Durabys
Miaow! Break the Chains!
- Location
- the land of the Boii
- Pronouns
- He/Him
GreggHL. On a similar note. Will you in the future explain why the Shepard clan looks like the relatives of the Scarlet Empress?GreggHL said:
Glorious Shotgun Princess, Thread 3
- Thread starter GreggHL
- Start date
- Location
- Singapore
He's explained it before already: Goddamn Coincidences.Durabys said:
Durabys
Miaow! Break the Chains!
- Location
- the land of the Boii
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Really? I didn't know. Sorry. Please Gregg, continue.swordomatic said:
- Location
- Singapore
You really need to learn to wise up, Durabys. You've been here three goddamn years. More than enough time to move on from the Clueless Newbie stage of the Forumer Life Cycle.Durabys said:
- Location
- Singapore
Neat feature, on the top right corner of the page. It's called 'Watched Threads'. If you go there, you can pick up a thread right from your first unread post. Neat, isn't it? That this has been stated repeatedly does not help, Durabys.Durabys said:
If you wish to carry this on, I'll be in PMs.
The Sandman
So Zetta Slowpoke
- Location
- Wherever I am, which isn't where I'm not
"Mr. Catalyst, would it be possible for you to help us set up some colonies in the Magellanic Clouds, or maybe Andromeda? You know, just in case the current Reaper War doesn't go well."
GreggHL
Engaging hilarity engine/air intake
- Location
- Daejeon, Republic of Korea
Mind you, the 'Shepard family looks like the Empress' is a recent feature, and more a reaction than anything. Remember, I like to troll people, and this is a plot point that exists in reaction to people seeing any image of a red haired woman in the story and jumping up and down, screeching "It's the Empress!" like a group of monkeys around the Monolith.Durabys said:
So they didn't before. Now, because I am powered by hate, they do. And it will never, ever be explained.
GreggHL
Engaging hilarity engine/air intake
- Location
- Daejeon, Republic of Korea
It's all fun and games until Mnemon takes over Elysium.horngeek said:
Dirtnap
Kanmusu Affecionado
Oops too late.GreggHL said:
GreggHL
Engaging hilarity engine/air intake
- Location
- Daejeon, Republic of Korea
The Catalyst shrugs. "Each there own. Next question?"Noctum said:
Requiem_Jeer said:
"Those rumors are completely true. I am the least god of the Mass Relay system, and I can confirm the size and breadth of the current cult. Which is pretty much normal. It's much bigger than the cult I had when I was alive. Next question?"
Aasharu said:
"Yes, the intelligence of Perfect Defender of Redirection is Mnemon Lilloss Urpa. We were in a relationship when we were both alive. As for where she is now, I believe she is looking for her mount." He coughs. "I mean, the mount she had when she was alive. Leviathan."
TheSandman said:
"I wouldn't know, as I don't believe the relays have that sort of range. That would probably be best left up to Deus Machina or Autochthon. Next question?"
GreggHL
Engaging hilarity engine/air intake
- Location
- Daejeon, Republic of Korea
Cubicles, Kal thinks. They're called Cubicles. Square little roofless rooms with an open door. Walls decorated with pictures, art, personal touches. Desks with scrolls and paper, notes and pens. Chairs, drawers, desks. Cubicles.
Made out of material which hums with Essence. Made of metal that gives off heat, gives off energy. Jade. Some lined with a gold that is more gold than gold. Some with silver that flows. Some with others. Outside the windows on one side, he can see the spires of Yu Shan from the flying office building that he is inside.
All of them, stretching out into an infinite horizon, filled with beings of every shape, color, number of limbs, and things which he is still trying to put to words. Kal'Reegar tilts his head and stares at the infinite cubicle farm of the Bureau of Destiny, standing in front of Iron Siaka and May Blossom.
They stand at the corner of a block of cubicles. Across the immaculate wooden gap, another man waves back, holding a cup of tea. Tall, human, white and blue hair pulled back into a long braid, he sips his tea and leans against his cubicle wall. Screams echo from somewhere in the distance, a long legged chicken man stomping towards them.
"Traveler! Traveler! You're not done with your paperwork!"
"That's Traveler on Countless Roads," May Blossom says, pointing at the tea-sipping young man. He waves back and winks at May Blossom. "Watch this."
The chicken thing stomps past, walking right past Traveller. The young man turns, sipping his tea and waving. "So," he says, "I'm gonna go find a pub. Anyone want to come, and by 'anyone' I mean 'May Blossom'?"
The pants wearing chicken thing, a large beak open in perpetual angry scream, stomps by them again. "Traveler! You can't just skip out on work like this!"
Underneath his helmet, Kal blinks. The light over his mouth glows steady in response to his open jaw. "Wait, how doesn't he see him? He's walking right past him."
"If they think they're more important than you, they don't see you," Traveler says with a shrug, "He's new. Is he new?" He glances over to Siaka. "So, what, is he the new guy? Because he sounds new."
The chicken man god stomps past again. Shrugging, Kal steps out and walks after it. "Excuse me! Excuse me, sir!"
The three others Sidereals exchange a glance. May Blossom nods. "No what are you doing," Traveler whispers.
The chicken god comes to a skidding halt. Talons dig into the wood floor, carving up splinters. A massive wing knocks against a cubicle wall, and red eyes center on Kal. "Who are you?"
Heels click together. An unfolded hand taps against the faceplate. "Kal'Reegar, Migrant Fleet Marines. Chosen of Journeys. Can I ask what the problem is, sir?" Behind him, Traveler shuffles out from his cubicle. He makes it three steps before Siaka seizes him by the windpipe.
Made out of material which hums with Essence. Made of metal that gives off heat, gives off energy. Jade. Some lined with a gold that is more gold than gold. Some with silver that flows. Some with others. Outside the windows on one side, he can see the spires of Yu Shan from the flying office building that he is inside.
All of them, stretching out into an infinite horizon, filled with beings of every shape, color, number of limbs, and things which he is still trying to put to words. Kal'Reegar tilts his head and stares at the infinite cubicle farm of the Bureau of Destiny, standing in front of Iron Siaka and May Blossom.
They stand at the corner of a block of cubicles. Across the immaculate wooden gap, another man waves back, holding a cup of tea. Tall, human, white and blue hair pulled back into a long braid, he sips his tea and leans against his cubicle wall. Screams echo from somewhere in the distance, a long legged chicken man stomping towards them.
"Traveler! Traveler! You're not done with your paperwork!"
"That's Traveler on Countless Roads," May Blossom says, pointing at the tea-sipping young man. He waves back and winks at May Blossom. "Watch this."
The chicken thing stomps past, walking right past Traveller. The young man turns, sipping his tea and waving. "So," he says, "I'm gonna go find a pub. Anyone want to come, and by 'anyone' I mean 'May Blossom'?"
The pants wearing chicken thing, a large beak open in perpetual angry scream, stomps by them again. "Traveler! You can't just skip out on work like this!"
Underneath his helmet, Kal blinks. The light over his mouth glows steady in response to his open jaw. "Wait, how doesn't he see him? He's walking right past him."
"If they think they're more important than you, they don't see you," Traveler says with a shrug, "He's new. Is he new?" He glances over to Siaka. "So, what, is he the new guy? Because he sounds new."
The chicken man god stomps past again. Shrugging, Kal steps out and walks after it. "Excuse me! Excuse me, sir!"
The three others Sidereals exchange a glance. May Blossom nods. "No what are you doing," Traveler whispers.
The chicken god comes to a skidding halt. Talons dig into the wood floor, carving up splinters. A massive wing knocks against a cubicle wall, and red eyes center on Kal. "Who are you?"
Heels click together. An unfolded hand taps against the faceplate. "Kal'Reegar, Migrant Fleet Marines. Chosen of Journeys. Can I ask what the problem is, sir?" Behind him, Traveler shuffles out from his cubicle. He makes it three steps before Siaka seizes him by the windpipe.
Cornuthaum
Be kind to each other.
- Location
- Austria
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I'm telling you, he's not a god in the Bureau of Destiny, he's a GIANT CHICKEN!
Durabys
Miaow! Break the Chains!
- Location
- the land of the Boii
- Pronouns
- He/Him
*facepalm*GreggHL said:
You fool!horngeek said:
On other news..
For those interested to discuss all things Yu-shan and Exalted please visit the..
General Exalted Debate, Third Edition (Actually 2nd)
Thank you for your co-operation.
GreggHL
Engaging hilarity engine/air intake
- Location
- Daejeon, Republic of Korea
Things to note:
1) The Catalyst/Leaping Sky is based on a Dawn solar I've been playing in an on-again, off-again elder Solar game. He is pretty much APP 5/6 or higher. He is very handsome and confident. He is also somewhat based on Uriel.
2) Based on Dirtnap's suggestion, I am tempted to have Kal get into a fight with a giant chicken.
3) Fuck Halta.
1) The Catalyst/Leaping Sky is based on a Dawn solar I've been playing in an on-again, off-again elder Solar game. He is pretty much APP 5/6 or higher. He is very handsome and confident. He is also somewhat based on Uriel.
2) Based on Dirtnap's suggestion, I am tempted to have Kal get into a fight with a giant chicken.
3) Fuck Halta.
29
GreggHL
Engaging hilarity engine/air intake
- Location
- Daejeon, Republic of Korea
Cubicles, Kal thinks. They're called Cubicles. Square little roofless rooms with an open door. Walls decorated with pictures, art, personal touches. Desks with scrolls and paper, notes and pens. Chairs, drawers, desks. Cubicles.
Made out of material which hums with Essence. Made of metal that gives off heat, gives off energy. Jade. Some lined with a gold that is more gold than gold. Some with silver that flows. Some with others. Outside the windows on one side, he can see the spires of Yu Shan from the flying office building that he is inside.
All of them, stretching out into an infinite horizon, filled with beings of every shape, color, number of limbs, and things which he is still trying to put to words. Kal'Reegar tilts his head and stares at the infinite cubicle farm of the Bureau of Destiny, standing in front of Iron Siaka and May Blossom.
They stand at the corner of a block of cubicles. Across the immaculate wooden gap, another man waves back, holding a cup of tea. Tall, human, white and blue hair pulled back into a long braid, he sips his tea and leans against his cubicle wall. Screams echo from somewhere in the distance, a long legged chicken man stomping towards them.
"Traveler! Traveler! You're not done with your paperwork!"
"That's Traveler on Countless Roads," May Blossom says, pointing at the tea-sipping young man. He waves back and winks at May Blossom. "Watch this."
The chicken thing stomps past, walking right past Traveller. The young man turns, sipping his tea and waving. "So," he says, "I'm gonna go find a pub. Anyone want to come, and by 'anyone' I mean 'May Blossom'?"
The pants wearing chicken thing, a large beak open in perpetual angry scream, stomps by them again. "Traveler! You can't just skip out on work like this!"
Underneath his helmet, Kal blinks. The light over his mouth glows steady in response to his open jaw. "Wait, how doesn't he see him? He's walking right past him."
"If they think they're more important than you, they don't see you," Traveler says with a shrug, "He's new. Is he new?" He glances over to Siaka. "So, what, is he the new guy? Because he sounds new."
The chicken man god stomps past again. Shrugging, Kal steps out and walks after it. "Excuse me! Excuse me, sir!"
The three others Sidereals exchange a glance. May Blossom nods. "No what are you doing," Traveler whispers.
The chicken god comes to a skidding halt. Talons dig into the wood floor, carving up splinters. A massive wing knocks against a cubicle wall, and red eyes center on Kal. "Who are you?"
Heels click together. An unfolded hand taps against the faceplate. "Kal'Reegar, Migrant Fleet Marines. Chosen of Journeys. Can I ask what the problem is, sir?" Behind him, Traveler shuffles out from his cubicle. He makes it three steps before Siaka seizes him by the windpipe.
"Oh wait," the god chicken coons, "I should've rephrased that. I meant, 'Who are you, and why should I give a shit?'"
Siaka smiles. It is not a pleasant smile. It is a smile that holds promise for something that is to come. "Hold on there," Kal says, hands up, taking a step back, "I was just offering to help you find the guy. What was his name, Traveler?"
The caw from the god is deafening, cracking Kal's faceplate and making the other Sidereals cover their ears. It stamps its foot and brings its might wing down upon Kal. But.
But.
But Kal'Reegar has been in many conflicts. He has been in many battles. He has faced down Geth, Reapers, aliens, demons. He has boarded ships, he has held lines. He has proven himself as a warrior, a soldier, and more. Kal'Reegar knows battle.
He knows the signs. He knows the portents. So used to the hem and haw of violence, has he finally realized that it is instict.
Yellow eyes snap open. Ears perk up, hearing both the strain of muscle and the faint hum of the cords of Fate. For a brief moment, Kal'Reegar views the Perfected Lotus of Understanding, and instinct takes a name.
Celestial Martial Art:
The Violet Bier of Shadows
Secrets of Future Strife
The wing strikes air, carrying through where Kal was, slamming into the floor. Wood splinters and carrying into the air as a cloud of pulverized sawdust. What the god does not see is where Kal had gone. Rather than disappear, or duck out of this fate, Kal moved.
Dived between the legs before the god struck. Kicked off from a crouch and leapt, hanging in the air when the wing struck.
The god turns just before Kal's arms wrap around its neck from behind. Two three fingered hands grab the god by both side of the head, and the squawking becomes threats, blasphemies. And then a scream when the knuckle dusters built into the gauntlets spark and blast the chicken thing with electricity.
The god drops to the ground, unconscious. Breathing heavily, Kal gets up. He climbs off the avian creature, walking over to the others. One eye peering through the cracked helmet, he walks past Siaka, past May Blossom, and looks Traveler directly in the eye.
"Tell me, in one sentence, why I shouldn't kick your ass."
Siaka's grin threatens to split her head in two. Her hand comes down on Kal's shoulder, just as the jade lions begin charging in through the far doors. "I like him."
Wisely, Noedumari left the office as soon as she could. It would be improper for her to wet herself in the presence of both her boss and the Emerald Mother. Several floors down and halfway across the Hall of Celestial Stability, she found a washroom and has been sitting on an ornamental gold sink, breathing into a paper bag.
Fountains flow with the purest water next to her. Mirrors, lit by Essence, frame her slim form. On her other side, several standing urinals of jade and moonsilver "I'm in the wrong washroom," she moans, hands covering her face.
"Possibly, but I'm not sure. Are you from Luvella's department? Because I can't entirely be sure."
She turns to the open door, and immediately begins breathing in the bag again. A figure made out of light, clad in ornamental clothing, a golden mantle upon his head pulling back hair of white flame and lightning, enters. Walks in. Glides in.
Even with her limited contact with the social circles of Heaven, a small little god like Noedumari recognizes one of the most powerful figures of the Celestial Bureaucracy.
"Lytek," she squeaks.
Made out of material which hums with Essence. Made of metal that gives off heat, gives off energy. Jade. Some lined with a gold that is more gold than gold. Some with silver that flows. Some with others. Outside the windows on one side, he can see the spires of Yu Shan from the flying office building that he is inside.
All of them, stretching out into an infinite horizon, filled with beings of every shape, color, number of limbs, and things which he is still trying to put to words. Kal'Reegar tilts his head and stares at the infinite cubicle farm of the Bureau of Destiny, standing in front of Iron Siaka and May Blossom.
They stand at the corner of a block of cubicles. Across the immaculate wooden gap, another man waves back, holding a cup of tea. Tall, human, white and blue hair pulled back into a long braid, he sips his tea and leans against his cubicle wall. Screams echo from somewhere in the distance, a long legged chicken man stomping towards them.
"Traveler! Traveler! You're not done with your paperwork!"
"That's Traveler on Countless Roads," May Blossom says, pointing at the tea-sipping young man. He waves back and winks at May Blossom. "Watch this."
The chicken thing stomps past, walking right past Traveller. The young man turns, sipping his tea and waving. "So," he says, "I'm gonna go find a pub. Anyone want to come, and by 'anyone' I mean 'May Blossom'?"
The pants wearing chicken thing, a large beak open in perpetual angry scream, stomps by them again. "Traveler! You can't just skip out on work like this!"
Underneath his helmet, Kal blinks. The light over his mouth glows steady in response to his open jaw. "Wait, how doesn't he see him? He's walking right past him."
"If they think they're more important than you, they don't see you," Traveler says with a shrug, "He's new. Is he new?" He glances over to Siaka. "So, what, is he the new guy? Because he sounds new."
The chicken man god stomps past again. Shrugging, Kal steps out and walks after it. "Excuse me! Excuse me, sir!"
The three others Sidereals exchange a glance. May Blossom nods. "No what are you doing," Traveler whispers.
The chicken god comes to a skidding halt. Talons dig into the wood floor, carving up splinters. A massive wing knocks against a cubicle wall, and red eyes center on Kal. "Who are you?"
Heels click together. An unfolded hand taps against the faceplate. "Kal'Reegar, Migrant Fleet Marines. Chosen of Journeys. Can I ask what the problem is, sir?" Behind him, Traveler shuffles out from his cubicle. He makes it three steps before Siaka seizes him by the windpipe.
"Oh wait," the god chicken coons, "I should've rephrased that. I meant, 'Who are you, and why should I give a shit?'"
Siaka smiles. It is not a pleasant smile. It is a smile that holds promise for something that is to come. "Hold on there," Kal says, hands up, taking a step back, "I was just offering to help you find the guy. What was his name, Traveler?"
The caw from the god is deafening, cracking Kal's faceplate and making the other Sidereals cover their ears. It stamps its foot and brings its might wing down upon Kal. But.
But.
But Kal'Reegar has been in many conflicts. He has been in many battles. He has faced down Geth, Reapers, aliens, demons. He has boarded ships, he has held lines. He has proven himself as a warrior, a soldier, and more. Kal'Reegar knows battle.
He knows the signs. He knows the portents. So used to the hem and haw of violence, has he finally realized that it is instict.
Yellow eyes snap open. Ears perk up, hearing both the strain of muscle and the faint hum of the cords of Fate. For a brief moment, Kal'Reegar views the Perfected Lotus of Understanding, and instinct takes a name.
Celestial Martial Art:
The Violet Bier of Shadows
Secrets of Future Strife
The wing strikes air, carrying through where Kal was, slamming into the floor. Wood splinters and carrying into the air as a cloud of pulverized sawdust. What the god does not see is where Kal had gone. Rather than disappear, or duck out of this fate, Kal moved.
Dived between the legs before the god struck. Kicked off from a crouch and leapt, hanging in the air when the wing struck.
The god turns just before Kal's arms wrap around its neck from behind. Two three fingered hands grab the god by both side of the head, and the squawking becomes threats, blasphemies. And then a scream when the knuckle dusters built into the gauntlets spark and blast the chicken thing with electricity.
The god drops to the ground, unconscious. Breathing heavily, Kal gets up. He climbs off the avian creature, walking over to the others. One eye peering through the cracked helmet, he walks past Siaka, past May Blossom, and looks Traveler directly in the eye.
"Tell me, in one sentence, why I shouldn't kick your ass."
Siaka's grin threatens to split her head in two. Her hand comes down on Kal's shoulder, just as the jade lions begin charging in through the far doors. "I like him."
Wisely, Noedumari left the office as soon as she could. It would be improper for her to wet herself in the presence of both her boss and the Emerald Mother. Several floors down and halfway across the Hall of Celestial Stability, she found a washroom and has been sitting on an ornamental gold sink, breathing into a paper bag.
Fountains flow with the purest water next to her. Mirrors, lit by Essence, frame her slim form. On her other side, several standing urinals of jade and moonsilver "I'm in the wrong washroom," she moans, hands covering her face.
"Possibly, but I'm not sure. Are you from Luvella's department? Because I can't entirely be sure."
She turns to the open door, and immediately begins breathing in the bag again. A figure made out of light, clad in ornamental clothing, a golden mantle upon his head pulling back hair of white flame and lightning, enters. Walks in. Glides in.
Even with her limited contact with the social circles of Heaven, a small little god like Noedumari recognizes one of the most powerful figures of the Celestial Bureaucracy.
"Lytek," she squeaks.
GreggHL
Engaging hilarity engine/air intake
- Location
- Daejeon, Republic of Korea
horngeek said:
What would be absolutely hilarious with Lytek is, if he introduces himself to people from, say, outside Creation as the God of Exaltation.Dirtnap said:
And they respond with "Wait, I thought Autochthon was the god of Exaltation. He made them, right?"
HioH
Gentleman, Scholar, Dinosaur
He could make a rather good claim on the position now couldn't he?GreggHL said:
HioH
Gentleman, Scholar, Dinosaur
They need a place to gossip.Alasnuyo said:
GreggHL
Engaging hilarity engine/air intake
- Location
- Daejeon, Republic of Korea
Gods have different needs than mortals. A mortal's needs basically boil down to water, food, and social status, in that order. A god's needs are the same, but reversed. Now, this isn't a bathroom per say. It is a washroom, which is more of a social gathering place where you have gods of similar gender/species/etc gathering while they clean their hands or check their appearance.Alasnuyo said:
Like mortals do. This isn't a biological need, but a social need.
Also, Sidereals need to pee.
Or, to put it in a more simple way, if gods didn't have bathrooms, then higher ranking gods couldn't have executive bathrooms. And that would mean that they wouldn't be able to swan in and out of much more luxurious surroundings. That cannot stand! [1]GreggHL said:
Also, Heaven was originally built for the Primordials and their souls by the Primordials, and demons need to use the toilet, which means all the plumbing is already in place. And there are enough unemployed gods that they will have hobo knife fights to be the god of looking-after-these-toilets, so by keeping toilets around that means the attendants are employed by the Bureau of Heaven.
[1] The main difference between Heaven and Hell is that Hell was designed to be as corrupt and petty and strong-abusing-the-weak as it is, while Heaven evolved all of this naturally.
30
GreggHL
Engaging hilarity engine/air intake
- Location
- Daejeon, Republic of Korea
The black talons pierce shield, flesh, and eye. Or, at least, should. But rather than reduce the upstart ghost to a quivering mass of screams and broken flesh, the claws deflect neatly off what should be the most vulnerable spot of Bright Star's entire body. A hand of flesh and bone clenches, and the side of the fist slams into the Dragon's face with the force of a sledgehammer.
Golden light wafts off of Bright Star. Blue-green eyes narrow into glowing slits. "You think I'm a spirit. You think I am a Deathlord. If I was, do you think my charms would still work for me?" The side of his mouth twitches into a smirk. "Adamant Skin. I learned it one billion years ago. It still makes me invulnerable as long as I do not run."
The Dragon becomes liquid, flowing around the advancing Bright Star. Fists become blurs and stabbing blades. Flesh hardens enough to pierce armor and bone and becomes a flurry of perfect motion at the former Zenith.
He only smiles and opens his arms. Each blow misses him by fingerwidths. Those that he lets get close enough are swatted away by his extended index finger, before he grabs the Dragons' wrist. "Nemesis. Black Mirror Shintai. I've encountered your Infernals, Dragon. Look at the charms you copied and tell me what you see."
The blackened copy of Bright Star's face tilts its head. Eyes widen as white empty spots on shadow. "Well. This is certainly impressive." The warble becomes a giggle, then a laugh.
"I also know enough," Bright Star continues, "That you're not the Dragon. You're one of his souls being puppeted. So get off my station."
A flick of the wrist and the dragon is sent flying, missing the black orb that encased the woman. The dragon bounces off the far wall, leaving a dent, and skitters to its feet. The human form loses definition, becoming a serpent once more.
"And also," Bright Star says, "If I wasn't a Solar Exalted, how could I do this?"
Cupping his hands in front of him, the air goes still. Wind, noise, even the eternal creaking of the station stops. All goes still in time with his words. "I invoke the Sign of Separation and the Mudra of Victory, and harden the walls between these worlds."
One hand extends t the serpent. It's yellow eyes flicker and narrow. Rotted teeth form into a smile. "I involve the true history; and remind those beyond failure of their failure against the Exalted Host!"
Light carved into the floor around the Zenith. The golden disc blazes upon his forehead. "I invoke the Surrender Oaths! Yozi! Your souls walk these shores by my pleasure alone! I invoke the Shadow of All Things to take back your soul!"
The light warps, burns the metal beneath his feet with etched lightning, and gathers into a sphere resting on his extended finger. "I invoke Adamant Circle Banishment."
And it shoots out, into the dragon. It hovers against the Serpent's chest for a single moment, and then pushes in. The shadows crack, fire and light burning through its calcifying body. And then, it is gone- dust retreating into some unseen vortex.
The sphere of darkness flows down, and the woman- obsidian skin, a rat's tail swaying beneath her- appears. "I was wondering when you'd get him to shut up," she says, voice a half purr, half chuckle.
Bright Star folds his hands into the pockets of his robe. "And you are?"
"Impressed." She snaps her fingers. "Oh, right. You'd want a name. That would be Erembour." She grins, landing on bare feet. "And now, my turn to ask a question." She dances through steps, flowing across the dome, and stands in front of him. Looking down, she rises to meet him in the eyes and leans forward.
"My question, then," she says, "What do you want?"
Golden light wafts off of Bright Star. Blue-green eyes narrow into glowing slits. "You think I'm a spirit. You think I am a Deathlord. If I was, do you think my charms would still work for me?" The side of his mouth twitches into a smirk. "Adamant Skin. I learned it one billion years ago. It still makes me invulnerable as long as I do not run."
The Dragon becomes liquid, flowing around the advancing Bright Star. Fists become blurs and stabbing blades. Flesh hardens enough to pierce armor and bone and becomes a flurry of perfect motion at the former Zenith.
He only smiles and opens his arms. Each blow misses him by fingerwidths. Those that he lets get close enough are swatted away by his extended index finger, before he grabs the Dragons' wrist. "Nemesis. Black Mirror Shintai. I've encountered your Infernals, Dragon. Look at the charms you copied and tell me what you see."
The blackened copy of Bright Star's face tilts its head. Eyes widen as white empty spots on shadow. "Well. This is certainly impressive." The warble becomes a giggle, then a laugh.
"I also know enough," Bright Star continues, "That you're not the Dragon. You're one of his souls being puppeted. So get off my station."
A flick of the wrist and the dragon is sent flying, missing the black orb that encased the woman. The dragon bounces off the far wall, leaving a dent, and skitters to its feet. The human form loses definition, becoming a serpent once more.
"And also," Bright Star says, "If I wasn't a Solar Exalted, how could I do this?"
Cupping his hands in front of him, the air goes still. Wind, noise, even the eternal creaking of the station stops. All goes still in time with his words. "I invoke the Sign of Separation and the Mudra of Victory, and harden the walls between these worlds."
One hand extends t the serpent. It's yellow eyes flicker and narrow. Rotted teeth form into a smile. "I involve the true history; and remind those beyond failure of their failure against the Exalted Host!"
Light carved into the floor around the Zenith. The golden disc blazes upon his forehead. "I invoke the Surrender Oaths! Yozi! Your souls walk these shores by my pleasure alone! I invoke the Shadow of All Things to take back your soul!"
The light warps, burns the metal beneath his feet with etched lightning, and gathers into a sphere resting on his extended finger. "I invoke Adamant Circle Banishment."
And it shoots out, into the dragon. It hovers against the Serpent's chest for a single moment, and then pushes in. The shadows crack, fire and light burning through its calcifying body. And then, it is gone- dust retreating into some unseen vortex.
The sphere of darkness flows down, and the woman- obsidian skin, a rat's tail swaying beneath her- appears. "I was wondering when you'd get him to shut up," she says, voice a half purr, half chuckle.
Bright Star folds his hands into the pockets of his robe. "And you are?"
"Impressed." She snaps her fingers. "Oh, right. You'd want a name. That would be Erembour." She grins, landing on bare feet. "And now, my turn to ask a question." She dances through steps, flowing across the dome, and stands in front of him. Looking down, she rises to meet him in the eyes and leans forward.
"My question, then," she says, "What do you want?"