TheHoverpope/TheWright

The Wright of Sprit and Flesh.

Backstory

A twilight caste sorcerer in the first age, Sun's Discovery was one of the greats of the deliberative. He was never a man who was focused on victory or might or power for their own ends, but he was the finest when he searched for knowledge, and he was one of the finest artisans of the age. He walked boldly through creation and learned everything that he could, wrapped in cloaks made of orichalcum and gods who would willingly walk to his forge for the privilege of being a part of something that he had built. He took the knowledge that the world would give him, and he tore free the parts that it would not, and he worked all of the essences that one could see with a deft hand and a quick tongue. And he walked all of the realms of creation and though he did not go there he had eyes in malfeas and in heaven, and he learned nigh on everything that could be known by a man or god or primordial.
After a time, he learned all that he could from within the borders of creation, and so he started to walk the wilderness outside of its borders. And he would walk and shape the very world to new and brilliant forms of his choosing, and the world would twist and warp into new and wondrous lands given shape by his imagination, and men and exalts and gods would flock to his creations, as each new realm that he built was a wondrous place and a glorious land. And he had stretched creation and forced it to grow and flex and live yet more than it ever had. He had countless times walked into the wilderness and broken it to his will, building mountains and creatures and fantastic armours and tools. And it was all unchanging and stable where he passed. Autocthon himself had taught him some mighty arts and given him a piece of his own essence, a sphere that was called his eye, and through it he could build anything he willed. And there was no-one who could match his mastery of creating in the mortal world or finding new shapes for it. He had taken the very fabric of the unformed chaos, declared that its properties were to cover him and keep him clothed and glorious, and let it surround him. He shifted from wearing fine robes made of the eyes of clouds to a shimmering suit that was constructed out of birdsong and a tunic forged out of temperance. And always it surrounded a man who never lost his wonder at everything new that he found, and every piece of knowledge that he could take in. And after many hundred years of brilliant invention that seemed endless in its scope, he stopped. He realized that he had built everything in his mind, and there was nothing left and new. He had seen and understood all of creation, and the wyld that he had seen was a mere reflection of it. He had seen into the green and brass of the demon realm, and he found that the yozi there created, but their creations were by their very natures limited and channelled predictably and blandly. He had touched the whole world, and he had built many new ones, and there was nothing left for him to do.
When the Dragonbloods rose and started to slay their masters, they sent out for him armies of terrestrials who had been touched by madness. The thought was that they would better be able to deal with the world shaping itself to the will of Sun's Discovery, that their madness would distract him as he tried to explore their damaged minds. The hordes found him sitting on a hillside in the west, staring at the water. He did not move as they approached, and as their spears sank into him, he just sighed and sat down to wait for death.
The Malfeans took his spirit under their wings, and they showed him that there were new worlds for him to explore in the underworld, new and inconstant and changing realms bordered by the ultimate unknowable oblivion. And they told him that if he fed it his name, he would have a new being and self to explore. He accepted, and traded in his name for nothingness, and in its place he took the name The Wright of Spirit and Flesh, and he realized his new crafts. And for a short time he was at least content in his new exploration. But it was not long, barely a life of man, before he found that in all of the world of the dead, there was nothing that is not just a faded mirror of creation, and he grew to loathe his new position.
The wright had mastered the crafts of the dead, and they wearied him as they were just the same as the old but with less variation. He realized what his one desire was. He did not wish for oblivion, for he now understood what it was; it was nothing, and nothing held no interest for long. He longs to walk into lethe, to bathe himself in the spirit of forgetfulness and to take a chance at learning everything again; for his joy was not in knowledge, but in discovery and he would do anything to taste it again. The malfeans have refused him this, and bound him to their realm yet more tightly so that he may not attempt it without their blessing. And he has remained there, doing his masters' biddings to this day, seething in boredom and rage. If he had a moment's chance, he would turn on them and stride into forgetfulness and a new life, but that is not an option left to him. He loves his new abyssal servants, for sometimes they surprise even him; but it is a bitter and jealous love, and he hates them for their opportunity to learn. Given a hope for one of them to achieve redemption, he would probably help them such that he might experience something new. On the other hand, he would, given the chance, send the world into chaos that it might be remade; and he would, given the chance, forget everything that he might learn it again.
The Wright is fairly quiet in his plans; and they are few. He does not wish the world to be swallowed into oblivion, but cannot act against the Malfeans. He does, however, thirst for knowledge.

The Wright's Servants

The Wright has a small stable of five Abyssal exalts under his command; they interested him, and he was free with manipulating and distorting them, leaving some horribly mutilated and some perfectly intact but somehow changed. He has torn shards out of them to see what would happen, and for a short time he was frequently killing his own abyssals and putting their shards in new people just to learn more about them. Now, he has grown tired with them and primarily leaves them to their own devices. Only one has been alive since the abyssals were first created, Monsoon of his Own Tears, and he has been left a twisted and mad hulk of a creature by the Wright's experimentation, unable to even move under his own power or have any understanding of a reason to do so. One of his other abyssals, Bitter Granite Soul, has been twisted to be a bizarre hybrid of man, ghost and steel. Another has been driven more than mad by the Wright's attempt to infuse dozens of souls into his being. The remaining two abyssals are untouched as yet, but understandably nervous. One of the Wright's shards recently was redeemed, after a fashion.

The Wright's Panoply

The Wright is a consummate craftsman. He has all the artifacts that one could ever want, ever. His artifact background is essentially unlimited, and he builds new things of great power whenever he so desires. This is one of his greatest sources of power, and he has nearly endless warehouses in Elsewhere filled with great treasures he has built.

The Maul that Unmakes That Which Is (artifact NA)
One of the wright's great artifacts, it appears a hammer made of starmetal, studded with bolts and rivets of soulsteel; it is small, sized as a small one handed hammer, but weighs a deceptively massive amount. The starmetal was made from a great god of knowledge, and the studs are made of soulsteel obtained from a circle of solars, a sidereal of every caste, and a lunar from each of their original five castes. The whole device screams in harmony when it strikes metal. Set in the handle is a small sphere of the void. It is an incredibly potent tool, and it massively augments the work of the wielder; any damage roll or crafts roll made with it is converted to automatic successes. It is directly connected to oblivion, and for ten motes, anything it strikes may have its essence swallowed by oblivion. The damage it deals becomes aggravated and will never heal without the aid of solar circle sorcery that is as yet unknown, as the bodies of its victimes are unmade; if one is wounded by not killed, they will become more ephemeral and less real as the hammer consumes their essence. Anything that it kills or destroys is instantly and utterly devoured by oblivion, with the exception of the essence shards of exalts which will return to their normal cycle. The Wright has considered turning the weapon on himself in order to experience being unmade, but has realized that Oblivion is not his goal and so he refrains.
Speed: +0, Accuracy: +6, Damage: +14 L, Defense: +0, Rate: unlimited, Str requirement: 6

Resplendent Girded in Space Itself (artifact 4)
Though by no means the Wright's greatest enchantment, this item is one of great potency and utility. It is a long cloak, pooling on the floor behind its wearer, connecting at the neck with a perfectly reflective circular clasp. The cloak itself is of a pure, completely pristine white; it is nearly impossible to define any borders or folds when looking at it. The cloak is an alloy of soulsteel, ivory culled from a hekatonakhire, and a piece of elsewhere dragged into creation. Once per scene, the wearer may spend three motes and a willpower to make elsewhere absorb a blow aimed at the wielder. An arrow fired at him will pass into elsewhere through the front of the cloak and out again through the back; a sword will protrude from his back without passing through his chest. This protects the wearer without rolling as a perfect dodge from one attack he is aware of, even if the attack is normally undodgeable. Mechanically, this is identical to Heavenly Guardian Defense, with the exception that it is a dodge and not a parry. The cloak does not count as armor. The wright produced this cloak out of elsewhere when he found it impossible to perfectly bind oblivion to the degree that it would be safe to wrap around oneself. If the wright were to discover an art to let him do so, he could produce Anger Weeping in the Darkness, an artifct NA item that permanently sends to oblivion and destroys anything that strikes it when activated in the same manner.