The Shard currently entwined with Xurizu's soul has always been a snake, although the species has varied from incarnation to incarnation, as has the caste -- as befits one of Luna's blessed.  His longest lived incarnation was not his first, that Exalt had died (or at least, ceased to be) in the latter stages of the war, when She Who Lives In Her Name broke her Spheres over Creation.

Surrounded by those supposedly his peers but with massively more experience, the young Twice-Coiled Arexus had done the only thing he knew how to do.  He excelled, particularly in the newly emerging field of Sorcery.  Whilst he would never reach the heights of power displayed by the Golden Ones, for that power was ever denied to him by virtue of his Exaltation, there were few who could match his skill in shaping the two lower circles, his spells always woven to perfection, every strand of essence placed just so.

It was this precision and perfection which had drawn his mate, the great crafter of beauteous wonders, Thalia, close to him and he to her.  As a result, he was often clad in the fruits of her labours, which granted him a striking appearance, even in those days of wonders.  His armour and his robes--for they were one and the same--were woven of strands of the night itself, a few bare strands of Moonsilver running through them looking like stars as they emerged from the depths of the weave in a few places.  On his head, he wore another of Thalia's creations, a circlet made of purest water from the utmost West, solidified and worked as gold or silver might have been to form the body, dyes made of sapphires and diamonds used to colour the liquid.  Combined with his long black hair, and slightly blue tinted Northern skin, he looked striking on her arm, or alone.

Towards the end of the First Age, it his skill at weaving sorcery which enabled him to aid in the forging of the Salinan Working, a task which would repay his reincarnations, or those which studied the sorcerous arts at least, down the ages.

Truth be told--throughout the Clockwork General's many incarnations--they had attained a considerable series of rivals--seemingly tied by Fate to continually incarnate at the same time--begin their battle of wits once again--only to come to an end at the same time once again--while the Clockwork General espoused the prowess of powerfully ordered machinery, capable of outputting great prowess--his two rivals always had different approaches--and their greatest wonders always arrived when that series of incarnations finally collaberated on one project or another...

One of these, the No Moon who's most famous incarnation, Maia Wise-Eye, was a brilliant sorcerer-engineer.  Wherin the Clockwork General favored the purity of mechanic mastery, Maia was always one to blend magic along with it.  Her devices always seemed to bear a mystical standpoint--making little sense when reverse-engineered, but seemingly functioning based on prayer and hope alone.  The Mate of the Clockwork General--to this date, Danae isn't quite sure if she's incarnated somewhere around in Five Coils--but wouldn't mind meeting her at some point or another to compare notes...

The other, the Cursed Sapphire--was a Chosen of Serenity--a careful collaborator with incredible talent when it came to sheer delicate operation--where Maia would design an elegant device, sacrificing the size and bulk popular throughout artifice in favor of sleek and organic appearances, Sapphire would produce wonders which--on the outset, appeared much like the original...  But they worked better--more efficiently.  While there was something to be said about his inclination towards unoriginal thought--there was no contesting that Sapphire's designs just 'Worked Better' then anyone else's...  Sadly, the 'Cursed' part of the Shard's title comes from it's turnover rate--between the Usurpation and the release of the Solars--it was said that Sapphire would never last out a year--always remaining despondent over something or other--and dying of the most unusual causes.  To the point where the Sidereals simply considered any such Exaltations to be a write-off...

Nonetheless, if all three are present within Five Coils--a possiblity for a new golden age of artifice is no longer simply a pipe-dream--and their talents may yet extend across the Surface once more.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:02, Sat 10 Jan 2009.

The Akashic Records. The terror that awaits those Twilights who are focused in knowledge. It is, in many ways, the 'detritus' of the Solar Exalted. Those whose skill lies, not in the creation of things, in the finding of secrets, in the treating of wounds, or the arcane arts, are slated for processing as Akaschic Records. The methods used are best described as torturous, some saying they had been rewards from the Yozis for some service of a demon summoner, and the secrets had fallen into the Dragon-Blooded's hands. They are not often used, because the minds of most mortals would be utterly destroyed, rendering them utterly useless, but Exalts, new Exalts, still uncertain in their power, are in the narrow gap where they can survive, but not intact. The process wipes their personalities clean, leaving them little more than living dolls, with at most a faint ghost of their old personality, like a shadow left on a wall.

The amount of information that is required for Five Coils' continued operation is phenomenal. The intelligences, like the Gatekeepers, are useful for this purpose, but they have their limits, and the Dragon-Blooded don't entirely trust them, for good reason. The Akashic Records, then, are the solution. Their minds, as powerful, perhaps more so, than any intelligence, their ability to process information, when unhindered by one of those messy personalities, unmatched. The process is rare, as even among the Dragon-Blooded, it is considered disturbing, but it still happens frequently enough.

Until approximately 30 minutes ago, there has never been an escape attempt by an Akashic Record.

The Breaking of Oak Hurst

During the war against the Fair Folk, Dena's previous incarnation Flying Nettle established a fortress on the edge of creation known as Oak Hurst.  Built into a desmene in a natural grove of giant oak trees near the pole of wood, Oak Hurst had a stable population of humans who had Flying Nettle as their guardian, attracted to her superhuman beauty and message of empowerment.

Counter to the normal strategy of using their own awe-inspiring fighting prowess to destroy fair folk invaders, Flying Nettle remained inside the desmene inventing new and wonderful devices.  Instead, using a special knack, she used her own blood to give her most powerful forms to human followers and armed them with magitek weaponry.  Mundame-material warstriders fought alongside humans transformed into tyrant lizards while strix and giant wasps scouted and guarded the skies and magitek infantry protected the earth, fueled by the endless power of the desmene itself and golems supplied brute power to human generals.  As the Fair Folk advanced on creation and it's borders collapsed inward, Oak Hurst remained an outpost, a hell world where the Fair Folk died by the thousands and the borders were secured from alteration by powerful devices.  While rumors of Tyrannosaurs in F-14s began in this area, in reality they were usually separate although fighting together.

Inevitably things began to slowly sicken and worsen.  Obsessed with studies and finding ways of inflicting ever-more damage to the fair folk, Flying Nettle failed to observe the effects her blood was having on the townsfolk.  Repeated and continuous use of wasp-lunar blood began to turn them servile and obedient, gradually turning the people into dronelike workers for the hive.  Where Flying Nettle had sought to empower the people and give them free choice in their defense of their home, she instead removed that free will and enslaved them without thought.

Eventually doom came from an unexpected source.  As creation continued to wither under the onslaught, Dena, deep in her tree-hive, closed in on creating a weapon so powerful it would crush the fair folk entirely and protect the entirety of creation, a similar device to that the Scarlet Empress was seeking at that very moment.  But to make it required vast quantities of all five magical materials, and Flying Nettle had no soulsteel left.  While she began work on a way to construct her needed materials from the wyld nearby, her loyal drones heard her complaints and unhesitatingly, the entire population committed suicide for their queen, their ghosts closing in on her and begging to be turned to soulsteel.  With the people manning the weaponry gone, the fair folk flooded in and killed her as well, though the automated defenses inflicted horrific damages and Flying Nettle herself, in a last desperate charge, attacked in a custom warstrider and trampled them like chaff until she was buried beneath their numbers.

Today Oak Hurst has become a shadowland, filled with hungry ghosts who wish only for the return of their queen, who will make them a part of one of her wonderful weapons but who reject all other comers, and a place bristling with a thousand and one lethal deathtraps from automated weaponry and lethal automatons.  As for Flying Nettle, the event seems to be deeply burned into the Exaltation's psyche, and ever after her reincarnations have been overly cautious, worried about unintended consequences and prone to overthinking and overplanning any action lest it cause something unexpected and horrible to happen.

The Abyssals of Five Coils are, at best, a touchy subject. Most of the Dragon-Blooded who run Five Coils would most prefer simply locking their essence away for good, but for one reason or another, this has never ended well. To this end, within the most secure vault in the entirety of the massive complex, there are six carefully hoarded Monstrances of Celestial Portion. Each of these required a truly heroic effort to retrieve, and they are kept a secret from all but the very highest echelons of the Dragon-Blooded. Each one contains a single Day or Dusk-Caste Abyssal Essence, which is given to a chosen member of a Dragon-Blooded family, raised from birth for fanatical service, who has not exalted. They are brought before the monstrance, their throats slit, and when the Abyssal Essence enters them, they are put to work immediately. There is one for each section of Five Coils. They are the assassins. When nothing else would be sufficient to stop a  threat, then they are the ones who are sent into the fray. They are ritually executed at the age of thirty-five, and replaced with the next, so as to ensure that they never become strong enough to threaten the Five Coils. They know, quite well, that they are playing with fire.

This is why, each day, they look at the still-empty monstrance for the Dark Guardian of Water, and feel greater worry if the Day-Caste has escaped, or worse, stays within the Five Coils, and even now is waiting for his chance.

Jade Coin of Benevolence
Artifact *

These jade discs are only usable by Terrestrial Exalted, and were originally created to allow Dragonblooded Surgeons to operate on patients without risking harm to the patient from the surgeon's anima banner.  Other Terrestrials found further uses for them, particularly mounted warriors and those with familiars.  Each disc is made of jade of an appropriate color, and usually inscribed with an appropriate elemental design.  Many are pierced to be hung on a chain or thong.

When a Dragonblooded commits 1 mote to the coin and gives it to another, that person is immune to that particular Dragonblooded's anima banner.  The effect lasts until the Dragonblooded ceases to commit essence to maintain the effect.

And here's my interpretation of the mining encampment buildings.  I'm not entirely satisfied with this image but overall I think it came out well.  The only light in it really is from the fires.
I thought about adding some people, but given what that will do to the render time inhabitants will have to wait until I have a couple of days free where I won't need to use my computer so it has some thinking time to crunch that many polys.

Finally got the processing time free to model Dena's current assortment of forms.

If anybody wants a portrait send me a message and I'll see what I can come up with.

The Narsik are considered to be Five Coils' worst Secret Police--and simultaniously one of the most often utilized.  Either this is a cunning gambit to let rebels think that this is the best that Five Coils can offer, before sending in 'Real' professionals, or if it's simply that their sheer tenacity almost always 'Eventually' brings them victory.

A well balanced Brotherhood, consisting of a representative of each Aspect, the Narsik are noted for considerable combat ability, a less-then-appropriate regard for their superiors and the general belief system of Five Coils, and an almost glaring lack of subtlety.  It's these reasons that often get them sent into situations that are both highly dangerous, and generally away from the public eye.

((OOC: My attempt at a 'Quirky Miniboss Squad', I'll provide details for the members in future posts :D))
This message was last edited by the player at 21:37, Sat 21 Feb 2009.

The Eternal Rebel.

If Free is the patient face of Exalted Rebellion in Five Coils, then the Eternal Rebel is the impatient face. His exaltations never last long, rebelling in all that they do, but they make up for their lack of age with an almost terrifying level of will and Essence. The Exaltation of the Eternal Rebel is generally looked upon as something of a natural disaster by the authorities of Five Coils, something brief, but with damaging consequences.

There is a common thread to the Exaltations that the Rebel takes, almost always being those who are inclined already to rebellion- And in particular, those with an unusual, but not terribly rare, genetic tendency which leaves their family lines with blue hair.

Nobody is entirely sure if it actually is a single Exalted Essence, or just a tendency towards rebellion, a sort of mental disease that affects certain people in that lineage that only emerges when they Exalt. The tales are most often told among members of the Peace Officers, and unnecessary force being used against those with the Rebel's Mark, as the hair color is called, is considered a fact of life. Nobody wants to end their lives on the Rebel's fists.

((OOC:It was not until I finished typing this up that I realized that in fact Third also has blue hair. Is Third the Rebel? Or is it merely a coincidence? Read the book.))
((OOC: PS. There is no book.))

The Seven Swords

The Seven Swords are a group whom--as with many in Five Coils, is shrouded in myth and legend.  Spoken of in hushed words by the populace--these seven warriors of impeccable skill, each said to have mastered a single technique which far surpasses even the greatest arts of the Dragon Blooded.  Rare is it that more then a single representative of their number comes to the forefront--but it is said that the Seven Swords approve of rebellion against the Dragon Blooded overlords--and one will often crop up to assist the more successful ones.

It is said that the Seven Swords have existed since the inception of Five Coils--as it's guardians and enforcers.  Of course, the going implication is that each member takes an apprentice when they feel themselves slowing down or whatnot, but it's just much more mystical and legendary to believe they've 'Always Been Around', right?

The one currently freshest in memory is known only as Kazuki--a user of the Two Handed Long Sword, renknowned for his incredible striking speed, and his legendary technique--so long as his balance is maintained, it is said he can turn any strike into a successful blow.

If an Exaltation has ever needed something in common with each of its successive incarnations, then that of Dreams-of-Light has always Chosen a woman who understands the connections between physicality and the sacred.

The first was Noon Joy, a temple prostitute who serviced the religious gladiators of Rathess (including, it is claimed, Queen Merela) until the Unconquered Sun made her one of the first Zeniths. She seduced the fetich soul of a major Yozi (possibly Ligier's previous incarnation) and destroyed it but died in the doing so.

The second, and the one to survive the Primordial War and the Ochre Fountain Era was a healer named Touch of Grace. She died in the Dissolution Invasion but virtually invented the arts of acupuncture and acupressure, both of which her incarnations have remembered some portion.

The third, who lived until the end of the Time of Cascading Years, was Tantra of the Four Virtues. Balanced between the extremes of the sensuous Noon Joy and the celibate Touch of Grace, she advocated moderation in all things, decried magitech which enhanced the physical form, and tried to promulgate a set of manners for the Exalted. She perished in the Long Silence but some of her writings inspired the famous doyenne Renewing Ardour in the Second Deliberative Era.

The fourth through to seventh were short-lived and seemed to be more interested in sex than faith. Their names are forgotten.

Of the First Age, the last was a young girl, little more than a child, named Ta Yao Li, who practiced religious athletics. She died five years after Exaltation during the beginning stages of the Usurpation when her Chosen of Journeys sifu gently poisoned her.

OOC: The first prayer is totally ripped off from the Hymn to the Sun in the Egyptian Book of the Dead.

Hymn to the Sun, Sol Invictus style:

Composed in the Primordial War as the first prayer of the Zenith Ur-Dai-Ken, the Hymn to the Sun was broken up into verses and repeated at the appropriate time of day. Some heretics suggested that the Hymn was composed collaboratively by Ur-Dai-Ken, the first Supreme Hierophant of the Deliberative, and his sometime lover Noon Joy. As the Great Curse progressed, repeating this heresy was punishable by death.

Homage to thee, O Sol, at thy tremendous rising!
Thou risest! Thou shinest! the heavens are rolled aside!
Thou art the King of Gods, thou art the All-comprising,
From thee we come, in thee are deified.

Thy priests go forth at dawn; they wash their hearts with laughter;
Divine winds move in music across thy golden strings.
At Sunset they embrace thee, as every cloudy rafter
Flames with reflected color from thy wings.

Thou sailest over the zenith, and thy heart rejoices;
Thy Morning Boat and Evening Boat with fair winds meet together;
Before thy face the bright garda exalts with her fateful Feather,
And at thy name the halls of Heaven ring with voices.

O Thou Perfect! Thou Eternal! Thou Only One!
Great Hawk that fliest with the flying Sun!
Between the Turquoise Sycamores that risest, young for ever,
Thine image flashing on the bright celestial river.

Thy rays are on all faces; Thou art inscrutable.
Age after age thy life renews its eager prime.
Time whirls its dust beneath thee; thou art immutable,
Maker of Time, thyself beyond all Time.

Thou passest through the portals that close behind the night,
Gladdening the souls of them that lay in sorrow.
The True of Word, the Quiet Heart, arise to drink thy light;
Thou art To-day and Yesterday; Thou art To-morrow!

Homage to thee, O Sol, who wakest life from slumber!
Thou risest! Thou shinest! Thou radiant face appears!
Millions of years have passed, --we cannot count their number,--
Millions of years shall come. Thou art above the years!

---

The Great Litany of the Unconquered Sun:

In the First Age, it was theorised that the Unconquered Sun had three hundred names and that each Solar reflected an aspect of the Lord of Heaven and Earth. Commissioned by Queen Merela of the Zenith Touch of Grace in the year following the victory of the Exalted Host over the Primordials, this prayer was quickly copied into Lunar and Sidereal specific versions. It is even said that the Dragon-Blooded had their own Great Litanies for the enigmatic and distant Elemental Dragons.

It is a grueling prayer which must begin at dawn and finish by the next sunrise as the priest cannot eat, drink or sleep during this time, and must sit in a lotus position. But if one can finish it, the reward is a moment of direct attention from the Unconquered Sun himself.

System:
Taking roughly twenty-five hours to complete (one for each Caste of Solar), the praying person must make a Stamina + Resistance roll beginning at +1 difficulty and increasing to +5 over the course of the prayer. Every five minutes the priest must also meditate on an aspect of the Unconquered Sun (twelve per hour) and roll Charisma + Performance at +7 Difficulty. Every two successes over the difficulty of the Sta + Res roll adds one automatic success to the prayer roll.

Most significantly, Charms cannot be used for the Great Litany.

First Age Past Life
In the First Age, the Exaltation which would be Talia's belonged to a woman known as Crown of Evening Stars.  Crown of Evening Stars was a talented crafter and a truly gentle soul.  In the first days of the war, she was commisioned to create an item of great power.  The exact nature of his item is lost to history, locked away even from the memories of the Exaltation.  All that is known is that the item was used against the enemies of the Exalted, and when Crown of Evening Stars saw the destruction she had wrought she wept, and swore that she would never again create any item which would be used to take life.
From then on, Crown of Evening Stars create only objects of beauty, protection and healing.  She crafted heathstone amulets, rings of power, and wonderful devices the like of which had never been seen.
The life of this lover of peace and beauty ended when enemies invaded her home.  Crown of Evening Stars would not lift a hand against another even to save her own life, praying even as she died that her killers would find peace.

Throwback
During the darkest days of the War of Usurpation, the Exaltation belonged to Mei Xing, a powerful sorceress.  Mei Xing lusted for arcane power.  She was willing to pay any price, to take any risk, to make any sacrifice to gain what she craved.  She delved dark magic: necromancy and infernalism.  She justified her actions to herself by claiming that she sought power only to defeat the Dragon-Blooded, but in truth she desired power as its own end.  She sought to become truly immortal and as powerful as the Gods.  As one might expect, her hubris led to her demise.  She summoned a demon which proved to be to powerful for her to contain.  For many years, the gruesome details of her death were used as warning to apprentice sorcerers of the dangers of dark magic.
Under Mei Xing's control, Talia desperately seeks out occult lore and magic secrets.  If the opportunity presents itself she will lie, steal, kill or betray in order to acheive her goals.
Due to the influence of Mei Xing's memories, Talia refuses to learn sorcery.  She fears that such power can lead too easily to corruption.

It started before I was born, of that much I am sure.  There are things I do not remember, things that such an infant mind will not remember, but my first memories are of training.  I remember feeling the burn in my arms as I raised myself from the ground, doing so many push-ups that I had lost count.  At that point, I don't think I could count.  I only did them till my muscles seized up, or they told me to stop.

I had a name then, but I don't remember what it was.  They hardly used it, I do remember that.  My name wasn't so important, they told me, when compared to my purpose.  I was a spoiled egg, one of many who were destined to never hatch, and this was my one chance to regain honor.  To bring something lasting to my house.  To not die an insignificant drain on my family.

If they ever saw me outside of my quarters, I was punished.  If they saw me while I was eating, I was punished.  If I was seen relieving myself of the filth of the body, I was punished.  So I became as a shadow, and no longer did they see me.  That is what they wanted, of course--the best training is experience, and they wanted me to become silent.  And after I could evaporate with the wind, they took their little shadow and made him into a killer.

Oh, there was so much more than simple swordplay.  Their ceaseless semantics about the Anathema, their obsessions with the wretched, their love for rules and rank, for culture and purpose--how I hated them.  I nodded my head, I smiled on command, and I did what they bade, but I hated them all.  And I felt shame.  Shame that these were my people, my blood.  Shame that my family would have such little faith in my hatching that they would give me to these monsters, who would treat me as nothing more than a vessel, a token to be carved unto and disposed of.  Oh, they told me this and more, thinking I understood the bigger picture, the divine purpose...that I embraced the will of the dragons, and that I would live as they sought me to live--to deal the deaths that they were too weak to stomach, or too scared to face.

So I followed them.  I made them believe my faith was true, that my will was no longer mine own, but theirs for the taking.  And my body was so much like clay, they molded me into a killing machine of unknown beauty, of skill unquestionable, and terror unblinking...and for that, perhaps, I should be thankful.  Those who trained me, who made me lick their boots as I tormented my body at their bidding, who lashed me at the post to toughen my body, those who denied me nourishment to strengthen my virtue--they shall be granted my gift quickly, and sent into the sweet oblivion with but a whisper of agony on their lips.  But the others...those who tormented my mind, who tried to strip me of the only thing I ever truly had to myself, my mind...to those Dragon-Blooded, to those kinsmen, I will not be so kind.

Not so kind at all.

When the blessed day finally arrived, that my torment might end and my salvation begin, I was ready.  By some twisted sense of pity, or perhaps remorse, they offered the last week of my mortality as a gift.  I was given the finest clothes, the most delicious of dishes, and their most beautiful women to have as I pleased.  The weapon had been forged and found sharp indeed, they must have thought, so what harm was there in letting the blade shine a few moments before plunged into the hearts of their enemies?

I refused them all, every last token of their offering.  They saw it as humility, and a sign of inner strength.  Fools!  I did not want their pity, or their apologies.  The food they left in my chambers was unto like ash in my mouth, tossed aside like the foil filth that it was.  Their clothing was ripped and torn, used as so much kindling for the rats nests so carefully hidden away.  But their women...I let them stay.  They did not touch me, nor I them, but I allowed them to see me.  To see the vessel their 'brave' men had brought fourth, to see the shattered soul that they had forged, and the haunted death that I so craved.  They left in tears, every last one, and they are the only ones who remember me...even before the Dark Exaltation took me into its sweet embrace, and the Neverborn crooned my souless husk to sleep, their dreams I will haunt forever.

The week was supposed to be of joy and celebration, of wanton abandon, but instead I meditated, and I fasted.  They saw it as an attempt to center myself for the upcoming task, to reaffirm my soul for the horrible trials ahead, so that I would serve the Five Dragons as only -I- could.  And I thought of the Five Dragons, of that make no mistake.  I brooded over their grip over my destiny, and I planned the day that I would face them, and show them the dark gifts their 'blessed' people were so just in giving me.

Pasiap would be the first to die, for without his stability or guidance, the rest would fall into chaos.  Next would be Hesiesh, who would no doubt burn with passionate revenge, and would want revenge--he would be angry, and anger would make him stupid.  He would fall quickly.  The rest would fall quickly after that, what with their greatest Champion and Strategist fallen.  And if they were lucky, these dragons, perhaps the last to fall, Daana'd, perhaps she would beg for their souls, perhaps she would convince me not to defile their very essence, to drink them up as I saw fit, or perhaps have them become my own Necrotech battle fleet--perhaps she would, and even so, I would delight in hearing her tortured cries escape through my clenched fingers as I strangled her scaly throat.

These are the things I thought about...prayed about, to whatever dark gods awaited me.  Then finally the day came.  The day that they brought me to their Monstrance of Celestial Portions.  The demented casket was warped and wicked, and looked to have been built by crazed blind men with visions of what horrors lied beneath their lids.  From behind they slit my throat, their shame too great to allow me to see it coming, and quickly shoved me into the dark Sarcophagi.  As my lifes blood seeped down my throat, I gave no dying breath or pained gurgles...I simply waited.  I envisioned my captors watching silently, waiting for my cries of fear, or my shouts of injustice, hampered by my severed vocal chords, but they heard nothing.

I waited, and when that sweet glimpse of oblivion finally crossed my blood-streaked vision, I heard the whispered of the Neverborn.  I was told they would be horrible, these voices, demented and alien, like vials of corruptions steeped into my very soul.  Their whispers were sweet and delicious, and their promises palatable and fine.

And all they could hear, outside that box of persecuted promises, was my slow, and triumphant laughter.

Things were different in the First Age.  After the birth of the Neverborn, things were good.  The Solar Exalted brought into fruition a time of great peace and prosperity--it was only after the Great Curse finally took hold, and the horrors that that absolute power produced did the Celestial Exalted considered betraying the Law Bringers.

Among their numbers was an Exalt called Twin Blades of the Perfect Edge.  Twin Blades was an Exalt of incredible cunning and skill, and very few Exalts, even those of the Dawn Aspect could stand up to him in combat.  So fast were his blades, so cunning his acrobatics, so sure his strikes that disputes with the Exalt were best left to debate and discussion--and such was his design.  War with Twin Blades was paramount to suicide, and so war and violence in his lands were unheard of, for fear of retribution from the God-King.

Powerful as he was, Twin Blades of the Perfect Edge was not without kindness, and was a good ruler of his kingdom.  But as time grew, he became more and more demanding of his subjects.  He was afraid that the imposed peace of his kingdom would falter if the other, less noble Exalted ever turned their greedy eyes toward the wealth and prosperity that he had crafted.  So, he thought, it would be a good idea to train not just an army, but an entire militia, and so sought to make every man, woman, and child in his kingdom a brave and dedicated warrior.  This, of course, made Twin Blades very unpopular, and though he still loved his people fiercely, and was doing only what he thought was good and right for them (in his Cursed manner), until he was turned upon by his own Army, and slain by his most trusted Dragon-Blood generals.

No one remembers much of the Most Diligent Bridger of Concepts, the first of Veldygar's incarnations. A discreet hero by Solar standards, he could not claim a Primordial as his personal trophy, like Queen Merela did; he nonetheless ensured that his Circle could operate at the greatest efficiency, and managed to sow discord between the Second and Third Circle Souls of one of the gods' enemies, making its ultimate demise possible.

He perished during the Aftershock War, one of the earliest casualties of the rogue Primordial that came back to assault the Solar Deliberative more than a millenia after the final defeat of its brethren.

His next incarnation, Sharia of the Peak of Promises, had a likewise unremarkable first five centuries - acting as embassador to the Fair Folk (having drawn her Second Breath after uncovering a dastardly raksha plot to ravish the population of her home city in her city, far to the West of Okeanos), managing her small territory alongside her older Lunar mate, until the Time of Cascading Years.

Forever changed by the experience, she took an interest in motic science, and its application to the manipulation of reality. She used her utmost abilities to endear herself to the Chosen of the Maiden, and spent time in Yu-Shan to learn as many of the reality-warping Sidereal martial arts as she could.

Progressively eaten by the hubris of the Great Curse, she devised a plan: if she could reinitiate the Cascading Years phenomenon, and overwrite the base reality on the Loom of Fate, she could reach omnipotence, vanquishing the shaping defenses of her peers and enabling her to take Queen Merela's place as the ruler of the Chosen... And master of Creation and Yu-Shan alike. Who better than her could decide what would be good for Creation, if not the fittest of the god-kings of Creation?

Fortunately, her plans never came to fruition despite millennia of preparation (her own lack of natural affinity for several fields of research pertaining to her project, like magitech, somewhat slowed down her progress, as did regular Sidereal inquiry), for the Usurpation came. Knowing her as one of the few Solars who had ripped off Sidereal secrets, she was targeted by one of the most excessive and brutal application of force the Chosen of the Maiden could muster. Her Shard reached Lytek's cabinet already scoured of every trace of what had been Sharia of the Peak of Promises.

"See you later mom," Veldygar kissed his mother on the cheek, and shouldering his bag, caught up with his father.

"How are you feeling today, son?" Moram Arhandor asked. "I trust master Vigon is teaching you a great deal."

And indeed he was. Veldygar was absorbing knowledge like a sponge. His father was sure that he would one day accede to the highest position available to a mortal thaumaturge...

Today was the first day he would be introduced to the wonders usually created by the Dragon-Blooded (or some Anathema slaves). He would likely become a bio-thaumaturge and an alchemist later in his life, but his interest was piqued by the mechanical wonders of jade he had seen his betters use. He was nonetheless chagrined, because the most fascinating Arts he had heard from, those who dealt with summoning and parlaying with spiritual beings, were usually barred from mere mortals, exclusively reserved to-Dragon Blooded.

On the way to the factory-cathedral, he welcomed the sight of Vaminder and Seela holding hands. Two months ago, the two lovebirds had been growing desperate, their families at odds because of a two-generations long feud, dating back to Vaminder's grandfather being promoted before Seela's despite the latter's seniority. Veldygar hadn't resisted to the idea of meddling and righting their wrongs, and after getting to know the various members of the family, he had seen which buttons to push to unlock the situation and, even if the grudge, compounded as it had been by decades of petty struggles, was a long way from being given up, he had managed to reunite the two lovers.

Somehow, he seemed to find a strange sense of rightness to this. He had since long had a good grasp of the social structures in the Wood District, and he was beginning to understand how to use them. His father told him that it would serve him right when he would be competing for a promotion later, but deep inside Veldygar wondered if he could not use it for some greater purpose. Surely, his horizons could not be limited to a thaumaturgy greenhouse and the biggest desk in the office?

"I'll go home by myself this evening dad," he bid his father a good day, and entered the thaumaturgical workshops. He greeted the stern master Vigon, the thaumaturgy instructor who supervised a handful of promising pupils.

He nearly ran to his booth, and grinned madly when master Vigon handed him a small bucket of rune-marked cogs, pinions, pipes and rods, and other esoteric components the purpose of which he did not have the faintest idea of.

"For the next following days," master Vigon told them, "you will be trying to figure out the correct symbological associations on the various parts I gave you, and try to assemble them into coherent Essence-guiding patters. You know enough geomancy basics and Old Realm glyphs to figure it out by yourself. Go ahead."

Veldygar was not as underwhelmed as his fellow apprentices by the task at hand. Playing around with the various symbols, he managed to find an appropriate pattern, shaped a bit like an angle bracket. Six elements in thirty seconds flat, that's a good start!

He touched the design, trying to 'feel' the Essence flow around the glyphs. He received a small jolt, and several of the parts inside and around the design re-assembled themselves into another vaguely humanoid pattern. Alerted by the small cry he gave out, master Vigon approached his booth. "Oh, clever of you," he commented upon seeing the new arrangement, "but that's no reason to disturb your fellow apprentices. Keep up the good work. Let's see how much you grasp this first day."

Try as he might, though, he did not manage to do better than the spontaneous pattern this day. He regained his home thinking of what it might mean.

Over the two following days, Veldygar received several more similar jolts. Each time the designs became more and more intricate. Master Vigon commended his ability to conceptualize Essence flows, much to the jealousy of his fellow apprentices, so usually avaricious of praise was their teacher. Yet deep inside Veldygar felt he did not actually understand how these patterns came to be, no matter how he let others think otherwise.

On the third and last day of the exercise, the patterns had assembled into a three-dimensional humanoid shape. Master Vigon commented that with Veldygar's intuitive understanding of the Essence flows in a humanoid shape he could have worked in the assembly or maintenance of warstriders or other humanoid automata.

"Vigon-sensei," Veldygar asked, "just how old can a person get before they cannot become a Dragon-Blooded?"

"A strange question," Vigon commented. "I know of no person who has Exalted past twenty, so I'm afraid you are a little late, if that's what you had in mind."

Veldygar had turned twenty a month ago.

Still harboring a little hope that he would be a statistical outlier - how else could he explain those spontaneous patterns appearing when he tried feeling Essence? - the apprentice returned to his work. Well, too bad, I'll just finish this apprenticeship, get a job supervising the Wood District's greenhouses or alchemical vats, marry, have children, and die at the ripe old age of 'as long as the Dragons mercifully grant me', he thought, a bit dispirited.

That's when he heard faint whispers coming from the doll-like assembly. At first he could not make out the words, but then it sounded much like the syntax of Old Realm - only vastly more subtle and musical, compared to the crude dialect they had studied in order to practice the mysteries.

Then understanding dawned on him, and he made out the meaning of the words: "Prince of Creation, thou hast forgotten much, but fear naught, thine faithful servant shall hasten thy return to glory."

Flashes of memories coursed through his mind, all pertaining to titanic struggles and grand heroics that he felt belonged to an Age long gone, but the most marking sight was the open sky, through which he soared on a great clockwork bird of gold.

"What was that," he said aloud, and heard a commotion coming from the nearby booths. His fellow apprentices recoiled in fear.

"What's happening? Did you hear what that doll was... telling?" he said incredulously, the doll having vanished from his workbench.

Vigon watched him, aghast. On a reflective metal sheet hanging from the wall, he saw his own image, a golden disc within a circle burning on his brow. A...na...thema? Me?

Vigon stepped towards him, his limbs going through the motion of practised katas. "I am sorry," he told him with sincere regrets in his voice, "that is for the greater good."

"Vigon-sensei, wait..." Veldygar said feebly. Only sheer instinct saved him, enabling him to leap aside as the enlightened mortal threw an Essence-sheathed foot at him, creating a crater in a nearby wall.

Now fully understanding his predicament, Veldygar ran out of the workshop, and out of the factory, as the alarm bell rang in the Wood District.

He recovered his breath in a nearby alley, surprised to find himself physically fitter than he had felt since was born. He let the glowing mark on his brow die down as he was laying low, the patrols and Dragon-Blooded hunting teams drawing closer.

Panicked, he left his shelter for the streets of the wood district, and willed himself not to be found, and, to his shock, a patrol of guards, who surely knew of his description, failed to notice him as they brushed past him.

Relieved by this apparent ability to make others ignore his presence, he tried to escape this level, but that was without counting on the Dragon-Blooded's supernatural tracking abilities.

As he neared the central shaft, he found himself surrounded by armed and armored Dragon-Blooded.

"Surrender, Anathema," a warrior in red jade armor told him. "You will not be hurt if you comply."

Clenching his teeth, Veldygar extended his hand, a golden blade materializing in his grip. "And spent the rest of my life a slave?" he spat disdainfully. "Come and get me!" Somehow, he sensed that the wounded pride swelling through him did not exactly belong to him, as did the knowledge of how to create and wield the blade in his hand, but he did not care.

Two Dragon-Blooded, the one clad in red jade and the other wielding a blue jade spear, then pressed on him, making vicious attacks that even with his newfound talent he could barely parry.

Trying to disengage himself from the two warriors, he saw a third figure surrounded by a vibrant green glow, coruscant leaves flying around him like they were blown in a absent wind, and multicolored glyphs flying around him.

Veldygar instinctively recognized the workings of sorcery. And illumination reached him, distant memories from another life that he compared his own experiences to.
Humility. When he had understood that he was merely a part of the greater whole, and that he could contribute to the good of that greater whole.
Tutelage. When had received master Vigon's teachings, expanding his understanding of the world around him.
Journeys and Fear. When his newfound abilities drove him away from his older life in fear.
And Sacrifice. Just now, as he understood that his older self was no more, subsumed into the greater entity that he was now, past the point of no-return.

"Circle of Emerald, BE UNDONE!"
"Essence of Metal, BIND MY FOE!"

As he shouted the words in a perfect Old Realm, making the Lesser Sign of Unmaking with his right hand, the Dragon-Blooded Sorcerer made another mystic gesture, finishing his own casting.

An emerald green hue surrounded him as the local metal was reshaped into tentacular chains that flailed at him and sought to bind him, yet in a shower of green sparkes they were stopped from doing so. Taking advantage from his momentary immunity, he darted, the two warriors hots on his heels, and in a desperate attempt to shackle them, he leapt into the central shaft.

He heard a sound that only his alien memories enabled him to identify as a thundering gale, and the spear wielder was on his back in mid-flight, bringing down the butt of his spearshaft on his head. He let go of his golden sword, and through the unconsciousness seizing him, he witnessed the Dragon-Blooded throwing his spear into the shaft's walls, his hand still linked to the wall by a small thread of Essence, and in a movement like a swinging pendulum, they landed on a platform one level below.

Then he plunged into darkness.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:39, Sun 19 Apr 2009.

At Broken Eternals request I've put together an image of his character, as best I can as I wasn't able to discern his caste or choice weapon.  Believe it or not this is a 3D render using a new technique I'm testing to produce a "Sin City" effect which I thought would be appropriate.  The only real post work was adding the caste mark, where I used Day as it's the easiest to modify into another one if I need to.

Graffiti of Five Coils

Wherever there is oppression, discontent, and humanity, graffiti is found. A message left across stone to show the dissatisfaction of the people, the graffiti in Five Coils varies dramatically, but there are a few of them that stand out. One of these is a set of five blasphemous haiku, praising the sun's dominion over the terrestrial elements. They may sometimes have slight variations, but the following examples tend to be standard.

The Sun burns the Earth
Earth bleaches, and turns to sand
The Sun creates flux.

The sun is that which
All fire tries to imitate
That glorious light.

The sun lights the sea
Gives all water its reason
Brings light to darkness

The sun beats the wind
Rays create current in air
Without? Air stagnates.

Sun brings life to wood
Feeds, nurtures, protects, makes grand
Without the sun... Death.

It's rare that an individual has the time to complete all five haiku, but in these troubled times, more are taking the risk, and have begun to write a sixth.

The five elements
All within the sun's power
None hold back the sun.

The immaculate order and Peace Keeper forces, obviously, take a very dim view towards these opens shows of defiance, but as dissent begins to spread throughout the Five Coils, it becomes harder and harder to suppress.

The waning days of the Solar Reign in the First Age saw many fantastic inventions. The Five-metal Shrike, the most powerful small-scale vehicle ever produced, the Thousand-forged Dragons. None of these compared in sheer power, however, to what could have been the most important discovery ever made: The Protoshinmaic vortex. A kernel of a new creation, protoshinmaic vortexes were used primarily as a- admittedly somewhat unstable- power source, capable of generating truly unimaginable quantities of Essence. Shining Eye had nothing to do with their discovery, but on learning of them, it was intrigued. The age of the Zenith command of the Solar Deliberative seemed to be coming to a close, and Shining Eye, though not as much of a radical as some of the twilights calling for the unmaking and remaking of Creation, believed that protoshinmaic vortexes could be the key to a smaller-scale expansion of creation, and potentially unlimited new tools- Through the careful manipulation of the vortices, it theorized that entirely new Creations could be created, with their own new, foreign Elements. The initial experiment yielded a ReCreation that was inimical to Creation-based life, and was left to be devoured by the Wyld, but in the decade before the Usurpation, Shining Eye headed a small project, designing a ship to travel into the Wyld, carrying a collection of protoshinmaic vortices, to be seeded through the Wyld and reinforced to withstand the Deep Wyld around it. It was launched secretly the night before Calibration began, uncrewed, empty, a shining pearl travelling into the void. If the Usurpation had not come, more of them would have been built, and ReCreations seeded across the endless Wyld, a thousand stars in the night. Some would be uninhabitable, and might be left to die, but even these would provide endless new places to experiment, unleash a panoply of advances for all Creation- And there would be those that, while alien, would be livable if Creation ever need be abandoned.

Nobody knows what happened to the Pearl. Some say that it was destroyed by Unshaped, others that the idea was foolish and unstable from the start, that the ReCreations would simply erode away before anything could be done.

But some say that out there, a chain of worlds lie waiting to be found, and that some of them may even have survived. Nobody alive today remembers Operation Dewdrop now, and only the Celestial Exalted involved with it might ever have a chance of remembering it, to say nothing of the difficulty of finding these places. But should Creation be overrun, they may be the only place left to go.

An artist's conception of Divine Spark, as requested by Danae.  Somehow when she gave me carte-blanche to add whatever features I wanted, the temptation to put a smiley face on the pommel was almost irresistible but at the last minute I put a sunburst instead.  I wasn't entirely sure of a lot of features so I went with a hilt that looks like Clockwork and a jewel-keyboard on the blade spike for controlling added features.

The Fire District is well known as the military and production center of Five Coils--and as is proper, in terms of size, depth, and history, it is also one of the richest that any mortals have a fair stab at reaching.  As such, there are many hidden depths to be found within.  The Shattered Citadel was the core R&D hub of all military research being done within The Pillar of Creation in the First Age, and it is said that many secrets still lie buried within.

Sadly, despite the best efforts of the Council of Five Coils, they've yet to penetrate beyond the Citadel's first line of security...  While admittedly, even cracking the security to get this far inside resulted in a veritable treasure trove of equipment, complete with enough First Age Dragon Armor to provide a suit for each officer of Dragonlord and above...  Despite the best efforts of the Dragon Blooded however, they have yet to reach beyond the facilities in the external courtyard--and in fact, when they sent a collared Anathema inside to see if a Celestial could get in any further--they lost all contact with the one sent inside--rendering this a tricky proposition in the future.

Considering it's apparent power as a Manse, drawing upon the thick Dragon Lines extracted from the very blood of Creation itself as well.  It's little wonder that the Dragon Blooded have taken great pains to try getting inside--and it's usually protected by a garrison of no less then a Wing in size.  Only their refusal to believe that a stray anathema could both overcome the considerable force protecting it, penetrate the defenses that the greatest resources of Five Coils could scratch, and 'Then' turn it to their cause, keeps them from destroying the location outright.

An Anathema capturing the Shattered Citadel would both gain a powerful base within the Fire District, and also be a sounding call to war across the rest of the complex...  The Council could never ignore this stronghold being in anyone hands but their own, and the discontent would finally have a clear banner to rally around...
This message was last edited by the player at 02:42, Wed 29 Apr 2009.