Gifts of the Simalcrum

This was, all told, a supreme disappointment. It was like being offered a burger only to discover that, when you’d bitten into it, it was made of turkey instead of beef. You might like turkey. In fact, had you been expecting it, the turkey could have been very enjoyable. However, you were not and therefore the whole thing is filled with bewilderment and disappointment.

Lyrae the Ascended One, attended by the four heads of the four Great Houses, strode through the gathering, increasingly desperate. Where were the others? These were all children! She had been called by stars! But as the words of the Guardian washed over her, she realized the truth. The stars were still silent. It had been this...thing that had sent out the call. They had been horribly, hilariously wrong.

She turned to the four with her, sensing their uncertainty just as they sensed her distress. It is not an easy thing to see your leader so shaken, much less your goddess. She sighed and fingered the heavy, metal mask that covered her upper face, the sign of her office. Gilded robes emblazoned with holy and arcane symbology draped across her form, but left her tail free and emphasized a few other eye-catching least to the Lyraen viewpoint.

Well, not all of them were nervous. Ool Vulk was staring at the Grymlans, particularly Jeejee, and their long, bushy tails. Tra Gutri split his attention between Lyrae and anyone who wandered too close, his hand never far from the ceremonial weapons his house always favored. Tur Oblom and Ayl Lan, however, were just concerned, though for their own reason. Ayl was devoted to Lyrae first and foremost, Tur concerned about some of their neighbors and the power they demonstrated.

“Spread out,” the Ascended One orders, “I will speak with this Guardian. You find our neighbors and...please try to make a good first impression.”

Ayl salutes with the enthusiasm of a fanatic. “By your order, Ascended One!”

And so...the delegation splits up.


Lyrae herself has business only with Guardian. She enters one of the private rooms and seats herself on the provided chair. Once there, she reaches up and undoes the clasps which hold her mask to her face. Behind it is bleach-white fur and golden eyes that shimmer slightly. She looks to Guardian with solemn purpose and has but a single question.

“Am I alone? Are there others of my kind in the universe? Not the children of the stars, but the spirits of them?””

...Or maybe several questions.

The other four leaders will approach various other nations in PM chat.