The Sword That Ends The World
When he returned to himself, the plan was written before him in clean, precise handwriting. The font was minuscule, but it would have been wrong to say that it looked cramped. Rather, this was precision on the level of the most specialized of Exalted calligraphists, laid over a diagram drawn with cool, unfeeling artistry.
The Northern Pole of Creation.
Ulyssian remembered, of course, everything he had done in the throes of the cold frenzy which had gripped him. It was identical to the feeling that had overcome him before he'd slain the viziers of Luseng, though this time it had come out without any obvious cause. This time, he was not sure if the conclusions it had come to were correct.
Luseng was besieged by enemies both civilized and barbarous. The Bull of the North and his Solar Circle, wielding an army of three hundred thousand, bore down relentlessly on the capital city. At the same time, his own presence had been requested by the Dragon-Blooded gentility to whom he owed his ostensible allegiance - a request which was a command.
More importantly, Creation itself was still presided over by a disparate collection of excessively powerful supermen and -women who wanted nothing so much as to kill each other. Even on the best days they worked at cross-purposes. The Dragon-Blooded labored to increase the power and glory of the Realm, while most Anathema were dedicated to tearing it down. The opposite could be said of the various Anathema states which had sprung up in the Threshold. The end result was that the immense power of the Exalted ended up, mostly, canceling itself out.
Moon had been here shortly before the change had come over him. She worked diligently and wholeheartedly, but neither of them could pretend anymore - she was falling behind. Despite her sincere efforts, competitive spirit, and genius intellect, she was able to contribute less and less every week, as his mind automatically anticipated and plotted around eventualities that it took her hours to derive. It was an ironic and painful reversal of their first sessions in the Academy library.
Moon had happily told him that it didn't bother her, though her reasons were enigmatic to him. Power wasn't everything, she had shrugged, and worked to find other ways she could help him.
But it bothered him, and it bothered him that it bothered him - because why should he be bothered if she herself wasn't?
But Moon still resolved to protect him, even though it had been months since he'd lost a spar to her. She always was so good to him, a compassion that went beyond mere loyalty, a fantasy called "true friendship" that she had stubbornly instantiated into the real. If she carried that resolve into battle, however, against an enemy that could threaten even him, as he was now...
For all that she was a prodigy, a savant among Dragon-Blooded, a master of elemental manipulation not just in her generation, but across all the Ten Thousand Dragons, she would only get in the way. At best she would sacrifice her life for an inconsequential defense, a defense that did nothing to stop his attacker, as his own desperate attempt had shown against Flame.
The Bull. The Dynasty. The Exalted of Creation. His relationship with Moon.
They were all problems that Odyssial could have solved. And so, in a single stroke, he had solved them. Through the dizzying labyrinth of Ulyssian's many problems, Odyssial had found a way.
But Ulyssian did not know if it was a path he wanted to take.
Before him was the plan. Instructions for a ritual of highest Sorcery that, when cast at the Pole of Air, would channel its continent-shattering elemental power into a living Exalted vessel. Most Exalts would be killed, but a transcendent genius of elemental manipulation could, with sorcerous assistance, instead absorb the power found within, and refine it into a higher form of Gaian Exaltation. A form theoretically capable, in many fields, of matching even the greatest of Solar Exalted.
Of course, the procedure came at a cost: the deactivation of the Pole of Air for some number of decades, which would cause near-apocalyptic alteration of Creation's climate and Fae invasions across the whole of the North. The Bull of the North would be forced to retreat as the glaciers became a flood tide. The belligerents of the Dynasty would be far too busy putting out fires across their Threshold holdings to even consider removing so effective a government as his, suspected Anathema or not.
Faced with such a cataclysm, the Exalted of Creation would be forced to unite, or at least to stop quarreling with each other - as the Lunars and Dragon-Blooded had maintained an uneasy truce during the events of the Great Contagion. In the face of a greater enemy, they would come together, or die. The mortals of Creation would not be accorded that luxury - they would die, in their millions and tens of millions, at a minimum.
This was hubris, pure and simple. To raise a Dragon-Blooded above the limits of Terrestrial Exaltation. To place the fate of all Creation in a single sorcerer's hands.
And yet, it would solve so many of his problems. He had nothing to fear from the Fae, he who was the End of Stories. And, as one of the greatest strategist-generals of the First Age, and the only Solar forewarned of this cataclysm, his Creation-spanning strategies would be indispensable in the months and years to come. He alone had the time to plan for all emergent large-scale contingencies of such an event, which meant that his vision would be the one deployed across Creation's face. Too important for any pragmatic pro-Creation Exalt to kill, though his plans inevitably bent Creation to his will even as it saved countless territories and treasures. They would likely even help defend him against the more fanatical and vengeful of parties. There might be other strategists as good as he was, but none would be prepared like he was.
And Moon wouldn't have to be second to him or anyone else, but would be equal as she deserved. He trusted her with the power more than he did himself.
In the longer purview, of course, a destabilized Creation also meant easier implementation of the Lathe of Heaven.
It was, in all respects, a spectacular plan, if he were willing to bear the cost. With his damage-minimization strategies in place, it was not as if more mortals would die than would have been consumed by inter-Exalt conflict before, especially in the long run. But it would be his hand that marked the parchment, his arm that swung the sword. Not even an Exalt of his power could perfectly know the future, but if he took this action those mortals would die guaranteed.
They would die because of him. Ulyssian had not forgotten what it was like to be mortal. He remembered acutely every day the powerlessness, how it felt for the will - the spirit - to burn so relentlessly, even as the flesh could do so little. A mortal could love and live as powerfully as an Exalt. The difference was not in the strength of their selves, but only in the strength of their Essence, and that was such a little thing when it truly mattered, a mere apparatus to the human condition. But only power could change the world, and only power could save a human from that change. His power would shelter Luseng, but it would only imperfectly shield all the men and women outside of Luseng.
He knew for certain that if he were a mortal, if he were destined to die in a flash-flood of such horrific scale that human skill meant nothing, he would do almost anything to prevent that Sorcerer from unleashing it. Perhaps that mortal would die in battle soon after, but at least that death would have been on the merits of his own skill, the result of his own choices.
But the choice was not that mortal's. It was the Solar Exalt's.
Nilul would not oppose him on this. Moon would agree to it if he truly thought it was best. Even The Lily might come around, if he explained his reasoning and showed her the statistics. Neither her people nor his would suffer overmuch from the event - in fact, they'd likely profit greatly, as Luseng would be virtually untouched. Admiral Zao... he was not sure. Destroying Creation to save it? Destruction of this magnitude was less like lancing a boil, and more like severing a gangrenous arm. He might think it too drastic, while the situation was still relatively stable. Hero - and likely Saery - would probably think him a monster.
Outside of his personal context, the plan was far from perfect. Destruction on this scale, with his limited power, was coarse-edged indeed. Countless innocents would die because he thought he knew best. If he failed to act, many others would die in their place, perhaps many more others - but at least it would not be at his hand, for his purposes.
He was Anathema, a Solar Exalt. Chosen of the Dawn Caste, whose purpose was to destroy. The End of Stories, Lord Strategos of the Exalted Host, From Whom The Titans Fled. Rallying the disparate Host with active conquest and parley was almost impossible. Incentivizing them to unite against a greater threat - their original purpose, as an army raised to fight the Primoridals - was far faster and likelier to work. This was how he did things, and it worked, because this was what Creation rewarded.
Destroy, and find a way. That was Odyssial's nature, that was his method of action.
And he was Odyssial.
Wasn't he?
[ ] Finish It - Ceaselessly seek advantage. Do you think you can afford to be soft, now that you are a Solar Exalt? Do not forget how weak you still are. Odyssial was so mighty that your current strength would be nothing but a speck in his eye, and yet he failed, he fell. If you surrender the essence of yourself, if you turn away from the way that was found, then you do not deserve to be the Lord Strategos. The Lord Strategos is not chosen because he is the most righteous of the Exalted. Nor because he is the most personable, or the most philosophically venerable. He is chosen because he wins. Always.
*This option will afford you unprecedented influence over the unfolding of Creation's future. You will number among the most powerful Exalts ever to arise in the Age of Sorrows.
[ ] This is Madness - No. Odyssial goes too far. He sacrifices too much. His way is fast, but the cost of that speed is measured in millions of lives. None of the threats facing you are so dire as to require intervention of this magnitude. The Bull, the Dynasty, your relationship with Moon: these are all problems that Ulyssian can solve himself. They are hardly beyond his not-inconsiderable power. Creation's situation is not so dire that Ulyssian could not gather power for a year or two before taking truly drastic action. After all, he is still weak. When greater personal power is accessible, it is the height of folly to believe that a mind this weak, contains all the answers. [+150,000 XP, You will have to come up with alternate Workings to perform.]
*A rupture in your identity will cause one of Odyssial's Defining Intimacies, chosen at random (or chosen via stunt), to become active.
*Totality mode, or a variant thereof, could occur as selves diverge.
[ ] Write-In - You may propose a different plan for Uly to follow, if you like.
