy alchemical from when you first met has blossomed so. "Ebeli! What did you do?"

"That thing is destroying my tower!" Song Keeper yells.

Double whoopsie! So you let Zeruel tackle-wrap the crystal duck and continue blasting sweet, sweet essence beams through the architecture and grab the Eye once more. This is easy! You got this! You definitely got this! Everything is coming up Ebeli!

(Int+Lore, 12 dice +13 autosuccesses, 23 successes)

"And now," the Great Maker declares, "We are all sent to the socket from which the Eye of Autochthon was taken!"

"Ebeli," Shell yells, "What did you just do-"



And then the tower of quartz becomes an immense cavern of brass, lit only by the flickering of a distant nerve. You all appear there in a flicker, with your hand still on the Eye. Yes, you think, looking up at the immense hole that the Eye must fit into. Yes, this worked perfectly.

And then Ray punched you in the face and all went black.



You woke up on your back. The certainty, the amazing purpose and clarity, was gone. You felt normal. Looking up, you see Ray and Sky standing over you. They help you up, your head still ringing. "What happened?"

"I had to hit you with Thunder Breaks the Clouds a few times to clear the effects," Ray says, "Had to knock you out first, though."

"You've been out for two days," Sky adds.

You make a questioning sound. Look around.

"I sent us all to Autochthonia, didn't I?" you ask.

Ray sucks her teeth. "According to Shell, we're not technically in Autochthonia. We're in the Far Reaches."

You look over- there is an unconscious man tied up near you- must be Manosque Viridian. Nice of them to not kill him. Maybe you can turn him to your side. The crystal horde is gone, and yes, the crystal dragon you brought over with the Eye is gone, too.

Zeruel has shrunk down to...well, Shoulder Demon size, and currently is perched on Ruvelia's shoulder, and she stands next to the Eye.

Wait, where's the encounter suit. Oh no.

"Autochthon?"

"Yes, Sorcerer," the Eye states, "I am in the process of converting the Eye into a suitable encounter suit!"

Hng. "Right." You rub the bridge of your nose. "Shell! Please give me good news!"

Standing on a hill of brass beneath the light of a flickering nerve, the Alchemical turns to you. "The good news is that my sisters are en route and we should be able to get back to Creation...relatively quickly."

You glare at the Eye. "He can't just...transport us?"

"I surrendered this area to human habitation. However, once I have free access to the Eye of Autochthon I may be able to-"

You turn to Shell. "I have many questions," you sigh, "What happened? Why is there a small version of the Behemoth on Ruvelia's shoulder? Who knocked out Manosque Viridian? What do we have to look out for-"

"You're in my blood soaked world now!"

That came from below. "Oh dammit," you mutter.

"I have a gaping hole," the bass voice booms, "And I'm going to fill it-"

And then, naturally, an immense drill bursts from the ground. Sky and Ray jump out of the way, Sky flickering and pulling you and Shell out of the way with a burst of motion. The Drill rises, and reveals it is attached to an arm.

The arm of a thirty foot tall mechanical giant, made of crimson and purple metal, who's entire torso is a face.

"-WITH YOUR BLOODY BITS!"
​

Join Battle
Pretentious Title
An Apostate Colossus

​

[ ]Run away.

[ ]Grab Autochthon and use the reality violating power of the Eye.

[ ]Hold it off until Shell's sisters can get here.

[ ]Write in.​

 

[GreggHL]

So sorry. Been very busy, especially since I got a new computer and now need to find a Windows version of Anathema.

[X]Hold it off until Shell's sisters can get here.


Sorcerer!

Was that Ligier? Yes, it was. The bond between summoner ad summoned could extend even to this realm, assuming it wasn't now incorporated with Creation.

Yes, Ligier? What is the situation with Vodak?

It is quite amusing! The heckatonchire is a resilient foe, but I have devised strategies with the Mistress of Gethamane on its eventual demise. I sense you are in Autochthonia?

...yes. I may have misused the Eye of Autochthon. I turned its master into a waterfowl, summoned a crystal dragon, and summoned a behemoth made out of Ruvelia's Warden Soul.

Ha ha! Of course, Zeruel would be overjoyed to be reunited with his mistress! For behind that bloodthirsty gaze is the soul of a poet!

You glance at the shoulder mounted shadow demon with the expressionless, deaths head face. You shrug.

As it is, Sorcerer, I merely wished to inform you of my progress. I am off to repair the Reality Engines.

And the connection ends. Reality engines? Maybe you should visit Gethamane when this is done.

"It is inside me! IT IS INSIDE ME! AND IT TELLS ME TO MAKE YOU MY MEAT PUPPET!"

But first you want to deal with the Apostate Colossus. And you don't see a couple hundred blood apes, so that means you were transported here without your retinue. "Fuck."

(Join Battle: 9 dice, 5 successes)

Sky grabs you and the two of you flicker, disappearing from where you were and hence not getting hit by the immense soulsteel drill that carves into the brass. The yellow eyes of the Colossus flicker and its shoulder fins open, two blazing lances of essence lights carving the world around you.

Sky deflects the beam heading to the two of you off the flat of his blade, sending the crimson light into the sky and carving into the metal. The brass ceiling of the world glows, deflected essence from the Apostate's beam carving a river of molten brass and steams roaring perilously close to you.

"Shell!" you yell, "Tell your sisters to hurry up!"

"I WILL KILL YOUR DEATH!"

Ray leaps off of a high perch, grabbing onto the horn of the colossus. She holds on, flipping around it and slamming her heels into the immense forehead, as the colossus charges towards the two of you with murderous (what else) intent.

Sky flickers and you both appear next to Ruvelia, the colossus slamming into a rusted cliffside.

"So," Ruvelia says, "You have found my other-self's former Warden Soul. I should prepare to teach my charms to your Eclipse caste."

You nod. "Sounds good."

Ruvelia smiles, and turns to the hovering black mass. "My defender. Engage the Colossus. But take care, for he may possess the power to kill the immortal."

The recessed eyes of the Warden Soul glow, and with a single bound he grows- to immense size, to immense weight, to immense power. A Behemoth- much like the fabled behemoths of old, like the fabled army slayer rumored to patrol the grounds of Opal Spire.

The tentacles of the former Demon wrap around the limbs of the colossus. Black binds its wrists and ankles, and it grows to overshadow the immense, corrupted Alchemical.

"Holy shit," you whisper.

The skull face mask of the behemoth hovers over the colossus's own immense gaze, and the eyes flicker. Ray kicks off, taking the hint, and the blast of crimson light does not incinerate her as it bores into the soulsteel of the Colossus, shaking the ground beneath you, blasting rust from the floors.

"Keep it bound!" Sky yells, bringing back his sword, "Ruvelia, can you order him?"

"Zeruel, keep the creature bound," she says, hands folded at her waist, "The Dawn will destroy it."

Black wraps around the apostate, over and over again. Black rope like ebon spidersilk, it holds the injured apostate fast, holds it tight around it as Sky charges at it.

He leaps, the light flickering off of Sky Splitter's blade. He brings it forward, swings it as the anima flares, a great blade surrounding him as he drives the holy sword deep into the corrupted machine-

And then the legs and arms fall off the immense, body sized head. It drops to the ground, out of Zeruel's grip as the behemoth makes an inquisitve growl, and lands.

On a proportional neck.

"Ah," Autochthon says, "An optical cloak!"

And then the rest of it rises out of the brass and rust, where it had apparently been waiting. Standing its full length, full height, which you estimate to be around, oh, a hundred meters, it roars with madness and rage.

[ ]Run.

[ ]RUN.

[ ]FUCKING RUN.

[ ]Write in.​