At the request of
@PA2, I and
@QafianSage present...
Aemeris, the Pyroclasm Forge
Demon of the Third Circle
Fifth Soul of the Heaven-Violating Spear
There are few locations in Hell which can be counted as 'safe'. Any such rare idylls within sight of Aemeris, named the Pyroclasm Forge, become not so.
The sight of her at work is rare indeed, for few have the keenness of eye to pierce the clouds of billowing dust her craft produces, and fewer still the hardiness to survive the razored particulates, the searing heat and white lightning which cascades through the pall of toxic smog. Sorcerous texts tell that he is shy, that some fault or injury makes him unwilling to show himself. Others say that they are kind, that they clothe themselves in their choking mantle to protect others from the sight of their body, whose radiance would drive spikes through their eyes and into their brains (conveniently ignoring the legions who asphyxiate and cook when they come too near). The truth is quite simple: The pyroclastic shroud from which she draws her epithet is but a byproduct of her work, and she cares little and less for who or what it swallows.
Aemeris is an artist and an artisan, a craftsman whose twelve hands flash with the marble-white thunder that is their tool, muse and medium. They are not so famous for their war-machines as Kuara, nor for general mastery of creation as the Green Sun, and yet they hold a proud place in the pantheon of hellish artificers. Her work is like no other, for only she can produce the material she favors: the blue-diamond fulgurite called
adrastine, by those scholars who know enough of it to distinguish it from adamant or true diamond.
To be sure, its properties mark it as a material of great value - hard as diamond and a fraction the weight, to those who know the ways of shaping it (or have magic of their own to do so; there is little difference between the groups) it is of great use. Furthermore it has a marvellous ability to channel the Essence of Air, particularly in the form of lightning. Despite its rarity - it is found only in the wake of Aemeris' passage, and is valuable enough that little remains once the dust has settled, the greater mass having already been gathered up by those who can endure the pyroclastic mantle - it is valued greatly among artificers and especially makers of weapons and engines of flight. The legendary direlance Vajra is said to have been made from a bolt of adrastine.
There are none in Creation or the Demon City who have such mastery of this material as its creator, however. Amidst the caustic fogs of their eponymous mantle, Aemeris works aboard the great sky-barge
Vismaya, its great length composed entirely of shining adrastine. Agents coordinated by her Warden Soul bring her a myriad of materials and treasures from across the demon realm and beyond, which she flash-forges into new forms of her favored medium. The overwhelming majority of these he either discards entirely or uses in spur-of-the-moment projects or trinkets, but on occasion he will find a use for such a shard in
Vismaya itself, building upon its already-titanic superstructure or replacing a component he considers obsolete.
This great project has been their work since the Primordial War itself. They dimly remember when they sailed their barge among the stars, danced with the gods of possibility and plucked the finest among them for their craft, and works ever to restore it to the grandeur they recall. In truth, they have long since forgotten the specifics and instead work only to make it ever-greater. Perhaps one day it will match their standards. Perhaps not.
In person and character, Aemeris is graceless, irreverent and crass, though earnest and charming to those who she cares to charm. They wear their heart on their sleeve and care little for guarding their tongue or manner. To those he regards well, he is a passionate artist and a generous patron, giving priceless gifts of adrastine and Malfean brass without thought of their value. When they wish to be, they are the very life of a party and an enthusiastic confidant besides, and though they take no long-term lovers they have a number of close friends among the Unquestionable, and even a few Citizens.
Those they regard
ill will receive only a cavalcade of insults and, if they do not remove themselves from their presence or they find their temper particularly short, simply a bolt of their lightning. She cares little for the rank or danger of the object of her ire, and her Warden Soul lives up to his name with his tireless work to keep her from those who she is both ill-disposed towards and who could meaningfully censure her for her insolence.
Summoning (Obscurity 2/4): In the High First Age, the Pyroclasm Forge was summoned for four primary purposes: as a weapon of war to blanket cities and countrysides in caustic vapours and strike down their summoner's foes with lightning and arcane weaponry, as a source of a material Twilight artisans found useful in their crafts, for the use of their great barge - for when summoned it emerges beneath their feet, bearing both them and their summoner up into the air - and finally in their capacity as a craftswoman.
The Pyroclasm Forge may slip the bonds of Malfeas when a manse or other nigh-irreplaceable exemplar of superhuman craftsmanship or artistic talent is damaged, but not totally destroyed, by a volcanic eruption. At such times, he emerges into the sunlit world and immediately sets about repairing and improving the structure, shrouding it in his miasma for weeks or months on end, only returning to Hell when it is complete to his satisfaction or he is banished.
A summons to Creation is one of the few occasions on which the Pyroclasm Forge's true form is revealed, their great pall borne away behind them by the speed of their passage over the Endless Desert. Thus, when they stand before their summoner it is unveiled: bones of alabaster visible through flesh of sapphire and gleaming opal. In truth, one reason why they keep their mantle drawn so close about them is the tireless urging of their faithful Warden soul, who fears that one day the law of Cecelyne may fall upon them for their colouration - it has not yet, but Malensinado attributes this more to his own efforts and his single-minded determination to keep his mistress and the Blue-Glass Maiden from ever meeting than to any mercy on the part of the Endless Desert.
No facet of their appearance besides their substance and their twelve arms remains constant, though, for they are in the habit of re-forging themselves as much as their great sky-barge. Gender is but another means of expression, another form of art, and so they dance between male, female, neuter and stranger denominations as the whim takes them.
Their twelve hands and arms are more often than not adorned with cunning bracers, armlets and armatures of brass and dark iron, the better to draw out their lightning's potency and to shine with its radiance. She crafts new trinkets and baubles daily, often while speaking to another or engaged in a separate project altogether. Their every footstep is a thunderclap, driving pebbles and other small debris from their presence and leaving their tracks a series of circular shockwaves. Their touch spreads patinas of branching char over wood and flesh alike, though they took at least one lover amongst the Exalted Host who could more than bear their touch.
Aemeris in the Althing: Aemeris' involvement in the Reclamation is peripheral at best. They have mentioned offhandedly to their Warden soul that they would like to meet these new Infernal Exalted, but their interest is, for the moment, passing - as always, their craft is their priority. If an Infernal were to befriend them, they would be an uncommonly accommodating patron, asking only for rare materials for their work and lavishing gifts and minor treasures upon the Green Sun Prince. However, they simply do not care enough to be a significant shield in the politics of the Althing Infernal, and allying with them would assuredly make enemies of the many demons the Pyroclasm Forge has offended over the millennia.
