HOME | DD

Description
Unearthed Arcana

Song: E.S. Posthumus -  Lepcis Magna

Nadare Masaru’s life right now was a mess. No, mess definately was NOT the right word to describe it properly. More like a smoldering ruin in the middle of a crater in the West ready to be enveloped by a tsunami right before it is consumed by the Wyld. Yep, that was more like it. No, he was not exaggerating, not at all actually. Ok, maybe he was exaggerating just a tiny bit; but so would anyone in his uniquely inauspicious place.
Mere months ago he seemed to be destined for success, for only “destined” could someone call his dazzling rise to prominence. Nothing less than a post as Convention Head was his fate; a fate ,he had dreamt back then to be achieved in a really short term since that the Convention of Air was as of recent headless. His childhood was spent learning of his duties as a member of the Five-Score Fellowship, those few that were Chosen by the Maidens of the stars themselves to oversee fate at their behest. The secrets of the stars and how to use them to influence events in Creation, the process of weaving the great Tapestry of Destiny that was constantly carried out by the Pattern Spiders, the strange half-machine, half- little gods workers created by Autocthon, right after the  Great Maker agreed to help his masterwork creations the Incarnae against his Primordial brethren. The fabled martial arts styles of the Sidereals, techniques that went far beyond movement patterns to become patterns of fate to wield against the Seer’s enemies.
And then when Jupiter, her Ladyship, decided to impart him with the spark of one of her Chosen of Secrets he really started going. He was the talk of the century. He had skills unmatched by any of his generation of Seers; and he knew it. He had potential unseen for ages; and he knew it. He was the favorite of many in the Golden Faction; and he knew it. He was a great prodigy even among the Exalted of the gods; and he knew it. But his undoing was a single critical failure; and he had known it not.
He was assigned a routine mission by that mysterious shadow of a Convention, the Convention of Oversight. It seemed simple really it did. He only had to unveil the petty consipiracies of a minor Guild druglord up in Gethamane, one Mori Akio, and ensure the “removal” of his right hand mercenary, Mistress of Blue Stars. He even had “assistance” for such a simple task, something that should had tipped him off in the first place.
And maybe it would if he did consider Auspicious Flower of the Morn assistance. Auspicious Flower they said when they named her; more like an overly cheerful, overbearing, constantly screaming immature girl that was the bane of his existance. Always wearing that violet kimono crysanthemum designs on it (as if anyone would bother to dress like that while trying to take care of the whole Celestial Bureaucracy and finish up missions in Creation, really)! And always polishing that huge daiklave of hers (such an uncouth and uncivilised, primitively designed weapon compared to his pair of fate rings- a weapon truly fit to be wielded by an Exalt of stature) with a queer gleam in her blue eyes. And most disturbingly of all her cheerfulness; a chosen of the Maiden of Endings was not supposed to be constantly happy, and loudly so; they are supposed to be grim and sour lipe Saturn herself. Whereas Flower looked happy even while she was ending lives of those that needed to die to make room for new things as decreed by the Bureau of Destiny. But enough thoughts on that red haired Goldie. Back on the mission that  doomed him.
Everything that could go wrong did go so; it was as if the universe new what they wanted more and it consipired to stop them from accomplishing it. Every single one of their moves anticipated; no astrological help due to their own, rather misguided in bitter retrospect, confidence on their abilities for such a simple mission, not enough time to change tacticts and too much risk in just destroying and/or killing everyone and leaving it at that (yes, he had considered it for a moment, as desperate times make for drastic measures, don’t they?).
Turned out their failure was dire enough to have them both trnsfered to the Sub-Convention on Forbidden Gods in the Convention on Essense wielders. A subdivision created right after the Incarnae took over after they banished or slayed their Primordial masters, it had to exterminate and catalogue every god that was still loyal to the fallen Primordials. After two whole Ages of Creation the first part of the job was over- permanently it seemed. Only the bookkeeping and archiving was left to them. It was a Vizier’s nightmare; a position that granted no privileges, took away most that you already had, made you into a lowly librarian and stained your reputation, a reputation that you had spent decades making by marking you as a failure.
But noooo, he was too damn proud to just live with it and try to spend the years away on a sabbatical on Creation to further goals of his own or something of the sort until he was tranfered again after his period of bureaucratic exile was over. He had  a job to do and he would carry it out the only way he knew; like a true prodigy. And that  annoying Gold Faction assasin-wanabee wouldn’t drag him down if she disagreed. He would start again the active search for any leftover Forbidden Gods in Creation and see where it gets them. Even if it did seem kind of futile, pointless and/or a waste of time. It wasn’t as if he (or she for that matter) had anything better to do with it. And chasing after chimeras was definately better than just waiting in inaction and dishonour as the failure others perceived you to be, right?
His real troubles had yet to begin...

Description
Unearthed Arcana

Song: E.S. Posthumus -  Lepcis Magna

Nadare Masaru’s life right now was a mess. No, mess definately was NOT the right word to describe it properly. More like a smoldering ruin in the middle of a crater in the West ready to be enveloped by a tsunami right before it is consumed by the Wyld. Yep, that was more like it. No, he was not exaggerating, not at all actually. Ok, maybe he was exaggerating just a tiny bit; but so would anyone in his uniquely inauspicious place.
Mere months ago he seemed to be destined for success, for only “destined” could someone call his dazzling rise to prominence. Nothing less than a post as Convention Head was his fate; a fate ,he had dreamt back then to be achieved in a really short term since that the Convention of Air was as of recent headless. His childhood was spent learning of his duties as a member of the Five-Score Fellowship, those few that were Chosen by the Maidens of the stars themselves to oversee fate at their behest. The secrets of the stars and how to use them to influence events in Creation, the process of weaving the great Tapestry of Destiny that was constantly carried out by the Pattern Spiders, the strange half-machine, half- little gods workers created by Autocthon, right after the  Great Maker agreed to help his masterwork creations the Incarnae against his Primordial brethren. The fabled martial arts styles of the Sidereals, techniques that went far beyond movement patterns to become patterns of fate to wield against the Seer’s enemies.
And then when Jupiter, her Ladyship, decided to impart him with the spark of one of her Chosen of Secrets he really started going. He was the talk of the century. He had skills unmatched by any of his generation of Seers; and he knew it. He had potential unseen for ages; and he knew it. He was the favorite of many in the Golden Faction; and he knew it. He was a great prodigy even among the Exalted of the gods; and he knew it. But his undoing was a single critical failure; and he had known it not.
He was assigned a routine mission by that mysterious shadow of a Convention, the Convention of Oversight. It seemed simple really it did. He only had to unveil the petty consipiracies of a minor Guild druglord up in Gethamane, one Mori Akio, and ensure the “removal” of his right hand mercenary, Mistress of Blue Stars. He even had “assistance” for such a simple task, something that should had tipped him off in the first place.
And maybe it would if he did consider Auspicious Flower of the Morn assistance. Auspicious Flower they said when they named her; more like an overly cheerful, overbearing, constantly screaming immature girl that was the bane of his existance. Always wearing that violet kimono crysanthemum designs on it (as if anyone would bother to dress like that while trying to take care of the whole Celestial Bureaucracy and finish up missions in Creation, really)! And always polishing that huge daiklave of hers (such an uncouth and uncivilised, primitively designed weapon compared to his pair of fate rings- a weapon truly fit to be wielded by an Exalt of stature) with a queer gleam in her blue eyes. And most disturbingly of all her cheerfulness; a chosen of the Maiden of Endings was not supposed to be constantly happy, and loudly so; they are supposed to be grim and sour lipe Saturn herself. Whereas Flower looked happy even while she was ending lives of those that needed to die to make room for new things as decreed by the Bureau of Destiny. But enough thoughts on that red haired Goldie. Back on the mission that  doomed him.
Everything that could go wrong did go so; it was as if the universe new what they wanted more and it consipired to stop them from accomplishing it. Every single one of their moves anticipated; no astrological help due to their own, rather misguided in bitter retrospect, confidence on their abilities for such a simple mission, not enough time to change tacticts and too much risk in just destroying and/or killing everyone and leaving it at that (yes, he had considered it for a moment, as desperate times make for drastic measures, don’t they?).
Turned out their failure was dire enough to have them both trnsfered to the Sub-Convention on Forbidden Gods in the Convention on Essense wielders. A subdivision created right after the Incarnae took over after they banished or slayed their Primordial masters, it had to exterminate and catalogue every god that was still loyal to the fallen Primordials. After two whole Ages of Creation the first part of the job was over- permanently it seemed. Only the bookkeeping and archiving was left to them. It was a Vizier’s nightmare; a position that granted no privileges, took away most that you already had, made you into a lowly librarian and stained your reputation, a reputation that you had spent decades making by marking you as a failure.
But noooo, he was too damn proud to just live with it and try to spend the years away on a sabbatical on Creation to further goals of his own or something of the sort until he was tranfered again after his period of bureaucratic exile was over. He had  a job to do and he would carry it out the only way he knew; like a true prodigy. And that  annoying Gold Faction assasin-wanabee wouldn’t drag him down if she disagreed. He would start again the active search for any leftover Forbidden Gods in Creation and see where it gets them. Even if it did seem kind of futile, pointless and/or a waste of time. It wasn’t as if he (or she for that matter) had anything better to do with it. And chasing after chimeras was definately better than just waiting in inaction and dishonour as the failure others perceived you to be, right?
His real troubles had yet to begin...