Modern Raksha
Alexander89
Pet the pretty kitty? Y/N
- Location
- Italy
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.
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.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
I go instead with the Raksha version that appears on Ink Monkeys:
Having read this, what is the Raksha's situation in this modern world?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.
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?
