[A 2e Exalted Pitch]

We live in the most glorious of times. Heaven is filled with the most peaceful tranquility, the earth is ordered and harmonious. Even the hells are subdued and silent!

All of this and more we owe our thanks and praise - to the Solar Exalted!

Gladly do we obey them, mindful do we heed them. Heroes of the Primordial War, of the Aftershock Conflict, invincible heroes of the dawn without flaw!

In a mighty deliberative of equals do they wisely rule Creation, and guide us all to higher heights of splendor. In both metaphor and literal truth is the era golden!

Man knows naught of want and privation. He lives in peace and prosperity. The mortal lives to the ripe old age of tenscore years, educated to realize the potential of her talent. The masses grow to maturity, marry, and live long and fulfilling lives underneath the guidance of the sun's chosen!

What miracles will tomorrow bring..?

It's not the end of the world. But you can see it from here.

The Solar Exalted are wise. The Solar Exalted are powerful. The Solar Exalted rule.

The Solar Exalted answer to no one.

The whims of millennia-old god-kings and queens decide the fate of billions, too alienated from their mortal lives to remember what it was like to be human. At the same time, they are haunted by their mortality, knowing that no matter how brilliant or beautiful they may become, they will never escape death.

How can you comfort someone who has seen primordials fall? Who has seen time made and unmade? Who has seen hundreds of generations of mankind rise and fall back into dust?

You are a new face amongst the ancients. Perhaps you are a Solar yourself, with the weighty expectations of your brethren to live up to. Or a Lunar, whose entire body to be seemingly has no place in such an ordered world. Perhaps you are a Sidereal, overworked, unappreciated, ignored. Or you are one of many Dragonblooded - teeming in such masses that your marvels are but ordinary.

In the shadow of the accomplishments of your predecessors, does anything you do really matter?

Such is the character of the age, this ennui that has seeped into all levels of society. A maniac frenzy, a collective insanity, that frays the edges of fate and troubles the minds of the Viziers. There were times where the whole of Creation seemed in danger from foes within and without, and the Exalted prevail. Why, then, was peace fraying the host apart?

The Fivescore Fellowship, as their detractors call them, will convene at Calibration during the conjunction of the heavenly spheres. Their purpose is to scry onto the future, to peer into the haze of uncertainty and direct the Exalted Host onto a thoughtful path.

Its announcement rings unto deaf ears. Such scryings had been done before, in smaller convocations. Little of consequence had ever come of them. Little would come from this one.

The future, it seems, holds no surprises.