To the Letter, Or, The Sidereals Deal with an Outside of Context Problem (Exalted/Destiny)

[GreggHL]

In a deep recess beneath the Salient, a nest of fires portrays the halls and corridors of the grand palace. The flames heat the crystals, and the crystals project the light into moving images. In a chair of thatch, Aurash leans back, fingers tented.

On her first day, Five walked the lengths of the corridors, charting the hallways of the Salient. Aurash wondered if the effort was wasted- maps were available after all. When asked, the young girl pointed out that she was taking preventative measures for the security of the salient, and pointed to the ceilings.

In particular, the ductwork. The ductwork is a known, though oft ignored feature of Heaven. The gods ignore it. They do not think of it. It provides fresh air, it can somehow reach ships at sea, it can even reach the Golden Baroque flying above the streets. It is there.

Aurash is old, though. Like all Dragon Kings, she has an old soul. She remembers the Times of Primordial Glory. She know what the ductwork is.

Five identified six crucial entrypoints where the ductwork in the Salient connects with the larger nextwork of Heaven. For the past four nights, the crystal focals would hover at these junctions. Watching. Doing…nothing. Even at the sounds of movement along them.

It is the fifth night. Once again, there is movement. Aurash moves to stand, and ask the Steward what exactly they are doing.

Except this time, the focals rise into the vents, and a flash of light illuminates the entire duct system of the Salient. The light from the vents shines brighter than the lamps. One vent swings open and a girl with clay skin and blue hair drops out, covering her eyes and moaning miserably.

From the side door next to the girl, Five walks out, grabs her by the ankle, and drags her in.

Aurash sits back down and nods.

"Oh she's good," she says, and sips her tea.





The Demon City rumbled, felt the wounding of the Demon Emperor. For a brief, perfect moment, the motion of the Layers ceased. A transcendence of realization before they began their ceaseless motion once more. Countless died, as they always do, as they always shall. The great prison of the Rightful King was changed, and its King changed with it, though the mere subjects who bowed their head to their true King would not realize it in their brief, flickering lives.

Lives which live and die. Lives of value which serve and end.

Upon the layers of Ligier Shin Giri Malfeas, the very heart of the Demon City, there is a sprawling estate of brass towers. None may enter here, save for the Fetich Souls of the Yozi, their most trusted lieutenants, and the residents of the estate itself- the Princes of the Green Sun.

The Infernals.

The towers are built to reflect the Demigod Champion that it was made for. The fallen air harbor that once belonged to the Pirate Scourge Gyrfalcon prior to his unfortunate demise in Creation. The temple of the priest to Grey Cecelyne. The chapel, long empty, belonging to the Ebon Dragon's favorite Fiend.

Near the center of the Estates there is a small tower that is built as a fortress. Its walls black basalt and easily defensible. It has a single entrance, which leads into a long hallway with no egress, no windows or doors save for the one at the end. Should one dare to probe further into the fortress, one finds a lack of amenities- no great harem of demonic concubines, no master artworks plundered from Creation, no haze of drugs and liquor.

One finds a forge, consecrated and dedicated to the Demon Emperor. Its white flame burns and melts metals, flesh, and gossamer into the materials needed. One finds simple bedding, torn and worn pictures in frames on a desk, and armor of worked brass with vitriol runes. A helm, with a visor of Chiascuro glass, and a sword with many layers of dried blood.

The First Infernal, first to swear his soul to the Demon Emperor, sits upon a simple bed and stares at the remains of the picture. Of himself, and compatriots. Warriors sworn to a kingdom that fell to the depridations of their own, and the Fey that tempted them. Of times where his purpose was noble. Of times where those he could protect lived.

Great Slayer.

The walls of the forge break, shatter, and burn. He sits before the Throne, and upon the Throne sits the King. His crown tarnished, his wound ever bleeding, his eyes burning in a rage he understands.

The King opens a hand, and in the everburning flame there is a white Ring, etched in a band of blue.

Find this Ring. It is in Creation. Perhaps in Heaven itself. Tell me what you require.

The Infernal closes his eyes. He thinks. Upon the fall of the kingdom. The screaming in the streets. The Wyld beasts trampling those too old or too young to feed upon.

"I need weapons," he says, his voice low and stone.

You shall be sent to the South. To the fiery courts that despoiled your Kingdom. Seek vengeance, and grind the fair folk into the tools you need.

The Slayer rises. Never before has the King spoken as this to him. Never before has he dangled vengeance before him so plainly. "Do I leave any? Is there any you wish spared?"

The King stares down at him, but not as a lesser. Not as disposable. As a subject. As a being of barely contained rage. The King recognizes this rage and speaks to it.

Upon these beasts of the Wyld and Chaos, upon these things who would despoil the Creation I once ruled, I send upon them you. Rip and tear until it is done.

The vision ends, the wall restored. The Great Slayer, First of the Infernals, walks to his armor and prepares to enact needed vengeance. His King demands it.

 

[Pyro Hawk]

Well, it would appear that a certain Yozi has indeed received his mid-season Power Up. Let's see how that plays out.

And I'm left wondering what the other Yozi's reactions to the change has been.

 

[GreggHL]

Five is pouring coffee out of a thermos, hands shaking, and into the cap she waits by the docks. It is a nice day, the Sun is shining, and she does not care because she's spent the last five days securing the Salient of the Unconquered Sun from the security holes the Dragon Kings did not think about. Like the entrance vectors of her sister. And her Grandfather.

That was an awkward conversation. In her defense, she had warned her sisters that she would be patrolling the ventilation with her Foci and would not hesitate to blind anyone who came through unannounced. She did not anticipate no one passing on the information to Autochthon.

She smiles. At very least, she has the respect of Aurash and through her, the Anklok staff. They are all far, far older than her, but she has impressed them. That is not bad for a first week as Steward.

Ghost floats over, bathing her in Light. She feels some of the fatigue melt away. "Thank you."

"You looked like you needed it."

She turns to see Kiddo approaching. The Guardian whistles, happily, a slight pep, a dance in his step. Five narrows her eyes. "I regret to inform you that your partner was unable to steal any weapons from the Salient of the Unconquered Sun."

"But I tried," Ghost points out. Ghost floats over to Kiddo, sighing as he bathes his partner in Light. "I'm happy to know I'm not healing a broken pelvis. What were you doing all week?"

"Helping Noedumari move back into her home and set up a Door console there," he responds, arms up so Ghost can get all the spots, "I may be moving in soon, myself. Or helping her move, because her job pays ridiculously well."

Five gives him a head tilt. Coming from behind, Star gives him a high five. The Serenities is followed by Wandering Horizons and an as always pensive Turncloak, the five of them board the boat that takes them across the harbor to Nasri's office. Upon disembarking, they absolutely did not walk into his office to find him there, but instead heard the clatterclatterclatter from the air duct and Five carved a hole with her foci. Leading to one of her sisters dropping out and landing on, and breaking, Nasri's chair.

"Owowowowwwwww-"

The girl picks herself up. She is identical to Ni, the eldest of the siblings, but more sullen. "I'm okay!" she says, completely unbelievably.

"Kei what are you doing here," Five states, her Foci falling back onto her waist. The door to the office opens and Nasri steps in, staring at the other Alchemical.

"Care to explain?" the elder Sidereal asks, staring at the girl. Glancing at the broken chair.

Kei's eyes go wide. She hurriedly bows, stammering out a greeting. "My apologies! I am Yekkido Kei, attache to Yu Shan from Il-Yeddo. The Great Maker has requested the presence of everyone here, as he has finished interrogating the Seeker of Power!"

Five pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Fiiiiiiiine."

Turncloak snatches the thermos out of his niece's hand and gives it a sniff. Black, bitter like death. He gives her a nod of approval and hands it back. "Real job does that to you," he states, as if passing on wisdom from the ages.

Five simply stares at him, in silence.





It is Star's turn to kick open the vent, and she does so with gusto. Upon which, all six of them drop down onto the Floor and find themselves facing something they did not expect. Which is not to say that they find large groups of automatons which are most certainly not alien invaders that Logos is lying about, because there is a conspicuous lack of them on the floor.

Rather, they find Logos, in his tripedal avatar, surrounded by seven puppies.

Seven golden furred puppies. All seven happily bark, waving wittle tails, and Star immediately squees, signing the death warrants of several baby seals.

"Are those Hounds of Autochthon?" Nasri asks.

Five lets out a tiny 'daw.'

"Puppies of Autochthon," Star squeals.

"That is correct. The Great Maker has noticed the depletion of the pack currently in Creation, and I have set several eggs to dethaw and incubate. The Great Maker is indulging their herding-instinct with this probe-body as they grow. This way please."

The eye rotates and the tripod begins walking. The puppers circle, herding it. "They're going to grow big, right?" Turncloak asks, walking alongside the cuteness chainsaw, avoiding looking directly at it, "You know, apparently Lunars have a habit of getting hearts blood from them. Has the Boss added any upgrades to deal with that issue?"

"The Great Maker is concerned with Lunar predation on the Hounds and has taken steps to discourage this behavior on the Hounds in the future."

Five walks up to Logos' other side. "Does that mean they are going to be less aggressive or more aggressive?"

Off to the side, a metal cutout of a silver wolf pops out, suffused with Lunar essence. All seven puppies jump out in front of Logos, mouths open. But rather than barking, golden light gathers in their mouths, their hackles rising in time with their overwhelming power.

Their lasers charge and fire- all seven meeting in front of them, merging into a single lance of Solar essence which vaporizes the target. That, and several layers of wall behind it. The puppies bark, waggling wittle tails, before hopping back to continue herding Logos.

"So less aggressive," Turncloak drawls. His eyes do not leave the puppies.

Five 'daws' louder.

Star squeals, clapping her hands.

"So do you take advance orders?" Kiddo asks.

Logos continues walking, the puppies circling them. A ring built into an arch rises up, and stairs leading up to the ring itself. The ring spins, back and forth seven times, before opening into a portal much like a Door which you walk through and into a new room.

In it, you see more of the puppies- the lean, long snouted Moon Puppies. The stubby legged, manic Jadepuppies. The blue and gray, mop like Starpuppers. The black Nightpuppies, who hop up and down, barking at the arriving Sunpups. They surround the central cylinder, in which is the Seeker of Power. He is fully restrained and suspended in the nutrient fluid, unconscious and miserable at being surrounded by such cuteness.

Sitting in a brass easy chair, smoking a brass pipe, is the brass Encounter Suit of the Great Maker.

"Great Maker," Nasri says, and bows, "I am Nasri, Chosen of Endings."

The eyes of the Encounter Suit light up. "Excellent. I have examined the Seeker of Power and made many strides regarding the functionality of the Infernal Exaltation regarding the hosting of Primordial Charms."

Turncloak grabs the thermos out of Five's hands and takes a slug. Possibly so he does not make any comments.

Nasri simply nods, arms folded behind him. He walks around the container, the neurotic jadepuppies following him. "My reports said that he was using the charms of Malfeas," the elder Sidereal intones, "And that Malfeas had a back door into him that allowed the Yozi to possess him. This is correct?"

The cylinder twists and goes down into the floor. Thankfully, no puppies are caught in it. Rather, a hologlyphic display appears, showing a series of connecting trees and expansions.

"That is correct. Now, quick question. What do you know of Primordial Charms?"

Horizons scratches his chin. He usually tries not to be too front and center during these sorts of things. There's not enough Sidereals for him to directly interfere. Then again, he also has, at least through prior incarnations, lots of experience with certain demons.

Turncloak, despite being as powerful as he is, didn't know that much about Primordials. It wasn't exactly a subject the Deathlords encouraged study in. But on the other hand, he did have a habit of studying things he wasn't supposed to. And he could come to some conclusions with incomplete information.

"Primordials are their charms," Horizons speaks up, "They're defined by them…fuck that's a loophole."

Turncloak finds himself staring at the spot in the floor where Seeker had vanished into. "Fucking shit."

The Encounter Suit nods, puffing his pipe. Star raises a hand. "Dumb question. What's stopping you from killing Seeker, rewriting the Essence to serve you, and creating an Infernal based on you?"

Turncloak is already swearing, muttering about how there's no limiter on these things. Trying to make it look graceful. Trying t6o find a word that expresses batshit insanity, brilliance, and the need to win at all costs.

"Do you think having more Autochthons would be a benefit?" the Great Maker asks. There was actual horror in his voice.

"As opposed to more Malfeas?" Star counters.

Turncloak turns his head, so very slowly, to stare at Star. He grabs the thermos out of Five's hand once more and takes another slug of coffee to prevent anything from coming out of his mouth. It surprises them that he doesn't bite through the metal.

"Wait," Nasri says, "That makes no sense."

They turn to the elder. "Malfeas is incapable of seeing anyone as an equal," Nasri continues, "Why would he create a second Malfeas?"

Horizons shrugs. "So neither of them have to die virgins?" Star slaps him on the arm.

"Symmetrical docking?" Autochthon offers. Star slaps him on the arm.

Five gestures at the floor. "The Seeker is Exalted. Even if he was devoted to Malfeas, I don't think he could be stopped if he put his mind to it. Isn't that the entire point of the Exaltations?"

Nasri nods, arms folded, pacing. Followed by jadepuppies. "What was he putting his mind to? Did he say anything in that regard? Any phrases stand out when you fought him? The Malfean Urge is to dominate and lord over. That may have some clue."

Five furrows her brow. She shifts her posture, the cadence of her speech. She clears her throat, her neck flexing oddly as tiony hooks and artificial ligaments installed there change the shape of her larynx.

"Herald the return of the Empyrean Chaos," she says, in the Seeker's voice.

Nasri grimaces. "Theion. How do they intend to return Theion-"

"The Ring," Kiddo finally says.

They all turn to the Guardian. All of them. He holds out a hand, and Ghost rises up, projecting over his palm an image of the white, blue etched ring. "When we investigated the Vault, we found that one of the Artifacts was held apart from the others. A ring, etched with the words in Old Realm, 'The Hope That Makes the Burden of the Crown Light.' What does that say in Old Realm?"

The silence is enough to hear a pin drop. Even amongst the puppies. Autochthon says the name, and it with solemn regret.

"Ruvelia."

 

[Ardenzian]

Upon these beasts of the Wyld and Chaos, upon these things who would despoil the Creation I once ruled, I send upon them you. Rip and tear until it is done.

The vision ends, the wall restored. The Great Slayer, First of the Infernals, walks to his armor and prepares to enact needed vengeance. His King demands it.

Click to shrink...

And now we're getting DOOM and the Slayer himself in on this

"Ruvelia."

Click to shrink...

Context needed

 

[DArkcreeper]

Context needed

Click to shrink...

Im pretty sure thats the name of the second fetish soul of malfeas which he used to have before hé became a yozi

 

[Ardenzian]

Im pretty sure thats the name of the second fetish soul of malfeas which he used to have before hé became a yozi

Click to shrink...

.....so are we gonna turn it into a gun?

 

[GreggHL]

In the beginning, there was the Chaos. Unchanging and timeless, formless and without consequence. Hushed and silent was the womb of the sea. In this endless wonder did they play and did they dance, without fate and without end, for all that was was them and all that was them was.

Then came the Ignition, the Dragon, and their Shadow, and so began time.

She remembers.

The Unshaped hounded the Tribe. Their [ORDER] calcified the weakest of them. Their [SHAPE] disgusted them.

The Was-Of=/=Time-Without carved out pieces and set them as arrows. Edged shapes and polyhedrons, screaming against the ordered Essence of [SHAPE]. Brothers and sisters, formed of disgust and fear. A rage against consequence and time.

Their mightiest was caught in Creation. Their Essence became children of crystal at the core of the obscenity. The Tribe- now mighty, now Primordial- dragged them down into the maw of existence. Repurposing them. Calling them Element and Life. Calling them River and Mountain. [SHAPE] carved into hearts.

They saw the colorless flame of their King, and the White Tower.

Upon the White Tower, the Queen saw them. Last of their kin, last of the siblings of fear, arrows loosed by an ancient Unshaped. A beautiful woman of white, with wings of compassion, who stepped into the aether and ignited it with cerulean flame.

You are lost and alone. You need not die to give your life meaning.

Her words bells, her flame warm and wet. Her cupped hands hold the polyhedron, and it asks, through its geometric screams, what she intends to do to it.

I give you Hope.





Five's eyes open and she stumbles back, gasping. Star catches her before she can fall. "What was that?"

"The Cerulean Star and the Green Sun. The Queen and the Prince. Royalty."

She angrily wipes her sleeve across her face. "The…the Behemoth I was made from encountered Ruvelia. One told him he should build and the other told him what he would build would have meaning."

Turncloak raises an eyebrow as Star helps his niece stand. Not quite asking if she was alright, because they're not quite there yet. "Is the location of the Ring known?"

Nasri shakes his head. "It is going to be the highest priority. We can tell that Malfeas does not know it's location, however, as if he did, he would order every demon, cultist, and Infernal to seize it."

Turncloak coughs into his fist. It sounds a lot like gods fucking dammit.

He considers his words for long moments. Thinks about being diplomatic. It's not really his job, though. So, he turns on his heel to the Encounter Suit. "Okay, why are the Yozi confined to Malfeas?"

It seemed like a stupid question, especially coming from the elder Deathknight Necromancer.

"It is a matter of wording. As long as Creation exists, the Yozi may not leave on any path which leads to Creation, which in turn leads to Yu Shan and the Games of Divinity. Which cuts them off from anything connected to Creation."

Turncloak pinches the bridge of his nose. "So sending them back into the Wyld, never to return, was not an option?"

Autochthon sighs. "Hindsight is 20/20. The Yozi were not happy with the end of the War. The Exalted Host wanted them confined. I was high on my own anger. Gaia was disguisted. The Gods were terrified." The Encounter Suit shrugs. "This was the compromise."

Horizons moans, face in his hands. "And of course, all hundred Sidereals thought it was the best idea."

Turncloak paces, hurming. "Saturn has said the Yozi will some day be freed," Nasri adds, "All things end, after all. But you have ideas?"

"The Ring may give us leverage," the Abyssal states, rubbing his jaw, "How does Malfeas even know about the Ring?"

"Espionage, most likely. I've heard plenty of stories of the previous Emissary from Hell."

Nasri sighs. It is a long, heavy sigh. One that may involve a flashback. "Right. Marilaq A'lam. I can send people to check on her."

"She didn't leave her posting in a box?" Turncloak asks, "Or a bag? Or a dust bin?"

The elder Endings shakes his head. "Marilaq A'lam was remanded to the custody of Faded Lotus' Rainbow and is currently in the city of Ardurgia my order of the Unconquered Sun. She's being assessed by the Exalted there and-"

The Encounter Suit, the light having left its eyes, slumps forward.

"Where did the Great Maker go?" Nasri asks.





In Creation, the Meander Gate opens and a fresh Encounter Suit exits.

Bringing up a hand, the palm irises out and reveals the hologlyphic display of the Loom Positioning Design that allows him to navigate the different locations of Creation. It allows him perfect recall of where and how to find the locales he must visit, mainly to gather materials he needs for Works.

"I said, 'Ardurgia.'"

And once again, the LPD beeps, and reads in Old Realm that such a place is not found within Fate.

"Fuck."

 

[linkhyrule5]

The ring spins, back and forth seven times, before opening into a portal much like a Door which you walk through and into a new room.

Click to shrink...

lmao that sneaky Stargate ref

.....so are we gonna turn it into a gun?

Click to shrink...

Bad idea. One, because Ruvelia really doesn't deserve it, being as her name implies the mercy and compassion of old Theion; one and a half, because without her Malfeas is incapable of anything but rage and loathing, having lost the broader perspective that made him a worthy king... at least to the other Primordials, anyway. And two, because having lost her once already and having learned that she's still alive, if she's taken from him again not just Malfeas but also Ligier will stop at absolutely nothing to destroy whoever's responsible. (And Malfeas will puree a few billion demons.)

 

[GreggHL]

Within the stone walls of the partially rebuilt city, there is a pristine building of brick and mortar. It is well maintained, freshly cleaned, and only two floors tall, its domed ceiling in contrast to ruined towers and an immitation of the immense dome that the city is built around. In contrast to the interior of the silver, sorcerous dome, the brick dome has inside a kitchen, storage cabinets, and a large common room with a large round table that several Celestial Exalts and a couple of Terrestrial Exalts are currently sitting around.

Prince Arvos Duval is buried in shipping manifests for the current trade that Ardurgia has set up with Rioghad, now that, "Queen Ursal says Morgaise has met the shipment numbers we wanted for cogs. Spider, we want those to go towards the Frames, right?"

"The Shitstriders, yes," the Dawn Caste says, slouching in her chair, "Any extra go towards the Workshop. I'm noticing how convenient it is to have a Raksha on call. Anyone else noticing this?"

"It involves finding a Raksha first," Arvos deadpans, "Ebeli, we've got a New Moon in three days."

"Octavian vouches for Makarios as not being problematic," the redhead says with a smile, "I did explain to him the situation we have here when we went to Malfeas, so he's eager to get to work."

The door opens to the administrative room. A blood ape with a brass helm and a cape walks in, holding a brass staff. He walks more upright than the other blood apes would. More proud, less bestial. Walking over to Ebeli, he hands her a scroll.

"Newest polling from the boys," he says, "The ones in red are due to have their bindings expire and will make haste for the Treasuries as agreed."

"Thank you, Hans."

Her caste mark flashes and her eyes roll up. She drops the scroll, her mouth open.

"He comes," she says, her voice gutteral and dry, "Wandering. Lost. But not for me."

She slumps forward, her blood ape Seneschal catching her before she can slam her head. She blinks, shaking her head and giving off a quick gurgle before guzzling her tea down her parched throat.

"So that was Grandma?" Abeti asks, tapping her fingers together.

Arvos sighs. Someday, he thinks. Someday they will take this seriously. On the other hand, they're not wrong.



Creation is vast. From its lush plains and massive forests to the fiery expanses of the South, the endless oceans of the West, the cold wastes of the North, and the verdant Center of the Blessed Isle. It is immense beyond measure, and all of it is watched under the Loom of Fate, a great Mythos-mechanism that determins the dates and destinies of countless beings, of every second of every day, of the immense world that is Creation.

Most of the time.

There are some places that are Outside of Fate. Some places Invisible to the Loom.

During the Great Contagion, the Sidereals hid villages and cities outside of Fate to save them from the horrors of the ur-plague, so there would be a chance for humanity to recover. There are places subsumed by the Wyld, or fallen under the mythos of the Yozi, rendering them unknown to the Loom.

One of these places is the Lost City of Ardurgia. It was built under the rules of Calibration, rendering it unknown and invisible to the Loom, and thus invisible to the Loom Positioning Design that Autochthon would normally use to guide himself there.

Thus, the Great Maker had no idea how to find Ardurgia and he was increasingly lost. After some hours wandering, he found a farm- some relatively upkept fields, a simple hut, and a farmer with a straw hat chewing on a piece of straw as he milked his goat.

"Pardon me," the King of All Craftsman says, walking towards the farmer, clad in his brass Encounter Suit, "I am looking for the Lost City of Ardurgia? Might you know where I can find it?"

The farmer looks up from the well-worked nipples of his animal and spits. "Ardurgia? Ah've heard legends of that place. They say it's a cursed city, filled with ghosts-"

"That would make sense, yes."

"An' that there's a demon woman there who'll steal yer seed."

"Excellent, Mitiera is still around, that makes things much easier. How might I be able to find it?"

The farmer chews thoughtfully and spits again. "Ain't no man alive ah know've who's seen that cursed place, but if you go into the mist shrouded, Lost Woods north of here, the Forest Gods and the Silver Fox whom they serve would know. They say she is a mercurial one. Like the Moon itself. She may slay you as soon as help you."

The Great Maker nods. "I see. Thank you, mortal farmer. Please accept this token as a symbol of my gratitude."

The Encounter Suit of the King of All Craftsmen walks off. The farmer turns from the goat and milk bucket and stares at the brass pillar, ringed in starmetal and topped by a balanced plate of orichalcum, completely unaware of what a Reality Engine is and why it is now on his yard.

"Now what in tarnation am ah supposed to do with that?"

 

[GreggHL]

The Great Maker, King of All Craftsmen, has left Heaven. Presumably he invoked the Geass on every god he saw on the way out to prevent the complete and total panic, and left through the Meander Gate which exited in the East. This also meant that the Great Maker, King of All Craftsmen, Primordial, Autochthon, has left Yu Shan without his minder-slash-granddaughter or his employee-slash-First Abyssal.

They grabbed Kiddo and Ghost and ran off to try to figure out where exactly he was right now. You wanted to follow, but you had work to do.

The two of you- Star of the Shiftless Skies and Wandering Horizons- sit in an emergency meeting and you both feel a sense of overwhelming dread. The doors are locked and you each have some sort of button in front of you, like the ones in the swankier restaurants that alert the wait staff.

You sit at a nice, round, immense mahogany table with an empty center, and as you finish your headcount you count sixty.

All Sidereals.

Chejop Kejak taps his gavel. Behind him, the God of Ominous Pronnouncements announces,

"IT HAS BEGUN!"

The Old Man clears his throat and tents his fingers. "Welcome, everyone. We are here to resolve a pressing problem that faces Creation. As you are aware, over five years ago the Scarlet Empress disappeared."

There is some muttering amongst the younger Sidereals as they were not, in fact, aware.

"Despite our efforts, we have been unable to locate the Empress, and there have been several possible clamants to the Scarlet Throne. The purpose of this meeting is to suggest and vote on who we, as the Sidereal Exalted, Chosen of the Maidens and Viziers, shall put on the Throne as leader and ruler of the Blessed Isle."

Several posters unfurl from the high ceiling, each several times the height of a grown man. You instantly recognize the salmon breastplate, the marble skin, and the look of complete disdain that mixes the realization of the world she lives in with the gut reaction of bad fish.

Another poster is of a handsome man with fiery red hair who looks like he should be modeling underwear, and is for that reason shirtless. Another is of a red-haired woman in emerald armor, who's every inch screams she is completely unsuited to run a government or anything that is not a military.

The last is another person you recognize, with dark red hair, dressed to the nines, and flirting with you despite being a poster.

"The current candidates include Mnemon, head of House Mnemon, who has the greatest drive for the Throne. Additionally, we have a preferred candidate in Cathak Canan, but he will be dead within the next decade and we will be forced into this situation again. A candidate preferred by the nobility of the Realm is Tepet Ejava, also known as the Roseblack. Amongst the lower ranked Dragonblooded, V'Neef, favored daughter of the Empress, is preferred, but she has no interest in the Throne."

Slogans appear on each poster.

Mnemon: Because She Wants It

Cathak Canan: Kick the Can Down the Road

Tepet Ejava: At Least She Isn't Mnemon

V'Neef: Where The Fuck Is She

Three seats down from Chejop, a magnificently tanned Sidereal purposefully wearing gold taps her button.

"The Terrestrial Realm is a joke, always has been a joke, and was only done because we had no other options," Ayesha Ura declares, "Now that the Solar Exalted are returning, we should back a returned Solar Deliberative and restore the Blessed Isle to Solar Rule. I can offer some candidates."

Another poster unfurls.

Solar Deliberative: It Was Better in the Old Days

"We will open the floor to other suggestions," Chejop intones. Behind him, the God of Ominous Pronnouncements announces,

"THE FLOOR IS OPEN!"

 

[Pyro Hawk]

I am now wondering what the outcome would be if they had all 100 Sidereals. I suspect I couldn't imagine it. But I'm mostly curious if that's because my sanity is preventing that for it's own sake or if it really is that unimaginable.

 

[GreggHL]

Wandering Horizons stares ahead, waiting for death to claim him. Star, jaw clenched, slams her hand down on her button. "What about the Gods? In fact, I know a god who'd be perfect to rule the Realm, and not just because he's my boyfriend!"

Another banner unfurls. Another familiar redhead, who is also shirtless and giving two thumbs up.

Little Beam: A Little Beam to Shine on Each of Your Hearts

On the other side of the table, directly opposite from Star, a white-haired young man slaps down his button. He is not Faded Lotus, but probably another Lotus, as the Five Score Fellowship is ripe with white haired guys named Something Lotus.

"She's right! We should put a God on the throne! Why not the God the Blessed Isle revolves around?"

Another banner unfurls, this one with a massive dragon made of stone with a perpetually disappointed look on his face.

Pasiap: Cut Out the Middleman

Another little shit slaps their button and suggests that, with the breaking of the Seal of Eight Divinities- and the gasps from several younger Sidereals who were not informed- then the time has come to fix the Great Geass and hand stewardship of the Blessed Isle to the Children of Adamant as compensation.

The Jadeborn: Give Our Short Kings a Chance

"The Humans have had their chance! Its time to return the Isle to the rightful overseers of humanity!"

The Dragon Kings: Mankind Was a Mistake

Wandering Horizons silently keeps a headcount and pinches the bridge of his nose before tapping his button. "Hate to ruin the mood, guys, but we've got a bit of a problem? There is the looming timer on the Skydome about the Audit- an Audit several millenia in the making I might add- so maybe we should table something that's only been a concern for a couple hundred years and focus on something that's been building up for a few thousand years?"

The Ardurgia Audit: Do Your Fucking Jobs

Cupping her hands, Star stands up, her chair crashing to the ground as she starts a wave of booing. She punches her button, booing louder. "We're trying to elect a glorious queen! So let's elect a glorious Solar Queen, and I know just the one for the job! Someone who knows everything!"

V'Neef Ebeli: She Fucks Demons

A Sidereal with green tattoos on his bare arms slams his button. "I have a better suggestion!"

Malfeas: Put a Proper King on the Throne

Chejop taps his gavel. "We will take a brief recess."

"IT HAS PAUSED!"

The Old Man, Ayesha Ura, and several other of the older Sidereals- along with the Sidereal who suggested Malfeas- file into a side room. If one listens carefully, one can hear the muffled violence.

Tapping his fingers on the table, Horizons slowly turns to Star. It is the immeasurable weight hanging over both of them. The cursed knowledge of knowing what a taco cart is. The realization that they cannot share this knowledge with anyone else who is here.

"Okay, so. This is my idea. Thought only by me. Entirely by me, and no other Sidereals. We need to keep making suggestions. As many as possible. The most possible."

Star nods, staring straight ahead.

"I can get onboard with that."

 

[GreggHL]

I am now wondering what the outcome would be if they had all 100 Sidereals. I suspect I couldn't imagine it. But I'm mostly curious if that's because my sanity is preventing that for it's own sake or if it really is that unimaginable.

Click to shrink...

All 100 would naturally suggest that they need to kill all the Solars, lock them in the Jade Prison, and put the Jade Prison on the Scarlet Throne.

 

[Pyro Hawk]

All 100 would naturally suggest that they need to kill all the Solars, lock them in the Jade Prison, and put the Jade Prison on the Scarlet Throne.

Click to shrink...

What I am hearing is "How the fuck did we turn the Realm Defence Grid into THE Solar Exalted? That's not even supposed to be possible!"
"Solar Exaltation."
"Even then, like, it is specifically meant to be one of the things Exaltations can't do!"

 

[GreggHL]

It was easy enough to determine where Grandfather had gone, as each of his Encounter Suits had a tracker. Noedumari provided the tracking number for the checked-out suit, they loaded it into the positioner in the Forge, and they determined that he had entered the Lost Woods outside of the Fate Exclusion Zone roughly two hours ago.

He has since been walking in circles.

"He's fine," Five declares, "We should figure out where the Ring is."

While Turncloak goes off to do his own thing- which apparently involves some gods who have been subverted by the Neverborn- Five borrows a large, empty room and has Ghost cast the illusion of the Vault, while Kiddo waits by the door so no one gets in.

"So, we're sure Malfeas doesn't know where it is?" the Guardian asks.

"Malfeas would order every demon to seize it if he did," Five responds, pacing the illusion, the reconstruction, "Ghost, advance it please."

The room goes white. Well, less white than every color. Every element. Kiddo curses, but Five had Flash Shutters installed early on, so she can see fine. In face, she can follow very easily. She tilts her head, walking through the direct black of the Sword of Creation to watch the path of the Ring. Artifacts, one must remember, are indestructible. Especially ones so purposefully made as these.

She follows the path of the ring, of second by second advancement, of the white circlet launching at an angle- just off from the epicenter of the explosion.

She quirks her lips and one of her foci shines, a red laser tracking its flight path. Furrowing her brow, she folds her arms. "Ghost, give me a map of Meru."

The Vault shrinks. It becomes in in-the-process-of-exploding city. She's sure it used to be a nice city. Her foci positions itself where the Vault was and shines the laser, and she follows it. Right to the tunnel of adamant, lined with orichalcum.

"It went through the Meru Gate," she says, "Curious. Ghost, map of Yu Shan, please."

The map changes to the Celestial City. The foci repositions itself, towards the particular Gate- Gate 01 on the map. Thankfully a relief map which allows her to calculate the angle and distance. Calculate the speed and destination.

She is very, very good when it comes to things such as angles and velocity. Which means, when she looks at it, she is pretty sure she knows where the ring ended up.

Right into the immense dome at the center of Heaven.

"So either it went right through it and went through another Gate," Kiddo starts.

"Or the Ring is in the Jade Pleasure Dome," Five finishes, "I'm not sure which is worse."





More posters hang from the ceiling, covering a near half circle of the great conference room.

That Which Holds in Thrall: We're Sorry for Killing You

The Incarnae: They Have Prior Experience

Autochthon: Why Choose the Lesser Evil

A Random Deathlord: They Seem to Run the Underworld Pretty Well

Star and Horizons are disappointed they didn't come up with those. That they were natural. The number of Sidereals is now 57 and their respect for their peers is dangerously low.

The Green Lady stands and taps her button. Several Sidereals gasp, and one asks where she came from.

"Now, this is a suggestion, but perhaps we should use the Well of Udr and find another Empress?"

A banner unfurls with a negative exposure picture of the Empress.

Nega-Empress: Maybe She's Not a Bitch

Star slams her button. "We need someone young! Someone chomping at the bit to make a change! Someone who can see clearly, and see through the lies and bullshit! With lasers if necessary!"

The poster unfurls.

Five: Better than the Four Before

Horizons leans in and taps his buzzer. "Why not all of the Alchemical Exalted? Surely they'd add some efficiency to things?"

Alchemical Exalted: Unfeeling Mechanical Overlords

A fellow Serenity slams his button and stands up. "What we're forgetting is that the dominant Exalted of the Blessed Isle is the Dragonblooded! We need to have a ruler who understands the true purpose of the Dragonblooded! Someone who can work with them!"

A banner unfurls with a very randy looking goat man.

Ma Ha Suchi: Get Those Deebs Breeding

"If we want humans to rule the Blessed Isle, why not have the first human?" Horizons asks, leaning back in his chair with his feet on the table, tapping his button with his heel, "On the plus side, he'd hate this."

The Clay Man: He'd Hate This

"If the big deal is the Realm Defense Grid," a Battles shouts out, fists and ass clenched and not dressed for cold weather, "Why not give it a say?!"

The Least God of the Realm Defense Grid: It Needs a Say

Star jumps onto the table and stomps on her button. "We're ignoring the real truths! The real issues! The ones we're afraid to face! Let's let the Throne decide!"

The Scarlet Throne: Let It Sit on Itself

Another Sidereal with green tattoos slams his buzzer.

"Why not remove the prize itself and dismantle the Realm Defense Grid?"

Chejop taps the gavel. "We will take a brief recess."

"IT HAS PAUSED."

Once more, the Old Man, Ayesha Ura, and several elder Sidereals file out, along with the tattooed Sidereal. Followed once again by the sounds of muffled violence. Star and Horizons sit next to each other, leaning back in their chairs and staring at the ceiling.

"We're doing good work," Star says, "This is important. I can feel it."

"I want to lock the doors and set this building on fire," Horizons moans.

She pats his hand.

"Me too, buddy."

The other Sidereals mill about. Discussing candidates, suggestions, possibilities. All worse than the next. True hubris at work, and the two of you know you cannot say anything, because it will give them an excuse and nothing will ever get done, ever again.

The elders return and Chejop taps his gavel.

"IT HAS RESUMED."

Star lethargically taps her buzzer. "So one time I was on assignment in the East and I met this chimpanzee and he was really wise and genuine and honest. I think if we give him a chance, we might have something here."

A Chimpanzee in the East: Return to Monke

"I saw this cat in the South and it was huge!"

Cataclysm: A Purrfect of Paragon

After more candidates- all of them terrible- Chejop taps his gavel. "These are enough candidates. We will begin our final arguments."

Horizons slides out of his seat and begins the general greeting and pressing of flesh session, patting people on their shoulders and doing his best to lay as many social timebombs as possible. Which everyone else is doing to, it's a committee after all. Presence in Absence is a wonderful thing. All of which have the command of not letting anyone get a majority.

Star takes out a prayer strip, writes on it, and ties it around her eyes. From his seat, Chejop visibly sighs, knowing where this is going, as the young Serenties bumps her knee, walking out to the center of the floor.

Star clears her throat. "Let me tell you, everyone. I've spent a long time in Heaven, a long time in Creation, and among other things, a long time in Autochthonia. We don't talk about the latter. However, in that time, I've come to meet someone very dear to me, someone who's knowledge and might is unchallenged."

She pats people on the shoulders as she circles the table. Patting some one the head, as she is blindfolded. "I feel it's of importance to stress that this person is young, but she has raw potential. A desire to truly change the world, and she can do it and then some! The vision and sight to see it through, and if need be she can blast someone's head off at like five hundred paces!"

Hands up, at the front of the chambers, she has dragged their attention with her. Magically. Because she's cheating. "All I ask of you, now, all I need of you, is to vote for Five! Not five votes, but voting for the girl who can uplift us all! Five! She'll explode her way into your hearts!"

Looking out over the meeting room, it becomes obvious that nearly every Sidereal has their iconic Anima flaring.

"Very well," Chejop says, "Let us vote."

 

[GreggHL]

At some point it dawned upon Authochthon, Principle of Invention, Great Maker and one of the Architects of Reality, that the lost woods he was wandering were, in fact, a Lost Woods. As in, a very specific type of labyrinth that Oramus would make for Shits and Giggles back during the Wandering Era and he most certainly passed on to Luna and that means that the silver fox is most definitely a Lunar and that means he is lost.

He should have taken one of the Encounter Suits capable of channeling Adamant Circle sorcery, so he could use the appropriate Countermagic to disenchant this entire place. Because he is lost. He is lost in the way someone who relies entirely on the Loom Positioning Design can be lost, which is very lost.

The Great Maker, King of All Craftsmen, stares at a large oak tree. He has seen this tree before- he swears he has walked by it several times already. It is bad enough that his encounter suit is accumulating an uncomfortable amount of moisture and grass stains, but he refuses. He refuses to believe that he has walked by this tree thirty times while walking in a straight line.

Slamming a palm against the tree, there is a hiss and whistle and a brass stake embeds itself in the wood. He walks off, and as he does so the music begins again, the faint whistle and flutes of doo doo doo- doo doo doo- doodoodoodooDOOODOOODOODOOOOOOO accompanies him.

And then the Encounter Suit re-enters the same clearing from the opposite side and walks back up to the tree, to stare at the brass stake he embedded in the same tree. The grill goes from orange to white.

"WHAT IS THIS?!"

Grabbing his head, the Primordial runs past the tree and out of the forest, screaming. Screaming in time to the jaunty music. The scream fades in one direction, picks up in the other, and continues as he runs past the tree again.

"WHAT IS THIS?!"

And again.

"WHAT IS THIS?!"

And again. The facet eyes rotate out more and more with each lap- it is good exercise and he has surprising endurance for the noted health issues the Great Maker is known for. He manages a few more laps before wrapping both hands around the tree, shaking it. His screams wordless, grill incandescent, facet eyes fully rotated out.

"Ya ha ha!"

Autochthon shrieks, turning, a faint toot of smoke escaping the back pipes of the encounter suit and killing the grass beneath him. At his feet are small forest spirits, a bevy in all, with small green bodies and leaves for faces.

"Hello traveler!" one of them says with cheerful, childlike tones, "You seem to be lost!"

The facet eyes rotate back into their sockets. The grill cools to orange. "…yes. Yes I am. I am Autochthon."

Thunder, faint, echoes in the distance.

"We've never heard of you!" the spirits say, at once, with complete innocence. The one in front continues. "We're the Spirits of the Lost Woods, who guide lost travelers to the rewards that they absolutely, positively deserve!"

The facet eyes rotate slightly. He stands up straight, lowering his arms. They seem genuine. "I see. I am looking for the Lost City of Ardurgia, and was told I could find my way via the Silver Fox who rules these woods."

He could just Geass them. But his granddaughter would be disappointed, as these are but Terrestrial Gods and that means they are weak and soft and are more afraid of him than he is of them. So he will not invoke his Primordial Authority and force them to work for him. He shall be mature about this.

"Yay!" The spirits cheer, and the one in front holds up a wooden cup filled with a iridescent, purple liquid in it. "You can trust us completely! Just drink this, and the way will be revealed!"

 

[GreggHL]

In the end, there was no majority. No option received the minimal number of votes to receive the sanctioned backing of the Five Score Fellowship. There was a four-way tie between Pasiap, V'Neef Ebeli, Ma Ha Suchi, and killing the Solar Exalted, locking their Exaltations in a prison made out of Jade, and placing the prison on the Scarlet Throne.

Star was disappointed Five did not receive any votes, but that is mainly due to the amount of work she put into that speech.

The other Sidereals are filing out- Chejop did not seem happy with this outcome and was planning another Committee for later. Star and Horizons, leaning back in their chairs and staring at the ceilings, hoped to be on assignment then. In Hell.

"Star of the Shiftless Skies. Wandering Horizons."

Star hangs her head over the back of her chair to see the upside down, stony, and somewhat smug face of Faded Lotus.

"Let's go to my office," the higher-ranked Endings says, "It's about Ardurgia. And the Audit."

"Neat," Star says, "We have something to tell you to. You're not going to like it."

Faded Lotus nods. "Day's young."

Endings can be a weird lot. All Sidereals are thematic- they receive their offices in ways that are according to their Caste. Journeys must find their offices in their travels, Battles must win them, Serenties must be gifted them, and so on. Faded Lotus received his office by loading up a god he had plentiful blackmail material on with a rather strong poison and feeding it into a feral office.

The dragon boat trip is fast and conveys the three of you to the Violet Bier of Sorrows, and to Faded Lotus' office, which smells faintly of almonds. "I've invited the other three as well," he says, walking around his desk and sitting down, "So. Please. Tell me nominating V'Neef Ebeli for the Scarlet Throne was a joke."

Star sits down, giving two thumbs up. "There was a strategy."

Faded Lotus folds his hands on his desk. "I am all ears."

"But we can't tell you, because it's classified."

"…so the Nephrack says, 'contagious?' And I say, 'Very contagious.'" The door opens and Turncloak walks in, alongside Five. Followed by Kiddo and Ghost.

Turncloak swings one leg over a seat, then the other, and plops down in it, grunting a word that may be a name. Five sits down politely. Kiddo sits down, while Ghost idly looks around for things to copy into the Inventory. Or outright steal.

"So," Faded Lotus says, as Horizons drags over a forboding looking chest and putting his feet up on it, "The Old Man called a committee meeting where we were looking for candidates for the next ruler of the Realm. Star's suggestions for Empress included, among other things, V'Neef Ebeli, Five, a chimpanzee, and Little Beam."

Star raises a finger. "Don't forget the Scarlet Throne sitting on itself."

Five glances between the three Sidereals. "I theorize that this meeting had the majority of the Five Score Fellowship present?"

"Sixty in total, yes," Faded Lotus says, "Fifty-Five by the end."

Turncloak was scowling- a shock, you are assured. There is a clueless Primordial loose in Creation- the greatest broken arrow of all time- and instead of finding the Great Maker he was listening to this. Although given, he had been busy killing the Listeners of Silence. Again.

"Star made a very compelling argument for putting you on the Throne, Five," Lotus adds.

"And you're about to tell us just how much the lot of you got done during this meeting," Turncloak grumps. He sips from his new mug. It is white, with black lettering, declaring him the #1 Abyssal.

Horizons grins. "Nothing."

"It was great!" Star adds.

Faded Lotus makes no expression whatsoever. It is as if one looked up the dictionary definition of stoic, and found his picture. "I wanted to share information with you about Ardurgia that you would need to know, both regarding future committee meetings, and regarding the upcoming audit. Your actions have convinced me you are circumspect enough that we do not require an Eclipse Oath for this."

Turncloak sits up straight. Someone's giving him answers. That's worthy of attention. That's worthy of respect. He does not notice he's the only one sitting up straight, save for Five, who always is because she is young and eager.

Faded Lotus nods. "Before I go into my spiel, what do you know about Ardurgia?"

"Outside of fate, you've got a gaggle of Celestials there- some of whom are not the most stable of individuals I might add- and House V'Neef. Also a Dome." Wandering Horizons has found a ball and is tossing it up and down.

"There's also a god of some sort who is extraordinarily powerful," Turncloak adds, "Named Mitiera. Also, it's located across the river from the city of Rioghad. That's important."

"The dome is in the center of the city," Five adds, "It is obviously magical. I saw it from the gates when we visited."

"The Lunar killed me," Kiddo adds.

"The Lunar killed him," Star repeats.

"And it's behind on it's paperwork," Horizons finishes, "Very behind. Thousands of years behind."

Faded Lotus nods. "Okay. Ardurgia was set up under Calibration Rules by Five Days Darkness and the Solar Circle who founded it. This is because it was founded over what was considered the dying spot of one of the Neverborn, That Which Persists."

And then the Sidereals sit up.

"The. What?" Star asks, "The. What?"

They start shouting questions. Turncloak turns pensive. Ghost begins rotating. Kiddo softly asks what a Neverborn is.

Faded Lotus smiles.

 

[Pyro Hawk]

Who needs a committee to cause chaos, implied Faded Lotus completely unintentionally. After all, just look at that smug grin, doesn't that just ooze the essence of innocence?

 

[GreggHL]

Who needs a committee to cause chaos, implied Faded Lotus completely unintentionally. After all, just look at that smug grin, doesn't that just ooze the essence of innocence?

Click to shrink...

He may still hold a grudge from them bringing Not-Camelot to the doorstep of his summer retreat.

 

[Nealend]

"Sixty in total, yes," Faded Lotus says, "Fifty-Five by the end."

Click to shrink...

You know, I noticed that everytime one of those green tattooed bastards tried to nominate a Yozi, a break was suspiciously called soon after. I'm guessing they got not so quietly dissappeared during the breaks?

 

[GreggHL]

You know, I noticed that everytime one of those green tattooed bastards tried to nominate a Yozi, a break was suspiciously called soon after. I'm guessing they got not so quietly dissappeared during the breaks?

Click to shrink...

Lytek's having a busy afternoon.

 

[GreggHL]

In the forest clearing, the Encounter Suit sits up. The facet eyes rotate. The head turns one way, then the other. After a moment, the grill lights up, glowing igniting from a full red to orange.

"Those little shits drugged me."

He questions how. But this is a Lunar's territory and those people are a bunch of cheating bastards. He pats himself down, muttering to himself. The King of All Craftsmen, Architect of Creation, Primordial, and Principle of Invention, realizes that he has been mugged. By Terrestrial Gods.

"They took my Ambrosia! And one of my kidneys! Why did I even build internal organs in this encounter suit?"

He picks himself up, climbing to his feet. Muttering more. Perhaps he is getting soft in his old age. Perhaps he needs some sort of spit and vinegar. Still, this is fine. These are only Terrestrials. These are only Yokels. They don't know better.

Opening a hand, Essence shapes into a mechanized bluebird, which rotates into the direction of his missing organ.

"Well at very least I can track it," he says.

He then proceeds to walk off in the direction of the missing organ. At least, until he walks into the trip wire, and the swinging, filled paint can knocks him on his ass.





Faded Lotus sips his tea and lets the questions die down. It is a very long sip. Making eye contact with all of them at once- a learned skill from having to herd his pet rainbow- he lowers the cup and points to Five.

"You first."

"What was considered?" The young Alchemical looks a bit panicked. Good. It is a healthy coping mechanism. "As in the actual death place was determined to be somewhere else?"

Faded Lotus does not immediately reply.

"…please say yes?" Five adds.

Turncloak frowns. His face is pensive. He is thinking- visibly thinking. If he were a machine, one would hear the gears of his mind clicking, turning, contemplating. It helps that, during his time as a loyal Abyssal, he was their most devout. Something of a tryhard, the Deathlord would say. Mostly to his face.

"I'll let Turncloak handle that," Faded Lotus says, and takes a long sip of his tea.

"That Which Persists?" This may be the first time Turncloak showed visible interest in something Faded Lotus has said. "Hold the fuck on. That Which Persists. A Neverborn named That Which Persists?"

"So a bunch of Solars who wanted to dress in black and rebel against authority built a city and got permission to take it off the grid?" Horizons is animated. He was actually giving a shit. "Is that what you're telling us?"

"Let's get back to the part where they built a city over the Tomb of a Neverborn!" Star was white as a sheet and the Baby Seal population was making a comeback. "I feel we need to be freaking out! Am I the only one freaking out?!"

Faded Lotus continues sipping his tea. It is possible it is a self-refilling, artifact cup. Or he is just doing this for effect. But it is Turncloak who speaks.

"There is no Neverborn by that name."

Faded Lotus lowers the cup. "That's correct. Those in the Underworld have greater knowledge of the Neverborn than those in Yu Shan, but if it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, and so on, it was assumed to be a Neverborn." He places the cup on the saucer. "Now, it was not as bad as it sounds. Ardurgia was founded by members of what was known as the Primordial Restoration Project. They theorized it would be possible to retore the Neverborn to life as a way to broker a true peace with the Primordial Host, and prevent future conflicts with the Yozi."

All of them stare at him. Even Kiddo and Ghost, who are not entirely sure what a Neverborn is.

"Among other things, they created the Dome, which is a combination of Adamant Circle Sorcery and Void Circle Necromancy to keep the tomb cut off from outside interference. And more importantly, the reason you have no knowledge of this Neverborn is because it has never been a Neverborn. That Which Persists does just that. She persists."

"She is still Primordial." Five blinks. "That Which Persists is a free Primordial, in Creation, underneath a city that is off of the Loom."

She blinks again. Quickly pulls out a notebook. Reads through notes she took. "I do not recall any Primordial named That Which Persists."

"During the Times of Primordial Glory, she was She Who Strives. She was often associated with Civilization, and was among the Primordials who were considered 'friendly' to mortals in such a way that things can be friendly. A category shared with Autochthon and the Ebon Dragon." Faded Lotus taps his fingers. Behind him, an ornate metronome counts out the seconds of someone's life. It does not elaborate. "When the War started, she severed her own fetich soul, the Mother of Children, in order to fight alongside her kin."

"Which became the City Mother," Turncloak grumbles, "That's why she's so powerful. She's a former Fetich. And why she's in a ghost city like that."

Five recalls her own interactions with Mitiera. The overwhelming, maternal presence.

Star brings up two fingers. "So you have a haunted city outside of Fate with a mostly dead Primordial, which is not fully dead, where your Pet Rainbow is hanging out. Is this right?"

Ghost floats over. "Why are we just hearing about the mostly dead Primordial now?"

"That Which Persists was insensate until recently. Ebeli-" There is a quiet shudder from Star and Horizons. "Was the first to note that she is still alive. We did, however, find that the consultant the Primordial Restoration Project employed did determine that she was alive."

He picks up his tea cup. Sips it for long moments.

"Before running off into Elsewhere and leaving his findings in a time-locked note that only recently was discovered and opened."

A groan, collective, like a wave washes over them.

"Gods dammit Grandfather," Five swears.

 

[Ardenzian]

We did, however, find that the consultant the Primordial Restoration Project employed did determine that she was alive."

He picks up his tea cup. Sips it for long moments.

"Before running off into Elsewhere and leaving his findings in a time-locked note that only recently was discovered and opened."

A groan, collective, like a wave washes over them.

"Gods dammit Grandfather," Five swears.

Click to shrink...

Dunno much about Exalted, but I know enough that shit like that is 100% in-character for Autocthon

 

[GreggHL]

The sticks give way underneath the weight of the Encounter Suit, and the Great Maker, King of All Craftsmen, drops into the covered pit. On the way down, his head slams into a well-placed hive, covering his face in bees, sending him spinning and slamming him face first into another beehive. And another beehive.

And another.

And another.

Until he drops into the pool that is actually filled not with water, but air-filled bags that all released sounds unto farts. Followed by giggling forest children all around him.

Autochthon, the Great Maker, who is as old as Time itself, tells himself that mercy is a strength. It is to be admired. He will not rage. He will be calm. Activating the Plasma Thruster Array in the Encounter Suit, he gracefully rises out of the pit, still swarmed by bees, and clears the hole within moments.

Before the log, hung by ropes and swung with great force, clotheslining him.

Followed by giggling forest children pointing and laughing all around him.

"You give up?" their leader demands, "Or are you thirsty for more?"

The Great Maker, King of All Craftsmen, stands up. To speak, to reason. To calmly explain what he needs.

Which is greeted by overwhelming, thick fog. The facet eyes glow, cutting through the illusion, and he sees everything.

Especially the paint can filled with cement that swings into his face, knocks him into the pit, and once more covers him in bees.

"I am going to murder them all."





Faded Lotus lets them get their swears about Autochthon out of the way first. Five swears, Turncloak rolls his eyes, Star disassociates. Kiddo gets a lecture from Turncloak about what, exactly, a Neverborn is. Faded Lotus just sips his tea.

"To be fair," Faded Lotus continues, "The Solar Deliberative was filled with the sort of assholes who would have killed him for telling them they were wrong."

They all nod in agreement.

"Anyway," Faded Lotus continues, "The other reason I wanted to hold storytime about Ardurgia is that I have a suggestion if you wanted to mess with these committee meetings."

He hands them each a folder. Inside each is a stone tablet. Which is sensible, as it is not paperwork.

Five looks her over as Turncloak retrieves a bottle from his robes, pulling out the cork with his teeth and handing it to Star. She takes a swig, blanches, and hands it back.

On the stone tablets is a geneology, which resembles a bush that is on fire. As well as the general history of a Dragonblooded.

"Faded Lotus, this woman is void-touched," Five points out. She looks closer. "And has received a blessing from Gaia."

"Your candidacy of Ebeli was the equivalent of a firework. Her twin sister, on the other hand, would be the equivalent of a live grenade."

Star blinks. "But we have files on V'Neef Bylar and she's a massive bitch."

"Her secret twin sister. According to V'Neef, Bylar has a different father. Because it's V'Neef." Faded Lotus shrugs.

Truncloak grunts. Kiddo nods. "I met her at the camp in the desert. She has this touch-activated charm she used on me and Ghost and when she told Florivet what she saw he started drinking. Heavier than normal."

"She has a tendency of touching things she should not and receiving forbidden knowledge. Should we bring the Thing That Is with us?"

Turncloak looks up at the elder Endings. "Don't be coy. Where are you going with this?"

Five frowns at the portrait. She feels offended, as if someone grabbed her moe crown and ran off with it.

"Abeti is someone the Bronze Faction would back. She is also Outside of Fate, and someone the Bronze Faction could not locate. Star, do you still take commissions?"

Star blinks and sits up. "Yes. Why?"

"If the Bronze Faction somehow got her on the throne, the first thing Abeti would do is name Prince Arvos Duval as her consort. I would commission a portrait of Chejop's face when he realizes he put a Solar Exalted one heartbeat away from the Throne."

The stare at him. Star nods, marking it on her calendar.

"Did you come up on this idea completely on your own, Faded Lotus?" Five asks.

"It would disrupt the meeting enough that we could get back to fucking work." The Endings sips his tea. "It also allows me to win the bet with Mitiera and V'Neef on what it would take to get those two together. Prize was two bottles of Celestial Wine."

Faded Lotus claps. "Anyway, that was everything. Anything else?"

They glance at each other. Mentally choosing who gets to break the news.

"Autochthon left Yu Shan in an Encounter Suit via the Meander Gate," Wandering Horizons says, beating them to the punch, "And he's currently lost in the Lunar-owned woods outside of Ardurgia. For hours."

Faded Lotus stares at them. The Metronome of Doom continues ticking, and he wonders if the Doom it is ticking to the doom of the entire Eastern Direction.

"We should go."

 

[Ardenzian]

Faded Lotus stares at them. The Metronome of Doom continues ticking, and he wonders if the Doom it is ticking to the doom of the entire Eastern Direction.

"We should go."

Click to shrink...

Chances are the whole place is gonna be on fire by the time the Protags get there?

I would commission a portrait of Chejop's face when he realizes he put a Solar Exalted one heartbeat away from the Throne."

Click to shrink...

Make suure yyou send a copy to Lytek