My personal attempts to write a Green Sun Prince. Because, more than anything, Infernals are all about be MORE, everything else like morality and self-righteousness be damned.
----
Green Nuclear Raven
"How-How can this be?"
Kazushi Tsukade was a simple man. Owner of the only shop of general articles in town and one of the few citizens who possessed a truck, it was his duty to travel back and forth through the torturous roads of the mountain that separated the small sea village from the rest of Japan to stock up items that couldn't be easily house-made like medicines. As such he had the most contacts with the outside world, and unlike some of his acquaintances he was grateful for the town's isolation: having witnessed first-hand life under Britannia's rule, that the village was so difficult to reach and totally lacking in anything that might interest the Britannians was a boon. As long as taxes were paid, the citizens were able to live a safe and peaceful life.
Until today, when he returned home after another trip and found a slaughter. People that he knew his entire life, that he exchanged greetings with just the other day, were lying all around the streets, unmoving. He ran to the nearest one, but had to stop and put a hand over his mouth to avoid puking: there was a hole through the man's chest, its borders charred and blackened like they have been burned by an incredibly strong flame. Trembling he ran to another, only to find the same result.
After finding the corpses of his best friend and his entire family Kazushi couldn't stand it anymore: he puked until there was nothing left in his stomach, fought back the tears and ran off to the town hall. "Isora-sama! I need to find Isora-sama! He will know what is happening!"
Kazushi was also one of those in the know about the supernatural side of the world. Isora was not only the town's mayor but also its protector god: he shielded the village from Britannia's worst aspects, and seventeen years ago when a raid of seafaring Fae came to ransack the village Isora stopped and made them go away with pure diplomacy, without even a single victim.
"Isora-sama!" Kazushi slammed open the doors and ran inside. "Iso-!" And promptly stopped at the sight that greeted his eyes: there, burned on the ground, was the blackened silhouette of a person, glittering ash covering its borders while the remains of a rising cloud of smoke in the shape of a fungal bloom could still be seen. Kazushi felt a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. "What, is this-"
SLASH!
Kazushi screamed in agony as a searing-hot pain cut through his legs, making him fall on the ground with an undignified stumble.
"Unyu? It's Tsukade-san! Welcome back Tsukade-san!"
Having realized with sinking horror that the missing feeling of his feet was because he didn't have feet anymore - they have been cut off cleanly, the bleeding stumps cauterized by extreme heat - he directed a trembling, incredulous look at the culprit. "O-Okuu?" The young girl was a well know presence in the village: having being conceived between a Raksha Noble and one of the village's woman as part of the Fae's Oaths to leave the village alone, something those unaware believed has been rape, the half-Fae was the town's secret shame and resident pariah because of the small crow wings growing from her back.
Only, now her wings were much bigger, each as tall as her. She was also glowing with green fire that didn't burn her, and in her hand she held the weapon that maimed Kazushi: a long spear made of green, frizzling energy.
"W-What happened here?" He asked, fighting back the pain. "Where is Isora-sama?"
"He's dead." She said with a smile that chilled Kazushi for its innocence. "And I mean dead-dead. He isn't going to reform. Skest says I destroyed his soul."
"You what?!" Kazushi screamed, pushing himself away from the girl until he hit the wall. "How did you-? Who's Skest? You....You killed everyone."
"Yep!" She bobbed her head up and down.
"Why?"
"Because I loved him of course!" She said cheerfully. She seemed to pause for a few seconds before continuing. "Ah! Skest says you probably want to know the whole story. Sorry, sorry!" She playfully hits her head. "Do you know how everyone always made fun of me, threw rocks at me and picked at my wings?"
Kazushi knew. He never participated but to his secret shame he most often than not just ignored those episodes when passing nearby. Being the child of supposed rape put a stigma on Okuu, and her wings also marked her as a freak. It was only because her continued existence was part of the Fae Oaths that Isora-sama commanded everyone to make sure she stayed alive: they obeyed his orders, but nobody truly loved Okuu despite her being one of the sweeter and gentler girls Kazushi ever met.
"It has always been that way so I thought it was normal, even when I was alone and the only way I had to pass the time was pretending my small wings could let me fly." Her smile fell. "Then, one day, something bad appeared inside me. It kept telling me that everyone was a bad person, and that I had to hurt them. It was so scary that I never mentioned it to anyone, but it just kept getting stronger every time someone was mean to me."
That thing is called hate. It was what Kazushi wanted to say, but his mouth refused to move.
"Yesterday was the worst. Ono-san yelled and slapped me saying I stole her freshly-made cake, even if I hadn't eaten anything in days. The bad thing was screaming so loudly I almost obeyed her and hit Ono-san!" She made a sad smile. "But Okuu is a good girl, so I didn't. I apologized, even if I wasn't my fault, and went back to my house to sleep even if my tummy hurt."
She brightened up. "That's when I met Skest! He told me that if I agreed to help his owners I would never feel pain again and everyone would stop being mean to me. I don't remember what happened after that, but then I met this nice lady who spoke without talking and had bright white teeth. She said that, to get rid of the bad thing inside me, I just had to let go. So I did. And then I understood!" She jumped back and forth on her feet. "Everyone being mean to me was just their way of showing their love to me! Because the nice lady said there is no love without pain. So after I woke up I made sure everyone knew I love them too!"
Kazushi's face was pale: not from bloodloss, but from sheer horror. "Okuu no, that's no-"
"It's too bad everyone died so quickly, because I wanted to show them much, much more of my love. Even Isora-sama didn't last very long. He also called me Anathema. Whatever that means." She kept frowning for a few seconds before brightening up. "So, since Okuu was an impatient girl, do you mind if I made up with you Tsukade-san?"
And then, before Kazushi could protest, she raised her spear and slightly grazed his stomach. Kazushi screamed as green flames burned his flesh, but as quickly as they came they were gone, leaving behind a large sunburn, itchy but hardly unbearable.
"There!" Okuu sit down to the side of Kazushi and stared at him. "Now we wait!"
"W-Wait?" He croaked out. "Wait for what?"
"For you to die of course! This will be very, very, very painful. So say Skest!"
----
Okuu. He's dead.
"Unyu?" She poked the disfigured corpse's cheek. "Tsukade-san, are you alive? Tsukade-san? Unyu, I think you're right. Just when I finally found cookies." She stared sadly at the sweets in her hands before shrugging and putting one in her mouth, smiling at the taste. "He had been in so much pain, especially towards the end. I hope he appreciated my love."
I am sure he did. Now that everyone is dead there is nothing left tying you to this place. We must move on and quickly reach Marshal Zero, so that you can start aiding the Reclamation.
"Sure thing!" She stood up and began to walk away. "This will be my first time seeing the outside world! Do you think Marshal Zero and the others like me will love me?"
I believe they will firmly fall in the category of 'friends'. Do you remember what I taught you?
"Yes!" She nodded vigorously. "Friends are nice to one another but don't love each other, so they don't hurt each other!"
Very good Okuu. But don't worry: the enemies of the Yozi are numerous, and they will shower you with love. Be sure to reciprocate them, as Blessed Adorjan tasked you to.
"Unyu!!"
Name: Okuu
Gender: Female
Age: 16
Caste: Scourge
Favored Yozi: Malfeas
Motivation: Enjoy "Love"
Urge: Love your enemies (Adorjani)
Anima Banner: a six-winged, three-legged crow with crimson and black feathers, a great green star burning in its chest
Ok, decided I'd make a navy oriented Infernal, but went with a pirate. We could probably still use another navy type Infernal, but this ensures we've got one. Anyways, normally a pirate would probably fare well with Kimbery, and this one especially would given she's a Lintha descendant who actually worships Kimbery, but Kimbery is all out of slots and she was greedy and enterprising enough to catch Ta'akozoka's attention.
========
"Please! Don't do this, Captain. I'm not a traitor! I'm not!" the traitor screamed.
Lukkage sighed. He was lying through his teeth. Even if Jihengal hadn't told her that it was this treasonous little shit that had been responsible for the destruction of most of her fleet she would have seen right through him as he was. "Borin, it's no use. I know you sold us out to Britannia. Us! Your clan! Your crew! Your blood! You have betrayed all that and more, and caused hundreds of us to die in that trap. For what? Money?" Perhaps it was a bit hypocritical for her to ask this while casually admiring the jeweled rings on her fingers, but it wasn't like she had sold out her clan for them. Not like this fool.
"No! Dammit! I don't want to die!" Borin yelled out, desperately. "Mercy! Please, have mercy, Captain!"
"Oh no, Borin, I can't do that. You have turned on us, against kin and clan, and that can't be forgiven. Though you are of our blood, thinned though it has been over the millennia, so I cannot deny you your funeral rites." She gestured imperiously with her fan. "Veesil, play a dirge!"
"Yes, Captain!" Veesil responded, beginning to play the clan's traditional song of mourning. The other crewmen began carrying Borin's bound form towards the edge of the ship.
"Fuck you, Lukkage! You damn bitch, like I'd follow a damn wench! Your damn father MMMPH" The filth's outburst was cut short as one of the crew had the good sense to gag him before he said anything more. Already Lukkage could feel her blood boiling. The nerve! Acting as if she was inferior as a captain because she was a woman. Objectively, she knew that Borin had not been the only one to think that, in spite of the fact that the Great Mother's teachings cared nothing about the gender of her children. Not all of the men cared for the teachings, though, thinking them old tales.
Lukkage knew better. Her father had taught her the great history of the Red Lintha Clan, how the Great Mother Sea had birthed their noble ancestors, the various rites to appease the sea spirits, and so much more. Even so, many of the others were too weak to grasp the teachings, but that would change now. She had lost most of the clan to treachery, but what was left was strong, and she now had proof of the teachings. She had gained great power, and through that the Red Lintha Clan would prosper once more. Oh, certainly they already had wealth, but it wasn't enough. She would not rest until the clan was so wealthy that it was the envy of the entire world.
Still, she had to deal with the misogynists within the clan now and again. It hasn't been too troublesome. All she had to do was project an aura of complete invincibility and ruthlessly crush all who opposed her. After that, it was merely a matter of ensuring that she had enough success to keep the crew supplied with enough booze, women, and entertainment to keep them happy. Most men were simple creatures with simple needs, after all. Not that she was too terribly different, she thought as she yanked on the chains of one of her two slaves so as to better admire the girl's face. Lukkage simply had more expensive tastes than them was all. Perhaps that was why she had been chosen by Ta'akozoka instead of the Great Mother?
It didn't matter. She would go to meet and honor the Great Mother in time, after she had the approval of the Marshal of the Althing to journey into Hell. That should hopefully not take long. But right now...
She stood, giving the simple rites of funeral that was even a traitor's due as was her duty as the head of the clan. "Borin of the Red Lintha Clan, who is of our blood, from the sea we where born and to the sea we must all return! I consign your body to the deep in the name of the Great Mother."
"In the name of the Great Mother." repeated the whole of the crew at once as they cast him overboard. She smiled knowing that the sharks that had been gathering after they had chummed the waters would feast upon his still living flesh.
"Well, now that that's over, how would you boys like to make a trip to Japan? I'm told we might be able to get some fancy new ships there with which to loot and plunder to our hearts' content!"
Name: Lukkage
Gender: Female
Age: 19
Caste: Malefactor
Patron Yozi: Ta'akozoka
Motivation: Become the most feared and wealthy pirate in all the world.
Urge: Seize control of Areas 7, 8, and 9 from Britannia.
Anima Banner: A mass of tentacles arising from a sea that are tearing apart ships and stealing treasures from them.
Traits from Coadjutor: Her nails and lips have become permanently ruby colored. There are also ruby colered markings on the outer sides of her eyes. All of this is able to pass for makeup. (-0)
Dexterity 4 (15 days left) (7 Xp not yet paid)
Dodge (9 day accumulated)
Athletics (9 day accumulated)
Resistance (9 day accumulated)
Firearms (9 day accumulated)
144 - 31 = 113 Xp
September 8th
"The operation is tomorrow night." You tell Ohgi through the phone. "A few men will suffice."
"Alright Zero. But tell me, what are we going to do with this guy? He's a scumbag, yes, but he's still a fellow Japanese."
"Nothing drastic." Hearing someone coming you walk further up the stairs, resting near a window. "We will just show the proof of his misdeeds to the other residents of the ghetto and give them all the money he accumulated so far. After that, we will just leave him to their judgment. I don't think they will go farther than a beating, but just in case we will stay to watch." You shrug: honestly you couldn't care less even if they hang him, but the guy's crimes aren't so bad that death will be widely seen as proportionate punishment. The Black Knights must keep up a façade of absolute fairness.
"I suppose that's fair. See you later Zero."
"See you later Ohgi." You reply before ending the call. Putting the phone back into your pocket you lean against the wall and look out of the window.
Ever since the spectacular introduction of Zero and the Black Knights with the Anson Affair (even if the video took some tweaking - you can't have the world see Zero running away, even if perfectly justified in doing so), the Black Knights have been the 'Allies of the Weak'. Terrorists that involve civilians, criminals, abusive soldiers: each day you and the others punish 'Evil' that couldn't be judged by the law, and a result the Black Knights' exploits are always on newspapers, TV and Internet.
"Boss. Me...and the girls - they insisted - want to know: do you really believe in this philosophy, or is it all a lie?"
You suppress a groan. Anesidora and Sinnihtáre have been even more active lately: they can't directly communicate with you, so they use Seyrun as an intermediary. You can't bring yourself to be angry with them, but the feeling of your mind, soul, whatever getting crowded is still unsettling.
'I believe in the core points. 'Allies of the Weak' and 'Evil' are embellishments, clichè terms that the masses can easily identify with. That's what I am aiming for: general consensus.'
Your mind goes back to the war. 'Is it good to be strong? Is it bad to be weak? When I was 10 years old, the world seemed such a sad place: starvation, disease, filth, corruption, discrimination, war and terrorism. An unending cycle of hatred, repeated again and again.'
You chuckle without mirth. 'And then I found out there is a higher power, but it's just as corrupted, if not more so. Suddenly my problems seemed both so small and yet so much more complicated. It's an odd feeling. But to answer your question: it is not a matter of strong and weak, good and evil.' Your gaze hardens. 'The matter is that this world is undergoing a downward spiral of self-destruction because everyone is doing whatever they want without a single thought for the future. So if I need to conquer the world to save it, that's exactly what I will do.'
"Put it that way, I see your point...Also, the girls are showering you with praise. They're using words like 'cool' and 'magnificent'."
You smile. 'Tell them I am thankful, and that soon I will come to visit them again.'
"Sure, sure. I am a nanny now, aren't I? It's a great honor, they said. I want to watch them in my place, I want. Let's see if those bas-"
You tune Seyrun out, not in the mood to listen to his rants, even if justified. Maybe you should do something nice for him? Like finally starting to look into expanding the Dark-Green Fangs?
[] Let's do it.
[] Maybe another time.
{====}
After school you return home, and find the Chernobaalim and Peronelle messengers, Jikhs and Kasr, waiting for you. "I trust my messages were delivered?" You ask them while sitting on a chair.
"Yes, Lord Marshal." Jikhs replies. "Unquestionable Sagarduia expressed satisfaction that Peer Akio was successfully brought back to his proper role. She also expressed irritation that the Unwoven Coadjutor is damaged to the point of uselessness, though it is a minor issue that shouldn't impact Peer Akio's mission negatively."
"Regarding his mission, does Sagarduia know what it is?"
"She was privy to such information. She said that Peer Akio's mission, as ordained by the Principle of Hierarchy, is to [Unite the resistance groups of every Area into a single force]."
"Good luck with that!" Kasr laughs loudly before Jikhs stops him with a slap.
Sadly, you have to agree with the demon. There is no way that moron could do it efficiently. "Please report to Unquestionable Sagarduia that I will personally aid Peer Akio's mission, as it aligns greatly to my plans to further the Reclamation."
"It will be done." The two demons reply.
"Good. What of my message to Great Ligier?"
"Unquestionable Ligier was pleased there is concrete proof of the Underworld Exalted's existence. That they show behavior akin to ghosts and not living beings intrigues him, so he commanded any captured specimen to be delivered to him personally. If capture is not possible the corpse will suffice."
"I understand. Report that I will do my best to capture one." Even if it will not be easy, but even a single Celestial-tier Exalt that can not be set against you is a huge bonus. "Anything else?"
"Yes. There is another Peer that will soon arrive here in Japan." Jikhs replies. "His name is Nathan Coulter. Info transmitted through local cults say he will arrive the day September 9th with the flight 642 at Tokyo Airport."
Interesting. Your fellow Peers are finally arriving. "What can you tell me about him? And how will I recognize him?"
"I only know he comes from the Britannian Homeland." The Chernobaalim scratches his side with a paw. "The cultist that sent the message humbly suggested holding up a large sign with his name."
"...It gets the job done I suppose." You say after a few seconds of silence. It's simple but effective. Not exactly how you would have done it, but there is no reason to overcomplicate things. "Anything else?"
"That is everything."
You nod. "Very well. You may go."
{====}
September 9th
Third Person's POV
The airport is crowded, practically choked with people. They are chatting, yelling, screaming, singing and in one odd instance whispering. None of that matters to a particular soul though, as he is too busy looking for the people he was supposed to meet. And desperately trying to get the voice in his head to shut up.
'And then, I slowly-'
'Damnit Namaht, what part of "I don't want to hear about your exploits from back when you had a body" do you not get?! I am trying to find the person I'm supposed to talk to, and you are not helping! If you're so interested in talking, then a better use would be helping me remember what our contact looks like. Or just talking about your biological experiments would more palatable than your other job.'
'Ugh, very well. Spoilsport. As I recall, we were merely told that our contact would be holding up a large sign with your name on it. By the way, you may want to start moving somewhere. There's a fellow coming up near you that I rather think is intent on stealing from you.'
'What? Oh, right. Very well then. Thank you.'
With that, Nathan begins following the advice of the demonic courtesan in his head, while continuing the conversation.
'So, what do you know about the Marshall? I mean, you're the one that's from Hell.'
'Just because I am from Hell that doesn't mean that I know anything about him. Besides, I was sent out about the same time the news of his appointment arrived, so I unfortunately can't help you there. I can tell you though that he is almost certainly a Fiend. Apparently the Ebon Dragon specifically chose him, and talked quite a bit about him.'
'Oh. Is that it? You can't tell me who his Patron is?'
'Sorry, no. Just his Caste and name...which I should probably go ahead and tell you. Zero.'
'Zero? Huh. Odd, that's the same name of the leader of the Black Knights.'
'Is that so? I have to say-THERE!'
'AH! Yozi Dammit woman, must you be so loud?! I swear, if you were corporeal that could have ruptured an eardrum!'
'Yes, yes, I'm very sorry, but look! There's a blond girl holding a sign with your name on it! Near the checkout line, next to a rather delicious looking man about your own age.'
Looking for himself, the Infernal Exalt sees that his Coadjutor is right. There is indeed a blonde girl next to a black-haired fellow, the blonde girl is indeed holding a sign with his name on it, and both of them are, to put it mildly, very attractive.
'Very well. Now then, Namaht, let's go and meet our fellow Peers, shall we?'
'I couldn't agree with you more, Nathan.'
Walking up to the two Nathan bows, extends a hand and says in Japanese: "Greetings. I understand that you two are the people I've been looking for?"
"And you're Nathan Coulter." Lelouch replies in English, shaking his hand. "I said this because you just spoke Japanese, the use of which is banned here in Area Eleven." He quickly looks left and right, confirming no one seemed to have noticed. Satisfied he gives out his own name. "My name is Lelouch Lamperouge. Nice to meet you."
"I'm Milly Ashford!" The blonde says cheerfully while taking Nathan's hand and shaking it vigorously, which seems to slightly embarrass the brunette.
"Not so loud, Milly." Lelouch rolls his eyes. However, while Nathan isn't looking at him he sets his gaze back on the brunette and channels a trickle of Essence in his eyes, activating one of his recently learned Malfeasan powers.
'Weaker than me, and...it tastes of brass and glass?'
'Eh, it happens. But his Essence is definitely Malfeasan.'
Satisfied with the knowledge the brunette is truly a Green Sun Prince Lelouch points behind himself. "Shall we go?"
Once Nathan picks up his luggage the three of them leave the airport, where a limousine of the Ashford family is waiting for them. Once the car starts moving Milly pushes a button, and a black divider slides down between them and the driver.
"Sound-proof." Lelouch explains, knocking on the surface. "A necessary precaution. Now then, allow me to introduce myself properly: I am the Marshal of the Althing Infernal and the one coordinating the Reclamation efforts here on Creation proper for the foreseeable future. Lelouch Lamperouge is my mundane identity here in Area Eleven, but I prefer to be called Zero." He folds his fingers together, resting them on his lap, and crosses his legs. "Before we begin, do you mind telling me what the Black Knights' current reputation is in the Homeland? Is Britannia's censorship system suppressing info, or painting them in a very negative way?"
Taking a moment to process the fact that the leader of the Black Knights is also the Marshal, Nathan ponders what he had seen and heard. It is interesting what Zero's name is though. Isn't Lelouch the same name as one of the Princes, one that died young? Ah well, that doesn't really matter right now.
"I would have to say...that the Black Knights are currently viewed as a controversial group. Your releases of evidence of the crimes Anson committed have mostly been taken down by the government, but enough copies have remained that people are thinking of you as heroes. Your little video speech certainly won you a number of supporters among the more downtrodden members of society. As for how the official propaganda is painting you...I'd have to say that they are currently painting you as would-be vigilantes that happened to get lucky. They admit that Anson committed the crimes, but they're trying to downplay the scope of his misdeeds, while saying that you were randomly targeting nobles and just happened to hit someone who deserved it. I unfortunately can't really tell you how the nobles think of you, as I no longer have any friends among their ranks. If I were to guess though, I would say negatively, as your first target was a noble."
"Such a response was within my predictions." Lelouch comments. 'Let them downplay us: the longer they underestimate the Black Knights, the less prepared they would be when it's time to strike.'
Taking another moment, Nathan ponders whether or not he'll be asked to aid the Black Knights. If Zero is also the leader of the Althing Infernal, it stands to reason that the Black Knights would be aiding the Reclamation. Perhaps they were meant to serve as the beginning stage of an army? "Marshal, if you don't mind, I have some questions. Will I be asked to aid the Black Knights in addition to my fellow Infernals? And will I be expected to aid in combat operations?"
"The answer to the first question is: only if you wish to do so. I have yet to introduce the members of the Black Knights to the supernatural and Yozi worship, something I'll leave to the Malefactor of my Coven, so I told them my anonymous backers asked me to train new recruits. Your help will be appreciated however, unless your mission requires your attention elsewhere?"
Nathan shakes his head. "No, it's just that I don't know how to fight, so I don't know how useful I would be."
"I see. This brings us to the second question: no, you are not expected to aid in combat operations. It wouldn't make sense since, like you just admitted, you have no combat experience. But, there are many other possible roles beside being a fighter. What is your Caste, and what are your abilities? It would also help to know who your Patron and your mission is."
"I'm a Defiler, Chosen of Elloge the Sphere of Speech." Nathan promptly answers. "The mission I was given is to [Reveal to the world the atrocities Britannia will commit to achieve its goals]. Abilities...well I am a programmer, though since my Exaltation I used my Caste's affinities to expand my ability to build things. It was my hope I would be able to work in a lab designing useful things."
"I see." Lelouch takes a few moments to add the new variables to his plans. "I believe there are plenty of possible roles for you outside of the battlefield. You can use your expertise with computers to hack into Britannia's private servers and steal their secrets, or design programs to subvert them. My Coven's Defiler is also coming to Japan soon: she is a Knightmare designer and also adapted much of Malfeas' technology to use in the modern world. Since you will formally train under her, you can use the chance to help her and also learn more. What do you think?"
"Hacking, uh? Never tried it before, but it should be easy." Nathan muses. "And working on the Black Knights' equipment sounds good. Yes, I believe I will do it."
"Excellent." After that Lelouch seems to ponder something for a few seconds. "In this case, I would like to ask you a favor. This is not an order, and I will reward you accordingly if you say yes."
"Uh, sure. What is it?"
"It concerns one of our fellow Peers, Akio Murakami of the Slayer Caste, Chosen of the Principle of Hierarchy." Lelouch sighs. "Sadly his Coadjutor was damaged during the Exaltation and is currently incapable of communicating, so I had to explain everything myself. Plus he's a moron."
Nathan blinks.
"I mean it. He appears perfectly normal and he's a very friendly man, but even a squirrel has more common sense than him." Lelouch scowls before relaxing. "As such I would like to ask you to, let's say, 'look after him'. Only until I can send Akio to Malfeas without the risk of him accidentally offending an Unquestionable. Also the Black Knights are currently all Japanese, and as such have some difficulties trusting Britannians. But if you are friends with Akio when I present you two to them it will be easier for them to accept you."
"Oh, now I understand. Well, I have no problems with that. I was going to get to know my fellow Peers anyway. In exchange..." Nathan scratches his head. "I would like to find some way to start a news company of my own or take over an existing one. I want to start making progress towards completing the mission from Lady Elloge, and this seems like something that would help a lot. Oh, can you also introduce me to a good school here in Area Eleven? I still need to graduate..."
"What do my ears hear? A good school? Then looks no further!" Milly exclaims in a pompous manner. "Ashford Academy is the cream of the crop, one of the best private institutions in Britannia!"
"Favoritism much?" Lelouch laughs. "But it's true. Incidentally, Milly is the headmaster's granddaughter and Student Council President, while I am the Vice-President. So enrolling you will be easy. But most of the students are nobles, so if that is a problem..."
"No, it's alright." Nathan shakes his head. "Just had a...bad experience with one. That's all." He smiles at the blonde. "Thank you for the help Miss Ashfo-"
"Milly!" She jabs a finger, the tip resting a few centimeters from Nathan's nose. "Call me Milly!"
"Uuh...thank you, Milly?"
"Perfect!" She crosses her arms and nods.
Lelouch facepalms. "Please excuse Milly, she follows no pace but her own. Apart from that, rest assure that you will receive our full support: taking control of a news company isn't easy, but it's doable."
"Miss Ashford, Mister Lamperouge: we have arrived." The driver's voice comes from the intercom.
"Oh, good. I rented a large apartment near Ashford Academy to house our fellow Peers." Lelouch explains to Nathan. "Akio is staying there."
Coming out of the car Lelouch and Milly helps Nathan take out his luggage. Walking in front of the building's main door Lelouch opens it with his key and enters.
"Hoooomeeee....RUN!"
And promptly dissolves into shadows, narrowly avoiding the massive projectile that would have taken off his head before reforming. The projectile passes in front of the stunned Milly and Nathan before smashing into the ground, revealing itself to be a metal statue.
"Oh! Hey Lelouch!" Akio cheerfully greets with a thumb-up, the white Goremaul resting on his shoulder.
"AKIO! WHAT THE HELL?!?" Lelouch roars, gasping slightly. "Did you just try to kill me?!"
"What? No: I was just bored and decided to my hand at this 'baseball' thing I saw in TV."
"...Using a warhammer as a bat." Lelouch says flatly. "And one of the statues you forced me to move on as the ball."
"Yep!" Akio nods with a smile. "Together with your big-ass spiders as the pitchers."
The ravenette turns a frosty glare to the Anuhles he stationed there, who are sweating in a panic.
"Is it safe now?" Milly asks while peeking inside. Seeing it was only Akio she walks inside, dragging Nathan by the arm. "Yoyoyo Akio! We bring gifts: a fellow Green Sun Prince!"
"U-uhm..." Nathan begins with a stammer, both from the near-death experience and the sight of Lelouch beating a group of giant spiders with a chair. Gulping to regain courage he decides to show respect to his senior Infernal by addressing him in Old Realm. "Greetings. I am-"
"Waitwaitwait!" Akio interrupts. "We're using Old Realm? Then let me do this first! I finally learned the damn thing after a week and I want to try it."
The grey-haired man clears his throat before addressing Nathan with an easy-going smile.
"Greetings. My name is Akio, and I paint your father's ass with melon ice-cream."
Nathan stares back with an expressionless face.
'...How does he even breath?'
'I don't know Namaht, but suddenly I am starting to have second thoughts about this.'
====
I said this was an interlude, but I ended up putting up a vote. Oh well.
Next is the arrival of the W-0 Unit, Nadir and Yelena to Japan. Stay tuned!
The original idea belongs to Mortifer. +3 Xp for him.
====
There was blood everywhere. On the walls, on the floors, on the ceiling, and most certainly covering the girl dressed in black.
The sight would have shocked Angelina in most circumstances. At that moment, however, she was more concerned with the fact that it was her blood that had splattered everywhere.
No, more than that, Angelina was shocked at who had bled her like this.
The black haired girl before her was no stranger. Indeed, they knew each other well. After all, what kind of aunt would she be, if she didn't know here niece?
...Of course, after this display, Angelina couldn't believe that the demonic girl before her was actually dear little Ciara. Even if Ciara had been changed from her parent's death, how a cheerful child such as her could become such an emotionless killer was impossible to comprehend.
A moment passed, as Angelina lay on the flow, covered in her own blood. Ciara had attacked with a frenzy earlier, and yet now, she only watched.
Was she waiting for Angelina to bleed out? Prolonging her suffering? But...
"...Why?" Asked the woman. The girl in black tilted her head, and Angelina continued. "...Why are you... Doing this?"
Ciara took a step forward, expressionless. "Let's make a deal." She said simply. "You answer my question, and I'll answer yours."
Ciara took another step towards Angelina, and the woman paused, before her curiosity won out. If she was going to die, she wanted to know why.
After Angelina nodded, Ciara spoke. "You remember Father's friend Steven, right? I've been looking for him, but I heard he enlisted in the Britannian Army, and have no idea where he is..."
Angelina's eyes widened in a sudden realization. "No..." She wheezed. "Won't let you... Kill him too..."
Ciara leaned down over Angelina, watching her. After a moment, a clawed hand drove into the woman's leg, eliciting a scream from Angelina.
"Won't you?" Asked Ciara. "Perhaps I'll have to add an incentive. Would you prefer a quick death, or would you rather I keep causing you pain?"
Angelina gritted her teeth, and tried to resist. But as Ciara stabbed into her once again, her fear of pain overwhelmed her, and she spoke.
"Area Eleven." Angelina gasped, instantly hating herself for it. A little bit of pain had caused her to give in, to sign a friend's death warrant? How pathetic.
Ciara stepped back around Angelina, before leaning in front of her. "Good. And as for your question."
One of the girl's hands reached out, lifting the woman by her neck. "It's simple. After Mother and Father were killed, I was sad. I hated being sad. The pain of losing those I loved... I hated it.
"But then, Muirenn came to me. And she said that the pain of loss was a human feeling. So I decided... I didn't want to be human anymore."
Ciara looked at Angelina, a small smile gracing her otherwise emotionless face.
"That's why I have to kill you. That's why I have to kill everyone else I know. It's like Muirenn said... If you're alive to remind me that I'm human, I'll keep feeling that pain. I don't want that. And... To avoid feeling it again... You have to die."
Angelina opened her mouth to speak. She wanted to call the girl insane. She wanted to ask who Muirenn was. She wanted to beg for her life.
Before she could decide what to say, Ciara squeezed, and crushed her skull.
Name: Ciara Mukade
Age: 17
Motivation: To destroy all ties to her previous 'Human' life.
Urge: To kill the loved ones of her enemies, before she kills them (Adorjani)
Caste: Slayer
Patron Yozi: Adorjan
Anima Banner: Two giant centipedes, emerging from her waist as if bursting out of her flesh.
Attributes: Strength 3, Dexterity 5, Stamina 3; Charisma 2, Manipulation 2, Appearance 3; Perception 4, Intelligence 3, Wits 2
Virtues: Compassion 1, Conviction 4, Temperance 2, Valor 2
Abilities: Archery 2, Martial Arts 3, Melee 2, Thrown 2, War 2; Resistance 3, Stealth 2 , Athletics 3, Dodge 3, Awareness 2; Linguistics 1 (English, Old Realm), Investigation 1, Survival 2
Backgrounds: Backing (Yozi) 2, Cult (Yozi) 2, Influence (Yozi) 2 Coadjutor (Muirenn) 4
Essence: 3
Willpower: 6
Charms: Malfeas
First Malfeas Excellency and other General Charms
By Pain Reforged
By Rage Recast
Purity of Madness Defence
By Hunger Nourished
Hardened Devil Body
Lethal Attack (3 Points) (Claws and Tentacle)
Piercing Attack (3 Points) (Claws and Tentacle)
Limb Regeneration (2 Points)
Additional Arm (4 Points) (Tentacle)
Fast Ground Movement (3 Points)
Fast Climbing (2 Points)
Jumper (3 Points)
Wall-Crawler (4 Points)
Hyper-Awareness (2 Points)
Night Vision (2 Points)
Natural Armour (2 Points) (Thick Skin)
Adorjan
First Adorjan Excellency and other General Charms
Sacred Kamilla's Inhalation
Freedom Lets Go
Wind-Born Stride
Running To Forever
Murder Is Meat
Omake - Scenes in the Lives of Britannian Royalty, Part 1 (Canon)
Clovis La Britannia leant forwards and stared at the soldier who now knelt before him. Normally he had little time to listen to the words of Elevens who were not involved in either Governance or Art, but not only did this one have an important perspective, he was an interesting individual in his own right. There was something memorable about an Eleven who lived in accordance with the Emperor's philosophy of Evolution through Conflict, but Clovis also knew that this one had a grievance in common with him, with both of them having had a mutual friend slain 7 years ago by the barbaric Japanese government. An irony, given his identity, but perhaps that was what made him so trustworthy for the Britannian cause.
"Honorary Britannian Suzaku Kururugi, stand. Do you know why you are here?"
The white-clad pilot shook his head. "No, my lord."
"During the recent incident in Shinjuku, treasonous elements within the Britannian Military sabotaged efforts to combat the terrorist threat. Your position as an Honorary Britannian who participated in the battle and made critical contributions to the combat effort all suggest strongly that you were independent of any influence from these traitors, making your testimony invaluable for the investigation. Kindly describe the actions of the other Britannian Frames during the time you were using the Lancelot."
"Well, I wasn't sortied with the other soldiers. The Lancelot was only cleared to engage after most of the other troops had fallen. The terrorists appeared to be using Britannian Sutherlands, but did not have active transponders running. There was an eceptionally skilled non-transponder Sutherland that was definitely piloted by a terrorist, but whom was defended by a Sutherland running an active transponder. I couldn't say for sure whether that pilot was one of the terrorists or a Britannian behaving treasonously. The terrorists may have managed to get access to a Britannian Frame by somehow killing it's pilot whilst it was still active and connected to the network."
"I am aware of the existence of that particular Frame. It's pilot has already been identified and is being located as we speak. What about earlier in the day-I understand you were wounded by another Britannian soldier? Was it pre-planned?"
"....I can't actually say I know for sure what the motive was for that. At the time, I'd simply believed he was being overzealous in his duties, trying to execute a Britannian friend I could personally confirm was not involved with the Terrorists, and shooting me for getting in the way. It is theoretically possible that the situation could have been created as an excuse to hurt me, but it seems unlikely, since….well, up until then I'd thought he was dead. That's far too weird a situation to manufacture."
Clovis paused a moment in thought. "I do seem to recall that the Infantry Commander challenged your injury report based on grounds of credulity."
Suzaku frowned uncertainly. "I am aware of how strange it sounds, but I can only honestly say that I saw….someone who I thought had been killed, followed by me getting shot and then the other soldiers being attacked by…well, monsters."
Clovis eyed him consideringly. The soldier was obviously not familiar with the supernatural, and it was probably not a productive way to continue the conversation to try to convince him that the 'monsters' were likely demons summoned by a Dragonblooded Purist, and that whoever this 'dead Britannian friend' was, he was probably the ghost of a fellow soldier created during the battle. Luckily, there was a ready explanation to hand.
"Investigation of the scene did not suggest the presence of any unidentified deceased individuals. It is probable that some of the poison gas escaped from the crashed truck, resulting in a mild dosing of it that caused you to hallucinate. That friend is probably in fact as dead as you believed them to be, and the 'monsters' likely a product of a mind dealing with the pain of being shot. There's no shame in falling prey to such an effect. Still, there may be some useful information hidden among the strangeness. Did you notice anything else? Do you recall if any of the other soldiers were Purists?"
Suzaku stared at the carpet as he spoke.
"I don't think they all were, but judging by various remarks he had made earlier, the Captain might have been a Purist. I do recall that shortly before the...what I perceived as a monster attack....he informed the rest of the unit that they were to report all civilians as having been slain before they got there. The monsters all looked like giant spiders and one of them was wearing a bandoleer with pockets. Um, I suppose that's not relevant though. That said, I definitely remember there being a strange girl present. She had green hair and was wearing something that looked like a straightjacket. I believe she got shot after I did."
Clovis frowned. It wouldn't do to have news of C.C. get out, but the pilot had already proven himself useful. Best just to play on his existing excuse.
"I see. It may well have been that your other recollections were tainted by the poison gas. I would ask that you not mention your account of events to others, as it might cause confusion to those who are without the data needed to sort the facts."
Clovis sighed and dismissed the young soldier, before leaning back in thought. There were too many possibilities in this scenario. It may have been the Purists making a play to enforce their agenda of promoting the use of Britannian Exalts and Geass Users in the Britannian Military, but if the Captain had been a Purist, the deaths of him and his troop suggested the possibility of other players. It may have been Dragonbloods intent on denying the Order of the Geass someone who could create new contracts, or nearly any faction hoping to gain the same. Worse, it could have been that someone had discovered that he'd been investigating how to combine Exaltations and Geass powers, and wished to thwart his research. Frankly, it made him wish for simpler times.
It was whilst he was reminiscing that he heard a loud thump come from just outside, as though something particularly sizeable had just landed. Perhaps his recently-arrived younger sister had grown tired of waiting for a minder to be arranged to guide her around the city, and had thrown something out the window in frustration? Suzaku had just stepped outside, so hopefully he'd been fortunate enough to catch whatever it was. Presumably, someone would tell him if it were anything important.
Clovis raised his hand as the soldier neared the door.
"Halt. I have another question for you. I am curious…as to whether you play chess."
Suzaku paused in surprise.
"No, my Lord. I played when I was younger, but nobody has asked me to play it in years. I always lost anyway."
Clovis acknowledged his answer with a wave and a wan smile. It was only once the other man's back was turned that his expression became pensive.
"I understand exactly what you mean, Lieutenant Kururugi."
Author's Notes: The existence of multiple supernatural factions makes the possibilities for Britannian Intrigue really exciting. There was already competition between the Emperor's children, but now we've got Dragonbloods, Geass-users, Sidereals, and any of them can be attached to any Britannian faction with any agenda you care to name. All things considered, the Purists might well unknowingly act as a cover for the sidereals, like the Immaculate Eye in regular Exalted. That'd certainly make Lelouch's actions amusing.
Also, there are those who might recall that Clovis and Lelouch were somewhat close when younger. With all that time to stew with Clovis as Viceroy, Lelouch likely viewed him as the face of the family that had betrayed him, but it's worth remembering that Clovis' first reaction to realising Lelouch was alive was to offer to return him to the Imperial Family. It might have been an act to save his skin, but there are actually fair odds that unlike Lelouch, Clovis may have had warm feelings still in his heart. There's even some fan theories that he took the position of Viceroy in spite of his incompetence because he hoped to find Lelouch and Nunnally still alive.
Anyway, I felt this situation left it suitably ambiguous as to how much Suzaku believes about what's going on, and as to whether he'll end up eventually confiding in Clovis that Lelouch and Nunnally are alive. Letting Clovis live past the second episode will have many consquences, some good, some bad, some very much dependent on what we make of them.
Also, if I can find the time amongst everything else, I'll totally write a TED-Patroned Britannian Intrigue specialist. There's so much fun to be had.
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Disturbing Visage (GSP Wilbur Whateley by Walker of the Yellow Path)
"AAAH!" The man screams, as an inhuman and strangely jointed limb touched his head. He tried to move, but he can't, tied as he is to the branch.
The grey limb cups his cheek. "Quiet. Screaming will not help you."
The man quiets, as he stares at the owner. A strange exoskeleton fleshy lattice encloses the head, from which peeks out a multitude of strange eyes. The head lay on a body of grey flesh with strange joints, with too thin arms and legs, and it walked strangely, hunched over and part using its hands as legs.
As he watched, a white light beamed from one of the eyes, and enveloped a syringe on a table. The syringe levitated over to the man, and stuck into the artery. "This shouldn't hurt at all."
Everything began to fade as he felt a small amount of pressure on his forehead.
----
So how about are you going to alter this one?
Whateley looked at his newest test subject, as he began to drill into the skull, and separate the upper half from the lower. "I'll find where loyalty becomes a factor. He's a soldier, so it should be something often used. If I can just swap around who he's loyal to, then he'll be rather useful to me."
You should put at least a little bit of fear in that. It helps reinforce the loyalty, and give a reason for it.
"Of course." Whateley says. "Now... Any preference on music while I work?"
Natural Science?
"Never figured you'd be a Rush fan."
It's good music.
"I'm not disagreeing with you." With a thought, a white light hits the record player in the corner. A song is chosen, and music begins to play, as Wilbur Whateley gets to work.
"Hmmm..." Wilbur looks at the tray of empty syringes and chemical bottles. "I'm running out of materials."
I did tell you of the solution to that.
"The... Marshall, right? Zero?"
Yeah.
"Are you sure he'd accept the research I'm doing? If he's the same Zero associated with the Black Knights, they did just take down a noble for illegal experimentation."
Look at it like this: It's okay to do that stuff if they're on our side. If they're on the enemy's side.... And besides! Killing you would make the Unquestionables in Malfeas annoyed. You're a Peer, a valuable resource. He can't just kill another Peer because of conflicting morals.
Whateley looks down at his Anima granted form. "I'll have to become human to get across the sea, won't I."
Eh, probably. Sorry, but you know how humans react to monster looking people.
"Yes yes, fear being the natural response." He focused, and beautiful grey arms and head make way for the drab an unattractive pale arms of a British man. "I hate this form."
He shudders, and squares his shoulders. "Let's get this over with."
----
Name: Wilbur Whateley
Caste: Defiler
Concept: Amygdala
Motivation: Become Omniscient
Urge: Create an empire of brainwashed drones (Pyrian)
Anima: A swarm of lamprey like creatures swimming through a green sea filled with crystal orbs.
A Researcher for the EU, Whateley worked on experimental essence based technologies, specifically focusing on devices to control minds. His backers were politicians and military who desired it for various reason (there is a lot you can do with Mind Control). However, as he began to learn more and more, and his experiments evolved from using rats to using human test subjects, his backers began to get nervous. They needed the technology before the number of disappearances became noticeable, and the public eye looked towards them. They became even more nervous when an inquisitive intern found notes and journals he had kept discussing the merits of using one of his more twitchy backers as a 'in the field' test subject.
So he was thrown out onto the streets, no references, no one who would associate with him.
In any other world, he would have joined a criminal organization, and made a living creating drugs based off the principles he discovered in his previous occupation, whilst working on his own mind control experiments.
In this world, however, he was approached by a strange Gallmau, bearing the gift of Exaltation. He readily accepted the power it offered, and now continues his research in secret, testing the limits of his new powers, and debating the practicality of fear based control as compared to technology based control with his Coadjucator.
He has also found a strange enjoyment in the alternate forms provided by his anima banner, especially the extra arms and tentacles it can give him. It is comfortable to him, and he often finds himself keeping it after his banner has died down. Were it not for the fact that he has to deal with humans, he would keep the form permanently.
Attributes
Strength: 2
Dexterity: 5
Stamina: 2
Charisma: 1
Manipulation: 5
Appearance: 1
Perception: 4
Intelligence: 4
Wits: 3
Abilities
Dawn Caste -
Archery:
Martial Arts:
Melee:
Thrown:
-War: 2
Zenith Caste -
-Integrity: 3
Performance:
-Presence: 3 (Instilling Fear +2)
Resistance:
Survival:
Advantages
Backgrounds -
Backing 1 (She Who Lives Within Her Name)
Cult 1 (Yozi)
Influence 1 (Pyrian demons)
Coadjucator 5 (Gorama, Gallmau slave lord)
-Granted Specialties (Presence (Instilling
Fear +2), Bureaucracy (Bargaining +1)
-Granted Intimacy: Fear of Flames
-Special Act of Villainy: Creating Children of his blood, whether naturally or unnaturally.
Followers 2 (Mind Broken Slaves)
Charms - Cost
Malfean
By Pain Reforged 1hl (No wound penalties from Bashing HLs)
By Rage Recast (Get a pool of Essence X 10 mutations for a library. When anima flares, choose 8 points of the library to manifest.)
Pyrian
Factual Determination Analysis 2m (Tells if a person is telling the truth in a statement)
Analytical Modeling Intuition 5m 1wp (Read your mind)
Essence Dissecting Stare 4m (Sorcerer Sight)
Counter Conceptual Interposition 8m (Perfect Parry)
Mind Hand Manipulation 10m (Telekinesis)
Tool Transcending Constructs (Do telekinetic actions as if you had a workshop.)
Experimental Acceleration Mastery (speed up time to finish action by factor of Essence)
Will Crushing Force (MIND CRUSH)
Mutations from Coadjucator
-Second Row of teeth (Cosmetic)
Miscellany
Virtues -
Compassion: O
Temperance: OOO
Conviction: OOOO
Valor: O
Bonus Points: 18
Willpower to 10
13
Essence to 3
6
Craft (Genesis) to 3
3
Craft (Fire) to 3
0
By Rage Recast Mutations (30 pts)
Skin Color (Cosmetic)
Hyper Awareness (2 points)
Accelerated Healing (2 points)
Disturbing (3 points)
Enhanced Eyes (3 points)
Glider (3 points)
An Arm (3 points)
Another Arm (3 points)
Yet Another Arm (3 points)
Arms for the Arm Lord (3 points)
Wall Crawler (5 points)
Gorama, Gallmau Slaver King
Motivation: To create more of its kind.
Attributes: Strength 4, Dexterity 4, Stamina 4; Charisma 1, Manipulation 3, Appearance 0; Perception 2, Intelligence 2, Wits 4
Virtues: Compassion 1, Conviction 4, Temperance 2, Valor 3
Abilities: Athletics 3, Bureaucracy 2 (Bargaining +2), Awareness 2 (Traitors to his realm +1), Dodge 3, Integrity 2, Investigation 3 (Underground +3), Larceny 3, Linguistics 1, Martial Arts 3, Occult 2, Presence 4 (Instilling Fear +2), Performance 1, Resistance 4, Stealth 5, Survival 3 (Underground +3)
Backgrounds:
Followers 3 (The slaves who toil under him, forever in fear of the darkness outside his kingdoms borders)
Resources 3 (Money from the mines his slaves mine)
Charms:
Call—Communicates with others of its kind
Harrow the Mind—Persuades a victim that it is leading her along the route she desires
Landscape Travel—Add one die to Dexterity in constricted tunnels
Materialize—Costs 45 motes
Measure the Wind—Tastes the Essence upon the air with its tongue
Stoke the Flame—Instills fear of the dark
Touch of Saturn—A gallmau's bite inflicts rabies (see Exalted, p. 353)
Tracking—Marks those it strikes
Paper Tiger Arrangement— Covers the borders of Gorama's domain in shadow
First (Ability) Excellency— Resistance, Stealth
Second (Ability) Excellency—Survival, Presence
Third (Ability) Excellency—Investigation
Join Battle: 6
Attacks:
Bite: Speed 5, Accuracy 8, Damage 4L (+ rabies if using Touch of Saturn), Parry DV —, Rate 1
Claw: Speed 5, Accuracy 8, Damage 4L, Parry DV 5, Rate 3
Clinch: Speed 6, Accuracy 8, Damage 4B, Parry DV —, Rate 1, Tags P
Soak: 5L/9B (Scaly hide, 3L/5B)
Health Levels: -0/-1/-1/-1/-1/-2/-2/-2/-2/-4/Incap Dodge DV: 5 Willpower: 7
Essence: 3 Essence Pool: 65/65
Other Notes: Flames deal aggravated damage to a gallmau, which it cannot soak. Treat the immature spawn of the gallmau as a coral snake (see Exalted, p. 347) whose bite carries rabies rather than inflicting poison.
This guy is basically a reference to Lovecraft inspired works, specifically Bloodborne.
His Followers rating is a mix of those he's broken with Will Crushing Force, and those he's 'altered' the brains of to be loyal. Their not very useful for much else but brute force, but he's the one who has to do the thinking anyways, so it's good.
A Crow's Flight Through the Wyld (GSP Morrigan Darrow by forginblade)
First and foremost, happy new years to everybody. I think it is about time for me to finish of my Infernal Exalted spread with the one caste that I haven't used thus far: the Fiend (and given how few spots are left for that, it is probably a good idea to post this now rather than in two weeks). Just like with Ithuriel, I have been discussing this character with @Alexander89 and even had him check the below omake to make sure that it is all in order. So enjoy.
A Crow's Flight Through the Wyld
"If anyone of you can ask me a question which I don't know or cannot answer, then you're worthy enough to go to Heaven; if not, then you'll come with me to Hell."
"Wrong, it's from my asshole."
"Damnit, Mor, stop giving away the punch lines to all of my jokes."
"Maybe I wouldn't know the punchline if you hadn't told that exact joke the day before last, or last week, which itself was a retelling from three months ago, right during that little clusterfuck at Craven's Frost Palace. Your jokes are not only lacking in quality, Gregory, but your repertoire is limited and you lack any sense of comedic timing."
"I'll have you know that my comedic timing is superb. Or have you forgotten, miss eidetic memory, how my joke about the Frenchman, the Brittanian and the eunuch gave us all the opportunity to trap that gang of Wyld-mutated bandits into their own pitfall just two weeks ago."
"You and I remember that event far differently."
"Greg, Mor, tone it down would you? It's not as if we don't have more important things to worry about." Liam, the self-appointed leader of their little band of mercenaries wasn't exactly wrong to snark back. Australia was already known as one of the most dangerous places to live based purely on its fauna and flora, what would the world at large think if it was aware of the wyld? That there are places in the world in which staying for long enough gives you eye-stalks or fully functional, human sized praying mantis heads growing from the side of your neck? That the natural inhabitants of that formless place of madness find human emotions a delicacy and their souls feasts worthy of kings?
Two days ago the group had been hired to track a certain human trafficking group, who did business with one of the most powerful local raksha courts. It seemed that they were rather well-connected on this side of reality as well, hence why they've managed to avoid any official scrutiny for as long as they had.
The band of slavers were appointed to 'deliver' a new load today and so Liam's mercenary group was hot on their trail in the Middlemarches.
"Why are you taking her side, Liam? We all know you've got the hots for her, but that doesn't mean you can just toy with my maiden heart there." Gregory actually had the gall to give Liam the pouty face as he said that, somehow making his eyes look bigger through his glasses.
Liam's face reddened significantly, although nobody was quite sure whether that was out of embarrassment or anger, but before he could the fourth member of their mercenary squad piped up. "Now Gregory, there is no need to put Liam's romantic aspirations so in the spotlight. Otherwise he would feel obligated to have another 'brainstorm session' with Morrigan on ways to further improve the Bangle."
Rebecca was usually more reserved than that, but every one of the mercenaries knew of her fondness of the so called shipping and Liam and Morrigan were two of her favorite 'targets'.
"Aw, that's no fair. Hey Liam, what's Mor got that I don't, aside from a sweet rack? It's the necromancer thing, isn't it? Hey Mor, I want a skull-topped staff and the ominous purple robes of DOOOOMM. Where did you get yours?" For just a second everybody was silent and looked at the Scottish necromancer, waiting to see what her response would be. Usually, when asked about her past the woman would either become temporarily mute or deal out a swift beating to the foolish one. The only visible sign of hers that she had heard Gregory was a deliberately slow glance down at her attire and her hands, which showed a distinct lack of purple, robes or skull staves.
"You get those free of charge at the souvenir shop right next to the Mouth of the Void in Stygia, although you do have to camp out right at the border for half your childhood to be eligible for that. And I'm afraid I used mine to prevent a world-ending threat back in the Highlands. You know, the classic 'unknowing fool with one hand replaced for a gardening tool invokes the powers of the Broken Winged Crane of the Neverborn, unleashes a horde of zombies with assorted necrotech onto the world and then forgets the spell to undo that.' My glorious robe was sacrificed to appease the fickle, yet glorious pantheon of grape juice and my beloved Yorrick was shattered when it finally caved in the dripping skull of the Behemoth 'Mount Mostath'. Its sacrifice will never be forgotten."
The other three just stopped and stared blankly at Mor, not quite sure whether to take her deadpan 'confession' as serious or ludicrous. Eventually it was Gregory that broke the silence, not with a laugh or an apology, but with a bow whose ripples echoed through the wyld and in the distance shattered into a flock of pink peacocks, their intricate, yet sophisticated dance terminated far too early by the jaw of a turtle the size of a mountain and only the jaw.
"I hereby humbly acknowledge your superiority in all manners of comedic timing, Dame Darrow. Your wit and talent outshine that, even of those who may call the gods their grandsires, well done." And with that, Gregory, grandchild of a middling god of smuggling and forgeries acknowledged his better.
Off to the sides Liam and Rebecca just stared on, the latter not sure whether she wanted to light up that cigarette she had been holding in her hand or save that up for later.
"You know, I've always been told that, as a Dragonblooded, the puny mortals would look up to me and instinctively recognize me as a 'Prince of the Earth', obeying and following me regardless of what I would ask of them. I want to reread the contract that stipulated that, because I am going to demand a refund." Rebecca looked at the Outcaste for a second and barely kept the giggle from becoming mad cackling. It took her almost half a minute to get her mouth back under control at which point she finally noticed that she had everybody's attention. With a grin she stashed the cigarette back in its box.
"Understood, oh glorious and supreme Prince of the Earth, I shall start organizing a raid on the offices of Ryzala at once when we get back. Wouldn't want the second coming of the Dragon of the Earth to feel left out." And with that the four returned back to the task at hand and made their way to the waypoint.
Liam knew what they had been doing. There was no way that they weren't all nervous about going up against the Principality of Weeping Endings, one of the most established and feared Raksha Courts that had been around for nearly the entirety of human history, it was even said that they had been established barely two centuries after the Balorian Crusade and had beaten back at least two recorded (or what passes for Raksha records anyways) Hannya Wyld Storms. Going up against a force like that was far from their idea of a perfect afternoon activity, but they had a strict policy of never quitting an assignment after accepting them and every one of them knew that they would have trouble looking at their reflection in the mirror if they refused.
For once he didn't have the slightest clue how they were going to finish this successfully, but they would probably have to wait until the slavers in all but name were safely escorted outside of the Principalities' territory. An ambush and systematic eradication of the scum was the only way he saw any of them getting back home, alive or otherwise.
It left a bitter aftertaste, the realization that the murder that he was planning was futile, that the Principality would just seduce a new gang into their employ before the month's end and start this disgusting practice like nothing had changed. But his team was more important than some paper bills and if the client disagreed...well, that bridge would be burned once they got there.
Distance was always such a fluid concept in the wyld. One moment you're in a rocky desert, where the sand is gently dribbling upwards into the mustard horizon, the next they were in a barren wasteland, remnants of gossamer visibly decaying and splintering in front of the four.
"Did...did we take a wrong turn or something? This can't be the Principalities' waypoint."
"I don't know Greg, but this looks recent and this change in the local narrative is too drastic to be the product of only the local Raksha's vagaries. Stick close and we'll inspect the place. And no matter what, stay alert. We don't know what is still out there." With the professionalism that would have made a boot camp sergeant blink a tear of pride away, the three followed Liam's orders to the letter.
It took barely ten minutes before the four had found their answer, in the form of five Raksha. Nobles from the looks of it, they looked pristine to the untrained eye, yet to the mercenaries they had clearly only barely escaped permanent eradication.
"Talk." Liam's voice cut through the silence with all the warmth of the North Pole. He didn't put too much stock in the supposed 'ideal' Earth Aspected Dragonblooded, but the one thing he most definitely agreed on was that stability was a thing to strive for and raksha, well, if there was one thing they were not known for, it was stability.
"Well, well, what a most fortuitous encounter. To be preyed upon by a band of Creation-born adventurers right as the court is balancing on the precipice of obliteration. So fortuitous in fact that one would be hardpressed to believe this to be mere coincidence." The most regal of the raksha stood tall and proud, as if he were the king of a fallen Atlantis, rather than a mere middling courtier of the Principality.
"I have no idea what you mean by that. What happened here?" If Liam was a snake, venom would be dripping from his mouth. The way Rebecca's hand was inching towards the grip of her iron sword and Gregory had already taken several shrapnel bombs out of his bandolier and was palming them menacingly (and nervously) made their feelings known to all as well. In fact, Morrigan was the only one to not visibly react to the veiled accusation. All she knew was that there was something she was not seeing, something she could be doing instead.
"Of course you don't. The Principality has fallen, to a coordinated strike by no less than five Hannya's. Unprecedented, inconceivable and yet that is what happened. This waypoint was instantly exposed to the vagaries of Pure Chaos, dozens of powerful and notorious emanations tearing our glorious tale to shreds. Even so we stood our ground and had them pay for each centimeter in precious gossamer. Two entire unshaped completely eradicated, the others fleeing, lessened in so many ways from their supposedly helpless prey."
"Of course it would be a last stand against impossible, never before seen odds. You sure you don't want to somehow work in a princess of a neighboring waypoint, a retired veteran warrior who 'is too old for this shit' and a bright-eyed chosen one who will guide your forlorn nation to greater, never before seen heights? I would include some more stereotypes and boring tropes, but I guess I'm just not all that worldly or learned in teenage power fantasies to continue."
Good god, Gregory, if you burn them any more there won't even be any charcoal left, was what Morrigan wanted to say, yet she felt a block of ice settle in her stomach. She had to speak up, do something. Defuse the situation as she was apparently the only one who wasn't pumping themselves up for a confrontation.
"You dare accuse me of embellishing the tragedy that befell my home, of outright lying to a couple of useless gutter rats that think sprinkling themselves with their own piss is a sign of class?" And that was all the justification they needed. In the blink of an eye Liam's glaive had sprung up from Elsewhere, Rebecca's rapier was now in her hand, its tip pointing unwaveringly at the leader of the rakshas and Gregory's bombs were already airborne. With not even a fraction of a second's delay a trio of iron knives flew to the back courtesy of Morrigan. Two were knocked aside, but the last dug itself deeply in the runt of the litter's foot.
The dirt rose up as an endless stream of snakes the size of horses, carrying on them the decayed remains of supernaturally perfect creatures, the raksha who had fallen in defense of their home. The sky screeched, a thousand different colors coalescing into radiant spears which hung motionlessly up above for what seemed like both a second and an eternity, and then they came crashing down. That was when Gregory's bombs went off.
If they had detonated anywhere inside the boundaries of reality the explosions would have been notable, but nothing impressive, not unlike what one could expect from a powerful grenade or landmine. In the waypoint, where reality was a suggestion, it was not the explosion that mattered. What mattered were the iron nails that were packed in there. Those pieces of metal easily pierced through the forms of the risen defenders and the endless rain of light alike.
Somewhat off to the side Rebecca was carving her way through the simulacra, riding a crab-like boulder of her own.
"Mor, javelin!" Unimpressed by the raksha army, Morrigan let the ghostly essence, stored in her Bangle, seep out into her hands, the raw energy easily taking the form of the weapon requested by Gregory. With a flick of the wrist the weapon twisted through the air until it landed right into Gregory's waiting hands, who wasted no time stabbing the general before him through the belly, cleaving upwards until it had torn through all of the illusionary raksha's chest and skull, the two sides dramatically falling down at opposite ends.
Then Gregory threw the spear. Now Gregory wasn't known for his combat skills, least of all the type that could make him physically tired, but a simple imposition of his will saw the javelin fly higher and further than should be humanely possible, its passage carving a column of non-existence out of everything that dared be in its way.
It took all of the raksha's attention and all of their skill with illusions to fend off the three humans. Had they been in better shape and not consisted of the bottom of the barrel of the Principality's independent forces they would have overwhelmed and overpowered the three a while ago. That lack of experience made itself very clear when Liam, who they should have been most wary of, appeared from behind and stabbed the leader through the back with his glaive. While the other four stared at the Dragonblooded in surprise, the fatally injured raksha instead grabbed onto the shaft of the glaive with all his might, the icy cold spreading through his chest betraying the secret that their foes' weapons held.
"The ore of your blades, this is not from Creation proper." The raksha knew his time was short, the cold of the blade seeping into every gossamer fiber of his body. "This iron comes from the graves of the Neverborn, Labyrinthian iron. You would dare scavenge something so foul and anathema to both you and us and wield it as a weapon, thinking that you still have some moral high ground to look down upon us on? You sickening, blasphemous hypocrite, you cannot even imagine the kind of horror that is intrinsically woven into the very structure of your weapons and the joke that you call your souls. You end one another as callously as we pluck a new mother's sigh of relief from a plain and why aren't you morons making use of this opportunity to surprise attack the Dragon?!" As if awakening from a daydream, one of the raksha flew up in the air, his left arm a wing now like a white dove.
Liam pulled once more on his glaive, yet the raksha held fast onto it so with great reluctance he let go of it and leapt out of the way of the volley of gossamer dove feathers.
He had gotten out of their flight path, he know he had. He had seen the dozen or so feather-like knives dig deep into the ground. The why were flabs of his flesh littered all over and his chest and legs punctured by the blasted things? These were real, there were no feathers on the ground. That was the illusion?
The other three could see their friend and unofficial leader wounded and surrounded by three of the raksha, when they decided to change the battlefield and turn the upturned mass grave into a literal field of fire.
Morrigan at that time couldn't care less of her own precarious situation, she ran towards where her friend and his tormentors were. Even as she felt herself falling into the endless blaze that had once been solid ground and could smell her flesh cooking, she ignored the illusion and all but swam forward. She saw Gregory and Rebecca approach as well, but for some reason they were closing in on her rather than Liam.
A crocodile bit her leg off, right above the knee. For a moment Morrigan thought that that was just another illusion, but she was intimately familiar with sudden crippling strikes and rapid exsanguination. She had been forced to live within spitting distance of the Mouth of the Void for seven years, her every moment fighting against its pull, like a carp swimming up a waterfall. No wyld illusion or raksha shaping attack could replicate that feeling to such an extent.
Liam had only killed one of them. So if three were ganging up on him that left one unaccounted for, like a certain somebody who might feel some grief over being stabbed in the foot.
The pain was an old companion to Morrigan, its sudden arrival did not prevent her from shaping another trio of Labyrinthian iron knives in her hands and launching them at her assaulter. And now the crocodile raksha was down an eye.
Her teammates had arrived and, after a quick sign that she would be fine, they pounced on the raksha without a shred of hesitation or mercy.
The one lesson Rebecca had made the younger woman remember by heart was that, to the strong-willed and mystically inclined, the wyld was as reality-bending and body twisting as they allowed it to be, to an extent. That a sea of flames could be crossed as if it were a plain like any other or like a soothing sea.
So she let the flames scorch her flesh. For a moment she was actually freefalling into the hellish abyss that was formed from one of the raksha's shaping attacks. The moment she was no longer in any danger from further bloodloss, she returned back to the overbearingly scalding sea with an even greater force of will. She didn't know how long she had been under, so she could only hope that the other two were having better luck.
It took far more effort than she liked to admit to swim back up with only one leg and second degree burn wounds all over her body.
For a moment, her heart stopped. A shadow floated down, broken, mangled. It could be one of the raksha, her fellow mercenaries were certainly vicious enough to inflict a fate like that upon any raksha they encountered.
"Greg." Saying that one name scorched her tongue something fierce yet she didn't care. She tried to reach out and grab the lifeless body of Gregory, yet right before she could it disappeared into an egg, from which sprang forth a winged key which swam away like a fish out in the open sea.
She knew what she would discover on the surface. The only thing left to discover was to see how many of the fuckers were left.
A tentacle with a pincer as its tip took that decision from her and dragged her up.
There were still three of them. Rebecca's corpse was a bit further, a red piece of meat rammed into her mouth. Liam's heart most likely was all that went through Morrigan's mind. Her hand was still clutched tightly around her rapier, but the hand was now in the grip of the most human-looking of the raksha.
Their laughter was like the crashing of a glass chandelier and with a cruel smirk, the humanoid stabbed her in the thigh of her severed leg.
The pain meant nothing to her. If she was going to die here she would take as many of them with her. The sword was blackened, cracked, the tip gone. That didn't stop her from tearing it from the raksha's grip, Rebecca's hand disappearing into the sea's fiery depths. And then plunged the sword's hilt into the stump of her leg.
The pain was nothing unfamiliar to her, yet still she was grateful that Rebecca had never really used a handguard on any of her swords.
In a single, swift move her legs flew backwards, spinning her body out of the tentacled raksha's grip and driving the Labyrinthian iron sword deep into its flesh.
The other two, shocked at what they were seeing, subconsciously backed off as well, damning themselves by giving the necromancer the space she needed.
Anybody normal in her situation would have long passed out from the pain. Those that could somehow withstand the pain enough to act would still be helpless, for finding yourself without a knee joint and a new leg that was both fragile enough to splinter mid-step and loose enough for the handle inside their upper leg to twist and turn as it pleased was worse than being without that leg. Not even a lifetime spent getting accustomed to such a replacement limb could give a normal person the most basic of functions back.
Morrigan Darrow was not a normal person.
With grace reminiscent of a drunk antelope she leapt at the humanoid raksha, knocking him over and pushing his head into the flames. Morrigan buried the leg-sword inside its stomach. Again and again and again.
From the Bangle she drew forth a hatchet, dragged the twitching face back up to the surface and smashed it into its head, splitting it apart like an overripe melon. The flame sea disappeared along with it. She formed another hatchet and slammed it into the unresponsive body once again.
A boulder crashed against her back, breaking her spine with an audible snap.
The final raksha carefully approached the heavily injured woman.
Pristine bone reveals the inner beauty of all.
He had observed her and knew that she wasn't drawing from her own essence pool when forming those weapons, which meant that even under these circumstances she was still dangerous.
Flesh sanctified in the name of the Neverborn, their hallowed halls of decay and stasis a testament to eternity.
He was close enough. With a flick of his wrist he formed another boulder, this one big enough to crush her head.
Even the most menial of arts of the Underworld are a death sentence to the living and soulless
Flesh-Sloughing Wave
The raksha had no time to flee or scream. It only had just long enough to recognize the pulse of Death for what it was and once its boundary passed by it, the raksha had disappeared in a flash of every possible color at once.
With great pain she twisted her body around, so she could at least look at the wyld sky as she died.
She should have...she should have spoken up back then. Calm them down, avoid fighting useless battles. She had never been the type to seek the peaceful path, yet had she done so her team would still be alive, maybe they could have even made friendly connections with the raksha survivors. That sure beat out dying.
"Would you want to be my friend?" She could see him perfectly. A young boy, couldn't be a day over twelve, looked at her with a big smile, even as his clothes wouldn't have looked out of place on a vagrant and his hair was likely to have its own fungal colony prospering right on his scalp, given how well-cared it looked.
"Friend, friend." He was bouncing around, coming closer with each hop. His face and smile were the very picture of angelic innocence, yet there was something about his eyes that unsettled Morrigan. Those eyes reminded her too much of her father and the other die-hard members of the Neverborn cult she had belonged to. A fanatical madness that no sane human being should ever display.
What insane raksha would want to play that kind of game with her?
"Be the Shadow's friend already." And he stomped his tiny foot on the ground. And then Morrigan finally recognized the being before her for what it was.
"A Bisclavaret, really? All the way into the Middlemarches? Even if the Yozi could save me, I would not exactly make for a good Akuma the way I am now and since when have you demons ever approached us? It's usually the other way around." She might be dying and she was face to face with a demon well-known for its umbravoric nature, but that was no reason to jump into the first remotely attractive deal she was offered. There was no internal bleeding, so even with the broken spine and the many second-degree burn wounds it would take her a couple of hours to really die. Plenty of time to prod the animalistic demon for all it knew before making a decision.
"Akuma are not friends, akuma are stuuuupid. Friend of Orga no akuma, friend of Orga Peer of Malfeas."
Now wasn't that interesting? To be propelled to a level exclusive to the Second Circle Demons, above even the established First Circle Demons, who would need centuries to even get to be a citizen instead of exploitable wildlife? Very tempting.
"And what would I need to do in return for such a generous offer?"
"Lady Erembour said that friend has to help with Reclamation." Thank you Orga, for that non-answer. Actually, that was not quite true. If Erembour is involved, that made the whole thing both legitimate and far more dangerous. "Orga give power resting inside, made by Ebon Shadow to friend for Reclamation." Power crafted by the Shadow of all things on top of a Malfean peerage? There was only one thing that could be worth it and helping the Yozi escape their self-made hell sounded like the kind of thing that becoming an anathema for would be worth it.
Oh, who was she kidding? Not dying here and now and the return of her leg and walking ability was more than enough for her already.
"Sure I want to be your friend, Orga."
The boy smiled. His skin and decaying clothes melted away leaving the lightly muzzled darkness behind in all its non-existent glory.
The demon opened its mouth and, with a giggle that sounded far too similar to that of the raksha, swallowed her whole.
All hail her new Yozi overlords or something like that.
Name: Morrigan Darrow
Concept: Supernatural mercenary with a dark past
Caste: Fiend
Patron Yozi: Ebon Dragon
Anima Banner: A tank-sized crow-like shadow, sucking in all manner of light and energy from its surroundings.
Motivation: Be considered the apex predator to both shaped and unshaped raksha by all the denizens of the Wyld
Urge: Have the (Dragonblooded) Brittanian nobility replace their veneration for the Elemental Dragons for that of the Primordial ones without consciously being aware of it (Ebon Dragon first and foremost, but Oramus and dragon-shaped Third circle Demons are other possible candidates). (Ophidian)
Torment: When an Infernal with an Ophidian Urge accumulates 10 points of Limit, he suffers the Torment of the Ebon Dragon. For one full day, the character loses all moral restraint and becomes consumed by the need to engage in his favorite vices. The effects of this curse are identical to the full effects of the Overindulgence Virtue Flaw (see Exalted, p. 105).
Worse, the effects of this compulsive debauchery are contagious—anyone who interacts with the Infernal whose Dodge MDV is less than the Infernal's (Essence + primary Virtue) also suffers from the effects of this Torment, as do any individuals who represent Intimacies of the Infernal and of whom the Yozi disapprove regardless of where such an Intimacy might be when the Infernal is punished. Regardless of when a character is affected by this Torment, the effects last for one full day.
The product of the collaboration between a genius mortal necromancer and a talented Dragonblooded artificer-adventurer. Made out of Labyrinthian iron, this matte bracer can shape essence into functional weaponry, not unlike the solar charm 'Spirit Weapons' and is thus unable to shape anything aside from throwing weapons. Weaponry created through this artefact's function last only long enough to be used for a single action, whether that is as an attack, a parry or something else. Any mundane weapon with the Thrown Tag can be created through this effect for a single mote of Essence per weapon, although weapons larger than a hatchet like a war boomerang or a javelin cost two motes to create instead and can appear in either hand. Weaponry of fine quality or higher cannot be created with this artefact.
This effect can be used up to once per tick and the maximum number of weapons that can be formed per activation is equal to the Rate of the formed weapon with the lowest Rate (so if the user wishes to create a hatchet and a needle, she can only create two weapons instead of three). These weapons are treated as if made out of Labyrinthian iron.
Instead of draining the wielder's Essence to create the ghost weapons, it is instead possible to use the crystal formed at the end of the necromancy spell 'Faces of the Dead' like a battery, draining motes from the ghosts inside the crystal. E ach of the trapped ghosts is treated to have (Essencex10) motes and once an Essence pool is exhausted, said spirit is instantly banished into Oblivion. The wielder is constantly aware of how much essence remains inside a crystal. When the crystal has been exhausted (or whenever the wielder wishes to replace the crystal) she holds the new crystal against the Bangle's surface at which point it dissolves into crystal dust and is absorbed into the Bangle, while the crystal dust of the discarded crystal harmlessly floats away. Should the Bangle be targeted by the appropriate countermagic (or if the wielder wishes it) the remaining ghosts inside are instantly freed and fly or run away from the Bangle.
Labyrinthian Iron bonus: Carved off of the walls of the Neverborn's graves, Labyrinthian iron has an additional effect over Creation-mined iron due to the Neverborn's nightmares and impotent rage that it has been exposed to since the end of the Age of Legends. Unlike iron mined in Creation, weapons crafted from Labyrinthian iron drain away the warmth from its victims resulting in the target suffering from a -1 internal penalty for all actions for the next (4-victim's Essence, minimum of 1) actions. For shaped raksha this penalty increases to -2 and is -3 for unshaped raksha, while Abyssal Exalted, Ghostblooded and other denizens of the underworld never suffer this penalty. Exposing the target to weapons made of Labyrinthian iron multiple times does not let the penalties stack, but does reset the timer.
Artefact rank: 3 Attunement cost: 7 motes
Trait from the Unwoven Coadjutor: Starting from sunrise, Morrigan's shadow steadily shrinks throughout the day (=gets devoured by Orga the Bisclavaret Unwoven Coadjutor), until it is gone by sunset. The reverse process happens when it is night (which does mean that if Morrigan is crossing time zones to remain in the night part of the day-night cycle for long enough, she would get a monstrously huge shadow, regardless of illumination).
Intimacies:
Neverborn cult of the highlands (hatred, excitement of eventually clashing with its dozens of necromancers)
Raksha (loathing, overly powerful shapeshifting vermin)
Glasses, cigarettes & crafting (fond remembrances of Gregory, Rebecca and Liam respectively, ways to keep their memory alive)
The Council of Thirteen, the Rulers of Stygia & the Dual Monarchy (Far more worthy of ruling the underworld than the Deathlords)
The Ebon Dragon (reluctant gratitude for its patronage to her)
Cost: 10 pts. Availability: Mortal with awakened Essence, Essence 3+ and Occult 5+
With this Merit, your character has been initiated into necromancy and can learn and cast spells of the First Circle. She can then learn any spells associated with that circle at a cost of 15 experience points (12 if Occult is a Favored Ability) or eight bonus points (six if Occult is Favored) just as if she had learned the appropriate initiation Charm. Any spells cast by the character follow the normal rules for casting actions, and the character must spend a Willpower point in order to cast any spell.
Cost: 7 pts Availability: Mortals only
Through some means—be it years of meditation or exposure to Wyld energies or a dark pact with the Yozis—your character has acquired the power to perceive and manipulate Essence. Your character gains an Essence pool equal to (Essence x 10), all of which is considered Personal Essence. He can spend one-third of his Essence pool freely. To use the rest, he must spend one Willpower point in each scene in which he wishes to access the remainder of his Essence. A character with Awakened Essence can increase his permanent Essence with bonus points or experience. The character regains Essence at the same rate as an Exalt. He can attune to artifacts normally, but he never gains a magical material bonus from artifact weapons or armor. He can also attune to a manse or demesne just like an Exalt.
The four-point version of this Merit duplicates the benefits of the Enlightened Essence blight (see The Compass of Celestial Directions, Vol. II—The Wyld, p. 148).
At the seven-point level, the character can freely access his entire Essence pool without spending Willpower.
Necromancy spells
Cost: 18m
Target: One reflective surface
Reflections look alive but are not alive, and this property gives the surfaces that create them an affinity with the Underworld. Caressing a reflective surface as he casts this spell, the necromancer opens a quicksilver doorway between Creation and the analogous point in the Underworld—or vice versa. Travel between the two is instantaneous, and the passage remains open for the caster's next three actions. Things can come through the other way, too. Once the connection fades, the road closes viciously. Mirrors crack, water boils, and silver tarnishes.
Cost: 16m Target: Caster
Pulling his fingers as if drawing thread, the necromancer spins a shimmering silver line of Essence. It thickens into wire, then rotates into the third dimension to become a silver mace with a perfect, 12-faced head. The weapon is treated as an exceptional mace. Against ghosts and other spirits of the dead, the weapon adds a value equal to the necromancer's Essence to its base damage. Also, when a single blow with the mace inflicts levels of damage equal to or greater than a target's permanent Essence, the mace captures the ghost in one of its faces with a steely blue flash. The ghost then looks out from the face that captured it.
Either after one hour or when the necromancer commands it (whichever comes first), the mace's shaft dissolves into dust and disappears. The silver mace head transmutes into rock crystal, holding all the ghosts absorbed by the mace. It has 12L/12B soak and requires 20 levels of damage to break. Countermagic shatters the crystal. Otherwise, only the caster can release the ghosts without violent means. Ghosts freed from the crystal have empty Essence pools. Faces of the Dead was once a tool of the Celestial Exalted in the First Age, as they first sought to explore and exploit the Underworld. Abyssal Exalted and nephwracks use it today to collect ghosts for various purposes, including raw material for soulsteel.
Cost: 12m Target: One ghost
Strong passions and Fetters enable the dead to resist the sweet call of Lethe, but the Underworld is a dull place. Its winds and parties are tepid, food tastes like dust, and habits are carved into stone. By anointing a willing ghost with five drops of blood, the caster lets a ghost experience the world as he did while alive.
Blood is bright instead of faded pink, and the sobs of the enslaved dead sound joyfully abominable. Foods of the Underworld actually taste of something, and sacrificed foods from the living world are as sweet or savory as if they were fresh from the oven.
Ghostly targets of this spell gain a number of Willpower points equal to the caster's Essence from the experience of the world to which they cling. This boon can take a ghost above his maximum Willpower. Both the enhanced senses and any Willpower above the maximum fade after one day.
Ghosts of moderate means might beggar themselves to purchase an invocation of this spell, and necromancers who know it have a powerful bargaining chip. Using this spell on ghosts makes them thankful… and pliable.
Targets of this spell cut their MDVs in half with regard to the caster for a full week unless they spend two points of Willpower to resist the inclination the first time the caster makes a social attack. For ghosts who have experienced this spell in the past, holding Five Gifts over their heads during negotiation results in the same sway, unless they pay the same two Willpower points to clear their heads.
Cost: 16m Target: Area
Although Flesh-Sloughing Wave was designed as a utility spell for cleaning the rotted meat from bones for constructing temples or war machines for the Deathlords, the spell can be lethal in the world of the living. The caster shapes an ivory ball of Essence in her hands, then hurls it to the ground. It shatters there and releases a translucent ivory wave out to a range of (Essence x 5) yards. As the dome expands, it washes flesh away from the bones it passes. Flesh from any corpse is torn away, as is any dead flesh on a living creature. The living suffer a brief moment of pain as the wave tries to peel away their skin, muscle and fat from the bones beneath.
Living creatures caught in the radius of the spell, excepting the caster, suffer ([Essence + Occult] x 2) dice of lethal damage. This effect can be dodged, but not parried. Fair Folk caught within this blast suffer double damage before soak, and those killed by the spell die in a rainbow flash as their thin veneer of order is torn away.
Cost: 10m or 20m Target: Caster, or nearby Shadowlands Circle necromancy spell
The necromancer's quick gesture trails blackness behind it like a shredded banner and wraps her in its darkness. The chill upon her flesh lasts until her next action. Until then, Shadowlands Circle spells targeted against her freeze and crack, falling in bleeding pieces at her feet—but the cold penetrates to her core, imposing a -2 internal penalty upon all physical actions until the countermagic fades on her next action. Alternatively, the necromancer may project the darkness outward, using the spell to disrupt any Shadowlands Circle spell that is currently in progress within a number of feet equal to (her Essence x 50).
This spell has special timing rules. The character can cast it as a reflexive Shape Shadowlands Circle Necromancy action that takes 0 ticks. It follows all of the other rules for necromancy actions, and the character must take a Cast Necromancy action as her next normal action. Countermagic cannot banish ghosts, though it can destroy other current necromantic effects. Some spells can be countered after casting, if so noted in a spell's description.
Charms:
General
First (Yozi) Excellency: The Ebon Dragon, Hegra
Second (Yozi) Excellency: The Ebon Dragon (Shadow Spite Curse), Hegra
(Yozi) Mythos Exultant: The Ebon Dragon, Hegra
(Yozi) Inevitability Technique: The Ebon Dragon, Hegra
Turns out there was a single Fiend slot left! Yay!
========
Maiko looked down at the fans she held, the only things that remained of her mother. How many years ago was it when her mother's shrine was destroyed? Britannia had invaded Japan when she was only a child, and the brief war had ravaged the nation. Her mother had chosen to flee along with Maiko, calling in every favor she could in order to get them safely to Yu-Shan.
Life there had been as life was anywhere - there was good and there was bad. Another Japanese god who had not fallen quite so far had been kind enough to give them shelter, but they had been expected to work. Many of the gods of Japan had fallen on hard times as the allies of Britannia sought to replace them with those they favored, so Maiko and her mother were oft treated as outcasts. Even so, Maiko could not complain. She had food, shelter, and her mother's loving affection. It was enough.
For years her mother trained her in the Black River, Silver Lotus style of fan dancing, of which she was the patron goddess. It had not been a well known style outside of the small town from which they hailed, but Maiko loved it dearly and wished to master it. She had felt that she was born for that purpose, even though her mother said Maiko was free to do as she pleased with her life. Maiko treasured the years of her mother teaching her.
Even so, those years were marred with a deep sorrow. Her mother had hidden it well, but Mako noticed. Her mother was gradually becoming weaker. She was being forgotten. The Black River, Silver Lotus style itself was being forgotten. Where the people of her old village dying, or had they simply moved on to other things? She didn't know, and it didn't matter. Either way, her mother was slowly fading away. Without a purpose, she would cease to be.
Maiko had known that she would have to find work somewhere, see if she could ingratiate herself to a god who had enough pull to get her mother a new position. Their current host was losing influence as well, and they could not stay much longer. So she had tried what she could. She used all her skills at dancing to try to impress various gods, goddesses, elementals, and even Dragonblooded, anyone who might be able to help. But none had. She knew her skills were great, but nobody wanted to hire a dancer who specialized in Japanese fan dancing, much less a style as obscure as hers, when Japan itself had apparently lost its name. She was an outcast, and nobody had wanted her.
Then one day she had come home to find nothing more than a note from her and a pair of fans. Maiko's beloved parent had decided become the small god of these two fans, living inside them with no real power to act upon the world instead of fading away entirely. Her mother had wished her well, and bequeathed the fans to her so that she may watch over Maiko as she danced.
Jobless, and unable to do anything to help her host, Maiko quietly left Yu-Shan for Creation. She did not know where she was. She had simply wandered way from the exit and continued on until she was tired and decided she needed rest.
"What do I do now?" She pondered aloud. Maiko did not even know where she was. Even here in Creation she was uncertain anyone would hire her. Not for her skill at dancing, anyways. She could sell herself... no. She would rather starve. She had offers while in Yu-Shan, but she would sadden her mother by doing such a thing. It would be better to starve than to sell her body.
Her thoughts turned to Britannia and the gods of Yu-Shan. Their callousness was responsible for her mother's fate, as well as her current state. Did she hate them? She carefully thought about it, and she did not. She held no love for them either, or at least those who had not been kind, which was most. The thought of causing anyone harm had always been vile to her, though she knew she didn't care what happened to them. She only wanted her mother back.
"Hello!" a cheery voice came out of nowhere. Maiko looked around, but found nothing. Was she hearing things? "Oh, right, you can't see this one. Sorry about that. It can't really be helped. There aren't any reflective surfaces here in the middle of the woods."
The dialect of Old Realm was unfamiliar, but this was likely some kind of spirit. Perhaps this spirit would give her work? Or at least a place to stay for the night. "Greetings, noble spirit. I am Maiko Kurokawa, heir of the Black River, Silver Lotus style of dance. To whom do I have the honor of speaking with?"
"Oh! Uyin is the one who is honored. Uyin am a noresore, or just a passion moray if you prefer! This one is no noble spirit, just a demon."
A demon? Her mother had warned her of demons. Tricky things that might try to do her harm. She would need to be careful, especially considering she couldn't see this one. "I see. What is it you wish from me, Uyin?"
"Uyin is here to make you an offer! The Yozis want out of their prison, and you could help! Oh yes, you could! If you agree, Uyin can give you an Exaltation! Truly the best kind, too!"
Maiko's face had been neutral until now, but her eyebrows raised exactly one quarter of a centimeter in surprise at hearing this. An Exaltation was no small thing. And if this was the best kind, it would be one of the legendary Celestial Exaltations. It would make her Anathema, but she would have power beyond that of the Dragonblooded. Power that could exceed even the Incarnae, in time. With that kind of power, she could do nearly anything.
Maiko looked down at the fans she held, and reached a decision. "I agree to your terms."
========
Maiko was surrounded by a darkness beyond any she had ever conceived. It was the shadow of everything. It was her shadow. In it she felt beings of shadow and darkness moving and dancing to a doleful song played by a distant horn.
Then she suddenly found herself standing in a city that was so unlike Yu-Shan. A city of brass and basalt. The windows in the buildings lit up with green fire, and she knew that they were eyes and that they were watching her. There was an unspoken command there. Maiko obeyed and began to dance, doing her absolute best to please the city she understood to be her patron.
As he watched and became entranced by the flowing, graceful movements the Demon City forgot his troubles and hatreds for a brief but palpable moment and was content.
Name: Maiko Kurokawa
Gender: Female
Age: 16
Caste: Fiend
Patron Yozi: Malfeas
Motivation: To make the Black River, Silver Lotus dance style famous and restore her mother's position as its patron goddess.
Urge: Destroy Britannia's stranglehold on popular culture. (Malfean)
Anima Banner: Silver lotuses floating on a black river.
*Coadjutor Act of Villainy: Bask in the passionate adoration of her fans and worshipers while dancing.
**Golden Dance Fans: These fans contain the goddess Maihime, who was once the goddess of the Black River, Silver Lotus style of fan dancing. These artifacts provide two additional dice on dance actions and add one to the character's parry DVs when using the fans as weapons. These fans may not be wielded by anyone but Maiko so long as she lives, as the small god enforces Maiko's metaphysical ownership of the fans far beyond the norm. Speed: 5, Accuracy: +2, Damge: +1L, Defense: +2, Rate: 3, Mins: Str 1, Dex 2, Martial Arts 1, Attune: 3, Tags: M
Charms
Malfeas
First Malfeas Excellency, Second Malfeas Excellency, Malfeas Inevitability Technique, Malfeas World-Shaping Cosmogony
Malfeas Mythos Exultant
Beauty Without Malice
Steel And Asphalt Dance
By Pain Reforged
Nightmare Fugue Vigilance
Hell-Soothing Reprieve
Ebon Dragon
First Ebon Dragon Excellency, Ebon Dragon Inevitability Technique, Ebon Dragon World-Shaping Cosmogony
Ebon Dragon Mythos Exultant
Loom-Snarling Deception
Witness to Darkness
My Dark Lady
Moral Chains Cast Off
Radiance Devouring Elegance
I decided to make a Defiler. One for the good old Ebon Dragon!
=====
Cairo, Egypt
Akhekh was only half paying attention to the jackass he was haggling with. The fucker thought just because he was a Britannian soldier and that Akhekh was one of the local conquered people who'd yet to be given a number to replace their ethnic identity that he could gouge him. Didn't matter though. Akhekh may have been disguised as a humble street merchant selling all kinds of herbal remedies and whatnot laid out on a sheet, but he'd have the last laugh.
Normally he'd ensure he got every last bit of money he could from such a mark, but he needed to concentrate on his targets right now. As such, he just agreed to the arrogant fuck's latest offer and exchanged goods for cash. Damn shame he couldn't completely fleece the gullible fuck completely, but given the supposed "wonder aphrodisiac" he was selling the idiot would actually leave him limp for months Akhekh would just have to be satisfied with the amusement he'd get from it.
What he was really paying attention to was the three nobles in the cafe across from him. Assholes were acting like they owned the place. Sure, they'd conquered the city, so maybe they did, but it still irked Akhekh to no end. The server he'd bribed was pouring them the tea they'd ordered, and then discreetly moved to the back of the shop, no doubt to run like fucking hell. The man would lose his job and be wanted, but Akhekh had given him enough money to make a new life and the contacts to get him and his family the hell out of the country, so it was all good. Akhekh had made a good reputation for himself as being reliable, so the man was more than willing to agree to his terms. Not many wanted to stick around and suffer under Britannia's oppression, even if news was that the war in the region was turning against them.
"Akhekh, I have a question."
"Sure, what's up?" he thought to his little passenger as he was discreetly watching the nobles drink their tea.
"Why do you call yourself Akhekh? I know it's not your given name, but you think of yourself as such. In the mythology of your country, doesn't that name refer to a great Serpent of Evil. Why think of yourself that way?"
Well, it wasn't something he liked to talk about, but his Coadjutor was someone he'd be very close with for a long time, so he supposed the little guy would find out sooner or later anyways. "Well, mainly it's because I sell drugs."
"I don't follow."
"Drugs aren't exactly a good thing, you know? My own family was ruined by opium, about ten years back. I ran away after my older brother overdosed. He was alright, but my deadbeat parents had changed after getting addicted. The environment was too toxic, so I got out of there. Before that, we were a happy family."
"Well then why would you sell drugs? I'd think you'd hate them."
"Why not?" Akhekh answered, shrugging mentally. "There are always people who want to get high. It's a good way to make money. Plus something about watching people destroy themselves fascinates some twisted part of me. I wanted to understand that, so I got into the business and learned everything I could. I guess I've got my own goal in mind too, but that's probably not happening for a while."
"Huh... well, I guess that's why he wanted you. Oh! It looks like the drug is taking effect."
It was. The three nobles were all having reactions. The one the demons had identified as a Fire Aspect who was some kind of low ranking general or something was having a particularly pronounced one, spasming on the floor as his Anima activated and burned the surrounding area. The Air Aspect's reaction was interesting, as she started proclaiming her undying love for the teacup she was holding. The Wood Aspect was the only failure in the bunch, but that was expected. He had activated his anima and became immune to the effects. The drug was mainly plant based, so the toxins weren't really have an effect.
Feigning concern just like everyone else on the street, he watched as the Fire Aspect eventually died from the drug's effects.
"Hmmm... the man died but the woman seems fine, even if she's high as a kite. I wonder what the difference between them are? Probably isn't gender... can't be sure though. Maybe it's a difference in their Essence due to being different aspects? I'll have to sneak into the morgue and get the autopsy report. I still haven't quite gotten a handle on these magical ingredients from Malfeas. Good test run for a first attempt, though. I can't wait to get into Hell and see what is on offer."
"A lot of things, I assure you. You'll also want to make a stop at the library of Orabilis - the knowledge to be found there is immense."
"Sweet!" He said as he packed up his wares. "I still have to meet Marshal Zero first though. I better check if the travel arrangements I've made are ready. From everything I've seen on the news and all you've told me, I'm sure it'll be quite fascinating to meet him."
Name: Akhekh
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Caste: Defiler
Patron Yozi: Ebon Dragon
Motivation: Create a drug that is cheap, gives a good high, is non-addictive, and has no negative side-effects.
Urge: Create a drug that is highly addictive to the Dragon Blooded. (Ophidian)
Anima Banner: A cobra with black crystal scales.
Charms
Ebon Dragon
First Ebon Dragon Excellency
Shadow Spite Curse
Cracked Shell Circumvention
Loom-Snarling Deception
Witness to Darkness
Our Little Secret
She Who Lives in Her Name
First She Who Lives in Her Name Excellency
Factual Determination Analysis
Essence-Disecting Stare
Ego Infused Primacy Pattern
Mind-Hand Manipulation
