Glorious Shotgun Princess (ME/Exalted) Thread #2

[GreggHL]

The center of the court, populated by many gods. All take forms related to their purviews. Those of trees are wooden, leaves budding off of them as they mill about. Gods of swamps, of dry areas, of plateaus. Of insects and creatures great and small.

A quick check of his extensive vocabulary taken from many worlds and countless languages gives him an appropriate title.

Yokels.

The iris closes to a small hole, as the ball hovers and gently weaves between shuffling insects and scarecrows. Terrestrial Gods, Autochthon thinks to himself. Where are their overseers? Where are the Celestials who are supposed to be hearing their reports? These systems were put in place for a reason damn it.

The air of the court is muggy and wet. Built into a swamp, of course. Flies- some actual flies, some gods in the shape of flies- buzz past him as he glances from side to side. Silver plates rotate around the pupil like a hungry buzz saw. The ball ducks underneath the legs of a massive man made out of wood, past several young women with leafy green skin with vines wrapped around their necks, and clears his throat as he floats to the center of the court.

"Hello! Yes! Hello!" He makes a quick circle. Sees annoyed looks on...faces, maybe. Not sure if everything has a face. Turns to the large rock with arms and a pair of eyes sitting at the front of the court. "Hello, I'm sorry for interrupting but I am in need of a historical update! Could the eldest member of your court please come forward?"

The sounds of heavy footfalls shakes the court. Autochthon turns as a small hill walks over. A hill with feet, covered in moss and saggy vines, walking on eighteen feet and with eyes in a vertical line down its front.

The iris rotates in and out on the front of the sphere. It rises, meeting the level as the top of the hill god as it ambles over. Moss moves and tears to reveal two arms of articulated stone, reaching up and pulling off moss from the crest to reveal a sideways-opening mouth filled with boulders for teeth.

"That would be me." The voice is grinding rocks and crushed stone. The many many eyes all focus up on the golden ball. "And you would be, little ball?"

A deep breath comes out as a harrumph. "I am Autochthon." Thunder cracks overhead. No one looks up. "And I must ask, how old exactly are you?"

Arms akimbo, the hill god extends its legs and stands upright a bit more. Moss and stones fall off as it rights itself. "I am the most ancient god in these lands, ball! I trace my memories all the way back to the high age of the Shogunate itself!"

The iris narrows. Plates shift from the top of the ball. "The what?"

Shaking back and forth, an arm extends out the side of the sphere. Long, skeletal, it ends in two fingers which are then pressed against the top of the sphere. Rubbing his head slash eye, Autochthon lets out a loud groan. "Alright. Just. How old are you? In years?"

The hill god cocks his or its bulk skywards. A muffles hush falls over the court. "Good ball, I am at now my fifteen hundredth birthday!" Muffled gasps and some whimpers. Surprise at the exact number, they say, for few ever remember being that old.

"Fifteen hundred? One thousand, five hundred?" Autochthon nods. "Yes, yes, very impressive, very ancient indeed I have stools older than you!"

A rift opens with a flash of white. A three legged wooden stool jams itself into the muck in front of the golden sphere. "See! See here!" Another arm pops out, pinchers pulling the furniture up. "Master craftsmanship. Iron wood. Wonderfully comfortable. Seventeen hundred years old!"

He tosses it up and away. Behind him, several scarecrow gods dive onto it, fighting over it and pulling at the legs. One larger scarecrow grabs two legs and swings it, bludgeoning his contemporaries and running. "And you are the oldest god here? Is there no one older than you in this entire Terrestrial Direction?"

 

[GreggHL]

Green eyes narrow to glowing red coals. Still cupping Wuffles' chin, Mnemon drops the image of immaculate grace and posh, dignified nobility. Instead, there is only fire in front of the Geth, now. Only the single minded raw avarice and drive. "Tell me," she says, "The last thing she said to you."

The petals extend. If the Geth feel threatened, they do not show such weakness. "The exact words were for Autochthon to instruct his kin that 'The Tiger is now hunting Dragons.'"

Nostrils flare. Her hands release Wuffles' head, turning as the petals flatten against the elongated head. Gold embroidered hands clench into fists as she walks, slowly but dignified. Shoulders rolled back and red lips a tight line. "I was right," she says. Her voice is a quiet whisper, slow and precise. "I. Was right."

She stops at the table, eyes closed. Hands clenching and unclenching. Slow and steady breaths, shoulders rising and falling with each one. And then her leg snaps out and sends the table flipping end over end, crashing on the other side of the room with a roar of "I WAS RIGHT!"

The petals rise and extend fully. The only sound in the room is Mnemon's heavy breathing and the sounds of knuckles cracking under marble. That, and Kal sitting up, raising his hand, and making the first syllable.

"Do not say a word." Mnemon pins him with a glare, and a white rock that has formed in her hand and aimed at his crotch. "You! You say nothing! At all!" Her eyes become glowing coals. The stone cracks to powder, and another takes its place. "You have no idea how cross I am with you! I had to work so hard to find out about the Sidereals! And remember them! And you tell anyone who asks!"

Kal wordlessly collapses onto his back, resting both hands on his bright red face. "Query." Mnemon whirls on the Geth, crushing the second stone in her bare hand and absently creating a third. "Is our hypothesis correct?"

She takes several deep breathes. More powder collects at her feet as she grinds every summoned rock with her bare fingers. Righting herself, standing up tall, she steps out of the ankle high pile of pebbles and powder and nods. "Yes. Yes you are. The woman you encountered in Cecelyne is, in fact, my mother."

She turns, rotating on one heel to the door. "Guards!" The doors burst open. A half dozen men in red samurai armor enter. Eyes glance, but they do not move otherwise, idly surveying the broken table, the semi-conscious Reegar, but keep centered firmly on the Dominae. "Bring us refreshments. And a new table."

She folds her hands at her waist as they exit, dragging the broken table out without a word. Turning to Kal and to Wuffles, she pulls her lips into a faint, cold smile. "Gentlemen. You have successfully graduated from beings I wish to vivisect to beings I wish to interview. Congratulations."

Kal weakly pumps a half-formed fist into the air. "And you," Mnemon half says, have growls, "Get dressed." A gesture, and Wuffles' manacles release. The Geth stumbles forward, and extends their petals as her hand once more cups their chin.

"We have a new hypothesis," they chimes in, "Your usage of the term interview, combined with your so far observed actions, indicates that you intend to interrogate us."

Her smiles goes just a bit wider.

 

[GreggHL]

The chestnut bounces off the golden plate. The plate shifts, and the iris rotates open. Turning, Autochthon stares at the source of the faint annoyance; a man- twice as tall as a man, in fact- make completely out of wood. Wearing leaves for clothing, a vine for a belt, with a jagged, oversides nose and foliage for hair.

Brown lips are clamped down on a branch like a cigar, and he yanks on the vines to make the half dozen nymphs at his side yelp and whimper. Autochthon meets his eyes, and closes the iris to deflect another thrown nut.

"Yes." Autochthon opens his iris. "Can I help you?"

The tree man snorts. "Yeah, you can get ya shiny golden ass outside. Some of us got business here." As if for effect, he yanks the vines again. The nymphs- themselves no taller than a human, grab at their collars.

A plate moves upwards on the iris. "Oh, yes. I see the problem." A widget folds out. A flash of gold and the vines are severed, all six girls dropping to their knees. "There, they should be much happier now. Glad to help." Autochthon turns, then stops and turns back. "And since you threw those nuts at me, don't expect a tip."

Half turning, Autochthon sees it out of the corner of his vision. Turns slightly as one of the nymphs tries to move away, followed by the wood man backhanding her. A long exhaled breath from the golden sphere and he turns back.

"Hn. Seriously. This is an act, right?" The iris narrows. A plate on the right side rises. "Because honestly, you can't be this over-the-top obnoxious, right?" He floats over. Plates along the top shift and move in imitation of a furrowing brow. "I mean, I appreciate performance art, but, honestly?"

Plates on the side shift. "Well...no, no, I honestly don't. I hate performance art." The iris narrows. "Honestly, seriously. Hate it. With a passion. But, of course all my kin loved it and then used that as yet another reason to-"

And then the wood man slaps another nymph, grabbing her by the hair. Holding the six girls in one hand, either by the hair or by the throats, the massive wood creature ignores Autochthon's ramblings. Which then cease. "Okay. Seriously." The iris narrows almost completely. "Stop that."

The six nymphs struggle in the Wood King's hand as it leans its oversized nose right into the eye and whacks him with the branch cigar. "You. Shut up." And for extra effect, he then slaps the ball with his free hand.

The plates shift. The iris narrows. "You. You just slapped me."

The large wooden hand again whacks against the golden sphere, followed by a low chuckle from the giant. "Seriously." The golden ball tilts up. Around them, the local gods start backing away. Murmuring of 'not being a good idea' and 'the king's pissed'. "Stop that. Or you'll make me angry."

The fingers curl, and the Wood King smirks as he flicks a long, leaf covered finger directly into the eye. "And why's that?"

And then, rather than staring at the ball, he finds himself staring at a wall made of solid gold. Looking up, he realizes soon enough that it is actually the gut- slightly distended, slightly off balance- of a golden giant man. He looks up, further up. At twice his height, the two facet cut eyes stare down at him, and the grill covering the lower half of his face discharge steam.

The left arm comes up. The hand opens, and the right fist grinds into it. Steam blasts out of the joints of the giant battle body. When Autochthon speaks, it is with a slow, level tone. And an answer.

"That's why."

 

[GreggHL]

Thirty Minutes of Stress Relief Later.

Grunting, the giant lifts his foot out of the splinters. "Oh...damn it. I got sap all over this." A digital click of the tongue and the facet eyes roll. "Well, well. Back to Elsewhere with you." A cough. He looks down to see the head of the Wood King still moving. "Oh right."

Autochthon extends his arm. A spear thrusts out, into and through the mouth, and pulls the head back in. "Right. You're fuel, now."

The battlesuit begins dissolving. It flows into white, turning liquid and fading away, releasing the eye as it drops down from the chest and hovers off the ground. "Yes, yes yes yes. No need wasting all that good Essence. Doesn't grow on trees no wait it does." The eye glances around. Sees the empty amphitheater. "Balls. They all ran away."

He turns with a sigh, muttering about how now he has to find some other damn court of idiots and yokels, and sees the six nymphs huddled together. "Oh. Oh, yes. Sorry about that." He coughs. "Tend to get carried away. Can I help you?"

The six girls rush him, all six sloppily kissing him on the top of the head and running out of the enclosure, laughing and cheering the entire way. A plate rises on the side of his head. The iris narrows. "Well."

The plates relax. Autochthon turns, releasing a long held in sigh and then comes face to face with a human girl standing in front of him. The iris opens and he emits a high pitched, warbling cry of alarm.

The girl smiles with bright white teeth and stands on her tip toes. "Hi!" And then lunges forward to hug the ball.

The iris shifts. The eye glances from side to side, then at the girl. She has short, messy golden white hair, a gap toothed smile, black eyes and dressed in white. Also, young. No older than eleven or twelve he guesses. The smile itself keys him in. The lack of knives, also.

"Kamilla?"

The girl nods. "Yep!" She releases the ball, and promptly climbs on top, sitting on him as two plates shrug and he begins lazily floating out of the court. "Sorry for surprising you, Uncle Auto, but you were ranting and stuff and you were really lonely!"

The iris narrows, then relaxes and opens. "Well. I do appreciate the company." They pass the border of the Court, not seeing the minor gods shuffling back in and descending on the wood king's remains. "Still, when did you re-assume human form?"

"Just now." Her hands rest on the top of the sphere. Plates shift. A pair rise behind her to give her a better seat. Two golden handles pop out in front of her. "I've been really thinking and stuff since I started following you and Mister Reegar, and I kinda decided I wanted to talk with people and stuff."

"Just like that?" The side plates shrug. The two pass a set up uprooted trees and a Yeddim swimming along the swamp, carrying a moss man on the back. "I don't mind the company at all. But does your mother know where you are?"

The girl nods, blonde hair bobbing up and down. Autochthon closes the iris shut. "Oh dear." He coughs. "Well! I'm sure that she would approve anyway, because I never had the feeling she actively hated me."

"Mama doesn't hate anyone, Uncle Auto!" The girl giggles, sitting up straight on her ball saddle. "Mama always told us that hate is an attachment, and any attachments leave you sad and crying! An' if you let go of attachments, then you'll be free to do anything!"

She nods. "An' also, she can follow us anywhere!" The ball coughs. "Well, not here 'cause of oathy stuff and stuff, but if she can get to us she can always show up!"

They clear the swamp, floating over flat grassland and past distant fires. The faint murmur of realization in the mind of the maker as Kamilla hums along with the almost silent motions of the sphere. The part of Autochthon's mind that realizes that, yes. He was wrong. He had underestimated everything, and all his plans are ashes.

"And now what?" he asks himself.

"Well, now we should find Mister Reegar and Mister Wuffles, Uncle Auto."

The iris snaps open. The ball lowers and Kamilla climbs off. "Oh f I mean drat. I did abandon them to look for my sky skiff." A skeletal, wiry golden arm folds out and scratches the top of the sphere. "I have no idea where they are."

Kamilla rocks back and forth on the heels of her brown shoes. "I do! I was following Mister Reegar and Mister Wuffles and I know where they are!" The eye turns to her. Another yeddim stomps past them, towards the swamp. "They've been captured by dragonblooded!"

The iris closes again. "...well." The skeletal arm drops. "That's not good. That needs a rescue. Or something. Else. Which I'm not good at."

The ball begins floating away, dragging the skeletal arm behind it. Kamilla skips alongside it, picking up the arm and taking its hand. "No no no! I think you'd be great at that! Mama always said that if you want something done right, it's gotta be done by you!"

The eye turns to her. Stopping, several plates rise around the iris. "By me? You have a suggestion?"

She smiles, wide and open and displaying all the teeth. "Yep! We can't rescue them like this, right?" The eye nods. "So you should fix up something to rescue them with!"

The iris snaps open. Lightning crackles in the cavity. "Oh. Did you see something when looking for me? Something I can fix up?"

The girl nods. She leans in and whispers it in his ear, and the lightning becomes brighter, and bright. And it starts as a small rumble, like crackling thunder deep within the sphere. Becoming louder, and louder with regular thumps. It becomes a laugh, cackling and deep, joyous and insane.

"Oh. Oh yes. Perfect. Perfect!" The saddle expands, becoming a seat with a back rest. "Come, my niece! Show me the way and we shall get to work! And we shall effect a rescue of the type that shall be seen all the way from Hell!"

The girl leaps into her seat, gripping the handles as Auto retracts the arms and vents open in the back. "Let us get to work! For science!"

The girl pumps her arm into the air. "AND GREAT JUSTICE!" The vents flare, and the mad inventor- and niece- speed off into the distance.

 

[GreggHL]

"Okay. So." The pen moves on its own. It is an artifact, she explained, which means it has magical properties and utilizes Essence. It listens to them, and writes in response. "Your stars are engines, utilizing colliding gas to create heat and light." White fingers tap together. "I can see how that works."

Her index fingers press against her lips. "Additionally, it is the rotation of your worlds- which are round, which causes gravity. A simplistic explanation, yes, but close to accuracy." A contemplating hum. "Fascinating. Apparently, our universes use similar concepts, but the explanations are different in some areas."

Sitting on the other side of the white jade, rectangular table, Kal adjusts the two ice packs tied to either side of his jaw. His helmet rests on the table next to the sword. He has, wisely, not spoken.

"We agree," Wuffles continues. The Geth has split their hand into four fingers. Their pinky extends as they sip their tea, somehow. "The behavior of the animistic least gods is very similar to chemical and molecular properties. Where the least gods of wood and fire communicate to create heat, energy, and charcoal, in our universe it is the interactions of matter and energy."

Mnemon nods. "Interesting." She sips her tea, eyes still focused on the pile of gods in front of her. "Now, on a different subject. There are humans where you come from."

The petals extend. "We find that subject curious. A cursory examination of the raider that Creator Kal'Reegar killed confirmed that the anatomical structure of humans in Creation are the same as those in our universe. Additionally, there is the resemblance between yourself and Shepard Commander."

The Geth sips their tea. They take a biscuit from the tray next to them. A compartment opens next to the hole in their chest, and they deposit it inside to the sound of something grinding. "We are not sure if this is coincidence. Considering the common factor of Autochthon, we do not believe so."

Marble fingers tap. "That term. 'Creator', towards him." She inclines her head towards Kal. "What does that mean, exactly? Did he create you?"

The petals extend again. "Negative. Creator Kal'Reegar's species, the Quarians, created the Geth, our species, two hundred and ninety eight years ago." The petals flatten. Sitting in the plush, high backed chair, Wuffles crosses their legs. "We are a collection of Virtual Intelligences which combine together to create an Artificial Intelligence. In your terminology, we are Least Gods that combine to become an Animating Intelligence."

A well-manicured eyebrow rises. "You're remarkably wise for an animating intelligence." She dabs a biscuit into her tea. Places it on the plate next to the cup. "Still. I do have...grattitude...regarding the news about...Mother."

"That she's alive?" Mnemon narrows her eyes and glances at Kal as he speaks up. The quarian shrugs. "If it's any consolation, you hit harder than her."

Her nostrils flare, slightly. "We are curious about the governmental system." She glances back at Wuffles. "Your mother, from your description, is the absolute monarch. Considering her age, did she not appoint an official heir?"

Her elbows rest on the arms of the chair. Hands folded in front of her mouth, her eyes burn like coals. After a long moment and an exhaled breath, she closes them. "No. She did not. I suspect she organized the entire government to collapse without her. And the best explanation I have come up with, outside of it being amusing to her, is that it was the point." She laughs, bitterly.

The light shifts. Wuffles tents their hands in front of them, merging the fingers back into two digits. "This is an inefficient way to run a government. Our study and questions with Autochthon have indicated that you would be able to organize a more efficient system outside of your country."

She purses her lips, eyes narrowed and brow furrowed. She opens her mouth to respond- and then the tea ripples. They perk their ears at the sound of...something. Loud, booming. But muted.

"What is that?" she asks. She rises from the chair, sweeping out her dress and walking out of the room. Kal and Wuffles glance at each other, shrug, and follow. Kal fixes on his helmet as they catch up to her, the sounds getting louder and louder.

"What is that?" Mnemon demands. They hear more sounds from outside. Yells, shouts. Footsteps of people- soldiers- running. "What is that?" she repeats, walking towards the main entrance- a massive set of double doors lined with gold and jade, and throws them open.

And she freezes, looking up. Up, up, up. Further up until she sees the source of the thunder. Eyes go wide. Jaw hangs open. The same question is repeated, louder and with less curiosity than dumbstruck horror.

"What is that?!"

 

[GreggHL]

"Okay. So." The pen moves on its own. It is an artifact, she explained, which means it has magical properties and utilizes Essence. It listens to them, and writes in response. "Your stars are engines, utilizing colliding gas to create heat and light." White fingers tap together. "I can see how that works."

Her index fingers press against her lips. "Additionally, everything in your universe is natrually attracted to each other- and this is what causes gravity. A simplistic explanation, yes, but close to accuracy." A contemplating hum. "Fascinating. Apparently, our universes use similar concepts, but the explanations are different in some areas."

Sitting on the other side of the white jade, rectangular table, Kal adjusts the two ice packs tied to either side of his jaw. His helmet rests on the table next to the sword. He has, wisely, not spoken.

"We agree," Wuffles continues. The Geth has split their hand into four fingers. Their pinky extends as they sip their tea, somehow. "The behavior of the animistic least gods is very similar to chemical and molecular properties. Where the least gods of wood and fire communicate to create heat, energy, and charcoal, in our universe it is the interactions of matter and energy."

Mnemon nods. "Interesting." She sips her tea, eyes still focused on the pile of gods in front of her. "Now, on a different subject. There are humans where you come from."

The petals extend. "We find that subject curious. A cursory examination of the raider that Creator Kal'Reegar killed confirmed that the anatomical structure of humans in Creation are the same as those in our universe. Additionally, there is the resemblance between yourself and Shepard Commander."

The Geth sips their tea. They take a biscuit from the tray next to them. A compartment opens next to the hole in their chest, and they deposit it inside to the sound of something grinding. "We are not sure if this is coincidence. Considering the common factor of Autochthon, we do not believe so."

Marble fingers tap. "That term. 'Creator', towards him." She inclines her head towards Kal. "What does that mean, exactly? Did he create you?"

The petals extend again. "Negative. Creator Kal'Reegar's species, the Quarians, created the Geth, our species, two hundred and ninety eight years ago." The petals flatten. Sitting in the plush, high backed chair, Wuffles crosses their legs. "We are a collection of Virtual Intelligences which combine together to create an Artificial Intelligence. In your terminology, we are Least Gods that combine to become an Animating Intelligence."

A well-manicured eyebrow rises. "You're remarkably wise for an animating intelligence." She dabs a biscuit into her tea. Places it on the plate next to the cup. "Still. I do have...grattitude...regarding the news about...Mother."

"That she's alive?" Mnemon narrows her eyes and glances at Kal as he speaks up. The quarian shrugs. "If it's any consolation, you hit harder than her."

Her nostrils flare, slightly. "We are curious about the governmental system." She glances back at Wuffles. "Your mother, from your description, is the absolute monarch. Considering her age, did she not appoint an official heir?"

Her elbows rest on the arms of the chair. Hands folded in front of her mouth, her eyes burn like coals. After a long moment and an exhaled breath, she closes them. "No. She did not. I suspect she organized the entire government to collapse without her. And the best explanation I have come up with, outside of it being amusing to her, is that it was the point." She laughs, bitterly.

The light shifts. Wuffles tents their hands in front of them, merging the fingers back into two digits. "This is an inefficient way to run a government. Our study and questions with Autochthon have indicated that you would be able to organize a more efficient system outside of your country."

She purses her lips, eyes narrowed and brow furrowed. She opens her mouth to respond- and then the tea ripples. They perk their ears at the sound of...something. Loud, booming. But muted.

"What is that?" she asks. She rises from the chair, sweeping out her dress and walking out of the room. Kal and Wuffles glance at each other, shrug, and follow. Kal fixes on his helmet as they catch up to her, the sounds getting louder and louder.

"What is that?" Mnemon demands. They hear more sounds from outside. Yells, shouts. Footsteps of people- soldiers- running. "What is that?" she repeats, walking towards the main entrance- a massive set of double doors lined with gold and jade, and throws them open.

And she freezes, looking up. Up, up, up. Further up until she sees the source of the thunder. Eyes go wide. Jaw hangs open. The same question is repeated, louder and with less curiosity than dumbstruck horror.

"What is that?!"




Clouds gather around the flat, stubby head. Spines run the length of the back of its short neck all the way down its spine, as the black and rusted armor shifts with every pull of its ancient and unbreakable sinews. A grill covers the bottom of its head, arranged like a mindless rictus grin, and neon pink eyes glow before releasing the first of the beams.

Silhouetted by the light of the moon, it does not roar. The thundering sounds are its footsteps as each steps brings it closer and closer towards the Realm encampment. Ballista-launched lances embed themselves into its armor but do nothing. Blasts of Essence from the wall mounted cannons wash off the armor.

Leveling hands, blasts of pink and white ripple out. The walls buckle. Dragonblooded hit by the beams float up and into the pulsing green at the center of its torso, disappearing into the distance to an unknown destination. As they disappear, the true scale becomes apparent when they are mere specks against the ancient giant.

The three stare at it, standing at the gate of Mnemon's command center. Kal's jaw hangs open. Wuffles extends their petals and tilts their head. "We have amended our hypothesis. We are also here to protect Creation from Autochthon."

Kal reaches out and pats Wuffles on the shoulder. "I think that hypothesis is proven, buddy."

"Yes! HELLO!" The voice comes not from the giant, but from behind them. They turn, and Mnemon tilts her head and stares at the three-meter-tall golden giant standing in front of them. Kal and Wuffles recognize Autochthon's grill-faced battle form, and dive for cover.

"Who..." she starts, but is interrupted by a voice that booms almost as loudly as the giant's footsteps.

"I! Am Autochthon!" Thunder cracks over head. Then Autochthon punches Mnemon in the face. She blurs backwards, extending a hand with gathering vermillion light. Then the shockwave hits and blasts her across the encampment and embeds her into the far wall.

Kal and Wuffles stare at the wall, then turn back at Auto. "Kal'Reegar! Wuffles! I have come to rescue you!"
Wuffles extends his petals. Kal works his jaw underneath his helmet. "Are you sure?"

The eyes spark, and a dome of electricity lights up around him to electrocute a pair of blood apes that have appeared on his back. "Damn monkeys but yes! I am quite certain!" Autochthon grabs them in his giant robot hands, and runs off into the night, whooping all the way and pursued by the dozens of materializing Blood Apes.

 

[GreggHL]

Some distance away, Kal Reegar rests his helmet on his knees. He forgot the sword back at the compound. His jaw is still aching, as is the rest of his face. Sitting on a rock in the middle of a dense forest, he rests his head on his hands and glances from side to side. Wuffles is standing ramrod straight. The iris is flicking from side to side. Hopefully recording this.

Next to him, the blonde human girl is sitting cross legged on the rock, watching with interest. He hasn't asked who she is, or why she was waiting for them. His gut feeling tells him that Auto may have science'd her family out of existence or something.

In the distance, the ridiculously massive robot continues its rampage, most likely depopulating countries.
On the bright side, he is now watching Autochthon in his battle body flailing around, with a half dozen Blood Apes on his arms and back and repeatedly hitting him with machetes.

"Aaaaah! Ah! Ah! Ah!" The robot stumbles about, swatting at the elcor-with-human-faces as they beat and stab at him. "Get your cursed weapons off of me, you damned dirty Blood Apes!"

The three watch the robot run past, listening to the discharge of essence cannons. Then they hear more screaming, and watch as Auto runs past while being chased by a pair of very large and incredibly pretty wasps.

"So," Kal starts, and quiets down as Auto runs past, pursued by white deer made of worms. Kal blinks, and turns to the girl. "So. Who're you?"

She smiles, wide and with many teeth. "I'm Kamilla!"

Wuffles extends their petals fully. Kal works his jaw. "So, you're the body dragging wind that's been following us?" Kamilla nods with a giggle. "Okay. Question." Kal raises a finger, chewing his lower lip. "Where do you take those bodies?"

Kamilla giggles, rocking back and forth on the rock. "I'll never tee~eell," she sing-songs.

The forest flashes with gold, like the sun rising or a massive essence cannon being fired. The armor lurches back, golden smoke wafting off of it before disappearing and leaving the floating eye. "Yes. Well. That may be the last of them, in theory." A cough, and he floats over. "Excellent. We're all alive. Which is not necessarily problematic, as Kamilla did call claim to your bodies if the Dragonblooded killed you."

Kamilla giggles, earning an alarmed glance from the quarian and the Geth. Kal coughs, and points a finger as the cloud-clearing head of the metal colossus lumbers past. "Okay. Thanks for the rescue. What is that?"

Auto turns. Narrows his iris. As if he has to remember he summoned it and unleashed it on the Mnemon encampment. "Ahhh yes! Radiant Majestic Presence, a construct I created when I absconded from Creation thousands of years ago." He turns back to them. Several sparks stream out of the plates. "Yes, don't worry about those Terrestrials! Originally, the beams would shunt them to Autochthonia, but I have actually set it to link with the Design, so hence it will just send them to...ah...well, in your home universe, actually. Somewhere. Not in space, but planet or station. Maybe. Not sure!"

Kal rests his head in his hands, palms pressed against his eyes. The iris of the golden sphere narrows. A slow running spark glows behind it. "And...ah. And I...I...I seem to no longer have control over it." Several plates on top shift up. "Oh dear."

The giant begins moving off with thunderous foot stomps. Arrows, ballistas, and Essence cannons pepper its back to no effect. "Auto," Kal moans, "Where's it going?"

A map appears, hanging in front of the eye. "Mm hm let me see. Got this map from a local terrestrial god." The eye glances up, then back down. Then up again, looking at the stars. Then back down. "Hm. Mm. Yes." He turns back to the group. "It's heading to Gem."

The iris cycles shut. Kal moans and Wuffles extends all the petals. "Well I'm reasonably sure an organized circle of Exalts can stop it so ONWARD!" The ball floats off. Or, at least, before Kal grabs him by a gap in his plates.

 

[GreggHL]

The moon hangs above them, silver light streaming through the canopy as the four move. Wuffles and Kal walk behind the ball as Kamilla sits on the seat on top of Auto. The sounds of distant thunder become quieter and quieter. All in all, they counted at least five dozen people being sucked into that...well, giant robot.

Kal hopes none of them ended up in the Flotilla. "Okay, so," he says, breaking the silence as they pass a set of bent over trees, "Auto, did you find your sky skiff?"

A slow, rumbling cough. Slowly, the globe rotates, hovering backwards for a bit before stopping. Kamilla hops off, skipping over next to Wuffles. Glancing from side to side, the globe wobbles back and forth. Coughing, clearing his throat. Feeling the eyes on him.

"Ah. Mm. Hm hm. Yes." Another cough. "Well! Change of plans. Yes."

Another long, hacking cough. Followed by the iris shutting, two long arms extending from underneath the sphere, and two sets of thumbs twiddling. "I...maaaaaay have underestimated the effects of the Great Curse. Especially on the Solars, as of course they were merely acting as the Sun. As arrogant, full of purpose and flush with power and ruling over all of Creation with a golden fist."

Kal rolls his hand, motioning for Auto to continue. Then adds, "Okay, and?"

Another cough. "Ahem. And. Well. Let's see what happened oh yessssss some years ago the Solars were all killed by the Dragonblooded and the entire Deliberative was slaughtered and I can't contact the Sun and-"

"And?" Kal's eyes go wide. "And?"

The golden ball sucks at non-existent teeth. "Ah and Creation is half or maybe a quarter as big as I left it. And ninety percent of everything died in a massive plague. And civilization has fallen." A beat. Another cough. "Twice."

Wuffles extends their petals. Then, folds them back down. Kamilla purses her lips, rocking back and forth on her heels. Kal just holds his head in his hands. "Oh God," he moans.

Autochthon shifts the plates around his iris. Several red eyes in the forest around them flicker and close, shuffling away. "I...am sorry I was under the impression, after cultural research, that the Quarians did not have gods but practiced ancestor worship-"

"Oh god I hate you so much," Kal moans. He looks up, narrowing yellow eyes. "Auto. Answer me. How many people are there left in this entire universe that you know?"

The eye shifts side to side. Kamilla walks over to a rock, sitting on it. "Ah. Hm. Yes...ah! Twenty."

"And how many," Kal growls, "Will not kill you on sight?"

Autochthon narrows the iris. For long seconds, he thinks. Plates move, rotating. The golden fingers press together. "Ah hah! Yes! Seven. Seven people, in all of Creation."

Kal nods. Silently, he shifts over and sits down on a rock. He reaches over, tapping his left wrist. The omnitool flashes and powers down. Resting his face in his hands he begins swearing, at length, in native quarian dialects.

Wuffles extends his petals, walks over, and open-hand slaps Autochthon.

 

[GreggHL]

There was the light, and the sound of rushing sand, burning air, glass and brass. What was the world of Creation became something else- stretched out into infinity following the strike of the mysterious giant automaton. An eternity, followed by the whirr and hiss of some sort of sorcery and a question of 'what does this lever do?'

The shift was long, painful, and disorienting. Six trained and loyal landing in the middle of a great domed room five days after they were taken in a torrent of light and silver sand. Armed and in armor, their battle with the giant ended and finding themselves surrounded by mortals of many colors, shapes and sizes. But all mortal. The Dynasts were more than that, however. And they were armed; in Jade plate and their artifact weapons.

Unarmed, the mortals quickly surrendered. Herded, surrounded, the Dynasts of the House of Mnemon claimed this place- this Food Court- for the Realm. Waiting for orders, discussing in High Realm who was the senior amongst them. They were too distracted- the dome of stars and milky green above them, the demons and mortals they had found of which no Dynast had seen before. The very material of the floor they stood on was alien to them, and the artifacts that the mortals had at their disposal was a type of magic they had never seen before.

So distracted were they that they did not see the mortal who had escaped their attack until he had already crossed the Court they stood in.

The mortal ignored their gaze, their glare. Fearless, he walked past them, to a box- some sort of artifact- which he touched and which dispensed a white bag. Turning back to them, he hops onto a table, takes a handful of the substance inside, and begins eating it.

He touches the back of his left hand. An orange sphere surrounds it, a brace of light surrounding his forearm.

"Hey," he says, in perfect High Realm, "Let me explain this. I," he presses a hand to his chest, "Am Jeff Moreau. That girl, there?" The dynasts let their gaze wander to where he points. A young woman with red hair and glasses, a spear pointed directly into her face, "Is Jenny Shepard."

He throws another handful of the white, fluffy substance into his mouth. "And this." he says, voice muffled by food, "Is going to be amazing."




Mnemon Kurinei has a moment to wonder why the mortal's lips don't move in time with the words he is saying. One hand still on the daiklave in his right hand, he is so focused on the odd mortal that he is caught by complete surprise when the hand grabs his shoulder and whirls him around.

His eyes go wide, catching the details of the face. "Lady Domine-" Which is all he gets out before the fist slams into his jaw and sends him flying over the gathered mortals, over his fellow Dynasts, and head first into a support beam on the other side of the foodcourt.

The other Dynasts turn as the woman cracks her knuckles and rolls her neck. A spitting image of the head of House Mnemon, clad in the same odd blue and black clothing as many of the other mortals, she bares teeth as she stalks towards them.

"Hello there," she growls, "I'm Jane. Which one of you chucklefucks just pointed a spear at my cousin?"

 

[GreggHL]

"So." A cough. "What are we doing, and how will this inadvertently end the world?"

Autochthon turns, looking up at Kal. Standing next to Wuffles on the hill clearing the forest, the group stands under the light of the moon. The thunders have quieted, after two days and two nights walking through the thick forest. Either they are far enough away from the giant, or someone stopped it.

Either or. "I had an idea," the mad inventor ball explains, "I'm trying to get the attention of one of the people in Creation who I still know. People. Sort of." The plates shift around the eye. "Yes."

Kal glares at the ball, arms folded. Wuffles extends their petals and cocks their head. Kamilla, as always, remains cheerful. "Okay," Kal groans, "Is this one of the seven people who don't want to kill you?"

The iris shifts, narrows. "Would you like an honest answer?"

Kal's knuckles crack as his hands ball into fists. "Right, well," Auto continues, "This is not one of those ah seven but not because they hated me." The iris shifts. "More that they were terrified of me."

Wuffles extends their petals. "We have several hypothesis on the cause of such fear."

Kal tosses his helmet over to Wuffles, massaging his temples with a loud groan. "Okay. Okay." He sucks in a deep breath as an owl perches on Wuffles, staring at the group. "Okay. Seriously. Okay." Pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes, he turns from Auto and looks up at the moon.

He glances at Wuffles. "Hey, buddy. How long've we been up here?"

"We have been standing in this spot for three hours, fifteen minutes."

Kal nods. Turning back to the group, he points at the moon. "And is it me, or has the moon not moved since we got here?"

Auto turns, glancing up with a high pitched warble. "No! No! It has! It has!" A burst of steam from the sides of the globe. "Well. No, no. Optical illusion at best. See? Anyway." The eye dips down and he turns back to them.

"Well...well. The thing is, we're trying to beseech the favor of a Celestial God. This is, well." A cough, the ball bobbing up and down. "Well, this is not something that is responded to directly. We will most likely receive a dream, or a vision, much like the vision I had-"

"Wait." Kal raises a hand. "We're here because you had a vision?"

The eye nods. "Yes! Yes, of course! I received a vision of a mad old tramp with silver hair and milky white eyes to come here and stand in the light of the moon!" The plates shift into a shrug. "After all, that's perfectly sensible with the metaphysics. Now it may take some time to get a response so we should probably find shelter or-"

"Holeeee shit when did you get here?"

Autochthon turns, the iris opens, and he emits a shriek of the purest, most palpable terror before a pair of hands grab him by the plates.

-End Chapter 3-