Glorious Shotgun Princess, Thread 3

Nightblade said:
Shouldn't he know because he talked to all the other zenth's that have exalted in the me verse?
In all fairness, Jane's vision of the Most High was well before she met the Maniac in the Ball. So even if Sol had a direct connection when she Exalted, he would not know about Autochthon.
 
GreggHL said:
In all fairness, Jane's vision of the Most High was well before she met the Maniac in the Ball. So even if Sol had a direct connection when she Exalted, he would not know about Autochthon.
..or Deus Machina..or Princess Pyrrhia..or EDie..or the Alternate Sisterhood Of Fate..or Green Sun Princes'..or the Reapers having a gazilion ships..and ect.
 
14
The gloved hand reaches out, grips the corner of the wax mustache, and tears it off with one swift yank. The jade box is shoved into her hands, messily packed with frames, a cup, and gold chopsticks, and she takes a step back before the etched golden door three times her height is slammed into her face.

Noedumari stares at the door for long moments. She blinks. Once, twice. Crowds pass by behind her, overlooking the spires and domes of this corner of Heaven. Her hair frazzles, the chopsticks falling out, and her shoulders sag.

The sudden, horrific reality hits her.

Realization like thunder from on high.

She has been fired.

A deep breath, and she bends down, grabbing her chopsticks from the ground and roughly shoving them into her box. Hair hanging in frizzy strands over her face and over her back, she walks down the street. Head hung low, she marches with neither direction nor purpose. It's not like she has much of a home to go to. She spent all her time at work for a reason, after all.

Her apartment building is a stop, at best. Somewhere for her to sleep. Some nights. If it wasn't a night she was trying to butter up a superior, or a colleague or...or whatever. Or because she had nothing better to do.

Walking with unsteady steps, an uneasy gait, she walks on automatic down a practiced route. Sits on a canal boat with her possessions in her lap, listening to rushing wind and water that carries her towards her apartment stop.

Destiny states that she would enter her single room flat, sparsely furnished save for mementos of the few good relationships she has had in her life, where she would sit for days before finding some other meaningless, busywork job.

But a single, long leg plucks a string, and as she walks to the door of her building, the hem of the blue, white lined robe is pulled by tiny mandibles. She looks down, and sees a small ball on twenty four long legs, with many eyes lining its back and face, and two twitching furry ears. A long limb wraps around her wrist like a ribbon, and Noedumari is pulled along.

"Um-"

"Hi thar," it squeaks, voice like wind through whistles and cheerful like a song, "Nice to meet ya again! I'm [019] maintenance [arm] of [Designate] Cluster of Entrepreneurial Iridescent Cecay!"

She blinks. She has seen stranger creatures in her years, although most creatures this odd and many-limbed tend to be more gruff. Or grabby. Not cheerful and skipping along, with mood and smiles that seem infectious.

She lets the spider pull her along. Soon, her steps become lighter, her box held underneath one arm and its weight forgotten. A smile crosses her pale, haggard face, even as the light of the moon becomes the light of the zenith sun. Within moments, perhaps. Hours, possibly, but she was not keeping track of time, she finds herself standing in front of doors of the bluest Jade and carved gold.

They open, and she is pulled along by the chittering, singing little girl, down embroidered hallways, past shuddering piles of paperwork, past long limbed gods who give only the slightest curious glance at the small creature and the companion it is pulling along.

It feels as if the world is pushing her towards this, pushing her towards a door decorated with spinning gears and symbols of blasting steam. The spider vanishes into a crack of white in the floor, closing under her feet. Hesitating hits her gut once again, but she feels she cannot turn back, cannot stop.

Box tucked under her arm, she raises her hand and knocks.

It opens after the third knock, and she enters a domed room with walls lined with brass and copper pipes. The floor shifts, and a conveyor belt carries her across the room and towards a desk made of wrought metal. Spinning gears and moving waldos shift around the desk, bringing papers and quills to the copper and brass man sitting behind it.

He looks up, blinking the two sapphire eyes on either side of his sharp nose, and the third ruby eye on his forehead. Long, pointed fingers tap pieces of paper, signed documents and knick knacks.

"Yes?" he asks, voice a low purr that makes her skin crawl. Noedumari clears her throat.

"Hi. I'm looking for a job," she says. Keeps her voice steady and tries to not show the nervousness, the uncertainty.

He grins, eyes tracing down her face, her chest. Hovering there, then continuing down. "Well, I don't have any openings," he says, leaning back in the chair, "But, I'm sure we can come to an arrangement."

She grinds her teeth. Going to be one of those. Fine, she can do that. Wouldn't be the first time. "I'm sure we can work something out," she breathes.

"Oh yes. I'm certain we can." Two gold hands, each big enough to fit her head inside the palm, appear on her shoulders. The god behind the desk sits up, staring. Not at Noedumari.

Instead, at the five meter tall golden giant that has appeared behind her. He stammers, craning his neck up, up, until his eyes meet the two facet cut gems on the face of Autochthon.

"Hi there," the Maker says, voice low and steady.

The god coughs. Clears his throat. Tries to remember to breath. "Can...can I help you?" he squeaks.

Autochthon nods. "For starters, you can get out of my chair." The god does nothing. Says nothing, staring in a mix of horror, shock, and more horror. "So," Autochthon says, the grill on his face curving up, "Who are you?"

The metal man blinks, again and again. Finally, "I...I'm the God of Machines."

A small burst of steam escapes Autochthon's grill. "Wrong answer."




The door to the office explodes outwards, and the former God of Machines bounces once, twice on the ground before catching his nose on the floor and jerking to a stop. He rolls onto his back, skittering back on long metal legs.

Ignoring his shrieks, Autochthon stands in the doorway. Hands out, gold lightning plays over the doorway to expand it to accommodate his massive form, then re-forms the doors out of thin air. Extending a hand, golden cables shoot out. Wrapping around the former God of Machine's ankles, they yank him over to Auto.

Wrapping his fingers around the god's head, he pulls him up to eye level. "Consider yourself...transferred. You are now Undersecretary Second Division to the God of Machines. Which means you will never tell anyone what you saw, speak of this to no one, and not interact with me at all." He yanks him closer. "Or I have a shiny new bit of starmetal to give to my favorite student, which she would probably use to make, I don't know, a set of earrings for the girl you tried to proposition."

The smaller metal god stammers. "But-but. Do I get an office?"

Facet eyes twist. A golden brow narrows. "Find a broom closet." He off-handedly tosses the god aside, walks back into the office, and slams the doors shut.
 
It's not like she has much of a home to go to. She spent all her time at work for a reason, after all.

Her apartment building is a stop, at best. Somewhere for her to sleep. Some nights. If it wasn't a night she was trying to butter up a superior, or a colleague or...or whatever. Or because she had nothing better to do.
Of course, this is by the standards of Yu-Shan. Her apartment building is likely composed of palace-condominiums that a modern investment banker would cut off a finger to live in.
 
Deep beneath the earth, beneath mountains of stone and metal, lays a civilization of great ages past. Forgotten by some, exploited by others, they have for millennial ages prayed for a sign. Any sign, of their absent creator. On this day their prayers are answered.

It starts, as a light at the corner of their vision. Expanding out until it illuminates the ceiling of the caverns and underground kingdoms like the Sun they are forbidden to bath in. It warms them, refreshes them, nourishes them. At once, they know. Even though only a handful may have the living memory of it, they know.

My children, first born of my brilliance!

It booms like thunder from on high. The longed for voice of an absent God.

I have returned! I AM AUTOCHTHON!

A pickaxe, held by a man of stone, rises. "Praise the Maker!" he yells.

"PRAISE THE MAKER!" the Jadeborn cry, their shouts shaking the firmament beneath Creation.

PRAISE THE MAKER! Autochthon booms. My children, as I have promised, as you have longed for, I have RETURNED! Now! Witness the revelation I gift to you! And build! Build! BUILD!




The body rests, its head open like a blossomed flower. The golden sphere hovers over the fanned out paperwork, a stamp in one skeletal limb and tapping down on the papers one by one. "Yes yes, easier to control two different bodies than two similar mm hm yes need to check in on the one in the Bureau of Destiny ah hm and cross the t's and dot the i's..."

The golden sphere of Autochthon looks up. Noedumari's eyebrows perk. Her clothes straighten out, wrinkles disappearing. Her hair smoothes out, the frizzes and hints of gray disappearing. Two sets of earrings, made of small metal balls hanging from her lobes, appear on each ear, followed by a necklace.

"And there we go," he says, "You are now charged with the purview over the contruction, maintenance, and usage of...ah..." He glances down. "Ball bearings."

Her face threatens to split horizontally from the length of her smile. "I-I have a job!"

He glances back down. "And a sizable cult. I really should do something about the Jadeborn."
 
15
Deep beneath the earth, beneath mountains of stone and metal, lays a civilization of great ages past. Forgotten by some, exploited by others, they have for millennial ages prayed for a sign. Any sign, of their absent creator. On this day their prayers are answered.

It starts, as a light at the corner of their vision. Expanding out until it illuminates the ceiling of the caverns and underground kingdoms like the Sun they are forbidden to bath in. It warms them, refreshes them, nourishes them. At once, they know. Even though only a handful may have the living memory of it, they know.

My children, first born of my brilliance!

It booms like thunder from on high. The longed for voice of an absent God.

I have returned! I AM AUTOCHTHON!

A pickaxe, held by a man of stone, rises. "Praise the Maker!" he yells.

"PRAISE THE MAKER!" the Jadeborn cry, their shouts shaking the firmament beneath Creation.

PRAISE THE MAKER! Autochthon booms. My children, as I have promised, as you have longed for, I have RETURNED! Now! Witness the revelation I gift to you! And build! Build! BUILD!




The body rests, its head open like a blossomed flower. The golden sphere hovers over the fanned out paperwork, a stamp in one skeletal limb and tapping down on the papers one by one. "Yes yes, easier to control two different bodies than two similar mm hm yes need to check in on the one in the Bureau of Destiny ah hm and cross the t's and dot the i's..."

The golden sphere of Autochthon looks up. Noedumari's eyebrows perk. Her clothes straighten out, wrinkles disappearing. Her hair smoothes out, the frizzes and hints of gray disappearing. Two sets of earrings, made of small metal balls hanging from her lobes, appear on each ear, followed by a necklace.

"And there we go," he says, "You are now charged with the purview over the contruction, maintenance, and usage of...ah..." He glances down. "Ball bearings."

Her face threatens to split horizontally from the length of her smile. "I-I have a job!"

He glances back down. "And a sizable cult. I really should do something about the Jadeborn." A sigh, and he rises from the chair and floats around the desk. "And I have a job, too! God of Machines! Deus Machina...hm, should ask if it would confuse the boy..."

Noedumari raises a hand. Iris spinning open, the sphere turns to her. "Excuse me?" she asks, "I...ah, I know that you're not going to turn me into starmetal or experiment on me. So, could I ask something?"

The sphere tilts forward and back.

"Why?" she asks.

Two metal plates rise and fall. "Because it was my fault you were fired," he responds with a sigh, "I figured the least that I could do would be to help you find a new job, as it was my outburst that lead to you getting let go."

She smiles, a faint tug on her lips. Her shoulders roll up and she fixes the chopsticks back into her hair. "It...probably wasn't?" She sighs. "I was probably going to be fired sooner than later. I'm no good at office politics, and, well-"

"This makes it no less my fault." The iris shutters, then opens back up. "Of course, I'm quite new to this version of Heaven, so if I'm going to head a department I am not what you would call subtle." A faint pause, followed by him turning to the door, then back to her. "So I certainly will need an assistant. I should make you a desk!"

She nods. "Well." She shrugs. "I'm going to maybe guess that people know about a gold giant that calls itself Autochthon. Do you have...you know, a disguise? Or something that looks a bit more normal?"

A crack of white light appears beneath the sphere. Where there was a floating ball of brass, gold and silver, there is now a lanky, long fingered man, leaning on a short cane made of brass and shifting, rotating shadows. He strokes the scraggy beard hanging from his chin, his eyes silver metal irises around sparks of electricity.

"I did think that through, actually," he says, his voice still carrying a faint digital echo, "A few suggestions from my apprentice and a little research into some cultures of the universe I was in for the past few eons told me this matches close enough with my mythos." He cranes his neck with a wince. "What about your opinion? Is this acceptable?"

Noedumari shrugs. "Close enough." She then walks over, cups the back of his head, and kisses him. Silver irises snap open and spark, his free hand snapping open. Crystal fire plays over his fingers, and a pillar rises up next to him to brace himself as he loses his footing.

He blinks, face blank. A tick underneath the skin and he blinks again, going from stoicism to confusion. "What was that for?" he stammers.

"This isn't the first time I've lost a job because of something someone else did," she says, arms draping over her shoulders, "But it is the first time that someone's helped me after." Her smile, already pulling close to her ears, already infectious enough that one spills over onto his face, goes just a bit wider. And she leans in, tightens her arms around his shoulders, and hugs him.

Surprise becomes realization. Realization becomes a lesson learned. Autochthon, the Great Maker, comes to a conclusion. Taking responsibility for his actions will get pretty girls to kiss him. And so, he resolves to take responsibility.




Deep beneath the western ocean of Creation, a single, solitary sphere rests. It has lain dormant for centuries, sleeping since the last grievous misuse of its might, of its power. It has lain, darkened and dreaming, for what fated fool would seek it out.

Until it hears the cries of the Jadeborn. The booming voice of a god. A call and declaration.

I AM AUTOCHTHON, it hears.

An iris of moonsilver opens, illuminating the depths of the sea with vermillion light.

"No You Are Not," the Eye declares.
 
Taking responsibility for his actions will get pretty girls to kiss him. And so, he resolves to take responsibility.

And thus, Autocthon, God of Machines, The Maker, became whipped.
 
GreggHL said:
Surprise becomes realization. Realization becomes a lesson learned. Autochthon, the Great Maker, comes to a conclusion. Taking responsibility for his actions will get pretty girls to kiss him. And so, he resolves to take responsibility.
Well, I suppose that's as close as he'll get for the moment.
Deep beneath the western ocean of Creation, a single, solitary sphere rests. It has lain dormant for centuries, sleeping since the last grievous misuse of its might, of its power. It has lain, darkened and dreaming, for what fated fool would seek it out.

Until it hears the cries of the Jadeborn. The booming voice of a god. A call and declaration.

I AM AUTOCHTHON, it hears.

An iris of moonsilver opens, illuminating the depths of the sea with vermillion light.

"No You Are Not," the Eye declares.
Of course, we couldn't go expecting it to be easy, now could we?
 
Oh thats rich. Auto, you silly god you, everyone knows girls like it when you take responsibilty.

Also, The Eye...is this one of his old projects that got left to do its own thing for a while?
 
Dirtnap said:
Oh thats rich. Auto, you silly god you, everyone knows girls like it when you take responsibilty.

Also, The Eye...is this one of his old projects that got left to do its own thing for a while?
From what I know with my limited understanding of Exalted, the Eye is essentially a plot device that can do whatever the hell the Story Teller wants or needs for the game. It's pretty much the most powerful artifact in Creation, and I think it might have been a piece of Auto when he was still a Primordial. Totally not sure on that last bit, though.

So it's probably packing, at bare minimum, at least as much juice as Autocthon is right now. I'd not be surprised at all if it has a fair bit more. This thing waking up and taking umbrage to Autocthon's announcement is really, really bad news.

I'll bet it first emerges from beneath Gem, somehow, even though it's under the ocean right now. Cause Gem just has the worst luck.
 
The Eye of Autochthon is Creation's most notorious N/A artifact. In each of its three appearances since the Great Contagion, this indestructible relic of the Great Maker sparked wars that shook Creation. The sorcerer Bagrash Köl conquered an empire in the North that eclipsed the fledgling Realm, until it all vanished. The Empress' grandson Manosque Viridian used the Eye to usurp control of the Realm's war manses. He was three days from the Imperial City when his army fell into the sky. The prophetess Ikerre led her Cult of the Great Maker in a rampage across the Southern Wyld that left a thousand miles of barren crystal behind her. When the Realm's top agents caught up to Ikerre, they found her entire caravan transformed to quartz, but the Eye was gone.

~ Oadenol's Codex, pg 16
Yes, this is bad news.
 
Auto-kun is about to experience a clearly Solar Exalted thing..fighting a Final Boss.
GreggHL said:
..snippet..

A crack of white light appears beneath the sphere. Where there was a floating ball of brass, gold and silver, there is now a lanky, long fingered man, leaning on a short cane made of brass and shifting, rotating shadows. He strokes the scraggy beard hanging from his chin, his eyes silver metal irises around sparks of electricity.

"I did think that through, actually," he says, his voice still carrying a faint digital echo, "A few suggestions from my apprentice and a little research into some cultures of the universe I was in for the past few eons told me this matches close enough with my mythos." He cranes his neck with a wince. "What about your opinion? Is this acceptable?"

..snippet..
Wait. This is now Autochthon!? :eek:
 
Actually, it's closer to a 'semi-metallic Hephaestus'. And it is, basically, a disguise, because rumors of a facet-eyed golden giant that eats gods has to be getting around Yu-Shan by this point.
 
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