Scrollreader/5PillarsStory

Our Souls Through Our Eyes

Beginnings

Well. My story is a little more complicated than most folks. When I was a child, in Arjuf, things were so simple. I worked at my lessons, and found myself to be good at them. I impressed the local Immaculate, and he recommended my parents send me to be trained. They were quite pleased at both my sucess, and at my having found a way to support myself. I was 12, when I went to Secondary School. 17, when I first attended the cloister. And there. There my faith was confirmed and sealed. I was /there/. With the Dragonblooded Immaculates. The Power of the Dragon glinted in their eyes, in their skin, in their hair. And their demonstrations ... Charms, Forms, Katas. I studied all of them. I couldn't perform them, of course. There's the Essence, you see. Mortal bodies have three dimensions, and the Exalted have four, as they shape their /essence/ in tune with everything else. But I watched. I listened. And I learned. 40 years of my life, spent with the Immaculate Order. At first I was a student. And then, a master, of the mortal arts. And it was there, first in secondary school, and then throughout all my long years, that I met Ragara Miln. He was an Exalt of course. But we became fast friends, anyway, each of us in the place the Dragon had ordained for us. I was his helper, his set of mortal hands and eyes and feet, and we would talk, on the nature of things, and true meaning of the Immaculate texts. Even though his aspect was Earth, he chose the Path of Water, and Excelled at it. While some whispered that it was because of his weak breeding, I knew better. He felt the call of the Water Dragon. And he soon showed those who scoffed that he was anything but weak. And so things went for my life. I served the Order, and they were everything to me. I followed Ragara Miln to the threshold, to the Lap, a Realm trbutary, and thus it was, for some time. Stopping minor heresies, and educating the poor youth of the Threshold who didn't have the benefit of growing up in the Realm. I could have retired, happily enough, I think. Though it would have been hard, to grow older yet, and fade away, and seeing Miln go ever onward. But then, he was Chosen by the Dragons. And I was but mortal.

Exaltation

It started out just like it should have. Rumors of a small cult over North and West of the Lap. Didn't seem like too much trouble, and so It was just me and Miln. Like usual. He'd show up, we'd find out the problem, and he'd probably scare the spirit into backing down. I'd deal with the mortals, and then we'd stay for a few weeks, and make sure things were settled. Happened all the time. So, that time, they're throwing virgins into the sea, onto rocks below, to placate "The God of Salt and Blood". While Miln went to go talk to the god (if there was one. Half the time the villagers were just nuts) I tried to talk to the people. And then, I heard Ragara Miln roar, and the sounds of battle rang out from below. As I looked down, I saw him fighting a massive, god-shark of some kind. It didn't look to be going well. And then, while I was (stupidly) watching, the villagers pushed me over the edge of the cliff. 55 years old, and deing because I got pushed off a cliff. Irony, it seems, has uses for old men. But that was note my fate, that day. Ragara Miln, whirled, as I fell. How he knew, I don't know. I hadn't asked for his help. And then, he was there, and he caught me. But it cost him dearly. As he turned his attention away from the foul creature, it lunged up from the shallows and savaged him, it's deadly teeth tearing through him. And he fell. What was he thinking? I had, at most, a dozen mortal years left, of slowly declining faculties. He had centuries. And he sacrificed hismelf, for me. I whirled, as rage overcame me. I stood over his body, and I invoked the Water Dragon Form. My body shifted and flowed, and I found a way through his hide, again and again. And we fought, the Spirit-Shark with mindless rage, and me with Water's Grace. Luckily, the shark was already near death. Miln would have beaten it, in a fair fight. But I did win, bloodied, but not defeated. I hoisted the body of my fallen friend over my shoulder, only now becoming aware of the golden glow surrounding me. As I strode up the mountain, I had other things to worry about, however. When the cultists had all been slain (the innocent had fled the village when they saw Miln arrive) I took the time to rest. And to grieve. As I looked down into the water, it seemed to play tricks on me. 20 years had been taken off my life. And my face, once so like as to Ragara Milns that we were once able to be mistaken for each other, had lost the wrinkles and lines of age which I had gained, and he had not. Again, we could have been brothers. It was then I came to the decision, without truly realizing it. Later, of course, would come the supporting acts. Miln's funeral, on the shore. Returning to the Monastary as a stranger, for the briefest visit I had ever paid. And making myself armor, from the hide of the corrupt and bloody god who had killed my friend. But at that moment, I knew. Ragara Miln had sacrificed himself for me. It was what I owed the Dragons And the Sun, to see his work continued. Creation was out of balance. And while the Immaculate Order was not perfect. LIARS AND MURDERERS! my conscience screamed. Ragara Miln had been working for the greater good. And so must I.

Obligations of the Caste

Our Duty is what defines us. It gives us a way in which to relate to the world. I am Exalted. And that, by itself, comes with a whole mess of responsibilities. I have to help mortals deal with threats beyond their ken. Fair Folk. Undead. Spirits. Demons. This is what the Princes of the Earth are /here/ for. But there's more to it than that, for me. I grew up in the Realm. It's not perfect. And the Immaculate Order ... it poisons people. The Immaculates, they mean well. But the Order itself. It's too wrong to be this way by accident. Someone, somewhere, somehow, inverted the Righteous Order of creation. I get the sinking feeling it might have been us, a long time ago, who got the whole thing rolling. But I'm a Copper Spider. A Twilight of the Unconquered Sun. I build bridges and wonders, cast great works of sorcery. I have been given a unique chance to /fix/ the Realm. It doesn't need to be torn down, rather, like an ancient bridge, creaking under the weight, be rebuilt, anf reforged. If we are do it right this time, we must use what is already around. Any craftsman appreciates the beauty in the materials he has to work with. So yeah. There's a long road ahead. Stopping the Deathlords. Fighting back the Fey. Reforming the Spirits, and then the Realm. But then, I'm a hero of the Unconquered Sun now. /He/ exalted /Me/. And I'm ready to do my part.

The World Awaiting Us

Mortals

Mortals are the people who we serve. And who serve us. We exist to protect mortals, and we were all mortals, once. We are called to protect them. And we forget this at our peril. As, indeed, many of my memories and dreams would seem to indicate. I dissassociate the dreams, sometime. He, and not I. But it /was/ me, doing all those terrible things. And so it can become again, if we forget the lessons History has painfully taught us.

The DragonBlooded

Chosen of the Dragons. Once, I envied them. Now, I pity them. They are heroes, at the best of times. Granite Mountain. Ragara Miln. And many others beside. But fr each of these, is a Scarlet Empress, a Peleps Danaad, or Heir of Cynis. They have become as corrupt as we, and it is indeed ironic that we, who were overthrown for our unrighteousness, must now help them through theirs. But they broke the world, with wanton slaghter. We must show them a yet more excellent way. We must save them from themselves, so they may save us from ourselves, until once again we might side by said against all the enemies of creation. But it is a long road. Even as I meditate on this, I sit, in the Manse I built, for a Mighty Terrestrial long since dead. When I look through the workshop, I see him. And though once I disdained his spellbook as too humble for me to trap and destroy, in my petty vengeance, now I eargerly learn the secrets inscribed within. There is no Man, Nor God, Nor Exalt so mighty he cannot learn from even the most humble, if he will but listen.

Other Exalted

Where are our Brothers and Sisters? The Lunars and the Sidereals? Fled, or Destroyed? Trapped, as we were? We should seek them out, though I fear what we will find ...

As for our fellow Solars. We will /not/ fall intot he decadence and gilded horrors of our past again so easily. Not as long as I draw breath, and can stand against them.

The Fair Folk

They howl at the gates of creation. But only howl. Dangerous, even to one of us, there is no question. They fear the Reality Defense Grid. As well they should. One of the prime reasons we need to get the Realm on our side. Some of the Dynasts ... would probably destroy the grid, to spite us our victory. In the meantime, we can never trust the enemies of creation,. but they may prove useful enough at times, if they can be manipulated.

The Dead

As if we /needed/ a sign that Creation was badly out of alignment from the Righteous Path. Still. Rumors say th dead have secrets thought lost from the First Age. A Cautious trade of knowledge and favors may be best for now, especially if they can help us regain what was lost.

Voices Not Our Own

An unopened letter to Ragara Miln, waiting in the Lap.

Dearest Cousin.

While your devotion to the immaculate order has always been ... zealous, this last is too much to bear. 2 years without a letter? Your superiors in the immaculate order have reported that they too have not had any conact from you, save isolated reports of you wandering the the wilderness, and rebuking spirits, from nowhere. Of coure, there's no /proof/ that you're a heretic, and the official family line is that you are meditating on the Dragon, and focusing your esence. However. You do understand that re-aligning the family manses and redistubiting the stones to those of our family who we can know, and see working for the good of the Family, as well as the Realm, is nothing personal, merely business. When you return to the Imperial Isle, you'll have some explaining to do, if you want back in this family. In the meantime, despite what our elders say, I do hope you're doing well.

PS The Family of that mortal of yours was grateful for the news of his death, bravely fighting heretics and twisted spirits. They remain confident he will exalt in his next lifetime, as his sacrifice for the Dragons brings him to their attention.

PPS Now that the Empress is gone, the family needs you, more than ever. Especially if your mastery of your essence is as great as the stories say. We need good people in the Immaculate order /here/. If the Empire falls, then the threshold will mean nothing. Please, send word soon.

A letter from The immaculate temple of the Lap, to Ragara Talot

Your cousin returned from his expedition against a Siakal Cult bleeding, but unbowed. He feels, I think, some grief for the death of his mortal companion, though their relationship, i thnk, was never more than it ought, they had been friends for a very long time. At his request, we granted him an indefinate furlough. Someone of his talents will be missed, but who are we to question him when he asks us for time to listen more closely to the dragons? In the time since, he has retreated somewhere and though he has not yet returned to us, we hear that his work in the outlying areas continues, and that gods and men have been educated and protected by his hand. Enclosed is his set of Armor, which he indicated should go 'back to the family who has a thousand years of tradition invested, and every bit as much honor' to it. His asceticism is noble, if perhaps msiplaced. We shall pray that the immaculate dragons guide him to wisdom, and miss his presence here.

Jade Mountain, Brother of Five Pillars

Oh. My brother. Well, I suppose he would have been happy to die the way he did. Always a bit of a hero. Mother, bless her heart, wouldn't have undestood, but she's been dead for years, now. Father knew, I think. What it meant to Five Pillars. They say he's almost certain to come back as an Exalt in his next life. I can't say the same for myself. But then, I have my children and grandchildren. When you get to be my age, you learn to appreciate your legacy more. His legacy? Well, I guess it's keeping the realm safe from Anathema and Mad Gods, and suchlike. Dragons know he was getting too old to keep up with it anymore, anyhow. He's probably happier, this way, then if he'd ended up behind a desk, or in a training dojo somewhere. But! That's enough talk of the dead. Give an old man a hand up, and out into the sun, and I'll show you my garden ...

Gentle Falling Water, Rain Spirit

Look. I /don't/ want to talk about that stuffy Immaculate. After all, without my rain, the people not just here, but in the Realm would starve too! And the sanctioned immaculate holidays just aren't enough for somebody with my taste for things. Yu-Shan is an expensive place to live. Alright, /fine/. Yes, I was scamming a few more prayers than I ought, but only out on the edges. I know better than to mess with the Immaculate Temple in the Lap, believe me. But then, this Immaculate shows up, out of nowhere. I'd heard about him, of course. The Wandering Immaculate. Seeing the skin of the gods draped around him left me with little doubt. Ugh. Anyway, yes. He shows up, at this dinky little village out in the boonies, and has the gall to threaten /me/. And while I was de-materialized, no less. How rude. So one of my priests goes to hex him, and he unleashes Emerald Countermagic. Immaculates are bad enough. Sorcerors too. But an Immaculate Sorceror? Gah! But he's no normal immaculate. No, I can't tell you that. Yes, I swore an oath. And no, I'm not going to risk /really/ making him angry, just to sate your curiousity. If you really want to know, go extort some illegal prayers from the villages, and he'll find you. You might learn something.

Dreams of the First Age

Building

And now, the final touches are in place. I doublecheck my measurements. After all, even /I/ can't see the streams of essence here, from the outside. As I step into the nascent manse though, I can see them, like invisible webs of Earth Energy, shaped by the statue from the dragon tracks all around. It's a very subtle effect, and the manses around the base of the mountain hide it well. Only I and my beautiful wife know about it. And of course, the man I built it for. Granite Mountain is three steps behind me, as always, clad in the armor I made for him, and eternally at my side. Well. Not eternally. In another century or so he will be gone. I will miss him, I think. And so, I have built for him this Hidden Fortress Manse. For him, a gift. For me, a remembrance. When he is gone, this will remain. Forever. I nod, and release, gradually, the blocks and dams of my will on the essence flows, as they converge on the manse. In the Hearthstone Chamber, the jewels hangs, glistening, black as night. I nod, and Granite Mountain steps forward and graps the gem, as he lays claim to the manse. He smiles then, and Silver Nightengale and I leave him to enjoy and explore his manse. It's exactly what he wanted, as I saw it in his dreams, and as my Wife and I shaped it to be. It is /his/. And it will always be his, even when he is gone.

Revenge

Lotus Blossoming in the Twilight Sunset laughed, and it was a harsh cruel sound. He of course, was far mighter then the pathetic might of the Dragonblooded Host and their Sidereal Puppetmasters. But he had allowed himself to be taken. Why? He could have hidden in the manse as he had until now. He was certain it was hidden, even from the prying eyes of the Sidereals. The only two beings other than himself that knew of it were dead. His loyal bodyguard and servant, the might hero of the Earth Dragon, Granite Mountain, had died peacefully come centuries before. And he had, personally, wrung the life from the neck of Silver Nightengale, his Lunar Wife, just a week ago, when she had come to urge him to flee. The reason of course, was as simpl, as it was beautiful: revenge. The word glittered like a precious jewel in his mind's eye, as he examined each and every facet. He smiled, as his orichalchum jewelry and tools, and weapons were taken. And then he smiled, and the first of three of his careful preparations took effect. The Essence Spires all around him exploded, as he withdrew, with but a thought, the carefully established dams of essence he'd established during his exile in his hidden Fortress Manse. And all the mortals within a hundred miles died, screaming. And then, Lotus Blossoming in the Twilight Sunset spoke a word of great power, and every one of his baubles exploded. As did his staff, and his sword. He would, he thought, have rather liked to weild them in his next life when he struck down these fools and their children. But he could always make more. And thus, did the Dragonblooded fall. He smiled, as he saw one of the 'Dragon Blooded' evade an explosion with a style he recognized, the resplendent destiny falling away in tatters. And then he smiled, at the Sidereal, for a moment, and spoke the Rune of Singular Hatred. And the Sidereal faltered, and fell. And then, in the midst of the dead, as he could /feel/ the Shadowland welling up from beneath him, the Sorceror smiled, and he laughed again, lesser than he had been, but greater still than his enemies. And even as he noticed the first reactions, and felt through his eyes of essence, the engines of the screaming skycraft coming for him, he smiled, and at last, invoked the blessing of the Unconquered Self. And thus, he died, as he had lived, as and when he wished, and for others, he gave not a damn.

Goals, Desires, and Fears

Enemies A few minor spirits bear him grudges, though he hasn't had to hurt any seriously. Yet. For the moment, Warnings and Displays of power have convinced them.

Allies None of yet. Though many villages have seen him, or had him deal with local spirits, the displays have been separated by miles, and he doesn't identify himself. Most of the goodwill goes to the Immaculates in the Lap.

Goals More Sorcery, More Necromancy, and just more!. So much has been lost ...
Find a way to inform his family of his true fate, and that he lives.
Inform the family of Ragara Miln of his honorable death.

Hooks and Travails!
Ragara Miln's family comes looking for him!
Another family takes steps to remove Ragara Miln from the picture!
One of the Spirits starts talking! This violates it's oath, and would get it in trouble with a Censor. Unless it had a bribe ready, or a way to silence 5 Pillars.
Knowledge! A lost library, or maybe a first age cache. Former memories, or a Deathlord could provide hints. But can they be trusted? And if so, how far?
The Mystical process that hides the Manse of Silent Stone is winding down. It can be recharged, but only with a few rare components ...
5 Pillars witnesses, or hears of, another Immaculate, Harsh and puritanical, punishing villagers for harmless deviations from Immaculate Philosphy. He can't stand by and do nothing!

Future XP Expenditures

Charms
 Ox-Body Technique
 Essence Gathering Temper
 Shrouded Claw Attack -> Hungry Ghost Form
 Theft of Essence Method -> Ghost Restraining Whirlpool Stance
 Flow Reversal Strike -> Crashing Wave Style
 Bottomless Depths Defense
 Reed in the Wind -> Shadow Over Water
 Shadowlands Circle Necromancy

Abilities
 Craft
 Martial Arts
 Dodge
Backgrounds
 Allies