“Blue Steel” Franky
Alchemical Exalted
Starmetal Caste
As a rule, the Alchemical Exalted are created in Autocthonia, not Creation. They are hand-picked by a group of sages, not chosen by fate, and they are painstakingly constructed following proven design principles, not frantically and single-handedly improvised in a half-dead fever.
That is the rule--but the Third Age is an age of exceptions.
Starmetal Castes are associated with innovation, knowledge, the color blue, Sidereal Exalted, and the Autochthonian element of steam.
Other cast members: Luffy - Zoro - Nami - Vivi - Chopper - Robin - Brook
To be clear. I don’t want “our past love ended in betrayal and anger and now we hate each other.” I want “we died in love and in each other’s arms” but the current incarnations do NOT remember and they ARE trying their best to End the other one and these new sudden flashbacks to lovingly holding each other’s hands is EXTREMELY UPSETTING
Solars swim against the currents,
Lunars live beyond endurance.
Dragon-Bloods were born to rule,
Sidereals become fate's tool.
Infernals sign their souls away,
and life's the price Abyssals pay.
That's all the Exalts in a rhyme,
though there may yet come more in time.
the tale of demon cutter and the rampant swan, part 5
Though it seemed dire enough to end the time of Man all on its own, the Corpses’ Winter turned out to be only the first shot in an apocalyptic broadside. Just as the armies of the dead, led by a triumvirate of ancient Deathlords--one of whom was the First and Forsaken Lion, he who owned the being that had once been Demon Cutter--swept in from the jungles of the east, the Fair Folk of the South and West rent the borders of the world once more and streamed over mortal and Exalt alike, like a furious river too long dammed. Whole cities in the North began to disappear, cut to pieces by the wind, leaving only the stench of brimstone.
Some of the Dragon-Bloods--and especially their Sideral handlers--were prepared for imminent catastrophe, but they were far too few to hold the tide back. The rest of the Dragon-Bloods, hampered as they were by an incompetent Regent and panicking populace, were caught on the back foot. They scrambled to stitch an army together, but they knew that with no Empress and no access to the Imperial Defenses, their efforts were almost certainly worthless....
Three months after the end of the world, the ancient Lunar Ma-Ha-Suchi came ashore on the Imperial Island, thirty Lunars at his back. He strode right to the doors of the Deliberative, shrugging off the spears of the Wild Hunt like a bull shrugs off the flies, and shattered the marble with one blow. “Hear me!” he roared over the terrified crowd. “I have come not for your Empire, but to save the world we share. At this moment, my allies are sailing here--threescore ships of them. If there are any of you who can truly call yourselves children of Dragons, you will come to my war council at dawn, and you will bring your Sidereal puppeteers!”
At dawn, perhaps a dozen Imperials found their way to Ma-Ha-Suchi’s camp, to be greeted by more Anathema than they had ever dreamed existed. Ma-Ha-Suchi had caught the scent of the Deathlords and the Gentry long before most of the Empire had, and he had spent the last five years scouring the land for Exalts, mortal thaumaturgists and spiritualists, Beastmen, and anyone else who could smell it too.
It was there, by the bonfire at the center of the camp, that Ma-Ha-Suchi revealed to the Empire what he planned to do. “Open the cages you have put my brothers and sisters in,” he said. “Bring them here. Call your siblings and your cousins and your children from their surveying and their jade-counting. We will need them all.”
“But,” said one Dragon-Blooded, “why? This is a mighty army, but it can’t possibly compare to the forces of the dead and the damned.”
The ancient Lunar smiled. “This is not an army,” he said. “This is a will-working. As long as the world has borders, they can be breached. I have seen the collapse of this Creation twice in my own lifetime, and I doubt it will survive long enough to do it again--unless we take those borders away.”
“What are you saying?” said the Dragon-Blooded. “How could we take away the borders of Creation?”
“What is a line without an end?” said Ma-Ha-Suchi.
“...A circle?” said the Dragon-Blooded.
“So it shall be,” said Ma-Ha-Suchi. “We shall reshape the very bones of this world.”
The Dragon-Blooded sputtered in shock. “But to do that, we would need--”
“We would need thousands of Exalts? Tens of thousands? Millions?” said Ma-Ha-Suchi. “Perhaps, if we planned to survive. Is it not said in your own tales that the Dragon Hesiesh burned all of his Essence away in a moment to cremate the bodies of my mad brothers and sisters? Does not his fire run through your veins?” He looked over the crowd. “My friends, this year will bring the end of the world. We may try in vain to hold on, or we may prepare for a new one.”
---
In the months that followed, fast ships sailed by the dozens from the Imperial Isle to every ley node and Demesne in the Imperial Records. Not all--not even most--of the Dragon-Blooded had agreed to Ma-Ha-Suchi’s plan, but those that did managed to scrape together enough Exalts, demonologists, Illuminated monks, and thaumaturgists to triple the size of Ma-Ha-Suchi’s forces. They could only pray it would be enough.
On Calibration Night of that year, the will-working began. Mortals, half-castes, and Dragon-Bloods flickered out like candles by the hundreds, pouring the totality of their beings into the greatest work of Man. The Solars, Lunars, and Sidereals of the company scoured themselves to the very roots of their souls. Some aged to death in seconds, or died of cardiac arrest, or erupted into flames.
It is said that the Primordials made Creation in a week. It took only ten times that span for humans to remake it. Ma-Ha-Suchi hung on until the final hours of the working. He died howling in triumph, with the light of Luna shining in his eyes.
--
The Reshaping, as it came to be called, drastically changed the tide of the war. With creation wrapped into a sphere, the Fair Folk could no longer retreat to the formless chaos of their home, and without it, they began to calcify and crumble away. The Infernal and Abyssal forces were routed in sheer confusion. The war did not end for another hundred years, but humankind never again lost the upper hand.
It did not become evident until years after the Reshaping, but the dying Fair Folk had laid a curse on the Reshapers. All surviving Lunars, Solaroids, and Sidereals that had been present, and the reincarnations of those who had died, began to suffer what became known as the Curse of the Sea. Forevermore, the ocean would be a barrier to their powers and their very survival. It would weaken them and then destroy them, just as Creation had weakened and destroyed the Fair Folk.
After a century of fighting, Creation at last reached an uneasy truce. The Deathlords and Yozi were driven back to their native planes. Some died, and others rose in their place, among them the Deathlord Coffin-Watching Hawk, a former captain in the army of the First and Forsaken Lion. Governance changed; although most people in positions of power were still Dragon-Blooded and Dragon-Bloods were still considered high nobility, the Empire was well and truly splintered into a confederation of allied states. Exalts rejoined society--after fighting by the side of humanity for a hundred years, they could hardly be shut out again--but Beastmen found themselves exploited or left on the fringes. They built their own nations--Zou and Fishmen Island being the most prominent--and tried to make their way, with varying success.
In the early peacetime years, humanity devoted itself to exploring and rediscovering the world anew. The Reshaping had left odd traces behind, especially around the Seams of the World, and seafaring technology had to scramble to keep up. Even now, decades after the turning of the Third Age, much of the world remains unmapped and unexplained.
Much of what humanity does know about the seas can be attributed to the activities of the Lunar Gol D. Roger and his crew, the first people to sail the length of the oceanic World Seam, also referred to as the Grand Line. Their adventures captured the imagination of the world, and almost single-handedly ensured that the Third Age would be a seafaring one. Gol D. Roger was eventually executed by the Allied World Government for piracy, but his cultural fingerprints--and the legends of his hidden treasure--remain.
In time, the spirits of those who had died during the Reshaping and the Lost Century War began to be reborn into the world, and it is here that our story truly begins...
hello I admit I know Nothing about this au but just wanted to say that the fact that I tired to reblog the brook profile multiple times and my tumblr app crashed every time is very fitting I think jsjdbxjxbxjc (the art is very great!!!)
Brook is such an unknown quantity that he crashed your app.
Hello! I found this AU blog recently and it happens to exist in my exact venn diagram of interests, so I hope you don't mind this out of the blue ask? If it's all right, do you have a list somewhere of what Exalt Types everyone is? And is anyone planned to use one of the new types from 3E? (Like Liminals, Getimians, Umbrals, Hearteaters, Dream-Souled, etc.) OH and Final Question am I correct in assuming Carrot is a Full Moon Lunar?
1. Yes, but it's not complete (it hardly could be, since One Piece has a gigantic cast) 2. No--just Dragon Bloods, Solars, Lunars, Sidereals, Abyssals, Infernals, Alchemicals, and half-castes 3. Yes, well-spotted Thanks for this great message!! I haven't abandoned this blog--more is coming!
“Straw Hat” Monkey D. Luffy
Solar Exalted
Eclipse Caste
In the long-gone First Age, the Solar Exalted were the rulers of the world, divinely endowed by the Unconquered Sun with qualities of leadership. Slowly, they became corrupt, and were overthrown. In the Imperial Age, their reincarnations were hunted as demons. Now, in the Great Pirate Era, they are no longer considered Anathema, but most of them still lurk at the fringes of the Dragon-Blood-controlled World Government, leaders with no social role but truly glorious potential. Whatever this Age will become, it seems inevitable that the Solars will once again play leading roles.
Eclipse Caste Solars are diplomats and leaders-by-agreement. Possessed of the power to magically seal contracts, Eclipse Castes represent the true power in a promise. Even without their seal, their word is still their bond, and their will to see it through is as strong as adamant.
Eclipse Castes are associated with the element of air, the central direction, and the liminal season of Calibration.
Other cast members: Zoro - Nami - Vivi - Chopper - Robin - Franky - Brook
“Candy-Lover” Dr. Tony-Tony Chopper
Lunar Exalted
No Moon Caste
Just as the Dragon-Bloods draw their Aspects from the natural elements and the Solars draw their Castes from types of leadership, the Lunars draw their Castes from the three sides of sapient experience: the body, the mind, and societal interaction.
No Moon Lunars are the Lunars of the mind. They are lorekeepers, healers, and judges, relying on their wits and their memories to survive in a harsh world. No Moons often find themselves as advisors to their pack leaders, if not leaders themselves. During the harsh Imperial Age, it was the No Moons who kept Lunar culture and society from disappearing completely.
No Moon Lunars are associated with winter, precipitation, sorcery, and the color blue.
Other cast members: Luffy - Zoro - Nami - Vivi - Robin - Franky - Brook
“Cat Burglar” Nami
Infernal Exalted
Contracted to the Ebon Dragon
Even though it has been an Age since their creation, the Infernal Exalted remain shadowed in mystery. Instead of being divided into orderly Castes or Aspects like their fellows, Infernals are reckoned by the archdemon to whom they have sold their soul. Some Infernals were in dire straits indeed when they signed their contracts, but all have chosen their fate knowingly and of their own will.
The Ebon Dragon, also known as the Shadow of All Things, is the archdemon of manipulation, lies, flattery, seduction, and betrayal. His colors are black and green.
Other cast members: Luffy - Zoro - Vivi - Chopper - Robin - Franky - Brook
the tale of demon cutter and the rampant swan, part four
When the ancient Solars wed their Lunar mates, their souls and Exaltations were linked by oaths thought unbreakable. Many of the stolen two hundred Solars were such wedded souls, and the essences of their matrimony were not spared the corrupted touch of their new masters.
Although the soul-ties of the Abyssals were not destroyed, the death-energy of their maimed Exaltations spread into their counterparts like rot creeping through a grafted tree. The ties of the Infernals were outright severed. In either case, the Exaltations of their Lunar mates were profoundly affected.
The Empress had long decreed that all emergent Lunars should be killed, but with her gone the Dragon-Bloods could barely manage their own affairs, let alone ride on the hunt chasing rumors of Anathema. So it came to pass that the Lunars began to be reborn into the world in earnest, and the mates of the unfortunate two hundred were among them.
Most of what came to be known as the “widowed Lunars” bore no sign of their partners’ fates other than a subtle, nagging sense of loss. Many others lived their days normally but spent their nights tormented by visions of the peat-dust Underworld or the burning plains of Hell. A few became little more than animals, their humanity torn away by the knives of the Yozi.
Others were driven mad....
The herbalist of Little Bend lived in a whitewashed daub hut on the east edge of the river. He kept a goat, a hutch of chickens, and a garden of plants both mundane and bizarre. Sometimes he would hunt for game in the hills, or fish, or run a trap-line.
Copper meant nothing to the herbalist, nor did silver, gold, or jade. He refused to take coin for his services, asking in payment only such goods as he could not grow or hunt himself. He never set foot in the market or showed himself at harvest festivals. Unless a patient was too sick to travel to him, the herbalist never entered the town at all.
Apart from his hands and face, which he kept scrupulously clean, the man was covered in dirt and grime. His simple clothes hung in tatters from his wiry frame, and he wore his matted, ashen hair down to his hips. He kept his beard cut close to his face by hacking at it with a fish-boning knife. Around each of his limbs, a mass of trinkets and talismans clattered.
His name, although nobody in Little Bend knew it, was Mourning Dove. To the villagers, he was simply “the madman.”
The people of Little Bend meant him no harm by this; he was, after all, quite mad, although whether his madness had resulted from his isolation or driven him to it nobody could say for certain. His skills and kindness were not in doubt, and nobody in Little Bend felt inclined to shun a perfectly good healer just because he muttered to himself and looked up at odd angles through unblinking pale eyes. Little Bend was a practical town, with practical people and a habit of accepting things as they were.
So it was that for four generations the people of Little Bend sent each other to “the madman” for their ills and pains. Four generations of farmers called “the madman” when their cows miscarried or their vegetables blighted. Four generations of daughters were brought to “the madman” for acne cures or easing painful menses, and returned as grown women for surefire ways to get pregnant--or to not get pregnant. Four generations of townsfolk passed their years from colic to arthritis, and through it all “the madman” remained, pale and unchanging as a limestone cliff.
And if the herbalist never seemed to age, well, who could tell under that beard? If there were traces of silver on his skin, or if the feathers in his hair seemed rooted there, those were surely just the affectations of an eccentric man. If someone happened to suggest to the madman that he go hunting whenever an Immaculate monk was due to come to town, that was simply a matter of not wishing to waste the monk’s time on proving what all villagers agreed was true: that there were no Anathema in Little Bend.
There would come times, now and then, when one of the young lads or maidens visiting the madman might notice the structure of his face under the beard, or the delicacy of his wrists, or the raspy music of his voice. There would come other times when a widow or widower might see the ageless compassion in his eyes, and wonder what it would be like to warm themselves beneath it. There would come times that a visiting dowager or bachelor might offer the madman a position on their household staff and at their side. But the madman did not care for any suitor’s charm, or wealth, or wisdom. He rejected each and every one, and when he did he always spoke the same words:
“I am a married man. My wife has forsaken me, but I am her husband and always will be.”
He refused to say any more on the matter. Nobody knew who his wife had been, or where she had gone, or whether or not she had ever existed. The madman kept his own counsel, and that was the way it would always be.
---
The herbalist of Little Bend had lived in the whitewashed daub hut at the edge of the river for nearly eighty years when the Corpses’ Winter came. From seemingly nowhere, the armies of the dead streamed over the lands of Man, and beside them the half-dead--the Grave Anathema and their masters. Anathema clashed with Anathema, and human with human, and the corpses of the fallen were conscripted to kill their own sisters and brothers. Most of the surviving population fled for the more defensible cities, and the people of Little Bend eventually decided to join them.
On the day of the evacuation, each person took what they could cart or carry, and the rest was set ablaze to spite the dead. Many families asked the herbalist to accompany them, but he busied himself preparing medicines and making the sick ready for transport, and gave no answer. Still, the people refused to venture forth until he joined them on the road. Eventually, he came, with his goat beside him and the rest of his medicines in its saddlebags.
Whether it was sheer bad luck or the dead had seen the smoke of the fields, no one could say for sure, but the villagers had hardly traveled an hour when they came upon a small party of undead lead by what was unmistakably a Grave Anathema. When the pallid and skeletal face of the Grave Anathema turned to regard the villagers there was nearly a stampede, but a silver light washed over them and turned their panic to a thinking fear.
It was the herbalist, radiant as the moon, covered with gleaming silver spider-lines. He was weeping, but his shoulders were squared and his eyes were steely. “My friends,” he called, voice clear and loud as the rain. “Please, make haste. Take my goat and my medicines with you and don’t look back.”
Most of the people quickly turned to go, but a few lingered, trying to convince the madman to just this once do what was sensible. He shook them off with a sad smile. “I cannot go,” he said, gesturing to the Grave Anathema.
The Grave Anathema was a sexless, withered thing, wearing a rotten lion skin over the screaming black armor of the powerful dead. Its breastplate was sealed over its chest, and its mouth was clamped shut by an iron muzzle. It made no sound and showed no expression. But for its moving eyes, it was perfectly still.
The herbalist looked at it like it was the most beautiful thing in the world. He walked towards it with his arms outstretched, back straight, smiling. “Run!” he said again, over his shoulder. “Hurry!”
But the few still there would not go. “Why?” they said. “Why will you not try to flee with us?”
“Because,” he said, “I am a married man. My wife has come for me. I am her husband and always will be.”
The herbalist and the Grave Anathema lunged at the same moment and clashed in a black-and-silver bonfire of Essence. The remaining few broke into a run, suddenly overcome by a terror unlike any they had ever felt before. By the time they regained their wits, they were too far away to see or hear anything of the fight.
That night, those who had seen the fight all dreamed of a tiger and a dove tearing each other apart. None spoke of their dream, and none considered what it might mean. The people of Little Bend were practical people, and they held in their hearts a practical and quiet grief.
“Pirate Hunter” Roronoa Zoro
Abyssal Exalted
Dusk Caste
The Abyssals are modified--some would say perverted--Solar Exalted. While the Solars embody aspects of leadership, the Abyssals have (theoretically) been broken to serve at the heel of the Deathlords, and as such embody aspects of servitude. Known for their straightforward natures and extraordinary talent for bloodshed, Dusk Caste Abyssals were created to serve as field commanders and weapons of mass destruction. Not all Dusk Castes are malevolent, but all are willing to get their hands and blades dirty in the service of what they believe.
Dusk Caste Abyssals are associated with the full moon, the season of spring, and the ashes of the dead.
Other cast members: Luffy - Nami - Vivi - Chopper - Robin - Franky - Brook
“Devil Child” Nico Robin
Sidereal Exalted
Chosen of the Maiden of Secrets
Those chosen by the Maiden of Secrets are the guardians and explorers of knowledge. In more orderly times, they were the librarians and spies of Heaven. In today’s bizarre Age, the Sidereals of Secrets must confront the radically reshaped nature of Creation, a chaotic and factionalized Heaven, and the most tantalizing mystery of all– the Void Century.
Her Royal Highness Vivi Nefertari
Dragon-Blooded Exalted
Water Aspect
Water-Aspected Dragon-Bloods are those given a connection to water, and, through it, the liquid state of matter. Although they can seem mercurial and flighty, Water Aspects are in reality sincere and convicted–perhaps too much so. Whether they choose to flow around obstacles or batter them down, nothing can keep a Water Aspect from their heart’s goal.
Water Aspects are associated with the color black and the western direction.
1. Abyssal Exalted, standing as they do on the threshold between life and death, are not wholly dead and still evince some biological processes, including sweating;
2. Lunar Exalted, due to their connection with nonhuman animals, are blessed by the Pale Lady with more acute senses, especially smell;
3. Reapplying deodorant and sticking one’s head in the rain barrel cannot be considered equivalent to bathing from either a moral or a practical standpoint;
We, the Lunars serving under Straw Hat Luffy and the representatives of the Silver Pact among the crew of this vessel, do implore, beseech, and order the Abyssal Exalted known as “’Pirate Hunter’ Roronoa Zoro” or “the Demon of the East Blue” to wash his stank zombie ass a bare minimum of twice a week under threat of barred access to the alcohol supplies and other punishments and sanctions as we see fit, including but not limited to:
Ass-kicking;
Physically forcing him to bathe;
Confinement to a dinghy towed behind the main vessel;
Killing him and using his bleached and defaced skull to mark the boundaries of our territory no we won’t that’s horrible!
Crying, like, a whole lot;
Cancellation of Barbecue Sunday;
effective immediately upon posting of this notice and into perpetuity.
