[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.
