[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.
