Green Sun, Black Shadows (CG/Exalted)

The Emerald Strix (GSP Rodrigo Gomez by frozenchicken)
Alright, finally, here is the intro for our Cecelyne-favoured Superhero: The Amazing Emerald Strix!

AN: Alright you know what, this omake was just evil to write. I've scrapped big chunks that I was trying to include and I'm still not satisfied with it. I'd really wanted to build more on how he was inspired by his past life, his interactions with 'Catwoman', and how his charms influence those who call for his aid (The reverence intimacy from 'Temple-Self Apotheosis' always results in him being called 'Amazing'). Regardless, I'll throw down what I've got here and call it done. Maybe I'll get a new perspective after wiping my hands of it.



--------------------



Rodrigo finished lacing his boots and paused before the final portion of his costume. The mask of the Emerald Strix had swept-back wings along a headbrace, in imitation of the headpiece he had worn is his past life. It was a pale shadow of the object that had inspired it, being dense green plastic instead of enchanted golden metal, but he rather liked the symbolism of it. Humble in appearance rather than an extravagant display from an age of glory, and made as cheaply and pragmatically as possible, as befitting....well, someone from a ghetto.


Mask in hand, he glanced out through the window at the surrounding sunset-kissed midrise buildings. The area was technically an affluent one, as a one-time centre for commerce and government, but it had degraded swiftly as everyone with the money to move away did so. There were a lot of reasons touted for it, from the rising rate of nightcrime in this quarter of the city, to a desire by many to avoid being seen as powerful in the wake of the Britannian's most recent act of oppression, but as was often the case, these were mere symptoms of a greater truth. Three years ago, when the Britannians crushed the Britannian-Latino Diplomatic Organisation with accusations of sedition and treason, the following massacre of individuals associated with the body tainted the city in a way not easily visible to the mundane eye. Though the effects mainly displayed as a sense of deterioration and desolation during the day, it was the transition to night that truly showed the horrors such death unleashed-and judging by the feeling in his gut, such a transition was not long away.


As the last rays of the Sun dipped below the horizon, everything happened all at once. Tameral, his Tomescu Coadjutor, began an unendimg screech inside his head and Rodrigo's gut frothed and churned to the same beat. The landscape outside of him twisted even more dramatically, as shadows coated the streets far faster and widely than believable, and the grass outside suddenly wilted. Though nothing about the buildings nearby appeared to physically alter, every building now seemed dilapidated, and every shuddering creak from them now sounded like the wails of the dead and damned.

Excepting of course where those noises actually were the wails of the dead and damned.

As Tameral's screech dropped in volume, Rodrigo gathered essence and channeled them to his legs and a faint green glow developed on the centre of his headpiece. In a move he'd copied from a vision of the original Golden Strix, he jumped out the window and onto the next roof. It was time for the Emerald Strix to take wing.
--------------------


Lola crouched low behind the fence, panting hard and wiping away blood from a spindly claw mark on her cheek.. The night was quiet and free of its' usual haunted wailing-which would have been a relief if she didn't know for a fact that one of the spirits of the night was currently hunting her. She had first felt its' touch a few blocks back, when she was hurrying home after having run overtime at work. It didn't even hurt her at first, simply poking her in the back with a chillingly cold finger and fading out of sight when she span around to face it. Her vague sense of unease quickly escalated as she realised that it being unseen didn't prevent it from following her and her frightened attempts to push it away simply passed through it like mist. The misty figure seemed to enjoy letting her run, though her panic had driven her into a neighbourhood she didn't recognise, shadowy and dilapidated as it seemed.


When the game started to become painful, she decided that it was time to try something more....embarrassing.

"Please, Emerald Strix. I'm being hunted. If...if you really exist, I could really use your help right now."

For a moment she thought she saw a glowing green orb in front of her, but the sound of a loud howl behind her diverted her gaze. Her eyes tracked wildly, seeing no sign of either the mysterious monster hunting her or that half-seen orb but feeling sure that there was more to be observed. Panic gripped her heart and she burst into a run once more-only to freeze as the being materialised in front of her.

For once she finally got a good look at the being. Though misty, it was clearly human-shaped, looking somewhat like a withered hoodlum of indeterminate age. Despite looking like something dead....and possibly being one....the spirit seemed fairly lively.
Slowly, he strolled forwards, gesturing at her.
"What a wonderful game of tag! You're such fun to play with. I know! You can come play with me during the daytime! It'll just take one more tag....and then you can be....IT."

Suddenly, a long, loud noise echoed through the air. It almost sounded like someone yelling from an incoming train. The spirit glanced upwards, his arm stretched out towards her.

"NEEEEEVEEEERRR FEEEEEAAAARRR!" echoed through the air, as a green-glowing man landed on the spirit, his perfect axle kick knocking it to the ground, scattering sand everywhere. "For the Emerald Strix is here!"

Lola watched in awe as the previously untouchable spirit was brought low-literally and repeatedly. The superhero paused with his foot pressing down on the back of the fallen ghost and turned to her.

"Do not take fright at the foes of the night, for their might deserts them in my emerald light!"

Lola stared at the urban legend, taking in his flowing cape, vibrant costume, glowing aura and what appeared to be a holographic owl flaring in the air above him. Before her eyes, the spirit collapsed into nothingness under his feet, leaving only a slight cloud of silvery sands that fell to the ground. Myriad insightful questions came to her mind, but what came out was "Do you practice saying that?"

The hero paused a moment then nodded. "Extensively! I've got a bunch of variations to fit different circumstances whilst keeping the rhyme, including the words plight, blight, flight, height and spite. I tried kite for a while, but it sounded really dorky."

"...Wait, flight? I was pretty sure you just jumped down from that roof there. That's hardly flight."

"I did jump down, but that falls under 'height'. As a matter of fact, someone else needs me now, so I'll show you what 'flight' means. "

The man tensed then leapt impossibly high up in the air. His glow expanded vastly, and his owl totem grasped him in its' talons. The light shone blindingly for a moment, and when it receded he hung in the air above her, flapping on vast feathered wings. Looking down from above, he addressed her one last time.

"Please, tell your friends about the events of this night. I respond to those who call my name, but I cannot protect those who do not desire my aid. Farewell!"


Lola watched the absurd vigilante fly away, off to rescue someone else. She didnt quite know what to make of him. He was so weird, he was so dorky, he was so....AMAZING.

----------------------------------------------------------

On the furthest edge of the Shadowland, a woman with strange tattoos and clawed hands fought a hungry ghost. Nearby, a civilian man cowered in fear, apparently praying for help. Julia scowled in annoyance-why couldn't the idiot have the good sense to run when he got the opportunity? Or at least direct his prayers to the woman actually helping him, where they might do some good. Still, this ghost was fairly weak, so at least the night wasn't so bad...

"YOUR FAITH THIS NIGHT BRINGS THE SHELTER OF MY-OH, Hey Catwoman! Good to see you!"

...Though it could still get worse. With a surge of rage she thrust her rather feline claw into the chest of the ghost before turning to the annoying flashlight floating above her.

"STOP CALLING ME CATWOMAN!"




Name: Rodrigo Gomez
Titles: The Emerald Strix
Concept: An Infernal who, inspired by his past life, becomes a superhero who uses the prayers of his followers in order to protect them.
Caste: Malefactor
Patron: Cecelyne
Favored Yozi: Malfeas
Motivation: Form a heroic organisation that protects the inhabits of his hometown from the dangers of the shadowlands.
Urge: Form a Cult that influences all of Area 5 (Cecelynian)
Essence: 2
Willpower: 5/5
Anima Banner: A swooping Owl, with wings spread wide and talons ready to snatch.

Attributes: Strength 3, Dexterity 5, Stamina 4; Charisma 4, Manipulation 1, Appearance 4; Perception 3, Intelligence 2, Wits 3

Abilities: Martial Arts 4 (Fighting Undead 1), Athletics 2 (Rooftop-Hopping 1), Awareness 2, Dodge 4, Stealth 2, Integrity 2, Presence 2 (Intimidating Criminals 1), Resistance 3, Survival 1, Investigation 2 (Locating Trouble 1), Medicine 1

Backgrounds: Cult (Strix Fans) 3, Backing (Citizen's Militia) 1, Unwoven Coadjutor (Tameral) 1, Past Life (The Golden Strix) 2, Contact (That Lunar who does NOT to like be called 'Catwoman') 1;

*Unwoven Coadjutor is a Tomescu

Traits from Unwoven Coadjutor: If asleep, he always awakens precisely at Dawn and Dusk.

Virtues: Compassion 2, Conviction 2, Temperance 2, Valor 4

FIRST CECELYNE EXCELLENCY

Hellscry Chakra
Cost: 5m
Mins: Essence 2
Type: Simple
Keywords: Combo-OK
Duration: Indefinite
Prerequisite Charms: None

The Infernal opens his caste mark as an imperceptible third eye upon his brow. This spiritual organ perceives the flow of demonic Essence as a garish synesthetic overlay of colors and tastes. While this Charm is active, the Exalt gains the following benefits:
• He perceives dematerialized demons with all senses, recognizing that they are incorporeal.
• He perceives all possessing demons as smoky anima banners enveloping their hosts.
• He adds (Essence) bonus successes on all rolls to notice natives of Malfeas, track them or pierce any disguise attempts. If the target isn't using magic to contest the action, the Infernal may spend one Willpower to automatically succeed.
• Upon recognizing a perceived character as a demon or a Yozi, its nature becomes Obvious to him. The Storyteller provides a basic synopsis of the target's capabilities and Motivations (if any). This power imparts the same information about Infernal relics the Infernal can perceive.
• He automatically recognizes non-demon natives of Malfeas as such upon perceiving them, although he learns nothing else.

Demonic Primacy Of Essence
Cost: —
Mins: Essence 2
Type: Permanent
Keywords: Servitude, Social
Duration: Permanent
Prerequisite Charms: Hellscry Chakra

The law of Cecelyne binds the will of inferiors to their natural masters. Whenever a character with this Charm makes a social attack against a native of Malfeas who has a lower Essence rating, the target suffers an MDV penalty equal to the difference between their Essence ratings, and the attack is considered unnatural mental influence. Attacks enhanced this way cost the usual number of Willpower points to resist. Hierarchy works both ways, however. The Infernal suffers the same penalty against the social attacks of Malfean natives with higher Essence (unless they also have this Charm, in which case the DV penalties for both Charms don't stack), though any natural mental influence remains so. Infernals who also know Wayward Divinity Oversight (see p. 118) apply the MDV reduction to social attacks against gods of lesser Essence, but none of the other benefits or drawbacks of this Charm apply with such beings.

Penitents Like Scattered Grains
Cost: 5m
Mins: Essence 3
Type: Simple
Keywords: None
Duration: Indefinite
Prerequisite Charms: Demonic Primacy of Essence

The individual mortals who pray to an Infernal are as meaningless as individual grains of sand. Still, it is by the accretion of many grains that deserts come to be. This Charm allows the Exalt to hear individual prayers spoken from places of desolation as though she were a spirit. Actually listening to all prayers imposes a -3 internal penalty to all non-reflexive actions; if the Infernal tunes them out, the Storyteller only relays the most widely repeated or urgently spoken prayers. Supplicants who pray from within a blight the Infernal has created with the Charm Holy Land Infliction (see pp. 125-126) may be answered by causing a random object in the supplicant's presence to glow and change into the Infernal's incarnate image as an Obvious Shaping effect for three motes. The enchanted object delivers whatever spoken response the Infernal sends through it (which may encompass one Social attack or informative response) and then returns to normal.

CHARM CONCEPT: PLACE OF DESOLATION
Many Charms known to Cecelyne can only be activated in a place of desolation. Any climate or environment inhospitable to most life qualifies, meaning barren glaciers and seas too salty for any fish qualify just as much as sandy deserts or rocky wastes.
A good rule of thumb is that any place that would require a difficulty 4+ roll to forage within counts (see Exalted, p. 139). As always, the Storyteller remains final arbiter. Of particular note, the realm of Malfeas and shadowlands always qualify, while the Underworld does not. Such desolation transcends Cecelyne's understanding as a living Yozi.


Temple Self Apotheosis
Cost: — (1wp)
Mins: Cult 1, Essence 3
Type: Permanent
Keywords: Emotion, Messianic
Duration: Permanent
Prerequisite Charms: Penitents Like Scattered Grains

Cecelyne orders demonic society by religious tenets because the concept of reverence amuses her. An Infernal with this Charm doubles all mote and Willpower awards provided by her Cult background and may choose to heal in lieu of receiving any or all Willpower at the appropriate interval (two bashing health levels or one lethal health level per one Willpower). Additionally, whenever anyone of equal or lesser Essence prays to the character with a standard prayer roll, they must reflexively pay one Willpower to resist unnatural mental influence or instantly develop an Intimacy of reverence toward the Infernal. If the Infernal preys on this Intimacy with a social attack, she benefits from a full +3 Appearance modifier regardless of relative Appearance.

Ephemeral Abrasion Curse
Cost: 5m
Mins: Essence 2
Type: Simple
Keywords: Combo-OK, Obvious, Sorcerous
Duration: One scene
Prerequisite Charms: Hellscry Chakra

The Infernal gestures in the direction of a chosen incorporeal being. If he does not have a target in mind, the Charm randomly selects a dematerialized being from among those with the highest Essence rating within 10 yards of the Infernal. The Essence of Cecelyne grinds the being, manifesting it as an apparition of itself formed out of whirling sands. Although the manifested being remains dematerialized and therefore unable to hit back, the lacerating sands embedded in its ephemera allow corporeal beings to physically attack it as though it had materialized.
However, each such attack drains one mote from Essence-wielding attackers. Multiple activations of this Charm may concurrently affect as many spirits as the Infernal wishes to tag with committed Essence.

FIRST MALFEAS EXCELLENCY

HARDENED DEVIL BODY (x3)
Cost: —
Mins: Essence 1
Type: Permanent
Keywords: Stackable
Duration: Permanent
Prerequisite Charms: None

Though the Yozis are beyond awareness of most damage, let alone threatened by it, their servants can only manage to embody a fraction of this durability. This Charm may be purchased a maximum number of times equal to the lesser of (Stamina or Resistance). Each purchase gives the Infernal three additional -2 health levels and one extra -4 level.


BY PAIN REFORGED
Cost: 1hl
Mins: Essence 2
Type: Reflexive
Keywords: Combo-OK
Duration: One scene
Prerequisite Charms: None

Pain puts life in perspective, pushing aside all other distractions. This is the simplest truth Malfeas has learned from his imprisonment within himself. Use of this Charm allows an Infernal to ignore all negative effects associated with bashing damage she has suffered. Such injuries do not cause wound penalties or slow her down in any way. If reduced to Incapacitated by bashing wounds, she does not fall unconscious, but remains fully aware as further bashing trauma converts to lethal. Aggravated and lethal injuries penalize characters protected by this Charm normally. When this Charm ends, all suspended penalties resume immediately.

SCAR-WRIT SAGA SHIELD
Cost: —
Mins: Essence 2
Type: Permanent
Keywords: None
Duration: Permanent
Prerequisite Charms: By Pain Reforged

Malfeas does not quietly accept his tortured inversion, but builds up calloused layers and folds them in a vain attempt to seal his wounds and inoculate against future injury. Such efforts cannot achieve their goal, but incidentally toughen the Demon City further. The first purchase of this Charm raises the character's natural lethal soak to her Stamina rating (rather than half) and gives her bashing Hardness equal to her Stamina.
The second purchase of Scar-Writ Saga Shield requires Essence 3+ and adds the character's Essence rating to her natural bashing and lethal soak. Her Hardness remains unaffected. An Infernal needs Essence 4+ to buy this Charm a third time, at which point her natural bashing and lethal Hardness increase to match her natural soak. Additionally, attackers with a permanent Essence at least four dots less than the Infernal can no longer inflict minimum damage to her with their attacks if they fail to penetrate her soak.


By Rage Recast
Cost:
—; Mins: Essence 2; Type: Permanent
Keywords: Desecration, Obvious, Shaping
Duration: Permanent
Prerequisite Charms: By Pain Reforged

Once Malfeas was the Primordial King, his power and glory unconstrained by the crude limits of a body. Now, mutilated and caged in the prison of form, his cosmic might and boundless fury can only twist him toward more harmful expressions of his majesty. An Infernal who learns this Charm selects a package of (Essence x 10) points of temporary positive mutations as a "library" of options. She must allocate all of these points at the time of purchase, even if that means choosing mutations she doesn't really want as filler.

Once allocated, the library remains fixed. However, raising Essence allows the Infernal to re-allocate all (Essence x 10) mutation points from scratch as though she just acquired the Charm. At Essence 10, the warlock may reallocate her mutations by spending one full day in either isolated meditation or a series of ancient, ecstatic dances.

Whenever the warlock's anima banner reaches the 11+ mote level of expression, she reflexively gains eight points of mutations selected from her library as a temporary Desecration. Horns may curl from the warlock's forehead, leathery wings unfold from her back, or fanged maws open upon her body—whatever demonic features best express the Chosen's fury. She may not gain mutually-exclusive mutations at the same time. This transformation is not optional. In the unlikely event the Infernal cannot express a full eight points without going over (such as by only purchasing Abominations at Essence 3), she must get as close as possible. Once her anima subsides below the 11+ level, the mutations fade back into her body.

By Rage Recast explicitly ignores the normal limit on how many positive temporary mutations a Desecration effect may bestow (see The Manual of Exalted Power—The Infernals, p. 103). Mutation points gained from the Charm do count toward the usual mutation point limit other temporary Desecration effects can bestow.

If the character knows the Charm Fealty-Acknowledging Audience (see The Manual of Exalted Power—The Infernals, p. 116), then she may pay a surcharge of +5m when invoking that Charm to gift those who swear fealty to her with up to eight points of mutations she is capable of manifesting with By Rage Recast. This gift is a permanent Desecration.

With Essence 3+, the Infernal may choose to retain her current mutations when her anima banner recedes. She may dismiss these mutations at any time her anima is below the 11-15 mote level of display with a diceless miscellaneous action, but must flare her anima anew to restore her mutations or change them out for a new suite of grotesqueries.


Pathetic Distraction Rebuke
Cost
: 3m; Mins: Essence 2; Type: Reflexive (Step 2)
Keywords: Combo-OK
Duration: Instant
Prerequisite Charms: By Pain Reforged

Having been humbled once, Malfeas is not keen to repeat the experience. This Charm enhances any attempt to parry an incoming attack, allowing the Infernal to ignore all penalties that apply to her Parry DV (regardless of which Ability or weapon she uses to block). If the Exalt has By Pain Reforged active, she also adds the greatest wound penalty she should suffer as a bonus to her Parry DV and can block lethal or ranged attacks with an unarmed parry.

Infernals may purchase this Charm a second time, in which case, each use of Pathetic Distraction Rebuke cumulatively reduces the cost to do so again by one mote until the Exalt's next action. For example, the cost to defend against a flurry with four attacks would be six motes (3m + 2m + 1m + 0m).

Mutation Library (Essence x10)
-Enhanced (Sense) (2M)
-Hyper-Awareness (2M)
-Natural Weapons [Wings] (4M) [M>3, therefore this mutation adds +5 damage to Wing Attacks]
-Glider [Wings] (4M)
-Flier (4M) [Requires Glider]
-(Appendage) Mutation [Wings] (1M, Negative)
-(Realm) Gatekeeper [Shadowland] (3M)

So in the example in the omake, Rodrigo used a package of Glider and Flier, both with the 'Wings' Appendage Mutation applied, (4-1+4-1=6), plus the Enhanced sight Mutation (+2), which brings the package to the required value of 8 Mutation Points. In different circumstances, the Strix might choose to harden his wings, making them bad at flying but good at fighting, or lessen them further and improve his ability to seek those who were lost in the depths of the Shadowlands, before the Dead can claim them.

CRIMSON LEAPING CAT TECHNIQUE
Cost: 3m
Mins: Martial Arts 2, Essence 2
Type: Supplemental
Keywords: Combo-OK, Obvious
Duration: One action
Prerequisite Charms: None

The character moves with the speed and agility of a leaping tiger. With this Charm active, add the character's Martial Arts score to her Dexterity for purposes of determining how far she can move, dash or jump in a single action.


'The Golden Strix' is actually a reference to my favourite Exalted fanfic 'Anathema'(Scroll down to the bottom) by Bek Corbin, though this is really more of a name drop than an expy.
 
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A Hypocrite and a Liar (GSP Gabriel Rohawn by Enjou)
Ok, got another Infernal for Cecelyne.

Gabriel Rohawn: A Hypocrite and a Liar

I'm a hypocrite and a liar.

This was a thought that Father Gabriel Rohawn was having a lot, lately. At the age of nineteen he had been a firm believer in God and a faithful adherent of the Britannian Church. He had wanted to dedicate his life to service in God's name, and so he had enrolled in a seminary to become a priest. Dedicating himself to learning everything he could, he devoured the material with great zeal. He'd learned well. Too well, in fact. Rather than reinforcing his faith, his newfound knowledge of the church's teachings only made him doubt. There were too many incosistencies and contradictions, with no way to reconcile them. When he asked his teachers about them, he smiled and nodded at their answers that really answered nothing. Then there had been his six month period of missionary work in Area Eleven to preach to the native people there. The way Britannia treated those people disgusted him, and even his fellow missionaries seemed to treat those poor souls with disdain rather than compassion.

Even so, he graduated and became a priest just like he'd always wanted. Due to his exceptional performance he'd immediately been assigned to a newly built church in a small but growing town in the western portion of Area 1 where a small Sakuradite mine had been opened. Despite his doubt he'd performed his duties as best he could, giving sermons to his flock and dispensing sage advice. He was quite popular with his adherents, but even as attendance grew Gabriel's own skepticism only increased with it. A number of other priests he had met were corrupt, conning money and favors from their followers. This seemed especially true with those higher up in the church's ranks, so there was nothing he could do to report the matter to anyone. He was the lowest rank among the priests, and those above him had too much influence.

Then three months ago it happened. One day he woke up and realized he didn't believe in God anymore. The holy scriptures just didn't make sense under any kind of real scrutiny, and the church itself was a hive of malfeasance from the top down. But what was he to do next? He had thought long and hard about it, which was why he was now staring down at his letter of resignation. He only had to send it to his superior and it would be done. But what then? He was miserable now, preaching what he believed lies to good and honest people and getting paid for it. Even if a priest's stipend wasn't much, was he really any better than those others who exploited the faithful for personal gain?

But what else could he do? He had made this his life. He hadn't studied any other skills, nor did he have the money to put himself back in school. He couldn't go to his parents either. They would probably disown him completely if he told them he had lost faith, given the degree to which they believed. Even if he didn't tell them he was an atheist now, just quitting the church would be breaking what they viewed as a sacred vow. He didn't really have any friends he could rely on either - everyone he knew was connected to the church in some way.

Then there was the matter of his flock. They would be disappointed if he left. Many of them relied on him for advice, and not just in matters of faith. What would become of them? And then there was Josephine and Cadence, the two nuns who just five months ago had been assigned to his growing church to assist with the increasing day to day workload. Those two were twin sisters, apparently the bastard daughters of some minor Britannian noble. After having turned twenty they had been shoved off on the church and dedicated to a life of service. They didn't seem to mind though, and pursued their duties diligently. They also seemed to look up to him a lot. If he left, they'd be crushed.

He took one more look at his resignation letter, and realized he couldn't go through with it. There wasn't anything else for him, and too many others would be hurt by him acting selfishly. He crumpled it up and threw it in the fireplace.

I'm a hypocrite and a liar, and it seems that will never change.

Gabriel sat at his desk, his face in his hands as he contemplated his misery. Would he ever be happy again? Suddenly, the room was filled with an incredibly intoxicating scent.

"Hi there, handsome." a sultry voice called out.

He turned his head to see a woman lying naked on his bed. No, not a woman. That thing wasn't human. It had the form of a woman, but it was something else. Lavender skin, black eyes with no pupils, and a number of piercings across her body.

"What... what are you!?" he asked.

The thing in the form of a woman giggled, sitting up. It was a struggle for him to maintain eye contact, as even her slightest move seemed to be intended for seduction. "My name is Feriasha, and I am a neomah, a courtesan of Malfeas. But that, Father Rohawn, is not why I am here. I have an offer for you."

This thing was a demon. It had to be. But that was absurd! God wasn't real, so why should demons be? Unless...

Feriasha seemed to realize what he was thinking. "Oh yes, Father Rohawn, I am a demon. And the gods are indeed real."

"God is real..." It was a revelation that should have filled him with joy, but why was a demon telling him this?

She looked at him with amusement. "Gods, Father Rohawn, not God." He just looked at her, confused. "There's more than one god, and in fact there are so many they may well be beyond counting. But some are more important than others. What matters though is that the gods are corrupt and traitorous, even more so than those who run the Britannian church."

"What do you mean?"

"Once my masters ruled the world. It was they who created it, after all, and the gods were made as stewards to ensure it operated as it should. But the gods grew jealous of their Primordial makers, and with the help of two traitors created weapons that could slay them. A great war was fought, and those who surrendered were imprisoned, becoming the Yozis." she said, sadness creeping into her voice.

"And this has to do with the offer?"

She smiled again. "You are a smart one. Yes, in exchange for one of the weapons that cast them down, one that will give you the power to free yourself from your miserable fate and so much more, all they ask of you is that you help free them. Other than that, you can do as you please."

He should say no. This thing was a demon, so it couldn't be trusted... but was that really the case? The church was corrupt, that was certain. If the gods were real, then they were doing nothing to stop that. But if he had power as great as what was apparently being offered, he could no doubt change the church into something he might be proud of...

I'm a hypocrite and a liar. Does it really matter if she's telling the truth?

"Very well, I accept your offer."

"Wonderful!" She leapt from the bed at him, and he was shocked as she seemed to wrap herself around him. She kissed him, shoving her tongue down his throat. And then everything went black.

====

Two weeks after his Exaltation, things hadn't really seemed to change much for Father Gabriel Rohawn. He was still doing what he had always been doing - preaching to the faithful, dispensing sage advice, and running his growing church.

Even so, there were differences. His sermons were more passionate. His flock seemed quite happy with this development. Apparently some had noticed he seemed a bit depressed. However, that wasn't the only change. More people started to attend after each sermon. Further, the adherents seemed to start revering Gabriel more and more. This was no doubt due to the locusts that Feriasha had told him to cook into the mana that they would eat every time they attended.

His orders apparently involved gaining influence over the Britannian Church and turning it towards the ends of the Yozis, so to do that he had to continue growing his flock and showing his worth to those higher up. He'd probably have to start sending bribes to the right people to advance...

He was about to turn in for the night when he heard Josephine and Cadence both scream. Rushing from his room, he ran to theirs to see what was wrong. He opened their door and was hit with a gust of wind. Each twin was surrounded by gale force winds. On their foreheads he saw fan symbols.

"They're Dragonblooded!" Feriasha exclaimed. "Air aspects. Newly Exalted at that. Given their age, the quality of their breeding must be low, but this is still a wonderful opportunity."

He didn't comment. As the winds died down he was too busy staring at the young women before him. Before his Exaltation, he'd been trying to hold back on the thought, but they really were beautiful. Their hair was a fiery orange, their eyes a vibrant violet, and their curves were more apparent now more than ever as he was seeing them in their underwear.

"Father Gabriel, what just happened?" Cadence asked, the fear evident on her face. They must have known nothing about Exaltations, so this was not something they understood. Josephine was looking at him hopefully for answers, looking like she might cry at any moment.

"I... well..."

"You could have them both, you know? Make them yours."

"What!?"

"Oh, don't be so surprised. I'm fairly certain they're in love with you, and have been for a while now. And you know, they have been eating the locust mana. They'd be more than happy to worship you, now. They'll do anything you want. Just do what I say. How about it? It'll be the most fun you've ever had."

Ever since ending up in his head, Feriasha had been encouraging him to indulge in baser things. How many times had she asked him to get some grapes now? Apparently sharing his senses was boring her out of her mind, given he had been living a rather modest life until now.

He looked at the two young Exalts again.

I'm a hypocrite and a liar. Why the hell not?

He smiled reassuringly. "Everything is alright. Nothing's wrong, and you've done nothing wrong." The two of them looked relieved, their eyes locked on him. They really would do anything for him, wouldn't they? "No, you've been chosen to help me with the most holy of tasks."

====

A couple days later Gabriel was sitting at his desk, munching on a piece of his own locust mana. Looking over at the bed where his two lovers were sleeping peacefully, he grinned with a sense of smug self-satisfaction. He'd need to find some way to get a bigger bed. His was a bit cramped, not that he minded all that much. They were soft and warm, after all.

A knock at the door brought him out of his thoughts. Who could it be? Nobody else should be in the church at this hour. "Who's there?" he asked, his voice commanding.

A gravely voice answered him. "Green Sun Prince Gabriel Rohawn, I have come with orders from the Unquestionables. You are to prepare for a journey to Japan to meet the Marshal of the Althing Infernal and to receive training in your duties from a senior Infernal."


Name: Gabriel Rohawn
Age: 24
Motivation: To convert his flock to worship of the Yozis so that he may preach truth to them. rather than lies.
Urge: To gain control and influence within the Britannian Church and turn it against the gods. (Cecelynian)
Caste: Malefactor
Patron: Cecelyne
Favored: Ebon Dragon
Anima Banner: A burning holy book.
Attributes: Strength 2 , Dexterity 2, Stamina 3, Charisma 4, Manipulation 4, Appearance 3, Perception 3, Intelligence 3, Wits 3
Virtues: Compassion 3, Conviction 2, Temperance 2, Valor 2
Abilities: Awareness 3 (Corruption 2), Bureaucracy 2 (Church 3), Integrity 3, Larceny 1, Linguistics 2 (Native: English. Japanese, Old Realm) Lore 3, Medicine 1, Occult 2, Performance 3 (Preaching 2), Presence 3, Resistance 1, Socialize 3 (Religious People 3, Seduction 3*), Survival 1
Backgrounds: Backing (Yozi) 1, Cult (Yozi) 1, Influence (Yozi) 1, Coadjutor (Feriasha, Neomah) 4, Allies (Josephine, Cadence) 2, Resources (Priest's Stipend) 1
Essence: 3
Willpower: 5

*From Coadjutor

Traits from Unwoven Coadjutor:

Charms
Cecelyne
First Cecelyne Excellency, Second Cecelyne Excellency, Cecelyne Inevitability Technique, Cecelyne World-Shaping Cosmogony
Cecelyne Mythos Exultant
Transcendent Desert Creature
Sands Through Fingers Defense
Sandstrike Blast
Holy Land Infliction
Locust Mana Plague

Ebon Dragon
First Ebon Dragon Excellency, Ebon Dragon Inevitability Technique, Ebon Dragon World-Shaping Cosmogony
Ebon Dragon Mythos Exultant
Loom-Snarling Deception
Eldritch Secrets Mastery
Shadow Spite Curse
Witness to Darkness
 
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The Second Breath of The Heavy Wind (GSP Karin Désirée de La Vallière by Enjou)
Mmmkay, finished my ZnT expy. You guys didn't want Louise? Fine. Have her mother instead. Also, fun fact - in ZnT Karin became acquainted with Princess Marianne of Tristain in her youth. Here she became acquainted with an entirely different Marianne...

The Second Breath of The Heavy Wind

Karin exited the collapsing Vallière family mansion as quickly as she could, her entire body aching as she limped away from the burning building. She still wasn't entirely sure of everything that had occurred. Not one hour ago everything had been fine. Then chaos. Almost simultaneously a Wyld Hunt and a type of Exalt she was not familiar with attacked her home. Why, she didn't know, but the ensuing slaughter had been indiscriminate. Her husband had fought bravely in the defense of his family and their servants, but even a Dragonblooded of his caliber was no match for that many foes. She had tried to help, but she had grown rusty over the years. She had been knocked away immediately.

She hobbled over to a nearby tree and sat down, bone tired. There was pain, to be sure, but she bore it well. She was quite sure a few of her ribs were cracked, possibly broken. She would grieve for her husband in due time, but that was not the most pressing matter. Her children had been taken. The reason why did not know, but she had seen a Lunar in its war form absconding from their home with Eleanor and Louise carried under its arms. She had tried to stop it, but the hallway between had collapsed before she could do anything. Escape had been her only option after that. She wasn't sure if Cattleya had survived or not, but if she hadn't been taken with her sisters then it was doubtful. While Eleanor was a healthy nineteen year old who had awakened her dragon's blood two years ago and Louise was a bright and energetic child of eight, Cattleya suffered from a weak constitution since her birth sixteen years ago. If her blood awakened, then it might cure her, but Karin's own birth status as a mere commoner put such a thing in doubt.

Regardless, the time to grieve would come later. Karin was a de La Vallière, and she had to put her duty to those who might yet be saved first, and barring that to avenge their deaths. Her code, the Rule of Steel, would demand nothing less. She had to be strong, for her children if nothing else.

Still, she needed to rest. She was physically exhausted from her injuries and the smoke inhalation. She might be able to push herself, to move onward now, but... no. She needed rest. She could pursue after she rested... just a few minutes...

Karin dreamed. She dreamed of her time in the military, when she had been just a commoner. She dreamed of her command over the Manticore Knights, and earning herself the epithet "The Heavy Wind" for her fast and aggressive style of fighting. She dreamed of meeting her friend Marianne, whose strength had earned Karin's respect. Both had married high above their station, Karin catching the attention of a Duke in Area 6 and Marianne the Emperor himself. They had drifted apart, but still met and talked on occasion, until Marianne's assassination and the exile and subsequent deaths of her children. It was perhaps the one scar on Karin's loyalty towards Britannia, but nonetheless Britannia was her nation and the future of her children, so she had kept her loyalty.

Karin awoke to the sound of a strange cry. The pain in her body was still there, but her focus was razor sharp.

"Good morning, fair lady. Wonderful day, isn't it?"

Before her was a strange thing. Its form was shrouded in thick mist, but it was vaguely insectoid. It's many jointed limbs each had a weapon on the end. Swords, axes, sledges. But most common on it were rapiers, Karin's weapon of choice. She didn't know the exact type of demon it was.

Karin sighed. She was in no condition to fight. Still, she would show no weakness. The Rule of Steel would not allow it. "So then, I suppose you are to my end then? Well, get on with it then. Kill me and be done with it, demon."

The demon tilted it's... head? Karin supposed it might be its head, anyways. It tilted its head to the side, as if confused. "End you? Why would I do that, fair lady? This is an auspicious occasion, and it wouldn't do to ruin it with unnecessary bloodshed."

Karin simply glared daggers at the demon.

"Oh, yes, where are my manners? My name is Irinzal, a humble Tomescu of the Demon City, at your service, fair lady." the demon stated cheerfully.

Karin just continued glaring.

"...well then, on to business?" Only a slight bit of disappointment had seemed to creep into Irinzal's voice, then suddenly going back to full cheer. "It is my greatest honor to have been selected to deliver unto you an offer from the Yozis. They would like it very much if you would assist them in escaping from their prison."

Karin scoffed. "And why would I do that? Why would I betray Britannia to help them?"

"Why you wouldn't, of course."

The answer was not exactly expected. "What!?"

"Britannia has already betrayed you, fair lady. Or didn't you notice when they set a Wyld Hunt against your household just last night?" the Tomescu stated, matter-of-factly, while pointing one of its rapier limbs at the ruins of her home.

Karin didn't have a response to that. He was right, after all. She and her husband had always been loyal servants to their nation, and this seemingly unprovoked attack had come out of nowhere... just like the assassination of Marianne.

"Well, anyways, in exchange for your cooperation you will gain an Exaltation of the highest grade."

Karin's eyes widened. An Exaltation? It wouldn't be as a Dragonblooded, but one of the highest grade meant it was at least as powerful as that of the Lunar Exalted. It frequently took entire teams of Dragonblooded to take them out. With that kind of power...

"Would the Yozis help me search for my daughters?" Karin asked, a faint hope in her voice.

"The Yozis themselves? Not likely." Irinzal answered, strangely honest all things considered. "However, you would have access to a great deal of resources, including the demons summoned by any Yozi cults. The others who have agreed to this deal may also be willing to help, especially those you will work with directly. Oh, and as a bonus you will have my services as an advisor."

Karin closed her eyes for a moment so she could think. Britannia had indeed betrayed her family. Even if her daughters were found safe and sound, there was no guarantee they would be allowed to live. She owed no loyalty to her country anymore. The Rule of Steel would not be broken. If helping the Yozis would see her daughters found and made safe, she would help them.

"I accept."

"A fine decision, fair lady!"

Suddenly the demon lunged at her, and Karin lost consciousness the instant it collided with her.

=====

Karin awoke after dreaming of a silent wind and a great crystalline being proclaiming itself the Principle of Hierarchy, the shell around her shattered to pieces. Green and red fire burned around her, only to fade quickly.

"It appears to have worked, fair lady! Congratulations. This is wondrous day indeed!"

Karin stood up, noting her balance seemed to be off. "Irinzal? Where are you?"

"Oh, I'm inside your head, fair lady. The merger seems to have worked flawlessly, if I do say so myself. Truly being the Unwoven Coadjutor to a Green Sun Princess such as yourself is a great honor beyond my wildest dreams. I look forward to serving you for the rest of your days, however long that may be." the demon stated with his usual cheer. Karin just groaned. Of course, the demon had said it would be her advisor, so of course that meant that it would be living in her head.

"Fine. What..." Karin stopped when she noticed a sudden chill. She looked down. She was naked. Also, more importantly. "What happened to my breasts!?" They were gone. Well, not gone, but they were flat. That was just as good as gone! Why?

With speed she did not know she possessed, she ran over to a nearby water feature in the mansion's gardens. Karin gaped at her reflection.

"What the fuck!?"

Staring back at her was her 16 year old self. The self before she'd had her final growth spurt and filled out.

"Oh, that? Well, the Infernal Exaltation takes one back to the prime of youthful vigor. Though it appears it may have overshot a little bit... still, your current body is in the prime of youth and should have no issues! I'm sure it will be fine."

A vein popped up on Karin's forehead. "Fix this. Now."

"I beg your pardon, fair lady?" her advisor asked inquisitively.

"Fix this right now! I liked being tall!" she demanded impetuously.

"Err... well, I'm sorry, but there's not really anything I can do about it."

Karin's temper exploded. This wasn't fair! She screamed, she yelled, she threw things, she thew more things with her mind, she... what?

"Oh, that's your telekinesis, fair lady. Mind-Hand Manipulation, it's called. Quite useful, if I do say so myself."

Well... that was a thing. Karin did her best to calm down, reminding herself of the Rule of Steel. She only looked like a teenager, she shouldn't act like one. After taking a moment to center herself, she decided she needed to assess the situation.

"So then, what now? What are my orders?" she asked.

"Hmm... yes, let's see. Ah! You are to ensure the empire being created by one Lelouch vi Britannia is properly ordered. Apparently the Principle of Hierarchy doesn't trust the Champion of Oramus not to make a mess of things. I can't say I disagree, even if his parade through Malfeas was fun to watch. The company the Marshall of the Althing Infernal keeps is quite rowdy, after all."

Karin did her best to remind herself of the Rule of Steel and prevent herself from screaming at the absurdity of the situation. She succeeded. Mostly. Damnable teenage hormones.


Name: Karin Désirée de La Vallière
Epithets: The Heavy Wind, Commander of the Manticore Knights (Former), Duchess of Vallière (Former)
Age: 40 (Apparent Age: 16)
Motivation: To find her daughters and ensure their safety.
Urge: To ensure Lelouch vi Britannia's Empire will have a proper hierarchy. (Pyrian)
Caste: Scourge
Patron: She Who Lives in Her Name
Anima Banner: A tornado filled with tiny crystal spheres.
Attributes: Strength 3, Dexterity 5, Stamina 3, Charisma 4, Manipulation 2, Appearance 3, Perception 2, Intelligence 3, Wits 2
Virtues: Compassion 2, Conviction 4, Temperance 2, Valor 5
Abilities: Athletics 3, Awareness 2, Dodge 1, Drive 2 (Knightmare 2), Integrity 3, Larceny 1, Lore 2, Melee 3 (Rapiers 2) , Occult 1, Presence 3 (Intimidation 2), Resistance 2, Socialize 2 (Nobles 1), Stealth 1, Survival 1, War 2
Backgrounds: Backing (Yozi) 1, Cult (Yozi) 1, Influence (Yozi) 1, Coadjutor (Irinzal, Tomescu) 5, Resources (Offshore Australian Accounts) 4, Demon Familiar (Zeth, Gethin) 1
Essence: 2
Willpower: 9

Traits from Unwoven Coadjutor: Her appearance briefly becomes misty at dawn and dusk. (-0)

Charms
She Who Lives in Her Name
First She Who Lives in Her Name Excellency
Factual Determination Analysis
Cosmic Transcendence of Valor
Essence-Dissecting Stare
Mind-Hand Manipulation

Adorjan
First Adorjan Excellency
Wind-Born Stride (x2)
Unimpeded Perfection of Exertion
Foam-Dancing Haste
Gravity-Rebuking Grace
 
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Modern Raksha
Speaking broadly that is. Individual rakshas vary a great deal. Just as there are death cult humans, there are Raksha utterly in awe of Oramus's sheer style and would love to be his bitch.

Perhaps in the same way humans might worship Cthulhu. "At least I'll be eaten last!"

I think you're making Oramus too much of a "brozi" towards the Raksha. Both groups hated the other, because they would always undo each others' work. So Oramus worked with the others to build Creation and that was that.

The Raksha hate the Yozis. They want the titans to never escape, because if they do they'll have lost any chance at restoring pure chaos.

Not at all. The vast majority will hate the Primordials as a whole, but minorities would find appeal even in the opposition to their existence.

Raksha are hardly a monolithic block. Each of them are their own narrativr bloc, and would hate each other just as much. The difference is more or less just scale.It'd be harder to find Akuma Sidereals than crazier than usual Raksha who are fascinated like moths to flames...and since the Wyld is infinite, that says a lot.

Now if you go to the big and ancient Unshaped you'd find the trends set in a bit harder on the pure basis that rakshas fool enough would be long dead, converted to god/demon or otherwise enslaved
That's not quite right. Who of you read Graceful Wicked Masques? Well, don't think too hard about it: it's difficult even by difficult standard.

I go instead with the Raksha version that appears on Ink Monkeys:
The Fair Folk Revisited
Bells chime in the darkness beyond the edge of the village.
Icicles hanging from the eaves shiver with anticipation. Women
gather their children close and cover their ears, while men
tighten their grip on ice-axes. The Winter Folk are abroad in
the night.
Two princes of chaos vie for a maiden's affections. Their contest
is reality itself; mountains rise and crumble, armies march,
and hearts break in the struggle. Their contemporaries look on
with bright, hungry eyes.
A raksha noble sits his throne among opulent splendor to
shame the very gods of Heaven. Miles-long streamers of silk
flutter in air heavy with the most exotic perfumes; his clothes
are alive with burning poetry, words that write themselves upon
the very nature of those who read them. He beholds the ruin
and poverty of his exile to this alien shore, and falls into despair.
These are the stories of the Fair Folk—invaders, nightmares,
and broken refugees. The raksha remain a vital but little-understood
element of Exalted stories. Here, then, are the inner
lives of the tribes of madness.

What the Creation-Born See
For all the contempt the Exalted held for the princes of
chaos, the scars of the Balorian Crusade still mark Creation
to this day. These wounds are most obvious in the ragged and
embellished borders of all modern maps of Creation, where cartographers
exercise artistic fancy because attempts at serious
navigation are no longer possible, but they can also be found
pervading the scholarship of the Creation-born. Savants tend
to think of the Fair Folk in their most famous incarnation—as
numberless hordes storming in from the inchoate chaos beyond
the world. The Fair Folk assaulted Creation in the hundreds of
millions during the Balorian Crusade—at the moment when the
Scarlet Empress breached the Imperial Manse, there were more
raksha within Creation's borders than living humans.
Any cosmologist from a respectable institution of higher
learning will attest that the Wyld is infinite in scope, or so
nearly infinite that any lesser distinction is not worth drawing.
As a result, most savants believe that the Fair Folk are also
infinite in number, and that for all of modern history, their vast,
unstoppable tide has only been held back by fear of the might
of the Realm.
The truth is somewhat different.

Behind the Mask
The raksha think of themselves as the battered remnants of
a people once proud and mighty but now hovering at the brink
of extinction. While the Wyld might be infinite in scope, the
Fair Folk host is not.

The Ecology of the Unshaped
The Wyld is a vast cauldron of boiling myth and churning
narrative from which the unshaped naturally arise. When a
tangle of fantasy happens to fumble into something resembling
momentary internal coherence, a collection of Graces may
form, hardening the dream against the surrounding storm of
dissolution and change. These still-shifting-but-coherent narratives
are what the common folk of Creation think of as Wyld
storms and savants recognize as the unshaped raksha. The unshaped
emerge by chance and without rhyme, reason, or regularity.
In the First Age, the No Moon researcher Brilliant Sky
once devised a deep-Wyld survival and exploration station and
monitored a vast sector of Pure Chaos (to the extent that he
was able to determine boundaries of the field of observation).
He was able to derive almost no useful information about raksha
birth demographics; in one year, he witnessed the formation
of nine new self-aware vortices; in another year, 32; and
then for a five-year span, none at all.
The total raksha population increases slowly; unshaped are
born hungry, and their brethren are their primary source of
food. The internal mythology of newborn unshaped is simple
and dull in comparison to the maelstrom of possibility around
them, and so they extend feelers of narrative into the endless
sea of waypoints until they encounter another of their kind.
Then, young unshaped move to the attack, sending their newly-
sculpted fictions and Emanations to war. This cannibalistic
growth/expansion phase lasts for centuries, by the reckoning of
the hateful time-piece the Primordials inflicted on the Wyld—
1,000 years of unchecked hunger is common. Eventually, if it
survives, the unshaped passes out of its feeding frenzy and into
a period of learning and consolidation which roughly corresponds
to adulthood among the princes of chaos.

The Ishvara
The typical raksha (shaped and unshaped alike) evolves
along the course of a personal narrative, growing to embody
an internal mythology it spends its immortal existence cultivating.
Eventually this produces ancient Fair Folk of tremendous
power, each of whom embodies a legend so persuasive or
intense that the world bends around it. Working within the
theme of its legend, such a raksha may stand against even the
mighty Exalted.
But sometimes, rarely, occasionally, something happens
which almost never happens—an occurrence seen only a handful
of times in all the history of time and before-time. Sometimes
a raksha's narrative evolution takes a massive leap forward,
as if the protagonist had reached into the heart of the
universe to grasp a myth so compelling and powerful that in
embodying it, he would become a thing immortalized unto the
heart of existence—a legend beyond all legend. These are the
ishvara. They are vastly more potent than raksha of the same
Essence, capable of standing against the most powerful of devas
and engaging in duels with the Celestial Incarnae.
Such beings never come into existence by accident. The rarity
of their appearance is directly proportional to the difficulty
of a raksha ever achieving apotheosis. Like all other princes of
chaos, Fair Folk who transcend into ishvara are evolving along
the course of a personal mythology. The difference is that these
raksha have created a narrative so compelling that everyone
goes along with it. By subordinating the tales of other legendary
raksha, and even gods, the myth grows in power. If the raksha
can entangle enough powerful beings in its story, by antagonism,
alliance, or association, it begins to become something
out of scope with what it was before. Eventually it reaches a
narrative climax and grasps true power, becoming the embodiment
of a legend, the living avatar of a myth which can shake
reality to its foundations.
Such was the case with Princes Balor and Laashe, and the
terror known as the Fomorian Dream.
Easily the most famous raksha to have ever existed, Prince
Balor of the Terrible Gaze became ishvara by grasping a legend
countless Fair Ones had failed to reach. His tale was that he
would be the one to lead the raksha against Creation and destroy
it. This narrative painted him as the greatest of all fae,
who would return chaos to the universe, laying low the blasphemy
of shape forever. By the time he reached the pinnacle of
his power, the majority of all raksha in existence were beholden
to the story of Balor, who surpassed all.
When Prince Balor grasped the tail of Ishiika for the first
time, it was embedded so deep into the Faraway—to whence it
had been flung by the Unconquered Sun—that it was thought
impossible that it would ever be retrieved. When Prince Balor
drew Ishiika from its tomb and wielded it, he made his power
clear to the watching universe: the impossible was meaningless
before him with the Terrible Gaze.
As his legend grew, so did his might. Bearing the aspect of
the destroyer, Balor had a number of powers. His Terrible Gaze,
which could slay his enemies by the thousands with the weight
of his stare, was perhaps the least among these, but the one
which best informed his legend—his eyes alone could sear reality.
He was in possession of several such divine miracles, which
gave him the might to defeat ancient heroes of the Silver Pact
in single combat, stand triumphant over Celestial gods, and
wield Ishiika with ease.

And Then, Fire
Prince Balor of the Terrible Gaze led the majority of the tribes
of madness into Creation in his great assault on the house of
the Primordials. The greatest and most fervent among them
took on the blasphemy of shape in emulation of mighty Balor,
while the weakest were enslaved and forced through the Gateway
of Sundraprisha act as the vanguard of the Prince's elite
and the unshaped that followed. The Dragon-Blooded host fell
in disarray, and the fearsome Lunar Exalted were overwhelmed
by the torrent, and it was soon clear that Creation would die
and the Wyld would be pure once again.
Then the skies rained down iron and flame and whirlwinds
of poisoned thorns. The earth convulsed and devoured commoners
by the tens of thousands. The Solar Exalted had been
more powerful, suspicious and idle than the raksha had ever
dreamed, and their weapon worked a massacre among the
princes of chaos beyond even the imagination of the children
of dream.
The Scarlet Empress and the Realm Defense Grid killed the
vast majority of raksha in existence in one mighty stroke. The
result was catastrophic. In just minutes, it was as if the raksha
had suffered their own Great Contagion. Only a small handful
of unshaped escaped back into the Wyld. Most of the
surviving shaped raksha had donned permanent bodies. Unable to
abandon their forms, they were stranded on the shores of Creation,
in the strata of Wyld-infused reality they came to call Rakshastan.

Refugees in the House of the Primordials
In RY 768, most of the raksha in Creation come from one of
three sources.
The first are survivors of the Balorian Crusade who are still
stranded on Creation's shores. Some continue to dream of the
destruction of the house of the Primordials and the conclusion
of Prince Balor's dream; many are members of the Church
of Balor. Others have given up the Crusade as a fool's errand
that has brought only destruction to their race. These raksha,
resigned to their life in exile, tend to exist as the greatest predators
among their kind, attempting to resume the games of conquest
and dominion that occupied them in the Wyld.
The second are 'native' raksha—those created within Rakshastan
since the end of the Balorian Crusade, who have never
known life as one of the unshaped. Such raksha are produced
through the sexual arts of the Staff and occasionally even arise
naturally within the Deep Wyld, much as unshaped congeal
from Pure Chaos—though such Wyld-born shaped raksha are
rare in the extreme. Some dream of the ancestral homeland
they have never known, while others are content with their
lives in Creation.
The third are unshaped which have passed through the
Gateway of Sundraprisha since the end of the Crusade. The
Crusade survivors and Wyld-born shaped raksha were alarmed
by the first wave of these Fair Folk, but soon came to realize
they were not facing an invasion, but rather receiving an influx
of refugees.
In the wake of the Balorian Crusade only a relative handful
of unshaped remained in the Wyld, and most of those had no
interest in Creation. They watched Balor lead his army to ruin,
shrugged, and attempted to resume their mercurial existences.
Then there came a terrifying and unforeseen turn of events.
As if in response to the sudden annihilation of so many raksha,
there was a sudden massive birthing of new unshaped.
But these unshaped were different. They were forming under a
single cohesive and powerful narrative, which painted them as
the predators-in-the-deep, superior monsters, purebred hunters
induced for hunting, slaying, and killing. These hannya
were things of endless, ravenous appetite. Empowered by the
defeat of the raksha hordes, the hannya narrative played upon
the failure and defeat of the returning Crusaders, to paint them
as weak, victims, and therefore prey. None were safe in this
new and predatory age; even the most ancient and powerful
of unshaped were constantly hunted by packs of lean, hungry
vortices. Those who were unwilling or unable to spend every
moment locked in a life-or-death fight for survival were forced
to seek refuge in the house of the Primordials. Ever empowered
by their status as apex predators, this new generation of
unshaped will never leave its hunting stage, as the tale of their
all-consuming hunger constantly reinforces itself.
Caught between two worlds, those refugees which Creation
knows as the Fair Folk have adapted to their liminal existence
in a variety of ways.

On Alien Shores
To play a raksha is to play a proud and mighty hero stranded
on the threshold of a strange, hostile world. The shaped Fair
Folk cannot go home—either they have donned bodies they
cannot remove, or are unwilling to cast themselves into the
feeding frenzy that now dominates the Wyld. They are refugees
encamped at the edge of an engine designed to destroy them.
But that engine has now fallen into disrepair, and the Time
of Tumult offers great opportunities for young raksha looking
for something beyond the desultory games of power played by
the potentates of their kind.

The Games Faeries Play
The raksha are beings of role and ritual. These things bind
together their Graces and protect them from dissolution by the
ever-shifting tides of the Wyld. If the myth that is their life
is to accumulate power and elaborate itself, it must entangle
other narratives with its own; if it does not, it will stagnate and
reach its conclusion, and for the Fair Folk, scribing The End
means calcification and death. For this reason, raksha cannot
simply sit idle in the company of their own kind—a Warrior
will sicken without conflict, an Entertainer wilt and die if she is
not attempting to bring others under her influence through the
graceful arts of addiction and submission.
So it is that when raksha gather into a court, they act upon
one another. They must. The company of their fellows defines
the context of their lives, such that a raksha without context
soon becomes a raksha without life.
This is the status quo of the courts of Rakshastan: The most
powerful nobles rise to the top, accumulating widespread oaths
of fealty, and then cling to power atop a ceaselessly churning
mill of ambition. Those who lack the alliances or prowess necessary
to fend off all comers are soon dragged under and deposed;
those who are too efficient at the art of absolute tyranny
reign for a time over an unchanging realm where none dare lift
a finger in challenge, until they calcify into statues upon their
thrones. Then the court resumes its predatory cycles.
The primary reason Rakshastan doesn't dissolve into widespread
civil war is that the majority of shaped raksha have limited
interest in dominating their fellows; if they wished to engage
in no-holds-barred contests for absolute supremacy, they
would be out in the Wyld, grappling with the young unshaped.
Most Fair Folk participate in raksha politics primarily to defend
themselves and keep boredom at bay. A Luminary might conceive
of a great desire to gain control of a freehold's Glory, and
spend years building alliances, claiming Graces, and pulling the
teeth of enemies in order to do so. Eventually, successful, she
defends her new prize for a time; but if she succeeds too well,
and finds that there are no challenges to her position, she is
likely to repudiate her allies, or attempt to make guardians or
lackeys of her conquered enemies, fully aware that by returning
some degree of agency and volition she also gives them the
power to threaten her again. Boredom is the great bane of the
raksha; if the story of a faerie's life never changes, it is almost
impossible to remain motivated, and apathy is capable of unmaking
the princes of chaos if permitted to settle and stay for
long enough.
And so raksha endanger themselves with irrational politics.
They are, after all, immortal; falling from grace today simply
presents an opportunity to climb back to the heights of power
tomorrow.
Of course, some Fair Folk have more serious ambitions.
When they claim a Heart, it will never be returned. These noholds-
barred raksha politicians may run the risk of calcification
through a 'solved' personal narrative, but they endanger those
around them even more. Raksha threaten one another all the
time; a successful prince of chaos must be able to evaluate the
level of threat his fellows present and respond accordingly.

Living on the Edge
Conceptualizing the raksha requires understanding their
situation. The denizens of Rakshastan are refugees, trapped
between two worlds. They can neither go home—the realms
of pure chaos and unfiltered make-believe—nor are they welcomed
in the lands of Creation. Stranded forever in the most
fragile of sanctuaries, the raksha exist on sips of dreams and
gasps of emotion, the exiles of a failed crusade. In the eras before
this one, the raksha were more numerous than the sands
and the stars; a horde beyond counting. The Fair Folk are creatures
on the verge of extinction. In the Wyld they are hunted
by a newer, sleeker, deadlier apex predator. In Creation, they
are shunned with gifts of cold iron and moonsilver talons. Their
isolation has driven them to take on many shapes and identities,
twisting their narratives into forms which they hope will
one day solve the riddle of Creation and the Wyld: how to exist
within—or conquer—one or the other.

Into the Lands of Shape
Some Fair Folk reason that if they cannot go home, then
there is little sense skulking on the periphery of Creation attempting
to recreate in pale miniature the grandeur and intrigue
of the courts of the Wyld. Why not strike off into the
house of the Primordials, discover its secrets, perhaps even
conquer and rule it?
Creation has led to the rise of a number of strange philosophies
and factions among the raksha, particularly among those
who make frequent sojourns deep into the house of the Primordials
or even live in it full-time. A few of the most notable or
widespread are detailed below.

Going Native
In Nexus, Great Forks, Chiaroscuro, and many other major
cities of Creation, a diligent searcher will find a few raksha
living among the common press of humanity. They sell their
services as entertainers, courtesans, warriors, miracle-workers—
purveyors of dream. In exchange, they take a nip from a
soul here, a sip of dream there. A community with a raksha in
residence is never fully comfortable with their local alien, but
there is a certain exotic allure to 'tame' Fair Folk, and Creationborn
flock to visit them, even against their better judgment.
Life among mortals is less boring than most raksha would
assume. Humans are strange, unpredictable—they do not arrange
their lives in ritualistic relationships, and so when they
break the pattern of their lives with bouts of irrational behavior,
these are often a complete surprise to the Fair Folk, and thus a
delight. Murders among the raksha are often heavily foreshadowed,
with the victim standing to gain as much as the killer.
But among mortals? A corpse appears one day, and everything
falls into pandemonium! Mortals fall in love with little rhyme
or reason, or hate one another when there is no clear profit
for either party in the rivalry. Raksha find the honesty of their
actions bizarre and thus intriguing. This is especially so when
dealing with exceptional Creation-born such as the Exalted,
who storm up and down the length of the world transforming it
according to their will. Such adventure makes for an attractive
alternative to raksha politics.
A few Fair Folk, considered aberrant and bizarre even by
their own kind, become so fascinated with mortals that they attempt
to emulate them in every way—living in disguise among
human communities, perhaps as a cobbler or courtesan, and
attempting to puzzle out the secrets of genuine belief and behavior.
There is even a small group of raksha attempting to find
a way to synthesize a true human soul and cause it to cohabit
with their Wyld nature—to gain the best benefits of mortality
and immortality, human and raksha. They are known among
their kind as sanskaras. Much of their research focuses on the
breeding and examination of fae-blooded children, but they
have yet to find a way to cause a true soul to permanently cohabit
with the Heart.
Most Fair Folk can imagine no practical purpose to such hybridization,
and are vaguely offended by the notion. They think
the sanskaras mad, even by the Wyld's lax standards.

The Shuddadvaita
There exists a faction of Fair Folk who believe it possible to
reshape the entirety of the Wyld using Creation as their catalyst.
They are the Shuddadvaita, the bearers of the way, and
they seek to merge Creation and the Wyld in such a way that
the fusion of land and chaos rolls on in all directions infinitely.
In this endless, borderless sprawl of Middlemarches and Deep
Wyld, they will hunt and conquer as kings.
They call this idealized world Nidana, the chain of causation.
Shuddadvaita tend to be what the Creation-born regard as
domesticated. They are the raksha who are most common to
Creation's more cosmopolitan cities, living amongst her people
in relative harmony. Other Fair Folk regard the Shuddadvaita
as landlocked lunatics who have grown maddened by their
entrapment between the hostile lands of shape and the feeding
frenzy of the Wyld and seek to put an end to the purity of
chaos so that they might once more have their full range of
motion—even if it means robbing their entire species of the gift
of shapelessness forever.
The Shuddadvaita could care less what their contemporaries
think; they believe that by creating Nidana, the goals of
all factions will be achieved, even if not in a way anyone else
would have quite wanted to achieve them. The Creation-born
will still have a world, now infinite in scope (although steeped
in Middlemarch to Deep Wyld-intensity chaos), and the raksha
will have their infinity back, albeit slower and more constrained
in its transformations. The Shuddadvaita are excited
by the return of the Solar Exalted; some believe that if they can
recruit a few young Twilights to their cause, the Solars might
be able to act as the catalyst to bring about their eternal dream.

The Fomorians
Though the ishvara known as the Fomorian Dream is long
dead, slain by the Unconquered Sun in prehistory, his philosophy
lives on in those Fair Folk who have taken up his name
and cause. The Fomorians believe the house of the Primordials
needs to be burned down and its inhabitants put to the sword,
and they aim to do so from within. This is hardly an unusual
sentiment among the Fair Folk, particularly among survivors of
the Balorian Crusade, but the Fomorians take the philosophy
of the Church of Balor (of which many are members) one step
further. Not content with the destruction of the Primordials
and their works, they seek a return to the absolute purity of
the Wyld, and thus the elimination of all sentience. Only when
there are no self-aware patterns within the great chaos of the
Wyld will the Fomorians be satisfied that the universe is as it
should be, cleansed of all memory of the hated Primordials and
their works.
Many raksha understandably take issue with the Fomorian
philosophy, and so the average Fomorian is well-versed not only
in the ways of destruction within the shaped world, but also in
the arts of shaping battle. Shaped Fomorians rarely assume the
beautiful forms generally associated with the Fair Folk, instead
choosing to craft themselves into living nightmares: mossskinned,
prognathous trolls; ogres with flesh-tearing fangs and
great curving horns; stone-armored gargoyles with vast dark
wings; pale, elongated terrors with poison-dripping nails; living
shadows which race upon the north wind and freeze blood with
a touch; and other monstrous forms with which to tear asunder
the shaped world.

The Balorian Heresy
The raksha of the Church of Balor are delighted to possess
the one thing every good religion needs—a persistent, widespread
heresy that sends members of the Church searching far
and wide throughout Creation, not for cracks in the pillars that
hold up the house of the Primordials…but for Prince Balor
himself.
The popular Balorian Heresy holds that Prince Balor never
died in the course of the Crusade. After his infinitely powerful
gaze saw through the intended betrayal of the sisters Incarnadine
and Viridian, the Prince faked his demise by turning his
Terrible Gaze upon himself and creating the field of devastation
that features so prominently in the Testaments of the Church
of Balor.
Having destroyed his enemies, the clever warlord spirited
himself away and watched to see what his army would make of
his apparent demise. Balor wished to test the veracity of his legend
and determine whether the tribes of madness could truly
destroy Creation without him. The Heresy fragments at this
point, depending on which version of the actions of Princess
Melusine and the Duke of Mirrors the adherent believes, but
all versions of the legend end the same way—with Prince Balor
willingly entering a state of calcification to avoid destruction by
the Realm Defense Grid.
Adherents of the Balorian Heresy search far and wide across
Creation for the reliquary of the greatest of all Fair Folk, intent
on reviving him. In the meantime, they attempt to rescue every
calcified raksha they come across from that state—it is difficult
to determine at first glance who a reliquary used to be, and so
any might potentially be lost Balor.
The legend of the Heresy states that Prince Balor meditates
within his reliquary as he waits for the faithful to find him, and
that when he emerges, he shall have confirmed that he is truly
the only one capable of leading the tribes of madness to victory.
More powerful than ever, he will call forth a Second Crusade.
Then mighty Balor shall cast the Deathlords back into the Underworld,
topple the Elemental Poles, steal each of Luna's many
shapes and slay them one by one, and tear the sky asunder so
that the sun falls into the sea and steams both away to nothingness.
He will wield Ishiika within the boundaries of Creation,
for he will have grown such that the grass-cutter scythe is
smaller beside him.
Those Creation-born who are aware of the Heresy dismiss
it as delusions of raksha grandeur, and hope they are correct
to do so.
Having read this, what is the Raksha's situation in this modern world?

In a word: dire.

The failure of the Balorian Crusade shattered the Raskha as they were during the Golden Age. The aftermath of the Twin Cataclism changed the connection of Creation with the Wyld: instead of existing at the edges, now the Wyld behaves more like a separated plane of existence like it was defined in D&D. It's kind of similar to Malfeas and the Underworld actually.

The current situation is similar to the one portrayed above, with a few differences:

-There is Creation, and there is Pure Chaos. The areas where the two meld into each other are called Wyld zones, and have different names based on how prevalent the Wyld is: Bordermarches, Middlemarches, Deep Wyld.
-The Unshaped cannot reach Creation. The world cannot support their chaotic nature, and so they are forced to take Shape. Needless to say, not many do it...unless they are threatened by Hannyas too much and have no other choice.
-Raksha WERE active since the time the world changed, and are as such today. Unidentified flying objects, ancient myths of the Faerie, vampires, werewolves, the chupacabra...all of those myths bear their marks, and they find being mysterious and elusive legends quite enjoyable.
-Wyld zones appears randomly, and are delimited just like Shadowland. Currently the greatest Wyld zone is in Australia...even if some say it IS Australia.
-A Raskha's first and most used Assumption of Dreams and Passion to appear, if very beautiful, human.
-Survivors of the Balorian Crusade are almost unheard of. When you hear someone declaring themselves as such, they are almost surely lying. Almost.
-'Native' Raksha are more common.
-Unshaped which have passed through the Gateway of Sundraprisha since the end of the Crusade are a bit less common, but not unheard of.

Raksha hates the Primordials for changing the Infinite Wyld? The truth is that there is not a Raksha alive that remember that time. Since the moment of their birth, all they have know of that period is through stories and legends, all of them contradictory. The modern world is their reality, and they don't see why it should be different.

So the possibility of making Raksha allies is not impossible.

On another point, there is something I want to ask Slayers and those with Malfeas as favorite:

By Rage Recast and Devil-Tyrant Avatar Shintai.

Those two Charms causes a radical change in the Infernal that take them, and since it's highly customizable, I need to know: who want their characters to take one or both, and in what form?
 
Enlightenment Cannot be Found in a Cave (GSP Shamira Fajr by forginblade)
By Rage Recast and Devil-Tyrant Avatar Shintai.

Those two Charms causes a radical change in the Infernal that take them, and since it's highly customizable, I need to know: who want their characters to take one or both, and in what form?
Shamira would probably not go for that route, not without a lot more character development

Enlightenment Cannot be Found in a Cave

Shamira was lying on the ground inside of a cave, a rock in her mouth as she desperately tried to stifle her screams. The body that the Yozi King Malfeas had crafted for her had become so much stronger and tougher than her old, still rather impressive, physique and now that was working to her disadvantage.

Above her, a cultist was repeatedly stabbing and tearing into her left calf. Malfeas has made her invulnerable to regular knives, so the man needed to use a Firmin's sharpened Needle Knife to so much as pierce her skin and every two or three times he failed to do even that.

She had never really understood why the elder shaman had picked her as his successor, or why the village kept entertaining the fantasies of an old man. It was like he was the only one that didn't realise that he was kept around mostly for his wild tales and medicinal knowledge than any spiritual contribution or the like. It just wasn't proper for a young girl to waste away her life as an unwed spinster who would wander randomly out of town to 'commune' with the gods and the elementals and everybody reminded the poor old man and young girl of it, all day every day. In fact, it took seven different flashy thaumaturgical rituals performed in front of theyoung Shamira before the reality of magic and the gods really sank in. It was only after five months of continued complaining that the community finally realised that the shaman was not going to change his mind and by then Shamira had already been initiated into the first secrets of spirit communion.

The Firmin, who had donated the Needle Knife was warily watching the proceedings from a dark and dank corner of the cave. The Naneke, who had 'volunteered' for the proceedings, was looking decidedly paler and less whole than any other member of its species. Absently Shamira noted that she had bitten off small pieces of the rock and swallowed them without thinking much more about it.

Over the course of a decade she was introduced to the various and varied supernatural courts that were scattered all around the area, learned the many customs of the sea and forest courts. She learned of the Princes of the Earth, the Dragonborn who were the mortals closest to spiritual nirvana and the dreaded Anathema, who through guile and trickery pilfered a part of the Sun, the Moon or even the Stars away and made them their own.

He told of the Terrestrial Exalted's righteous crusades against the Anathema, of how they needed the power of the Elemental Dragons in whose image that they had been shaped and thus had devised ways to shape and mold their inner Essence in Emulation of the Five Celestial Dragons, Pasiap, Hesiesh, Daana'd, Mela and Sextes Jylis. Five styles of Celestial Martial Arts and through the tireless work of dozens of generations of Shamans and many a treacherous negotiation had made elder Rashid come into possession the full training manuals and philosophical outline of four of the five, only the venerable Wood Dragon Style remained out of reach.

The very being of the Naneke finally vanished into thin air and on her lower leg Marisha could feel the Seeker of Forbidden Knowledge's coalesce as a horribly realistic tattoo. In relief, she spat out the rock, only half as big as it was at the start of the operation, and turned around on her back. The middle-aged cultist and his Firmin assistant/pet backed away, wary of the Slayer's wrath.

Mere days after Shamira had turned 18 Rashid, her mentor and example, had passed away, quietly and peacefully in his sleep. Shamira was now her community's emissary, their guide and confidante, even if she was the only one to know it. Though it wasn't easy and she was met with many an obstacle, Shamira successfully navigated her way through the sometimes byzantine requests and demands.

But she had forgotten a key difference between dealing with Terrestrial Gods and Elementals: the latter don't know what they're doing and only imitate the former's dealings and structure superficially. They didn't know any better.

Which was why Shamira completely missed the signs, yet none of that could soothe her rage or muffle her wails as she looked at the burning and wrecked remains of her village.

The Elementals, mercury ants, jokuns and kri had decreed for some new kind of tax that had to be collected from the humans, but hadn't seen fit to so much as mention it to their ambassador.

And when the toll was not paid, human sacrifices would just have to suffice.

She should have seen the signs, how could she have blundered so badly within just the first year? There was just no way that she could ever atone for this?

"Hello, hello. Why are you so sad?" A creature, a demon had appeared behind Shamira, its ichthyoid, almost serpentine body wet and glistering.

"Of course, here I am, confronted by the sight of my greatest failure and a demon just happens to pop up. I guess you're here to offer me power in exchange for the tiny matter that is my soul and free will?" If nothing else it was highly unlikely that the demon was responsible for the destruction of her village. That was clearly done by earth based magic, not that the message that the envoy of the Elemental court bore really left any doubt in Shamira's mind.

"Wow, you already know why Aliyat is here? You're amazing, just like the Green Sun told Aliyat. But, buuuut, what was it again?" The Demjen looked pensive and a bit confused before a lightbulb seemingly lit up above her head and she continued. "Oh yeah, now Aliyat remembers. The Green Sun and the other Unquestionables don't want your soul or free will, you can do whatever you want, but you have to follow the orders they give you. And you'll get the power to beat up those meanies all the way until their innards are splattered all over their sanctums." It wasn't like Shamira had much of a choice.

She accepted and was engulfed by Aliyat's ever widening maw.

The pain in her calf had ebbed away. With slow, deliberate motions Shamira stood up, first leaning against the cave wall, then completely under her power. She motioned for the cultist to retrieve the Agata that his group had summoned to be her familiar and slowly started to make her way to the cave entrance.

It was like awakening out of a trance. In fact, there was no need for a comparison, she had awakened from a trance. A glorious, violence filled trance.

She was standing in the middle of a large, crystalline hall, splatters of evaporating elemental essence all around her. Shamira's body was littered with huge gashes and flesh wounds, lethal enough that it would have killed a normal human four times over, at least.

The memories were coming back, piece by piece. Oh my, well, at least that explained where the wounds came from. And the small patches of green fire. And why the whole court was looking at her in terrified awe after what she had done to that poor jokun, or maybe that had something to do with the hurricane and green flaming hail that had erupted from out of nowhere.

"See, see, don't you feel a lot better now, big sis Shamira?" Aliyat's voice echoed through Shamira's head, something that was easily enough explained to the new Green Sun Princess.

In a side room she found the Celestial Dragon Style Scrolls and cradled them to her chest soundlessly. Aliyat didn't say a word either.

For what seemed to be an eternity the young shaman remained there motionlessly.

"Aliyat"

"Yes, big sis Shamira?"

"This could have been avoided if I was smarter and knew more about the various spirits. Before I can do anything regarding this Reclamation business I need to shore up my shortcomings. Do you know how to?"

"Yeah, I do, big sis. What you need is a Demon Ink Tattoo. A high quality one. That is when you take a demon, cut open your flesh and insert its being into you, making it look like a tattoo. It gives you some of the abilities and attributes of the demon used. The cult that summoned me has someone who can do the necessary operation and they could even summon a demon for you."

"Well, I'll need to get to this Area 11 anyways. So I might as well meet them and find out what they have to offer."

She placed the box containing the original manual scrolls in her satchel as well as the copies she had made in the past few days, three of each. One set she would leave for safekeeping with the cult, one was buried in its own box in the very cave she was leaving behind and the last set went right into the very same satchel bag. She knew enough about the styles that she could practice the beginner essence manipulation moves of both the Air Dragon and the Water Dragon styles on the way.

From a distance Shamira saw the cultist leave with the Firmin, a bulky leather bag reverently held by the middle aged man.

"Very well, Jamal," the Agata peered at her master, her wings buzzing expectantly. Shamira took a seat on the horse sized demon as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

"Let's make way for Area 11."

Name: Shamira Fajr (literal translation: protector of the dawn)
Age: 19
Concept: Tribal Shaman Seeking Redemption
Caste: Slayer

Favored Yozi: Adorjan




Anima Banner: A massive, serpentine eye floating in the sky as a hurricane rages right below it and flaming, emerald hail comes crashing down on the ground
Anima Effect: By spending five motes of Essence, the character may appear glorious and terrifying until the end of the scene (or until he decides to let the effect dissipate). He appears taller and fiercer, with a terrible visage, burning eyes and a deadly, rending grasp. This effect comes into play automatically once the Infernal spends 11+ motes of Peripheral Essence.
While this power is in effect, the character exudes a fear aura which causes all opponents attempting to attack or oppose him (socially or physically) to suffer a -1 external penalty on all attack rolls. This unnatural Emotion effect costs five points of Willpower to ignore for the rest of the scene. The Slayer's terrifying glory unbound also disrupts attempts at coordinating attacks against him, increasing the difficulty to arrange such attacks by 2. Additionally, the immense Essence pressure within the character's anima slows all incoming attacks, increasing the character's DVs by 2. Finally, Infernals of the Slayer Caste are immune to all fear-based Emotion effects while their anima power is active. If a complementary mass combat unit is forced to check for rout because of the Slayer Caste's actions while this anima is active, they suffer a -2 external penalty to the roll.

Motivation: Master all of the Celestial Dragon Styles.
Urge: Destroy Schneizel el Brittania's research group 'Avalon' (Malfean)

Torment: When an Infernal with a Malfean Urge accumulates 10 points of Limit, he suffers the Torment of Malfeas. For the duration of the scene, the character is the focal point of a mindless, uncontrollable and contagious rage. This Torment has two effects. First, for the duration of one scene, everyone who interacts with the Infernal and whose Dodge MDV is less than the Infernal's (Essence + primary Virtue) suffers the full effects of the Berserk Anger Virtue Flaw (see Exalted, p. 105). Affected individuals will always attack the Infernal first. This is a form of unnatural mental influence that can be overcome by spending a number of Willpower points equal to the Infernal's Essence.

In addition, if the Infernal Exalted has any Intimacies of which his Yozi patron disapproves, those Intimacies are also subject to the Torment wherever they may be found as a result of an arcane link with the Infernal. Affected Intimacies trigger Berserk Anger in any who encounter them exactly as the Infernal himself would and are the initial targets of any resulting violence.

Attributes: Strength: 5; Dexterity: 3; Stamina: 4; Charisma: 2; Manipulation: 1; Appearance: 4; Perception: 4; Intelligence: 4 [2+2]; Wits: 3

Abilities: Archery 0, Melee 0, Martial Arts 5, Thrown 0, War 0, Integrity 2, Performance 3, Presence 3, Occult 4 [3+1], Athletics 4, Awareness 3, Dodge 2, Ride 4, Lore 2 [1+1], Linguistics 2 (Native: Farsi; Others: Old Realm, English), Resistance 3, Survival 2, Investigation [1]

Specialties: Martial Arts: When on the offense +3, Presence: Cowing Spirits and Gods +3, Occult: Elementals +2, *Performance: Singing +1, *Resistance: Holding one's Breath Underwater +1, [Lore: Coordinates of Troves of Ancient Knowledge +2], [Linguistics: Gleaming Secret Knowledge from Written Texts +1]

Permanent Essence: 2

Essence Pool: 14 (personal) / 25 (31) (peripheral)
Committed Essence: 6 (Demon Ink Tattoo)

Virtues: Compassion: 3 Conviction: 2 Valor: 4 Temperance: 1

Willpower: 8

Health Levels:
-0: []
-1: [] []
-2: [] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] []
-4: [] [] [] []
Incapacitated: []
Dying: [] [] [] []

Backgrounds: Cult (Yozi): 1
Backing (Yozi) 1
Influence (Yozi) 1
Demonic Familiar (Agata): 2
Unwoven Coadjutor (Demjen): 2
Artifact (Demon Ink Tattoo; Naneke): 3

Trait from the Unwoven Coadjutor: There is an orange glint in Shamira's eyes whenever the light hits her face just right.

Intimacies: Elder Rashid (Fond Remembrance)
Aliyat (Like an annoying younger sister)
Her village (Guilt)
Elementals (Capricious, not to be trusted with anything complicated)
Celestial Dragon Styles (Duty)

*originating from the UC background
[originating from the Demon Ink Tattoo]

Charms

First (Yozi) Excellency: Malfeas, Adorjan
Second (Yozi) Excellency: Malfeas, Adorjan

Malfeas
Hardened Devil Body X3
By Pain Reforged
Scar Writ Saga Shield
Insignificant Embers Intuition
Green Sun Nimbus Flare

Adorjan
Wind Born Stride X2
Joy In Violence Approach
Death-Dealing Journey
Who Strikes the Wind?
Threat-Monitoring Excitement
 
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Infiltration 1.1
[X] Name for Darkness-chan: Sinnihtáre (Epithet: The Eternal Night of Grace)
[X] Name for Muse-chan: Anesidora (Epithet: The Exuberant Genius)


[X] Plan Inside Man

The clock is approaching one o'clock. Outside the villa of Marquess Anson everything is peaceful, the stillness of the night being interrupted only by an armed guard walking around the perimeter.

"This is the plan. Kallen, Yoshitaka: you will board two of the Sutherlands and stay on stand-by inside trucks positioned near the villa. Hopefully they will not be needed, but it's best to be prudent. The others will hide near the perimeter, waiting for my orders. I will send the security guards to your locations, so that you can ambush them quickly and silently."

"And how are you going to do that?"

"It's simple, Tamaki."


The guard reaches a blind zone in the cameras field, and is surprised to see another guard waiting for him, an helmet covering his face. "What's going on? My shift has not ended yet."

"Oh, nothing much." The guard's eyes widen at hearing a voice completely identical to his own, and they widen even more when the helmet is raised and the guard ends up staring at himself. "Just an invasion."

"I happen to be very good at disguise."

Before the guard can react you take out the Stormwand and fire. The charge hits him right in the chest, unleashing the electrical current into his body. He spasms for an instant before falling to the ground, unconscious. Calmly you take off from him the rifle and other accessories like the radio before an Anuhle appears and drags away the body.

Setting everything into its proper place you resume the late guard's patrol. Once in front of the main gate however you make a turn and enter inside the premises, flashing your ID to the guards stationed there who just give you a quick glance before shrugging and immediately forgetting your existence.

While it makes your job easier you hope not all guards are so lazy, because that would just be an insult to your intelligence.

The dematerialized Anuhles that only you can see take the lead, guiding you towards the central security room while looking out for anything that might result in undue scrutiny. You have to hide a few times to avoid another patrol, but soon you are in front of the security room. You wait ten seconds, giving the demonic spiders time to take position, and then you act.

"Sir, I have something to report!" you say as you walk into the villa's central security room, closing the door behind you.

"Well then, out with it! What is so damn important you had to come in here and disrupt our coffee break?" the apparent head of security asks.

"The villa is under attack by giant spiders!" you exclaim, your voice dead serious.

"What!? Don't be absu-" *glomp* he is interrupted as an Anuhle materializes, tackling him from out of nowhere and digging its fangs into the man's throat. As the Anuhles swiftly take care of the guards in the room, you head for the main console to begin your assault in earnest.

First you send all feeds of other camera watching posts in a loop, so that they won't see anything out of the ordinary. Then you cut off all lines of communication with the outside and emergency systems, sending a message to the nearby police station that it's due to maintenance work being done. It will not fool them forever, but it will be enough.

Now for the most delicate part. You take out the radio and select a certain channel. "R-1, are you ready?"

"Zero?"

"No, I am Cornelia Li Britannia." You sneer. "I said: are you ready?"

"Y-Yes!"

"Good." You control the camera and find the nearest patrol. You grab the microphone and contact them, trying to imitate the head of security's voice. "I saw something move near the alley on your left. Go check it out."

"Yes Boss!" They obey your order immediately. You watch with satisfaction as your men, wearing the Black Knight's uniform complete with beret and visor, gun them down without the smallest noise. Thank the Yozis for silencers.

You repeat the same process many times, sending the guards into ambushes or out of the way as your forces infiltrate the villa. "Is everyone in?" You ask at the end.

"Yes Zero." Ohgi replies.

"Good." You stand up and shed your disguise, revealing Zero in all his glory. "Secure the perimeter. Subdue or eliminate all remaining targets. Make sure nothing that may appear suspicious is visible from the outside. Search everywhere for any document related to what we're searching for." You adjust your suit's neck. "I'll go after the Marquess."

"Alone?"

"Don't worry, I'm well prepared." And not at all alone, you mentally add. "You, on the other hand, should keep an eye out for anything unusual. I have no proof, but there is the possibility the Marquess or someone in his employ has special training. I'm talking about special forces, those guys sent behind enemy lines to wage guerrilla warfare. Extremely dangerous even when outnumbered. Be prepared to fall back if needed and notify me in the event of such an encounter. I'll contact you again when everything's clear."

"Alright Zero. Be careful."

You put the radio in your pocket before leaving the room, the Anuhles following after you. Reaching deeper into the villa you enter the Marquess' private quarters. 'Nobody's around.' you think, entering a large corridor decorated with hunting trophies. They're all of dangerous animals like tigers and alligators. 'Perfect.'

CRASH!


The wall on the other side of the corridor shakes, plaster falling down like fine powder.

"You were saying?" Seyrun snarks before turning serious. "Boss, I think someone's fighting. And not with guns, but with old good metal."

'Fighting?' It's not one of yours, so the only possibility left is- 'Someone was there before us?'

"It's not impossible."

Uhm. May be troublesome. Or, it may be an opportunity.

Only one way to find out.

Watching your steps you reach the door at the end, open enough for you to pass and sneak past it. You find yourself on a platform looking down a large hall. Slowly you reach the rails and look down.

The sight is out of a fairy tale: in the middle of the hall there is a man in a knight's uniform, his large and fit body surrounded by a faint yellow and white light. He's also swinging around an hammer of brown stone as big as him like it weighs nothing.

But weigh a lot it must, because his opponent is dodging every blow with great care. Glowing softly with a pale silvery light, an actual cat-woman hybrid with white fur and glowing silver tattoos tries to retaliate by attacking with sharp-looking nails, but her blows don't seem to be much effective: there are many bleeding cuts on the man's body, but only a few seem really serious.

'Is that what I think it is?'

"A Dragonblooded fighting a Lunar? Damn straight it is. The Dragon most likely works for the Noble, while the Warden was probably sneaking around until the big guy found her."

Well, isn't this interesting? Now, how to best exploit it?

You could help the Lunar. The Dragonblooded is a common enemy, and unless her objective is irreconcilable with yours there is the possibility of gaining a contact to the Lunar's elusive society. You can pass as an Exalt dabbling in demon summoning, so she would have no reasons to think you work for Malfeas.

Helping the Dragonblooded...is suboptimal. It's true that the Lunar is an unknown, but he's obviously stronger than her. Plus he would immediately turn on you, and you don't want to use the Anuhles outside of an ambush.

Finally, killing both is probably even worse. They're likely to cooperate against a greater threat. You would need Blood Apes, not Anuhles to win.

You suppose there is the choice of letting them fight until the end, and hope the remaining one is too tired to pose a threat. But considering we're talking of Exalts...

[] Help the Lunar
[] Help the Dragonblooded
[] Attack them both
[] Let them fight
[] Write-in

====

Smaller update, but there wasn't much to add.
 
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A Detective's Big Break (GSP Manami Hamasaki by ReaperofInterest)
A Detective's Big Break
Manami Hamasaki was a self-proclaimed detective. She wasn't an official one, but she gladly took every chance she could to investigate things that might be associated with her biggest interest: magic. She knew that magic was real, as she had seen strange creatures suddenly pop into existence throughout her life, and had seen them cause things that had to have been magic. Of course, she only knew that magic was real. She didn't know how it worked, what people could use it, or what rules governed it's use. She knew that she didn't know this, and so she investigated. She was driven by a burning passion to discover all she could about magic.

One day, she hit the metaphorical jackpot. She saw a few people make...some kind of portal, and there was some kind of city through it! She approached them, hoping to ask if she could ask them a few questions. However, when one of them noticed her, the person ordered another something, and that person shot her. Right in the chest.

'Well. This is it. This is the end. I finally get a chance to find out more about magic, and I get shot. Well this is fan-frigging-tastic.'

Such were Manami's thoughts as she slowly bled to death. She had fallen face down, so she couldn't try to look around without incurring more pain. She was disappointed to say the least.

'I finally get the chance of a lifetime, a chance to finally discover more about magic, and I get shot. This is probably going to go down as one of the most anti-climactic deaths ever. I have to wonder though, who shot me? And why? And why am I so calm? Shouldn't I be panicking or denying my death? Or is this just shock?' Oh, who cares. Still, if I have just one regret, it's that I never found out as much as I wanted to about magic.'

"Hello, young madam."

The sound of an unknown voice caused Manami to violently twitch, which in turn caused her body to start protesting what had recently occurred VERY loudly. Groaning from the pain, she tried to move into a position where she could actually see who was talking to her, which only inflamed the agony she was experiencing. A pair of hands that felt...odd, somehow, helped her. When she finished moving, she was looking at...she wasn't sure what, only that it had the head of a cockroach, glowing yellow skin, and barbed fingernails. With Manami upright and looking at it, the creature took that as a signal to continue talking.

"Greetings, once again, young madam. I am Temaz, a humble Naneke, servant of the Yozis, and an offerer of a deal to you. It's really quite simple. If you pledge your service to aiding my masters escape from their prisons, I can grant you power, and a new lease of life."

'That...sounds too good to be true. There has to be some sort of downside to this offer. What is he not saying?'

"Why do I get the distince feeling that you're not telling me something?"

"With all due respect, don't you think that your position to ask such things might not be in the best of shape? I am, admittedly, no scholar of mortals, but you seem near death to me."

"That doesn't matter. Before I accept or reject your deal, answer my questions. First, will I gain any enemies because of this?"

"Yes, the forces of Heaven, and any who would work againt my masters' return. Are you sure you wish to-"

"Second, what kind of power will I get?"

"The power to do...essentially anything you put your mind to, after enough training. You look like your about to ex-"

"Third, who are the Yozis?"

"The Yozis, who were once known as the Primordials, are the ones who made the world, and all of it's systems. Child, y-"

"Does this include magic, and will I be able to study and learn it?"

"Yes, yes, and might I say-"

"I accept."

"Child, y-what?"

"I said I accept your offer."

"...You have no manners at all, do you? Very well. You have accepted, and I shall uphold my end of the bargain. Ugh, why do I feel that I am going to have to deal with rather more headaches?"

With that, the Naneke lunged at the dying girl, and after an instant, only a chrysalis remained to mark the existence of either.



Manami dreamed of order, of everything running in it's proper place. She dreamed of being able to find out whatever she wanted by just finding the appropriate file. She dreamed of a world where everything made sense, and she enjoyed that dream. But eventually, the dream ended. No, it was...consumed?

She was in her old high school. Ah, bittersweet memories. She remembered all the time she spent here, surrounded by people who completely disregarded the opportunity to learn, instead wasting their time on meaningless teenage drama. She remembered all the time she spent reading. She began to stroll, walking through the halls until she reached her destination: the library. She recalled all the fun she had in there, reading anything that caught her fancy. The only thing that ruined it was that people would interrupt her.

Walking through the door, she immediately noticed the giant plant in the middle of the room. It was bigger than her, it had teeth around the petals, and more importantly, it was eating the books!

"Ah, there you are! Come closer child, and tell me. Do you know who I am?"

Manami knew, deep in her bones, that while to disobey would mean unpleasant things, if she drew too close to that plant, it would gladly devour her. So, she cautiously walked closer, and answered.

"You...would be one of the Yozis, yes? They who were once the Priomordials, and made the world?"

"Correct! I am Metagaos, and I have been impressed by your hunger for knowledge! You are driven by your hunger, just as surely as I am driven by mine, and thus I have decided to bestow upon you my power, in exchange for your aid in freeing me from this prison!"

Bowing, she said "Thank you Lord Metagaos, I shall endeavor to make certain your faith has not been misplaced. If I my be so bold, how precisely do you want me to free you from your prison?"

The many-mouthed plant somehow managed to chuckle.

"That is really quite simple."

In my name, Metagaos the All-Hunger Blossom, go forth
And Take Creation back from the gods



Name: Manami Hamasaki
Age: 21
Image:

Motivation: Discover everything that Essence is capable of
Urge: Make a throne out of the Brittannian Imperial Throne, starmetal, and soulsteel forged from one of the Deathlords for yourself (Metagaoiyn)

Caste: Defiler
Patron: Metagaos
Anima Banner: A rose with sprawling vines, with thorns dripping some unknown liquid

Attributes: Strength 3, Dexterity 4, Stamina 3; Charisma 1, Manipulation 1, Appearance 4; Perception 4, Intelligence 3, Wits 3
Virtues: Compassion 3, Conviction 3, Temperance 4, Valor 2
Abilities: Melee 3, Integrity 2, Resistance 2, Survival 3, Craft (Fire) 2, Craft (Earth) 2, Investigation 3, Lore 4, Occult 3, Athletics 2, Awareness 2, Dodge 1, Stealth 2, Linguistics 1 (Native: Japanese, Old Realm), Ride/Drive 1

Backgrounds: Backing (Yozi) 1, Cult (Yozi) 1, Influence (Yozi) 1, Coadjutor (Temaz) 1
Coadjutor is a Naneke
Traits from Unwoven Coadjutor: Her nails are sharper, sharp enough to pierce skin

Essence: 2
Willpower: 7/7

Intimacies: Magic (Intense Fascination)(Positive)
Distractions (Irritation)(Negative)
Learning (Enjoyment)(Positive)
Mother (Love)(Positive)
Fathers (Love)(Positive)
Solving Mysteries (Pride)(Positive)
Loud Noises (Dislike)(Negative)
Being Lectured on Manners (Hatred)(Negative)

Metagaos Charms
First Metagaos Excellency, Second Metagaos Excellency
Cost: 1m/die; Mins: Essence 1; Type: Reflexive (Step 1 for attacker; Step 2 for defender)
Keywords: Combo-OK
Duration: Instant
Prerequisite Charms: None

Metagaos is a voracious hunter who lurks in plain sight within the jungle of his body, stalking his prey until they are ready to be devoured. He is cunning in his predation, easily tempting his quarry into the deceptive labyrinth of his bayous and glades, ensnaring them in traps from which there can be no escape. The ravening nature of the All-Hunger Blossom is concealed beneath false familiarity and fertile decadence until it is too late, allowing him to entice fresh fools into his waiting maw. These bloody sacrifices cannot quell his self-indulgent demands, for he is never satisfied. The Trackless Quag consumes everything within his insidious influence, and is himself consumed by countless diseases and parasites which infect and degrade body and mind alike, assimilating victims as surely as if Metagaos had eaten them whole.

This Excellency aids actions that provide the Infernal with something he wants at someone else's expense, helping him to seize or seduce appropriate offerings from others, be they wealth, information, or flesh. Attempts to acquire or improve sustenance always qualify. Such ruthless acquisitions are broken down and merged with their new owner, cannibalized for their juiciest parts. This Charm cannot benefit any act that emphasizes prudent planning over immediate indulgence, as Metagaos cannot abstain from what he desires, even for later gain.

PALATE WITHOUT LIMIT
Cost: 4m; Mins: Essence 2; Type: Simple
Keywords: Combo-OK
Duration: Indefinite
Prerequisite Charms: None

Putrefying offal and fine steak each have their merits, contemplated alongside all other flavours by the petal-tongues of the All-Hunger Blossom. While this Charm is active, the Exalt gains all the benefits of Keen Taste Technique and Unsurpassed Taste Discipline (Exalted, pp. 225-226). He may also receive the benefits of Keen Scent Technique by "tasting the air", tongue flickering out to sample the all-spice of the breeze. These benefits apply to rolls using Abilities other than Awareness.

Additionally, the Infernal's palate is refined beyond mortal comprehension, allowing him to ignore deleterious effects stemming from flavour or smell. Actual taste-based sensory rolls may even reveal basic details normally restricted to other avenues of perception, allowing the Infernal to determine someone's height and eye colour by licking up an errant drop of their sweat.


SPRAWLING MARSH INDULGENCE
Cost: —; Mins: Essence 1; Type: Permanent
Keywords: None
Duration: Permanent
Prerequisite Charms: None

Metagaos' body is a place of stinking and lush fertility, where life is lost within life. Upon learning this Charm, the character is altered in the following permanent ways:
• A natural affinity for the subtle movements of plants allows him to ignore penalties to movement or perception inflicted by obstructive vegetation, and the difficulty of any attempt to physically bypass or scale such obstacles is reduced by (Essence), to a minimum of one.
• He can ignore any Poison effect or environmental hazard stemming from vegetation. This immunity also applies to toxins and hazards produced by raw Wood Essence, such as the native magic of Wood Elementals or the anima flux of Wood Aspect Dragon-blooded.
• Any attempt to perceive him while he is using ambient vegetation to help conceal himself has its difficulty increased by (Essence ÷ 2). This increase is doubled if he has not moved since his DV last refreshed.
• His immune system becomes a welcoming and mutable thing, allowing him freely ignore the effects of any mundane Sickness currently afflicting him. The external symptoms of such diseases manifest as normal, and they remain just as contagious, but the warlock does not suffer and can still cure them.


HIDDEN PREDATOR CAMOUFLAGE
Cost: 5m; Mins: Essence 2; Type: Simple
Keywords: Combo-OK
Duration: Indefinite
Prerequisite Charms: Sprawling Marsh Indulgence

Things lurk in the muffled quiet of Hell's greyscale bayous. They are gone when you turn. While this Charm is active, the Infernal benefits from a supernatural camouflage, his every hue and scent merging with those of his surroundings. He is treated as having sufficient cover to hide himself regardless of where he is, and doubles the benefits of actual cover against attempts to locate him (Exalted, pp. 131). Characters can fail to detect the warlock even when he is right under their nose, assuming him to be nothing more than part of the terrain.

With Essence 3+, all attempts to perceive the Infernal with any sense halve their rolled successes if he has not moved, attacked or spoken since his DV last refreshed (or, when out of combat, in the last five seconds).

She Who Lives In Her Name Charms
First She Who Lives in Her Name Excellency, Second She Who Lives in Her Name Excellency

The Principle of Hierarchy is methodical and meticulous. She analyzes every variable and chooses the most efficient and orderly method by which to achieve victory. Her utilitarianism is absolute and consistent as clockwork. She is as brilliant as she is alien, cold and unfeeling. Her violence is dispassionate and perversely pure, unmotivated by sadism and yet capable of systematically disassembling every obstacle in her path without the slightest remorse. She builds and improves structures of all kinds and abhors chaos, randomness and free will in all its forms. She finds excessive effort wasteful and prefers to apply the minimum exertion necessary to attain the desired outcome. Her directives are fascist and totalitarian, but ruthlessly fair. She has no moral restraint against deception, nor any attachment to honesty, but her nature must choose the most expedient method even when it is not the solution that best matches her talents. She demands perfection, especially from herself.

Characters may apply this Charm to actions that create new order or reinforce existing order in any way, as well as actions that encourage others to join and loyally follow any hierarchical organization. She Who Lives In Her Name enhances efficient actions that demonstrate appropriate use of force; her power does not aid half-hearted or excessive efforts. Showing empathy for individuals invalidates that action for enhancement, though empathy toward society or another collective structure is permissible. The Charm enhances actions carried out methodically and logically but not improvised or unconventional solutions. Spreading chaos is never allowed, but ineffective organizations and policies may be dismantled to pave the way for a better order.

FACTUAL DETERMINATION ANALYSIS
Cost: 2m; Mins: Essence 2; Type: Reflexive
Keywords: Combo-OK

Duration: Instant
Prerequisite Charms: None

The Principle of Hierarchy recognizes the totality of truth. This Charm may be used to test any statement the Exalt reads or overhears and provides the Infernal with certain knowledge of whether the statement was presented as a complete truth. Any intentional deception or meaningful omission of relevant data in any part of the tested statement returns the same negative response, so it is best to test a long statement frequently to isolate where the truth breaks down.
If this Charm contests another, add the Infernal's Essence rating in bonus successes to the roll-off. Truth is measured from the perspective of the speaker rather than based on objective truth. Factual Determination Analysis does not supply the truth along with its binary measure.

Essence-Dissecting Stare
Cost: Special (see below); Mins: Essence 2; Type: Simple
Keywords: Combo-Basic
Duration: One hour
Prerequisite Charms: Factual Determination Analysis

She Who Lives In Her Name sees all that matters. This Charm duplicates the benefits of All-Encompassing Sorcerer's Sight (see Exalted, p. 222) apart from its type and duration. The cost to activate this Charm is (8 - [lower of Perception or Occult]) motes normally or zero motes if the Infernal has Essence 6+.

Counter-Conceptual Interposition
Cost: 8m; Mins: Essence 2; Type: Reflexive (Step 2)
Keywords: Combo-OK, Obvious, Shaping
Duration: Instant
Prerequisite Charms: Essence-Dissecting Stare

Faced with any physical attack, the Principle of Hierarchy may reshape reality to produce a phenomenon or event capable of neutralizing the attack. This Charm is a perfect parry against any attack
the Infernal can perceive, even unblockable attacks. The default manifestation is an orb of crystalline fire that appears in the path of the attack, shattering to stop the blow or projectile just before it hits the Exalt.
Where the sphere shatters, a ripple of bent space flows out like a stone dropped into a pond. It is possible to manifest any instant duration effect that could provide a parry, however, such as a spray of water to snuff out a firewand's torrent or a concussive thunderclap that knocks aside an incoming arrow. Such variations are stunts, so creative use can reduce the cost of the Charm to match the perfect defenses of other Yozis. Counter-Conceptual Interposition is vulnerable to the Imperfection of the Principle of Hierarchy.

Mind-Hand Manipulation
Cost: 10m; Mins: Essence 2; Type: Simple
Keywords: Combo-OK, Obvious, Sorcerous
Duration: Indefinite
Prerequisite Charms: Essence-Dissecting Stare

The spinning orbs of She Who Lives In Her Name have no hands with which to grapple and impose order on the world. They are not so crude. With this Charm active, the Infernal may move other objects with his mind as though manipulating them with his own body, exerting force or even lifting objects and carrying them through the air at speeds up to his own current velocity. His telekinesis trails Obvious ripples of spatial distortion and white light as prehensile tendrils of mental force. This Charm has a Dexterity equal to his Willpower and a Strength equal to his Essence. The associated Ability to use this Charm is Occult, whether for attacking with direct force or hurling objects, or to determine effective (Strength + Athletics) total for a mind-powered feat of strength. If a floating weapon is wielded this way, the Ability is the lower rating of the normal trait and Occult, and all actions using the weapon suffer a -3 external penalty. Unlike most Sorcerous Charms, the Essence for this Charm must be committed, but the effect may also be terminated at will by ending this commitment. Mind-Hand Manipulation can move perceived incorporeal beings and objects, but its effective Strength is halved.
Moving objects with Mind-Hand Manipulation requires the same actions as doing so normally. All actions suffer range penalties like an attack with a range interval of (Willpower + Essence). Objects that have been lifted into the air fall when the action taken to move them ends, though up to (Essence) separate objects may be held stationary between actions, reflexively levitated through force of will. Grabbing anything that resists requires a clinch attack, but opponents who win control of a clinch do not get to grapple the Exalt and may only choose to escape. Moreover, clinches can only be maintained with renewed control rolls as normal, so victims can't be held aloft with merely reflexive effort. Unlike most ranged attacks, telekinesis granted by this Charm may be used defensively to deflect projectiles and weaken blows, as represented by the parry option provided by the Charm's Defense rating.
Infernals with Essence 3+ add a third attack option, in which they can focus their mental force to scalpel sharpness with which to vivisect those who displease or intrigue them. Repurchase of this Charm at Essence 4+ allows an Infernal to spend one Willpower whenever a telekinetic attack would inflict two or more actual levels of damage. Invoking this power replaces all damage with a Crippling amputation of the Exalt's choice. Such injuries self-seal as though cauterized and do not even bleed. Telekinetically wielded weapons can't amputate victims this way. All of the attack options granted by this Charm ignore Hardness from armor.

Telekinetic Blow: Speed 5, Accuracy (Willpower + Occult), Damage (Essence)B/3B, Defense (Willpower + Occult), Rate (Essence up to 5), Range (Willpower + Essence). Tags: O
Telekinetic Clinch: Speed 6, Accuracy (Willpower + Occult), Damage (Essence)B/3B, Rate 1, Range (Willpower + Essence). Tags: O
 
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A Hedonist's Ambition (GSP Slaanesh by Enjou)
Gentlemen! BEHOLD! I have made an INFERNAL! And it's 100% GM approved! *cackles maniacally*

A Hedonist's Ambition

*crack* "YES!" *crack* "AGAIN!" *crack* "MORE! MORE! MORE!"

"Enough." the Demjen commanded, sighing in frustration. "This clearly isn't having the intended effect."

"What!? No, don't stop!" the assumed victim cried out, struggling in her restraints as the Erymanthoi ceased whipping her. "You were just getting good! I never knew pain could be so... oh, what's the word I'm looking for? Ah! Exquisite! Yes, the pain was exquisite! Lady Zinveka, tell him to continue."

Zinveka, Citizen of Malfeas, rubbed her fingers against her temples as she sensed an oncoming migraine. "Where did I go wrong? You were always such a quiet girl, the most obedient of my demon-blooded servants. I give you one sip of chalcanth as a reward for your good service, and you've been misbehaving ever since. Breaking into the wine cellar, harassing my consorts, stealing my fresh malice-nuts. I'll have you know that you have to sacrifice an anuhle just to make the tree grow the damn things! And now you try to kill me? After everything I've done for you?"

Zinveka pointed at her angyalkae, who were playing fervently. "I provide you with music to keep the Silent Wind away." She pointed at the ceiling. "I provide you with shelter and light, so that the Night will not take your sense of self away and so that the heat of Great Ligier will not overburden you." She pointed to a window, outside of which was a garden. "I provide you with food so that you will not go hungry. And..." she pointed at the nymph bound in a rather uncomfortable position on top of a small pyramid, tears of pain endlessly coming from its eyes and flowing into a trough as the poor thing sobbed. "...I provide you with precious water, a rare commodity in the Demon City. Do you have any idea how many decades of effort it took me to capture a water elemental? Longer than you've been alive, I assure you.

"This and more I provide to you and all my demon-blooded servants, and all I ask in exchange is your prayers, obedience, and loyalty. Few others in the Demon City could offer you better comforts, and fewer still would be willing to do so. Are you not thankful?" Zinveka asked, outrage apparent in her voice.

The captive girl nodded fervently, smiling the whole time. "Of course, Lady Zinveka. I'm quite grateful for everything you've given me." There wasn't an iota of dishonesty in her tone, nor a shred of deceit in her features.

Zinveka gaped at the girl. She had expected pleas for mercy, lies of false loyalty, really anything but this! "Then why? Did someone put you up to this? Threaten you?"

"Oh no, of course not, Lady Zinveka, as if I would ever sell you out to someone else. That would be rude." the demon-blooded girl stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Then why did you try to kill me!?" the irate demon screamed.

"Because I want to become a citizen, of course." the girl stated, smiling happily.

"What? I... what? Fuck... just explain yourself." Zinveka said, letting out an exasperated sigh.

"Well, you see, it really did start with that chalcanth you gave me. I'm really grateful for that, because it's what made me wake up and realize the truth." the girl nodded, speaking as if she were preaching sage wisdom.

"And that truth is?" Zenvika asked, honestly curious.

"That life is not worth living without great sensations! The food and water you give us is enough to let us survive comfortably, but it's dreadfully bland. But the chalcanth? That was something else! It was the most interesting thing I'd ever tasted. Truly it was enlightening. How could I live knowing I might never experience something as grand as that again? And even if you might give me some again later, I would still have to content myself with the bland and boring things I was accustomed to.

"Quite honestly, I'd rather die than allow myself to live like that. I couldn't go back to how things where before, so I thought long and hard about it. Stealing things managed to sate my thirsts for a while, but it was just never enough. A bottle of wine one week, a romp with a consort the next, some stolen malice-nuts here and there... well, it was just too long for me to wait. So I figured there was only one solution - if I became a citizen, I could become rich and luxuriate in all kind of sensations whenever I wanted!"

Zinveka actually thought it made an odd sort of sense. Could she go back to the days when she was a serf, simply struggling to survive? Could she return to a life without luxury? Most certainly not. Not a single citizen she knew would willingly let go of one scrap of power or status. "I see. In short, you intended to pry my wealth and power from my cold, dead hands."

"Exactly! I knew you'd get it, Lady Zinveka. The strong rule the weak. Everyone knows that! If I wanted to become a citizen, I would first have to prove my strength. So how better to do that than by killing a citizen? Now, I'd have rather gone after someone else, but when would I have the opportunity? It's not like I can march into another citizen's home and murder them easily, right? So you were the obvious target. I needed to kill you and take everything that was yours. I'm dreadfully sorry that it makes us enemies, but there wasn't much choice in the matter. I had to do it, because even if I died in the attempt it would be better than living a boring life lacking in sensation." The girl's smile had turned slightly sad, but then she perked up again.

"Well then, I suppose you'll have to kill me now. Given I'm your enemy and I tried to murder you, it's not like you can let me live, right? It would be weakness to show me mercy for such an offense, so that's right out."

Zinveka frowned. Sad, but true. She was fond of the girl, but there was no helping it. "Yes, you'll have to die. It would be a poor example to the other servants if I let you live."

"Yup! Oh, I don't suppose you could have have tall, red, and muscular over there whip me to death? I'd like to die feeling strong sensations." She nodded at the Blood Ape holding the whip. "You know, if I get out of this somehow and make it big, would you like to become my torturer, big guy? I'll need a torturer, if I'm a citizen, after all. Every proper citizen has a torturer." The Erymanthoi chuckled in amusement.

"Fine, whatever, just try to pretend not to be enjoying it, will you? By the Scales of Oramus, I wash my hands of this madness." Zinveka sighed again. "Now if you'll excuse me..."

"No, I don't think so." A new, masculine voice stated with authority.

"Who dares...!?" Zenvika's objections died in her mouth as she turned around, seeing who the one who had entered her home uninvited was. Before her was a tall, half-naked man with eyes of brass and brass horns sticking out of the side of his head. He wore a loincloth of human skin and a headdress made of human hair, and blood was painted over his body. Zenvika bowed, fearing for her very existence. "Great Unquestionable, to what do I owe the honor of your presence?"

Hrotsvitha, the Spawning Forest, Ninth Soul of Isidoros, ignored the mere citizen. She was of no consequence to him, at least at this moment. Instead, he eyed the bound demon-blooded girl hanging upside down from the ceiling. He regarded her carefully, while she simply smiled back at him curiously.

"You smell of my blood. A daughter of mine, perhaps? Yes, I think so. I think I remember your mother - she had pretty eyes, and you have inherited them. Rutting with her was quite pleasant." Zenvika tried and failed at not gasping at the Spawning Forest's avatar's ponderings. She had just about put an Unquestionable's child to death? "It matters not, though. I have too many children for me to count. What is important is that you have been chosen."

He pointed to the demon of the first circle standing at his side, a beautiful huntress with skin of brass and pure white hair. "This one is Zarakynel, a favored servant of mine. Within her is a great power. You will accept this power, and you will use it to free the Yozis and all the demon race from their imprisonment. Do you understand, girl?"

The girl nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, yes, that sounds absolutely fantastic."

"Excellent, then let us..."

"But I would like to make one small request, if you wouldn't mind!" she proclaimed exuberantly. Everyone gaped in shock that the girl had dared to interrupt an Unquestionable. Even the musicians stopped playing, ever so briefly, before their fear of the Silent Wind demanded they continue.

Hrotsvitha simply took it in stride. "Very well, though you will spend the next day in a Punishment Sphere for your impudence."

"Well... that sounds fun!"

Hrotsvitha blinked. This girl confounded even him, apparently. "Name your condition." he commanded.

So she did.

Hrotsvitha burst out laughing. "Yes, you are my daughter, I think. You may have what you desire."

=====​

She was a Peer of Malfeas! A Green Sun Princess! She had a palace filled with the finest luxuries the Demon City had to offer. Fine wines, fine foods, drugs, concoctions, concubines and consorts of all kinds! And it was hers, all hers for the rest of her days! Oh, sure, she had to work for it, but those who don't work don't eat, as they say.

She luxuriated at the feeling of the cushions she rested on, so soft and silky, as she watched the demon dancers perform for her.

"Oh! This is so delightful! I should bring one of them to bed with me tonight. Which should I choose? The male is delightfully muscular, but the female has a fine figure. Which to pick, which to pick..."

"My lady, you are still thinking like a servant. There is no reason you can't have both."

She gasped. How could she not think of something so obvious? "That's brilliant, Zarakynel! Why not have both?" She giggled with delight, and then took a sip from her glass of bone wine. It wasn't chalcanth, but it was delightful in its own way. Then she frowned. Something was off? What was it... and then it dawned on her. She looked over, and saw that Zenvika wasn't screaming anymore, even as her Erymanthoi torturer continued whipping her.

Getting up, she walked over to her captive Demjen. "What's the matter, Zenvika? Why aren't you screaming anymore? I know you're not dead."

"Please... PLEASE!" the tortured demon gasped. "Just... just end it."

"Now Zenvika, you know how this works, right? You and I are enemies, and you tried to have me killed. By whipping me to death, no less! I can't very well show mercy. That would show weakness, and any enemies I might have gained by attaining my new position would pounce on that. It just can't be allowed. You know that. But... well, I suppose just this once couldn't hurt."

Zenvika looked up, feeling hope for the first time in days. The Green Sun Princess had decided to show mercy. Her torment would end. But then she saw that her former servant had her finger on her lips, and was looking upward as if in thought on what to do next.

"Ah!" she clapped, smiling as an epiphany took hold. "I know just what to do. I've never had greater chalcanth before, and I'm sure you'll be able to slate my thirst for new sensations for a while!" She turned to her torturer. "Take her to a chalcanth brewer and have her distilled. Now, if you'll excuse me I just remembered that it's about time for my audience with Mighty Hegra. I wonder what she wants..."

The Blood Ape bowed. "It shall be done, Lady Slaanesh."

Name: Slaanesh
Epithets: She Who Thirsts
Age: ?? (Apparent Age: 17)
Motivation: To experience greater and greater sensations.
Urge: To cause unrest in Britannia by dragging nobles into public scandals. (Isidorite)
Caste: Fiend
Patron: Isidoros
Anima Banner: A laughing huntress cavorting through a forest of brass.
Attributes: Strength 2, Dexterity 3, Stamina 2, Charisma 3, Manipulation 3, Appearance 5, Perception 2, Intelligence 2, Wits 4
Virtues: Compassion 2, Conviction 5, Temperance 1, Valor 2
Abilities: Archery/Firearms 2, Awareness 3, Bureaucracy 1, Integrity 2, Larceny 3, Linguistics (Native: Old Realm, Malfean Dialect. Japanese, English) 2, Lore 1, Presence 3, Performance 2, Resistance 3, Socialize 2 (Demons 2), Survival 2 (Malfeas 1)
Backgrounds: Backing (Yozi) 1, Cult (Yozi) 1, Influence (Yozi) 1, Coadjutor (Zarakynel) 3, Mentor (Hrotsvitha) 5
Essence: 2
Willpower: 7

Traits from Unwoven Coadjutor: Her hair is pure white. (-0)

Charms
Isidoros
First Isidoros Excellency
Indomitable Hedonism Drive
Unbothered By Flies
Arousing Indelicate Passions
Raw Whimsy Diligence

Ebon Dragon
First Ebon Dragon Excellency
Cracked Shell Circumvention
Loom-Snarling Deception
Witness to Darkness
Our Little Secret

Hegra
First Hegra Excellency

A/N - You may flee Creation now. I'd suggest Australia for the Wyld Zone, but Chaos won't be of much help to you here. :rofl:
A/N 2 - As a member of the Fiend Caste, Lelouch is responsible for training her! :V
 
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Omake - Deadly Things Come In Small Packages (Canon)
Deadly Things Come In Small Packages

Geoffrey Althaus took a deep, contented breath of fresh air as he took his customary morning stroll through his mansion gardens. He could already tell it would be a beautiful day from the dawn sunlight just barely peaking in over the grounds' walls and through its trees, and the gentle tweeting of birds only contributed to the small piece of perfection he was enjoying.

Of course, he knew his current sense of peace wouldn't last- he was scheduled for political and business meetings through almost the entire day- but that was why he took these walks. To pretend, even for just a short while, that all was right with the world.

Stopping a short way from the walls, he looked up to the sky, half closed his eyes, and smiled. It truly was a beautiful morning, with such a wonderful feeling in the air-

"Dragonblood."

-Geoffrey snapped out of his reverie the moment he heard the calm, unfamiliar voice. 'Who? No, how?' He thought, alarm flaring through him. This was his private estate- there should be no way for someone he didn't know to enter it! And to call him Dragonblood…

It took him less than a second to spin to face the direction the voice had come from, body already tensing and readying to fight- but the moment he saw who had spoken, he paused.

Sat on a small boulder, drinking some sort of soup out of a simple cylindrical cup, was a young girl- probably not much more than twelve years old, from the look of her. She was wearing a plain white shirt and knee length purple skirt, and had her hair cut into a bob with long bangs that reached almost to her chin and mostly covered one eye, though not enough to hide it or its companion's deep red iris. A slight shift of her head as she lowered the cup from her lips revealed enough of her features for Geoffrey to identify her as an Eleven.

'No, that's not right.' He realised after a second; he'd been in Area 11 long enough to recognise Elevens, and whilst the girl before him looked similar she definitely wasn't one. Korean, or Chinese, perhaps? Not that it really mattered; what was important was that the girl was either shockingly ignorant of the meaning of what she had just uttered, or far more than she appeared. And seeing as she'd broken into his estate, he was willing to bet on the latter.

Slowly, he began to edge his hand toward the personal alarm he carried in his pocket; even if mere mortal soldiers wouldn't be able to do much against whatever this girl was, together with him perhaps-

"Don't bother." She spoke again, cutting him off with both her words and a piercing stare. No, not piercing- that would have implied she was putting effort into it. Instead, she simply looked at him and he felt as if her gaze was boring deep into his soul. Apparently uncaring of the effect she was having on him, she continued, "One of my subordinates had your security systems malfunction, and altered the guard schedule. You're completely alone."

Ignoring her words, Geoffrey abandoned subtlety and yanked the alarm from his pocket nonetheless- but it seemed she hadn't been lying, as nothing happened when he tried to activate it. Looking up from the useless electronics to the unconcerned girl, he narrowed his eyes and demanded, "How? I have wards, checks."

"It's simple." The girl said, in that same empty, uncaring tone, before lazily reaching up a hand and tapping her own forehead.

For a moment Geoffrey simply looked at her, uncomprehending, before his blood suddenly ran cold. "No…" He said, staring at her with eyes wide as he stumbled back, sudden fear overwhelming the surge of hatred and anger he knew he should have felt. 'I, I could shout for help? No, she said the guards are nowhere near.' "You… you're…"

"Yes." The girl cut him off bluntly. She fell silent for a moment, apparently giving his whirling mind a chance to come to terms with his situation, with exactly what was sitting before him, before stating simply, "I'm here with a choice. Either agree to be bound by oath into my service and the service of my master, or I kill you before you can take three paces."

"You… but… why?" Geoffrey stammered, before swallowing and forcing himself to regain his composure. He Dragonblooded, and one from the lines of Britannia no less- such displays were beneath him! Steadying his footing once more, he glared at her and tried to forget his fear as he demanded, "Why come to me? Out of all the Dragonbloods, why come to me? Why think I would serve you, Anathema?"

The last word came out as a hiss, but if it bothered the creature before him she didn't show it; instead, she simply raised her cup to her lips and closed her eyes as she took a long, shallow sip. A part of him insisted he should use the opportunity she was giving him, to try and run or try and kill her, but he held himself back; if she was willing to show moments of weakness to him, it meant he was small enough of a threat to her that she could afford to show them. He was still tempted to try anyway, just on the small chance it might succeed… but then the moment passed, as she lowered the cup and opened her eyes again.

"You got too close. Even if you didn't know what it was, you saw evidence of my subordinate's work." She said, her tone still empty and uncaring. "And so you must be removed. One way or another."

'I saw her subordinate's work? What does she mean-' Geoffrey wondered, before it suddenly occurred to him what she had to be referring to; a certain strange pattern of behaviour he'd noticed recently amongst some of the mortal Britannian nobles. Whilst it was nothing too far out of the ordinary, it had still been enough to catch his curiosity just a little and prompt him to probe a little deeper…

…and that, apparently, had been enough to bring an Anathema to his doorstep. Geoffrey took a moment to silently curse his own foolishness, before a possible way out occurred to him. Narrowing his eyes, he glared at the girl, clenched his fists, and said, "You're bluffing. You just want to fool me into making that oath. If you kill me there'll be an investigation and they'll just find out about you anywa-"

"No, they won't." The girl interrupted him, and the certainty in her tone made his heart sink; apparently, he was wrong. The girl's empty, unnerving gaze bored into him as she continued. "Anybody who investigates your death will find evidence leading back to one of your rivals. Anybody who becomes suspicious of that will find evidence leading to two of their rivals. If someone can see through that… well, then perhaps we deserve to be found."

"In short, the only reason you're not already dead is you might be more useful as a living servant." She concluded. Pausing, she closed her eyes and slowly brought her cup to her lips, taking another long, slow sip. Then, the moment she'd lowered it her eyes snapped open and locked onto his, and in a cold, flat tone she stated, "Choose."

For a long moment, Geoffrey considered accepting. The girl's unnatural attitude and certainty, what she'd implied about her nature… he knew without a doubt she wasn't bluffing about her intentions or her abilities. If he refused, he would die. It was that simple. And yet…

Taking a deep breath, Geoffrey gathered his courage and shook his head. "No." He said, straightening his back and standing tall and proud.

"No." He repeated, narrowing his eyes. He was of the house of Althaus- he would not disgrace his family's legacy by surrendering to the monster before him. Settling down into the stance of the Golden Janissary, his voice was filled with absolute certainty as he repeated for a final time, "No."

In response, the girl simply regarded him for a moment before sighing quietly, standing, and saying, "So be it."

With a simple jerking motion, she pushed the heel of her hand up and sent her cup flying into the air- not in a tumbling motion, but simply travelling straight up. 'A distraction?' He thought, forcing himself not to follow the cup with his eyes. Instead, he kept his focus on the girl as she crouched and brought her hands together, obviously preparing to attack. And the next moment? She launched herself forward.

Geoffrey knew the attack was coming. He was braced, and ready. Had Charms prepared and ready to activate with a single thought. Within his limits? His defence was perfect.

It didn't make any difference.

There was a blur of movement, a flare of essence emptying from his reserves, a sharp tugging sensation at his waist, and then he was falling. The morning sky filled his vision, and then his back hit the floor. He immediately tried to move, knowing that lying on the floor would just get him killed, tried to stand-

'-oh.' There was really nothing else he could think as the realisation of what had just happened set in. Bending his neck, he looked down his body to where his feet had been. Had been.

Now, however, his body simply ended at his waist, his blood spilling out onto the grass from the ugly wound. He shuddered as a hacking, bloody cough choked its way out of his lips, sending painful jolts through what was left of his body, before a shape moved into the corner of his vision- the girl who'd just killed him, looking down at him with empty, uncaring eyes.

As he watched, she swept her sword- a monstrous daiklave with a blade over a foot and a half taller than she was- off to the side, sending his blood flying off the edge. Then she swung it up and rested it across her shoulders, before reaching out with a hand, palm up-

-and catching the cup she'd flung into the air just before she attacked. A quick twist of her wrist caught the droplets trailing behind it and kept it from spilling, before she brought it up her mouth and closed her eyes as she took another long, shallow drink. Lowering the cup after several seconds, she breathed in and closed her eyes as an expression of contentment appeared on her face-

-then without ceremony she spun on her heel, her daiklave fading away into nonexistence as she turned her back on him, and began walking away.

The back of his uncaring killer, not even finding him worthy of the attention needed to watch him die, was the final sight of his dying eyes.
 
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Slaanesh-chan's Analysis
While I find the whole Slaanesh Fiend idea absolutely hilarious, I suspect they're just ultimately going to be downright incompatible and wind up with Lelouch putting her down/imprisoning her without any sensation for eternity. Ultimately, she represents Excess more than anything else, so it's really easy for me to envision her taking whatever rivalry/relationship she'll wind up having with Lelouch too far and trying to involve Nunally or something else Lelouch decides is Unforgivable. In which case you can bet your ass Lelouch is going to utilize everything he has either to kill her, or just plain make her suffer.

Just to go in a little detail to clarify some things...

- Most importantly, while Slaanesh-chan is heavily inspired by the Chaos God from 40k, she isn't her/him/it. She is a human being. She has human emotions and thoughts. Those are of course influenced by her being raised in a Malfean culture, but it doesn't make her completely inhuman.

- Even though she's a sadomasochist, she's not a sociopath. She has Compassion 2, a normal rating for a human being. She has the capacity to understand and care about others. She hasn't really cared deeply about anyone before, but that's due to losing her mother early on and Malfeas not being a particularly caring place. She was fond of her former master, but not so much that betraying her was unthinkable - the relationship was not one of equals, after all, and Slaanesh-chan decided to be ambitious. That said, she understands preferences to an extent, and that most people don't like pain - that's something that's abundantly clear in Hell, as most go out of their way to avoid it. Unlike the Chaos God, she's not going to torture someone just because she likes torture. Mind you, she does, but either you need to be an enemy or you need to be into that kind of thing. When enemies aren't involved, she has more fun when everyone else is having fun.

- Her Maflean upbringing has had some interesting effects on what she regards as acceptable, and social hierarchy plays into that. Hierarchy is important in Malfeas, after all, and one does not generally survive long by ignoring that. For instance, she was willing to steal from her own master. She knew she'd be punished for it, but she was willing to go through the punishment to get what she wanted. On the other hand, she wouldn't steal from a different citizen unless ordered to. Getting caught at that could start a war, and the punishment would be far worse - one could be very well put to death to appease the offended party, or traded away to them.

Additionally, she would never sell out her benefactor to a third party. She stated it was rude, but it's also stupid. Even if she traded up by betraying her old master to a new one, the new one wouldn't trust her because she's obviously mercenary enough to betray them to another as well. She couldn't trust her new master, and her new master couldn't trust her. Trust is a valuable commodity in any long term relationship, which is especially true in a place where the threat of death is constant. While it might well be contradictory to that, she was willing to betray her master for her own personal gain, as she was essentially looking to become her own master to get the lifestyle she wanted, but only because there really wasn't any other way she could see doing that - if there was a better way, she'd have gone for that, but usurping your master is strangely valid in Malfeas as ambition is well understood.

Now, what this means for how she'll see Lelouch and Nunnally is important. Lelouch is her senior Peer and the Marshal of the Althing. He's got temporary authority over her, and even after that he's still first among equals. Nunnally on the other hand is a bog standard mortal, but she is Lelouch's sister. While Slaanesh-chan doesn't quite understand family (it's not a normal practice in Malfeas) she would note that Lelouch is extremely protective of Nunnally, so in her mind she'd understand that in some form or fashion that Nunnally belongs to him. Since he's her social equal and a person of great power, that means that trying anything with her without his permission would possibly be grounds for him to start a war with her, and she wouldn't want to make an enemy of him over a normal mortal girl. There's plenty of those to go around, after all. The worst she'd likely do to Nunnally is flirt, and Nunnally would probably be oblivious to it.

Lelouch and the other Peers she'd be completely shameless with, though she wouldn't do anything to them that she thinks would make an unnecessary enemy out of any of them. She's going to drive Lelouch up a wall, but she's not likely to make him an enemy.

Or at least that's my take on her, but she's in Alexander's hands now.


... that plan is rather terrible. Its going to lose us our spider buddies for no gain.

What we should do it place an ambush between the location we are at and where the dragon blooded is at. That way when we attack from ambush with our long ranged option if he charges at us we can ambush him again with a bunch of melee fighter all of a sudden. Perhaps even get him a little tangled in some webbing that he hadn't noticed before because of its location behind or underneath something.

Effectively giving the Lunar a chance to land a killing blow by giving her an opening.

The plan is fine. The Anuhles have 13 health tracks before being incapacitated, and a soak of 7L/8B. It's not likely that the Dragonblooded can kill any of them in one blow, especially considering he's fighting multiple opponents which includes to Celestial Exalts.
 
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