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

[GreggHL]

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

Make suure yyou send a copy to Lytek

Click to shrink...

Nono, You get Lytek to commission it as well so you can double dip.

 

[GreggHL]

As they entered Creation, Turncloak made it clear there were two ways to handle this. The first involved him filling his pockets with Starmetal until the forest spirits showed them to Autochthon and rolled out a red carpet to get them the fuck back out of their domain. He did not elaborate on the second way, mostly because he really preferred the first.

Ghost provided them transport- partially so there wasn't any bloodstains, and also because they wanted to strut their Sorcery. The Lost Woods were roughly thirty miles noth from the farmer that now had a Reality Engine on his property. Property which was five miles east of Ardurgia.

Entering the glade at the entrance of the Lost Woods, Turncloak titters at the thought of rampant deicide. Titters which stop when he sees the god at the entrance- a rather large raddish holding two maracas.

All of them go silent. Save for Star, who snaps out her fans.

"I'm going to go talk to it."

She quietly walks over to the raddish and gives it a little wave. "Hiiii! Do you mind helping us?"

The raddish shakes his maracas. "Hi pretty lady!" The maracas ring hollow. "Do you have any seeds?"

Next to Five, Horizons cocks an eyebrow. "Thought the demon who steals seeds was in the city?"

Turncloak slowly turns his head to the side, looking over his niece at the Endings. Wondering if he can actually murder someone for a pun. Five just snorts.

Star grins, hopping up and down on her feet. "Okey-doke, so there's two ways this can go. Either you help us and we all walk away happy, or I ask very nicely and you help us and we all walk away happy."

With the unstated understanding that the second version involves her removing the raddish's free will.

"'Kay." It is the tone of the raddish that makes Five shudder. As if it is a giant, plant version of her sisters. "I had a hero looking for my seeds, but I think he got eaten. Anyway! What're'ya looking for?"

Star waves everyone over. "We're looking for what could charitably be called a mechanical aberration with no inside voice and no sense of foresight."

The raddish shakes their maracas. It may mean something. What? Who knows. It may be symbolic for something beyond their ken.

"Oh, him! I know him! My brothers declared him their special friend!"

A noticable wince crosses Turncloak's face. "Starmetal it is."

Five pushes past Star. She stares at the raddish, and rises, slowly, to meet its face. Or where its eyes should be, via her thrusters.

She seems to shudder. Reset, as it were. As if gravity is a suggestion and not a rule. She smiles widely, with more adamant teeth than should fit in her mouth.

"You made my grandfather your special friend? That's great! I know what it's like to have a special friend!"

These backwoods yokels just insulted her family not only by using their word, but by using it on her admittedly deranged, awkward, but loving grandfather. That would not stand. Her smile widens, faceted eyes shining with something like innocence, but unrestrained.

"Can you tell us where to find him? Because it's been soooo long since I've had a Special Friend. And you and I would have so much fun together!"

Turncloak tilts his head, uncertain on her to react. A rare thing indeed. Fear? Admiration? Maybe both?

The Raddish waves his maracas and the trees part. "You should rescue him before the scary Lunar lady who owns these woods gets involved."

The Raddish steps aside and Five power walks through, Star nodding and chasing after her, the others following. Ghost, being a probe, keeps up with Five.

"So what was that?"

"Uncomfortable," she murmurs. The portal is a tunnel of trees and leaves, like a Gate but with a lot more foliage. It exits them into a clearing, which they notice is…less populated by trees than it should be. Many of them broken and bent over. Pits filled with cement. Viscious red painting fallen logs which you hope is berry juice.

"It is not on fire," Five says, "That is a good sign."

"It could also be a sign he didn't bring a flamethower."

A small spirit with a leaf face flies by on a small windmill, followed by others on leaves. Followed by more on foot, running and giving off sounds that are a combination of giggling and screaming.

Five opens her mouth to ask a question.

"I TELL YOU WHAT, LITTLE-MISS-FIRE-AND-GLASS-BALLS-AND-A-THING-FOR-DADDY WAS RIGHT ABOUT YOU LOT! THINGS WERE BETTER WHEN WE WERE IN CHARGE!"

"Never mind," she says.

Stomping blades of grass in his wake, fists clenched around sparkling wind mills, the Encounter Suit marches down the path after the forest gods. The eyes are rotated all the way out. The grill glows blue. A remarkably large swarm of bees circle the head. Up to the waist, the Encounter Suit is covered in tar and grass stains. Above that, to the shoulders, it is covered in an array of fruits, rotted, of such variety that they question the logistics of importing them this far East.

Turncloak half raises his mug in greetings. "Hey, boss. Trouble with the locals?"

Five hurries forward. "Grandfather! Are you unharmed?"

The facet eyes rotate back. The grill cools to angry red. He presses a wind mill into her hands. "This is for you. I have enough for everyone, and I believe I will be making more before the day is over."

A quick examination of the small, adorable charm tells Five that the Starmetal it is made of is remarkably fresh. "You let some of them live? That's very impressive, Grandfather."

The grill cools to orange. Foci rotate around the Encounter Suit. Low powered lasers begin scouring off the rotted fruit and other stains. "They will tell stories of this. There will be cultural shifts. Fear will grip them. Consequences."

Turncloak sighs. "Yeah, I'll give you a pass for that, Boss," he grumbles, "A Lunar pissed all over these woods. It probably knows we're here."

Turncloak takes a wind mill from Autochthon's hand and blows on it. He can almost hear the forest spirit begging for mercy. "I will return to this place. With themobaric equipment. I shall burn this forsaken forest to the ground."

Five admonishes him for shaking, lasering away the bees. "There will be a reckoning. This forest will serve as an example to others."

"You absolutely don't want to do that." The voice rings out from above. They look up, and see sitting above the large, silver and black fox. It waves its tail back and forth, eyes narrowed on the encounter suit.

Kiddo waves. "Hey there!"

The fox smirks. "Hey yourself. Who's the automaton and why is he killing my assholes?"

 

[Enthusiast#117]

If you know they're assholes... why do you have to ask?

 

[GreggHL]

The fox hops down from the branch and lands in sitting position, the fluffy tail wrapped around her feet. The ear twitches and there is a knowing smirk on her face, and she is noteably not going berserk, which is an improvement over the last time Kiddo met her.

Star simply squeals about how fluffy it is. Autochthon ruins the moment.

"Are you the Lunar in charge of this woods? I wish to register a complaint! I have been harrassed, non-stop, by these forest gods since I have set foot in these woods in good faith! Waylaid by traps and without direction! And I have still not found my way to Ardurgia!"

The fox raises a fluffy eyebrow. "First, you're not going in the right direction. Second, again. Who are you, and why am I not murdering you for knowing about a very, very secret city?"

Five climbs up onto the Encounter Suit's shoulder and places a hand over the grill. "Grandfather you're not helping."

Star steps forward, fans out. "Greetings, o mighty Lunar. I am Star of the Shiftless Skies." She points to the vaguely handsome and kind of done Endings. "That's Wandering Horizons, who's a grump." She gestures to the man in black sipping coffee. "That's Turncloak." She gestures to the muffled brass giant. "Autochthon, Primordial, Great Maker and King of All Craftsman. And that's Five."

The fox blinks. "Huh. So the Nerd wasn't talking out of her ass."

Autochthon shakes his grill free. "I have a mind to complain directly to Luna!"

"Luna'd point and laugh, you are aware?" the Lunar sighs, "You're telling me that the forest assholes I manage didn't take the second to confirm that the visitor they were harassing was an actual Primordial and kept being dicks to him until he killed enough of them to get their asses in line?"

The fox stands up on all fours, sweeping the tail back and forth. "Look, I remember you lot from the whole thing with the other city and me repeatedly killing that guy over there. But getting these shitters in line? I can appreciate that."

Kiddo gives her two thumbs up.

"If you ever want to kill more of these assholes to send a message, let me know first. So I can watch. Let's get your asses to Ardurgia."





His pockets overflow with gossamer. His armor slick with the things they would say is blood. The gauntlets grasp the Fae by both sides of the head, driving thumbs into the eyes, and he squeezes, the warbling screams of the Raksha cutting out as the face splits and gossamer sprays out over the chiascuro glass of his helm. The rest of the Fae dissolves and he picks up the jewels that remain, the flames and smoke silhouetting him.

He has more than enough for the armament. He could walk to the nearest desert and return at any time. His sword slick with the blood of Fair Folk and his breath heavy satisfaction. His ears ringing with the screams of monsters. His other hand holds the horn of the first Unicorn he slew in this Court, and the grooves of its horn long since filled with hardened gossamer from the throats he has pierced with it.

Still does the voice of his King urge him on. Still does the Malfean Urge compel him.

Rip and Tear until it is Done.

He strides towards the screams. Sand and gossamer beneath the grooves of his boots. His hands filled with blood and rage. Watching the Fae running towards him in panic.

He stabs the unicorn horn into the throat of the nearest and swings it out, the head rolling to the ground. Grabbing the next in his hand, he pulls back, cracking what it pretends to be bone, pretends to be jaw. Reaching down its throat to grab at its Sword Grace and pulling the knife from its throat to drive into its eye.

The First Slayer turns to the sound of heavy breaths and grunts, to see the sloth, tall as a castle, stomping towards him. A Fae Beast charging with unsteady gait. A closer look tells him why- the being upon its throat that severs its head with a swing of a blade, riding the corpse to the ground and stepping off of it.

The Slayer looks up. This one is tall- taller than him by far. His skin, his face, his multiple eyes remind him both of insects and of blades. He glows with flame, bright and fierce. His sword a singular weapon- made only to Cut. His every step a killing stance.

"These things have no soul, no spirit," the warrior says, "They scream like slaves of the Sky when my blade ends them, in disbelief that they can die."

The First Slayer unshackles his sword. Its teeth chatter and grind, jagged blades spinning along its length. He says nothing, needs say nothing.

He only charges at the screaming hordes of Raksha and the distant Bonefire. The other one, the Sword Wielder, laughs with delight, charging alongside him. No words need to be said.

Their understanding is wordless and violent.



End Chapter 12

 

[Ardenzian]

He only charges at the screaming hordes of Raksha and the distant Bonefire. The other one, the Sword Wielder, laughs with delight, charging alongside him. No words need to be said.

Their understanding is wordless and violent.

Click to shrink...

Awwww, Crota made a friend

 

[GreggHL]

V'Neef Abeti sleeps, and to sleep is to dream. Her dreams of late have not been of the Maw Made of Teeth, but of a hawk, shining white, leading her through a garden. Each night she follows the hawk, and the garden is an endless field of flowers of all colors, all shapes, of endless variety. Each night she walks in her nightgown through this garden, though wet loam and fragrant leaves, and each night does the dream end before she gets anywhere.

Like the Maw Made of Teeth, she believed it to be a dream sent of Gaia, as she had already resigned herself to somehow being the Primordial's favorite.

But this time, when he dream begins and she follows the bird, she soon finds the flowers give way to a circular clearing, the flowers on the edge split and still. Stepping over the divide, she approaches the single table set in the middle, with the creamy tablecloth, the lace doylies, and the umbrella that is made out of what appear to be countless swords stitched together in a circle.

She sits down in the chair, its white wood at closer examination bleached bone, and looks at the plate in front of her. It is not customary to serve shellfish at tea parties. One would expect pastries.

She looks up and sees Ebeli sitting across from her, popping open an oyster and slurping it down. Or, really, 'Ebeli.' "So you're not really my sister," Abeti says.

"I can see why Gaia likes you," the redhead says with a smile, "You look upon this fantastical dreamscape, this endless loam and flowers, and call it for what it is. I'm not your sister, but I'm simply shaped into what your mind pegged for a sister."

She smiles wider. "Relax. Ease your shoulders. Put up your feet. Unfurrow your brow. You're in danger, but at least I'm honest about it. But you always are. You made yourself Gaia's favorite. You live above one of my kin. You desire a Solar Exalted."

She waggles her fingers. "You like to live dangerously, and so here we are."

"You're a Primordial," Abeti says, finger idly circling the lip of her teacup, "Why am I constantly attracting the attention of Primordials?"

'Ebeli' pops open another oyster. "Because you see the opportunities and take them. You could have played the innocent child when your Auntie confronted you, but you seized the mentorship. You could have rejected your Anathema sister, but you accepted her, and her power. You could have simply stood there when Gaia looked upon you, but you bared your teeth."

She devours the oyster, shell and all. "Don't flinch at these dreams, Abeti. It is a gift. A gift for me."

Abeti cracks open a clam with her fingers, tearing off the shell. "What sort of gift," she asks, popping the raw meat into her mouth.

"A chance to talk to you, and so many like you. A chance to watch as you make my choice, over and over and over again."

Abeti chews thoughtfully. "The choice to take," she says, "To be selfish. And I'll admit, I can be selfish at times. But who isn't?"

"Aesthetics, idiots, the dead. Those who desire rules more than results. Those who need to be weak rather than alive." 'Ebeli' licks the last of the meat juice off her lips. "But you're not like that, Abeti. All the world is your sweet sillicate shellfish, if you desire."

Abeti smirks, cracking open another shellfish with her fingers. "If you want to talk to me, don't hide behind illusions. I've seen shit."

Across from her, the black and shadows open their eyes. The endless, formless. Malevolent, but not by choice but by existence, but it does not inspire hatred. A deepness to drown in, a great and bizarre entity that shapes itself in her eyes but refuses to remain a single thing.

Tell my brother I said hi.

Abeti opens her eyes. The roosters crow and the sunlight comes in from the screen windows of the tent she shares with her sister. She sits up, sloughing off the colorful quilt, and looks down to see that there is something in her hand. A piece of crystal, chill to the touch, and vibrant blue. She squeezes it, and the rhymefrost runs up her fist and arm but does not chill her. It fills her. Empowers her. She uses the charm and she knows what it is. Gives a name to the being she spoke to in the dream.

She loosens her grip and the frost dissolves into fragrant air.

"Oh I'm going to have to see what that can do," she whispers.





Chapter 13:

Deepness and the Sky

 

[paradoxdragon]

I see that the Winnower remains as casual as ever and that we've caught up on the Destiny side of things

 

[GreggHL]

I see that the Winnower remains as casual as ever and that we've caught up on the Destiny side of things

Click to shrink...

The Winnower would love the Exalted. All-powerful heroic souls, all of them making their choice over and over again. To take, to break the rules, to become more.

They'd love them.

 

[Thine Spree]

I am entirely looking forward to the party finally meeting and interacting with the Gardener/Winnower and Kiddo's reactions to them.

 

[Enthusiast#117]

I'm more interested in Ghost's reactions tbh. To the Gardener specifically.

 

[GreggHL]

Morning comes to the Lost City of Ardurgia. The Sun crests the mountains and the Dome at the center shimmers from the sunlight. Soldiers- once rag tag civillians- march in drilled formation, the night shift upon the walls relieved by the morning regiment. Ghosts which had set up their night shops migrate back into the catacombs, waving their goodbyes to the living customers.

Mitiera, Mother of Children, emerges from the stone archway near the Dome. It smooths back into street behind her, and the purple skinned god glides her way through the city streets. She passes behind one building, the Hopping Puppeteers still repairing the brickwork. On the other side of the city, she emerges from behind a tent in the V'Neef sector, watching as Abeti emerges from her tent- though to call it a 'tent' is like calling a mansion a 'house.'

It certainly is the size of one, and even from here, Mitiera can sense the flagstone Ebeli seized. Which is her perogative- the very flagstone where Ligier was accidentally beckoned into her city.

Mitiera watches Abeti walk out, already changed to her typical dark green dress, her hood pulled down and her scales on full display. Though the Mother's eyes are drawn down to the crystal in her hand, and she cocks an eyebrow. There is a familiarity from it. As if she knows it from somewhere.





Morning rises on the Lost City of Ardurgia. With a burst of golden light, V'Neef Ebeli appears on the street leading to the main gate. The sunlight bleaches the wall of the gatehouse next to her.

"Give me a second…"

Still glowing, caste mark slowly fading from her forehead, she lets go of her staff and its it float on the spot she arrived at. Places her hands against the gatehouse wall, she hums, the color returning as she somehow massages it into the brick.

V'Neef Ebeli learned a spell that allowed her to teleport forty miles at a time, and has embraced this spell with the absolute gusto of someone who could now teleport forty miles at a time. Snapping her fingers, the staff returns to her hand, and she climbs up the stairs of the gatehouse, wondering how some of her sisters manage these steps in heels.

"Need to make myself some artifact shoes," she mutters to herself, climbing to the top of the main gate. The sunlight welcomes her, and the soldier in brass lamellar salutes, fist to his chest. She returns the salute.

"Quiet morning?" she asks.

"Afraid not, Miss," he responds, "We've got guests. The fox is with them, though, so we can presume they're friendly. Ish."

Ebeli walks over to the edge of the wall, leaning on it and tuning her sight to the supernal. As a Solar Exalted, she has access to Charms. Among those Charms are those for her eyes, that let her see at great distances and with great accuracy. Hence, past what the soldier can see with the naked eye, she sees- and yes, she sees the fox, their Circle's Lunar, leading a group. Most of which she remembers from some weeks ago, when Rioghad showed up across the river. The two Sidereals, looking like they want to be anywhere else. Turncloak, trying to look like he doesn't know anyone present. The…person who looks like Takkun. Who she should talk with later. The Alchemical girl, holding the hand of the immense brass automaton.

"Wait a minute."

She tunes her sight, her caste mark glowing on her forehead. She sees the very Essence within the Encounter Suit, and realizes that Essence is exactly who she thinks it is. Exactly who she fears it is. Well, maybe not fears, but she doesn't really have a healthy sense of fear when it comes to Primordials and Primordial-adjacent beings.

She does, however, understand that their Lunar is with them. That their Lunar is leading them, presumably from her territory. Which is filled with asshole forest spirits.

She blinks and steps back. Tenting her fingers, she rolls her hands, tapping tips together and drawing them out to form the correct Mudra. The golden cherub appears in her hands, and she speaks.

"Mitiera, just letting you know that Autochthon, the Great Maker, is approaching the front gates."

The Infallible Messenger flies off. In the distance, there is the soft, yet alarmed, motherly swear. Ebeli nods, and runs down the stairs.

Arvos has already arrived when she exits the gatehouse.

"Mitiera just ran by, swearing," he says, "What did you do?"

"Autochthon's on his way to the front gates," she says, grabbing him by the wrist, "He came out of the Lost Woods. Diplomacy. Now."

The gates grind up, raising. The two Solars duck beneath the teeth of the wrought metal and onto the paved roads towards the approaching group. Both of them make it a point to activate every social charm they have. Ebeli has encountered the Great Maker before, and carried home stories. Arvos, on the other hand, has had to deal with insane geniuses. He's walking next to one right now.

They stop in front of the group and Ebeli curtsies. Arvos bows.

"Welcome to Ardurgia, Great Maker," Arvos says, "Mitiera will be along shortly. How may we be of service in the meantime?"

The facet eyes rotate. "One Two Eight. Zero Eight Two. Mm, yes. V'Neef Ebeli. We met in the Southern Desert." A burst of steam escapes the grill. "I DEMAND TO-" He clears his throat. "Apologies, I am not in the best of moods. Due to an incident earlier. I am here to speak to a resident of your city, and insist upon doing so at once."

At the gate, a purple foot kicks open the gatehouse door and Mitiera runs out, fixing her robes in place. They are shiny, smoothed, and varied shades of purple. She briefly vanishes and reappears in front of the Solars, bowing deeply.

"Great Maker, welcome to Ardurgia. It has been some time." She does not point out it has been some time since he ran away to Elsewhere and left a time released note. That would be rude, after all.

"Yes, Mother of Children. Things are happening, at a pace more accustomed to mortals than immortals. I need to speak to the former Emissary of Hell. At once."

There is silence. A long silence from the two Solars and the former Fetich. Ebeli raises a hand. "You're here for Marilaq A'lam?"

The brass head slowly turns to her. "Marilaq A'lam."

Ebeli nods, as if trying to wrap her head around the concept of The King of All Craftsmen being here to talk with the former Emissary of Hell. "Okey doke. I'mma gonna go get her-"

She stamps her staff, and with a burst of light vanishes. Brass shutters close around the jewel eyes of the Great Maker. "It is nice to be taken seriously for once."

Next to him, the fox looks up. "Is that rare?"

Autochthon sighs, shoulders slumped, and that is all the answer they need. The Lunar reaches with her tail and pats his hand with the hand that emerges from her tail. No one comments on it.

 

[GreggHL]

They see the column of sunlight inside the city walls. Clearing his throat, Wandering Horizons steps forward. "Wandering Horizons, Chosen of Endings. My partner is Star of the Shiftless Skies, Chosen of Serenity. Mitiera, Heaven is planning an audit of Ardurgia now that it's an active city again, and we'd like to get the paperwork sorted."

Mitiera takes a moment, and nods. "Yes. Of course. I assume the indexing requirements of Yu Shan have changed?"

Horizons sighs with a nod. "You've been out of the loop. We'll go over the stacks and make sure everything's ready to be sent to home office."

Mitiera, for her part, only gives away a single twinge of her cheek. "Of course. Follow me to my Sanctum, and apologies for the mess."

She glides away, the two Sidereals following them. Five exhales. It is going, in her opinion, well.

"So how many hours was he in the woods?" Arvos asks. One of the Encounter Suit's eyes twitch. "That long, I see," the Zenith adds.

"I apologize for our sudden arrival." Five clears her throat. "We had no intent of causing a sudden disruption of your daily routine."

Arvos shrugs. "Intent and result rarely align, but it is appreciated. That the woods aren't on fire and the Great Maker is showing patience with us is a sign you have things under control, so thank you."

Arvos flashes a smile, and Five's cheeks flush. The Great Maker and the Abyssal spare her a glance, and turn their gaze to the Zenith. "That being said," Turncloak says, sipping from his mug, "I would appreciate a meeting with the…not-Neverborn in your city. I understand the Dome conceals her body?"

"It conceals the stairwell leading down to the Mouth of Oblivion, where her body hovers above." Autochthon balls a hand and coughs. "It was considered the best option to keep a Shadowland from spreading at the point of the mortal wound. I invented the Void Circle spell they used as part of the ritual."

Arvos nods. "We try not to stare too long at the End of Everything."

Turncloak sips his coffee. It is cold. This day isn't getting any better. "Boss, how many boreholes to the Labyrinth are in Creation?"

Autochthon does not look him directly in the eye. Arvos sighs, hands folded behind him. Possibly magic that keeps him from saying something smart-assy about this. "I'll have our Abyssal escort you to meet That Which Persists. And you?"

Kiddo blinks. He realizes people are talking to him. He makes a gesture, and Ghost appears over his palm, floating up to his shoulder.

"We're just happy to be involved, buuuuuut is there anything you need us to do-"





Kiddo was immediately sent to the Catacombs. Not because it was haunted- it absolutely is haunted, and Ghost keeps themselves immaterial and right above Kiddo's shoulder at all time while they pass the milling about ghosts. Plural ghosts, and not the kind that Ghost considers friends, family, and coworkers.

Washed out after-images of people, milling about pools of memories, floating menacingly, or sitting at tables in the gloom.

All the eyes turn and track Kiddo. He walks with purpose, his helm open. "Remind me why we're down here again?"

"The Prince asked us to investigate the tombs at the bottom of the catacombs and make sure that there weren't any monsters down there." He walks past a translucent cabbage stand, where the seller is advertising translucent cabbages. "This is apparently an issue here."

"Oh that's wonderful. I love that. I love that a lot. Are we doing this alone?"

"We've got hel…hell."

The doors to the tombs are immense, wrought with iron and old wood. Seals placed upon it in Old Realm to warn of the place- the names of the Chosen who lie there, consecrated. Of warnings against theft and the consequences thereof.

Standing at the door is a ghost, but he seems more solid. His armor is black lamellar, his face pale and his hair and stubble white. Not like the red it was in life.

He has a longsword sheathed at his waist, and a masked helm under his arm, and he stares at Kiddo with the same befuddled confusion as the Guardian stares at him. Ghost appears, floats over, staring at the ghost's face. The plates fold in, the eye narrowing.

"This is new."

"I agree," the ghost mutters, "Prince Arvos told me to be prepared but didn't say for what."

Ghost floats back over to Kiddo. The plates rotate, Ghost looking to Kiddo, and then at the ghost, and then back to Kiddo.

"Iselsei Takkun?" Kiddo asks.

"Yes," the ghost responds, "Sworn in service to the Valkyrie of the Fallen. I thought my body was destroyed, but you're not a zombie."

Kiddo peers upwards, as if asking if this is a test. "Is this going to be weird?"

"I am sworn in service to the people who destroyed my army and regularly sit down for beers with the Blood Ape who ate me. I have questions, but we can talk along the way."

Kiddo nods, drawing his white flamepiece out of his inventory. "Yeah. I've got questions, to."

 

[Pyro Hawk]

I am extremely eager to read what comes of this 'chat'. Especially because we know that those who knew a Guardian before their resurrection tend to get weirded out at a minimum by the Guardian. So what's going to come of a Guardian and their pre-Death Self?

 

[GreggHL]

I am extremely eager to read what comes of this 'chat'. Especially because we know that those who knew a Guardian before their resurrection tend to get weirded out at a minimum by the Guardian. So what's going to come of a Guardian and their pre-Death Self?

Click to shrink...

Because of Creation's completely borked Lethe, there's unique opportunities for Guardians to meet the actual ghosts of their pre-Guardian selves. It's like Season of the Haunted, but with more sexual tension because they're both Dragonblooded.

 

[GreggHL]

A brief introduction to the Celestial Rainbow of Ardurgia:

Bold Jumping Spider: The Dawn Caste, and more or less the one Exalted not in some way related to the creepy not-a-Neverborn in the city's basement. Spider is the student of Faded Lotus, one of the main sitcom arch nemesises of the Chucklefucks, and like any Exalted Student she exists to both learn lessons from Faded Lotus and also continually tries to get in his pants. Spider ran into Ebeli a few years ago when the latter was running from the Satrapy that she Exalted in, realized this young Sorcerer had no survival skills, and has been buddies with her since. Spider is one of those Solars who the Wyld Hunt passes over because, in their opinion, 'They wouldn't be that blatant.' It does help that she is smart about it, and uses her War charms to direct her mercenary company, which is also more or less the living population of Ardurgia. Also has a chainsaw sword and the self-awareness that fighting like a glorious Dawn Caste leads to early deaths.

Prince Arvos Duval: The nicest member of the party and their Zenith. He is Mitiera's child, and the botched result of her experiments to create a new fetich soul for That Which Persists. Well, botched in that what she ended up making was not only completely human, but heroic enough to Exalt. Arvos is nice- he is smart, he is handsome, he is also more or less a Paladin when you get down to it. He is friends with the Ghosts that live in Ardurgia- as they more or less raised him- but at the same time is the person who steps out with a smile and that one Charm that makes people he's nice to develop a positive intimacy towards him, so he is unintentionally developing a potential harem. Mitiera urges him to get to it, for she does want grandchildren. Everyone ships him and Abeti, but Abeti wouldn't mind a harem of her own.

V'Neef Ebeli: The Twilight Sorcerer and resident Demon Fucker, though she will insist she's saving herself for summoning Erembour. Ebeli Exalted when she figured out that the mote equations used in old sorcerous manuals were referring to a different type of Essence Mote than the Dragonblooded Mote, and her life has been defined ever since by her being a nerd. Ebeli lives by the simple maxim; "If demons are not solving your problems, you are not using enough of them." Early on in her Exalted life, she found out she was the reincarnation of Five Moons, a First Age Sorcerer who was even more of a blatant Demon Fucker than she is, and has inherited both his demon summoning staff, and his Manse, which was his love nest with a Third Circle Soul of Malfeas. Giant nerd. Absolutely giant nerd. Her fighting style is to sit in a lawn chair and cheer on her army of Blood Apes while sipping a mimosa.

Valkyrie of the Fallen, Solveig Rhimeheart: The party Abyssal. Solveig is the resident murderhobo who is remarkably pretty for someone constantly hung over and sleeping in haystacks. She also has the highest body count, exceeding that of all of Ebeli's Blood Apes combined. Solveig is the sole Abyssal sworn to That Which Persists, despite it not being a Neverborn but close enough for tax purposes, and essentially leads the efforts to revive the near dead Primordial. Has a massive axe, looks like a sort goth Zeta from Granblue Fantasy, and is actually the long lost daughter of the Bull of the North. Which means she's fae blooded, as in this Creation, the Bull is a Raksha.

The Lunar: Valkyrie's Lunar Mate. She normally takes the form of a silver and black fox, providing optimal cuddling opportunities, and keeps the local asshole forest spirits in line. Runs a breeding program to create a miniature Tyrant Lizard for people to ride into battle. Tends to keep to herself, but appreciates the party because they helped her get some sweet, sweet vengeance.

------

V'Neef: Youngest Exalted daughter of the Scarlet Empress, the Woodiest Wood Aspect to Ever Wood Aspect, V'Neef saw the writing on the wall and upon realizing that her Solar Daughter was in a defensible position outside of the blast radius she grabbed her House and made a run for it. V'Neef is not the best mother but Mitiera has made her a bit of a project. It does not help that she looks like Ebeli's younger sister, and flaunts it as much as she can.

V'Neef Abeti: Twin sister of V'Neef Ebeli, and blessed by, at last count, Gaia, the Gardener, and the Winnower. She is apparently catnip for Primordials. Abeti is adorable and if anything happened to her the Rainbow would kill everyone and then themselves.

Mitiera, the Mother of Children: Former Fetich of She Who Strives, and City Mother of Ardurgia. Mitiera is the very incarnation of the maternal presence, and acts as the mother figure for the Rainbow. She is motherhood in all its positive aspects- stern when necessary, loving when she can be, and gently guides the Rainbow to be better people. Runs the schools in Ardurgia for the children as she can still co-locate. Has a...complicated relationship with That Which Persists.

That Which Persists: Primordial Principle of Civilization. When the Exalted struck her down in the War, she did not die. She persisted. Bereft of her soul hierarchy, she has bled for five thousand years but does not die. Currently chilling in the basement of Ardurgia and about to meet the First Abyssal.

 

[Pyro Hawk]

Which means she's fae blooded, as in this Creation, the Bull is a Raksha.

Click to shrink...

... Okay, how did this happen whilst not knocking 'canon' completely off the rails, and what the hell have the consequences been now that Canon is off the rails so divergences can rapidly begin accumulating?

Abeti is adorable and if anything happened to her the Rainbow would kill everyone and then themselves.

Click to shrink...

How much of this is to ensure Gaia and now the Gardener and Winnower don't decide to educate the local area about what opinions can cause?

 

[GreggHL]

... Okay, how did this happen whilst not knocking 'canon' completely off the rails, and what the hell have the consequences been now that Canon is off the rails so divergences can rapidly begin accumulating?

Click to shrink...

It actually doesn't knock canon off the rails, because in the Compass of Terrestrial Directions: North book, it offers possibilities for what Yurgen Kaneko and his mustache are. This includes the Old Bull, where it's his ancestor Joachim Kaneko and an elder Dawn Caste, the Abyssal Bull, who almost died on the ice and became edgy, the Lunar bull who transforms into a woolly mammoth, and the Bull of Stories, which is a Raksha that wandered in, heard all these myths of a great Warlord, and decided to get in on that shit.

 

[GreggHL]

A burst of sunlight from outside the tent flaps and the muted, but genuinely polite greetings of 'Anathema' tell them that Ebeli has just arrived. Old habits are hard to break, but even the more pious amongst House V'Neef have recognized that Ebeli, once least favorite daughter, now somewhere in the top ten, has done a lot of good for the Great House.

So neither of the participants of the game of Gateway are particularly surprised when the flap swings open and Ebeli dives in. As in all things, she does so dramatically.

"Marilaq! You've got a visitor!"

Feet in the red jade foot bath, dressed in a muumuu, and heavily pregnant, the former Emissary of Hell looks to the Sorcerer and cocks an eyebrow. "A visitor? That's…rare." She pulls her swollen feet out of the bath, turning to the entrance and Ebeli. "It's not from Hell, is it?"

Across the table, her Gateway opponent, V'Neef, cocks an eyebrow.

"You will not believe me if I say it," Ebeli responds, "Use Measure the Wind and try to remain calm."

Marilaq A'lam sighs, and exhales in preparation for taking another, deeper breath. Her nose twitches, taking in the Essence. She is a powerful, somewhat old demon of the First Circle, specially made, specially trained by the Yozi. She is centuries old, old enough to remember the Usurpation and the end of the First Age. She is a master of intrigue and subtlety and her game face is legendary.

The moment she registers, recognizes the Essence of the visitor, her eyes go wide and she screams. She falls out of the chair, skittering back, her face going chalk white and pawing at the floor to skitter back faster. Aiming for the far corner of the tent cabin. Someplace safe and away from him.

V'Neef is out of her chair in an instinct, grappling her from behind in a hug. Ebeli grabs a piece of paper from a table, knits it together with her glowing fingers, and tosses the paper bag over, her mother holding it over the former Emissary's mouth so she can take deep, calming breaths.

"It's okay," V'Neef says, "Breath. Breath, honey. You're safe here."

Eyes still bloodshot, Marilaq A'lam slowly pulls down the bag. "Why is he here? How is he here? For me?"

V'Neef gives a pointed look to her daughter. One that is very verbose, and asking to explain who is here and why they are giving their guest- albeit the guest who is here under arrest and in their custody- a panic attack.

"Autochthon is here and he wants to speak with Marilaq," Ebeli explains, "As to why…"

The Sorcerer shrugs. "I-Mitiera?"

The cabinet drawer that comes up to her hip slides open, its top draw extending out. Mitiera's head pops up. "Autochthon wants to ask Marilaq A'lam questions regarding the espionage she performed for the Yozi as Emissary of Hell."

Ebeli turns to the head-in-a-draw. "It's Autochthon and Marilaq is a demon."

The Mother of Children nods. "He is currently grumpy because he has spent five hours lost in the woods. We'll need to make sure he behaves himself."

V'Neef helps Marilaq up. "I'll take care of it. First thing's first, let's get you dressed in something nice. I'll be the Great Maker's escort for today."

Ebeli blinks. "Mitiera, you know him, right?"

"He is easily offended, holds grudges, has a tendency to be paranoid, and is mono-focused to the point of mania on whatever interests him at the present time."

V'Neef smirks. "He sounds like Mnemon. I'll be fine. Tell him we'll be ready in twenty minutes."





Once again, Ebeli appears in a burst of light, manifesting through her very very useful teleportation spell which she finds only slightly less useful than demons. She appears over the bleached paving stones near the main administrative district of Ardurgia, and thankfully to the sound of the Great Maker's delighted laughter which allows her to unclench.

At first glance, the metal giants resemble Warstriders. At second glance, the louder clanking, louder whirring, and the multiple people crewing them show them to be a bit more complex. The pulley and gear system keeps it moving, keeps the turrets on its shoulders stable, and the three giants move in practiced synchronization as they aim and practice fire their ballistas.

"As you can see," Bold Jumping Spider says, Dawn Caste mark on her brow, "The extra crew allows better reloading and firing for weapon platforms on the striders. We dismantled the prototype and adapted it into a more easily, mass produced design and use it as a supplement for our supernal forces."

Arms folded, the Great Maker strokes his grilled, brass chin. "Yes, using simple machines to simulate what would normally be accomplished through magitech. Very innovative! I approve!" The Great Maker laughs. "I approve whole-heartedly!"

Ebeli glances down and sees a starmetal wind mill in Spider's hand. She walks over, standing next to her long-time friend.

"How long was he in the forest?" Spider whispers.

"Five hours."

Spider sucks her teeth.

"Great Maker," Ebeli says, curtseying, "Marilaq A'lam will be with you in twenty minutes. V'Neef of House V'Neef will accompany her due to her condition."

"Condition?" The Encounter Suit turns to her. "Quite frankly, I am surprised a spy of the Yozi left Yu Shan alive, so I am curious."

"Marilaq A'lam is pregnant," Ebeli explains, "The father is the Sun. It's complicated."

"Ah. Yes. The Laurel. Well, that's the price of being perfect when no one else is, but it was hardly the poor boy's choice."

 

[Ardenzian]

"Ah. Yes. The Laurel.

Click to shrink...

Context needed, is that part of why the Sun is the Sun, or something different?

 

[GreggHL]

Context needed, is that part of why the Sun is the Sun, or something different?

Click to shrink...

The Laurel is one of the four artifacts that the Sun is associated with- the Dayspear, the Aegis, the Horn, and the Laurel.

Following the Primordial War, the Sun had mankind create artifacts, and through these artifacts took his current, human form. Each artifact is associated with one of his perfect virtues, and as such allows him to cast down one of his Virtues when needed.

The Laurel is associated with his Compassion.

 

[GreggHL]

Takkun slides the sword against his sleeve, skimming off the ectoplasm. The dissolving mound at his feet was a carrion hound- it will be back, in some time. Perhaps not here, for the Underworld is a strange and directionless place, but he did not give it an eternal death. More kicked it out.

Sheathing his blade, he walks to the door. It is large- big enough for two people side to side. Or the person who is laid to rest inside. The lock on the door is artifice and magical, unbreakable to mortal tomb raiders. At the altar of the entrance, three simple figurines are assembled- a tall man, a tall woman, and a small girl.

Takkun grunts, furrowing his brow, and moves the tall man slightly back, breaking the even row.

"What are you doing?"

Kiddo holsters his flamepiece, stepping over the dissolving form of another hound. Takkun turns before the Guardian can cover the distance. Before he can seize him if he's feeling righteous.

"This is the tomb of one of the Solar Exalted who ruled Ardurgia during the First Age. His request when the Usurpation became obvious was to be fettered, so he could protect the Ardurgia that exists in the Underworld."

He gestures to the figurines. "The ghosts and creatures that get into these tombs tend to be overly logical. They view disorder as poisonous and they try to correct it. The City Mother realized what was happening when one of their dead Kings wandered off into the Lethe, centuries back. It's a necessary task."

Ghost floats over, scanning the figurines. The plates rotate. The suspicion is obvious. Leaning agains the door of the tomb and folding his arms, Takkun meets Kiddo's gaze.

"Go ahead. Ask your questions."

The silence hangs. Kiddo wonders if other Guardians have gone through this. Finding their past selves, somehow. Confronting the monsters they may have been. Hands unclench and clench again. This place is quiet. Dark. The walls are thick.

He's tempted.

"Why?" Kiddo asks.

"Why was I a monster?" Takkun asks. There is a melancholy to it. He idly turns to Ghost. "He doesn't remember anything, does he?"

Ghost cuts out their scan, plates rotating. "No. At most, Guardians have a sense of déjà vu, maybe dreams of who they were."

Ghost floats back over to Kiddo, hovering over his shoulder. Plates narrowed around the eye.

"Not that it helped him when he came across a certain fox."

Takkun nods. "I don't spend much time in Ardurgia. My Mistress has given me tasks to make a good difference in the underworld. To be a hero to the spirits and lost souls. I think it's also so that the Lunar doesn't have to see my face, and I don't blame them."

Takkun sighs. The breath is heavy and with frost. "Alright. Let's start from the beginning. Three hundred years ago, a handful of my ancestors tried to assassinate the Scarlet Empress and failed. They died. The Realm then killed every adult in House Iselsei and enslaved every single one of the children. Couple of centuries later, I was born in a secret estate in the South under the joint control of House Mnemon, House Peleps, and House Ragara. From birth I was taught that I carry the sin of my ancestors, and my life is worthless."

Takkun pinches the bridge of his nose. This isn't the first time telling this. Not even to himself. "I come of age. I exalt at the age of thirteen. Not bad, not great. I become an agent of the Unseeing Eye, because I have been raised, since birth, to understand that I am nothing more than a damned soul that will live and die paying for the sin of an ancestor who died three centuries ago."

He rubs his stubble. Ghosts are formed in the minds eye. The self image. Perhaps he was clean shaven, but now reflects this face in front of him.

"By coincidence, or luck, or maybe providence, I find proof. The assassination was coordinated by the Scarlet Throne. The Empress had decided, with the leadership of House Iselsei, to turn the house into fanatical agents." His jaw twitches. "I track down my great-great-great-great grandfather. I kill him with my bare hands. I become an Outcaste and decide to free House Iselsei and to do so I need an army."

"How does this involve slavery?" Kiddo quietly asks.

"You think I came up with the idea out of nowhere to attack a beastman village in the fucking woods and enslave them?" Takkun shakes his head. He doesn't laugh. "That was a job for the Guild. It paid. I was an Outcaste and an Exile. I had nothing but military training and a good daiklave, and if I went back to the Realm I would be executed. I worked for who would pay me, and out here? It's the people who want bad things done."

He stands up straighter. Hand resting on the pommel. "I kept telling myself the next job would be enough, that I'd take my army and march on the estate. And this one was. I actually contracted a damned good sorcerer, Mnemon Ghennin. Then he turns and runs, because, as he said, he doesn't take jobs where his kids are involved."

Takkun shrugs. "Then I died. And Mistress bound me, tortured me through insanity back to sanity, and now I'm working for her, Ghennin's demon-summoning daughter, the Dawn Caste who broke my army, and V'Neef herself."

He lets the silence hang. Then adds, "You asked."

Kiddo rubs his chin, brow furrowed. "The way she talked about it; it made it sound like you were completely responsible."

"I led the army; I led the raid. In every way that matters to her, I am. If I didn't take the job, someone else would have. I deserved my death, and I deserved the pain it came with." He turns and starts walking down the hallway. "Don't waste your breath explaining economics to the traumatized."

Kiddo follows, frowning. Ghost shines, lighting the way. The air is thick, thick with the smoke of memories. Takkun sniffs, and he frowns.

"Weird. Something's weird."

Ghost's plates retract. "What. What?"

"Something wrong, buddy?"

"We've got company-"

"The worlds have thin walls in places of great death, and few deaths are greater than those of betrayal." The air…tinges. Like emerald smoke. A faint ringing of a bell, an incense burner sweeping, side to side.

"Buddy," Kiddo says, forming his sunfire maul in his hand, "What is that?"

The voice catches on Ghost's…well, equivalent of throat. Out of fear. Out of disbelief. Out of horror.

"Hive."

Bare, clawed feet scrape along the stone. Leather robes like a grand priest sway, frayed at the edges like they were taken off of a corpse. The bare arms are covered in exoskeleton, in insectoid chitin. The face is like a beatle, horns flowing out to the sides. Until one sees the mouth, beneath the three eyes, between the plates. The very human teeth and tongue.

"At peace, Sky Servant. At peace, risen Spirit. I am but a tourist here, curious of this world's arts of Necromancy."

The voice is soft. Smokey. Practiced.

Takkun thumbs the guard of his sword, blade showing.

"This tomb is private property. Identify yourself."

The creatre nods. "Of course. I am Nokris."

 

[GreggHL]

Wandering Horizons allows himself to cry, and they are tears of joy. Before him are carts. Carts and carts and carts, as far as the eye can see. They are filled- not to bursting, but filled to exact capacity. Placed in folders, marked and color-coded, and organized by category, then by century.

Paperwork, as far as the eye can see.

Perfectly organized paperwork.

Star is hugging Mitiera, happily sniffling. The Mother of Children pats the bluenette's head, walking them around randomly dropped toys. The Sanctum does serve as the occasional daycare when no other option is available, after all.

"We were making regular reports every Calibration up until the Usurpation and Ardurgia being declared a Dead City," Mitiera explains, "While we did not anticipate Ardurgia returning to life, we still held out hope and we have been keeping track of our paperwork since then."

Horizons wipes the tears from his eyes. "It's greatly appreciated, Mitiera. This will make the filing considerably easier."

Mitiera nods respectfully. The floors shift, the carts moving to the side and a table with tea and fresh scones sliding out. Star makes a questioning sound, still locked in the maternal embrace.

"Come. Let's talk," the Mother of Children says.

She eases Star into a chair, and sits down herself. Horizons sighs, sits down. He takes out a flash, unscrews it, and pours something angry and black into the tea. Horizons sips it, maintaining eye contact. Mitiera can smell the liquor from where she sits.

"Okay," Star says, holding the teacup with both hands, "Is this a friendly chat or are we being adopted?"

Mitiera's eyes scan over their elbows, confirming none are on the table. "The Great Maker has returned, and I was not aware of this until a few weeks ago. As you are aware, he was a consultant on the Primordial Restoration Project during the First Age. I remember him being less well-behaved."

Her eyes fix on them. She smiles.

"So, I believe you need to tell me what happened."





Ebeli sits at the round administrative table. The Fox is curled up around her like a weighted blanket. She considers her words, considers the events of the day. Hans, her Seneschal, her most enlightened of her Blood Ape servants, stands at attention next to her chair. On her other side, Octavian, the Living Tower, stands at attention. After long moments, Ebeli speaks.

"My mother is on a date with the Great Maker."

The immense Kappa, the Quarter Prince, tries to find the words to convey the problems he has with that sentence. He settles on silence, as so not to offend his sorcerer. Hans is more direct.

"What size cult would she get if she…"

The other person at the table, Arvos, stares at Hans. As if daring him to finish that thought. The Blood Ape shakes his head and stands up straight. Arvos leans forward, elbows on the table, hands folded in front of his face.

"So," he says, "Your opinion. Should we introduce the Great Maker to the Captain?"

"Do we want to introduce Autochthon to the idea of inter-universal travel?" From Ebeli's shoulder, the fox peaks her head up. The fox looks at Ebeli, then at Arvos. She shakes her head, and melts back into the blanket. "I mean, from what Abeti told me about Kiddo and 'Ghost' he already knows, but this is even weirder."

Arvos hums an agreement. "At least he's happy with Spider's gearstriders. Still, five hours? And there's still forest gods left?"

The fox pokes her head out once again. "I'm still shocked not a single one of them checked to see who he was. This was natural selection at work."

"I'm surprised the forest was still standing," Arvos says with a sigh, shaking his head, "Where are they now?"

Ebeli closes her eyes. She ponders, thinking. Sighs.

"Mum just press-ganged all my Angalkae into providing background music in the eastern district park and they're holding court at the gazebo." She sighs, louder. "I'm going to have to pay the girls extra. They did not sign up for this."

 

[GreggHL]

Ghost hovers, staring. Frozen in place. The air around Nokris glows green, as if burned by pyreflame. The corridor behind him is filled with smoke and incense, as if he has just left a really sketchy hookah bar. In the far distance they can see an eye, or a maw, or something between an eye and a maw, retreating.

"Hey Buddy," Kiddo says, still holding his maul, "What's a Hive?"

"A sad state, pressed by the belief of the necessity of final death," Nokris says.

Kiddo points the hammer at the floating death wizard. "I was asking Ghost."

"Enemies. Enemies of the Traveller. Enemies of the Guardians. Enemies of everything. The Hive are a cancer on entire worlds and they are servants of the Darkness who show no mercy towards anything and anyone."

Kiddo, understandably, gives the floating bug person the side eye. "He speaks truth. My father is their king, and he guides them as their Navigator and Guildsman, in pursuit of the Sky so he may cut it down and prove himself stronger. Most of them follow him. I am a heretic. His secret shame, for I believe in existence that can be brought from death, as I see before me."

The floating death bug flickers and appears on eye level with Takkun. "You are dead, and yet bound. Your existence is cyclic, yet it is pushed to break the cycle."

Takkun stares into the three eyes of the intruder. Yet, he cannot really feel…hostility towards him. The examination, the curiosity. He is reminded of those that sat down and listened to his story.

"I should introduce you to Ebeli."

He pushes his sword closed. "Nokris, correct? Why are you here?"

"I wish to study the concept of Necromancy as it exists in your cosmos. I have no desires for violence, conquest, or greed. Only knowledge, and how my own might grow."

He definitely needs to introduce this one to Ebeli. Takkun nods. "Very well. And are you alone, or are you traveling with companions?"

In the gloomy, green tinted distance, the maw, or eye, or something between a maw and eye shines. "My sole companion travels with me. My companion, ally, friend and god. Xol, Will of Thousands, who has guided me through my journey of enlightenment."

Ghost makes a faint "eeeeeeee" followed by "The fuck do you mean that's a Worm God?"

Kiddo is patting Ghost on the top, trying to calm him down. Takkun looks past Nokris at the Eye-Maw shining in the distance. He stares into it, into the nebulous, corruptive light. Into a gaze older than stars, deeper than the depths. A voice, silent and wordless yet reverberating against the old bones in these crypts.

"How does it eat?" Takkun asks.

Nokris turns to stare at his companion. He stares for long moments. Then turns back to Takkun.

"I do not know."

Takkun shrugs. "You two sit tight down here. We have an event going on top side which you're welcome to join, but if not, I'll have my Mistress and Prince Arvos come down here in a few hours to vet the two of you. My Mistress is an accomplished Necromancer herself but not a great teacher, but can direct you to some good ones."

Nokris bows, hands folded at his waist. "We shall, risen spirit. Your graciousness is appreciated."

Takkun turns and starts walking to the doors. Ghost floats over, panicking at the idea of a son of Oryx and a Worm God squatting in the catacombs, but Takkun assures them both his mistress can kill them if they get out of hand. There is confidence in his voice that reassures them.

The doors close as the Sky Servant, the Risen Spirit, and the Ghost leave. Nokris exhales. He was certain this would end in violence. But this is good.

"Well done."

She flows out of the shadows, smoke and mirrors forming into her. The fullness of her form and the crown upon her brow shimmer in the green, and in the distance the Worm reverberates its voice in recognition.

"Well done indeed," Savathun says, patting him on the head, "You've always been a clever one. Honestly, the title of Heretic is wasted on you. I like Free Thinker instead."

Nokris squirms and floats back, out of the head patting. It is not that he does not appreciate it, but he has a dignity to maintain. "Witch Queen. Your assistance is appreciated, and I do admit this place is indeed what I have been looking for. There is much to learn in this place about the borders between life and death."

Savathun smiles, and it is somewhere between maternal and too many teeth. Hands folded at her waist, she gestures to the Worm in the distance. "Just think. This is a great mythos of possibilities, Nephew. Your brother currently rampages and may gain the gaze of a great King. He's even made a friend."

Nokris grimaces. "Crota was always the more gregarious of us. What is your game here, Witch Queen?" He tilts his head. "You said this was a place of great possibility. I feel it, too. I traveled through death itself and emerged in the tombs of Dead Titans to find this place. You believe this is a possibility for…what?"

Savathun tsks. "You know better than to ask me to reveal my hand, nephew. But if you must know, the keyword is fate. How it is made, how it can change, and what the intersection of mythos allows towards the manipulation of it."

With a flicker of light, it appears next to her.

A Ghost.

But not with the smooth shell of the Sky Servant's.

This one has armor. Its shell is horns and bones. Its skin is rough, and so is its voice.

"Because fact of the matter is, your fate was to die like a little bitch."

 

[Thine Spree]

"Because fact of the matter is, your fate was to die like a little bitch."

Click to shrink...

Oof, right in the jugular, they an't wrong with how easy his fight is even solo in the game and lore wise it was probably just as 'easy' as we had it, but still no need to go right in with the heavy ammo, at least start with some special like everyone else

 

[GreggHL]

Oof, right in the jugular, they an't wrong with how easy his fight is even solo in the game and lore wise it was probably just as 'easy' as we had it, but still no need to go right in with the heavy ammo, at least start with some special like everyone else

Click to shrink...

I mean, Immaru's not wrong. The Son of Oryx dying in a Strike isn't exactly covering himself in glory.