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- Yazhn Ravhi, the Hierophant
Libra
Information gleaned from the Alethic rite
by Salme · Jun 20, 2026 · view history →
This might not be the best way to organize this information, but I thought it would be good to start it. A couple notes:
Luĉja had taken damage when Libra was cast upon them. Aurelius, Awoken, and I had not. That’s why I think the Glory gives their stats but not ours.
Libra was cast upon myself twice, and the information was the same both times. I was not compelled to answer either time.
This is different from the first time we saw Libra, when the Omniclast cast it upon Aurelius. I’ll add that memory.
For definitions of ‘tou whatever’ titles, see this library folio, A Running Glossary of Terms, and this Linkpearl strand on Ancient Names.
: “There are questions only a Rite can answer, truths only the Rite can speak. The Wolf understands this.” He nods, levelly, at him. “I don’t want to change your mind. I don’t want… ANY of you… to do a SINGLE thing which is not done of your own volition. And so. AND SO!” He claws at the air; bright purple fire consumes his hands. “I would take your measure! I’d like to know what weird bullshit he and I are both gonna be dealing with, here!”
raises a hand above his head and snaps his fingers. A moment later white gnosis burst into existence around Wolf, slowly forming pulsating runes that come to rest on his robes.
Aurelius then leans his head back and lets out a long, slow breath, which is visible to everyone, like breath in the coldest of winter. Except the breath is golden, matching the glow in his eyes. “Third question: I figured out how you did that.” And a new song burst into existance, drowning out the one currently playing.
: “AHAHAHAHAH, FUCK YES. I LIKE YOU.”
laughs, and laughs, more and more madly. “Ahahahhaha, holy shit, this is going to be amazing. Okay. Okay, holy fuck, there’s so many options, here but I think….”
takes a deep breath, violet light swirling around him, deeper and deeper and clearer. He points a finger at Aurelius.
ꙮ You see something behind him. Through him. Your mind can’t attach words to it. Ichor dripping off a fragmentary glimpse of a gleaming claw, a light of a colour that does not naturally exist, a thousand staring eyes. The light of it sears SOMETHING into you, some sudden, intense awareness of a truth that burns underlying creation.
: “Tell me the truth!” [Alethic Rite: Libra, targeting Aurelius]
ꙮ Every instance of the [redacted] term was, and has always been, an instance of “Alethic”.
: “Which one…? About what…?”
: “Player’s choice?”
: “It is your choice. It is, always, eternally, as long as my light shines into creation, your choice.” His voice crackles with power.
: “Time for some minor league soft ball shit here then: The Hunter’s name is actually Annarr, not Aurelius.”
ꙮ That is a truth and it satisfies the conditions of the Rite!
stares at him, though. Stares at him like he picked up something else other than just that, and his eyebrows go up into his hair very briefly, and he laughs, and laughs, and laughs, and he balls one claw up into a fist.
Libra when cast on our party members. (Wolf and Archie, if you’d be willing to be experimented upon, I’d appreciate it)
Luĉja tou Teratourgeion, firstborn child of the Mother of Monsters. Created in her love and her desperation to communicate with the world she knows she will slaughter; radiant with their own love for the Beast and everyone on it. Stress 15/17, Defence 2/10. Luĉja cannot be unmade outside of the Deepforge in which they were made. And, supervening Luĉja, there is Another, obscuring himself even to my gaze. One like Jorule, the Angel of Darkness, and Melpomene, the Angel of Tragedy. I do not know his name. But he, too, loves you, and wants you to live.
Salme tou Alsos, Sword-Saint, gnosis-weaver, root-binder. She has stood in the light of the Duelist’s Mask itself, and its light settled over her like a lace blanket. Beloved synomote of Aurelius and another, whom I shall not identify. Wings of fire curl around her shoulders; flowers bloom in her footsteps, even if you can’t see them; Melpomene, the Angel of Tragedy, walks with her now, wherever she goes. She carried alone the secret of Almachadta’s death and rebirth, for so long; she is alone no longer.
??? tou Philaisia, the Awoken Prince. He prefers, at the moment, to go by “Awoken”, and I intend to respect this preference. As is his tradition, any name he may have had in the past evaporated in light, and he is free to choose a new one, or none at all. He awoke in the Sanctuary remembering only a song, and the indelible fact that he was truly loved, and he loves joyously in turn.
Aurelius tou Asilos, new-formed gestalt, born of the empty space between Annarr who was the Hunter, and Jorule who has come from afar, upon that gap’s observation. Jorule is still present - Annarr is not, although his memories remain. A brilliant fiendsmith in both lives, and underestimated at the underestimator’s mortal peril. He carried the secret the Scorpion-Queen told him, that he and everyone else were ‘merely’ characters in someone else’s story; he no longer carries that secret alone.
Jae Carver, the Scorpion Queen of the Beast, the self-proclaimed Hero. This body is at least 4,000 years old - there have been others. Also known as Stings-and-Kills, the Angel of Hope, lashed to the world with chains of utter, unshakable determination. This is her story, and she shall not falter!