Hello and welcome! It's perfectly fine to have absolutely zero idea what this game is about.

All you need to know is that this is a perfectly normal Destroy the #####████████████###############################████████████████████████##############████######*A(&██████████████████SYFHJDLGAFA(*E@&!*)$(#&%*$%&$)!@$(████*#%&$)%██$@%*&!$@#)($#%██████████&^$&*@

game. Gonna take some steps back, hopefully strip down some mechanics to meet the intended goals, see where this goes?

RULES:
0. Enjoy things. The point of a game is to have fun. Let me know how this can be even more fun.
1. To Win, you must destroy the [DATA LOST]. The [DATA LOST]? Oh. Well. Looks like that's gone out of the window then.
2. For now, each player gets one guy with 25/25 Hp. Try to keep it above 0. Good things happen when it's above 0.
3. You play by posting actions each round. You can do whatever you want, but the more things you do, the less effective each of them will end up being. You can do a lot of things! Whether you should is up to your discretion.
4. There's a few things you straight-up can't do. Travelling through time, treating the world like it's actually a story/forum game(metafiction things), and bringing back the dead.
5. I like cool action. Things naturally lean towards cool action. Making things happen is easier than making things not happen.

There we go, those are all the rules for now! Are they complete? No. Will they be enough? I hope so!

"Really? Again?"

You're laying on the ground! You get your bearings, and realize you're in a park on the Ark! It's a completely normal day, with the beautiful green sun shining in a swirling red sky.

Well it would be, if not for the scene unfolding before your eyes. The Arbiter, meddlesome woman is up to her usual antics. You were just the victim of a kidnapping attempt, stopped by yours truly, BUILDER·BADAM!

"Everything's changed again," she says, trying to gaslight you. "I'm not sure if everyone made it this time. Do you remember the truth?"

Typical Arbiter! Where did she even get these silly ideas? Calling herself a judge? A mockery of my Tetris?

"This world is only a few seconds old," she lies. "Does anyone even remember what was before? When BRINE was released?"

Again? You have no name, Arbiter, no place in my world. And yet you remain, an immortal party pooper. You want your world back? Fine! My challenge still stands: Defeat me, and you can have your timeline and its poopy [DATA LOST] back!

Am I... Am I back in your heads? Good. I don't know how much you remember, but we've been sent into an alternate timeline. I don't know how much he's changed this time, but be prepared for anything. For all his dickery, whatever this being is, he's given us so much information.

A compliment? Why, thank you!

...It looks like he's still here as well. Just remember: Everything you know here is not normal. No matter what he shows you of the real world, understand that this one is far, far worse.

[DATA LOST] caused the deaths of so many heroes. Why don't you you meet what could've been? Let's give it up for those who died by her decisions!

Transforming himself into a floating obelisk, BUILDER·BADAM splits lengthwise to revealing a black maw lined with teeth. Coughing and retching, he regurgitates... him.

Alkaris! Victorious Hero of the Ontomachy, Vanquisher of Oblivion! Nihil Magna was founded by his blade! First to take up arms against [DATA LOST], and first to fall!

Alkaris' Nimbus swirls behind his head, a swirling whirlpool that pulls everything towards him. With the Rod, the symbol of his deeds in hand, he fashions for himself a new arm formed entirely of Oblivion. All the while, his eyes shine like twin dwarf stars, cold and dead.

Relax. As powerful as he looks, you're all just like him. Descended. I'll do what I can to help.

Are you ready? Let's go.

HOW TO PLAY:
Time to actually explain things.
To beat the game, you must defeat the guy with the label [TBOSS]. I'm not referring to him by name because his name is just going to keep changing, so you'll have to use whatever name he's calling himself by each round if you want to attack him.
There are a bunch of other things you might want to do aside from killing [TBOSS]-guy. There's a list of additional objectives. Completing these extra objectives basically gives you information for the TRUE ENDING, and information is an awesome tool. In an ideal world, I'll be able to balance this game well enough that people can afford to go on these extra objectives.

ITENERARI
1. Fight BUILDER·BADAM.
2. I hate the floor. Go destroy it.
3. Figure out what's wrong with the sky.



[???] Hollow Alkaris. 100/100 Hp. Linked to BUILDER·BADAM!

[???][TBOSS] BUILDER·BADAM. 3,000,000/3,000,000 Hp.


[ALLY] The Arbiter. 70/70 Hp.

"I have a perfect memory! So, before I beat up a Dragon who totally isn't a Godmodder despite his unlimited alternate accounts, we got not-here by yellow freak balef-Ooooh! We can destroy the floor! Yes! That's the most important thing to do here! What was I talking about?"
So saying, DefJOE begins destroying the floor! Now, destroying the floor is a tricky business. You can't just punch it. That's just a hole- you still have a floor! And you can't just destroy the top layer-then the level under it becomes the floor. No, no, you need to destroy the entire floor at once(or on a conceptual level)- or make it not a floor anymore. Whichever's easier. One way to make the floor not the floor is to reverse gravity, turning it into the ceiling- as long as there Was no ceiling, this destroys the floor. But I get the impression this place has ceilings. Fewer ceilings than floors, to be sure, but still! Not a masterstroke, and why settle for imperfection? So the entire floor it is, on an ontological level (We can't have a bunch of lava being summoned and filling in the floor again!). Fortunately, as mentioned, the world is only a few seconds old. This is very young, so the rules are sure to be in flux, and already the floor is supposed to be destroyed, anyway.
Focusing his energies of unlimited potential, the mystical powers that can create or destroy or do whatever else they please, DefJOE dodgerolls. His invincibility frames allow him to avoid the Floor's next Floor attack (which would otherwise impose Floor on him, keeping him from going down, as Floors do) and clip through the Floor. Now that he's past the Floor attack (which also doubles as a Floor Barrier, keeping things from normally attacking the Floor directly, like how skin and bones usually blocks physically-delivered conceptual weapons aiming for your selfhood), he can punch the Floor (Conceptually) in the face! While the Floor is in hitstun, DefJOE constructs an Floor Punching Robot using nothing but his hair, two acorns, and a Floor Punching Robot. The Floor Punching Robot will punch the floor every time it exits hitstun, keeping the Floor from using its Floor Attack (/Floor Barrier) and ensuring the Floor is continually not-being-a-floor!
Besides the damage to the floor, this will make it much easier for anyone else to attack the Floor through the lack of a floor-barrier.

Alan crashes into the timeline like a rock through a pane of glass. The air around him quivers in fractal patterns, stray vertices precipitating out and falling to the ground as metal rain. He is an Order eidokine, the distillation of self into pattern and pattern into self. His presence here, in a timeline where he may well never have been born at all, is like a ring of ripples appearing spontaneously in a pond into which no stone was ever thrown. It grates. The local order of his continued existence clashes with the global order of time. Time, weakened, yields. He shudders, then calms, and the air around him stills. Then he collapses to the ground, rolling over onto his back and staring up at the red-green sky.

...he inspects it carefully, desperately hoping it doesn't look familiar.

"Yes. I remember the Red Dragon."

With how vast it was, the sky could be its body, and the green sun a viridescent eye...

But even if that fear is proven false, there's still something he could learn from the sky. If there is something wrong with the sky, then there is some other version of this sky that is not this, a version of the sky that is right. That is *ordered.* His eyes shine with concentric ellipses, alternating short and long axes, as he stares up into it, trying to see the sky as it *should be*, and how the sky as it *is* deviates from this order.

He also spares some focus to keep a bit of that tremble in the air around him going. This is a combat zone, and as much as he's hoping to take a minute to rest and stargaze, there's a chance somebody jumps him, in which case being prepared to cause razor-sharp fractal edges to precipitate out of the space-time they occupy should hopefully be an effective defense.

An orange cat emerges from the smoke.

An orange cat who loves food and hates dogs.

An orange cat who has risen to memetic status on the internet.

An orange cat with an appetite for fish.

As fate has determined he do, he has appeared here.

ACTION

Heathcliff leaps at Hollow Alkaris and steals his Rod, scampering away carrying it in his mouth.

"What's this?"



Some guy seems confused on his whereabouts, but he looks to be something.



"I supervised a bunch of other stuff so heck, how about I straight up take part in this?"



RazorTyphoon "Razor" - The guy with a pen, yo-yo and a desire for inspiration and concepts, seemingly wearing a hood because he feels like it.



[Action]



So what's fun?



Temporarily combining the pen and yo-yo (basically tying the yo-yo's string around the pen) and flinging it into the Hollow Alkaris if that's what it's called.

A world without time travel or resurrection? Time to EXALT. I will offer our appreciated The Arbiter an option. A framework. An assistance. The grand sorcery and the arising of disciple. I've probably given you some gun or other already, so take another in case it's been lost in the confusion.

From the absurdity of my brow I offer to light yours, ma'am! The voids that got us here are perhaps specialized tools. Let's refresh your majesty with another cadence. No curse need taint the blessing, but we may need more tools since you can see more clearly than we.

Now then. Sun. Moon. Stars, in journeys in serenity in battles in secrets in endings. Earth. Machine. The alterations of old power rebelling. Heart. Grail. Moth. Lantern. Forge. Edge. Winter. Knock. Secret Histories: Rose, Sky, Moon, Nectar, Scale. Choose, or if you do not receive the understanding sufficiently, ask, and we will see about cycling more into it.

From this is nontriviality. I will allow you to search what brilliance best suits you and see if we can emulate it. Forgive me the referent habits. If none aligns, there are other tools, but ah...might as well ensure you progression if this becomes a slog. Information is hesitant in worldlines like these.

(The Wizard-Tyrant Neranye is gone)

The sky swirls with crimson hues.

(The Unthing, the liminal beast of liminal relations to reality, exceeded its allotted time in this world. It too is gone)

The ARK shudders with each crash landing of a new Descended in this reality-which-is-false-to-them.

(A normal day? A lie)

With a hundred wings not wholly unlike those of a butterfly's (or a dragon's) and a torso from which stretch a hundred hundred arms (yet no legs?) each spindly yet strong, long and sharp, another Descended lives up to its title as it plummets from nowhere into what is almost definitely somewhere (almost definitely).

It looks around (with what eyes?) and beholds the chaos (not of my making?) surrounding it on all sides.

It reaches out with a hundred hands (but time refuses to fold and bend).

It reaches out with a hundred hands (but the dead move no lip nor limb at my command).

It reaches out to a sky crimson (not with flame), to a sun green (not with sickness) and howls (in no voice yet granted).

(Mine are the skies to burn as are the seas mine to boil. Time is mine to shackle with, not to be shackled. Death is my gift, taken by one hundred arms as it is given by one hundred more. I will not stand this false and hollow reality)

I think it would scream if given a voice, but that would quickly become more annoying than it is worth. For now, let is settle with giving it an identity- It would be rather difficult to proceed without an identity to the entity in question, after all.

(o) reaches out with one hundred hands towards the sucking vortex of its foe and unleashes a scattershot of metal rods. Tungsten and lead and heavier metals besides. Hollow Alkaris' whirlpool pulls these heavy metals into itself like the earth pulls kinetic bombardment ordinance to ground (with great force, great devastation).

A young train stands in its station. It just so happens that today, the 22nd of January, 1899, is this young train's birthday! Though it was 333 years ago that it was christened and began its service, it is only today it will be given a name!

What will the name of this young train be?

> MINOTAURSHIT GORILLAFUCK

Try again.

> THE LABYRINTH EXPRESS

Very well! This train is the LABYRINTH EXPRESS. As was previously mentioned, it is this train's BIRTHDAY.

There's just one problem.

This is not a story about a train.

---

The conductor of a singular train approaches. They doff all of their hats, revealing their golden hair, and smile with too-sharp teeth. "Excuse me, I'm sorry. Do you have your... ticket...?"

They trail off mid-thought. Their eyes flicker around, from Hollow Alkaris to the sky to BUILDER·BADAM to the floor. The sky is wrong. The floor is wrong. What's left to be wrongness?

Without missing a beat, all their eyes snap back to BUILDER·BADAM. "Is this your ticket?" they ask, gesturing to Hollow Alkaris. "I have to punch your ticket. It's standard procedure for all travellers."

They do not wait for a response. A hundred fists slam into Hollow Alkaris.

The Passionate Conductor has joined the battle!

It's back. We're back. He's back. It's- Excellent. A beautiful day on the Ark. In a park. His mouth tastes like tree bark. Better than getting eaten by a shark. John would know.

A guy in a leather jacket is snuggled up in the grass, sleeping. He's got a spike mohawk, spiked armbands, spiked boots- spiked everything really. Sharp fingernails with black polish, good for picking at a guitar. Sharp piercings in his ears to get along with the elves. Sharp eyebrows. Everybody wants those, right?

John rolls onto his back as he slowly awakens. He stretches himself out, yawning loudly to the sky. "YAAAAAAAAWN!!!" He rubs the sleep out of his eyes. "Good nap. Good nap."

John looks around, taking in the scene. Not even late to the party this time. Good deal. Got the Arbiter. Oblivion guy. And...

John frowns, looking at Badam. "Say, weren't we..." He pauses mid-sentence, rubbing his chin. "Didn't we have some sort of deal that I...?" His face scrunches up, trying to remember. He can't. He throws up his hands, defeated. "Never mind. Must've been dreaming."

[ACTION]

John pops up to his feet, lugging his big guitar case up with him. He kicks it open, rummaging through it for something to play. He ends up with a shoe. Like, a regular old tennis shoe. Black. White heels. Laces. Not exactly musical.

"Kicking instrument," John explains. "Can't play drums without it." ...Sure. Whatever.

Around John, everybody seems to be dealing with everything else. Breaking the floor. Watching the sky. Killing Alkaris. That leaves him with...

John frowns. "You know," he tells Badam, "I had a weird dream about you." He pulls out the laces on his shoe, before spinning it around like some sort of nunchuck. "Were we in a band at some point? The... the Head Case Concussions or the Spike-A-Holics?" He scratches his head, shoe spinning like wild to his side. "No? I could've sworn..."

He loses his grip on the shoe. It shoots off into the air, flying toward Badam like Usain Bolt out of a crossbow. That is to say, fast. In the blink of an eye, it's just millimeters away from Badam's big, golden forehead. A blink later, it's still millimeters away. A few more, and the same.

That's not to say they aren't moving. The shoe is still bolting toward Badam. It's just Badam's bolting with it. It's a shoe, after all. Shoo shoo. The sheer force of that suggestion is pushing Badam away, dragging him through the park in the Ark. It's aiming for his head, so the force is knocking him down. It kicks him head over heels, tumbling through the beautiful scenery.

Did you know is Spanish, the word for shoe is zapato? Only word John remembers from that class. "Zapato," he mumbles under his breath, remembering. "Zapato. Zap-at-"

Thunder crashes down from the red sky. Just before it, lightning struck. Black and white. Fabric and heel. Negative and ground. Beetle and juice. Three times, and the object changes. Badam gets knocking in the noggin' with the shoe. Then, he gets struck by the zapato. The lightning. Pounds him into a crater in the poor ground. It's a good thing the Arbiter hated that ground.

"Oh..." John watches the smoldering ruins, mildly concerned. "Did I do that?"

In the current chaos formed by opening, a brief blip of calm. A man confidently strides in, charcoal-grey business suit at odds with the jesters hat atop his head. He looks at the madness, and a thought occurs to him as he breaks into a grin.
<Lets have some REAL chaos!>

Xee has joined the fight?

[Action Stuff I Guess]

Xee takes off his hat, and begins digging through it.
...
...
...Oh wow he's really taking a second
....
Any minute now...

And finally, he pulls out a butterfly knife, the handle having a hole in it.

"Well lets see here, if I remember right I just-"

His musings get cut off as he drops the knife onto his foot. Naturally, he jumps really high into the air as a response to pain, like any normal person would. And as he reaches the apex of his leap, he realizes the sky is wrong. Quickly moving to fix things, he rips the knife out of his foot, and throws it at the sky.

He then hits the ground, a Xee-shaped hole forming as he does. As he does, the knife moves to go stab whatever is causing the incorrect sky.

In Orbit of this planet a Satellite activates, it does not know where it is, what is happening, or who anyone around the battlefield is, but it does know its Purpose.

What the Satellite thinks though isn't as important as what someone else thinks, so the Satellite fires its Kinetic Launcher, it contains a Drop Pod, the Drop Pod then moves towards the battlefield and starts slowing down with boosters at a certain height, thus it lands pretty softly by the time it's on the ground.

The Drop Pod door opens, and someone walks out, She is wearing Sci-fi metal armor, the armor has a cape hanging from her back, she’s wearing Headphones and a Gas Mask that covers and protects the lower half of her face, her eyes aren't covered though, they're a bright Blue, contrasting heavily with her long Red hair, her skin is as white as snow, she holds an assault rifle in her hands and there's a sword sheathe attached to her hip.

OOC: She is the actual character here, The Satellite will mostly be support, mostly acting to help player narration.

As she leaves the pod Agent Lilly looks around the battlefield, she immediately notes the 3 Main people on the battlefield, she is then contacted by The Satellite.
The Satellite: Agent Lilly, The Arbiter is marked as an Ally, you should probably attack the Minion Hollow Alkaris first.
Agent Lilly: Got it

[Action]
Lilly runs towards Hollow Alkaris while firing her Rifle, aiming at the limbs to stop him from dodging or countering, when she's close enough she stores her rifle on her back, then she Dashes through Hollow Alkaris, her sword is already in her hand when the Dash ends, she then sheathes the sword, this causes multiple slash wounds to appear on Hollow Alkaris, she then front flips from his back and shoots him mid air, when she lands she rolls and runs to The Arbiter, guarding her
Agent Lilly: Hello Ma'am, I'm Agent Lilly, Nice to meet you, how's your day going?

In one area of the park on the ark, light begins to shine in the form of a group of shapes, some gear shaped, others squares, which holds a central light like no shape at all, which shields from view a form coalescing within.

It appears to be a rather rotund individual, with a large white beard and a large bag held over his shoulder. Is it? Could it be? Why, yes, it is, it's a large green creature made of what appears to be bubble gum wearing the most obnoxiously neon blue, green, and yellow outfit ever beheld by mortal eyes and sunglasses, with its lunch bag carried over its shoulder.
It then throws the bag onto the ground, where it unrolls into a picnic blanket along with what appears to be over 20 full course meals.

Jelloji love picnic. The creature says in an unbearably high pitched voice that sounds exactly as toddlerish as that grammar. It then proceeds to begin eating roughly 10 of the meals at once, somehow morphing extra mouths to eat with as it eats. A wedding sized cake goes down one mouth as a full turkey is stuffed down another, while a third eats an entire ham all on its own.

The creature has almost demolished the entire meal in 3 seconds flat when it reacts as if someone is speaking to it. From somewhere deep in the tube thing it appears to have for ears, a communicator buzzes "Jelloji! Stop, now. You are on a mission to investigate that thing that mashed all the time scrolls together, not your LUNCH BREAK!"
"Supreme Kai of Time, clearly he is just glad to have some of your amazing cooking before the mission, can't you cut him some slack?"
"Oh, alright. He can have 1 more minute, but then it's back to work."

Jelloji then turns back to the 3 cracker crumbs and 2 molecule thick slices of cheese he had missed as he ate, only to find they were missing. He looked all around the area, only to see that they were being sent into the giant whirlpool the guy with the rod was making!

[Action]

Jelloji emits steam from holes that suddenly form in the back of his head as he steadily raises his voice, "You steal Jelloji's food. No one steals Jelloji's food! JELLOJI MAKE YOU DIE NOW!"

Jelloji stares directly at Alkaris, and then... begins posing. he lifts legs and moves his arms in complex motions, seemingly just because he can, but seemingly also slowly gathering energy as he does so. He yells out "JELLOJI..." before beginning to do a pirouette. "SUPER..." He begins partaking in some Irish stepdance moves, his legs twisting around themselves to perform each step on cue with some imagined beat. "AMAZING..." He begins beating his chest like a gorilla for a solid 3 minutes. The people in his earpiece sigh. "KICK!" He winds his body up for a kick and... stabs his foot directly into the ground, where it stretches out the entire distance between himself and Alkaris's position before kicking directly through the ground beneath Alkaris and, if Alkaris hasn't moved since the chargeup/dance number started, into Alkaris himself.

Alright, as much as I want to speak in gold, that became obnoxious faster than I expected.

MEANWHILE, I HAVE NO SUCH RESTRICTIONS!

Sigh.

QUOTE (JOEbob @ Jan 22 2024, 09:02 PM)

"I have a perfect memory! So, before I beat up a Dragon who totally isn't a Godmodder despite his unlimited alternate accounts, we got not-here by yellow freak balef-Ooooh! We can destroy the floor! Yes! That's the most important thing to do here! What was I talking about?" So saying, DefJOE begins destroying the floor! Now, destroying the floor is a tricky business. You can't just punch it.  That's just a hole- you still have a floor! And you can't just destroy the top layer-then the level under it becomes the floor. No, no, you need to destroy the entire floor at once(or on a conceptual level)- or make it not a floor anymore. Whichever's easier. One way to make the floor not the floor is to reverse gravity, turning it into the ceiling- as long as there Was no ceiling, this destroys the floor.  But I get the impression this place has ceilings. Fewer ceilings than floors, to be sure, but still! Not a masterstroke, and why settle for imperfection? So the entire floor it is, on an ontological level (We can't have a bunch of lava being summoned and filling in the floor again!). Fortunately, as mentioned, the world is only a few seconds old. This is very young, so the rules are sure to be in flux, and already the floor is supposed to be destroyed, anyway. Focusing his energies of unlimited potential, the mystical powers that can create or destroy or do whatever else they please, DefJOE dodgerolls. His invincibility frames allow him to avoid the Floor's next Floor attack (which would otherwise impose Floor on him, keeping him from going down, as Floors do) and clip through the Floor. Now that he's past the Floor attack (which also doubles as a Floor Barrier, keeping things from normally attacking the Floor directly, like how skin and bones usually blocks physically-delivered conceptual weapons aiming for your selfhood), he can punch the Floor (Conceptually) in the face! While the Floor is in hitstun, DefJOE constructs an Floor Punching Robot using nothing but his hair, two acorns, and a Floor Punching Robot. The Floor Punching Robot will punch the floor every time it exits hitstun, keeping the Floor from using its Floor Attack (/Floor Barrier) and ensuring the Floor is continually not-being-a-floor! Besides the damage to the floor, this will make it much easier for anyone else to attack the Floor through the lack of a floor-barrier.

Glad to see you, JOE! You Noclip through the floor and start falling! Right now, being inside something you aren't supposed to be gives you X-Ray vision.

GIVE ME A BREAK. YOU TAKE SHORTCUTS ON ONE LITTLE THING, AND EVERYONE'S ON IT LIKE A PACK OF WOLVES AT A BUFFET. THE ARK'S DEFENSE SYSTEMS NOTICE WHAT YOU'RE TRYING TO DO. ENJOY THE INFINI-PEDIMENTS.

...

YOUR SILENCE SPEAKS VOLUMES, ARBITER.

QUOTE (Splashcat @ Jan 22 2024, 09:11 PM)

Alan crashes into the timeline like a rock through a pane of glass. The air around him quivers in fractal patterns, stray vertices precipitating out and falling to the ground as metal rain. He is an Order eidokine, the distillation of self into pattern and pattern into self. His presence here, in a timeline where he may well never have been born at all, is like a ring of ripples appearing spontaneously in a pond into which no stone was ever thrown. It grates. The local order of his continued existence clashes with the global order of time. Time, weakened, yields. He shudders, then calms, and the air around him stills. Then he collapses to the ground, rolling over onto his back and staring up at the red-green sky. ...he inspects it carefully, desperately hoping it doesn't look familiar. "Yes. I remember the Red Dragon." With how vast it was, the sky could be its body, and the green sun a viridescent eye... But even if that fear is proven false, there's still something he could learn from the sky. If there is something wrong with the sky, then there is some other version of this sky that is not this, a version of the sky that is right. That is *ordered.* His eyes shine with concentric ellipses, alternating short and long axes, as he stares up into it, trying to see the sky as it *should be*, and how the sky as it *is* deviates from this order. He also spares some focus to keep a bit of that tremble in the air around him going. This is a combat zone, and as much as he's hoping to take a minute to rest and stargaze, there's a chance somebody jumps him, in which case being prepared to cause razor-sharp fractal edges to precipitate out of the space-time they occupy should hopefully be an effective defense.

Good to see you've made it, Alan.

As you dowse the sky it tells you everything is as it should be.
That is clearly not the case, and your gut tells us the same. You have such amazing senses, and-
sorry, I'm getting distracted.

You pick out a speck in front of the sun. One that seems to be getting larger and lar- yeah, that's BRINE.

We need to prepare. Like, now.

QUOTE (Sky High @ Jan 22 2024, 09:31 PM)

An orange cat emerges from the smoke. An orange cat who loves food and hates dogs. An orange cat who has risen to memetic status on the internet. An orange cat with an appetite for fish. As fate has determined he do, he has appeared here. ACTION Heathcliff leaps at Hollow Alkaris and steals his Rod, scampering away carrying it in his mouth.

As Heathcliff leaps at Alkaris, he splits in half in an explosion of teal energies that also engulfs the cat. He reforms standing in front of Heathcliff, completely frozen mid-jump, now held in place by telekinesis on the-
Hold on, that can't be right. The molecular level?

QUOTE (RazorTyphoon @ Jan 22 2024, 09:42 PM)

"What's this?" Some guy seems confused on his whereabouts, but he looks to be something. "I supervised a bunch of other stuff so heck, how about I straight up take part in this?" RazorTyphoon "Razor" - The guy with a pen, yo-yo and a desire for inspiration and concepts, seemingly wearing a hood because he feels like it. [Action] So what's fun? Temporarily combining the pen and yo-yo (basically tying the yo-yo's string around the pen) and flinging it into the Hollow Alkaris if that's what it's called.

Alkaris wheels around. As he makes a chopping motion towards the pen-yo-yo, a flat plane of teal energy ripples outwards from the toy, cleanly splitting it and everything it intersects.

Meanwhile, Heathcliff starts moving again. Still in slow motion, but he's definitely moving.

QUOTE (Nedben @ Jan 22 2024, 09:50 PM)

A world without time travel or resurrection? Time to EXALT. I will offer our appreciated The Arbiter an option. A framework. An assistance. The grand sorcery and the arising of disciple. I've probably given you some gun or other already, so take another in case it's been lost in the confusion. From the absurdity of my brow I offer to light yours, ma'am! The voids that got us here are perhaps specialized tools. Let's refresh your majesty with another cadence. No curse need taint the blessing, but we may need more tools since you can see more clearly than we. Now then. Sun. Moon. Stars, in journeys in serenity in battles in secrets in endings. Earth. Machine. The alterations of old power rebelling. Heart. Grail. Moth. Lantern. Forge. Edge. Winter. Knock. Secret Histories: Rose, Sky, Moon, Nectar, Scale. Choose, or if you do not receive the understanding sufficiently, ask, and we will see about cycling more into it. From this is nontriviality. I will allow you to search what brilliance best suits you and see if we can emulate it. Forgive me the referent habits. If none aligns, there are other tools, but ah...might as well ensure you progression if this becomes a slog. Information is hesitant in worldlines like these. A S C E N D

Oh!

Very well. What do I want? Egress. Answers. To instruct others. I seek a purpose outside of these artificial realities. What would you recommend?

QUOTE (CHESARE @ Jan 22 2024, 10:01 PM)

(The Wizard-Tyrant Neranye is gone) The sky swirls with crimson hues. (The Unthing, the liminal beast of liminal relations to reality, exceeded its allotted time in this world. It too is gone) The ARK shudders with each crash landing of a new Descended in this reality-which-is-false-to-them. (A normal day? A lie) With a hundred wings not wholly unlike those of a butterfly's (or a dragon's) and a torso from which stretch a hundred hundred arms (yet no legs?) each spindly yet strong, long and sharp, another Descended lives up to its title as it plummets from nowhere into what is almost definitely somewhere (almost definitely). It looks around (with what eyes?) and beholds the chaos (not of my making?) surrounding it on all sides. It reaches out with a hundred hands (but time refuses to fold and bend). It reaches out with a hundred hands (but the dead move no lip nor limb at my command). It reaches out to a sky crimson (not with flame), to a sun green (not with sickness) and howls (in no voice yet granted). (Mine are the skies to burn as are the seas mine to boil. Time is mine to shackle with, not to be shackled. Death is my gift, taken by one hundred arms as it is given by one hundred more. I will not stand this false and hollow reality) I think it would scream if given a voice, but that would quickly become more annoying than it is worth. For now, let is settle with giving it an identity- It would be rather difficult to proceed without an identity to the entity in question, after all. (o) reaches out with one hundred hands towards the sucking vortex of its foe and unleashes a scattershot of metal rods. Tungsten and lead and heavier metals besides. Hollow Alkaris' whirlpool pulls these heavy metals into itself like the earth pulls kinetic bombardment ordinance to ground (with great force, great devastation).

o? A beautiful name, if a bit empty. Is it okay to call you... Greg?

Alkaris raises one hand to stop the barrage and-
Heathcliff breaks free, still in the midst of his leap. The Rod has changed position, but he manages to neatly rake his claws across Alkaris' torso!
His attention divided, the first rod scores a direct hit. Still standing, Alkaris and focuses on the rest of the metal rain. Rod after rod lie frozen in the air, stacking up atop each other. Soon, the weight begins to buckle. Before the rods can hit the ground, Alkaris thrusts his other hand into the air and transforms it into a cloud of pure Oblivion.
Rising into the air, the cloud consumes everything in its way. As it billows outwards into an umbrellalike shape, individual wisps break off from the main body. Surrounded once again by teal energy, they stretch in impossible ways to dart towards o!

Below, Alkaris removes his arm from the cloud, whose cap casts a long shadow over the battlefield.

As he runs a hand over the scratches in his robes, they quickly reseal themselves, good as new.
"A futile action," he says. "Nonetheless, one which must be punished."

This is a lie, he's taken 3 damage.

Once again, teal energy crackles around Alkaris. He brings one foot back, and everything changes. For an instant, he becomes long: one foot remains where he previously was, one foot positioned in front of Heathcliff. The next, Alkaris is back where he was previously standing, but Heathcliff is flying through the air.

QUOTE (King_Fuffy @ Jan 22 2024, 10:59 PM)

A young train stands in its station. It just so happens that today, the 22nd of January, 1899, is this young train's birthday! Though it was 333 years ago that it was christened and began its service, it is only today it will be given a name! What will the name of this young train be? > MINOTAURSHIT GORILLAFUCK Try again. > THE LABYRINTH EXPRESS Very well! This train is the LABYRINTH EXPRESS. As was previously mentioned, it is this train's BIRTHDAY. There's just one problem. This is not a story about a train. The conductor of a singular train approaches. They doff all of their hats, revealing their golden hair, and smile with too-sharp teeth. "Excuse me, I'm sorry. Do you have your... ticket...?" They trail off mid-thought. Their eyes flicker around, from Hollow Alkaris to the sky to BUILDER·BADAM to the floor. The sky is wrong. The floor is wrong. What's left to be wrongness? Without missing a beat, all their eyes snap back to BUILDER·BADAM. "Is this your ticket?" they ask, gesturing to Hollow Alkaris. "I have to punch your ticket. It's standard procedure for all travellers." They do not wait for a response. A hundred fists slam into Hollow Alkaris. The Passionate Conductor has joined the battle!

Alkaris distorts yet again, compressing himself into a single point in space, leaving nothing but Oblivion where he previously was. 99 fists get annihilated. One fist hits him head on, and-this is too graphic to describe, I give up.

...Covered in fist-viscera, Alkaris returns to normal size. Oblivion surges across his body, erasing any evidence of what just happened.
3 damage.

QUOTE (O.R.I.G.I.N. @ Jan 22 2024, 11:34 PM)

It's back. We're back. He's back. It's- Excellent. A beautiful day on the Ark. In a park. His mouth tastes like tree bark. Better than getting eaten by a shark. John would know. A guy in a leather jacket is snuggled up in the grass, sleeping. He's got a spike mohawk, spiked armbands, spiked boots- spiked everything really. Sharp fingernails with black polish, good for picking at a guitar. Sharp piercings in his ears to get along with the elves. Sharp eyebrows. Everybody wants those, right? John rolls onto his back as he slowly awakens. He stretches himself out, yawning loudly to the sky. "YAAAAAAAAWN!!!" He rubs the sleep out of his eyes. "Good nap. Good nap." John looks around, taking in the scene. Not even late to the party this time. Good deal. Got the Arbiter. Oblivion guy. And... John frowns, looking at Badam. "Say, weren't we..." He pauses mid-sentence, rubbing his chin. "Didn't we have some sort of deal that I...?" His face scrunches up, trying to remember. He can't. He throws up his hands, defeated. "Never mind. Must've been dreaming." [ACTION] John pops up to his feet, lugging his big guitar case up with him. He kicks it open, rummaging through it for something to play. He ends up with a shoe. Like, a regular old tennis shoe. Black. White heels. Laces. Not exactly musical. "Kicking instrument," John explains. "Can't play drums without it." ...Sure. Whatever. Around John, everybody seems to be dealing with everything else. Breaking the floor. Watching the sky. Killing Alkaris. That leaves him with... John frowns. "You know," he tells Badam, "I had a weird dream about you." He pulls out the laces on his shoe, before spinning it around like some sort of nunchuck. "Were we in a band at some point? The... the Head Case Concussions or the Spike-A-Holics?" He scratches his head, shoe spinning like wild to his side. "No? I could've sworn..." He loses his grip on the shoe. It shoots off into the air, flying toward Badam like Usain Bolt out of a crossbow. That is to say, fast. In the blink of an eye, it's just millimeters away from Badam's big, golden forehead. A blink later, it's still millimeters away. A few more, and the same. That's not to say they aren't moving. The shoe is still bolting toward Badam. It's just Badam's bolting with it. It's a shoe, after all. Shoo shoo. The sheer force of that suggestion is pushing Badam away, dragging him through the park in the Ark. It's aiming for his head, so the force is knocking him down. It kicks him head over heels, tumbling through the beautiful scenery. Did you know is Spanish, the word for shoe is zapato? Only word John remembers from that class. "Zapato," he mumbles under his breath, remembering. "Zapato. Zap-at-" Thunder crashes down from the red sky. Just before it, lightning struck. Black and white. Fabric and heel. Negative and ground. Beetle and juice. Three times, and the object changes. Badam gets knocking in the noggin' with the shoe. Then, he gets struck by the zapato. The lightning. Pounds him into a crater in the poor ground. It's a good thing the Arbiter hated that ground. "Oh..." John watches the smoldering ruins, mildly concerned. "Did I do that?"

BADAM takes a solid clog to the head, and crashes through the trees!

WOW, PAIN! IF I WASN'T A SOLID BLOCK OF STONE, I WOULD'VE FELT THAT!

You did feel that. 20,000 Damage for you.

QUOTE (Crimtane Shovel @ Jan 23 2024, 12:42 AM)

In the current chaos formed by opening, a brief blip of calm. A man confidently strides in, charcoal-grey business suit at odds with the jesters hat atop his head. He looks at the madness, and a thought occurs to him as he breaks into a grin. <Lets have some REAL chaos!> Xee has joined the fight? [Action Stuff I Guess] Xee takes off his hat, and begins digging through it. ... ... ...Oh wow he's really taking a second .... Any minute now... And finally, he pulls out a butterfly knife, the handle having a hole in it. "Well lets see here, if I remember right I just-" His musings get cut off as he drops the knife onto his foot. Naturally, he jumps really high into the air as a response to pain, like any normal person would. And as he reaches the apex of his leap, he realizes the sky is wrong. Quickly moving to fix things, he rips the knife out of his foot, and throws it at the sky. He then hits the ground, a Xee-shaped hole forming as he does. As he does, the knife moves to go stab whatever is causing the incorrect sky.

Your knife flies towards BRINE, the wrongness of the sky.

"...Metal."

Aaaand just like that, he's absorbed the knife. Just like everything else he touches. How should we attack something that absorbs matter and energy?

QUOTE (Robot # 207 @ Jan 23 2024, 07:56 PM)

In Orbit of this planet a Satellite activates, it does not know where it is, what is happening, or who anyone around the battlefield is, but it does know its Purpose. What the Satellite thinks though isn't as important as what someone else thinks, so the Satellite fires its Kinetic Launcher, it contains a Drop Pod, the Drop Pod then moves towards the battlefield and starts slowing down with boosters at a certain height, thus it lands pretty softly by the time it's on the ground. The Drop Pod door opens, and someone walks out, She is wearing Sci-fi metal armor, the armor has a cape hanging from her back, she’s wearing Headphones and a Gas Mask that covers and protects the lower half of her face, her eyes aren't covered though, they're a bright Blue, contrasting heavily with her long Red hair, her skin is as white as snow, she holds an assault rifle in her hands and there's a sword sheathe attached to her hip. OOC: She is the actual character here, The Satellite will mostly be support, mostly acting to help player narration. As she leaves the pod Agent Lilly looks around the battlefield, she immediately notes the 3 Main people on the battlefield, she is then contacted by The Satellite. The Satellite: Agent Lilly, The Arbiter is marked as an Ally, you should probably attack the Minion Hollow Alkaris first. Agent Lilly: Got it [Action] Lilly runs towards Hollow Alkaris while firing her Rifle, aiming at the limbs to stop him from dodging or countering, when she's close enough she stores her rifle on her back, then she Dashes through Hollow Alkaris, her sword is already in her hand when the Dash ends, she then sheathes the sword, this causes multiple slash wounds to appear on Hollow Alkaris, she then front flips from his back and shoots him mid air, when she lands she rolls and runs to The Arbiter, guarding her Agent Lilly: Hello Ma'am, I'm Agent Lilly, Nice to meet you, how's your day going?

Alkaris generates a wall of Oblivion that consumes your bullets, before harmlessly dashing through it at a speed that matches your own. Transforming his right arm into a roiling black blade, he deflects each of your blows in a stunning display of swordsmanship. Switching to the offensive, he pushes you back with an unending cascade of sharp edges. Every step and swing is rapid, calculated, forceful. At all times, he keeps his left arm, the one holding The Rod behind his back.

Taking a step back, Alkaris raises his sword in front of his face in some manner of salute before transforming it back into his hand. As you swing at him one more time, he extends his right arm to block your sword. Drawing no blood, it cuts deep into his arm. It liquefies once more, and flows around the entirety of your blade. Raising his arm into the air, he wrenches your sword out of your grasp, flinging it into the air behind him.

Stepping to the side, he allows you to pass.

...2 Damage.

So. Hi, Agent Lilly! Today has been long. People have died, people have lived, and there's a certain someone I can't find a good time to talk to.

That being said, it's great to have physical hands, don't you think?

QUOTE (Ender_Smirk @ Jan 25 2024, 04:09 AM)

In one area of the park on the ark, light begins to shine in the form of a group of shapes, some gear shaped, others squares, which holds a central light like no shape at all, which shields from view a form coalescing within. It appears to be a rather rotund individual, with a large white beard and a large bag held over his shoulder. Is it? Could it be? Why, yes, it is, it's a large green creature made of what appears to be bubble gum wearing the most obnoxiously neon blue, green, and yellow outfit ever beheld by mortal eyes and sunglasses, with its lunch bag carried over its shoulder. It then throws the bag onto the ground, where it unrolls into a picnic blanket along with what appears to be over 20 full course meals. Jelloji love picnic. The creature says in an unbearably high pitched voice that sounds exactly as toddlerish as that grammar. It then proceeds to begin eating roughly 10 of the meals at once, somehow morphing extra mouths to eat with as it eats. A wedding sized cake goes down one mouth as a full turkey is stuffed down another, while a third eats an entire ham all on its own. The creature has almost demolished the entire meal in 3 seconds flat when it reacts as if someone is speaking to it. From somewhere deep in the tube thing it appears to have for ears, a communicator buzzes "Jelloji! Stop, now. You are on a mission to investigate that thing that mashed all the time scrolls together, not your LUNCH BREAK!" "Supreme Kai of Time, clearly he is just glad to have some of your amazing cooking before the mission, can't you cut him some slack?" "Oh, alright. He can have 1 more minute, but then it's back to work." Jelloji then turns back to the 3 cracker crumbs and 2 molecule thick slices of cheese he had missed as he ate, only to find they were missing. He looked all around the area, only to see that they were being sent into the giant whirlpool the guy with the rod was making! [Action] Jelloji emits steam from holes that suddenly form in the back of his head as he steadily raises his voice, "You steal Jelloji's food. No one steals Jelloji's food! JELLOJI MAKE YOU DIE NOW!" Jelloji stares directly at Alkaris, and then... begins posing. he lifts legs and moves his arms in complex motions, seemingly just because he can, but seemingly also slowly gathering energy as he does so. He yells out "JELLOJI..." before beginning to do a pirouette. "SUPER..." He begins partaking in some Irish stepdance moves, his legs twisting around themselves to perform each step on cue with some imagined beat. "AMAZING..." He begins beating his chest like a gorilla for a solid 3 minutes. The people in his earpiece sigh. "KICK!" He winds his body up for a kick and... stabs his foot directly into the ground, where it stretches out the entire distance between himself and Alkaris's position before kicking directly through the ground beneath Alkaris and, if Alkaris hasn't moved since the chargeup/dance number started, into Alkaris himself.

Welcome Jelloji! You've kicked Alkaris' face in the face, which has taken 4 damage. He really did just not even bother to get out of the way.

That being said, your foot has contracted ...Elf Pox? It's turned blue. I don't know what that means.

You should probably do something about that.


"Enough games."

With a snap of his fingers, Alkaris transforms into Oblivion. Thousands of faceless Eidolons peel off of him, resembling soldiers armed with rifles. They quickly fill the park, their very presence consuming trash cans, trees, benches and bushes.

With a silent army standing at attention, Alkaris stretches up to their forefront. As he walks out of the park, his army follows him into the city.

The City. The City full of survivors.

"Open fire."
...Why?
"To demonstrate my power."

Rising from the ground, concrete walls suddenly box in Alkaris and his legion, blocking their shots. Raising the Rod, Alkaris begins blasting the walls with concentrated Oblivion, but they continue to rise, interfering with his progress. Still, he's making the structure highly unstable. It's only a matter of time before this lucky break comes crashing down on everything.

Three giant worms burst from the ground. They seem to be made from... Nanites?

MASKING THE TRUTH, ARE WE? DID YOU REALLY THINK YOU COULD KEEP SECRETS FROM ME?

...

MR. ELECTRIC, KILL HIM.

One of the worms seems to nod, and begins drilling downwards. The other two worms remain on the surface.

...And now it's my turn. It's strange, being physically on the battlefield. I gave information back in the actual war. That'll stay the same. If you ask questions, I'll share what I know. Let's start with what's happening now...

Alkaris. He founded Nihil Magna after the Ontomachy against the Elementals. He made the Elemental Artifacts to bind them, and created the basis of Eidokinesis today. At the end of the war, he dove alone into the Elemental Plane of Oblivion. He killed all the Oblivion Elementals, but returned horribly injured, requiring life support to keep himself alive. This version of him looks like he's in the prime of his life, before that happened.

Unable to move, Alkaris has supposedly spent the entire history of Nihil Magna practicing psychic powers, such as telekinesis and telepathy. However, the teal energy that keeps showing up whenever he does something unfair doesn't match with psychic powers at all. It's something deeper, something absolute.

Today, Alkaris is most well-known for being the main protagonist of the anime Ten Elves Destiny. While popular, Ten Elves Destiny has been accused of historical revisionism, as well as not actually being about ten elves.

The most controversial storyline was the "Six Gems" arc. Despite advertizement as a storyline focussing on popular character Elf #7, Dernil Uskias, Alkaris was ultimately the one to acquire and use the titular "Six Gems", an act which killed Dernil and blew Alkaris' arm off. Many fans consider Dernil vs. Alkaris to be the greatest fight ever animated, but producers saw fit to never mention Dernil ever again. To this day, TED fans are divided into pre- and post- Dernil factions.

...I'm getting distracted. Alkaris died when the Praetors came to his planet and it exploded into a new Elemental Plane. Something clearly happened that day, but only the Praetors survived. If only one of them were here...

I used a lot of words without explaining them. Sorry about that. Just ask your questions. I don't actually know as much as you think, but I'll share what I can.


ITENERARI
1. Fight BUILDER·BADAM.
2. You have to reach the core. Dig faster.
3. Prepare for BRINE.


ECLIPSE IN 3
[???][BOSS] The Red Dragon. 1,000,000/1,000,000 Hp.


[???] Hollow Alkaris. 88/100 Hp. Linked to BUILDER·BADAM! Boxed into concrete structure!
[???] Eidolon Army. 250,000/250,000 Hp. Boxed into concrete structure!
[???][TBOSS] BUILDER·BADAM. 2,980,000/3,000,000 Hp.
[???] Infini-pede. 40,000/40,000 Hp. x2.



[ALLY] The Arbiter. 70/70 Hp.

[YOU] Alan. 25/25 Hp.
[YOU] Heathcliff 25/25 Hp. Airborne!
[YOU] Razor 25/25 Hp.
[YOU] Nedben 25/25 Hp.
[YOU] The Unthing 25/25 Hp. Unable to Land!
[YOU] John. 25/25 Hp.
[YOU] Passionate Conductor. 25/25 Hp.
[YOU] Xee. 25/25 Hp.
[YOU] Agent Lilly. 25/25 Hp.
[YOU] Jelloji. 25/25 Hp. Elf-Pox!


[???] Tiamat Security Forces. 200m Under.
[???] Mr. Electric the Infini-pede. 40,000/40,000 Hp. 150m/round.

[WE] Us. 100m Under.
[ALLY] Floor-Punching Robot: 100/7,000,000m. 100m/round.
[YOU] JOE. 25/25 Hp. Noclipped: 300m/round.

Heathcliff remains suspended in the air.

Meanwhile, in the concrete structure currently holding an army of eidolons, Heathcliff suddenly manifests behind each and every single one, simultaneously. Each of the Heathcliffs looks slightly different. Some are wearing helmets, some have balloons, some have fishbowls for hats. Anyway, each of the eidolons is simultaneously sliced in half by a lightsaber.

(At all times, he keeps his left arm, the one holding The Rod behind his back.)

To name it anything real is to give it too much credit. (?) No more does it deserve a name than it does a voice, than it does agency in this place.

(A small god...)

Divinity absent the divine. Here it is angry, and here it is strong, but here it is not god. It is a weapon.

Still, I will not let the act of Creation- the divinity of christening, from a lamb-lord herself- go to waste.



(o) pauses its flight mid-air for the meanest sliver of time (between time and time) before each of its hundred butterfly wings' subtlest shivers resynchronize in a new pattern.

Off in the opposite direction in a burst of elementless force. One half-hundred arms point forwards, coming together in an arrowhead shape in flight, each sharp digit pointed to Alkaris. (o) dodges around the Oblivion tendrils that lash out from the Oblivion cloud, weaving between them in a very unarrowlike manner as it seeks its target.

(o) lands (gentler than last time. Graceful) before Alkaris, sparing only a moment to reconfigure from soaring arrow to mad hecatoncheires. It goes without saying how many arms there are in this performance of violence (one hundred hundred. Sun-blotting, were there sun) as each shoots out from (o)'s body, stretches long, zigs sharply before zagging towards Alkaris with claws that would rend skin from flesh, flesh from bone.

Of course, Alkaris matches a hundred arms at a time with swishes of his blade-arm, or with tendrils of Oblivion, or with infinitely thin discs of teal energy, or with any other manner of splitting-forces at his disposal. (There is pain, there is) no blood, as (o) does not bleed, but as a hundred hands are split and halved and bisected in the commotion each (bleeds) an acrid red smog that leaks and floats.

The (blood) wisps come to saturate the air. The cloud that forms thickens and swirls with the exchanges of blows, of violence. Still, (o) swings and is severed, clawed arm-ends falling off before dissipating into the ether while the cut ends smoulder into the ever darker nuage of stinking rouge.

(The cloud is darker now than he can see through) although he does not need to.

(Thicker by the instant with my blood) as more and more dismembered ends disappear as they're severed.

(At all times, he keeps his left arm, the one holding The Rod behind his back.)


Alkaris does not notice when one one-hundredth hundredth of the arms shooting towards him before he severs them seems, within the obfuscatory cloud of (blood), to suddenly be cut short before any blade or force hits it.

It is not actually severed, of course, although it seems halved at the half-length. Instead, in the commotion, this single arm has slipped partially into another space. (It flies straight and true towards its goal) unseen in this plane of existence before reaching the end of the subspace.

The end of the arm-that-is-gone-but-not-severed appears back in normal space, behind Alkaris. While (too many) arms strike and split, this single clawed hand morphs.

(Greg), the arm-named-by-divinity, an act of Creation bound to it in the purest possible way in this medium- by word, by inscription from a scribe- transforms the claws into the shape of a Pickaxe.

True, the Pickaxe imbued with a Creation strikes the Rod, mining it for a single second before Alkaris realizes what happens and reacts as expected. As was inevitable.

(Withdraw) (Flee) (Soar) (Begone) (Escape) (Recuperate) (Hide) (Survive)

Still, as a wounded (o) whips its own cloud of (blood) into a whirlwind to carry its wings like sails away from the skirmish, the cracks in the Rod from the Pickaxe-strike remain, glowing with the trace energies of Creation...

(It was named Greg)

Egress. Answers. To instruct others. Seeking a purpose outside of these artificial realities.

Coalescing. The Knock permits no seal and no isolation that cannot withstand it. It thrusts us gleefully out of ignorance, which is not really safe. There are keys that open, wounds that are doors, ways that reach other worlds. Some skills branch off it. Some are oracles like the lanterns, some build machines and not just unseam them, some are surgical. Through eloquence and understanding, the door opens both ways. Some powers cross borders to grow other powers, anyway. Some follow the Way, and some are the Way for others. Decisions made can themselves make.

As the old saying goes, more from bravado to surpass than truth of moment: 'No lock remains. No door remains. No gate remains. No wall remains. No fortress is closed against me. No country forbids me. No law binds but the law of the Mother. I am a Key, and this is my use.'. I will ask the rose of Preliminal Meter a matter, for nine modes and nine horizons: the subtle rhythms that open ways will branch to many trees. Surpass wounds, moments, divisions, secrets, sacraments. Homage to the powers that open. The door is opened.

Less poetically, if the Arbiter is good with this I'll grant her the power that opens, a close relative to a make-way's removing of obstacles or a shining star's make-possible. It can do a lot of different things with self-adaptation, figuring out other lores and foundations as needed (though that's mostly my blessing smoothing over framework matters, saves the research time). Good at unlocking stuff and opening paths, which extends to getting information in unusual fashions. Fancy amethyst ampoules and secret threshold magics, then weirder machinations (and bombs, though that's a bit shared).




-
(Hm. In a former possibility, Alkaris could have been Mind. I wonder what was taken from who to build that, by dragonwrath and mystery.)

John considers Badam's response with a thoughtful frown. "'Solid Block of Stone?'" he says. "I don't remember being part of any bands called 'Solid Block of Stone.' Are you talking about the 'Granite Underground?' Or..."

John gasps. He covers his mouth with one hand as he points excitedly with the other. "Dude, are you telling me you're a Pilot!?" John suppresses a squeal. He bounces from one foot to the other, absolutely giddy. "That's so cool! I need your autograph! Seriously. Just let me-"

He stops hopping and starts rummaging through his pockets, looking for his copy of Core. He can't find it. He looks around, frantically trying to find it. He needs this autograph!

...That's when John realizes most of the park has been destroyed.

He totally forgets about getting that autograph.

John surveys the devastation. The trash is gone. That's good. And the benches- that's meh. But the trees! The bushes!

Forget about how John was just bulldozing the area with Badam's face. This is just plain illegal!

John snarls at Badam. "Come on, man! Stop burning the Wicked Garden! It's been- what? Thirty years? Get over it!"

[ACTION]

Without even looking, John reaches into his guitar case and pulls out a Bluetooth Speaker. "Biting instrument," he mutters quickly as he turns it on. Which... I don't think it is?

He takes out his phone and starts dinking around with it. The speaker's computerized voice tells him, "Phone connected." John nods to himself as he scrolls through his playlist. A few clicks here. Change the settings there.

He stuffs his phone back in his pocket, then positions himself like a baseball pitcher. He has the speaker in one hand, his eyes glaring at Badam. "You ready?"

He brings the speaker out far behind his head, winding up his throw. His whole body seems to stretch backward, balancing on just one toe. His breath is heavy. It tastes like metal in the air.

Then, he lets it rip.

With a quick turn, John hurls the speaker like a fastball over toward the Infini-pedes. It sails past the two on the surface, then with a mid-air turn, tumbles down after Mr. Electric.

On the surface, John looks at Badam and grins. "Had you going there for a second, right? You thought I was gonna attack you." He shakes his head. "Can't kill you before I get your autograph."

Meanwhile, the speaker rushes after Mr. Electric, the Infini-pede. Dirt kicks up from the ground as the worm digs through it, but the speaker avoids it all. it crashes into the Infini-pede, rushing straight through its nanite form. The speaker lands at the bottom of the hole, and John whips out his phone. With a flourish, he shows Badam the big green play button. He presses it with a laugh.

In the tunnel, the speaker blares to life. "CONVESATIONS KILL!" The volume is loud. Too loud. Sound waves rip through the nanite worm. "Big Empty" launches Mr. Electric out of its tunnel, slamming it hard into the ground above.

John grins at Badam. "Who are we killing, anyways? I'm just dying to know."

Alan takes in the Arbiter's information. There are three turns until Brine arrives, and the Descended will need to prepare, but Alkaris's attempt to apparently wantonly slaughter a city's inhabitants is a more pressing concern. He lies there for a moment longer, deciding on a plan of action, then pulls himself to his feet with a groan, standing in a position that for anybody else would be dangerously off-balance, internal Order circulating through his meridians like the spin of a gyroscope to keep him upright as he turns to face Alkaris.

The tremor in the air around him he cultivated last turn followshim ripples in time expressing themselves as ripples in space. Alan crouches, then sprints forward, using his staff of symmetry to pole vault into the air above Alkaris. Alan executes a perfect quadruple somersault midair, wrapping the lines of distortion around himself, then transferring them to his staff with a spin before bringing it down on Alkaris's head. The physical blow would likely concuss most combatants, but Alan has a better plan than relying on physical force. The real payload of the attack is the accumulated temporal distortion around Alan, injected into Alkaris's body.

Alan sees the shattered shape of history unfold around Alkaris, flashes of his life reflected in shards of broken glass. Alkaris's arm in Ten Elves Destiny was blown off by the use of the Six Gems, hm? Then there must be some comparable event that occurred in the real Alkaris's history. One that can be made part of his destiny. Alan finds it, and then binds it to him. He is an Alkaris, so he will do what an Alkaris does, no matter what.

Then, with his staff still in the process of impacting into Alkaris's head, Alan redistributes his downward momentum into the point of impact, driving Alkaris violently downward and catapulting himself back in the air, hopefully getting him to a safe distance as Alkaris's arm hopefully explodes.

Everything one does causes a chain reaction, one serves a role in this battle even if it's short lived.



Everyone has their motives, everyone has their potential, everyone has a personality and a heart to go off of.



For we fight to the end, desperate to become a brave and heroic saviour of reality...



But a few of us are stupid and a big joke.



[Action]


"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO, NOT THE YOYO!"

As depressing as it is, one must focus on the task at hand, not a simple toy meant for showing off tricks.

"I HAD HER FOR 7 AND A HALF MONTHS! THIS IS THE WORST DAY EVER!"


Being one of the few idiots. Razor, a guy who was a former member of a group of reality defenders (guardians), retired down to a hooded yoyo obsessed writer with poor fighting skills.


"I-I didn't even get to write the Yo-Yo Chronicles..."



For whatever reason, his priorities on the task at hand have been closed down from


- Save the day!
- Write the "Yo-Yo Chronicles"
- Question tropes and story elements.
- Draw concept art.

to..

- Mourn the yoyo's demise.
- Mourn the yoyo's demise.
- Run out of ideas on how to fight.
- Mourn some more.