Glorious Shotgun Princess, Thread 3

[Happerry]

"Mister Autocthon, Batarian State News. Is it true that you can make invisible teleporting dreadnaughts, and if it is true how much would we have to pay you to get some?"

 

[Aleph]

"... um... hello, Mr Autochthon. You are one of Commander Shepard's more mysterious advisors; and appear knowledgeable about technology, if your assertion there is anything to go by. Likewise, you don't resemble any Councel-known race we know of, and there are rumours you know something of the alleged Reaper threat. So, uh, what is your opinion of the technology base the Council has at its disposal, and is it sufficient to combat the Reapers if such a conflict becomes inescapable?

 

[Dirtnap]

Quarians use bathrooms?

Click to shrink...

They do when they've had Geth stregthening their immune system for the past year or so.

 

[Robo Jesus]

"Yes, Autochthon was it? I'm sure many of our viewers would be delighted to know at the moment, how exactly did you appear out of thin air like that? Oh, and who and what exactly are you? We have next to nothing regarding yourself, and I'm sure our viewers would be interested in knowing more about what in the hell is going on at the moment."

 

[The Bushranger]

"Sir, do you know of duplication technology capable of reproducing a fully adult person instantaneously, and has any such technology been used on Commander Shepard or any of her relatives?"

 

[Durabys]

"Mr. Autochthon? Octavian Parsus from the Legioni Magazine, Turian Hierarchy, again. We got a very short and uninformative answer from Commander Shepard on this question so I will repeat it. Our edior-in-chief got today morning, just after Commander Shepard announced a press release, a text only e-mail from someone calling him- or herself 'The Dragon'. This person says he, or she, is a great fan of Commander Shepard and you. The letter contains lewd references, is somehow contradictory on itself, even though our best linguists are tearing their scales out to pinpoint which are the logically false statements, but there is also the interesting part saying that Commander Shepards predecessors and specifically you, and I quote, 'are responsible for mutiliating half of my people, and unmaking the other half' and you also being said to be part of this 'people' group at one time and also the one who created and dispersed these 'Exaltion' 'bullshit magic' artifacts that made it all possible. Please, can you confirm or deny and elaborate on this, Mr. Autochthon?"

*the Ebon Dragon sent that email*

 

[Giygas]

"Mr Autocthon! Rumors say that the reapers were created by your cancer! Assuming the rumors are true, can you give us some pointers to kill living cybernetic Cancermonsters? It is obviously an absolutely hypothetical question: there isn't any laboratory that was conquered by a mutant cybernetic culture of HeLa Cells. Absolutely none. And they never belonged to any Human Terrorist Organization. Especially not Cerberus."

 

[Mortifer]

"Mr Autobot, what is your opinion on the human movie and/or cartoon 'Transformers.'?"

 

[GreggHL]

God dammit Autocthon.

"Steven Selias, Terra News Now. Mr. Autocthon, do you consider yourself to be the foremost designer of things made up of, and I quote, 'Bullshit Magic'?"

Click to shrink...

"Indeed! I was once the Principle of Bullshit! My Bullshit was transcendent!"

"Mister Autocthon, Batarian State News. Is it true that you can make invisible teleporting dreadnaughts, and if it is true how much would we have to pay you to get some?"

Click to shrink...

"That is actually my student. I specialize in larger scale things."

You were quoted as describing thousand-forged dragons as "not worth the term weapon of mass destruction". Our viewers want to know, what do you consider worth that term?

Click to shrink...

Expanding his hands out, Autochthon forms a hologram in front of everyone. "Pah!" he harrumphs, "Dragons. Barely worthy as picket ships. Mass destruction? This is mass destruction in my day! See the geomantic lines! Designed for a war! Things that I have seen, have armed against would make the grandest war in your imaginings seem like trifle border disputes! This! This however!"

The grid, covering something easily the size of Asia, expands outwards. "But without the Solars, well, and reduced as I am! We would have to make it bigger! Greater! Behold grandness on a greater scale- use the weapons of the enemy against them! More than just a mere weapon, this will be greater than the concept of weapon!"

It expands outwards, further and further. Lines running along the Mass Relays themselves. Out and out, further and further, forming into a grid-mapped scale of the Galaxy itself. And then zooming back into a construct, floating in the palm of his hand.

"Now this? This is a weapon of mass destruction. This is The Crucible of Adamant. Next question?"

"... um... hello, Mr Autochthon. You are one of Commander Shepard's more mysterious advisors; and appear knowledgeable about technology, if your assertion there is anything to go by. Likewise, you don't resemble any Councel-known race we know of, and there are rumours you know something of the alleged Reaper threat. So, uh, what is your opinion of the technology base the Council has at its disposal, and is it sufficient to combat the Reapers if such a conflict becomes inescapable?

Click to shrink...

"I am not as much a 'race' as a 'remnant,'" Autochthon states, closing his hand and vanishing the designs and the images, "You may label me as Artificial Intelligence, but I am a construct with a different sort of soul. I am a brain upload of a soul-architecture higher level being whom you would, even in this enlightened age, fall to your knees and worship as God. Not a god. The God.

"And as for the Reapers? I know them well. What you have at your disposal is but the beginning of what you need. It will never be sufficient to fight them. That is what you need Shepard for."

"Autochthon, Montana Jones of the Galactic Archeological Journal. Your name, from the standpoint of humanity's ancient Greek mythos, suggests that you 'arose from the earth'...essentially, you are one who spawned into existence from 'somewhere', which is likely given your apparent powers and otherworldly appearance. So what is the planet or realm that you are an autochthon of?"

Click to shrink...

"The Realm is the stuff from which universes form. I am an autochthon of the Wyld, and later an autochthon of Autochthon Himself."

"Yes, Autochthon was it? I'm sure many of our viewers would be delighted to know at the moment, how exactly did you appear out of thin air like that? Oh, and who and what exactly are you? We have next to nothing regarding yourself, and I'm sure our viewers would be interested in knowing more about what in the hell is going on at the moment."

Click to shrink...

"I am a memory backup of a being who's world body is described as a Dyson Shell, who exists in a renewed state currently on the outer dimensional edge of the Milky Way Galaxy. That is…ah…more or less the truth. I hope that cleared things up. Next question?"

"Mr. Cthon, who was that woman and who is that adorable little girl on your shoulder?"

Click to shrink...

The woman peaks back in. "I am Noedumari," she says, curtsying, "I'm his assistant, and the God of Ball Bearings." The ball-bearing earrings swing and tingle.

The girl on Autochthon's shoulder waves. "And I'm Kamilla!"

Mr. Autocthon why do some of our sources in the SA mutter "goddamnit Autocthon" before attempting to explain parts of the battle of Eden Prime?

Click to shrink...

Autochthon's facet eyes twist slightly. The head splits open down the middle, and the eye rises into the air, hovering past Kamilla and floating to the podium. "Well, that's probably taught to them by Shepard. More or less, more or less. Yes, yes! You, please!"

"Autocthon" This reporter seemed kind of zoned out, utterly pathetic and monotone in his query. "What do you say to allegations that you are nothing but a pathetic crippled retard who couldn't make a universe without it exploding into fragments of pure failure?"

Click to shrink...

The silver eye narrows. Gold plates shift down. "Oh, I don't know? What would a certain other being say about allegations she's nothing but an overcompensating obsessive compulsive hypocrite with a thing for Daddy? Next question?"

Mr. Cthon do you have reason for the the similarity of your arrival here to the arrival of terrorists who held a local food court hostage until Commander Shepard could arrive on the scene?

Click to shrink...

The eye snaps open. "Oh! So thaaaaat's where they went? I see. Hm. Wonder where the one who looked like Shepard went."

"Sir, do you know of duplication technology capable of reproducing a fully adult person instantaneously, and has any such technology been used on Commander Shepard or any of her relatives?"

Click to shrink...

The iris narrows. "Ah hm. Huh. Hah. No."

Mr. Cthon! Is it true that you are involved with the recent disappearances of dead bodies from the local morgues?

Click to shrink...

The eye turns and centers on Kamilla. She giggles, swinging back and forth on the giant's shoulder before hopping off, hanging in the air, and lowering to the ground. "What do you do with those bodies?"

"I'll never tee~ell," she sing-songs.

"Mr. Autochthon? Octavian Parsus from the Legioni Magazine, Turian Hierarchy, again. We got a very short and uninformative answer from Commander Shepard on this question so I will repeat it. Our edior-in-chief got today morning, just after Commander Shepard announced a press release, a text only e-mail from someone calling him- or herself 'The Dragon'. This person says he, or she, is a great fan of Commander Shepard and you. The letter contains lewd references, is somehow contradictory on itself, even though our best linguists are tearing their scales out to pinpoint which are the logically false statements, but there is also the interesting part saying that Commander Shepards predecessors and specifically you, and I quote, 'are responsible for mutiliating half of my people, and unmaking the other half' and you also being said to be part of this 'people' group at one time and also the one who created and dispersed these 'Exaltion' 'bullshit magic' artifacts that made it all possible. Please, can you confirm or deny and elaborate on this, Mr. Autochthon?"

Click to shrink...

"Yeah," Kamilla says, "Mama hates him, too."

"I thought your mother doesn't hate anyone."

"'cept for him."

"Mr Autocthon! Rumors say that the reapers were created by your cancer! Assuming the rumors are true, can you give us some pointers to kill living cybernetic Cancermonsters? It is obviously an absolutely hypothetical question: there isn't any laboratory that was conquered by a mutant cybernetic culture of HeLa Cells. Absolutely none. And they never belonged to any Human Terrorist Organization. Especially not Cerberus."

Click to shrink...

Autochthon sighs. "Mother fucker!" Shepard's voice booms over the omnitool on the giant's arm, "Fine! Got it! Joker, get us there, now!"

"And I thought I had a lacking grasp of consequences," Autochthon sighs.

"Mr Autobot, what is your opinion on the human movie and/or cartoon 'Transformers.'?"

Click to shrink...

"Oh, those." The iris shutters. "Quaint."

"GREAT MAKER, Eternally Inquisitive Reporter. Can you comment at all on your trip back to Creation might mean for Deus Machina?"


The other reporters look somewhat oddly at the silver-skinned woman with a wide grin on her face.

Click to shrink...

The iris narrows. "Oh! When'd you get here? Does Logos know you left, by the way? As for the consequences, well. I'm not quite sure what they'd be, but I don't think that there's going to be anything terribly bad about what I may have done in Creation!"

The omnitools of all the human reporters quickly chime in the results of a special election on Elysium, as the new territorial governor of Nemi Redborn has just won in a landslide election, promising to "Stamp out the specters of ignorance and rise from the dust like an ascending dragon!"

 

[Robo Jesus]

Well, this is delightful. And at least the Ebon Dragon isn't answering questions here.

 

[Dirtnap]

Oh. Nemi Redborn. That's not an assumed name at all.

Click to shrink...

Noooooo not at allllllll /dripping sarcasm.

Interesting times are a foot.

 

[HioH]

Did Mnemon just conquer a colony?

 

[Robo Jesus]

Be quiet you'll give him ideas.

Click to shrink...

Heh, I never worry about people stealing ideas. I'll worry once they try stealing other things. Like my heart. As I really kind of need that little organ to live.

 

[Scia]

Did Mnemon just conquer a colony?

Click to shrink...

It was not conquered! That would imply that there was any resistance. People simply understood the natural order of things.

 

[Durabys]

It was not conquered! That would imply that there was any resistance. People simply understood the natural order of things.

Click to shrink...

I am now curious as to how would Creation look if She Who Lives In Her Name never existed to begin with.

...

I got it! It would look like the Buffy universe. A universe where mere mortals can become Universe-creating/ending titans/gods if they just apply enough bullshit artifacts and strong willpower. Not chaotic, no, but no hierarchy too.

 

[Durabys]

..snippet..

"Yeah," Kamilla says, "Mama hates him, too."

"I thought your mother doesn't hate anyone."

"'cept for him."


..snippet..

Click to shrink...

"Mr. Autochthon. Legioni Magazine again. Before we will have to investigate these new shocking developments on Elysium a final question. Is it a correct assumption that this 'Dragon' character is related to you, the young lady Kamilla next to you and her mother and that this being is as powerful, or more, as you, Kamilla or her mother?"

 

[GreggHL]

"Mr. Autochthon. Legioni Magazine again. Before we will have to investigate these new shocking developments on Elysium a final question. Is it a correct assumption that this 'Dragon' character is related to you, the young lady Kamilla next to you and her mother and that this being is as powerful, or more, as you, Kamilla or her mother?"

Click to shrink...

Autochthon's iris blinks. "How do they even know about these things? I think the Design being frayed may have broken the fourth wall a bit." The iris spirals open. "Calling us related would be simplistic at best. Think of it more like a social group. With a lot of [REDACTED]." The eye turns down to Kamilla. "Would they even know about your mother? I don't think so. Anyway! Two more questions!"

"Miss Tali Jack Daniels from Omega News Network is it true that you have to repeatedly slap Autochton whenever he gets a bad idea?"

Click to shrink...

The omnitool on the giant's arm chimes. "Yes." Autochthon sighs, and a white crack opens in the floor to swallow the giant.

"Anyway! Kamilla, you said we had a lunch date today. Let's turn this over to…Cecay! Cecay, please come out!"

A flash of blue electricity- like a biotic charge- forms into an eighteen legged, rainbow hue'd spider with fuzzy cat ears. "Maker! Welcome back!"

"Happy to visit, Cecay," Autochthon says, turning to the skittering over Iri, "I was going to show my niece around. Could you field questions?" He turns back to the reporters. "Oh! Oh yes! Final question!"

"Autocthon, is it true that a cosmically large wind is even now scouring clean entire planets due to your actions and arrival here?"

Click to shrink...

"Yay!" Kamilla cheers, "She made it!"

The iris shutters open. Then shut. He turns to Kamilla, then to the side of the stage. A young woman with long fingers, black hair in a pageboy cut, and a wide smile of jade teeth waves at them. Kamilla waves back. Autochthon, on the other hand, screams as loud as he can, not noticing the ear-muffs that are now on the two women even as Kamilla drags him out, skipping the entire way.

Iri skitters up to the podium. "Why Hello thar! I'm Entrepreneurial Iridescent Cecay! I'm here to answer any questions, so let me start with introductions! I'm a crafter, my favorite things are making things, music, and hugs!" She giggles, swaying from side to side. "I'm also single. First question?"

 

[Happerry]

"Mister Autocthon, do you have any response to the rumors that the Citadel is being redesigned to turn into a giant anti reaper robot piloted by the council?" The Reporter pauses. "Ah, to late. Well, Cecey, would you know who the student who can make Invisible Flying Dreadnaughts is?"

 

[The Bushranger]

"Miss Cecay, how do you cope with Miss Tali'Zora coming after you repeatedly with a Thresher Maw-sized can of Black Flag?"

 

[Scia]

Miss Cecay how are you standing on the issues of humanoid positive discrimination that is running rampart in the galaxy with the Elcor and Hannar as the token non humanoid ones among the powerful?

 

[Cornuthaum]

"Kero Selin, Home Defense Hardware! speaking. Miss Cecay, if one may enquire, what exactly are you an enterpreneur of? Furthermore, as rumors link you with multivariant field modifications during the Battle of Eden Prime, are you available for consulting work?"

 

[Durabys]

Autochthon's iris blinks. "How do they even know about these things? I think the Design being frayed may have broken the fourth wall a bit." The iris spirals open. "Calling us related would be simplistic at best. Think of it more like a social group. With a lot of [REDACTED]." The eye turns down to Kamilla. "Would they even know about your mother? I don't think so. Anyway! Two more questions!

Click to shrink...

OOC: Eh. GreggHL? Everything I wrote in that interview could be assumed from what you, Tali and Shepard said in these interview before.

 

[GreggHL]

"Mister Autocthon, do you have any response to the rumors that the Citadel is being redesigned to turn into a giant anti reaper robot piloted by the council?" The Reporter pauses. "Ah, to late. Well, Cecey, would you know who the student who can make Invisible Flying Dreadnaughts is?"

Click to shrink...

"Weeeeeee~ell it wasn't invisible, it was stealthy. I mean, I had my optic camouflage on it, so it didn't have it's own stealth system. Just mine!" She clicks her mandibles. "Yes! You, the one covered in sweat!"

"Miss Cecay, you..." He blinks, glancing from his notes to the stage. He stands still in complete shock for a moment, and when he finally continues, he's shaking. "Spider. Spider. Spider. WHY ARE YOU A SPIDER? WHOSE IDEA WAS THIS? WHY?"

Click to shrink...

"Weeee~eeell a long time ago, a female [untranslatable] and fifteen male [untranslatable] had a very special hug, where the males put their [wgrh] in her [hjahs] and that's how one of my component souls were born! Which lead many many lives of rampant heroism, being hard spiders making hard decisions! And then those souls were merged, and I was born!"

"Miss Cecay, how do you cope with Miss Tali'Zora coming after you repeatedly with a Thresher Maw-sized can of Black Flag?"

Click to shrink...

"Well, with more hugs! From all my bodies!"

"Miss Cecay, Mr. Cthon had cancer until recently, correct? How would a being- a "god"-have such a disease? How was it cured? Would there be ways we could apply his treatment methods to ordinary medical practices?"

Click to shrink...

"Unfortunately, that's impossible, as that would involve fetich death and normal people don't have fetiches. Next question?"

Miss Cecay how are you standing on the issues of humanoid positive discrimination that is running rampart in the galaxy with the Elcor and Hannar as the token non humanoid ones among the powerful?

Click to shrink...

"Weee~ell I'm not sure that's truueee. Because it's really a matter of biology, but I'm sure if we attached jet packs to the elcor and gave the Hanar giant robot bodies, it would even out!"

"Kero Selin, Home Defense Hardware! speaking. Miss Cecay, if one may enquire, what exactly are you an enterpreneur of? Furthermore, as rumors link you with multivariant field modifications during the Battle of Eden Prime, are you available for consulting work?"

Click to shrink...

"Sooo~rry, but I'm currently contracted to Captain Hannah Shepard to help with her new ship! As for being an entrepreneur, I'm a self-starter businesswoman in the field of building! Because I'm my own company!"

Her colossus form decloaks behind her, a twelve legged, 8 meter tall spider, which opens its mandibles and disgorges all the spiders. "I'm a corporation!"

Miss cecay, what would you say is your favourite type of things to make?
And what equipment do you use to craft things with?

For comparison purposes

Click to shrink...

"Well, I like making all sorts of things! Guns, ships, tropical islands, phase variance pocket dimensions with a thirty nano type Elsewhere motemic pocket. As for equipment!" All the spiders then turn their arms into all the things. "We make our own!"

There is a burst of lightning, and Jane Shepard appears on the stage. "Great!" she says, grabbing Iri by the arm, "The fire on the Mako's out, and we don't have time before the scorpions get past the spiders you sent with us! Let's go!" She turns to the other side of the stage. "Pria! Take over!"

Shepard, the spiders, and the colossus vanish in another burst of blue lightning.

Sighing, walking across the stage with supernal grace, the ribbons off her shoulders hovering level with her head and her hips sliding with a simple sway, she sweeps back dark violet hair and levels blue eyes at the reporters. "Very well. My name is Pria. Questions?"

 

[GreggHL]

Gregg. PLEASE tell me that this is canon!!!!!

Click to shrink...

No, this is very strictly an omake for various reasons.

"Yes, Aliece Naradin, Thessia Chronicles. What the hell just happened?"

Click to shrink...

"It's a very long story, much of which would sound made up at best." She sighs, pushing past hair behind the swept back ears. "But basically, there is a fray in the Design and things are getting through. Bad things. I'm sure Shepard can handle it." She balls her fist and coughs.

Reaching into her white skirts, she pulls out a clay pot. It fills, instantly, with shimmering liquid, which she scoops up into a ball and words with her hands until it becomes a thermos filled with steaming coffee.

"Next question?"

 

[GreggHL]

It hovers between her hands, suspended by called forth winds, inundated with elemental flame. Tendrils of black, of red, of emerald and brass wrapped and coiled into a seamless, perfect band. It undulates and shifts, becoming bigger, smaller in simple and unremarkable ways. Shifting its shape to perfectly fit the finger that it hovers near.

It whispers to her, writhing in fire and air. Of promises she does not trust. Of truths she knows are lies. It calls to her, begs her. To put it on. To seal their pact. How she wishes to simply find the secrets she has spent ages looking for.

Throbbing, pulsating ink coils and constricts the metal. A voice so familiar, so hated and yet so pitied begs and pleads. Calls a name so long abandoned, whispers in her ear. Don't you want to finish what you started?

The sphere of wind and flame disappears and the ring falls, landing on its edge. She snaps out a hand, covering it in fire and rock, a talon of solid magma scooping up the wedding band and depositing it into the satchel at her side.

Standing, she cocks her head to the side and double checks. Voices, she thinks. Very familiar voices, and a very familiar language. A faint smirk crosses her face, and she walks down the abandoned area of the Zakera Ward.

Wrapped feet pad along with metal walkways. Green eyes peer down darkness, the vibrations of the massive corridors around her telling her where she is, who is around her. Allowing her to track them, even as they keep themselves invisible to everyone. To everything.

But blood calls to blood, she thinks with a smile. Blood is thicker than any of that.

The catwalks lead over a recessed, windowless room. Five of them have gathered- their armors recovered, their weapons recovered. She knows them- knows their names, knows their bloodlines, knows their heritage and power.

Knows the buttons to push to get them to kneel to her.

Five Dragonblooded rise- young, full of vitriol and dogma, weapons ready and magic already surging within them.

Then she pulls the wrappings and hood off of her head, and lets them stare. Four weapons jam into the floor, the butt of a spear pressing against metal, and the five Dragonblooded fall to a knee before her.

"Hello, my children," she says, green eyes sparkling, red hair falling in waves down her back, "Shall we begin?"




In the past two weeks, the Sun has risen three times, the stars have come out twice, and the Moon has come out five times. All in all, Luna must be playing a good game. Not that he would know what the game is, as when he was created, he had all memory of the Games removed.

Even the memories Autochthon, the Titan Autochthon had of the Games were not transferred to him. Which meant, as well, he didn't know how they were made, so he couldn't recreate them on Deus. Which meant he didn't know the first thing about them, which troubles him even more. A war was fought over them.

It had been done for some reason or another, though at the time- as now- it eludes him. There were no Games in the strange Universe he cast the Design over. No raw material or perfect state in which to craft Great Amusement.

No Raksha, either.

Small favors.

Still, that is another matter. Musing shuffled off to let the Geth in his body play with, Autochthon turns his bearded disguise-body to the woman standing in front of his desk. Blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun, clad in a simple white blouse, long black skirt and long jacket, she is attractive. Potential to be attractive, if she dressed a bit less severe.

"Right, who are you?" he asks.

"I am Win Keilm, God of Wardrobe Malfunctions."

Autochthon stares at her. Well, not exactly her, but the clasps on her blouse. Waiting, watching. At least, until a folder falls into her hands, open and with an unfurled scroll. "Excellent," she says, "Right on cue."


There I a creak, a moan of wood and metal bending. Autochthon and Noedumari glance past Win and watch the wardrobe built into the wall. A screw falls to the ground and one door pops open, hanging lazily. The goddess in front of them places her folder on the desk, stamps the scroll, and dismisses the folder with a lazy wave.