Comics by Shaenon II

To give the more detailed version, he spent most of his life looking after a patch of land owned by a noble family, keeping it ordered and in good condition for when they would come to stay a while. Literally its steward. It was a solitary but good life, and he liked seeing the family when they returned.
He was suspicious when some of their servants came 'ahead of time'. but they had a note with the masters seal...
And they were charismatic. But things started to feel... wrong. He knew the area, after all. And the sudden amount of death hedging up here and there was more then worrying. So he went to investigate- and discovered the servants (lead by what may have been a abyssal) were planning to wait for the families return, and use them as sacrifices... or worse.
He tried to fight- but that went... poorly. And he was thrown down a ravine.
A ravine he knew opened into the basement of the house... if he could just *get* there, and could just get the stone *door* open.
He hammered with all his might on the door, trying to pop it off its hinges- snap a stone out of the wall, something- already exhausted, and in pain... and a silvery white hand curled around hsi fist as he took a last swing.
Which is where it bears mentioning that an Echidna, besides being a spiky egg laying mammal relative of the platypus, has enormously powerful digging *claws* designed to rip termite mounds to shreds.
The wall became gravel. Needless to say, he found the trecherous servants and dealt with them... I'm not totaly sure what happens next. partially since no matter what it'll be a bit sad.
If he was REALLY lucky he could manage to look human again when the family returns, to tender his resignation in person... but hes he kind of person where he might try to *stay*.
I mean, 'and then they had to flee' is sort of a basic exalted story... But if he was so loyal. And then the conflict comes from him being dangerous by wont of being Castless, and not knowing it...
Let alone probably being fair uncertain if hes anathemia or not.
In the end he just kind of... put his affairs in order, helped hire a new caretaker, fixed that wall, and set out like that.
In its own way, its even sadder...

Really, it was already over. The chances, at this point, were low enough to be negligible. He wondered what the exact numbers were- not that he'd be able to find a verifiable source for the results. The second breaths were written down, of course. Everything was, eventually. It was probably one of those things that went political once you tried to look at the rates of other dynast houses, though.

Perhaps that was something he could work on. Might be easier if it was a matter for a... for.

It hurt a little to think the word. Probably not as much as others would have thought. There was a sort of guilt to it- it was perfectly normal. There were far more mortals then exalts in probably all but the very strongest linages. And even then.

Peri forced himself to stand up, and get dressed properly.

This would have been so much easier if they;d given up already.
But he was supposed to be a natural. He wasn;t sure, anymore, that he understood the logic there. He was a foul tempered intellectual with a penchant for hitting people with sticks. Alright, he could see where he neatly lined up with the cliche. But cliches, like anecdotes, did not count as hard data. What did was knowing that there were plenty of good natured dragon blooded... and plenty of ones tht ere idiots, or needed years of study to be able to hit the broad side of the barn. Or were cunning, or charming, or believed that each battle scar wold someday become a scale when they reincarnated into a dragon, or had all the political sense of a baby *chicken*.

...Not that he was thinking of anyone *specific*, of course.

There wasn;t a set formula for who exalted or not. It wasn't the most worthy, or the smartest- or no matter what some said the most entitled, or arrogant. Some did. Most didn't. Out of the entire population, 20% had a chance of exalting. 2-5% did. That was numbers. That was clean. Impersonal. No fault or sin had barred you from it. Just linage and... luck.

He could live with just being unlucky. You could work with the odds you knew, even if they were slanted against you. Alright, so other people wouldn;t think of it that way. They would forever believe, in their tiny little heads, that he had failed some unwritten spiritual *test* that proved, somehow, that his arrogance was unwarranted.

As far as he was concerned, they could think what they damned well wanted. The sun had risen on him the same as it had yesterday, and he would be damned as an anathemas before he goddamned well moped about his lot- and he would sit in a *forge* before he let *those* bastards bother him.

The mountains summit, it seemed, would never beckon him.

He dressed efficiently- bright colors on sturdy cloth, any material wreckable by a little wear and tear had no place in his wardrobe. He made few concessions to fashion, as he rarely tended to notice what new bit of frippery was supposed to be worn. Serviceable boots, arm guards, and clothing that wouldn;t catch on much or bind anywhere had served his ancestors, after all.

Now, that was a thought. You heard bout the warriors, and commanders. The soldiers and the sorcerers. But even then, there had to be some poor hardworking sod making sure the armors got polished and the libraries dusted. There weren't any statues or parades for being sure the bloody crops came in.

And he was finding, as he stepped out of his rooms, that he didn;t mind that at all. He was fine with no statues or monuments, or marks in the history books... but by god, lets see if he couldn;t make every bookkeeper from here to the *coast* fear the name of Peri the Patrician.

Somehow I'm seeing the Echidna lunar's solar companion being a young brash idiot, and he has to keep the solar out of trouble? No, that's impossible. Help get them out of trouble that they're constantly getting in to. And the lunar being more of an older brother/uncle type figure.