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

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The Electric Thought Floor
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    • She pinwheels- through the raging electric storms which do no more than frizz the ends of her hair and banish the last bits of fatigue from her brain. She expected brass and shadow. She expected the machines and smoke and oil.

    She tumbles through electric blue, and through air thick enough to grab hold of, before her foot catches on the clouds and a hand seizes hers. She sees the floor- not the Floor.

    But a dance floor.

    A dance floor of electricity and thought, surrounded by abstract shapes. Raining champagne, reality rotates into three dimensions and then outwards, and at the stage itself she sees the lightning spiral spinning the disc from which music that has never before existed played.

    "Let's try a new one," the Great Maker declares, "If we have any guests used to three dimensions, this may be a doozy!"

    The spiral of lightning and thought spins the discs. The floor bounces up, swinging her up to standing. The lightning flows through her- not electrocuting her, but moving her with her the music. A transparent figure of luminous glass- her own features reflected, takes her hand.

    "Right foot forward, spin to the left! Look through time and witness your death!"

    She sees. She sees. She tries to forget what she sees and cannot, even as her partner pulls her away.

    "Grab your partner by the hand and reveal to them the ultimate secret-"

    Her mind goes blank. When the tears clear, she is standing behind partner, whatever it was that was whispered has buried itself in her mind, and she is in the middle of a line of electric thoughts, all holding onto each other by the hips.

    "Forward backward take three steps-

    "Shimmy to the right-

    Witness the Void

    ​
    And she sees the opening maw of nothingness that dwells at the bottom of existence. The roaring endless singularity that is the Uncreation. The electric thought cups her cheeks and draws her face away from it.

    "The Void consumes all reality which includes up til now quite a few martinis. But if you're scared, don't worry. Just relax, close your eyes, open your mind

    Breathe deep

    Clap three times

    Her sight prisms into nines. Nine versions of herself, each identical, like funhouse mirrors.

    Somewhere out there there's a world just like yours. A perfect carbon copy with you that is identical. Which lives and breathes exactly just like you.

    She reaches out to each, tears streaming from her eyes, and they reach back. The spiral spirals more. A countless mandala of infinite complexity. A pinwheel of endless identical her, spread throughout the kaleidoscope of infinite variation.

    Then the electric hand catches hers and they they collapse into one. The music halts like a sudden drone and the electric thoughts dim, receeding into white. She cannot see, tears streaming from her eyes, the music still in her ears, in her mind and soul. She can hear it and taste it and feel it on her fingertips, and as it dims into memory she feels the support of a chair against her back and hears the familiar voice of the Great Maker.

    Vision returns and she is in a nice stateroom, although she can see the Floor outside of the window.

    "What happened?" she asks.

    Autochthon- clad in brass, a human-like encounter suit her size, not one of his larger, bulkier suits, stops his pacing and stops his pacing and claps his hands. Spider-like automatons climb in through the windows, scanning her with many eyes and sensors, squirting water down her throat, examining her ears, checking her eyes.

    "My sister, who I will have words with, sent you directly to me. As in, directly to me. To my true self, unshielded from mortal senses."

    She blinks. "True…self? I remember music, I remember seeing a lot of-"

    "I am Primordial. It is hard to explain. Even World Body Autochthonia is not my true self. You are the first mortal, the first being who is not Primordial, to see what I truly am. Even the Gods do not witness what I truly am." He bows his head as the spiders climb off of her and out the window. "I apologize, V'Neef. I did not want to expose you to such-"

    "That was amazing."

    The Great Maker stops, mid sentence. He opens his mouth. Closes it. He tries to ask a question by what she meant.

    He's interrupted by her launching out of the chair, wrapping arms around his neck, and mashing her lips against his, before dragging the Great Maker down like a wounded animal.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • I suppose Song is one of the few things that have been said to unite even the Primordials/Yozi. Still though, the Transcendental Cha Cha Cha…
     
    V'neef is lucky, this is the first time we know so far that the music of the Great Maker's uninhibited self has sounded anything like a Cha Cha.

    (I was not at all expecting a Tom Cardy reference but I am not at all disappointed!)
     
    Meridia
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    • Her brother will be happy. She is glad. There has been a melancholy about him since her return. She has only seen him, not others of their tribe. Like distant echoes of names which she cannot fully remember. She does not know if the melancholy comes from that. If they left, like she did. But her brother will be happy- he has friends. But he will be busy, and so she parts the weft of the Forge to find the Essence that is also hers.

    The Floor becomes the Vats. Inside does she find the great machines her brother crafted to allow the ones who walked with him in her Pale Heart to walk in the mind of another. But the Gardener does not wander to that Vat. Not yet. Even as the two Exalted- the Alchemicals, her brother calls them- panic at the events within the minds, the Gardener stops and turns to the Vat containing the same Essence as hers.

    This one is her. But of a different time. Through them, through others, she been given insight, and in her long sleep within her brother's workshop she has had time to consider these memories of time to come.

    In time, she will find a world. She will be discovered by the inhabitants of its neighbor, filled to the brim with life and hope, and her arrival will transform them forever. She will gift them with her Essence and they shall achieve an age of Wonders and Dreams, and once more IT shall come for her.

    But this time she shall not run.

    This time she shall make a stand.

    She shall make a terrible rebuke.

    She will suffer terribly, and enter a state unto death, ever dreaming. She shall create these extensions of herself, these wonders, and they shall serve a purpose. One she does not know. But they will change everything.

    She understands so little of it. But it is within her power. So it must be possible. The words in the mind of the little extension of herself.

    Devotion. Bravery. Sacrifice. Death.

    Past the other Vats, past the Alchemicals, the Gardener flickers and appears before the Vat of the woman once dead, now reborn by the hand of the Great Maker.

    The probe clatters to the floor.





    That which lives dies. When mortal life was created, it was created with the intent that with time their souls would migrate towards the great Lethe, cleansed of memories to be reborn. Death was not meant to be a continuance, an eternal state.

    A young woman from an idyllic town finds her life ended and then never ended. The black chains that bind her soul are the memories of her life burning in pyreflame. Within the deep layers of her mind, she can hear the voices of her husband, of those around him, but his voice is drowned out by the screams of everyone else she ever loved as the Nephracks sing them to death.

    As the chains hold her down and the black knives carve runes in her back.

    As the flames erupt around her and she relives death again and again and again and again.

    Her name was Meridia. She was a Blacksmith's daughter, apprentrice, then Blacksmith herself. Her husband was a Solar Exalted. But that was long ago. For far longer than she has been alive, she has been dead, and aware the entire time, and that existence has been pain, torture, torment, and misery. An eternal night and flame.

    And into this darkness there comes a moon, illuminating the endless night.

    Into this barren blood-soaked soil there comes a Gardener, and her life shall never be the same.

    The fires die and the knives are gone. The chains wither away and she looks up at the face of the glowing hawk upon the arm of a small girl clothed in white. She reaches out and places her hand upon Meridia's brow. A small smile crosses her face. She says the words she heard from the small, miraculous things she shall make, that shall make the stand against her eternal enemy.

    "In Light there is Mercy."

    She takes the pain, she takes the torment, the torture, the misery. And she moves Meridia beyond its reach.





    A lot of things happen at once.

    Arc lightning surrounds Kiddo's fist and he makes to throw himself directly at the First and Forsaken Lion's helm. Sparklemuffin glows with Light, summoning up the power for the giant battlesuit. Five's Foci come to life and aim at the Deathlord. Star grabs a bloody prayer strip from inside her toga, and Horizons shifts his stance to be more like a spider's. Turncloak drops the end of his staves from his sleeves, his face twisted in incandescent rage.

    But none of them get the chance to strike. The lightning pushes them all back, even the Lion. Lightning which resolves into a dome, and inside the dome there is a woman with strawberry blonde hair, her skin knitted with artifice and circuitry, the salmon colored armor molded to her form and her gauntlets curled into tight fists. Her eyes blaze- with lightning and with anger, and for a moment surprise crosses the gaze of the oldest warlord in existence.

    "How are you even conscious?"

    Her lips part in a snarl. "We have had enough of your bullshit."

    And Meridia cuts the invulnerability field and slams her fist into the Lion's gut. The pistons in her arms squeal and whistle, the armor caves, and the Lion launches across the throneroom and into his obsidian throne. Pulverized stone and pyre smoke erupt from the point of impact. She turns, rolling her shoulders, and smiles.

    "Hey sweetie."

    Turncloak's jaw hangs open. This is her. This is the woman he loves, alive, vibrant, and having just launched his own personal boogieman. He is even more in love with her than before.

    "I have so many questions," he manages.

    "I'll explain in a bit." She turns, extends a hand, and the dome of invulnerability crackles into existence to intercept the terrible greatsword of Varan's Ruin. "I know this is all my mind. I know this is a trap. So here's the deal, Father-in-Law. You're going to let us go."

    The First and Forsaken Lion laughs. It is a deep, satisfied laugh. Starting in the depths of the steel. "You are…unexpected. Tell me, why would I allow this?"

    "Because if you don't, she's going to visit you personally."

    The ceiling, the roof, the entire top of the fortress sheers off like straw in a hurricane, and the gloom of the Thousand is illuminated by a white moon. But not the Silver Chair, not the celestial bodies in the skies of Cecelyne. A white moon, radiating Light that erodes at the fetters of all around it.

    The Traveler hangs low in the sky, and its gaze falls upon the First and Forsaken Lion.

    He laughs. Stepping back, he sheathes his sword. "You. I like you. We'll see each other soon."

    The Lion snaps his fingers, and everything goes white with the sound of cracking glass.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Ah fun. The Traveller here is the prequel to Destiny (and probably the Eliksni/Fallen as well I think) and due to being repaired by Autochton and learning of/interacting with/learning from the Ghosts and the Guardians, she's resolved to go through with what is needed to create them and see the path to the Witness through. Oh well, it's not like the Pattern Spiders need be that concerned about it this time as after all, that's all outside the Loom.

    Though uh, I do worry about what might happen when she realises just why she hadn't encountered others of her tribe. On the other hand, she was willing to aid against a Deathlord.
     
    Pyro Hawk said:
    Ah fun. The Traveller here is the prequel to Destiny (and probably the Eliksni/Fallen as well I think) and due to being repaired by Autochton and learning of/interacting with/learning from the Ghosts and the Guardians, she's resolved to go through with what is needed to create them and see the path to the Witness through. Oh well, it's not like the Pattern Spiders need be that concerned about it this time as after all, that's all outside the Loom.
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    And if Autocthon slips her a tracking device and uses the Guardians we have now as a bit of an extra Foci, he's gonna bring the proverbial rain and roadkill the Black Fleet
     
    Ardenzian said:
    And if Autocthon slips her a tracking device and uses the Guardians we have now as a bit of an extra Foci, he's gonna bring the proverbial rain and roadkill the Black Fleet
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    Autochthon learning about the Witness and what it's been doing and how long it's been chasing his sister is one of those 'Thumbs in eye sockets, squeezing until the wet cracking sound, knowing you've never been so justified in violence in your life' sort of situations.
     
    GreggHL said:
    Autochthon learning about the Witness and what it's been doing and how long it's been chasing his sister is one of those 'Thumbs in eye sockets, squeezing until the wet cracking sound, knowing you've never been so justified in violence in your life' sort of situations.
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    I have this theory that those flower games was her sister's feitich, and the Witness is as much his sister as the Traveler is.
     
    Winged One said:
    I have this theory that those flower games was her sister's feitich, and the Witness is as much his sister as the Traveler is.
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    In this story, the Winnower (Darkness) and the Gardener (Traveler) are two independent halves of the same being (or at least used to be), and the Witness is just an edgy usurper.
     
    Reunion; First to Know
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    • The vats open and the six of you are dumped out in a manner not dissimilar to a sluice gate. Sparklemuffin is up first, rotating their shell to get the Vat gunk off. Star raises both hands and gives two thumbs up.

    "Textbook job, everyone," she moans.

    The others groan their responses, everyone staring up at the blank white of the ceiling, which extends into nothingness. Well, it is in Elsewhere, as is everything in the Primal Forge. Perhaps they are in Elsewhere, but nothing can live in Elsewhere and so are they dead? Most likely not. At very least Kiddo isn't, Ghost would just revive him.

    "So Turncloak," Kiddo finally says, "Did your wife just scare off a Deathlord by personally threatening him with the Traveler?"

    "Yes she did. Does that answer your question?"

    "That answers a lot of questions."

    Sparklemuffin sighs. "No one in the City is ever going to believe this." Almost on cue, a Door opens right by Kiddo and Noedumari walks by, grabbing her boyfriend by the ankles and dragging him through the Door appearing directly in front of her. He waves as he vanishes.

    Sparklemuffin watches, then turns and floats over to Meridia as she sits up. Whirling about her, the Ghost scans her. "Well there's a lot of residual Light around you but you're not a Guardian. So we're still short a Warlock."

    Five is up next. The twelve-foot-tall, blue haired girl helps Meridia to her feet. Gently, as Meridia had never used these legs before, but she finds her footing soon enough. "I feel introductions are in order," she says, "I am Reigo, but you can call me Five. I am your niece. At least, I am your husband's niece."

    "Huh." Meridia stares at her. "He did talk about Harissa, so I guess the height comes from your father's side?"

    "It is a long story. But to summarize, we are both Alchemicals and I am in a further state of development than you."

    Meridia pats her arm. "I'll take your work for it." She steps over the two Sidereals, still lying on the ground and soaking in the goop. She reaches down and with strength well beyond her frame, pulls Turncloak to his feet.

    Before she can say anything, he pulls her into a hug. Face in his hair, eyes closed behind his shades, arms tight around her.

    No one says anything for a very, very long time.





    Aurash says nothing. He can say nothing, for no words really match what he is seeing. It is not a blasphemy, not an abomination. It is just something he never expected to actually see. The Anklok stares at the two people in front of him- one of whom is now an honored guest of the Salient of the Unconquered Sun, and the other is given free access on account of being a sworn ally of the Sun- and blinks. Once, twice. As they explain to him that they are not yet ready to announce that they are in a relationship and thus, need to keep things quiet.

    "And that," V'Neef explains, "Is the long and short of it."

    She squeezes the hand of her paramour.

    In a much more human-sized Encounter Suit, and a much more human appearance, Autochthon nods. His brass, wirey hair is frazzled and his face is one of bliss. As if he has discovered the secrets of all things.

    "Absolutely," he says, hand on his jaw and working it side to side, "This is so…fascinating! The fatigue in the jaw muscles is completely different than any this type of suit has experienced before!"

    "That's because you haven't had practice," V'Neef says with a giggle. She turns his head to the side, leans in, and Aurash watches. It is not voyuerism. The fascination he has with this is not out of any sort of letchery or perversion. It is the sheer odds against this. The impossibility, to the point where if he bet money on it he would be the richest Anklok who was, ever, or will be. It is a sight so impossible any nascent Sidereal would Exalt just by proximity. It is the realization that once this reaches word in Autochthonia, V'Neef's cult will exceed that of the Sun's.

    The Great Maker has made it with a woman, and Aurash, head maid of the Salient of the Unconquered Sun, is the first person to know.

    Aurash balls a fist and punches himself in the snout. When his vision clears, the Door that the Great Maker has exited through vanishes into a pinprick and V'Neef flops down onto a long, ornate couch. Her kimono is not correctly tied, as if she has had to put it back on without assistance, but Aurash dares not ask.

    "You know," she says with a smile, head resting on the armrest, "Originally, I was coming up to Heaven to get away from the current situation in Ardurgia and just thought Autochthon could help me find someplace to hide out, but then one thing lead to another and, well~!"

    She giggles. Then sits up, her hair loose, falling over her shoulders and back. The chopsticks misaligned. Again, Aurash dares not ask.

    "Do I need to sign into a guest book or…?"

    "I will alert the Steward," Aurash states, "We do not use paper in the Salient. Please wait here."

    Aurash turns. Then turns around again. "I swear on the Unconquered Sun I will make no mention of what I have seen between you and the Great Maker."

    V'Neef smiles. "Thank you, Aurash. I know it's a lot."

    Aurash nods, response unstated, and walks out.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Autochthon Goes for Advice
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    • Five anchors weigh down Creation in the weft and motion of the Chaos. Each of them a different element, each of them the certainty of this Element. The scholars of the past, present, and future call them the Elemental Poles, and they are as good a name as any. Those more in tune with the elements themselves know them by different names.

    In the East, far to the East, where East is the only direction there is, there are trees. Go far enough East, and everything becomes trees. The ground, the water, the air. The sky, the deep. All are trees.

    Go further than that and you will reach the source of all trees, even the very concept of trees. Elemental Dragons of Wood make regular piligrimages to this place to remind themselves of what they are. The knotting wood forms great labyrinths of life and poison and intoxication. Leaves thick enough to carry giants sprout from surfaces and angles and the world itself is life green and bountiful.

    And should you arrive at the heart of it, you shall find the Root of All Growth, the Elemental Pole of Wood. A vast chamber of wood, where the walls are sleeping, inert elemental dragons, and a tree that was once an ancient man sits at the center, tended to by a single Raptok nurse. Above which, ever alive, ever alight, the great Kami of Wood and Life, Sextes Jyles, hovers as a guardian Deva.

    It is into the Root that a Door opens and Autochthon, once more in one of his bulbous, armored Encounter Suits, steps out. He waves to the Kami.

    "Hello, Sextes Jyles! It has been some time!"

    The Kami does not speak through his mouth, but through the wood and life around the Great Maker.

    Great Maker, welcome to the Root. Has Heaven learned of the current situation?

    "I do not think so, we have been circumspect and the only witness was sworn to secrecy."

    The Kami tilts his head.

    "I came here for advice on properly courting a woman who is a Terrestrial taking after your elements," Autochthon continues, "What situation?"

    The canopy of the Root opens. Autochthon's hand drops.

    "Oh fuck." The brass shutters blink. "Right, no. No, close it, close it please."

    The canopy closes. He closes his hand and coughs. "Right, you seem to be busy. Forget I was here and I will forget what I saw."

    The Door opens and Autochthon walks through.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Two Weeks Later; Ebeli Does Sorcery
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    • Two weeks pass. At one point, the Emerald Mother was ahead in the Games of Divinity, and the Skydome resembled a particularly moist crime scene.

    The Meander Gate sits on the center-east part of the Celestial City, near a day market that sells overpriced slabs of Orichalcum which are labeled as being of the highest quality, yet on expert examination are actually excellent grade copper. When questioned, the merchants claim ignorance, and that they were given these products by a Solar Exalted who they assure the Lions must have used supernatural influence on them.

    The Meander Gate opens, and out of it V'Neef Ebeli walks through. Waiting for her at the Gate is Ritsuka, Rosette next to her, and Five. Ebeli opens her mouth and before she can say anything, she closes it as she has to process a few things.

    The first is that Rosette is standing next to Ritsuka, as she is currently a young woman, made entirely out of Moonsilver, in moonsilver armor that ends in a very short skirt and a very high thighhighs. Much like the rest of her, her hair is moonsilver, but comes to a short, feathery bob above her neck, and she is adorable. As if she wrestled the moe trophy away from both Five and Abeti at once.

    There's also the fact that Ritsuka is no longer some sort of construct, but a cute redhead who has an air about her like racoon. Someone that intentionally gets into trouble. Lots of trouble. And comes out of it looking good.

    "Wha-"

    Rosette pops and is once more the familiar Ghost, hovering over Ritsuka's shoulder. "I still can't maintain that form for very long, Senpai."

    "Practice makes perfect." Ritsuka gives her companion a thumbs up. Rosette turns to Ebeli.

    "I now have the ability to assume a humanoid form because Luna blessed me and Senpai after she shot her in the face."

    Ebeli nods. She turns to Ritsuka. "So that's also why you're human, right? And not an Exo or whatever it was called?"

    "Nah." Ritsuka shakes her head, smiling. Proudly. "That's because I shot Erembour with a shotgun that has no beginning or end, she tried to turn me into a Creature of Darkness, and there was a one-in-a-million reaction with my Light."

    Ebeli nods, slowly. "I hate everything I'm hearing." She turns to more comforting things, like Five's clay skinned avatar. "Let's just go to the Salient. Please?"

    "You are here to retrieve V'Neef?"

    Ebeli stares at the short girl for long moments. She makes a T-shape with her hands, the Old Realm symbol for back the fuck up. "V'Neef's in the Salient? She vanished weeks ago after I dragged Ghennin back to Ardurgia and before I could yell at her about-"

    Ebeli reaches up, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Okay. And that's probably why she's here to. And no, I'm not here about Mum, as I did not know where Mum was until you just told me, Five."

    They are not in the normal crush of gods that would normally be in a market street in Yu Shan. Mainly because the gods recognize this is the Solar Exalted that summoned up the Green Sun, Autochthon's Granddaughter, and a Chosen of the Gardener, and so the gods are giving them a wide berth.

    "I finished the spell," Ebeli explains, "Grab everyone and let's do the thing."





    There is a room in the Salient that is covered in sun lamps, providing complete illumination and banishing all shadows. It makes sense to do the ritual in there- after a simple warding was laid down to keep anyone from looking in, the shadowless nature of the room would keep any of the peskier spies out.

    Star places the Ring on the single, small table in the middle of the room. Ebeli walks over, her caste mark and Anima flaring into its fully totemic form of a gigantic golden tree, and she cups her hands above the ring.

    Sunlight blasts out from between her palms for five seconds and stops.

    "There. Done."

    Silence hangs in the air. Turncloak balls his hand and coughs. "That wasn't very…Solar Circle-y."

    "I designed the ritual, I get to decide how it's expressed," Ebeli responds, "Aunt Mnemon's original version involved a brass knife, a ritual circle, way too much chanting, and turning blood to acid. And do you know why? Because Aunt Mnemon is a drama queen."

    Star raises a hand. "Question. Did this Fetich Death Malfeas?"

    Ebeli shrugs. Then thinks on it and shakes her head. "I think that Ruvelia was considered dead when she was turned into this ring. But we probably won't know for ten days because of Cecelyne, but this won't have any effects."

    She gives a thumbs up. "Trust me on that. What's next?"

    Turncloak picks up the Ring. "Well, now that it's severed from Malfeas' soul hierarchy, the Maidens are going to reverse the Terminal Sanction and free her. Then, we're going to host a reunion inside Ardurgia."
     
  • Threadmarks
    • End Chapter 19
  • Threadmarks
    • It takes time for the Incarnae to get together to do something. Days pass in the Celestial City- paperwork filed, the Skydome shifts, Turncloak deals with the reality that he has his wife living with him again. But that's another story entirely which involves Meridia taking him shopping to actually spend his Salary and make his house livable.

    Just shy of two weeks later, the Chucklefucks walk into a conference room. For Horizons and Star, it is a familiar conference room. It is the room where sixty of them tried to figure out who to put on the Scarlet Throne and failed miserably. Turncloak adjusts his shades and Five lets her Foci drift up to count the number of Sidereals present as they take their seats- her face getting paler and paler as the numbers of present Sidereals rise.

    "Eighty," she says.

    "That's the entire Fellowship that's currently Exalted," Star says, sitting down, mentally confirming that, yes, the entire Sidereal Host is here, along with their immediate hangers on. The normal cliques, the normal groups- mostly groups of five Sidereals and their immediate allies, or Elders with their trusted students.

    But no mistake-

    This was a clusterfuck in the making.

    Chejop, clap in green trimmed, purple robes, taps his gavel. He sits at the center of a convocation of the oldest current Sidereals. They all have their game faces on. They are all dressed up for this. They all have their utility artifacts on.

    "We have been gathered here today to discuss this matter of great importance and how we shall proceed."

    Horizons coughs about how things have been going a bit too smoothly. Turncloak idly waves at a couple of Sidereals he knows, factually, want him dead. Chejop is still talking.

    "This is an all-hands on deck situation," the Old Man continues, "We will be dispatching to the Demon City for assessment of the current crisis and assessment and retrieval of the Ambassador to Hell."

    He taps the panel in front of him and it reveals a sweeping vista of the Demon City, the endless brass skylines beneath the radiating green sun. "The facts on the ground is that this may be a deception, but we must treat this as a situation of absolute seriousness," Chejop continues, "In the five thousand years since the end of the Primordial War, this has not happened."

    The display continues- a recording, taken from the grounds eye view. Of a great shadow- The Great Shadow of the Ebon Dragon, passing over the Demon City as he normally would. Before his flight becomes erratic and he grips his head, screaming before crashing head first into the lavish palace of the Player of Games. Those educated in demonology wince- there is some sympathy for him, as his palace does seem to have an unlucky streak of getting crushed.

    "Five days ago," Chejop says, "Someone Fetich Deathed the Ebon Dragon."





    Inside his office in the Jade Pleasure Dome, the Sun claps his hands, a genuine happy smile upon his face, and laughs.





    End Chapter 19
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Don't worry, that sound you just heard was the Yozi going 'Whatever you want, we'll take the deal. Give us our Souls back and get us out of here!'
     
    Oh I guess that ring wasn't Ruvelia was it. I guess we might get to know who the Fetich soul of the Ebon Dragon is in this campaign…and maybe throw Solars at the Ebon Dragon to promote a favourable 3cd ??
     
    To be fair, one of the guesses in the SB thread was the Perfect Paragon, the shotgun that has a looped trajectory in space and time that has no beginning or end being used to kill the actual creator of the concept of Fate.

    We're dealing with paracausal bullshit and the Ebon Dragon invented Fate explicitly to doom people.

    There's a plethora of things that could have killed him.
     
    GreggHL said:
    "Five days ago," Chejop says, "Someone Fetich Deathed the Ebon Dragon."
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    Optimistically, whatever he becomes might not end up being a total piece of shit?

    Realistically, 78 Sidereals are about to fuck everything up and I'm not sure it's possible to influence the transformation after it's already begun.
     
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