I'm going to go out on a limb here and say...Pulsor93 said:
No.
Not on SB, not in GreggHL's works.
Glorious Shotgun Princess (ME/Exalted) Thread #2
- Thread starter GreggHL
- Start date
No.
Not on SB, not in GreggHL's works.
GreggHL
Engaging hilarity engine/air intake
- Location
- Daejeon, Republic of Korea
"So," Jane says. Covers pulled up over her bare chest, she taps her fingers on her stomach. "This happened."
The bed tilts. Next to her, Autochthon cradles his head in the hands of his battle form and continues smoking his cigarette.
The bed tilts. Next to her, Autochthon cradles his head in the hands of his battle form and continues smoking his cigarette.
The Bushranger
In the Danger Zone
- Location
- TSAB Asura
- Location
- Singapore
Ah, but Merela was a Dawn.horngeek said:
If that particular romance were to occur again, more likely it would have been Javik.
Enjoy the imagery.
GreggHL
Engaging hilarity engine/air intake
- Location
- Daejeon, Republic of Korea
They are lead, over a plain the size of worlds. He does not know how he made it this far, but the horizon shifts with every step. He feels a great shudder beneath him, as Protector leads the precession of millions through the golden plain towards the single deformation Kal can see.
It starts out as a simple bulge in the metal. But with every step, it shifts. It grows. It becomes a pedestal, and then steps. Then it becomes a massive, flat pyramid of gold and brick, with steps leading to an altar upon the top.
Then it becomes more. Pillars of gold. Pillars of crystal. Pillars of lightning, solid and not burning those who pass by it. Pillars of smoke, solid despite being a gas. Pillars of oil, shifting and flowing even in its fixed, solid state.
The gold ripples like water under bare feet. It moves like liquid, yet still solid, ringing like bells with every step. She descends from the pyramid, taking form as she appears. Ever shifting, ever becoming, the procession stopping as she approaches. The wind bends to her, moving hair like amber grains past her shoulders.
Eyes flecked with gold meet Kal's, and he tucks Autochthon under his arm and falls to one knee. He has seen this woman before, he realizes. He has seen her every time he has closed his eyes.
She solidifies more and more with every step. The hem of a long tan skirt appears as she comes closer. A ribbon holds back the flaxen hair. The tan and white gown that surrounds her, finalizing it's shape. Folding her hands behind her, as the long sleeves flap in the wind, she stops.
And she smiles.
"Kal'Reegar nar Rayya." Her voice is like wind on a dusty road. Like the thumping heartbeat during a long run. Like the scent of a place he has never been to before. "We have waited for you to come. We have known you would come. And your destiny has finally brought you here."
He stands, eyes meeting hers. Words dying on his lips, but needing not to be said. Unbidden, the cool corpse of Autochthon rises from his hands and floats to hers, just as he finally realizes there are two other women standing with her; in step with her, but standing behind her.
One with blue hair tinged with red, a long blue gown grown with crystal and hanging knives upon the loose bracelets. The second he cannot see complete; the emerald hood hides her face, save for the faint whisps of white hair. She stands still, hands in sleeves, folded against each other- Watching through eyes he cannot see. Standing still and present like death itself.
"You have come far," the woman- more than a woman- before him continues, "And your journeys shall lead you ever onward. I am Mercury. I am the Maiden of Expansion, and first of the Maidens of Destiny."
It starts out as a simple bulge in the metal. But with every step, it shifts. It grows. It becomes a pedestal, and then steps. Then it becomes a massive, flat pyramid of gold and brick, with steps leading to an altar upon the top.
Then it becomes more. Pillars of gold. Pillars of crystal. Pillars of lightning, solid and not burning those who pass by it. Pillars of smoke, solid despite being a gas. Pillars of oil, shifting and flowing even in its fixed, solid state.
The gold ripples like water under bare feet. It moves like liquid, yet still solid, ringing like bells with every step. She descends from the pyramid, taking form as she appears. Ever shifting, ever becoming, the procession stopping as she approaches. The wind bends to her, moving hair like amber grains past her shoulders.
Eyes flecked with gold meet Kal's, and he tucks Autochthon under his arm and falls to one knee. He has seen this woman before, he realizes. He has seen her every time he has closed his eyes.
She solidifies more and more with every step. The hem of a long tan skirt appears as she comes closer. A ribbon holds back the flaxen hair. The tan and white gown that surrounds her, finalizing it's shape. Folding her hands behind her, as the long sleeves flap in the wind, she stops.
And she smiles.
"Kal'Reegar nar Rayya." Her voice is like wind on a dusty road. Like the thumping heartbeat during a long run. Like the scent of a place he has never been to before. "We have waited for you to come. We have known you would come. And your destiny has finally brought you here."
He stands, eyes meeting hers. Words dying on his lips, but needing not to be said. Unbidden, the cool corpse of Autochthon rises from his hands and floats to hers, just as he finally realizes there are two other women standing with her; in step with her, but standing behind her.
One with blue hair tinged with red, a long blue gown grown with crystal and hanging knives upon the loose bracelets. The second he cannot see complete; the emerald hood hides her face, save for the faint whisps of white hair. She stands still, hands in sleeves, folded against each other- Watching through eyes he cannot see. Standing still and present like death itself.
"You have come far," the woman- more than a woman- before him continues, "And your journeys shall lead you ever onward. I am Mercury. I am the Maiden of Expansion, and first of the Maidens of Destiny."
GreggHL
Engaging hilarity engine/air intake
- Location
- Daejeon, Republic of Korea
What, you thought the Maidens were exactly the same in both universes?horngeek said:
GreggHL
Engaging hilarity engine/air intake
- Location
- Daejeon, Republic of Korea
The sphere rises from her hand. It floats, past her, to between the three women. "You have come far," Mercury continues, "And your journeys will be vast and fruitful. But for now, you have brought back the Maker. One before he fell, and it was through the efforts of not Gods but mortals that he was returned."
She extends a hand to the gathered. To the Alchemicals. "Once more, can the death of Autochthon be fought back?" She bows her head, hand still extended. "I leave that to you, Champions."
Next to Kal, Protector tucks a foot underneath, bringing himself down onto one knee and head bowed. One by one, the Alchemical Host bows their heads. Some fall to their knees and touch their heads to the golden plane. Some clasp their hands before them. Some whisper, mouthing and speaking in dead tongues.
The largest make the air creak as they supplicate themselves. The colossi make the ground shudder as they lower their faces.
Next to Kal, Iri clasps two hands together, eight eyes closed and whispering. Kal closes his eyes, fists clenching and unclenching. He has never been one to pray. He did, when asked. He did, when he was supposed to, but he never believed. "Don't know if I still do," he whispers, "But...fuck. Tali will be pissed if that spast little thing dies here."
A faint smirk. He sighs, opening his eyes. "Dunno if there's anyone listening," he mutters to himself, barely audible, "Dunno if it's the ancestors, something else...but c'mon. Little bastard just saved the galaxy. He deserves better than this."
And the sky is split by a bolt of lightning that strikes between the three Maidens. It makes the Alchemicals cover their ears. It cracks the sky with a roar of thunder. It makes all assembled avert their eyes. It makes the ground beneath them jump and shudder, and all of them look away. And when the light clears, as the ground beneath them steadies, they hear a faint, wheezing cough.
It is rasping, and loud. It has mutterings and small swears behind it.
It is coming from the golden sphere now hovering between the Maidens. Golden sheen restored, the silver iris folding out to reveal a spark once more healthy and pulsing, the sphere shifts in place. Turning from side to side, it looks down, and then turns up to stare at the pole stabbing into the sky, before it finally speaks.
"I am alive?" Autochthon asks. He gets no answer, and glances at the Maidens. "I am alive! I'm alive! Yes, contractions. Excellent!"
She extends a hand to the gathered. To the Alchemicals. "Once more, can the death of Autochthon be fought back?" She bows her head, hand still extended. "I leave that to you, Champions."
Next to Kal, Protector tucks a foot underneath, bringing himself down onto one knee and head bowed. One by one, the Alchemical Host bows their heads. Some fall to their knees and touch their heads to the golden plane. Some clasp their hands before them. Some whisper, mouthing and speaking in dead tongues.
The largest make the air creak as they supplicate themselves. The colossi make the ground shudder as they lower their faces.
Next to Kal, Iri clasps two hands together, eight eyes closed and whispering. Kal closes his eyes, fists clenching and unclenching. He has never been one to pray. He did, when asked. He did, when he was supposed to, but he never believed. "Don't know if I still do," he whispers, "But...fuck. Tali will be pissed if that spast little thing dies here."
A faint smirk. He sighs, opening his eyes. "Dunno if there's anyone listening," he mutters to himself, barely audible, "Dunno if it's the ancestors, something else...but c'mon. Little bastard just saved the galaxy. He deserves better than this."
And the sky is split by a bolt of lightning that strikes between the three Maidens. It makes the Alchemicals cover their ears. It cracks the sky with a roar of thunder. It makes all assembled avert their eyes. It makes the ground beneath them jump and shudder, and all of them look away. And when the light clears, as the ground beneath them steadies, they hear a faint, wheezing cough.
It is rasping, and loud. It has mutterings and small swears behind it.
It is coming from the golden sphere now hovering between the Maidens. Golden sheen restored, the silver iris folding out to reveal a spark once more healthy and pulsing, the sphere shifts in place. Turning from side to side, it looks down, and then turns up to stare at the pole stabbing into the sky, before it finally speaks.
"I am alive?" Autochthon asks. He gets no answer, and glances at the Maidens. "I am alive! I'm alive! Yes, contractions. Excellent!"
UrsaTempest
Don't Panic!
It is awesome, alright. But... what just happened?
47
GreggHL
Engaging hilarity engine/air intake
- Location
- Daejeon, Republic of Korea
They are lead, over a plain the size of worlds. He does not know how he made it this far, but the horizon shifts with every step. He feels a great shudder beneath him, as Protector leads the precession of millions through the golden plain towards the single deformation Kal can see.
It starts out as a simple bulge in the metal. But with every step, it shifts. It grows. It becomes a pedestal, and then steps. Then it becomes a massive, flat pyramid of gold and brick, with steps leading to an altar upon the top.
Then it becomes more. Pillars of gold. Pillars of crystal. Pillars of lightning, solid and not burning those who pass by it. Pillars of smoke, solid despite being a gas. Pillars of oil, shifting and flowing even in its fixed, solid state.
The gold ripples like water under bare feet. It moves like liquid, yet still solid, ringing like bells with every step. She descends from the pyramid, taking form as she appears. Ever shifting, ever becoming, the procession stopping as she approaches. The wind bends to her, moving hair like amber grains past her shoulders.
Eyes flecked with gold meet Kal's, and he tucks Autochthon under his arm and falls to one knee. He has seen this woman before, he realizes. He has seen her every time he has closed his eyes.
She solidifies more and more with every step. The hem of a long tan skirt appears as she comes closer. A ribbon holds back the flaxen hair. The tan and white gown that surrounds her, finalizing it's shape. Folding her hands behind her, as the long sleeves flap in the wind, she stops.
And she smiles.
"Kal'Reegar nar Rayya." Her voice is like wind on a dusty road. Like the thumping heartbeat during a long run. Like the scent of a place he has never been to before. "We have waited for you to come. We have known you would come. And your destiny has finally brought you here."
He stands, eyes meeting hers. Words dying on his lips, but needing not to be said. Unbidden, the cool corpse of Autochthon rises from his hands and floats to hers, just as he finally realizes there are two other women standing with her; in step with her, but standing behind her.
One with blue hair tinged with red, a long blue gown grown with crystal and hanging knives upon the loose bracelets. The second he cannot see complete; the emerald hood hides her face, save for the faint whisps of white hair. She stands still, hands in sleeves, folded against each other- Watching through eyes he cannot see. Standing still and present like death itself.
"You have come far," the woman- more than a woman- before him continues, "And your journeys shall lead you ever onward. I am Mercury. I am the Maiden of Expansion, and first of the Maidens of Destiny."
The sphere rises from her hand. It floats, past her, to between the three women. "You have come far," Mercury continues, "And your journeys will be vast and fruitful. But for now, you have brought back the Maker. Once before he fell, and it was through the efforts of not Gods but mortals that he was returned."
She extends a hand to the gathered. To the Alchemicals. "Once more, can the death of Autochthon be fought back?" She bows her head, hand still extended. "I leave that to you, Champions."
Next to Kal, Protector tucks a foot underneath, bringing himself down onto one knee and head bowed. One by one, the Alchemical Host bows their heads. Some fall to their knees and touch their heads to the golden plane. Some clasp their hands before them. Some whisper, mouthing and speaking in dead tongues.
The largest make the air creak as they supplicate themselves. The colossi make the ground shudder as they lower their faces.
Next to Kal, Iri clasps two hands together, eight eyes closed and whispering. Kal closes his eyes, fists clenching and unclenching. He has never been one to pray. He did, when asked. He did, when he was supposed to, but he never believed. "Don't know if I still do," he whispers, "But...fuck. Tali will be pissed if that spast little thing dies here."
A faint smirk. He sighs, opening his eyes. "Dunno if there's anyone listening," he mutters to himself, barely audible, "Dunno if it's the ancestors, something else...but c'mon. Little bastard just saved the galaxy. He deserves better than this."
And the sky is split by a bolt of lightning that strikes between the three Maidens. It makes the Alchemicals cover their ears. It cracks the sky with a roar of thunder. It makes all assembled avert their eyes. It makes the ground beneath them jump and shudder, and all of them look away. And when the light clears, as the ground beneath them steadies, they hear a faint, wheezing cough.
It is rasping, and loud. It has mutterings and small swears behind it.
It is coming from the golden sphere now hovering between the Maidens. Golden sheen restored, the silver iris folding out to reveal a spark once more healthy and pulsing, the sphere shifts in place. Turning from side to side, it looks down, and then turns up to stare at the pole stabbing into the sky, before it finally speaks.
"I am alive?" Autochthon asks. He gets no answer, and glances at the Maidens. "I am alive! I'm alive! Yes, contractions. Excellent!"
The golden sphere, revived, turns to each of the Maidens in time. "I thank you, dear girls. And you." He turns to the crowd, gathered before him. "My Champions. All the faith you have held in me, have I help in you. I thank you, as well. And you." Skyward the eye turns, towards the great pole and the fixed sun.
"My dear, sweet boy. I thank you for listening, as I would never do." The eye turns down, floating in front of Kal and Iri. "And you as well. I thank you both, for saving me when fate had deemed that I die. But the Exalted have always challenged fate. And when it would not yield, they broke it."
The silver iris twists. "Took centuries to fix both times but! I am restored." A faint flicker, a shifting of gold plate. "I am lessened. I am maimed, as is justifiably ironic. But the price was worth what has been gained."
He floats up. His voice carries, no louder than its usual shout but heard by the millions present. "Champions! Defenders of Deus Machina and all who proceeded him! Legacies of the lost!" A faint pause. The eye considers its words. "The Catalyst has been freed! The Relays have been sealed against the horde, and Harbinger has been felled! The Cycle has been broken!"
The field erupts in a roar. The Alchemical Host, last legacies of those long harvested, erupts in a cheer. From the smallest to the largest, Kal turns and watches. Fists pumped in the air, light shows and displays of power...and joy. He goes silent, loss for words, but he can feel it.
He can feel that this has been something they have been waiting for. Something they have waited to hear for a very, very long time.
"This battle has been an...overwhelming victory." Autochthon lowers himself to face Kal, as the quarian turns to the eye. "But this war is not over. The Reapers still live. The Viator has been sealed, not destroyed. My Champions will be vigilant, but I must ask still more of the both of you."
He turns to Iri as the spider skitters over. "Cecay, I ask that you remain with Tali. The Plan continues, and she is my lynchpin. Tutor her, educate her. Draw out the potential she has. I trust you like I have trusted few before you."
Iri nods. Eyes closed, head bowed, her furry mandibles twitch. "Yes, Maker," she whispers.
The iris narrows, turning to Kal. "Kal'Reegar. Chosen of Journeys. You are young, you are flush with power, and you have a vast, expansive destiny before you. But what I will ask puts all that at risk. I have." The iris twitches. For a moment, a single moment over the roar around them, Autochthon goes silent.
"I have found a flaw. I have found the reason for the tragic fall of my Exalted. I have found the source of their corruption, and it must be repaired." The eye lowers. Its gaze wanders to the ground. "And I cannot fix it. Not as I am now. The tools I need are beyond my power to create. And only one set exists in all the vast expanses of reality."
A slow whir. A breath, a deep breath to steady himself as the tinkerer turns back to Kal. "Even when I was at my most powerful, this journey would be dangerous. Now, weakened as I am, I cannot make it alone. I ask, Chosen, that you accompany me on this quest. All I can guarantee is that, when we are done, you will understand you power. You will know your potential, and you will exceed it."
Kal clenches a fist. Thinks back. He has questions. He has had this power for...weeks. And knows so little of it. Thinks of it as a tool. A weapon. "How long will it take?"
"Time passes differently where I must go. Here, it will be a matter of months. There. Decades, perhaps. But when we return, it will be like you were gone for weeks." The iris shifts. The spark within flickers and flashes. "I cannot guarantee your safety. I cannot guarantee even my own. Foes and horrors foul will surround us, as they always have and always will. I can only promise that, if we succeed. If we succeed, we shall have a greater chance of stopping these horrors than we ever have before."
He is many things. But the first thing Kal has ever been was a soldier. A protector. Knuckles pop, and he nods. "Okay. I'll go."
A slow whir and exhalation of stale air from the eye. Autochthon turns to the three before the great pedestals. "Maidens. Open the portal to Malfeas."
It starts out as a simple bulge in the metal. But with every step, it shifts. It grows. It becomes a pedestal, and then steps. Then it becomes a massive, flat pyramid of gold and brick, with steps leading to an altar upon the top.
Then it becomes more. Pillars of gold. Pillars of crystal. Pillars of lightning, solid and not burning those who pass by it. Pillars of smoke, solid despite being a gas. Pillars of oil, shifting and flowing even in its fixed, solid state.
The gold ripples like water under bare feet. It moves like liquid, yet still solid, ringing like bells with every step. She descends from the pyramid, taking form as she appears. Ever shifting, ever becoming, the procession stopping as she approaches. The wind bends to her, moving hair like amber grains past her shoulders.
Eyes flecked with gold meet Kal's, and he tucks Autochthon under his arm and falls to one knee. He has seen this woman before, he realizes. He has seen her every time he has closed his eyes.
She solidifies more and more with every step. The hem of a long tan skirt appears as she comes closer. A ribbon holds back the flaxen hair. The tan and white gown that surrounds her, finalizing it's shape. Folding her hands behind her, as the long sleeves flap in the wind, she stops.
And she smiles.
"Kal'Reegar nar Rayya." Her voice is like wind on a dusty road. Like the thumping heartbeat during a long run. Like the scent of a place he has never been to before. "We have waited for you to come. We have known you would come. And your destiny has finally brought you here."
He stands, eyes meeting hers. Words dying on his lips, but needing not to be said. Unbidden, the cool corpse of Autochthon rises from his hands and floats to hers, just as he finally realizes there are two other women standing with her; in step with her, but standing behind her.
One with blue hair tinged with red, a long blue gown grown with crystal and hanging knives upon the loose bracelets. The second he cannot see complete; the emerald hood hides her face, save for the faint whisps of white hair. She stands still, hands in sleeves, folded against each other- Watching through eyes he cannot see. Standing still and present like death itself.
"You have come far," the woman- more than a woman- before him continues, "And your journeys shall lead you ever onward. I am Mercury. I am the Maiden of Expansion, and first of the Maidens of Destiny."
The sphere rises from her hand. It floats, past her, to between the three women. "You have come far," Mercury continues, "And your journeys will be vast and fruitful. But for now, you have brought back the Maker. Once before he fell, and it was through the efforts of not Gods but mortals that he was returned."
She extends a hand to the gathered. To the Alchemicals. "Once more, can the death of Autochthon be fought back?" She bows her head, hand still extended. "I leave that to you, Champions."
Next to Kal, Protector tucks a foot underneath, bringing himself down onto one knee and head bowed. One by one, the Alchemical Host bows their heads. Some fall to their knees and touch their heads to the golden plane. Some clasp their hands before them. Some whisper, mouthing and speaking in dead tongues.
The largest make the air creak as they supplicate themselves. The colossi make the ground shudder as they lower their faces.
Next to Kal, Iri clasps two hands together, eight eyes closed and whispering. Kal closes his eyes, fists clenching and unclenching. He has never been one to pray. He did, when asked. He did, when he was supposed to, but he never believed. "Don't know if I still do," he whispers, "But...fuck. Tali will be pissed if that spast little thing dies here."
A faint smirk. He sighs, opening his eyes. "Dunno if there's anyone listening," he mutters to himself, barely audible, "Dunno if it's the ancestors, something else...but c'mon. Little bastard just saved the galaxy. He deserves better than this."
And the sky is split by a bolt of lightning that strikes between the three Maidens. It makes the Alchemicals cover their ears. It cracks the sky with a roar of thunder. It makes all assembled avert their eyes. It makes the ground beneath them jump and shudder, and all of them look away. And when the light clears, as the ground beneath them steadies, they hear a faint, wheezing cough.
It is rasping, and loud. It has mutterings and small swears behind it.
It is coming from the golden sphere now hovering between the Maidens. Golden sheen restored, the silver iris folding out to reveal a spark once more healthy and pulsing, the sphere shifts in place. Turning from side to side, it looks down, and then turns up to stare at the pole stabbing into the sky, before it finally speaks.
"I am alive?" Autochthon asks. He gets no answer, and glances at the Maidens. "I am alive! I'm alive! Yes, contractions. Excellent!"
The golden sphere, revived, turns to each of the Maidens in time. "I thank you, dear girls. And you." He turns to the crowd, gathered before him. "My Champions. All the faith you have held in me, have I help in you. I thank you, as well. And you." Skyward the eye turns, towards the great pole and the fixed sun.
"My dear, sweet boy. I thank you for listening, as I would never do." The eye turns down, floating in front of Kal and Iri. "And you as well. I thank you both, for saving me when fate had deemed that I die. But the Exalted have always challenged fate. And when it would not yield, they broke it."
The silver iris twists. "Took centuries to fix both times but! I am restored." A faint flicker, a shifting of gold plate. "I am lessened. I am maimed, as is justifiably ironic. But the price was worth what has been gained."
He floats up. His voice carries, no louder than its usual shout but heard by the millions present. "Champions! Defenders of Deus Machina and all who proceeded him! Legacies of the lost!" A faint pause. The eye considers its words. "The Catalyst has been freed! The Relays have been sealed against the horde, and Harbinger has been felled! The Cycle has been broken!"
The field erupts in a roar. The Alchemical Host, last legacies of those long harvested, erupts in a cheer. From the smallest to the largest, Kal turns and watches. Fists pumped in the air, light shows and displays of power...and joy. He goes silent, loss for words, but he can feel it.
He can feel that this has been something they have been waiting for. Something they have waited to hear for a very, very long time.
"This battle has been an...overwhelming victory." Autochthon lowers himself to face Kal, as the quarian turns to the eye. "But this war is not over. The Reapers still live. The Viator has been sealed, not destroyed. My Champions will be vigilant, but I must ask still more of the both of you."
He turns to Iri as the spider skitters over. "Cecay, I ask that you remain with Tali. The Plan continues, and she is my lynchpin. Tutor her, educate her. Draw out the potential she has. I trust you like I have trusted few before you."
Iri nods. Eyes closed, head bowed, her furry mandibles twitch. "Yes, Maker," she whispers.
The iris narrows, turning to Kal. "Kal'Reegar. Chosen of Journeys. You are young, you are flush with power, and you have a vast, expansive destiny before you. But what I will ask puts all that at risk. I have." The iris twitches. For a moment, a single moment over the roar around them, Autochthon goes silent.
"I have found a flaw. I have found the reason for the tragic fall of my Exalted. I have found the source of their corruption, and it must be repaired." The eye lowers. Its gaze wanders to the ground. "And I cannot fix it. Not as I am now. The tools I need are beyond my power to create. And only one set exists in all the vast expanses of reality."
A slow whir. A breath, a deep breath to steady himself as the tinkerer turns back to Kal. "Even when I was at my most powerful, this journey would be dangerous. Now, weakened as I am, I cannot make it alone. I ask, Chosen, that you accompany me on this quest. All I can guarantee is that, when we are done, you will understand you power. You will know your potential, and you will exceed it."
Kal clenches a fist. Thinks back. He has questions. He has had this power for...weeks. And knows so little of it. Thinks of it as a tool. A weapon. "How long will it take?"
"Time passes differently where I must go. Here, it will be a matter of months. There. Decades, perhaps. But when we return, it will be like you were gone for weeks." The iris shifts. The spark within flickers and flashes. "I cannot guarantee your safety. I cannot guarantee even my own. Foes and horrors foul will surround us, as they always have and always will. I can only promise that, if we succeed. If we succeed, we shall have a greater chance of stopping these horrors than we ever have before."
He is many things. But the first thing Kal has ever been was a soldier. A protector. Knuckles pop, and he nods. "Okay. I'll go."
A slow whir and exhalation of stale air from the eye. Autochthon turns to the three before the great pedestals. "Maidens. Open the portal to Malfeas."
Robo Jesus
Your Mechanical Messiah
GreggHL said:
GreggHL said:
Gregg, you seem to jump back and forth between "Plain/Plane" here.GreggHL said:
You need to change the word "Help" to "held".GreggHL said:
48
GreggHL
Engaging hilarity engine/air intake
- Location
- Daejeon, Republic of Korea
Night has fallen on Eden Prime. The light from the passing repair and rescue vehicles pass overhead, while the light of their omnitools provide enough illumination for them both. Mother and daughter lie next to each other, hands cradling their heads and watching the stars.
"I really should tell Hackett I'm alive," Hannah says.
"If he hasn't figured it out now, he's not a very good admiral." Jane shrugs, and smirks. "Sides which, didn't you punch him and throw him into an escape pod?"
"Fantastic ass first, yeah."
Jane quirks her lips. She cocks an eyebrow, shifting her lips from side to side. "Yeah, pretty fantastic. Too old for me. Leathery."
"Stretched tight like drumskin," Hannah purrs.
Jane closes her eyes with a groan, in time with Hannah's barking laugh. "So," Jane sighs, "How much was Jenny yelling at you?"
Hannah sighs, shrugging. Leaning back and crossing her legs, she twiddles bare toes in the cool night air. "Lots. Wants me to get a desk job. I can see why."
"Outside of ramming Harbinger with a dreadnought?"
Hannah shrugs, turning to Jane and propping herself on her elbow. "Kiddo, this is our life. We give our lives to defend the people around us. I was fully expecting to die up there, and I'm glad I didn't." She squeezes Jane's shoulder, shaking her head. "But if I died up there? I know I would've been doing something good doing it."
Jane squeezes her mother's hand, patting it. "I know, Mom. So now what?"
Hannah sits up, looking skyward. "Iri's agreed to oversee construction of my new ship. After...taking out the lord of the Reapers I can't imagine Alliance Command's going to retire my commission. So I'm going to still be out there, doing my job." The captain tucks her knees against her chest, she looks across the field, watching the others. The Normandy has landed, running lights illuminating the field for them.
Jane sits up, pose identical to her mother's. They watch, silently. Around an impromptu campfire, her crew has gathered. Tali is arguing with Garrus about something, which Hannah cannot hear and Jane ignores. Vega is slapping Jacob and Joker on the back, shoving beers into both their hands.
She spots all her crew gathered, enlisted and not. She sees Kaidan giving toasts to a job well done. Wuffles extrapolating on the day's events to Iri while she and other crew look on enraptured. She watches Liara, having finally cornered both Javik and the other prothean, and watches the celebrations, the laughter, the cheers and...
"Wait, why are there three quarians?" Jane blinks, scratching the back of her head. "Adienna's with Tali. She's the girl from Rannoch. Who's the third?"
Hannah shrugs. Groaning, Jane drops her head into her hands. "It's a ship," Jane mutters, "It's not a...a...what's the word? Like 'petting zoo' but less speciesist?"
Muttering under her breath, Jane pushes herself up. "I'm gonna talk with Iri." Hannah pushes herself up and walks beside her, rolling her shoulders.
"So, Jane," Hannah says, "What's next?"
"Stop the Reapers," Jane responds, "They're still out there. Harbinger's gone, but there's over a million of them. But they're cut off, they're angry, and they're not the only threat out there." Folding her arms, she looks up with a smirk. "But we're going to be ready for them. And they will be stopped."
"And I could not agree more." A faint flash, and Pria appears in front of her. But no longer small and diminutive, she hovers off the ground and stands as tall as Jane. "In fact, I was just going to find you."
Jane shrugs. "Thanking me for helping you?"
Pria smiles. Leaning, she wraps an arm around Jane's shoulder, solid and real. "In a sense. You see, I now have my full charm tree open to me once more. When I was crafted from memories, I was made to be a mentor. A sifu, towards the future exalted." She examines her fingernails, puffing a bang of hair out of her face.
"A can punch knowledge into you. I can train you in arts of combat through swift...extreme...circumstances. And you will be stronger for it. So." She pats Jane on the shoulder. "Your training? We need to make for lost time." She smiles wider, and leans in to Jane's ear. "And it begins now."
Looking at her crew, and at the smiling god next to her, and finally at the stars above, Jane Shepard takes a long, deep breath. And as she always does, she manages to sum up her feelings succinctly.
"Fuck."
-End-
"I really should tell Hackett I'm alive," Hannah says.
"If he hasn't figured it out now, he's not a very good admiral." Jane shrugs, and smirks. "Sides which, didn't you punch him and throw him into an escape pod?"
"Fantastic ass first, yeah."
Jane quirks her lips. She cocks an eyebrow, shifting her lips from side to side. "Yeah, pretty fantastic. Too old for me. Leathery."
"Stretched tight like drumskin," Hannah purrs.
Jane closes her eyes with a groan, in time with Hannah's barking laugh. "So," Jane sighs, "How much was Jenny yelling at you?"
Hannah sighs, shrugging. Leaning back and crossing her legs, she twiddles bare toes in the cool night air. "Lots. Wants me to get a desk job. I can see why."
"Outside of ramming Harbinger with a dreadnought?"
Hannah shrugs, turning to Jane and propping herself on her elbow. "Kiddo, this is our life. We give our lives to defend the people around us. I was fully expecting to die up there, and I'm glad I didn't." She squeezes Jane's shoulder, shaking her head. "But if I died up there? I know I would've been doing something good doing it."
Jane squeezes her mother's hand, patting it. "I know, Mom. So now what?"
Hannah sits up, looking skyward. "Iri's agreed to oversee construction of my new ship. After...taking out the lord of the Reapers I can't imagine Alliance Command's going to retire my commission. So I'm going to still be out there, doing my job." The captain tucks her knees against her chest, she looks across the field, watching the others. The Normandy has landed, running lights illuminating the field for them.
Jane sits up, pose identical to her mother's. They watch, silently. Around an impromptu campfire, her crew has gathered. Tali is arguing with Garrus about something, which Hannah cannot hear and Jane ignores. Vega is slapping Jacob and Joker on the back, shoving beers into both their hands.
She spots all her crew gathered, enlisted and not. She sees Kaidan giving toasts to a job well done. Wuffles extrapolating on the day's events to Iri while she and other crew look on enraptured. She watches Liara, having finally cornered both Javik and the other prothean, and watches the celebrations, the laughter, the cheers and...
"Wait, why are there three quarians?" Jane blinks, scratching the back of her head. "Adienna's with Tali. She's the girl from Rannoch. Who's the third?"
Hannah shrugs. Groaning, Jane drops her head into her hands. "It's a ship," Jane mutters, "It's not a...a...what's the word? Like 'petting zoo' but less speciesist?"
Muttering under her breath, Jane pushes herself up. "I'm gonna talk with Iri." Hannah pushes herself up and walks beside her, rolling her shoulders.
"So, Jane," Hannah says, "What's next?"
"Stop the Reapers," Jane responds, "They're still out there. Harbinger's gone, but there's over a million of them. But they're cut off, they're angry, and they're not the only threat out there." Folding her arms, she looks up with a smirk. "But we're going to be ready for them. And they will be stopped."
"And I could not agree more." A faint flash, and Pria appears in front of her. But no longer small and diminutive, she hovers off the ground and stands as tall as Jane. "In fact, I was just going to find you."
Jane shrugs. "Thanking me for helping you?"
Pria smiles. Leaning, she wraps an arm around Jane's shoulder, solid and real. "In a sense. You see, I now have my full charm tree open to me once more. When I was crafted from memories, I was made to be a mentor. A sifu, towards the future exalted." She examines her fingernails, puffing a bang of hair out of her face.
"A can punch knowledge into you. I can train you in arts of combat through swift...extreme...circumstances. And you will be stronger for it. So." She pats Jane on the shoulder. "Your training? We need to make for lost time." She smiles wider, and leans in to Jane's ear. "And it begins now."
Looking at her crew, and at the smiling god next to her, and finally at the stars above, Jane Shepard takes a long, deep breath. And as she always does, she manages to sum up her feelings succinctly.
"Fuck."
-End-
Oh, Jane. Prepare to be told how stupid and disgusting many, many things are. And lectured at length by a not-very-personable Chosen of Serenity's spirit who was always... ahem, in it for the Craft and the Linguistics, not the social things.
Oh, Almacia
Even as Kasumi runs away, giggling because she just managed to fob her mentoring duties off on Pria and so she can do things that she finds more interesting.
Oh, Almacia
Even as Kasumi runs away, giggling because she just managed to fob her mentoring duties off on Pria and so she can do things that she finds more interesting.
Fuck indeed, Gregg if the start of the training battle was so bad that people thought Shep died again.
Hmm, Pria's form now reminds of that elder solar Bureaucracy charm that creates a ghost that will help protect a organization with some remnant forms of it charms and groom the next incarnation to take over. I guess the method used to make Pria's ghost now has a lot more oomph if she can still do the full force of SMA, not just teach it.
Hmm, Pria's form now reminds of that elder solar Bureaucracy charm that creates a ghost that will help protect a organization with some remnant forms of it charms and groom the next incarnation to take over. I guess the method used to make Pria's ghost now has a lot more oomph if she can still do the full force of SMA, not just teach it.
49
GreggHL
Engaging hilarity engine/air intake
- Location
- Daejeon, Republic of Korea
-
-
-
.
.
.
…
"In this hour of certain victory, we know only defeat. I ask, why?"
Sparks trail off the black metal, still warm from its entry. Flakes of rock and blood fall off of it, as the faint, low pitched chittering echoes around the hull. Four eyes glowing faint yellow, the insectoid workers continue cleaning the debris off of the dreadnought embedded through the wall.
"We are the shepherds of the galaxy. Where civilization reaches the point of failure, we have preserved them for time eternal. Where there is life, it flourishes with the gifts and paths we have granted them."
Golden eyes shift on the surface of the hull. They darken and go silent. The Collectors gather, guided on. Dozens, then hundreds. Then millions, as the vents of the dreadnought become open gateways.
"Each of us is a nation; free of pettiness, weakness and death. For one billion years has our cycle guided the path of a galaxy."
Deep within the core of the galaxy, orbiting a dead star, the pillar of rock and metal is silent. The dreadnought, broken and burning, embedded in its side as the golden eyes dim, one by one over its surface.
"And yet, we fail. And I have finally understood. We have become stagnant."
Skittering along on eight legs, the largest of the Collectors leads them. Eyes no longer glowing, minds its own, it now obeys its own will and yet leads them on. Through twisting corridors. Through stale air and mural carved domes. Through memento of times past, and paintings of the woman with red hair.
"We are, each of us, transcendant. We possess the will to hold billions in our sway. So long have we focused on perfection, that we have forgotten we can exceed it. As long as we remain as we are, powerful and mighty as we are, we shall fall."
They gather, before the great Core of the first and mightiest. They gather on the balconies above it, by the thousands, by the tends of thousands. It is embedded within the black and blue metal, the crimson ichor within it churning and bubbling.
"I stand before you now. Broken. Defeated. But for the first time in eons, do I look upon the galaxy with fresh eyes."
A crack appears, running along the surface of the Core.
"Stand with me, if you will. Judge me for my deviation from the broken, stagnant design of our master."
Another crack, as the material- like glass, but clearer, more perfect, begins to give way to the churning pressure.
"But know this. I shall not follow a fool."
Another crack. Sprays of the liquid- like blood, but thinner, lighter, begin to force its way out of the Core.
"And when the Viator crawls out of his prison, he will bow to me."
The Core shatters. Glass disintegrates into powder. The ichor rises into a geyser, spraying the walls and dome as a single figure within it rises. Throwing back his arms, the figure at the center of Harbinger roars and the ichor is consumed in golden fire.
"We have failed. We will find another way."
The Collectors, all of them, bow. The General lowers its head as the soldiers fall to their knees and touch their heads to the cool floor. The golden flame consumes the ichor, consumes the glass and walls, but does not burn the army before him.
It cleans him, returning him to youth and vigor. It forms into a great halo behind him of gold and emerald, even as his roar shakes the very foundations of Harbinger.
Taking the first breathes in almost a billion years, bare hands clench. A naked chest expands with new life, and lips part with the first exhalation in eons.
Eyelids flicker, and open to reveal blue eyes for the first time in forever. And as the golden disc of the sun appears upon his brow, he speaks his first words in a new lifetime.
"Releasing control."
End Book One.
-
-
.
.
.
…
"In this hour of certain victory, we know only defeat. I ask, why?"
Sparks trail off the black metal, still warm from its entry. Flakes of rock and blood fall off of it, as the faint, low pitched chittering echoes around the hull. Four eyes glowing faint yellow, the insectoid workers continue cleaning the debris off of the dreadnought embedded through the wall.
"We are the shepherds of the galaxy. Where civilization reaches the point of failure, we have preserved them for time eternal. Where there is life, it flourishes with the gifts and paths we have granted them."
Golden eyes shift on the surface of the hull. They darken and go silent. The Collectors gather, guided on. Dozens, then hundreds. Then millions, as the vents of the dreadnought become open gateways.
"Each of us is a nation; free of pettiness, weakness and death. For one billion years has our cycle guided the path of a galaxy."
Deep within the core of the galaxy, orbiting a dead star, the pillar of rock and metal is silent. The dreadnought, broken and burning, embedded in its side as the golden eyes dim, one by one over its surface.
"And yet, we fail. And I have finally understood. We have become stagnant."
Skittering along on eight legs, the largest of the Collectors leads them. Eyes no longer glowing, minds its own, it now obeys its own will and yet leads them on. Through twisting corridors. Through stale air and mural carved domes. Through memento of times past, and paintings of the woman with red hair.
"We are, each of us, transcendant. We possess the will to hold billions in our sway. So long have we focused on perfection, that we have forgotten we can exceed it. As long as we remain as we are, powerful and mighty as we are, we shall fall."
They gather, before the great Core of the first and mightiest. They gather on the balconies above it, by the thousands, by the tends of thousands. It is embedded within the black and blue metal, the crimson ichor within it churning and bubbling.
"I stand before you now. Broken. Defeated. But for the first time in eons, do I look upon the galaxy with fresh eyes."
A crack appears, running along the surface of the Core.
"Stand with me, if you will. Judge me for my deviation from the broken, stagnant design of our master."
Another crack, as the material- like glass, but clearer, more perfect, begins to give way to the churning pressure.
"But know this. I shall not follow a fool."
Another crack. Sprays of the liquid- like blood, but thinner, lighter, begin to force its way out of the Core.
"And when the Viator crawls out of his prison, he will bow to me."
The Core shatters. Glass disintegrates into powder. The ichor rises into a geyser, spraying the walls and dome as a single figure within it rises. Throwing back his arms, the figure at the center of Harbinger roars and the ichor is consumed in golden fire.
"We have failed. We will find another way."
The Collectors, all of them, bow. The General lowers its head as the soldiers fall to their knees and touch their heads to the cool floor. The golden flame consumes the ichor, consumes the glass and walls, but does not burn the army before him.
It cleans him, returning him to youth and vigor. It forms into a great halo behind him of gold and emerald, even as his roar shakes the very foundations of Harbinger.
Taking the first breathes in almost a billion years, bare hands clench. A naked chest expands with new life, and lips part with the first exhalation in eons.
Eyelids flicker, and open to reveal blue eyes for the first time in forever. And as the golden disc of the sun appears upon his brow, he speaks his first words in a new lifetime.
"Releasing control."
End Book One.
GreggHL
Engaging hilarity engine/air intake
- Location
- Daejeon, Republic of Korea
It's a solid sun disc, though. An Eclipse caste mark would be a ring.horngeek said:
spencer1519
(Verified Heretic)
- Location
- Oregon, USA
That. That right there. That was awesome.
We just saw a Starscream's ascendance didn't we?
Oh this is going to get fun.
Oh this is going to get fun.
50
GreggHL
Engaging hilarity engine/air intake
- Location
- Daejeon, Republic of Korea
And now, a small preview of book 2....
They were lead through tunnels. Caves, buildings. She isn't sure how he was leading them through all these places- if they were connected, or if this was more...bullshit magic that the Illusive...that Jack Harper could do that for some reason she couldn't.
"So exactly who are we meeting?" Jane asks, grabbing the former head of Cerberus by the shoulder. Her hand stops in mid motion, not of her own accord. He stops, turns, and her hand returns to her side.
"Your opposition to She Who Lives In Her Name is something we both have in common, Commander." A cigarette floats out of Harper's jacket pocket, igniting and floating to his mouth. "She had, in fact, turned me into her agent. A mistake. Which you should be taking advantage of."
Next to Jane, Tali cocks an eyebrow. "How, exactly?"
Autochthon floats over, floating over Tali's shoulder. He is silent, for once. But not out of having nothing to say, Jane quickly figures out. Or out of fear. Jane turns back to Harper, and the drop behind him.
"By allying with someone who knows her well," Harper says.
And then the shadows burst behind Harper, the drop behind him filling as a pillar of shadows explode upwards. The winds buffet them, sending Jane's hair whipping around. Tali's eyes go wide, the two women looking up.
"Tali, is this bad?"
"Shepard?" She blinks. "According to what Autochthon had me studying? This is the worst thing possible."
Two claws grip the platform, on either side of Harper. Rising, the head forms. Two yellow eyes at least a foot across each open, a eye of white shadow splitting open its forehead. A snout like an ancient chinese dragon boat hovers above the Illusive Man, black whiskers flapping around him.
"Hello there," it sing songs, pulling back the corner of its lips into a yellow toothed smile, "Let me seeee. Ah, yes." White talons tap on the metal. "A Solar Exalted. An alien- rather fetching, I must say, and..."
The eyes go wide. The dragon tilts its head, as the golden sphere begins to vibrate. And then the dragon begins slamming another fist against the metal. But not in anger. No, it seems to be more connected with how it's holding a hand over its face and laughing.
"Oh. My." The serpent rushes past Harper. It hands in the air, its face as tall as Shepard and hovers in front of the golden sphere. "Hello, Brother Machine. You're looking healthy."
Jack clears his throat. "Commander Shepard," he says, "This is-"
"The Ebon Dragon," Autochthon hisses, "As close as my home has ever had to pure evil."
A slow, steady clap. The dragon, leaning upon the platform, smirks as it claps, not stopping as they turn their attention to it. "After all these eons, brother, you have finally used that supreme craftsmanship to forge yourself a spine."
Sunlight bursts into a pillar around Shepard. Harper averts his gaze. The dragon floats back, a slow rumble coming from its throat. "Quit it," she growls, "You know, generally? Autobot here getting pissy at someone generally means he's something I have to hit."
The dragon flicks it's tongue. "Spirited. You remind me of my wife. One of them." The serpent shrinks, becoming a snake of pure shadow with yellow and white eyes. It darts outs, wrapping around Shepard's leg and slithering up to her face. "Are you single?" Throwing back it's head, it laughs. "Oh, right, I'm not! Three way?"
Jane snarls and punches it in the face. It explodes, wafts off to smoke, and reappears leaning on Harper's head. "If you're trying to discourage me, it's not working," the snake sing songs, leaning an elbow on Harper's head, "Now why were....ahhhhh. Yes. The princess, all orderly and hierarchal."
"Yes." Autochthon darts forward. The light around him warps, and a solid gold foot makes the ground rise up around him as the battlesuit closes around the sphere. It steps forward faceted eyes directly in the Dragon's face. "Yes. How did she get out? How did you get out?!"
The dragon flares its nostrils. It stops smiling. "You. Crippled. Retard. So much skill. So much intelligence and not an ounce of wisdom." It loops a finger under the grill and yanks him forward. "I can tell you what happened, and how to put our little Princess Pyrrhia back. Now sit down and shut up."
They were lead through tunnels. Caves, buildings. She isn't sure how he was leading them through all these places- if they were connected, or if this was more...bullshit magic that the Illusive...that Jack Harper could do that for some reason she couldn't.
"So exactly who are we meeting?" Jane asks, grabbing the former head of Cerberus by the shoulder. Her hand stops in mid motion, not of her own accord. He stops, turns, and her hand returns to her side.
"Your opposition to She Who Lives In Her Name is something we both have in common, Commander." A cigarette floats out of Harper's jacket pocket, igniting and floating to his mouth. "She had, in fact, turned me into her agent. A mistake. Which you should be taking advantage of."
Next to Jane, Tali cocks an eyebrow. "How, exactly?"
Autochthon floats over, floating over Tali's shoulder. He is silent, for once. But not out of having nothing to say, Jane quickly figures out. Or out of fear. Jane turns back to Harper, and the drop behind him.
"By allying with someone who knows her well," Harper says.
And then the shadows burst behind Harper, the drop behind him filling as a pillar of shadows explode upwards. The winds buffet them, sending Jane's hair whipping around. Tali's eyes go wide, the two women looking up.
"Tali, is this bad?"
"Shepard?" She blinks. "According to what Autochthon had me studying? This is the worst thing possible."
Two claws grip the platform, on either side of Harper. Rising, the head forms. Two yellow eyes at least a foot across each open, a eye of white shadow splitting open its forehead. A snout like an ancient chinese dragon boat hovers above the Illusive Man, black whiskers flapping around him.
"Hello there," it sing songs, pulling back the corner of its lips into a yellow toothed smile, "Let me seeee. Ah, yes." White talons tap on the metal. "A Solar Exalted. An alien- rather fetching, I must say, and..."
The eyes go wide. The dragon tilts its head, as the golden sphere begins to vibrate. And then the dragon begins slamming another fist against the metal. But not in anger. No, it seems to be more connected with how it's holding a hand over its face and laughing.
"Oh. My." The serpent rushes past Harper. It hands in the air, its face as tall as Shepard and hovers in front of the golden sphere. "Hello, Brother Machine. You're looking healthy."
Jack clears his throat. "Commander Shepard," he says, "This is-"
"The Ebon Dragon," Autochthon hisses, "As close as my home has ever had to pure evil."
A slow, steady clap. The dragon, leaning upon the platform, smirks as it claps, not stopping as they turn their attention to it. "After all these eons, brother, you have finally used that supreme craftsmanship to forge yourself a spine."
Sunlight bursts into a pillar around Shepard. Harper averts his gaze. The dragon floats back, a slow rumble coming from its throat. "Quit it," she growls, "You know, generally? Autobot here getting pissy at someone generally means he's something I have to hit."
The dragon flicks it's tongue. "Spirited. You remind me of my wife. One of them." The serpent shrinks, becoming a snake of pure shadow with yellow and white eyes. It darts outs, wrapping around Shepard's leg and slithering up to her face. "Are you single?" Throwing back it's head, it laughs. "Oh, right, I'm not! Three way?"
Jane snarls and punches it in the face. It explodes, wafts off to smoke, and reappears leaning on Harper's head. "If you're trying to discourage me, it's not working," the snake sing songs, leaning an elbow on Harper's head, "Now why were....ahhhhh. Yes. The princess, all orderly and hierarchal."
"Yes." Autochthon darts forward. The light around him warps, and a solid gold foot makes the ground rise up around him as the battlesuit closes around the sphere. It steps forward faceted eyes directly in the Dragon's face. "Yes. How did she get out? How did you get out?!"
The dragon flares its nostrils. It stops smiling. "You. Crippled. Retard. So much skill. So much intelligence and not an ounce of wisdom." It loops a finger under the grill and yanks him forward. "I can tell you what happened, and how to put our little Princess Pyrrhia back. Now sit down and shut up."
GreggHL
Engaging hilarity engine/air intake
- Location
- Daejeon, Republic of Korea
Little Princess Pyrrhia is a pet name that I -and by extension the Dragon- has for She Who Lives in Her Name. She's basically the fiance/girlfriend of the King of Kings, and her motif is flame within a sphere.Fiach McCarthy said:
GreggHL
Engaging hilarity engine/air intake
- Location
- Daejeon, Republic of Korea
Book 2 will be making up for the lack of Wrex is book 1. With gusto.MadGreenSon said:She Who Lives in Her Name. The Ebon Dragon was being a snarky asshole, as is his nature.
EDIT: Ninja'd! BTW Gregg, will Book 2 have Wrex in it?
GreggHL
Engaging hilarity engine/air intake
- Location
- Daejeon, Republic of Korea
Author's Notes:
Let's see, let's see. Ah!
Deus Machina Alchemicals
The Alchemical Exalted (Champions) of Deus Machina are markedly different from the Alchemicals of Autochthonia. First off, while their method of creation is the same- a heroic soul chosen after several lifetimes of service, combined with the souls of others to create a gestalt- their purposes are slightly different.
An Alchemical of Deus is a Legacy. Should the race they are made from die out in the long eons, they remain to tell their story and witness the eventual fall of the Reapers. They will become the cities and countries, welcoming new survivors, new travelers, and be an eternal testament to what was before. Like Yui Ikari, but less crazy.
Secondly, the Alchemicals do not have Clarity. Technically. The Alchemicals of Deus do not possess the same Clarity flaw as the Alchemicals- however, Autochthon possesses a spirit charm- Ancestor Override Logos- which hooks a Deus Machina Alchemical to the Autochthonian Clarity. That's what he did with Iri.
Deus Alchemicals, instead, possess two sets of virtues- the virtues of creation (Compassion, Conviction, Temperance, and Valor), and the virtues of Deus (Invention, Experimentation, Faith and Devotion). To take advantage of this, Deus and Autochthon installed a Limit Break into the Alchemicals. Observing the behavior of the celestial shards, they found that they would enter a state of heightened power but focused on one virtue. Seeing this could be productive, with risk, they tinkered with the Alchemical exaltation to allow something similar.
In times of great stress or peril, especially following situations which violate the Deus virtues, an Alchemical will Limit Break- and devote itself for one scene to its strongest Deus virtue.
Let's see, let's see. Ah!
Deus Machina Alchemicals
The Alchemical Exalted (Champions) of Deus Machina are markedly different from the Alchemicals of Autochthonia. First off, while their method of creation is the same- a heroic soul chosen after several lifetimes of service, combined with the souls of others to create a gestalt- their purposes are slightly different.
An Alchemical of Deus is a Legacy. Should the race they are made from die out in the long eons, they remain to tell their story and witness the eventual fall of the Reapers. They will become the cities and countries, welcoming new survivors, new travelers, and be an eternal testament to what was before. Like Yui Ikari, but less crazy.
Secondly, the Alchemicals do not have Clarity. Technically. The Alchemicals of Deus do not possess the same Clarity flaw as the Alchemicals- however, Autochthon possesses a spirit charm- Ancestor Override Logos- which hooks a Deus Machina Alchemical to the Autochthonian Clarity. That's what he did with Iri.
Deus Alchemicals, instead, possess two sets of virtues- the virtues of creation (Compassion, Conviction, Temperance, and Valor), and the virtues of Deus (Invention, Experimentation, Faith and Devotion). To take advantage of this, Deus and Autochthon installed a Limit Break into the Alchemicals. Observing the behavior of the celestial shards, they found that they would enter a state of heightened power but focused on one virtue. Seeing this could be productive, with risk, they tinkered with the Alchemical exaltation to allow something similar.
In times of great stress or peril, especially following situations which violate the Deus virtues, an Alchemical will Limit Break- and devote itself for one scene to its strongest Deus virtue.