Ravanayana [Exalted/Aberrant]
- Thread starter Havocfett
- Start date
- Sci-Fi Fantasy
Sirrocco
Pedantic
I do have a few concerns about Metagaos. Could someone with more system knowledge please address them?
- "You also get hungry very, very quickly" - honestly, that one worries me a touch. What does it *mean*, though?
- The fact that he's apparently constantly infecting people with parasites. If he hits someone with a parasite (as collateral damage, because they happen to be nearby when he's handing the things out or whatever) and he then wanders off and never sees them again, what kind of an effect is that going to have on their lives? Ravana to me has always been about possibly turning his own life into a dumpster fire, but generally not dragging other folks down with him. Is this inherently going to change that?
Also, could we get a vote tally? It's gotten to the point where a hand-tally would be kind of a hassle, and I do not have functional access to the tally software.
- "You also get hungry very, very quickly" - honestly, that one worries me a touch. What does it *mean*, though?
- The fact that he's apparently constantly infecting people with parasites. If he hits someone with a parasite (as collateral damage, because they happen to be nearby when he's handing the things out or whatever) and he then wanders off and never sees them again, what kind of an effect is that going to have on their lives? Ravana to me has always been about possibly turning his own life into a dumpster fire, but generally not dragging other folks down with him. Is this inherently going to change that?
Also, could we get a vote tally? It's gotten to the point where a hand-tally would be kind of a hassle, and I do not have functional access to the tally software.
I'llNameThisL8r
Bad at names
- Location
- Here
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Do you want a link to a homebrew charmset for him to read yourself or like a small summary?
W/r/t the hunger thing, iirc some charms in his *cough* tree revolve around hunger penalty accumulation and the reduction of those penalties, like you would get hungrier, and accumulate hunger penalties, faster than normal for your stamina but could ignore them to get food, for instance.
I should note that most of the problems that those charms cause can be solved by carrying around a bag of pretzels and snacking on them, basically.
Last edited:
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I'm trying to avoid explicit game mechanics because that became a problem last time, the basics of it are:
You start starving after a day and it gets worse every day after that
You can't really starve to death
You use/reduce hunger for various other Metagaos stuff
You ignore hunger while trying to feed. Fighting generally counts as feeding, as Metagaos slowly pulls your combat style towards eating people.
Your parasites don't really affect anyone unless they aim to actively hinder you, you order the parasite to hurt them, or you implant a trigger that would do so. A surgeon might note them as a benign cyst. This will not inherently change that.
Thanks!
If you voted for Jagganath, you may want to switch your vote, it's far enough behind that it's unlikely to pull ahead.
Thanks!
- Location
- [REDACTED]
[X] "Every Dalit you've ever killed."
Ravana has spent most of his life angry, in pain, or angry and in pain. Becoming an Infernal doesn't change who you are, fundamentally - it amplifies it.
Ravana has spent most of his life angry, in pain, or angry and in pain. Becoming an Infernal doesn't change who you are, fundamentally - it amplifies it.
Evaunit02mark1
S-s-smell the Prey, S-s-start the Hunt.
[X] "Can't you hear it? I'm the Monster."
I do believe the Gravemind said it best.
"I am a monument to all your sins."
I do believe the Gravemind said it best.
"I am a monument to all your sins."
Kill My Landlord
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Kill My Landlord
"Can't you hear it?" you say, exulting in the gaze of the terrified masses, in the spasming of sorcerous scent as cameras fail and divinations turn wrong, as Jutayu begins to comprehend that he's lost, "I'm the monster."
"I've killed many monsters," says Jutayu, voice cutting through the panic of the crowd, quieting their whispers as they wait for their hero to save them. But you see something they don't, for the first time in the fight you see confusion, unsteadiness. For the first time in the fight, he doesn't know what you're going to do next.
You smile, a wicked thing with four mouths and far too many teeth. Then you raise a hand, snap your fingers, and say, "Eat Him."
Something spasms in Jutayu's chest. A sorcerous tumor of bile, flesh, and teeth, seizing to life as you give the command. His eyes go wide as it takes the first bite, as it latches onto his guts and begins to tear away. His knees buckle, his stance dips as the first drops of blood begin to seep through his teeth, as centuries of age and pain and injury begin to crack through that perfect, hateful facade.
You hop down from your perch and stride towards him. Into the shredding gales of his anima. The barrages of wind and cutting vacuum he throws your way. Fists flash, teeth gnash, and each of them comes to naught. Every barrage he throws at you is less coordinated than the last until, finally, he swings.
Space vanishes. He's on you in an instant, a gauntlet racing towards your skull. You trade blows, teeth fly, blood soars, pain lances across your jaw. But yours are replaced in an instant, fangs sliding into place as shattered molars fall from your mouth. Jutayu simply heaves, blood and shattered teeth pouring forth as machinery and exaltation reach their limit.
He rises for another blow and you kick him into, through, a shrine to Bhaga, and continue your walk as the crowds part before you. They mutter prayers, curses, ask for salvation from the demon that walks among them, salvation for their lord, salvation for a man who hasn't deserved it in a century or more.
You ignore them. Step through Bhaga's inner sanctum, pull a banana from its spike and swallow it whole as you pass his offerings. You'll have to make amends for the blasphemy, eventually, but you've an image to sell.
Besides, you've never liked Bhaga much.
Jutayu has just pulled himself up when you step through the shrine's exit wound. His hair is a debris-riddled mess, whispy threads hanging over his face and neck. Bruises mar his body, steel skin cracks and splinters, while shattered machinery spills distilled essence upon the ground. One arm twitches and threatens to fall from its guard, and his legs barely support his weight. But even now his eyes blaze with defiance and the final words of a prayer leave his lips.
"-Durga, Omnipotent, Omnipresent, guide my arms," he intones, "Allow me my greatest weapon, bane of Rakshasa, final salvation of your Most Devoted."
You leap. Metal skin deforms against your fist. Blood sprays, wind lashes. But the prayer finishes regardless.
"The Void-Blade of the Garuda," he coughs, shooting an arm into the air as wind coalesces about it, his voice regaining his strength, "Arunastra!" Light dies and air flees, a tear, a visible void in space coalescing around his fist. Lengthening, widening, until it is a meter long and half as wide, a great blade of lethal, murderous nothing.
Then you bite off his arm at the elbow. He screams. The Blade flickers and dies, and as he sags the people gasp because they know you have won. You grab his head, pull it close until your mouth, your true mouth, rests by his ear.
"For Indrajit" you whisper.
Then your chest yawns open, and you bite his head off. A tongue pulls the cortical stack from his skull. Metal fades as the body slumps to the floor, as you spit the pulped skull onto the ground beside it. Sorcerous brass and grim determination replaced with the pained grimace of an old man. A keening wail pierces the air, then another, and a dozen more, as the onlookers realize what has happened.
You turn away from the body, towards the screaming, mourning crowd. The mass of innocents who just saw you murder their protector, their leader, perhaps even their grandfather, or great-grandfather. You raise your arms, for you have a role to sell, and a message to send, and you speak.
"All glory to Lanka!" you bellow, "All glory to the Yozi! All glory to the All-Hunger Blossom! Mourn, and tell others! I will return!"
And you leave, the crowd rushing to their hero's corpse.
You rip your way out of the space station in short order. Alarms blare, guards run in every direction, their lines of command cut. You punch through the hull, board your hidden fighter, and search out Ilana's stolen ship.
It's a green-blue heavy freighter. Large, unobtrusive, with one of those turrets that are marketed for debris removal and are used against pirates or locals uninterested in your prices. Aruna family heraldry features prominently on one side, and you can see the IFF flicker as someone's trying to modify it.
...You hope it isn't Mohini.
You ping them, and after a moment an empty viewscreen pops up, Ilana's hand popping into view from somewhere below the screen.
"I've got it," you call, "How are we doing?"
"We're safe and scrubbed everything," says Ilana, "Just gotta wipe the banks on this baby and we're clear. Painted the halls with blood, thanks to your friend."
You grimace, not that Ilana can see it. Her hand disappears again, and you can see sparks flicker into view as the viewscreen tries to make sense of...some lightshow in the cockpit. "The freighter's nice and all, but it doesn't exactly look like a carrier. Anywhere I can park on there?" you ask.
Ilana's head pops up, a manic grin on her face. "Is there?" she says, clearly too thrilled to have been asked the question, "This isn't a cargo freighter, Rav. This baby's a Q-Ship. We can fit your dumbass pirate fighter in here with room to spare."
"Don't diss the fighter!" you say, voice thick with mock outrage, "This is the best ride I've ever had!"
"That's because you fuck up everything you fly, Rav," laughs Ilana, then she hits a button and disappears from view once more. The freighter's cargo bay unfolds, environmental shielding springing to life as it reveals the hangar bay and defense guns concealed within.
You land, blinking as you step into warm, artificial light and sleek, high-tech fittings. Magnetic clamps secure your ship and refueling nozzles pop out of the wall, waiting to serve. You whistle, turn, and find yourself face to face with Mohini.
"You have it?" she asks. You nod, fishing the saliva-and-gore strewn cortical stack and handing it over. She looks at it with some distaste, but nods. "Let's get started."
You have the entire, fragmentary memory of Jutayu Aruna at your fingertips. It could take decades to pour through all the information in here. Besides anything on Indrajit, what do you look for first?
[ ] Threats to Vant
[ ] Personal life of a Monitor:
[ ] Rama (1.4x. He ordered this.)
[ ] Hanuman
[ ] Sita
[ ] Indrajit's Movement (1.3x, Mohini is interested)
[ ] Chola's escalation
[ ] Surpanakha (1.1x. Surpanakha wants to see what they know)
"Can't you hear it?" you say, exulting in the gaze of the terrified masses, in the spasming of sorcerous scent as cameras fail and divinations turn wrong, as Jutayu begins to comprehend that he's lost, "I'm the monster."
"I've killed many monsters," says Jutayu, voice cutting through the panic of the crowd, quieting their whispers as they wait for their hero to save them. But you see something they don't, for the first time in the fight you see confusion, unsteadiness. For the first time in the fight, he doesn't know what you're going to do next.
You smile, a wicked thing with four mouths and far too many teeth. Then you raise a hand, snap your fingers, and say, "Eat Him."
Something spasms in Jutayu's chest. A sorcerous tumor of bile, flesh, and teeth, seizing to life as you give the command. His eyes go wide as it takes the first bite, as it latches onto his guts and begins to tear away. His knees buckle, his stance dips as the first drops of blood begin to seep through his teeth, as centuries of age and pain and injury begin to crack through that perfect, hateful facade.
You hop down from your perch and stride towards him. Into the shredding gales of his anima. The barrages of wind and cutting vacuum he throws your way. Fists flash, teeth gnash, and each of them comes to naught. Every barrage he throws at you is less coordinated than the last until, finally, he swings.
Space vanishes. He's on you in an instant, a gauntlet racing towards your skull. You trade blows, teeth fly, blood soars, pain lances across your jaw. But yours are replaced in an instant, fangs sliding into place as shattered molars fall from your mouth. Jutayu simply heaves, blood and shattered teeth pouring forth as machinery and exaltation reach their limit.
He rises for another blow and you kick him into, through, a shrine to Bhaga, and continue your walk as the crowds part before you. They mutter prayers, curses, ask for salvation from the demon that walks among them, salvation for their lord, salvation for a man who hasn't deserved it in a century or more.
You ignore them. Step through Bhaga's inner sanctum, pull a banana from its spike and swallow it whole as you pass his offerings. You'll have to make amends for the blasphemy, eventually, but you've an image to sell.
Besides, you've never liked Bhaga much.
Jutayu has just pulled himself up when you step through the shrine's exit wound. His hair is a debris-riddled mess, whispy threads hanging over his face and neck. Bruises mar his body, steel skin cracks and splinters, while shattered machinery spills distilled essence upon the ground. One arm twitches and threatens to fall from its guard, and his legs barely support his weight. But even now his eyes blaze with defiance and the final words of a prayer leave his lips.
"-Durga, Omnipotent, Omnipresent, guide my arms," he intones, "Allow me my greatest weapon, bane of Rakshasa, final salvation of your Most Devoted."
You leap. Metal skin deforms against your fist. Blood sprays, wind lashes. But the prayer finishes regardless.
"The Void-Blade of the Garuda," he coughs, shooting an arm into the air as wind coalesces about it, his voice regaining his strength, "Arunastra!" Light dies and air flees, a tear, a visible void in space coalescing around his fist. Lengthening, widening, until it is a meter long and half as wide, a great blade of lethal, murderous nothing.
Then you bite off his arm at the elbow. He screams. The Blade flickers and dies, and as he sags the people gasp because they know you have won. You grab his head, pull it close until your mouth, your true mouth, rests by his ear.
"For Indrajit" you whisper.
Then your chest yawns open, and you bite his head off. A tongue pulls the cortical stack from his skull. Metal fades as the body slumps to the floor, as you spit the pulped skull onto the ground beside it. Sorcerous brass and grim determination replaced with the pained grimace of an old man. A keening wail pierces the air, then another, and a dozen more, as the onlookers realize what has happened.
You turn away from the body, towards the screaming, mourning crowd. The mass of innocents who just saw you murder their protector, their leader, perhaps even their grandfather, or great-grandfather. You raise your arms, for you have a role to sell, and a message to send, and you speak.
"All glory to Lanka!" you bellow, "All glory to the Yozi! All glory to the All-Hunger Blossom! Mourn, and tell others! I will return!"
And you leave, the crowd rushing to their hero's corpse.
*
You rip your way out of the space station in short order. Alarms blare, guards run in every direction, their lines of command cut. You punch through the hull, board your hidden fighter, and search out Ilana's stolen ship.
It's a green-blue heavy freighter. Large, unobtrusive, with one of those turrets that are marketed for debris removal and are used against pirates or locals uninterested in your prices. Aruna family heraldry features prominently on one side, and you can see the IFF flicker as someone's trying to modify it.
...You hope it isn't Mohini.
You ping them, and after a moment an empty viewscreen pops up, Ilana's hand popping into view from somewhere below the screen.
"I've got it," you call, "How are we doing?"
"We're safe and scrubbed everything," says Ilana, "Just gotta wipe the banks on this baby and we're clear. Painted the halls with blood, thanks to your friend."
You grimace, not that Ilana can see it. Her hand disappears again, and you can see sparks flicker into view as the viewscreen tries to make sense of...some lightshow in the cockpit. "The freighter's nice and all, but it doesn't exactly look like a carrier. Anywhere I can park on there?" you ask.
Ilana's head pops up, a manic grin on her face. "Is there?" she says, clearly too thrilled to have been asked the question, "This isn't a cargo freighter, Rav. This baby's a Q-Ship. We can fit your dumbass pirate fighter in here with room to spare."
"Don't diss the fighter!" you say, voice thick with mock outrage, "This is the best ride I've ever had!"
"That's because you fuck up everything you fly, Rav," laughs Ilana, then she hits a button and disappears from view once more. The freighter's cargo bay unfolds, environmental shielding springing to life as it reveals the hangar bay and defense guns concealed within.
You land, blinking as you step into warm, artificial light and sleek, high-tech fittings. Magnetic clamps secure your ship and refueling nozzles pop out of the wall, waiting to serve. You whistle, turn, and find yourself face to face with Mohini.
"You have it?" she asks. You nod, fishing the saliva-and-gore strewn cortical stack and handing it over. She looks at it with some distaste, but nods. "Let's get started."
You have the entire, fragmentary memory of Jutayu Aruna at your fingertips. It could take decades to pour through all the information in here. Besides anything on Indrajit, what do you look for first?
[ ] Threats to Vant
[ ] Personal life of a Monitor:
[ ] Rama (1.4x. He ordered this.)
[ ] Hanuman
[ ] Sita
[ ] Indrajit's Movement (1.3x, Mohini is interested)
[ ] Chola's escalation
[ ] Surpanakha (1.1x. Surpanakha wants to see what they know)
Voidborne Garuda Style
Jutayu developed this martial arts style in his youth, as a young prodigy on an idyllic Vant, practicing out of curiosity and arcano-technological interest into the nature of his own blood rather than any great need. The school flourished due to its unique nature, the kindly, determined manner of its master, the enlightenment and knowledge offered within, rather than external pressures.
It did not remain that way for long.
Hard times came. The Rakshasa, pirates, warlords, Ashoka. Students fought and students died, temples burned, and time after time, the Aruna family, the Garuda style, were reduced to none but Jutayu himself.
And so it was honed. Theology and theoreticals slowly stripped away, honed into an ever-more lethal tool of murder. Dancing with the wind, self-powered flight, the gentle caress of a breeze or study of fundamentals, such things did not kill foes. Such things did not stop Rakshasa from stripping your civilization to the bone.
Then the Monitors won, and peace returned.
But the joy never did, Jutayu could not allow it.
A pity that it didn't matter.
Voidborne Garuda Style is a celestial martial art focused on the manipulation of elemental air. Vacuums are turned into lethal blades, and the wind itself turned into a weapon to manipulate the battlefield and fell foes without ever coming close to the foe, only closing to deal devastating, darting strikes before retreating out of range.
All members of Garuda Unit, and all Dragonblood of the Aruna family, study at least the fundamentals of this martial arts style. Jutayu's aging body stopped being able to keep up with it long ago, and now he relies on exoskeletons, sorcery, and essence pumps to use it in battle.
Gauntlets of Roke
Ancient, jade gauntlets belonging to Jutayu Aruna. He had them commissioned when the bad times began, when the Rakshasa invasions started, and used them in the futile defenses that followed. Three of his children have inherited these venerable gauntlets, each has died in battle, gauntlets fused to their fists.
They are great blue gauntlets that fold down into gloves when not in use, and rise almost halfway up the user's arms when readied for battle. The power-intensive femtotech circuitry and inlaid prayers require a constant influx of power to function, chewing through enough hearthstones to make operating the Gauntlets impossible for those without access to a Manse or similar source of power.
When powered and attuned to a worthy user, the Gauntlets of Roke magnify the kinetic energy of each of their weilder's blows and parries. Strikes carry the user across space in an instant, allowing them to close instantly with targets almost one hundred yards away with a simple throw of a fist. Through his centuries of experience with the Gauntlets, Jutayu had attained such mastery that he could almost simulate flight through rapid follow up strikes, darting at and away from a target before it had the chance to fall.
Jutayu developed this martial arts style in his youth, as a young prodigy on an idyllic Vant, practicing out of curiosity and arcano-technological interest into the nature of his own blood rather than any great need. The school flourished due to its unique nature, the kindly, determined manner of its master, the enlightenment and knowledge offered within, rather than external pressures.
It did not remain that way for long.
Hard times came. The Rakshasa, pirates, warlords, Ashoka. Students fought and students died, temples burned, and time after time, the Aruna family, the Garuda style, were reduced to none but Jutayu himself.
And so it was honed. Theology and theoreticals slowly stripped away, honed into an ever-more lethal tool of murder. Dancing with the wind, self-powered flight, the gentle caress of a breeze or study of fundamentals, such things did not kill foes. Such things did not stop Rakshasa from stripping your civilization to the bone.
Then the Monitors won, and peace returned.
But the joy never did, Jutayu could not allow it.
A pity that it didn't matter.
Voidborne Garuda Style is a celestial martial art focused on the manipulation of elemental air. Vacuums are turned into lethal blades, and the wind itself turned into a weapon to manipulate the battlefield and fell foes without ever coming close to the foe, only closing to deal devastating, darting strikes before retreating out of range.
All members of Garuda Unit, and all Dragonblood of the Aruna family, study at least the fundamentals of this martial arts style. Jutayu's aging body stopped being able to keep up with it long ago, and now he relies on exoskeletons, sorcery, and essence pumps to use it in battle.
Gauntlets of Roke
Ancient, jade gauntlets belonging to Jutayu Aruna. He had them commissioned when the bad times began, when the Rakshasa invasions started, and used them in the futile defenses that followed. Three of his children have inherited these venerable gauntlets, each has died in battle, gauntlets fused to their fists.
They are great blue gauntlets that fold down into gloves when not in use, and rise almost halfway up the user's arms when readied for battle. The power-intensive femtotech circuitry and inlaid prayers require a constant influx of power to function, chewing through enough hearthstones to make operating the Gauntlets impossible for those without access to a Manse or similar source of power.
When powered and attuned to a worthy user, the Gauntlets of Roke magnify the kinetic energy of each of their weilder's blows and parries. Strikes carry the user across space in an instant, allowing them to close instantly with targets almost one hundred yards away with a simple throw of a fist. Through his centuries of experience with the Gauntlets, Jutayu had attained such mastery that he could almost simulate flight through rapid follow up strikes, darting at and away from a target before it had the chance to fall.
Evaunit02mark1
S-s-smell the Prey, S-s-start the Hunt.
[X] Rama (1.4x. He ordered this.)
Know thy enemy.
Know thy enemy.
[X] Surpanakha (1.1x. Surpanakha wants to see what they know)
Let's see what other people's perspective of her is.
Let's see what other people's perspective of her is.
- Location
- The sixth circle of Hell (second on weekends)
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X] Indrajit's Movement (1.3x, Mohini is interested)
Know what your enemy knows about you.
Know what your enemy knows about you.
- Location
- Library
[X] Indrajit's Movement (1.3x, Mohini is interested)
Are we going to pick up the pieces of our brother's life work and sharpen them into knife against the system? If so, it's probably good idea to see what the enemy find so threatening about it.
Are we going to pick up the pieces of our brother's life work and sharpen them into knife against the system? If so, it's probably good idea to see what the enemy find so threatening about it.
SirLagginton
Shadow Cabal Caerbannog Bun-Bun
- Location
- Arrrghhh
[X] Rama (1.4x. He ordered this.)
- Location
- National Capital Region, USA
[X] Indrajit's Movement (1.3x, Mohini is interested)
TenfoldShields
Lounging on a Hoard of Words
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Man I love these little details, especially taken in context with and juxtaposed against the information in the Voidborne Garuda Style segment. How...idk, I don't want to just restate shit I said earlier because it's a notable development but the idea that Jutayu used to be a hero. That to everyone here but Ravana he was a hero. How Ravana himself is kinda trapped in the conventions of the society around him and if he can't make it as a hero himself he'll market himself as a heel and a villain. Because at least that way people will see it, see him. Because then people will remember and that's kinda the real luxury here isn't it?
The privilege to forget, to ignore, to not care. To not care about the vast, oppressed underclass that you've created. To not care about the crimes committed on your behalf, so distant that no part of the blood splatter will ever touch you. To turn your life's work, the martial style you've created, the path to self-understanding and enlightenment into just another weapon. To sustain it with a literal fortune in machinery and Essence-tech past the point of viability, of utility, of necessity. And then at the end that's all you have y'know? Your useless sword, this emblem of all your excess and own kinda self-hollowing that you kept out of ingrained trauma and vanity and it's not enough to save you. It's not enough to make a difference. It can't protect you.
Where maybe kindness and self-reflection a century or two ago would have made all the difference, and kept things from ever progressing to this point. But you didn't see it, and if you saw it you didn't care.
It's the problem of the Monitors writ small and writ kinda large and a facet of how it just...permeates their everything. Their systemic privilege, the whole corrupt system that exists to enable them and their ego, this kinda withering of the self but the self is kept sustained by burning treasure and grand self-indulgence and is gilded so it seems as grand as ever. And if even a portion of that was diverted away, if they were capable of self-reflection rather than just self-obsessing, they would have been able to see the thing that would one day kill them.
To that end- even though I know it's way too late in the vote to sway things (I've just kinda had A Week and I'm pretty sure Havoc would kill me if I swayed the poll at this stage of shit) I kinda want to make a token motion towards:
[X] Rama (1.4x. He ordered this.)
Rama is the main antagonist, was the main antagonist of Ravana's namesake. He's the one who this, Za-Vant, this whole nightmare- who it's all for. He's the one who did this. But he hasn't really appeared much in person y'know? He's always been seen from a long way off, through supplementary materials or other character's awe or dread. Little notes like how he's corrupted the worship of his patron god into worship of himself, conflating the two until the boundaries are smeared and blurred. And I think it'd- I mean whatever wins honestly but this especially- serve us well IC and OOC to get a good long look at the guy himself as things go forward. 'Cause right now he's just this kinda inscrutable enigma, understood more by the shape of things around him and the persona he projects, rather than the Solar himself.
[X] Rama (1.4x. He ordered this.)