Welcome. Given that, at my time of writing this, my entire story is nearing forty thousand words, I thought it might be prudent to, you know, make those forty thousand words easily accessible to those who want, need, or wish to examine the sum of my authorial career so far. This post itself shall be devoted to keeping an adequate summary up for each of the acts and intermissions of my plot, which will be included at some point. It shall also contain a changelog, for whatever reason, and a simple way to check which character is which, if you so desire. For now, sit back, and bask in the nonexistent glory of that which has not been fully completed. Eventually, the summaries will be split into Grayhold plot, and Vetas plot, but this is not currently the case. For now, sit back, and bask in the nonexistent glory of that which has not been fully completed. Hah.

If you have any questions, comments, concerns, or suggestions, feel free to ask here.


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Originally posted on 2015-10-23 16:29:00

Before I begin, I must state several things. One, there is obviously no swear filter here. As such, this work might be offensive to some readers, as this work contains an inordinate amount of swearing, both from the narrator, and the characters. Second, I have functionally redone most of the chat logs to fit the current, and far better, method of design I have taken to as of late. Enjoy.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I may or may not replace sections of things like this with more recent drabbles I've written on the very same topic. Retries, if you will.

I. RESPITEBOUND. (ACTS 1-5 & |1)



Who is this fellow?

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Your name is NELRTE AVLCAN. Your NOSTAURË will be in three enquier. As was mentioned earlier, an enquier is equivalent to a single day. It is odd how your group of friends ended up like that. You really have no idea how that works.

Your INTERESTS include COMBAT PRACTICE on the roof of your abode with your Guardian, designing ABSOLUTELY AMAZING SWORDS and/or ARCHITECTURE, though you do not have the supplies for the latter. You would be very thrilled if there was a game that enabled you to do that. You also enjoy SPEAKING WITH YOUR FRIENDS, as well as watching MEDIOCRE ACTION-COMEDIES. They are so good, no matter how many times your friends say they are stupid.

Your chumhandle is troublesomeArtificer, and you generally speak in a manner lacking capitals in any way whatsoever.

Be Nelrte?

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

You have a great idea! Torture the assholes who probably wanted to control you with an Elven Romance Exposition!

Elven romance is a very complex subject, even more so than troll romance. The four quadrants are a mere sliver of the complexities of elven romantic novels. There are five quintuplets of elven romance, connected to two other terms, descriptors, if you will. Perhaps it will be difficult to understand these concepts. Well, this guy does not give a fuck.

The most common quintuplet is, of course, the least important, even using the most generic name. Ambiguoic relationships are usually not referred to as relationships whatsoever. They are the total lack of them. These relationships are so common. SO common. They are ambiguous, so to speak.

Now, off to the more complex things.

Amimic relationships fall underneath the category of positive emotions. They are specifically what one would refer to both as human romance, and matespritships. They are, in the essentials, one of the two reproductive quintuplets of the spectrum. These relationships usually last longer periods of time than most of the others, as they do not (usually) involve violence. An amimic relationship is one of the most positive on the spectrum.

However, with every good thing comes the very opposite. Dissihainish relationships are expressions of the deepest hatred, the most violent on the negative end of the spectrum. They are commonly referred to by trolls as kismesissitudes. These also hold a vital role in the reproductive system, being the second reproductive quintuplet. This type of relationship is quite ironic, as one is refraining from slaying the other, and vice versa. This is what makes it love in the first place. A good dissihainish relationship should also last a somewhat long period of time.

We have seen both ends of the horizontal side of the spectrum, with ambiguoic relationships being in the direct center. The next one is one of the most vital relationships. It is also quiet an odd one, as the position it takes upon the spectrum varies, changing roles as it goes. I suppose you could cut it in half, but that would take away some of the famed complexity of the system.

Amo-Ateuric relations occur anywhere on the spectrum, save the very ends, as well as the direct center. They are referred to as both moirallegiances and auspisticism. Amo-Ateuric relationships can vary in mood, from mediator to what humans describe as a 'best friend'. These relationships, as aforementioned, are the most important, as they are the ones keeping the sanity, well-being, and moods of the elven race as a whole intact. Therefore, they are usually positive, but may be more on the negative end of the spectrum if they act as mediators between two rivals.

At this point, things get even more befuddling.

Each relationship is on the horizontal end of the spectrum, right? That statement alone implies there is a vertical end. This transforms the spectrum into something much more diverse, allowing a variety of combinations to be made, based on preference. Relationships that are more devocatific are more likely to continue along for longer periods of time. These are at both ends of the vertical spectrum. However, on the sides nearer to the ambiguoic end tend to last for shorter amounts of time, or are even obamouric, or unrequited relationships. Most elves wish to have very devocatific are much more likely to succeed. However, the devocatific ends could refer to anything, even a profession, or inanimate thing/place, however literal or otherwise. For future note-taking, this also eliminates the concepts of homo and heterosexuality. Everybody may not be the same gender, but it does not matter. That shall remain unexplained. For now.

You know what? He thinks you look like you want to know.

Elf reproduction, or "to tube/go tubing", as it is commonly referred to (amongst a number of other terms he won't get into), is a delicate system. After the initial process is completed, (No detail shall be put into that.) you are left with pure genetic material. These two puddles of material are then mixed naturally within the elf at hand, or poured into a Fusion Bulb, usually along with the twin genetic material of other couples. A Fusion Bulb is a giant plant native to subterranean Vetas. Then, the material slowly merges and morphs together into a slurry of possible generations, and finally separate into individual amounts. At this point, the genetic material must be placed into a Fusion Bulb. Next, the material slowly incubates, mixing with microscopic catalysts within the Bulb. This process can take anywhere from three to seven hundred loä. Finally, the Bulb unravels, and out come a large amount of what shall be described here as eggs, though they are more alike to cocoons. In time, after being heated by the warmth of the Bulb, (one to two loä) an elf sprouts out of each individual egg/cocoon. This process completely eliminates any form of reproduction with the human race. However, they do not yet exist. But they will soon.

Yes, this young elf is quite good at verbally torturing people. I'm proud. Don't worry, he didn't explain everything.

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>Nelrte: Examine room.

You examine your room, and pass by the normality. There is your green Serin Refugilair, the Gray Fluid Biomatter already primed to ventilate you, when night comes. The reason elves use Serin Refugilairs in the first place is to be protected from the somewhat chilly temperatures, and to avoid the psychic resonance that occasionally latches itself to elven minds at night. The first one probably explains Kalare's insomnia. He does not seem to get cold. Anyways, you glance upon your posters of people like Elf Kevin James and Elf Ray Romano. You think they are so amazing.

What will you do?

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>Nelrte: Wait around for the other guy to get on.

You wait until the "Master Programmer" himself comes online to see about the game. Apparently, this game was parsed from inscriptions Kalare and one of the girls found in some sort of 'Frog Temple'. You have no idea what this means.



How hard is it to compile a code, and transfer it into data able to be easily transferred? You have no idea.

>Nelrte: Be Kalare.

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You are once again Erelye. It is a good thing, as you were getting bored of Nelrte. Not really. From what you hear from Nelrte, the game is almost complete. In fact, it is most likely complete right now. Oh, would you look at that. He has already begun to pester everybody.

>Kalare: Answer Virnul.



You knew this would happen. There is no use in trying to delay the inevitable, but you will try. Perhaps you could go wait for your Guardian to return. Oh, wait. That was an hour ago. He is back. You guess you will have to listen.




Blah blah blah blah blah. The next forty minutes are spent learning mechanics of Sburb. After that conversation, you feel quite depressed, and angry at existence.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

>Kalare: Go up to roof.

You stride up the staircase, and reach the top of your abode. Looking down upon everything usually clears your mind. Meteors? Racial annihilation? What were they thinking. Even though you know this, you are certain you will play.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

You head back downstairs, and prepare to download the file Virnul sent out. However, before you can do so, a loud thunk can be heard from the first floor. Great. You sneak halfway down the other stairs to see your Guardian scraping at the thermal hull refrigerator.

A Guardian can be many things on Vetas. Sometimes, they are horrific beasts and/or abominations taken from the third and smallest moon of the planet, Ot'Taer. At other points, they may merely be other elves (usually mutated ones). Very rarely, they may be creatures taken from other planets. Yes, elven technology is capable of long-distance space travel. What is with people thinking elven technology is medieval?

Anyways, you have milliseconds to react before your Guardian leaps at you. Why is he so angry? You dodge his many claws and draw your trusty Vesperium Katana. What, was a spell expected? That is ridiculous. You know nothing about magic.

Vesperium is one of the more durable and dense metals on the planet (Oddly enough, it still remains somewhat flexible), only found on Vetas itself. However, it is only somewhat conductive. It is generally used in the creation of armor plating for the fleets defending the planet, as it is quite good at resisting the gamma radiation of the star that is akin to the Sun, in human terms. This star is closer to Vetas than one might expect, but the atmosphere of the planet protects it, giving a mild climate. By mild, I mean it is going to rain at least one day a week.



=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

You dodge the relentless attacks of your Guardian, an elf with a genetic mutation that disabled his vocal chords. You suppose you feel kinship due to your mutant mind. As you dodge the flurry of blows, you can faintly see your computer screen opened up to Pesterchum. It appears as if somebody is attempting to speak with you. It is a shame you are very busy.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Blow for blow, the process continues along, an infinite trade. An infinite trade indeed, or until your guardian manages to get a well-aimed blow to the hilt of your blade. He then slightly trips; you can see a violet spark or two near him. Odd...

>Kalare: Return to room before Guardian intervenes.

You swiftly rush into your abode, and enter your room once more.



They proceeded to have the shittiest rap battle in the history of Paradox Space.

Without waiting to close Pesterchum, you tab out, and go back to the downloads page Virnul uses, to so whether or not the two games have been uploaded.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

You have no time for this; you download the two files, and run the client. At the same time on your other monitor, you get into a chat with Nelrte once more.

>Loading…

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>Nelrte: Deploy Alchemiter, Cruxtruder, Punch Designix, and Totem Lathe.

Whew. It looks like Araeva actually told him what to do. Your hand inches closer and closer to the Cruxtruder valve...

You twist the valve, and attempt to retrieve the Cruxite Dowel using your Bookshelf Modus.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

You succeed.
Then, you try to remember what to do next.



How does this thing even work? Do you just... stick it on there? That appears to be the case. Now, it is Alchemiter time. You briefly look up into the sky, and-



A gigantic meteor. Great. You suppose you should hurry, and you stick the Dowel on the Alchemiter... it is getting closer...

You pull out the newly-forged Cruxite Tome, and stride over to the edge of the roof, looking upon the lush forests of Vetas, currently burning from repeated meteor strikes. Is this the last you will see of the planet? Perhaps. Perhaps not. You hold up the Tome as the greatest meteor comes ever closer, closing your eyes.





This is most likely the oddest thing you have ever seen. A near-infinite expanse of pure forest. This would not normally be odd, as this sort of thing is commonly seen on Vetas. (In fact, your abode was within one.) No, the strange thing is the bookshelves filled to the brim with scrolls, sheaves of parchment, and books. The shelves are everywhere: within the ground, imbedded in a tree, floating in the air, on the side of a cliff; you name a geographical feature, and there is assuredly a bookshelf there at at least one section of your planet.

>REWIND.

We return to the time in between your entering of the planet and the obtaining of the first Cruxite Dowel, mere minutes before you entered LOPAT. You gaze frantically around. Your Guardian is not dead. What are you going to prototype? Hurry! A... no. In that case, how about a-no, not that either. How about this? You grab an egg you placed in an incubator a mere twenty-one enquier before... and prototype it.

For future reference, a solar enquier is virtually equivalent to one solar day.



Why are you even talking to yourself? Who knows. Phoenixsprite? Hmm...

>Back to Reality, Dunkass.

That reminds you... where did your Guardian go? You just saw him grab a pair of Spatial Distortion Bands, and run off. You shall find him, eventually. Now, it is time to see what there is to do.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

What is there to do? Simple. Look around.
You peer down across your planet, and see what are colloquially referred to as Imps. Perhaps prototyping a phoenix egg was not one of your smartest decisions.

Oh.
Well, then.

They have wings.

>Kalare: Fight.

We will be back a few hours with him, so it may be best to:

>Be Virnul.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Your name is VIRNUL KODROS. You are a MASTER PROGRAMMER, and have created many a DOOMSDAY VIRUS. You tend to be a bit of a PESSIMIST.

You have a variety of HOBBIES. Some include BEATING PEOPLE IN CARD GAMES, LAUGHING AT THE ARISTOCRACY, CODING, and HAVING EPIC SWORD DUELS WITH KALARE'S GUARDIAN. You are simply the best there is in the art of SPACE POKER. You have lost two matches in your entire life, and you know for a fact that the winners cheated. As was aforementioned, you are currently trying to parse runes Araeva found in a sort of Frog Temple, and convert them to code. It does not seem to be very DIFFICULT, but you cannot be certain whether or not you are doing it correctly. You like to fight Kalare's Guardian in amazing sword duels. One day, you hope to best him. One day.

Your chumhandle is catastrophicGovernance, and you tend speak in a completely ordinary fashion.

What will you do?

You glance over at your computer screen. The damn thing is still compiling. It would have been finished a few hours ago, but your Guardian saw it fit to ignite your computer whilst you were talking to AC outside. Your Guardian is a genetic abomination from Ot'Taer coated in flame-filled pustules and nodules. You live somewhat near to Araeva, as was implied. You think you are pretty good friends.



Your Guardian is slowly advancing towards your computer. You have no idea why it hates technology so much. Making a point to swat it off with your psionic abilities, you turn your gaze back to the screen. 91% complete. Perhaps you should log on to Pesterchum on your other monitor while you wait.



You proceed to have a conversation we already viewed. I mean, REALLY? The SECOND you get on... you think you are too popular.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Two hours later...

From what you can see, it is now time to get Nelrte into the Medium. Then, Araeva will get you in, Navela will get her in, Eterne will get her in, and Kalare will get her in. Perhaps it would just be best if you waited a little longer...

>Be Kalare again.

You are now the lord Erelye. At the current moment, you are wondering what to do with all the Grist you have obtained. Who would have known inherently arcane creatures would have more Grist drop from them? Eh, they mostly dropped useless stuff, like Iodine, Amethyst, Chalk, and Mercury. There were a few good things that dropped off of what looked like winged flame berserker imps, such as Shale, Tar, and Gold. At least, you think they are useful. You know what this means...

Vesperium Katana || Pen = Vesperium Inkblotter (20 Build Grist, 10 Shale, 7 Tar)
Pine Branch && Metal Rod = Steel Taigasmasher (15 Build Grist, 7 Shale, 7 Iron)
Laptop && Heap of Elf Will Smith Posters = Freshtop (10 Build Grist, 1 Amethyst)
Knitting Needles && Odd Tome = Aristotle's Twigs (5 Build Grist, 20 Shale, 3 Amethyst)
Vesperium Inkblotter && Inkwork Device = Vesperium Inklancer (30 Build Grist, 15 Shale, 10 Chalk)
Computer && Holographic Emitter = Holotop (3 Build Grist, 8 Chalk, 10 Mercury)

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Actually, this alchemy spree has just give you an ide—well. You were just hit on the head by a stick with some bits of iron attached to either end. It appears as if an imp dropped it. As it raps you over the head, it strikes a bookshelf. There is a sudden flash of light, and the bookshelf is missing, replaced with a leather-bound tome.

You slowly grab the book, eager for a good read. You open the volume, and--

>Be Nelrte.

You are now Nelrte once more, staring at your screen, having entered the Land of Light and Sparks, also known as LOLAS. You can see Kalare standing on your server window, wide eyed and open-mouthed, at a gold-and-leather-bound opus. He seems to be having some sort of revelation. What makes you think that? Most likely how he is re-reading each page, carefully checking to be sure he has not gone insane. Then, he turns on his heels, ignoring the flying imps that were attempting to flay him alive, and enters his abode.



=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

>Be Kalare again.

You are once more Kalare Erelye. You have just discovered something that may change your outlook on the world, if you can prove it correct. Leafing through the pages, you read something, place the book on your Refugilair-side table, and rush back outside, right before the imps. You drive your hand through the air, muttering some sort of incantation. Then, your close your eyes for a brief second. After you open them, you raise your hand into the air, pointing it at the imps. Suddenly, a bolt of psychic energy leaps out from that hand, and strikes all five of the imps, instantly killing them. It was correct. You quickly rush back to your room, and pull out some paper and a pen. Time to do some research...

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Looking back, you think your sudden discovery of the arcane not only was detrimental to the session, but to your social standing as well. That tends to occur when you do not speak to anybody for as long as you did.

There is no reason to wait any longer.

>Future Kalare: Be Present Araeva.

Your name is ARAEVA ATHERU. You tend to be the organized person of your little group. However introverted you say you are, (as you think you are the quiet music lover of the group) you are really not. Then again, you are not a complete extrovert.

You have a multitude of INTERESTS. These include ARTISTIC EXPRESSION, which you happen to be sort of good at, finding things to CREATE in a satisfying manner, and TALKING TO YOUR FRIENDS. You live closest to Virnul, as was stated much earlier. Rather, did. Perhaps you should check what point on the timeline you are.

Your chumhandle is apatheticConductor and you tend to speak without proper punctuation

What will you do?

Nothing, really. You have already entered the Medium, as has your server player. You have already murdered loads of imps and alchemized up some weapons. These imps are getting dangerous. You suppose that is what happens when they are winged, flame-spewing, seven-eyed, ghostly, ninja imps. It is quite funny Kalare has to deal with her. You do not think he has said much to her since a series of near-fatal accidents in the field of Fatal Live-Action Roleplaying. Probably because she almost seared his eyes out indirectly. Speaking of that, it does not seem like Kalare has spoken to anybody for what seems like multiple enquier. You are getting off-topic. You hate it when you do that. You suppose you should change perspective again to complete the intro.

>Araeva: Be mysterious person nobody has mentioned up to this point in the story.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

You cannot be this mysterious person because the mysterious person is currently traveling through time to the near future. Try the other one.

Your name is ETERNE VLZUTU. You are the heir apparent of the "great" Alcari Empire. Still, you want to have some fun. This has led to a great deal of accidents with your friends. One of such includes a near-fatal role-playing accident that nearly blinded Kalare for life. But, that's a story for another time.

You enjoy a plethora of things. Some include PRETENDING TO PLOT THE EVENTUAL DEATH OF ALL WHO OPPOSE YOU, ROLE PLAYING, and looking down on the moon CARNISCA, which you royals have the pleasure of inhabiting, unlike all your scrub friends down on the planet. Well, what is left. Odd red symbols have been appearing and summoning gigantic meteors. These have been destroying most of elven civilization. You DO NOT CARE, THOUGH. Oh waitthereisagiantmeteorheadingforthemoons- Lousy server players. What the hell is he doing? What could he possibly be doing that is more important than keeping you alive? Nothing. Yeah, you know you're lying to yourself too.

What will you do?

You look up, and realize that the machinery need to enter the Medium is on an upper balcony. It has been there for a long time.

>ENTER.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Some time later...

>Be Kalare.

You cannot be Kalare, because Kalare is currently too stressed out about the current prospect of having to face the Black King. You can watch, and still give commands, I suppose. You are not in any control over my memories anyway. As such, I suppose you can be.

You are once more Kalare Erelye.

This is it. Your team has spent at least six hundred fifty hours fighting, dueling, and generally being a bunch of idiots for this. Well, most of you. You have not heard anything from Navela in about five enquier, in fact. You grip Aristotle's Twigs tightly, and prepare to give a speech to your friends.

Walking out of the lower part of the Skaian bunker to the sort of makeshift "locker room" for this mission, you glance at the others. They all look incredibly tense right now. You are too, as the fate of the cosmic progeny of your universe rests in your hands. As you reach them, they all turn to face you. Let us see whether or not this raises morale.



You think that was short and uninspiring. Whatever. You take a deep breath, open the bunker up, and climb out, to a world of chaos. So many Dersites.

>FINAL HAVOC.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Immediately after exiting, you give a hand signal, and step out of the way of the main door. Counting down from three on your fingers, so to tell the others when to get ready.

3.
2.
1.
Go.

Then, the door bursts open, and the five of you dive onto one of the many large levitating platforms. According to ancient books and tomes, this type of place for the final battle is common, in nearly every session.
You straighten up from the dive, and glance up at the Black King. He is a gigantic, winged, fire-sprouting, undead, many-eyed being radiating arcane power. To see his face, you have to look almost directly up. Doing that, you see that you are surrounded on all sides by Dersite forces, even on the top and bottom. Eterne sums it up quite eloquently.



=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Araeva and Virnul take action, firing blasts of pure psionic energy through the waves of pawns, creating an opening, which you all exit through. As the others take action, you finger Aristotle's Twigs. Raising the rods to point at the King, you dodge a shockwave of flames and psychic power. Then, a blast of energy streaks towards him. As it strikes, it dilates upon hitting his chest, diffusing into bolts of electricity that pierce his flesh, drawing small amounts of blood. However this angers him.

His anger is best exemplified by striking at the aggressor with a flame-seared shadow. You leap over it, grabbing on to one of his auric pustules, and stab your relatively sharp wands into it. He howls in pain, and you use this method to climb up to his chest. At this point, a stray pustule (the others being used to distract the others) knocks you off, and you tumble down the 20 meters or so, towards the mass of Carapacians. As you fall, you send a weak jolt of arcane properties towards the Dersites, hoping to get them to spread. They do not. Luckily, you are saved by Nelrte, who happened to be flying by on his Repulselift Boots. You then jump away, just in time to watch Eterne slice through a dozen pulsesicles with her glaive. Revolting. As Nelrte flys off, he deactivates his boots, and drops on the knees of the King. Just as fast, he hacks through sinew and flesh alike with a few quick incisions, through means of his broadsword.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Of course, the Black King is not one to accept punishment like a common dog. He lets off a few psychic shrieks, which immediately blow the four away, back into the reach of the Carapacians.

You flash-step right up to one of the feet of the King, and climb up to the back of one of his seventy Central Eye Clusters. Before anybody can detect what is occurring, eyes and other bits of organic matter are flying everywhere. At this point, you skid down his shoulder, and blast through some Dersites on the way.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

As usual, the soldiers fall back. So simple. Turning around, you see that your friends have blown off a large portion of the torso of the Black King. You suppose it is time to deal some real damage.

As you think this, you raise your wand, firing a blast of violet energy out towards him. The beam is quite thick, about the size of a truck, but more round. Wait, what is a truck? You have no idea, but you think it is probably some kind of myth. Just before the beam enters the skull of the King, he procures his own beam of energy. Oh.

It is about ten times larger than yours. You extend your will, trying to push the other beam back. You succeed.

Momentarily.
Right afterwards, the other blast alarmingly grows in intensity, and tears through your beam like it was naught. You can hear a few people shouting your name, but you cannot make out who they are over the roar of the blast directly in front of your face.

You black out.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Great. Now, you are on Derse. Or, your dream self is. Actually, you have been meaning to do something here for a while now. You planned it with Virnul several weeks ago. You quietly rush down the streets.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

This is the not first time you have been on Derse, though you have barely slept the entirety of the session. You find the dark purple-made streets, walls, and basically everything quite interesting. This reminds you of that story Virnul told about what happened the first time he woke up on Derse. You recall it was about pubs, space poker, and bar fights. From what you know, the Dersite authorities have been looking for him ever since.

The thing is, you really have no idea where you are going. It will all lead up to where you wish to go eventually, so all you have to do is not get stabbed. As you think this, a Carapacian completely covered by shawls and other clothing glances at you, and reaches towards his belt. At this, you rush off, towards a building that looks like a palace of some sort.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

You burst through a side door, and lock it behind you. As you do so, everybody in the room turns to face you. Carapacians that look like guards, and a Dersite who appears to be a person of high standing. Perhaps the Queen? The guards rush towards you. Oh, right. You forgot all players were being hunted because of the night Virnul had. This is going to be interesting. You dodge the guards, and stride towards the Black Queen. All she needs is a brief second, and she has already drawn her lance/cigarette holder. She has the advantage. Dream selves do not have alchemies.

However, you do not need them.

You are a powerful psionic now, remember? Before she can say a word, a blast of violet energy has come through her chest, and out of her back. The guards then rush towards you. Right before they reach you, you grab the Ring. So simple. Oh. The guards attempt to manhandle you, but before they can do so, you awaken.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

You awaken.

Looking around Skaia once more, you see utter chaos. It appears as if somebody had dropped a few antimatter warheads on the place. Currently, the others seem preoccupied with severing the... why does the King have nine heads? He had one when you were knocked unconscious! As you reach for Aristotle's Twig, you realize you have the ring of the Black Queen. Hmm...

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Suddenly, you hear an absolutely... horrific shriek. As you cover your ears, you see the other four of you collapse and fall out of the sky, blood pounding freely in their major facial pores. You close your eyes tight, and wait until it subsides.

You open your eyes, and see that the King is left standing. You raise your head slowly, your glasses glinting in the light of the fires around. Your friends are going to bleed out. There is only one thing you think you can do. Unfurling your balled fist, you reveal the ring of the Black Queen to the King. As you do so, he roars, and begins to shriek once more.

Begins. Not starts.

You place the ring on your finger. Then, you channel energy through it, activating your most powerful attack.

Gray Parsec

Tendrils of gray energy begin to leak from the ring, sparking off violet lightning. The energy quickly extends from your raised hand, at 3.26 times the speed of light. At this velocity, the tendrils leap across the planet in a matter of seconds, and then to the planets. The King looks at you in slight surprise. The entire sky of the Battlefield is caught in what appears to be a mesh of tendrils and purple lightning. This similarly occurs to the planets, Derse, and Prospit, though you cannot see them currently. These tendrils leap through space, piercing though unfortunate things in their way. As this occurs, a stray tendril ends up going through the King, and he has a small fit of agony. You would too, if eight of your heads just exploded from psionic strain. However, you only have one.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Ouch. That sure took quite a bit of energy out of you. By that, I mean you suddenly lose the ability to stand due to lack of energy, and collapse, crawling towards the others. You must see if they are alive. Feeling for pulses, you acknowledge they are all indeed alive. Whew. Now, they merely need an incentive-not any more. You are certain the bang that comes with the falling of eight giant heads to the ground shall work. You crawl a bit further, and pull off the cracked ring, briefly holding it in your hand. Then, the others spring into action, waking up and attacking indiscriminately. At this, you slip the ring into your pocket, and attempt to rise to the ground. However, your legs give and you grab the first thing you can see to support yourself. You aid in the fight, blasting a shockwave of violet energy out of the Twigs. The King looks very sore...

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

A few more strikes...

Suddenly, there is a flash of light, and the sound of clocks. Levitating in the air is... a young elf wearing red clothing with a gear emblazoned on it? Is that... Navela? She waves to you all, and flashes a grin before flying down to meet your group.



Resisting the urge to shout a good deal of curses into the air, you turn your attention back to the King. He raises his scepter up into the air, and the sky begins to... glow?

Oh.
I see.

Thousands of meteors rain down from the sky, the Reckoning sped up tenfold. However, the new rate of meteor downfall is rather swift, as he is then impaled by a spear of psychic energy originating from Virnul and Araeva. With the King gasping his last breaths, you fire one last optic blast, which tears through him directly after the psychic energy. A door appears, and you slightly relinquish your grip on your support. Said support glares at you in response, and you walk off, visibly limping.

A door appears.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Is this it? You rush over to the door, and find yourself in a entirely different world. The six of you are standing on a floating island somewhere near Skaia. The knob of the door resembles the planet itself. A... it is so beautiful. You are the leader, however unwillingly.



You extend your hand towards the knob...

And stop when you are blown back by means of an explosion. Glancing over, you see a mass of some odd gas pouring out of a rift in space-time. There is a flicker, then a flash, then a series of flashes, and some sort of pulsating and morphing sarcophagus.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

You reach out for the knob, but Nelrte and Navela grab your arms. You can see it in their eyes. You need to flee. Now. Whoever that foot belongs to is likely going to try and kill you all. Quickly, quietly, you all rush off into a Transportalizer.

You are now all in a laboratory upon a meteor left in the depleted Veil. This happens to be the same lab in which you aided Nelrte in creating all of you, and your Guardians. You have a feeling this place is a very common refuge for those fleeing from the area of the Ultimate Reward. A place, filled to the brim with Carapacian-engineered genetic abominations in tubes. The innuendo is startling. How dare they leave these weaklings in sexual items? Anyway, the lab also has a collective computer room, and multiple places in which you can use as living quarters.

>END OF ACT 1.

[/spoiler]

Originally posted on 2015-10-23 17:38:00

Act 2 is now out. Hooray, one of the most useless acts of them all.



=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

You walk off, mind clouded by the immense news. You suppose you shall have to warn everybody. Or, you can just tell a few people, and have them spread it on. At that, you walk over to Virnul and Araeva, who seem to be discussing something involving the computer Virnul is currently using.



She walks off, not waiting for an answer.

>Kalare: Get the lowdown from Virnul.



=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=



You walk off. You have spoken to everybody in the room, except for... her. You would rather like to avoid ever speaking to her, but you suppose you have no choice. No use in loosing teammates over petty disputes.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

You attempt to walk past Eterne. Unfortunately, she stops you.



You are done with her shenanigans, for now. As such, you get away.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

You walk over to a nearby Transportalizer, and activate it. This takes you to a higher floor. At this point, you are now in a room containing six other transportalizers, and head over to the one with the purple apostrophized númen-óre hologram over it, activating the device. Now, you are in a deeper part of the meteor. You step down the halls, and spot a chest.

You got the GRAYHOLDIAN ARTIFICE! How did Eterne alchemize this with a glaive, and a Mixed Crystal Cluster? Odd.

Walking along, you spot a slit in the wall, reaching inside, you pull the lever, and step into the side door.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

At this point, you close the door, and seal it once more. You do not want everyone to see your secret hiding-never mind. They have already found it. As such, you leave, and continue to walk around the place.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

You pass by a door you know leads to the project Virnul and Araeva were talking about. Very mysterious. A peek would not hurt...

You open the door. A faint smell of ozone immediately enters you nostrils. Looking upon the spacious room, you see what appears to be an utter mess of things stuck together. Firstly, and most noticeably, there is a Transmaterializer. However, there are multiple things attached to it. A keyboard, a dial, a touchscreen, a few plugs and hydrogen generators, and a... is that a Node Stabilizer? You close the door behind you, and step up to the device. It immediately comes to life. Not literally. The keyboard slides towards you, and what appears to be a list appears.

A, !A
B
C
D

You tap !A, and the screen changes. It now shows the meteor you are on. Hmm...

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Several enquier later, back in the main room...

You cannot believe what has just occurred. How could he have... but... Bluh. No, what are you talking about? Build has not died. That would be ridiculous. No, no, he must be fine.

You move your mouse, and see that there is indeed a bullet hole. Why did the Doc do this? The fucker just shot him! You are going to go over there, and murder him yourself! He just killed... he had better die for it.

How… !A? Still. Surely you can bring him back. Some sort of resurrection spell. There must be some way...

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Several more enquier later...

That cueball-headed bastard has just gotten a dragon to fight you! And kill you! Well, there is always Pax Minecraftia.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

>Be Ms. Seceip.

You are now Navela. You are kind of watching some random films online.

As you finish the movie, you close the tab, and get up, walking towards the exit of the main computer area, towards your room. You cannot help not noticing that Kalare is behaving strangely.

Strangely, in that he is shouting about a "Deceptive cueball-headed little shit." You bet he cannot even hear the rest of the lab. The combination of his shouting, and whatever sound is coming through his headphones is likely blocking outside disturbances out.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

What the hell is he talking about? You had better go ask.

Right before you open your mouth...



What is he whispering? You have no idea.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Oh, for fuck's sake!

Kalare is blasted ten meters back through the room, before slamming into a wall. His computer screen is currently glowing with violet light. A spell gone wrong? (For future reference, it went exactly how it was supposed to.) Hopefully not.

You see Nelrte walk over. You rush over to Kalare's unconscious body.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Perhaps it would be wise to-

>Be Kalare.

You cannot be past me, for he has not yet woken up.

>Kalare: Awaken.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

You open your eyes-



=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

My goodness. This is quite tiring. You assure Navela that you will not use that level of deadly dark magic. The spell was powerful enough to affect you, as well as Minecraft.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Some time later...

You are back to your work. That is, you are back to GodCraft, on a day merely twenty-four enquier away from your Nostaurë. That is, to say, in human terms, that the date is 7 October. Whenever that is. You are currently contemplating this... thing. The Law of Murphy, they call it. You think it might be wise to just... stop thinking about it; go on a walk, or something.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

You take your headphones off, adjust your glasses, and exit the room, not bothering to see how the others react. Then, you walk down the stairs.

As you step down the stairs, you think you hear something. Was it... no.

HONK.

Oh no. Oh my.

Wait... No, you must be hearing things. You have heard that before. Yes, that is it. Whew. False alarm.

You have now entered the Laboratory. So many memories here...

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

But, they are not necessarily positive.

>Kalare: Flashback Time.

>Be Past Nelrte.

You are now mister Avlcan. At this point in time, it has been approximately three enquier since you entered the Medium. However, you have a hunch that you should go into the Veil. Why? You do not even have the slightest idea.

Spotting a nearby meteor that looks somewhat accommodating, you fly towards it with your Rocket Boots, and deactivate them upon the surface. May as well explore this place. You walk over to the nearest building, and enter by way of the door. Who would have guessed it had a door?

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Something about this place seems... off. There is a fine layer of dust over everything. Wait. Everything, except for these footprints. Following these footprints, you end up at a door, left ajar. The trail of footprints extends through this doorway, and down a staircase. Being the brilliant investigator you are, you sniff the footprints. They distinctly smell of pine trees and parchment. What in the world!? You are in the Veil, not some sort of library for morally ambiguous theoreticians! Actually, for all you know, you might be.

Suddenly, you fire your pistol directly into a wall. All is silent for a second, until you begin to hear whirling gears and the beeping of advanced technology, just like some of your favorite science fiction films. The sound is coming from down the stairs, and seems slightly muffled, like a door is blocking the sound.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Stepping down the stairs just before the door, you can hear... bawling? What in the world?

You open the door to reveal Kalare pressing a button. Immediately, twelve newborns vanish.

>END FLASHBACK.

>BE KALARE.

Yes, that was truly a horrifying incident. Clearly.

END OF ACT 2.

[/spoiler]

Originally posted on 2015-11-01 00:57:00

Act 3. Slightly less useless, more plot-relevant.



=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Sailing towards the center of the moon of Derse, you mutter the incantation, a violet tail trailing off of you in a manner akin to a comet, along with the blood. You streak towards the center at an ever-increasingly alarming rate. Giving one last mutter of the incantation, you give up. May as well face your death, then.

Wait. What in the world is that? You seem to be heading towards some sort of... light teal slab? What in the world? Hah. Mundane thoughts pass through the minds of the imminently deceased.

Oh, thank goodness. The slowing spell seems to be taking effect.


















Unfortunately, it is not nearly enough to match your current velocity, which happens to be near the speed of sound, and increasing. Suddenly, you remember the figure before you went to sleep. Probably Eterne. Back to more pressing matters. Oh, right.

The last thing you feel is the cold, hard surface of the slab.

Everything goes black.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

>Be Eterne.

You are now a cold-hearted, lowlife, murdering sociopath.
You do not even care! That bastard of a wizard disrespected you one time too many, and look where that got him! One life left. Idiot. He actually thought he would be fine. Or, perhaps not. You do not particularly care. Of course, none of this is true, and that was all a massive joke to yourself. You're actually not that bad a person. Kalare is just exasperated by you for an inexplicable set of reasons.

>Wake up.

You wake up, slightly frowning to yourself. Back to another boring enquier of doing what you do every single enquier. Examining the universe you created, and aiding the players there. Everybody seems to do this. Even Erelye did, though he was much more focused on that bogus game of his. You head to the main room to get back to work.



Wow. That was sudden. You half-listen to the plan, not even bothering to look over at Araeva. Your plan is much better. It involves this new universe you created, and the players of Sburb in said universe. You can faintly hear Nelrte interject. Something about "what do I do?" Princes of Light are not needed for this kind of thing. What could light even do in this situation? As far as you know, photons do not harm the demon whatsoever. Hah.

What you do notice, however, is about Nelrte. You have not seen him since Kalare got blown down the stairs. Come to think of it, that was the first time in months you had seen him. That is probably because he has been unbelievably rage-filled since the demon appeared, and wrecked the game. The slightest thing just sets him off now. Whatever. It is not as if you interacted with him much anyway.



And, with that, Nelrte storms out of the room, muttering obscenities.
Of course, you are thinking something along the lines of "Yeah, cool, whatever." Araeva just sighs, and gets back to work on her plan.

>Be Nelrte.

I fucking knew it. Those goddamn *motherfucking* shitheads just got rid of me.

I think we shall try him later. For now, we can just watch.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Quite frankly, you are tired of all the shenanigans of the others. Of course, we could just

>Be Virnul.

You are now Virnul Kodros. Now that Kalare has left the area, you are in charge until he gets back. His orders, of course. You glance around at the room. Kalare and Nelrte are absent. Navela and Eterne seem to be using Pesterchum, whilst Araeva formulates a way to kill that demon. Hopefully, she succeeds.

Everything seems fine. Now, you can get back to work. Well, not really. You are just coding for no real reason.

$ uiii ohmygoddontcompilethis.~ath
trifurcate THIS[THIS, THIS, THIS];
import universe U4
import universe U5

~ATH(U4) {
~ATH(U5) {

~ATH(THIS)

} EXECUTE(~ATH(THIS));
} EXECUTE(~ATH(THIS, THIS));

} EXECUTE(~ATH(THIS, ohmygoddontcompilethis.~ath))
{} EXECUTE(~ATH(THIS, THIS)(NULL));

THIS.DIE()

You think that was not a waste of time, for once! You shall call it...7.~ath.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Now, you can just relax. You close your eyes, and sort of just sit there, thinking.

What in the world is that stomping noise coming from? You open your eyes, and behold the visage of Mister Avlcan.



=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=



Oh my. He actually thinks he can take English? (I am using his name for clarification. Nobody here but me actually knows who the demon is.) English would annihilate all of you. At once. Within five seconds.



He draws his brand new rifle. What did he call it? Oh, yes. Ahab's Crosshairs, you think. Your eyes slowly heat up with burgundy psionic energy.



HAVOC!

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

You levitate into the air, a burgundy aura coating you. However, the Crosshairs begin to light up as well, an aura of Light beginning to permeate the area around Nelrte. Then, you fire psionic eye-blasts of a caliber yet unseen in this universe at Nelrte, whilst he channels the energy of his new god-weapon. He fires, and the two blasts leer ever closer.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Navela, Araeva, and Eterne look over at what is occurring, realization dawning on their faces. They look on, horrified.

The psionic beams meet the blast from the rifle, and the internal room is then subject to a near-blinding flash. However, the two Strifing can see perfectly. Magic versus technology, perchance? The psionic beams push the blast from the Crosshairs back slowly, driving Nelrte back. However, all three blasts subside.



You glance back over at Erelye, resisting the urge to kill Nelrte right then.

Kalare looks far worse for wear. There is what appears to be a levitating keyboard (the instrument) mixed with gears spinning around him. His left hand has a hastily-wrapped cut on it, which appears to have come from slightly brushing... a stop sign? What? You can clearly see a bronze wand sticking out of his pocket, a bolt of violet, green, and Grimdark energy leaping off of it occasionally. How...? He still looks slightly damp, as if he had leaped into a storm, and made it to the eye before getting too wet. A small bit of powder-blue energy floats off the wand.



Eterne looks stunned, as if she had just seen Kalare die and come back an hour later. Of course, that did not happen. Clearly.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Kalare looks at Navela, mutters something about interuniversal portal breakthroughs, a clown, mind wraiths, a fourth wall, and some other things involving a ship called the UOSS Preston Cole. You have no idea what he is talking about.



You glare at Nelrte. Then, Kalare walks off. It is only a matter of time until Navela realizes that he still has a Clockboard. She runs after him, and you chuckle.

Nelrte opens the door to the Alchemiter room, enters, and locks it. Look at him, trying to obtain a more powerful weapon. Hah. Anyways, that duel brought you back to the good old enquier, back when you actually had some things to do, like on Derse.

Of course, your session had a very odd Prospit and Derse. You, Kalare, and Eterne are Derse dreamers, whilst Araeva, Navela, and Nelrte are Prospit dreamers. See, there was a bit of... competition between the two groups. This, of course, led to mister Erelye sleeping for the first time in who knows how long, and a game of chess ultimately culminating in a war between the two groups. That is why you spent several weeks doing absolutely nothing in your session. You were all too busy strategizing, creating weapons, and fortifying lunar defenses. Then, three weeks into this cold war, Nelrte rushed in and attempted to burn the Dersite palace down, thus beginning real conflict.

Prospit had the advantage, with their three especially imaginative minds, whilst you were all stuck with record players and libraries of rather dark books. Kalare spent an enquier reading all of those ancient texts. Of course, during that enquier, the three of you planned the ultimate ending to the war. You would rush in, fight your way to the palace, and slay the White Queen. This was met with considerable apprehension due to Eterne devising it, but you went through. Eterne and a mass fleet of Dersites swarmed the planet, and you went with Kalare to assassinate the White Queen.

You were successful; you landed the final blow yourself, and the ring fell, and fell, and fell, reaching orbit of the planet inhabited by Araeva. She, being the Space player, had the Forge. The ring was destroyed. Personally, You think this is why you failed the game, but you are probably incorrect. Of course, whilst you spent your time fighting wars, the Kings fought their own, resulting in a slightly premature Reckoning. Fortunately, you, Araeva, and Kalare banded together to get your quests done, aiding each other with the requests and demands of the Denizens. In particular, you hated your Denizen, as well as that of Erelye. Typheus and Cetus, respectively. Those were odd requests-you do not think either of them are even possible.

Of course, at the request of Navela to help re-strengthen the bond between Prospit and Derse, Erelye entered the realm of her Denizen-alone. He came back out looking deathly grave, even though he could not comprehend the tongue spoke by Hephaestus.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Well, enough remembering. In fact, you think it is time you meet somebody you already know. This is the version of somebody from your universe.

>Be Jack Noir.

You are now Jack Noir. I could go on and on about your life, but you do not have any time. You are a very busy person.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Okay, it is actually just because you are a douche.

You started off in the session like any other: arranging taxes, parking tickets, et cetera. Your mere existence was to suit the needs of the oh-so-exalted Queen. In short, your life was hell. So, you did the sensible thing, and rebelled. Fought your way out of the palace like a cornered sewer rat with a bowl of steaming hot cheese. Broke out, hundreds of those little fuckers after you. You would have been slain, if it had not been for the timely manipulation of that Erelye kid by the cueball-headed one into warring against Derse. You stabbed quite a few people, broke into the Prospitian prison, and freed HG and CD, who had been sent as 'emissaries.' You considered leaving CD until you realized he was so stupid he would literally blow holes into things by accidentally dropping explosives. Needless to say, you 'borrowed' his explosives, and there was suddenly a massive hole in the side of Prospit.

At this point, you realized direct confrontation was not the way to go with this. Sadly, this meant no more mass stabbings. Alas. Woe be you.

However, the moons were too busy fighting each other to know-or care- about your plans. So, you sort of wandered about, getting people to gather information for you, and oversaw the conflict, watching, plotting. A few enquier before the beginning of the Reckoning, you returned, and the people rejoiced, having just found one of the only people with the authority or grit to lead the miserable place, as the Queen was locked up in her palace. You told them all to shut up and get to work. Then, you went off to Prospit, towards the direction of the White army. You did what the Black King was incapable of doing, and stabbed the White King in the chest. Repeatedly. Until he bled to death. Discarding the Scepter, you went on a murderous rampage, and began killing wildly, until you were captured by the mass Prospitian forces. Luckily, those idiots are too nice for their own good. You broke out en route to Prospit, and reentered the orbit of the purple planet.

Unfortunately, you were slightly sidetracked, and ended up at the planet of the hero of Space. The players thought the ring of the White Queen had been destroyed here, but they were incorrect. You found it floating near the Forge, in orbit. Then, getting back to Derse, you showed it to the Carapacians as a trophy. Of course, you did not put it on. What would people think if you started romping about as a gigantic tentacular beast with wings, nodules, and other assorted mutations? So, you went down to the royal vaults, and grabbed the best weapons you could find. Some legendary crap, and some plain stuff you found rather practical. You got Tectrixcalibur, the Razor of Occam, a Cast Iron Horse Hitcher, a lighter, and the Sica ac Divitiis. From there, you slowly ascended, mere minutes before the end of the Reckoning, with intent to slay the Black Queen once and for all. Unfortunately, as you got into the main room, it appeared as if the Erelye kid had beaten you to it. Almost. Strangely, she survived, and you were forced to enter the mean streets of Derse, along with the other agents. From now on, the Queen would run the planet alone. At this point, you took a little journey to The Battlefield, and reclaimed the scepter of the White King, as well as molten fragments of the scepter of the Black King. You returned to Derse once more, this time hiding your trophies.

From there, your little group of four agents was exiled to V2 (the name of my universe), along with a rather large amount of Carapacians. Of course, what the Queen did not realize when she attempted to send you to your death, is that you are far more resilient then her. The wreckage of the elven planet and its moons (save the green one, which was oddly already inhabited) soon became a massive cityscape.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

From there, you went about, doing a great deal of things. You sold those legendary weapons, as well as the scepter and ring, keeping the horse hitcher, the lighter, and a dagger. Of course, the masses of exiles repopulated Vetas about 211 loä after the decimation of the planet via Reckoning. It should have been 1011 loä, but that idiotic Droll messed up the systems needed. This is where you are now; a planet now coated in a singular city, inhabited by Carapacians and... them. The shady leprechaun-based gang known as The Felt, and their leader, who, according to popular belief, comes from the future.

The Dignitary approached you with a deal last night. He had recently received a letter from the enigmatic man who lives on the second moon, (you think it's called Forion, but you don't know, or care) within the green city. Apparently, this man wishes to have an audience with you two, and has requested that you both come. DD suggested that you both go in, listen what he has to say, and then burn his place down. The Felt live on the green moon. If you are lucky, you can take them out with said fire. You agree to this deal, and immediately set off to the nearest shipyard.

You make it to the green moon, and the two of you meet HB and CD, having arranged to get them to aid in your taking out of the Felt. It is decided you will distract the strange and powerful man whilst the others generally muck around, and scatter the gasoline.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Here it is. DD says something along the lines of 'good luck, and don't die.'

>Jack: Knock on door of Doctor.

You step up to the door, raising your hand to knock on said door, when suddenly-

Hello, Jack. You rang? That was a joke; I don't have a doorbell, remember? Haa haa, hee hee, hoo hoo. Won't you please enter?

The door swings open, and you contemplate bonking Scratch on the head with your trusty horse hitcher. You feel like you have done that before. Whatever. You will do it again. Give the man the respect he deserves. And, get rid of the first bit. Pleasantries are boring.

Oh, for heaven's sake.
Jack. Stop it.
Jack.
Jack.
Archagent?

Which would you prefer I call you? It's one of the strange points of uncertainty which surrounds you. Maybe it is that you don't particularly care whether I call you by name, or by epithet. Your flair is for the plain and serviceable, isn't it? Not much vanity is tied up in a title, I'd guess.

Not going to tell me? Fine, I won't tell you my name either. Well, I might, if you would just show some courtesy and stop flogging me with that ridiculous horse hitcher. I won't crack. If only it were that simple.

You're not going to stop, are you. It will be very difficult for you to savor the candy I have reserved for you, discuss mutual points of interest, and state why I have asked for you to arrive here at such a late hour.

Do you have anything at all to say? Any form of communication you care to attempt beyond the sound cast iron emanates? Of course you don't.

The man your are ruthlessly drubbing grabs your cast iron horse hitcher, and bends it in half.

I see. You do not have a need to go through with the pleasantries because you think you already know my name. You do not know my real name, Jack, even if all of your little green adversaries know yours. You only know my nickname.

He proceeds to go on some rant about his name. Lousy omniscient beings. Then, he hands your horse hitcher back, twisted into what appears to be a pretzel.

Here. Jack, why don't you help yourself to some candy over there on that table? I need to take care of something; I won't be long.

Yes, Noir, placate yourself with the bottomless supply of Scotty Dogs. His supply is limitless.

When I am finished with this particular interruption, we will resume our gentlemanly negotiation. You will then order your surviving subordinates to attempt to burn down my apartment, and I will act accordingly. Afterwards, I will explain to you why I have requested you come here, and you will once again attempt to burn this apartment down. I will then proceed to beat you severely until you agree to what I ask. I know you won't take it personally.

Now, please excuse me. I have to greet the future self of a being with vision omnipresent.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Two seconds later...

Please pardon my preoccupation. It slightly exceeded the second I had planned for it.

Seeing HB in a nearby doorway nodding to you, you step back a little. The Doc seems unsurprised by this event. Then again, he seemed unsurprised by the gasoline that was sprayed into the room earlier. You take out your lighter, ignite a match, and toss it onto a a nearby gasoline puddle. In fact, you think Scratch is too busy talking to the omnipresent being to even notice this. In fact, whilst this occurs, he goes and fills up the Scotty Dog bowl. Then, he casually walks over to the fire alarm, and slowly pulls it down. Of course, he is slightly too late. Everything is on fire. Even then, a leprechaun with a yellow hat displaying the numeral one comes out of the door.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

The leprechaun immediately springs to action. You see a blur of color, and... what is his name again? You do not particularly care, but you think he looks like an Itchy.

Anyways, you see a blur of color, and the flames are suddenly doused! You grumble to yourself, and hold out your pretzeled horse hitcher. A loud bang can be heard, and the leprechaun slams into the floor, due to suffering head trauma. Would you look at that! The force of the blow actually de-pretzeled the hitcher!

Now, now, Jack. It is very impolite to kill the host's subordinates.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

A few more leprechauns peer into the room. One with a blue hat, and one with an orchid hat. You bludgeon the blue-hatted one to death with your horse hitcher, and the other runs off in a hyperactive jig. Afterwards, a leprechaun with a red hat comes over to you wielding a crowbar. You knock him clean unconscious, and steal his Crowbar. Then, a person far taller than a leprechaun, clad in black clothes radiating cosmic energy and a wide-brimmed black hat, steps over the bodies to you. You look at her. She looks familiar, but you cannot quite place who she is. Obviously a Dersite Carapacian. 8? Hold on. This... this is...
Oh dear. How? Hold on... of course. She was a stowaway on your ship to your exile on !A, was she not? You hate this... this... Snowman beyond human comprehension. A human, for future reference, is a mythical pink creature akin to an orangutan without hair. Yes, I know. Very abnormal.

Anyways, the two of you glare at each other as two archenemies would. Slowly, you walk towards her, Crowbar in hand...

Stop.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Please stop. I am serious... Jack?

Of course, the Doc is drowned out by the silence. The two of you, as you have now realize that she is your 'wise and just ruler,' have discarded your weapons, cigarette holder and crowbar. You engage in revolting hatesnogging.

Oh my. Oh my, oh my, oh my. This will not do, not at all.

...

Allow me to placate these interrupters.

The old Doctor pushes the Queen away from you.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Jack, while I have invited you here to better perceive the skills of your numerous enemies, romantic impropriety of the most disgusting kind should be kept to a minimum. Please try to keep this in mind.

Oh, for crying out loud.

You have just lit a match, and dropped it onto the gasoline-stained flooring by 'accident.' I believe a facepalm times zero combination would be in order in this particular occasion, but I shall not.

Luckily, the sprinklers come on and douse the flames.

So, you take a few more matches, light them, and toss them on the floor; they do not cause any worthwhile damage. From here, you grab the Crowbar, and smash the nearest things you can find. A table, the wall, an expensive-looking painting, and a chair. You narrowly miss a violet vesperium laptop that appears to have the Tengwar symbol for the stem ER on it.

Jack, I can tolerate many things from a disruptive guest. Curt manners, atrocious candy bowl etiquette, murdering the help, egregious womanizing, and repeated casual arson.

Scratch goes over to a closet, pulls out a Discipline Broom, and returns.

But it is the near-destruction of another welcome guest's possessions where I must draw the line. I'm afraid I must now insist you take your severe beating quite personally.

> [o] SKULL.

The moment the broom strikes you again, you feel a searing heat in your face. A literal internal fire.

> [o] BURN.

A green aura about the Doc, he slams the broom into your face at such a trajectory that the blow knocks out three of your teeth. The aura oxidizes all the iron about the two of you (except for the horse hitcher), essentially setting you ablaze.

> [o] And so on.

(Of course, that referred to the SKULL. Burn. tick tock Hah. code that young master Erelye used to create the !A Doc Scratch. Anyways, the Doc snaps the broom by way of smacking you over the head with it.

I thought I could rely on you of all people, Jack,

He uppercuts you through a nearby window and onto a large manor.

to fire this single shot, and do what it is you do best.

He pulls a very deadly magnum out of the holster it was contained by, and points it at your head, slowly spinning it around to face his head.

You are not supposed to kiss her, Mr. Noir.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=



Now leave, and never darken my door again, by my invitation or otherwise.

A voice in your head tells you to shoot the magnum at the person you despise the most in the universe.

Doc Scratch pushes the magnum into your hands, and teleports you away before you can pull the trigger. You are now in the mean streets of the green city. The only contacts you have are the other three agents, and you think you have just been given a mission to slay all of The Felt.

>END OF ACT THREE.

[/spoiler]

Originally posted on 2015-11-01 01:39:00

Act 4. We're slowly approaching a point where everything isn't composed of remarkably terrible writing. Hooray. Mild Harry Potter references.



Of course, she is grinning.



The two of you grin slightly at the joke. Then, you walk over to the large table in the center of the room, and sit on one of the benches.



You listen for what seems like hours, though it is likely just over fifteen minutes. Now would be an excellent time to try out this bottle of... you have no idea... that you alchemized earlier in the day. You grab a mug from the table, and fill it with about a third of the contents of one of the nine bottles you alchemized. Then, you take a slow, long drink.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

About an hour later, at nearly twelve thirty, Navela is still going with the piano, clearly unfazed by your presence.



She turns around, and looks at you, clearly annoyed.



She looks over to the mug, and examines the contents. She cannot place why they would be so entrancing that you would interrupt her.



>Be Navela.

You are now Ms. Seceip. Normally, this would be a bizarrely rare privilege, but you are... preoccupied, to say the least.



Honestly, you are surprised. You did not think your leader would actually drink that stuff...



Quite frankly, you think the best way to get him to leave to allow you to play in silence is to remind him of a promise he made to you earlier that day.



=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=



=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Wow. He must be very devoted to have been that anguished about it.



He regains his composure.



He nods.



He stumbles a bit getting up. How much did he drink?

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

The two of you walk in a relatively straight line across the meteor, making few turns. A few times, you have to catch his slim body before he slams into the floor. The two of you are completely silent along the way.



Your friend stops suddenly and abruptly, slightly confusing you.



You use up a fragment of your Bauble of Illumination to project a levitating little orb of pure light. Kalare probably could have summoned one without breaking a sweat, but he... yeah. The both of you can now faintly hear what sounds like arcane blasts and psionic energy colliding.



=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

You look him in the eyes, fully expecting a drunken smile to appear on his face, or some other confirmation of jokesterism. You do not. For the first time in... who knows how long... Kalare Erelye looks... afraid.



You need to say something, right now.



Then and there, your friend tells you. He speaks of the vile agendas of the horrorterrors, of the voices of the imminently deceased, and of the brief glimpses he has into the future when thinking about deeper synaptic causality.



He shrugs.



For the first time in what seems like days since you were in the piano-room, he smiles at you.



Quite frankly, you are terrified right now. There is golden and burgundy flashing coming from the vents, and your best friend is apparently insane.



He puts his hands on your shoulders.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=



His mouth slowly twinges upwards, his eyes glinting in the dim light of your lesser light spell.



His face slowly drifts towards yours. At that, you wrap your arms around his waist to better get a hold on him.

Suddenly, you hear a shout, and a scream. The unconscious body of Virnul is blown through a nearby door, and Nelrte steps out of said door, holding the... wand Kalare uses... Nelrte looks over at the two of you, a look of apprehension upon his face. He steps towards both the two of you currently intertwined, and Virnul, an insane look in his eyes. He raises the wand in your general direction, and it begins to let off violet smoke. Then, you can hear the tiniest 'Oh]' you have ever heard in your life, accompanied by a sudden scuffling of the ankles of Kalare. He tumbled out of your grasp, falling past all the stairs, a grin still on his face as he soars past the steps. This accident leaves you alone with a clearly sociopathic elf.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

>Be Kalare.

You are now the intoxicated (both ways) master wizard, lying at the bottom of a staircase in pitch conditions. Fortunately, you can feel the effects of the alcohol dissipating, slowly. Now, to go up there, and stop whatever is going on. You get up, and rush up the stairs, stepping over five steps per stride. Now, at the top of the stairs, you are currently standing right next to the unconscious body of Virnul. What happened here? Hold on... how does Nelrte have the Hazel Wand? You have it in your Sylladex... oh.

Oh dear. Luckily, Nelrte is slightly preoccupied, staring at Navela, and vice versa. Navela has her weapons out, and they are both expressionless. You grab Virnul, and drag him down the stairs, careful not to let... any of his teeth break off, or something of the sort. Then, you return to the top of the stairs. Araeva, Navela, and Nelrte all have their weapons out, as was before. If you are lucky, the Seed will not get destroyed. You know, The Seed. The one thing responsible for the fast recreation of your race. Oh, you could sexually reproduce, but it would take a long time. Nelrte sees The Seed, a scowl still on his face. Suddenly, said Prince of Light fires a projectile from your wand. It strikes and annihilates The Seed. You watch silently as Araeva and Navela charge towards the traitor. Nelrte, in a swift motion, blows Araeva background the hole he made in the door, and she strikes a table in the Common Room, and is immediately knocked unconscious. However, Navela, with her chainsword, is a far greater threat. All is still for a few seconds, until she charges. Nelrte points the Hazel Wand at her, and a clean circle of ash appears on the wall behind Navela, along with large amount of red. She slumps onto the floor. Wait... WHAT?!?!?!?!

Red pooling down the stairs, you leap down, grab Virnul, and dash off as fast as you can. A flash crosses your glasses. Great, somebody is contacting you.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=



Really, now is not the time. You need to get up there. At that, you [and your 'cargo'] rush up the stairs once more. Nelrte is nowhere to be seen. You lay your friend down beside you, and stride over to the body of Navela. Noticeably, you are no longer drunk.



Wait! There is a method of resurrection available to you! With slight tears obscuring your vision, you bend down, and examine her wound for a second, before sitting her body against a wall. That was neither heroic nor just, so she should be fine. That is all you can do. You grab Virnul, and run off. In the distance, you can hear a button being pressed. Suddenly, everything goes black.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Several hours later...

Bluh. What happened? Oh yes, that is right. You think the meteor might have hit something in the Incipisphere. You open your eyes, stand up, and walk into a side-closet you know leads to the outside. When you reach the apex of the staircase, you see a world populated by large amounts of light and gold. Great. The meteor hit the planet of Nelrte. You check your glasses, scanning for any your friends who happen to be online, waiting for response. You find one.



Very well. You sneak into the nearest Transportalizer, go to LOPAT, and begin to wander, speaking to consorts along the way.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Where in the world are you? You have been tracking the aura signature denoting luck. And pixie dust, but those two are interchangeable. Anyhow, it has led you to a large forest around what appears to be... a gigantic staircase with a Mind symbol glowing at the top. Whatever this is, you can sense Nelrte is close. You draw the Quills of Echidna from your Needlekind Specibus. Your Strife Portfolio includes Wandkind, Needlekind, Bookkind, and Swordkind, for future questioners.

You can hear him. Heavy footsteps, in the direction of the staircase. You stare at the staircase, and see a... PULSATING BLAST OF YELLOW ENERGY STREAK TOWARDS YOUR FACE?! Rolling out of the way, you barely dodge the blast. Then, you see him. Holding the weapon which took enquier to plan and longer to create. Quills in hand, you speak.



At that, you both leap into action, firing blasts of pure magic at each other. Two white blasts, one pulsating yellow Green Sun blast. The three meet, and cause a massive explosion, blowing you back. Of course, Nelrte appears to have had far more practice than you, and stays on his feet. Regardless of who is more skillful, you leap back up, and fire curse after curse at the bastard, dodging and weaving past spells in return. Nelrte seems to be... destroying your luck to win? Perhaps.

Up the staircase the two of you go, firing hex after curse after spell, not really caring where they land. The others, even with their presence upon other planets, can likely see this. Around the middle of the staircase, the two of you raise your wands. Staring at each other. Waiting.



Nelrte's face twitches down into a scowl. He then fires a jet of green light out at you, and you Apparate away. Then, you swish both of your needles back and a jet of red light streaks out from both of them. Nelrte fires another killing curse at them, and the two blasts collide. You inexplicably feel the two spells link via Priori Incantatem, and see a long... chain of red and green light colliding. Around the point where the two intersect, a large amount of spell residual foam is being formed from the various sparks flying off both ends. You grip the Quills tighter, forcing your mind to focus. Still, despite your best efforts, the curses remain constant. Bolts of static electricity dance off the ends of all three wands. The force seems to be pushing you back slightly.

The two of you desperately attempt to break the connection through various swishes and flicks, but naught seems to work. Then, Nelrte pulls out a round jar of some lime fluid faintly glowing. Wait.

You do not, under any circumstances, use the wildfire.

He tosses it into the air swiftly, and then places his hand back onto the Hazel Wand. The jar falls towards the sloping ground and shatters, expelling the foul liquid everywhere. A stray spark flys off the link, and you attempt to break the connection with all your might. The spark ignites, and green Wildfire spills everywhere, causing a massive explosion. You duck behind a slit in the pillar holding the staircase, and wait for the blast to subside. You leap out as it does, only to see Nelrte twisting and twirling the Hazel Wand. The Wildfire shockwave congeals together, forming a massive serpent of some kind. Your eyes widen.

The serpent leers before you, and lunges in a split second. Then, you twitch the Quills forward, and the beast of flame slumps too the ground, exploding in a flash of light. You take this opportunity to gather the remaining flames into a ring around you, and blast them at Nelrte, both of you still slowly walking up the stairs. He flicks your wand, and the blast dissipates around him. Immediately after, he flicks the Hazel Wand, and a wave of dark energy speeds towards you. Gaseous Tenebrae? Really? You arc the Quills forward, keeping the waves at bay steadily. Time seems to slow down. As per usual cast of such vapors, Nelrte is experiencing a large buildup of Flux. Unexpectedly, he releases it in a blast that vibrates out to thirty meters past the pillar, transmuting a few hundred thousand leaves into glass shards by way of Mutatio.

You match this blast by breaking the chemical bonds of all the air above Nelrte, obtaining a large amount of hydrogen, nitrogen, and oxygen. You fuse the former and latter together to create a large amount of water, which immediately falls down on your enemy. You twitch your needles, incasing Nelrte in a sphere of unmoving water. Desperately trying to find a way to distract you, he drags all the glass shards towards you. Several hundred thousand glass shards streak towards you, and you quickly transmute every single one of them into sand, which flys at you, and douses the Wildfire. You cover your eyes, and streak two endothermic reactor curses in the general direction of Nelrte.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Of course, he anticipated this. One blast of Morgul-flame is all that is needed to dispel the Magifrost Unmelting. However, you know how the mind works. You know which neuron clusters are necessary for function. You know which techniques are needed to manipulate these. As such, you smite him directly in the chest with a bolt of lightning. This should temporarily disable his arms. Oh, dear. You have no luck with this. The temporary deactivation wears off almost instantly. However, it was enough time to pull off one of your Fraymotifs. You sense his movements as if he were you. Every neural impulse, detected. You then pulse a brief electrochemical signal to his brain, and he takes a step to the left, slamming into the pillar wall.

This is all you need to disarm him with a well-placed spell. You grab you wand once more. Of course, he still has the Crosshairs of Ahab. Oh. He shoots directly at you, and you weave out of the way. However, you channel the power of the Abyss, and teleport Nelrte back to his planet. Whew.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Now, you suppose you can get back to her, if you so wish. You sit on the edge of the Quest Pillar.



=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Ah. The present appears to be several months into the past. For the universe you created, at least. That brings you back... back to a time with considerably less chaos.

>Kalare: Flashback.

You are now a you several dozen enquier in the past.
Your group of subordinates has discovered something... intriguing. Apparently, Araeva was sent 5082 Boonbonds. This is an obscene amount of money, and she wished to find the source. So, Virnul rerouted the server connection, and found the other end. A member of a race from the universe you created!

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

You quickly load up the Viewport (as this is a modified version of Pesterchum that is named something in Quenya, but I choose to translate), and enter the coordinates of the person that sent you the money.

Your theory is that all races involved with GodCraft will have a Sburb session, and oversee the development of an alternate human race. It remains to be seen whether this is accurate or not, though you are likely being an idiot. So, who is this young lady?

>ENTER NAME.

You have a sudden urge to put something utterly pointless into the terminal, but suppress it. No idiocy is permitted at this point. Instead, you type in something more... productive. And, by that, I mean you have just seen Zoey Lefebvre for the first time.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=



So, what will you do? You could sent her a hate-filled message at the end of her timeline, or you could do something legitimately productive. Productivity is key. Now, from what you know, it is time to get your chat up.



=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=



=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

At this point, you had second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth conversations that the author is currently unwilling to write. So, I shall provide a monologue instead, and have those as later flashbacks.

The Bb1 session, commonly referred to as Earth Minor, lies within the multiversal cluster of universes containing the Genesis Frogs of V1, V2, and B1B sessions, some of which do not yet exist. Other orbiting dimensions include the realm of Darnalucus, and so on.

There is one major difference alienating session B1B from universe B2. Well, eleven. The lacking of eleven beings, which shall be referred to here as Messirs Egbert, Egbert, Strider, Strider, English, and Ms. Harley, Lalonde, Lalonde, and Crocker. Plus a good dog, who was replaced by an entity of considerable power, named . Instead of the nine- four children, four adults, and one dog, there were others... in the exact same positions, manipulated by the fates of their patron elves. Of course, for now, I shall merely focus on Ms. Lefebvre, and her grandfather; however, her three friends and their guardians are worth mentioning as well. Overall, their session was doomed to fail, due to the creation of their ectobiological relative, their First Guardian. He, in a fit of rage, annihilated most of the B1B session, forcing the four children and two remaining guardians to flee into the core of Skaia, where they were protected by their Void player until the present time. Now, back to something more... interesting; the flashback.

So, this human is rather... odd. She does not look as if she has three Boonbonds, much less 5082. Well, who is this young lady?

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

>ENTER NAME.

You see no reason to put a derogatory statement in. Zoey Lefebvre, then.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Hmm... You assume she has obtained The Game now. Perhaps it would be beneficial to inquire upon the state of the game Sburb. Either way, you suppose it is time to

>Be Ms. Lefebvre.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Your name is ZOEY. It is currently your BIRTHDAY, though it was not previously mentioned. A number of PAPERS and posters are scattered across your room, along with a plethora of writing and drawing utensils.
You have a variety of INTERESTS. Primarily, you enjoy acts of ARTISTIC EXPRESSION, usually for fun. You are very embarrassed when your older SISTER sees it. You do not know why. You have a fondness for CREATIVE WRITING as well, though you are not particularly good at it. You also like to READ particularly good Dungeon Punk-esque modernized stories involving magic. They do not embarrass you, for some reason. They do get your mental cogs turning, serving as the basis for what is essentially WIZARD FANFICTION. Of course, good characters include the illustrious DUMBLEDORE, or perhaps MITHRANDIR. On special occasions, you play VIDEO GAMES with your friends.

What will you do?

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

>Zoey: Retrieve arms from desk drawer.

There are no arms in your desk drawer. Your arms are, in fact, attached to your body, like those of everybody else.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

>Explore the house.

You leave your BEDROOM. Across the hall is that of your SISTER. You do not usually go in there. At the end of the hall there lies a small window. As can be clearly seen, it is storming very heavily. Perfect weather for your birthday. You are not being sarcastic. Luckily, your house has not lost power. Perhaps you should check the time. Ah. Eleven thirty-four. Seems like an okay time for a near-midnight snack; you are slightly hungry.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

You make your way down to the pantry, and pull out the first thing you see. Sitting down on a nearby chair, you begin to nibble on the thing, pulling out your laptop. Oh. Somebody is contacting you.



=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Some time later...



Wow.

>Cease being Zoey.
>End Flashback.

You are now a standard third person Ererrator. Hah. What occurred here is crucial. The Mage departs. The protégé enters. She alchemizes a few weapons and other utilities. Then, she asks what to do next. This is where we are now.

>Be Kalare.

You are now one of the elves, sitting on the edge of your Quest Pillar, near your Quest Refugilair. You know what time it is.

It is time for the final battle.

OR IS IT.

>End of Act 4.

[/spoiler]

Originally posted on 2015-11-01 02:17:00

Act 5. The end of Disc 1 for the plot. These discs don't really mean much. They are primarily used in retrospect for me to show where my writing is poorly-done, and when it is normal. Hah.



Very well. They shall be on their way. You activate your stolen Clockboard, and skip to when they do arrive at your current position.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

You skip ahead approximately seventeen minutes, nine seconds, and forty one milliseconds. Three elves stand in an intersection. A look of surprise passes over the two you did not inform. A look of relief across the other.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=



The two get into an argument. At this point, you turn to Virnul.



At that, the two of you walk over to an edge. You begin glowing violet, and he burgundy. Giving one last glance at the others, you both leap. Falling down until you are seven meters above the lava, the two of you soar across the magmatic ocean, a grim determination on your faces. You can hear shouts from where you originally came from, but that is to be expected. For now, you soar towards the Temple in which the Quest Refugiliair of Nelrte lies. Deciding it would be best to have an advantage, you land on an obscured platform above the Temple. Then, you weave your Rune of Translocation into the air, and drag Navela and Araeva through reality to here with it.

After explaining as to what had occurred, the four of you quietly dash towards the Temple. You advise Araeva and Navela to go in the back. They do so. Finally, you and your best friend stride in through the front entrance.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

You raise the Hazel Wand upon entering, and wait, peering into the infernally dark temple. You can hear a scuffling noise. You look, and see him. There he is, standing there, weapon ready. The two of you charge into the fray.

Spells and psionic eyeblasts firing every which way, you dodge and leap past curses. Violet, burgundy and gold psionics tear through walls, and leave bare clockworks exposed. This is the work of three masters of the arcane. After having blocked a particularly nasty Strangulation Hex from Nelrte, you realize why he is not dead. And, by that, I mean you see his Quest Refugilair open, with the dead body of Nelrte in it. So, that was why he was wearing this orange Prince garb. You thought it might have been for show. So, he is actively destroying your luck. You fire three Binding Curses at Nelrte in rapid succession. He deflects them all. At this point, it would be wise for you to break his shield. As such, you divert your curses into vaporizing his shield. This is only slightly strenuous. Unfortunately, this means that you cannot attack. So, time for Virnul to attack him.

>Be Virnul Kodros.

ROUND THREE.
HAVOC!

You fire a psionic eyeblast at Nelrte, as Kalare has disabled his shield. Nelrte, in response, fires a golden stream of energy at your blast. The two meet in midair, and sparks begin to fly. Slowly, you levitate into air, as does he. Concentrating, you focus all your might into making that blast strike him.

>Be Kalare.

You watch the magnificent display of sorcery, while still keeping the shield down. Suddenly, your acute elven ears pick up... footsteps behind you. Slowly, you turn around... to reveal somebody in Witch of Heart garb. Eterne, then. Bluh.



You stand there, staring at each other for a few seconds. Of course, she is likely going to backstab you. As such, you take the initiative, and draw the Hazel Wand, muttering an incantation. She raises her eyebrows. Manipulative thespian, that is what she is. A spark flies off your wand, looking like a curse, and Eterne blocks it, turning towards you. You lunge at her. Suddenly, you both disappear.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

You reappear on your Quest Pillar, as does Eterne, due to the Rune of Translocation you created earlier. Flicking you wand to the side a little, it becomes its innocuous sword double. She pulls out dual swords (strangely composed entirely of Vis Crystals and corotite), and uses them to block your slash at her. At that, you both leap into action, Eterne realizing that there is to be no negotiations. She has a fighting style on which it is extremely difficult to deflect attacks. Nonetheless, you wield your innocuous sword, and block the first strike, immediately leaping into the air. Looking up, you can see Lomal in space, and the Temple. Well, you can see two figures off in the distance, floating above the place. The only way you noticed them is by the golden and burgundy psio-beams and auras the size of large houses. They are seriously fighting it out. In fact, you can see on the planet below... Navela and Araeva fighting what appears to be… innumerable gray drones marked with what appears to be the alchemical symbol for antimony?

Anyhow, you land once more, and the three blades slam into each other in a mess of parries, swings, slices, and other blows. You deflect the first blade swinging at you with a loud *clang,* and instantly swing your sword behind yourself to strike the second one. The two of you weave through the cocoons of swinging blades and your twisting psionic blasts, swinging at each other. Eterne then arcs both of her blades at you in a fluid motion, and you then block them both with the flat of your blade, pushing it upwards to counteract the downward push. You then let go of your blade with one hand, (still holding it with the other) and fire a bolt of psionic energy at her with said hand, taking advantage of her swing downwards, thanks to your sudden lack of strength to keep the blades locked. Eterne catches the blast on a Vis Crystal upon her sword, and charges you. As such, you flash-step between a stray psionic blast from Lomal, and a stray sword swing, stabbing upwards.

Eterne instantly blocks this attack, but is blown back by a stray psionic blast. Standing near the center of the Quest Pillar, you hold your sword in your right hand, pointing it down to the ground with a slightly bent elbow. She stands at the far edge of the Pillar, holding the twin swords in a masterful manner. Then, she lunges at you, and you parry both blades. Leaping into the air above her, you land directly behind Eterne, and she brings both blades slamming into yours. Then, you flash-step in front of her, and spin around, holding your blade with both hands in a downward direction, glasses glinting in burgundy and gold light from the orbital battle above.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Bringing down your blade, it misses your intended target, and sinks into the floor. That is one detriment to having the sharpest weapon in all of reality. Drawing it out with some effort, you bring the blade up just in time to deflect a dual bladed attack. With all your psychic ability, you drag the blades out of the hands of Eterne. Unfortunately, this pulls your sword out of your hand as well, embedding it into the floor, locking the three blades in place. You stare at each other for a few moments, until Eterne shrugs, and leaps at you, flailing about like an insane person. She gets you into a rather comical headlock, and continues to flail about. You urge your sword to telekinetically impale her as she does this, but the thing is unresponsive. As such, you attempt, with all your physical weakness, to force her off of you. Needless to say, you are unsuccessful.
Oh. Right. You telekinetically drag her off of you. Then, you begin to levitate into the air. What? You did not... fuck.



A ball of a sort of grape light appears in her hand. She points it at you, lightning crackling off of it. Suddenly, it vanishes.



>Be Virnul.

You are presently locked in psionic combat with Nelrte above Lomal. Energy blasts are flying about from all directions. Narrowly avoiding a golden blast, you fire a burgundy one in return. Nelrte fires off another, which intercepts your most recent attack, and you fire off another in return. You can feel that bastard trying to read your mind. Luckily, he is not succeeding. Suddenly, you see a large amount of Alternate Erelyebots flying upwards, away from the surface of Lomal. Hold on... weren't Navela and Araeva fighting them?
Looking down, you see...
Oh. Oh fuck. But... they will resurrect. Navela is a god tier, and she can breathe life into Araeva. Hopefully.
Turning away, you fire a relentless barrage of psionic energy everywhere, striking down opposing blasts, and drones. Arcing your hand down, several of the other planets that are not Lopat and Lomal glow with a faint light. Swiftly, they speed towards Nelrte. In response, he slams the other two into them, narrowly avoiding being crushed. That was loud. The planets in contact begin to break up. You can see a... fuchsia light in the distance. Ah. The temporary sessional converge. You fly towards Nelrte.

>Be Kalare.



Suddenly, multiple planets crash into each other, nearby to the duel between Nelrte and Virnul. Flaming rubble rains down onto Lopat, interrupting the soul-stealing. You slam into the ground, gasping for breath, wide-eyed. You sit up.



You stop short when you realize that Eterne has managed to grab her swords from underneath yours. Likely teleportation. She steps over to you.



And, with everyone currently living watching, she stabs you with both blades in the chest, letting go of them, and grimacing. You stare for a few seconds, as everybody else is doing. A grayish blue color stains your black shirt. You collapse to the floor after a few seconds, unable to say anything out of shock. Slowly, your vision gets more and more blurry.

>Your name is Kalare Erelye, and

YOU ARE DEAD.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

>Be mister Kodros.

You stare at the twice-impaled corpse of your leader, the body to tumbling to the floor, blades still protruding from its stomach. You endeavor to give it as much thought as the other two dead in your party. Which is to say, as little as possible. At that, you look back at Nelrte. Anger pulsing through your veins, you fire an absolutely gigantic psio-blast at him. Deflecting it, he speeds towards you, golden Prince of Light aura trailing behind. He reaches for you, and you fire what elves call the 'Magnus Arcanum' of your energy, a monolithic blast of burgundy energy streaking towards the sky at near the speed of light. Nelrte barely fires another lightblast at you in time. The beams meet. Multi-chromatic sparks spewing out from the intersect, you focus. Priori Incantatem, they call it. A dome of Alternate Erelyebots surrounds the both of you. The golden light is slowly reaching your end. With all your might, you slowly push the thing back. The sparks slowly, twitchingly reach the end Nelrte is floating at. Yes.

Suddenly, a large Light symbol appears. You feel... as if you are being drained of something. The link dissipates. Nelrte points his hand at you in a manner akin to Darth Vader (not Elf Darth Vader. That is ridiculous. Elves have the normal Star Wars). You feel the air rushing out of your lungs. Gasping for the sudden lack of oxygenated Breath, you feel as if you are slowly drifting towards something. Looking forwards, you realize. With Nelrte's hand around your throat like a fist of solid orichalcum, you look at your enemy. No grim smile lines his face. Merely determination. Then, you realize that he is at-

SNAP.

>Your name is Virnul Kodros, and

YOU ARE DEAD.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

>Be Eterne.

You are now a bloody murdering- that's enough.

Anyhow, you see a body tumble to a walkway on Lomal, head lolling to the side in a grotesque manner. And then there were two. You move the corpse of Kalare slightly. Then, you grab one of the blades in his cold chest, removing it with a sickening squelch. Pointing the bloodstained blade directly at Nelrte, you wait. Challenging him. In the distance, you can see the fuchsia-tinted universe speeding towards the planetary rubble orbiting Skaia. The mixed crimson liquid with hints of grayish-blue coating of your swords slowly oxidizes, becoming a candy red. You prepare to leap at the murderer. Suddenly, a pulsating light speeds towards a bit of planetary rubble. As the stuff fades, you can see a golden sarcophagus, grinning in a thoroughly horrific manner. The top slides off, slowing grinding against the other half of the container. A hulking green figure emerges. You duck behind a large rock. In a flash of green light, something happens. Then, you hear pulsations and see horrible flickering lights, and a constant green one. Peering above the rock, you see the demon having a staredown with Nelrte. You duck behind the rock once more, and begin to hear muttering. Then, you hear the sound of a machine gun firing, and see another flash of multicolored light. Peering above the rock once more, you see the sarcophagus sliding shut. Maddening eyes of billiard briefly stare at you, until there is a flash, and the thing vanishes.

You see another lifeless body tumbling through the air, riddled with hundreds of bullet holes.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

You realize something. There is a sudden lack of fuchsia light. Well, that is not true. It has been absent for at least three minutes, which is conveniently the amount of time it took for both Virnul and Nelrte to die horribly. That is likely why there are four new planets orbiting another Skaia some few hundred miles away. And several people flying towards your Skaia. Whatever. Perhaps you should act slightly quicker than you are now. Picking up Kalare's corpse, which happens to already be sickeningly cold, you toss it over to another part of the Quest Pillar. You kind of hope this works.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

For a minute or two, Kalare's body lays very limply against the Quest Bed, one of the two swords still sticking out of him. Slowly, you draw it out, blood splattering on the floor. Faintly, you can feel the four players of the session you created watching from within their planets, and the remaining Dersites watching from their moon, which has been dragged out of orbit near Lopat. The six white orbs atop their metal pillars begin to faintly glow. Over in Derse, you know the dream self of Kalare is currently on his Sacrificial Slab as well. Just in case. Actually, you can see the Slab from here.

The light from the orbs steadily grows brighter and brighter, to a blindingly bright level. At this, you can see the four new players turn their heads your way, staring at the planet above, at the light. Peering over at Derse, you can see the Slab. As the dream self of mister Erelye appears to have expired now as well, it begins to levitate into the air, a light teal spirograph appearing around the circular Slab. Then, the bloodstained dream self levitates into the air, limbs hanging limply. The spirograph twists and follows him, before encircling the body. The glow from Derse's spirograph becomes unbearable as well, bringing it into the focus of the new players as well. Wait. Navela seems to have revived as well! Good. Not a heroic or just death, you suppose.

Anyhow, the dream corpse of Kalare flies directly into the source of the blinding light.
The light begins to slowly fade from both spirographs as they disappear. You look up at around the same time as the new human players and Navela do. Alas, still only light. All staring, the light slowly disappears. There, floating within the spirograph, glasses lit by the teal light, is Kalare Erelye in Mage of Mind garb.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

He stares down for a few seconds. His gaze sweeps over you, coming to rest on his own dead body a meter or two behind. Cold anger appears to radiate from him. He does not show it, but you can certainly feel it. Then, he flash-steps over to the catwalk where Virnul has come to rest. Muttering, he bends down, grabs the body, and kisses Virnul to bring him back to life. Satisfied, he teleports over to you, but not before giving a reassuring nod to Navela. She begins to fly towards the two of you. And, by that, I mean that Erelye is standing three feet away from you, eye slightly twitching.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Navela lands on the pillar just as Kalare telekinetically pulls his sword out of the ground, transforming it back into a wand. Virnul gets up finally, and begins crawling over to the point where the corpse of Araeva is.

>Be Kalare.

You are now the wizard. The Lord-Archmage, or, to shorten it up, the lord Erelye. You have come back from the dead. You are supposed to feel great, right? Wrong. You have had a minor migraine the entirety of the time you have been alive again. It is not as if you have not had these repeatedly, but it is still mildly annoying. You hold the Hazel Wand, staring at your murderer. Mind games are certainly fun. Then, you begin to attack. Your spell is cut off by both an onslaught of soul and... time magic. Wait, what? Is somebody else here? You feel somebody tap you on the shoulder. You turn around to see... Navela. She is alive? You believed she had died down there- oh, right. God tier stuff. You telekinetically lift her hand off your shoulder, and put it at her side, your hand briefly brushing past hers.



=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=



At that, you wait for mister Kodros to return. Much to your surprise, he does not come alone, but with a revived Araeva. Odd. You thought your malignant God-Author decided to kill her off--I mean you though she had perished. Whichever. You inform the two of Navela's plan, and they seem relatively pleased with it. As such, you decide to split up into groups; Virnul and Araeva will go to the planet of the odd slam poetry artist and the planet of his best friend, while you and Navela shall go to the planet of your disciple, while Eterne will go to the planet of the somewhat mad gothic fellow alone, for she is capable of excellent evasion. You part ways, flying off. The planet of miss Lefebvre is quite coated in water and ice, as well as a large amount of foliage. In the distance, you can see a green light, growing larger. That had better not be their First Guardian. For future reference, the First Guardian of Universe B of the Aralous Cluster, Bisievert, went rogue, deciding to annihilate all of existence with his omniscience and omnipotence. Why? You have no idea. All you know is that the katana-wielding fellow is infinitely more powerful than you, and should be avoided. He is likely just killing wildlife. They call the being "the bane of rats", as he has single handedly removed the fourteenth, fifteenth, and seventeenth Great Rat Kings of the land of Avius. He shall henceforth be denounced as a horrendous murderer for the remainder of the Era of Rats in Avius. If it exists.

(It doesn't.)

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

You stop flying abruptly, and motion for Navela to do the same. There is a large flash of green light, and then silence, minus the sound of rampant flames. The two of you land on the edge of the forest.



You both draw your weapons, and creep through the forest edge. Slowly stepping into the destruction zone, you can see walls of green fire, melting ice, burning trees, and slaughtered wildlife. Suddenly, in a flash of green light, a young man is teleported (against his will) before you. He tumbles to the ground, a blade in hand, cursing.



He then proceeds to run off, but not before flipping you off with both hands. How kind. Of course, he does not realize that he is heading towards the gravity intersect, and will be pulled towards Lopat. Whatever. It will be to your benefit. As such, you merely head deeper into the mess of organic matter and flame, Navela BEHIND you. Hah. Then, there is another flash of light, the sound of Mark cursing repeatedly about 'he brings you back,' and what sounds like three swords colliding repeatedly. You dash into the foliage, and wait, wand in hand. Then, the bush you are in ignites with green flame. You flash-step out, to see... wait. No.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

When the smoke clears, Mark and the First Guardian are gone from clear view. Striding out of the bush, you see-



There, lying in a pool of her own blood, is miss Lefebvre. You sprint over to the nearly still body. Then, you pick her up, rocking her gently against your chest, checking her pulse.



Navela then puts the thing down, you both get in, and the thing takes off. Flying off, Navela turns to look back at you. Zoey begins to grip the fabric of your shirt (you did not particularly like your God Tier outfit, so you decided to wear normal clothes). Navela grimaces when she notices the right hand of Zoey is missing little and ring fingers. This is likely where most of the blood came from. Then, you hear a voice, quieter than a whisper.



You mumble a quieter 'No.' The car is approaching the meteor, still embedded in Lopat.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

You land on the meteor, and you stride down to an entrance, Navela in tow. The two of you walk down the halls, unconscious body still in your arms, dripping blood everywhere. You reach the door to the lab, and can hear jubilant voices behind. The door unseals, and the two of you walk in, heading for the other exit. As you pass the six other people, you can hear both fearful and surprised whispers. Somebody attempts to say something to you just as you leave the room, but stops as you leave. They realize this is not a particularly welcome time to speak.

You reach the medical bay of the meteor. The door unseals, revealing two orderly lines of medical apparatus and elevated patient containment slabs. You see Navela look at a slab down the line, coated in Nightmare Fuel, with bandages strewn about. That is where you went after you cast that spell on the Enderdragon. Unfortunately, the Nightmare Fuel is now highly unstable, and summons beasts whenever you touch it. Therefore, you deposit the bloodstained girl on a nearby slab, and hook up a few devices, monitoring vitals and blood levels. You loosely cover the girl with a blanket, obviously avoiding placing it on her head. You look at Navela, a grim look on your face, as you realize you do not have any medical skill. Luckily, the medical bay slabs do most of the work for you. You just have to get robotic replacement fingers, and bandage the stumps up, for now. As such, you pull up a chair, and get out a laptop, waiting.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

All is silent for a few moments, until you notice Navela staring at you, with a half-quizzical, half depressed look on her face.



She nods, and then quickly exits the area. You sit there for several minutes, watching both the monitors and your laptop screen. At this point, you realize that it is quite cold. Well, I would say 17 degrees Fahrenheit is quite cold, especially for people not wearing any layers. Despite the fact that you do not usually feel the lack of heat, you can notice this. However, you stay. Finally, you can see that Zoey's heart rate has gone back to a normal position. You wrap her two finger stumps in bandages, watching the fabric slowly turn red. Finally, you put your laptop away, and stand up. Before leaving, you place your hand on the slab, near to the arm of the recuperating girl.



You exit the medical bay, and head to your room.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

You enter the aforementioned room, and peer about. Within lies your Refugilair in a secluded corner. First and foremost, a compact wand recharge/nodal power station charging a large fraction of the objects in the room. Next to that is an outlet where your laptop usually goes, right next to a bookshelf filled to the brim with both modern and antiquated books, and a locked saxophone case. You carefully plug your laptop in, and stand in the room, looking at the Hazel Wand, lying on the vis injection device. It briefly flickers an odd green light, becoming a silhouette to deep space. The Other Gods wish for you to slay with this weapon, as you have done countless times before, and They usually get Their way.

You turn, and exit the room, heading for the outside. You make it to the surface of Lopat, and stride off in a random direction, feeling the stinging cold as it bites into you metaphorically. You ponder what you have done with your life.
Was it worth it?
Have you made the right choices?
It does not matter much anymore. What has occurred has occurred many times in Paradox Space, and will continue to for the rest of eternity, long after you have been dead and gone for millennia uncounted. You do not matter. You stride to a pool of water, shimmering in the pale light of the Skaian nighttime. In the reflection, you merely see a very tired and pale elf with messy hair and glasses. You take a deep breath, and continue to wander, noting the cold. Off in the distance, you can only see more trees, with the occasional bookcase embedded within. This is pointless. You head back to the meteor, blocking out the whispers of The Wand as you enter your room. You glance at the lavish bookshelf for a few seconds, before grabbing a random book, somewhat large, and quite new-looking. You then exit your room, and head to the common one.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

>Be Kalare.

You are now mister Erelye. Having just left the common room a minute ago (having skipped ahead two hours), you feel... absolutely amazing, for the first time in your ignominious life! You slowly stride down to your room, your current mental state easily bypassing the will of the Wand. You open the door, and step in, locking the thing behind you. You step over to the table holding your laptop, and open it up. A violet Tengwar 'er' symbol appears on the screen, as does a loading bar. The computer swiftly loads, bringing you to your desktop. Passing over Cetus, Pesterchum, and Sburb on your browser, you click on a spirograph icon. You realize that now would likely be the time to cut the act, and start speaking in first person again. So, there are many things that are still not in order, such as the matter of Zoey, and removing Lord English from the session. However, I realize those shall have to be examined at a later date, as I am currently quite busy. Besides, I should likely tab out to Minecraft now, and get back to GodCraft. However, there is one thing still left to do. Upon my clicking of the spirograph, a screen dominated entirely by a Yes, a No, and a question appears.

>EJECT DISC?

>Yes.
>END OF DISC 1.

[/spoiler]

Originally posted on 2015-11-01 02:47:00

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I did not initially intend for this to be a coherent intermission. These were all primarily small storyposts and reactions to things I did post-Act 5 in DTG2. As such, I have split each series of storyposts into chapters. Enjoy.

EDIT: Sadly, it appears as if this is far too long to post whole. Check below for further chapters.



And, at that, I stride out of the room. Instead of heading towards my room, I wander off in a random direction, staring at the floor, and thinking. I head towards the exit to the meteor laboratory, noting how frigid and cold the halls are. Arriving at a staircase, I climb up, and am faced with a door, which I promptly open, step through, and close behind me, to reveal another door, to which I reach towards the handle. However, before I can do so, I am met by a loud banging, vibrating the door, and a stream of profanity. The voice is familiar. I slowly open the door. Before my eyes, there is a young elf, approximately 9 loä (13 years) old. She is dressed in green clothing, and has quite disheveled elbow-length black hair as well as startling hazel eyes. She appears to have traveled quite some space to get here.



Without a response, she barges through, into the slightly warmer halls of the meteor. I momentarily stare outside, downwards, off the meteor imbedded within the planet, and to the planetary pine forest of Lopat. Then, I close the door. I gesture to the staircase, and we step down it, one trudging with disparity, and the other striding with nonchalantness.



I provide a somewhat lengthy introduction to my name, who I am, and why I was on Forion.



Carasi doesn't seem satisfied with that.

Carasi and I walk in silence for the rest of the trip back to the common room. Just before we reach the door, I hold out my arm, blocking her from entering. She looks at me quizzically, and slightly angrily. I open the door slightly, and step in, for a moment.



Virnul nonchalantly walks over to me, and I step right next to him, whispering into his ear.



I quietly open the door, and Virnul passes through. I enter myself, and shut it behind myself.



Carasi looks at Virnul for several seconds. Virnul doesn't seem to be particularly 'into' the moment.



We both shrug. He strides off to a certain room, and I follow, matching his pace, as does Carasi. We arrive at a door, which I open, striding in. The place appears to be a bedroom that has not been used for quite some time. At the sight of this, Carasi walks in, pushes us out, and slams the door in our faces. Wow. At that, Virnul and I take out separate paths to the common room. Nobody asks what we were doing, and Virnul gets back to his programming. I return to my computer, and get back on Minecraft, grabbing my book as well.[/spoiler]



Virnul straightens back up, clicks an icon on his desktop, and tensely waits. Just as a tab pops up, he types something in, and then relaxes, slightly. I get back to my research, and everything is silent, for several seconds. Then, suddenly, Araeva throws her arms into the air. Virnul and I exchange looks, both of surprise. Then, he gets up, and strides over.



She looks over to Virnul, a smile on her face.



Upon hearing this, I leap out of my seat, and stride to where the two are currently present. Araeva's Viewport tab shows a dark cathedral quite clearly in a dream bubble. Araeva zooms in, to rest upon a singular room. In the room, there is a very large amount of nothing. Gothic architecture, and a singular object of interest beyond that. A small pedestal composed of stone, with a curious object levitating upon it. A scepter fashioned of Voidmetal, in a style akin to Emerald Nova. However, instead of a model(?) of the Green Sun upon the apex of the tool, there is an inert-looking sphere of tinted orchid glass. The scepter spins lazily above the pedestal.



Virnul leans in, trying to get a better view of the scepter. I do so as well. That dream bubble seems rather obscure. There is a high probability that we will never find it, according to the whims of paradox space. Whilst the three of us stand in silence, examining the viewport, somebody enters the room. Of course, I do not know this. I turn around, however, and see an incredibly sleep deprived Eterne standing at the doorway. She yawns.



Eterne shrugs nonchalantly, and walks over to the three of us.



She peers over Araeva's head to examine the screen.

[/spoiler]

[/spoiler]

Originally posted on 2015-11-01 03:47:00

Second half of Intermission 1.



The force of the explosion tears a hole in the red sphere. I fly up to it, peering within. Amidst the dim lighting and dark red bricks is a sort of long, cylindrical hallway, leading up to something. I fly over swiftly, looking at it. It appears to be a large carving resembling a captchalogue card.



My eyes sweep over the carving, examining the engraving. It appears to be a rather large image of a... star.



Nothing follows for several seconds.



I decide it is time to end this conversation.



I continue to examine the inside of the red sphere. There do not appear to be any hieroglyphics upon the walls. Regardless, the carving was certainly a good clue. I float out of the place, and slowly levitate the village back into its original location, leaving the iguanas unharmed. I proceed to scan the landscape for any other ways to gather information. There is one thing. I accelerate rapidly in a particular direction, towards the sounds of an adept psionic lifting a meteor into the sky. However, I stop before reaching the meteor, and land on the ground, directly within another iguana village. Some iguana appear to be meeting, wearing bedsheets. How do they even get those things? This planet does not contain any bedsheets whatsoever. Perhaps they alchemize them. Beds are ridiculous. They do not provide an adequate reprieve from psychic emanations. Anyways, I stride over to an iguana's house, and enter. The family within seems rather surprised at my entry. My eyes sweep over the place. I open a cupboard nearby, revealing a white orb. I hid it here quite some time ago. Before we defeated the Black King, actually. I carefully grab the cue ball, close the cupboard, and exit. I do hope they do not alert any forms of consort authorities. Perhaps the fact that I'm wearing a black shirt, generally dark colored clothes, and holding a deadly wand in my hand do not help my case. Regardless, I clamber onto the roof of a nearby house, and sit down, staring up at the meteor, levitating into the air, and exuding burgundy light. I grab my laptop out of my Sylladex, putting the Hazel Wand away. I carefully place the orb down. Luckily, this roof is relatively flat. Anyhow, I contact an... informant.



I look back to the meteor, only to see it rise towards the gray clouds.



I pick the cue ball up, holding it carefully in my right hand. I stare into the ball, momentarily casting a spell of Light.

KALARE: What should I do next?

Slowly, the answer emerges.

HELP YOUR FRIENDS.

I stare at the answer, before wordlessly captchaloguing my laptop, and flying up towards the meteor, cue ball still in hand. My search for answers shall continue, in time.[/spoiler]



What have I missed? I don't want to know, actually. Likely large amounts of their normal routine. Eterne speaks first.



I see. So, Navela wishes to figure out who killed me. Hah.



Virnul's eyes shift around, as do Navela's, Araeva's, and Eterne's. I stand up, feeling the full physical strain of not moving for several enquier, and being dead, unable to stand straight. I lack the strength, at the current moment.



Everyone stares at me. I adjust my glasses slightly.



I wave to Virnul, noting the small grin dancing across his lips, before striding into what appears to be the general group area where the four were conversing, just beside the door. Navela looks directly into my eyes, rather surprised, before essentially crushing my currently weakened skeleton with some sort of sudden hug.



I nod, sliding the Hazel Wand into my pocket.



Glancing over to the door, I note that Carasi stands within the aperture, somewhat confused. She walks into the room, stopping next to me, before muttering something to the effect of 'hi.'



Everyone is silent for several moments. It would be reasonable to assume they all believe I am completely insane now.



Navela glares at me, and people begin to shift, taking their votes. Virnul sides with me, as does Eterne, surprisingly. On the other hand, Araeva walks over towards Navela, apologetically saying something about 'unhealthy obsessions;' Carasi, after much deliberation, sides with Navela as well. Several of the others arrive at this time, and are informed of the situation, and side with Navela.



Everyone disperses. After a few minutes, I walk over to a particular seat.



Eterne winks as I leave, a playful grin upon her face. I walk over to my desk, and continue with what I was doing pre-death, beginning a conversation with Virnul in the process.[/spoiler]

[/spoiler]

Originally posted on 2015-11-01 05:06:00

Given the sheer amount of signatures and other bits I have written and have posted, I have deemed it prudent to store the more plot-relevant ones here. So, without any circumlocution, have this. Everything is in spoilers due to the fact that I have not bothered with the actual posting go the encrypted text itself, as the fine people at the memo have already decrypted it all. I will only post encrypted things if they have not been fully figured out themselves. Feel free to discuss and determine meanings, if you so desire.

II. CRYPTOLOGY.

The earliest one I'll deem plot-relevant was around a month ago. I'll just go onward from there.





[spoiler=Notes]
[spoiler=I Húna Parma Excerpts]
PREAMBLE AND CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE (5 VÍRESSË, 2015.)



Lcpdw, jltv pislky. Rss hwakyoi y ggvmytxspsbovgw gj qwa hki pislouz xfmk, iy fhy fenm pblx kefimlw xm xmzt h eepkw isvnrr sx jgyl sd zszovnw rlakquxwq mfbu pgxcpdqmpupc whmkja. Vckszjsxwq, cgc gyx lcvw, vud. Pijgguk.

P llypd wva ms ziyqt aamq xguk dbxf e hzkhffji, gn yvkxq. Ifkrvlib aabnpg pgik bnl xrrmjmzf hj kc jmyltval svj kbwasnmxpxw, mj opoja xfijm gyx eqwmzkkec kefg. Zox qcxzwjz nxgpahkk br rlw lozvstijg um lyal cvudeibkw egz tx rmemy bgwavmxashyq, efl xpvl gr wnlvkx. Dsj enhm mr'w owxaa. Md cgc gyx hgwycyaxh gr sve dtc zc kcio mlgrya, O dhyjh slbpli wsm lxvi xfmk juvd mkqwlohmijc, tcxu rssv fwzll sl xzm ipilcv makk ms biuzewm xfmk, itk yspkwb zotx gx wdky xbgwlmj.

~

Ejpge sl ms qxjmyz mlgw. Mbosbdc xzm rhlx iiq qt aai dsmvjhmmmr gn zox rcbl, wx fhy umdt mlm rmazmxl.



[color=#fff]SE
Roi, jrta ole bmsfqnwiaiel rdrduiks.

Dzgezopy ui qy eoyduzw, I qigogixedzh ubjr a tdhdqi mnexvibomoz rmttdr ttz hebols aa en Qghruogh Yjroxdxh ezelqy ewmt mn fci dqkxhe jj ttz Zouy. Uuuoi pxvmnxt, xhq herwdrge nxafzh "-kmi yt pvvaeoiez, miu pvvae nyn, fzv'tqm'xid." Vw ie kpauipy awziapw, ttzwe izve ojsrpdrafzw ta v vafcir ekicuamc bjmnf dr sbvge, xdoext ypai xhq qirk nirhzv or hc rqnmdqige.

Mn snq rsuxy ixbzgt, fci lmoxed mimmmo ie v tadomcggerxt sbezuuujys eoetqhinf rlioc vesvvduik wuol suigeddxy ogiadgc stjas m xirfvmn pzkrqz sf eoylfdpocpinoz. M rqaysq os bqgmtfgi ttz mnfzplqxx or oloez glqqir qisusc xo pzgibcir fcms.

U ced rjplarid apx wuol sqvvctdrg fci laxetujr dumicfgc ubjr rqoyrzdrg fj xhq Jzedrsrxy, enp asuzy rofcmns jj pmmxioppad drtqmisf. Ole xjgafdsn un glqvvlk cmdpzr ubjr azjxhqm aodgh, od zzez hylfdtlq rsrxyw.



EN
Sr axlzei, U bru vax tyev bti ycjea fs fpjmmx xa mcymd aapuua mx ffn kqyi, dcwumdmze jeg mxfcvgb fs dcevix xtc bvkdif mo kpq gamauqzefcb r ukwfcap. Paaqtni, qf fqyaj uqrfgxeqzk ffjk btiec lfwdhuljkme wqcv kw xmzc dg euxt rqv ∆-γ zurs kjg. Bti ukycqoefgxea aj esly iz soadizqroc jim grrycywyenjn. Jktsxyaj pmzq znvv eimplyqzk rma rv mreuni ba wgaq r btmze ofz osglccmew qrnivuxucb. Zb rmssava flmr cym bidqxe ba julm kpq ezqfvz isgjm sm mr glrebqpxgpvvf qmbvrv, mrp mwcg fldmdxp tebnneafezan.

Wcdxtca imeimply qzxa rqza imxj kv karpslkmp wamw.

~

Lmv ozhg yrg lu zwerxv. Gsv zmhdvi gl dszg rh yvold xzm hlnvgrnvh yv ulfmw rm dszg lmv szh zoivzwb wlmv.

Ivtziwh,
P. Viv.

~

LLI FWGVRL PMRK YRQWV DRJS'W TSDI, HFHIE S XLVUO WZGK EAV ER RLIVASP LNRI.

(AUSX XUW QETW ORBOW RBL AMYD RSG ZYVG ZMQ, V TIPVWZI.)

Originally posted on 2015-11-11 02:11:00

That is a lot of words. Good going, Erelye.

Originally posted on 2016-03-13 10:04:00

Thanks. I do hope to be continuing with this good work, despite being legally dead.

Regardless, I'll be seeing this thing through the end. Considering that none of this story strictly needs to be kept in with canon, as I literally do not need to mention it, save in passing, I'll just post Act 6 Act 1 Part 1 here. Everything after that shall be the highly-exclusive your-eyes-only material that makes up the remainder of the plot. I'd say that would be through Act 7, the end of this thing.

Enjoy.



—

Motions to rise from seats are made successfully, and glares at the corners of my vision are given, as if to tell off the very shadows and monsters hidden just behind my line of sight, a combination of possible vehemence and paranoia. The wand remains in my direct reach, entangled in my fingers, tightly restrained. The wretched form (filled with what is either intense self-loathing, or utter contempt for existence itself), within which I reside exits the room, giving a singular backward glare to the silence and emptiness. The path to the roof quickly follows, with suspicious backward glances and frothing discontent practically emerging from the crevices of the walls. Soon enough, a practically antediluvian door looms, with nothing save the apparent throbbing of thick, appalling harlequin nectar from a cracked pipe resounding with a perceived echo as it smashes against the metallic flooring. A partly cadaverous hand briefly stretches outwards, gripping the knob of the door, and twisting it firmly.

With swift ingress, I seal the aperture behind myself, peering outwards at the roof of the blighted celestial body. It takes mere moments until an etiolated sight is revealed, bitterly presenting the remnants of this group of living people. A silent look to the skies is immediately regretted as the incessant mutterings of dark gods pound at the walls of my consciousness with renewed vigor. The eyes of countless gods are felt, and I feign ignorance of this irreconcilable, immutable fact. However, the horizon reveals a completely spherical, gargantuan, phosphorescent bubble of reality, sanity, and even physicality in an endless void. Several figures are present slightly further from the entrance, conversing quietly. The wand within my grasp is slipped away discreetly, and movements are made towards them, the space between quickly vanishing.

The Seer, Ms. Seceip, diverts her attention for a moment to look me in the eyes, not offering as much as a curt acknowledgement before fully immersing herself in the repartee once more. I hover around the others for mere moments at a time, observing but never partaking in any real interactions, waiting for a few stragglers to arrive. Within minutes, they do. Ten living beings stand about. The Seer clears her throat. The remainder of the party all cease their conversations, looking to her, some disinterested, some with attentiveness, and others still with insincere attentiveness. Navela points directly at the massive bubble upon the horizon.



The bubble seems to be growing larger on the horizon as the meteor drifts towards it, ever so slowly.



The formerly collected group disperses, people spreading in every direction, several coming to ask questions. I stand stiffly, observing an insipid series of questions and overwhelmingly affirmative responses. Thrilling. After noting several figures making their way into the halls of the asteroid once more, I turn to leave. Navela's voice rings out.



A full ten seconds pass before there is a response.



An escape is made, into the monochromatic depths, towards a personal living space.

—

Upon entering the chamber unanimously referred to as my personal living space, I check to assure myself that the door is indeed locked. Just one more enquier, and the race will be truly afoot. A strange, almost sleek sensation constricts my throat as continuous pacing is conducted. Thoughts swarm about, slipping about in a cold mutual understanding. The dark promises of elder gods go ignored for several hours, as I steel my mind for the upcoming event. A quick gaze towards the nearest clock shows me that it is nearing an hour till midnight. Just seven more hours after this.

Without making much of a noticeable effort, I slide the top of the nearby refugilair off, leaving it to rest comfortably against the metal-plated wall of this godforsaken rock. Quickly removing most of my apparel, I clamber into the refugilair, as the cool gray liquid around me attempts to soothe my screaming mind. Minutes pass, perhaps hours, and yet nothing is asleep within the room. I float, deathly still, in the refugilair’s liquid contents, nails digging into palms and eyes forcing themselves to stay shut. Finally, I rise from the sarcophagus, unable to survive another second still in the esoteric deathtrap. I dry myself, wiping away some remnants of what seems to be abnormally cold liquid, donning my clothing once more. Exiting the room silently, I carefully traverse a well-trodden path to the kitchen, with a motive to perhaps make some tea, or coffee, even. The kitchen is entered, and I make the decision to attain a pot of coffee.

The kitchen is completely empty, lit by nothing more than the refrigerator and the coffee maker. Shortly after arriving, I take a seat on the plushest of sofas in the room, softly sipping from a mug of liquid caffeine.



I glance at the open aperture denoted to be the doorway, unsurprised to see Virnul leaning on the frame. He strides in, taking a seat next to me. I grab a second mug filled with the fresh coffee, offering it to him.



Virnul shifts on the sofa, to what appears to be a more comfortable position, taking the occasional swig from his caffeinated beverage.



A few minutes of silence pass, granting the opportunistic voices a chance to infiltrate my thoughts.



We both sit on the couch, somewhat reluctant to leave. I take a small sip from my mug. Silence reigns supreme for several moments, until I slide to the other end of the couch, enjoying the sudden warmth flooding inwards from Virnul’s close proximity as much as possible. Virnul immediately relaxes, evidently doing the same. I lean in after a moment without reaction, whispering something directly into his ear. His eyes shoot over to me, and he nods, adopting a concerned expression. I stand, mug in hand.



An exit is made, directly towards the nearest place of respite, namely my personal chamber. The next few hours are a blur. The strange, constricting sensation builds in my throat the entire time, not preventing the passage of air, but attempting to incite tension, to some effect. The blur of time is not without an air of deterrence, yet I decide to spend the remaining time strengthening my mind for what shall undoubtedly be filled with impromptu slaughter, whether on one side, or the other. The largest question is that of the participants.

I glare at my refugilair briefly, sitting upon the rim of the device. Leaning against the wall, I rub one of my temples in an attempt to soothe the raging tantrums of my caffeine-addled mind. I am nearly certain that I am the only person conscious at the current moment. Ironic for the only one who is not going. Undoubtedly, there are hours to go. Perhaps a visit the roof is in order. What better to clear the mind than staring into an infinite abyss filled with uncountable monsters of unfathomable nature or intent? Alternatively, the contemplation of an escape from everything into the cold clutches of oblivion via the medium of the roof’s lack of railing could be in order. It’s not as if anyone would notice.

After less than three seconds of primarily one-sided internal debate, a decision is reached. Without a doubt, this desire to leave this chamber twice was wrought of anxiety, or something of the sort. I attempt to make my exit as discreet as possible, twitching at the slightest creak from anything door-ward. Reasonably satisfied with my handiwork (or at least as much as one can be without inviting another wave of self-loathing), I creep up the staircase of this relatively large place of respite, before stepping upon a transportalizer pad. With a flash of white, I step forwards to the pad within the center of the room, completely and utterly ignoring the other eleven marked pads. The common room remains as deserted as it should be at this ungodly hour, and I quietly head for a familiar aperture, walking through. As I reach a sharp turn in the hallway, a quiet repartee becomes painfully evident, perforating the formerly immaculate bubble of silence. I continue walking without as much as a pause, taking a different course than had been initially decided upon, focusing my aural senses all the while.



I take another sharp turn, staring down the bend with a piercing glare. Some distance down the egress, two figures stand; one clad in the traditional garb of a Seer of Time, the other in what appears to be regular clothing, blending in with the drab grays and blacks of the wall to some comparatively minuscule extent.



The two jump visibly, spinning around. Navela and Virnul both look at each other for several seconds, before a reply is granted.



Grim looks adorn all of our faces. At this point, nobody is whispering. None of our voices are particularly loud anyway, and there are no inhabited rooms nearby, so it seems to be a logical course of action.



Virnul pushes his glasses a slight bit further up the bridge of his nose.



Virnul immediately saunters off, back toward the direction from whence I came. I follow, matching his pace, with Navela behind, seemingly lost in thought. We reach the second corner, and begin to head towards the common area once more. Without thinking, I stray far ahead of the group, sliding another doorway open, and leaning against the frame, waiting. Virnul and Navela arrive nearly half a minute later, and we ascend the staircase beyond. A strange look arises in Virnul’s eyes. Slowly, we reach the roof. The door opens with virtually no resistance, and the three of us step out to the dark skies. The blue-rimmed dream bubble upon the horizon is just as distant as it was previously, if not more so.

My eyes whip about, before looking upwards, into the sky. Piercing cries of agony and desperate pleas wrack my mind, along with whispered promises from distant gods, barriers laid low by lack of sleep serving no good against their prodding queries and thoughts. Everything grows steadily more intense. Virnul points to the black abyss above us.



Navela provides an undoubtedly witty and bitter rebuttal. However, I am not really listening. My eyes are far too focused the voided skies. I want to look away, and it legitimately pains me to peer into the depths of the abyss, yet I cannot look in any other direction. Screaming and pleading and those ixfmlqj whispers echo around in my head, seemingly my only companions as I stare with a blank face, hearing Their promises grow ever stronger and more incessant. They desire my cooperation, and They will not take no for an answer. Mocking nausea, likely just some sort of illusion of my worthless rotted mutant brain, seems to become a reality, of sorts.

I continue to stare, unable to look away, a pain growing in my throat, more than usual. Evidently, Virnul and Navela notice.



I abruptly cut off my sentence, realizing (rather late) that this pain originated from a lack of air. Idiot. I move to gasp some in, only to begin drowning in it. I start to panic somewhat, dropping portions of what could ordinarily be described as my aloof facade, and flailing, attempting to grasp something to hold me down, because if I don’t, I’ll just float into the void forever, I just know it. Virnul and Navela scramble over to try and help. They are trying to detach me from the only thing stopping me from falling into their clutches, and the literal void of space. As such, I push them away.

I topple to the ground, groping desperately for something to serve as an anchor to the world, feeling waves of vertigo wash over me, accompanied by increasingly greater bouts of nausea. My unsteady breathing quickly grows into rasping breath, under which I can hear some faint white-noise.



I swiftly attempt to stand and move. My body cannot function without a lack of air, if that wasn’t already obvious. Everything grows blurry at the edges, malformed and twisted. My previous attempt to rise almost immediately fails, and I begin to collapse to the floor. Something warm wraps its arms around me, serving as some form of buffer, slowly lowering me to the floor. I gasp in as much breath as possible, immediately grabbing onto the arms. This time, their speech is effable.



My response is quiet, yet clear.



I quirk an eyebrow up, questioning him with what little energy I have to spare not using to just breathe normally.



I regain an expressionless face, still slightly strained by panic, as this small talk calms my raging nerves and immediate instinct to force Virnul away, and escape, to plunge of this roof and relieve both Navela and him of my inadequacy. Inadequacy in all subjects, save that of mindless destruction. For I am not a logical man. I am a menace, the destroyer of two universes.



I slide my arms upward, to grasp his shoulders as he puts me down, nodding reluctantly. I stand, roughly, using him as a support.



With that, we enter the meteor once more, the glimmer of the dream bubble upon the horizon casting a mocking glow in the sky.[/spoiler]

Originally posted on 2016-03-30 00:05:00

Second part of the already-posted bits of Act 6 Act 1. After this, we enter the dark horizon of infinity into a new realm saturated with the darkness of the unknown.



I open my mouth to say more. However, I am interrupted by Navela, dashing over excitedly, holding a book to her chest tightly with both arms.



Navela holds out the book. I, with my arms impaired currently, am in no position to read it. Thusly, Virnul takes the thing, flipping it open, and finds the page. As he reads, his eyes grow wider.



Noting his concern, I peer over his shoulder to read the thing. His... reticence is understandable. This is dark magic of a caliber I have not even seen before, profane sorcery of a surreptitious caliber left unbeknownst to even the learned amongst Lord-Archmages for centuries, and I have control over one of the greatest arcane libraries in reality itself. The general goal is to tear a portal into the Outer Lands, and to force whatever it is plaguing this mortal realm back whence it came. The actual process itself seems rather simple, nothing I haven't done before, yet never at once. The ritual itself requires a minimum of four people, a maximum of eight.



Virnul shrugs and I nod.



We walk to the exit, and leave, I somewhat reluctantly. On the way, we decide on tomorrow night (Friday) at eight, in the one medium-sized sort of apartment-size chamber near Navela's room. Before we split apart to go to our individual space, I manage to convince Navela to give me the book. Tonight is going to be a long one. I lock my door the second I enter.

—

It is quite obvious that my bedroom walls are bleeding.

This is a new one. The shadows at the corners of my vision, twisting and murmuring, along with the occasion auditory hallucination, and my normal visions and nightmares are completely normal, yet this is not. Only an hour after I entered the room, this began to occur. It is not terrifying or scary at all, in reality. Merely startling. The viscous deep crimson liquid seeps forth from invisible seams in the walls, the bitter tang of copper in my nose and mouth. I briefly see faces and shapes, and hear a sharp scrabbling of claws, before everything is interrupted by a streak of gold flashing across my glasses. I let out a sigh of relief as I blink, and discover the blood is gone, leaving the walls clean. I quickly stride over, and press a hand to it, noting it is in no way damp. The smell and taste of blood receding slowly, I bring the message up.



So, that's who Navela picked. Seems logical enough. Eterne would probably want to see whatever it is we will be doing, and participate in it. She'd probably enjoy looking these horrorterrors in the face. Well, one of their faces. I grab the book, and exit my room, locking the door the second I make swift egress.

The journey to Eterne's room is rather uneventful, consisting primarily of me silently stalking the halls, complete with an occasional shadow in the corner of my vision, and several counts of pounding screams breaking free from the low undertone of psychic chatter in my brain. Around ten minutes later, I reach the hall wherein Eterne's room exists. I mentally steel myself for the inevitable slew of mindplay and teasing insults. Moments afterwards, I motion to knock on the door. However, before I can do so, it swings open. Eterne stands behind the newly-unsealed aperture, grinning.



It is simply amazing how much can be conveyed with just those two words. Eterne's eyes dart to the book in my hands for an instant, before she brushes a lock of messy dyed auburn hair out of her eyes.



I step inside, closing the door behind me. One can tell quite a bit about someone's personality from their room, most of the time. Posters line the walls, a mixture of posters for Vetasian bands I have never heard of, posters for a variety of fantasy-oriented video games, and such. The place is rather colorful, to say the least. But perhaps that is merely due to the fact that I am accustomed to the drab lack of color and sparse decoration based only on necessity and storage that is my place of residence. Eterne gestures to a couple of pillows over on the floor by the wall, directly next to her refugilair, before dashing over, and sitting with her back resting on one of the fluffy things. I follow, reaching the area in a few short strides, sitting with my back to the solid refugilair, right next to Vlzutu.

I flip the book open.



She quirks up an eyebrow. I continue to speak as I turn to the page describing the ritual.



My eyes shift over to hers in an instant. I absentmindedly tug on one of my black sleeves as I respond.



I nod, adjusting my glasses, before stopping at the marked page, and beginning to explain the ritual process, and what will occur if everything goes perfectly in typical verbose detail. Instead of bothering to crane her neck to see the book, she scoots over (taking the pillow with her), practically directly into my lap. The sudden introduction of Eterne's furnace-like warmth to my ordinarily frigid body is absorbed, though I don't say anything of the sort. She cackles loudly when I slap my palm directly into my own face, and drag it downwards slowly. The facepalm of true scholars. Or, alternatively, sarcastic fools. After a large period of time, Eterne begins to yawn frequently, eventually just resting her head on the pillow, and squeezing her eyes shut, and appearing to fall asleep. I nudge her with my elbow.



She responds sleepily.



Before absconding anywhere, I must first get this tired girl off of me. As such, I wrap my arms around her waist, and attempt to lift her off me, which I succeed in with some difficulty, considering both my lack of strength and the fact that she is about my height (give or take an inch or two in either direction, probably downward, honestly) and twenty pounds heavier than I am. I rise, place the girl wrapped in my arms back on the ground, grab the book, and head off.



Eterne gives a wide, toothy, almost shark-like smile at my actual laughter (I immediately cease doing so when I realize what foolishness I am partaking of, searing her ears with such a horrific noise), then waves me off.

—

The hours until it is time pass quietly and swiftly, without incident. I manage to get a couple of minutes of sleep at a time. As if the beings know I mean to get rid of them, they tighten their grip on me for the last few hours. The brief attempt at sleep I made was rudely interrupted with visions of being dragged into the black water of the ancients in deep forests, the sensation of something sharp and particularly excruciating working its way through my systems, as if I were being swallowed up by something with a serrated tongue. The images of people on several of the spines of my books and pictures on my computer appear to have horrifying disfigurements that twist and rumble in space, yet moments later, everything is perfectly normal.

The mirror within my room is covered up within hours once I peer into it; I see something different about myself that I cannot place for certain. Something strange. Out of the corners of my eyes, I know I can see something dripping down, though it is less of an ooze, but more of a solid, something squamous and tentacular that seems to wave at me. Everything seems murkier. At four thirty-six in the afternoon, I cannot take it anymore. I head to the room that is going to be used for the ritual, walking as swiftly as possible once I see a dark shape at the edge of my vision. Virnul is already there; he tells me that he got there at two fifty, that there were some things in his room. He is unusually pale, even for him, and is rather disheveled, clammy, and tired-looking, as I expect I look. I make to enquire further, but stop abruptly when I see something lurking behind him. His eyes widen when he peers into a corner, and I ask if he would like to start moving everything out of the way for the ritual. He says yeah, we've got to do it anyways.

We begin to push things out of the way, moving tables to the wall and chairs to corners. There are a few reflective surfaces, and it merely takes a meeting of gazes for Virnul to cover them with sheets. There is a knock at the door at seven fifteen, and Virnul makes to answer—he knows I won't be the one to do it.

It is Eterne. She walks in quietly, looking around the room. She looks a bit ragged and ashen, but she flashes a smile nonetheless.



I can feel Eterne's gaze on me, as if she were asking if I were okay, and I wish I could respond with any meaningful, articulate statement that revealed I was, despite the fact that I do not believe I am.

Navela arrives last, at seven forty-five. There are a few raps on the door, as if the person behind it were carrying a large amount of goods. I hastily go to open the door, revealing Navela, laden with materials; carrying a large black basin composed of a material not even my extensive knowledge of arcane resources can identify, and the book I left in my room. She has a bag on her shoulder as well. I immediately grab the basin and the book, and nonexistent deity the basin is heavy. Navela lets out a sigh of relief when I take the two items. She has a distant look in her eyes, and is distinctly paler than usual.

Everyone seems to look a little lost, so Navela decides to speak.



With some deliberation, she takes the basin and book back from me, setting the former in the general center of the room, on the floor. Then, she gestures to a bin by the door, and weakly mutters that we can't have any weapons on us during the ritual, placing hers in it as she does so. Virnul and I exchange looks, and I place the Hazel Wand in the bin swiftly, as if it were scalding my flesh to the bone. Eterne places in her twin blades, and we all turn back to the basin, Virnul having no need for a strife specibus. Navela opens the bag and takes its contents out slowly. The thing held a ritual knife, some matches, a roll of paper towels, and what appears to be a live spider in a jar. My insides roil and I hope desperately that I will not need to vomit, the strain on my body already tangible from the lack of sleep and the incessant muttering of my rotted mind.

Under Navela's instruction, we all sit in a ring around the basin, Eterne to my left and Virnul to my right, with Navela across. Seceip proceeds to stand, reading a bit more of the book. Then, she sits once more, looking to the basin, and dragging it directly before her. Everything looks simple enough, as I expected. Then, she takes the knife. She closes her other hand around the edge of the blade with trembling fingers, and suddenly pulls sharply downward. When the edge reappears, it is dripping with blood. Navela opens her free hand up once more, and squeezes a few drops of blood into the basin. Virnul speaks quietly, grabbing the paper towels, and handing a few to Navela. She wipes off the blade with the towels.



Then, she edges the knife and the basin toward Eterne.



Eterne does the same thing as Navela with some hesitation, slicing open her palm and allowing blood to drip into the basin, before wiping the blade off with more paper towels and passing it to me. I slice open my palm without an inkling of hesitation externally, like an actual practitioner of blood sorcery, squeezing blood into the basin, and wiping the blade off with yet more paper towels. I pass it to Virnul, and he does the same with hesitation, handing the implement and the basin to Navela once more. She murmurs something unrecognizable even to my sensitive ears, and spits into the bowl, stirring the resultant mixture with the ritual knife, before grabbing the jar. She opens it, shakes the spider out, stabs it before it can escape, and shudders, making a face. She scrapes the spider off the blade and into the bowl with her bare hands, before striking a match.

Everything is silent for a moment, until she drops the match into the basin, and that is absurd. The blaze should not roar up like that, blood does not tend to be that flammable.

And then I can hear psychotic, disconnected laugher, and feel a heavy, cold autumnal wind whipping around me. Despite its initial position before Navela, the basin is in the center of the circle. This is horrendous. It wasn't supposed to happen this way, at the least. There is a face in the flames, humanoid enough to recognize, leering at me, ethereal and almost regal. Both eyes seem to pierce into my soul without any difficulty. The worst part is that I recognize it.

HELLO, MAGE OF MIND. IT HAS BEEN A LONG TIME. HAH.

Without any sort of conscious control, I extend my right arm, reaching towards the fire. For a moment, everything is covered by a shocked silence, but then I attempt to pull away and find my brain is not in control of my arm, the fingertips extending towards the flame. My fingers are entirely engulfed by the fire. It burns, quite obviously. I can hear the crackling, the sizzling, and smell the charring of burning flesh. I attempt to let out a sound of discomfort, but find I cannot. Soon enough, the charred blackness is slithering up my wrist and arm, towards my elbow, the skin around that area beginning to blister and bubble slightly from the heat, drying, yet remaining slick with sweat nonetheless. I still cannot pull away or speak.



Virnul shoves my arm away from the fire and I am abruptly in control again, jerking my arm from the basin, towards my chest, gripping it with my other arm, but the charred, irreparable flesh is already knitting back together, the third degree burns already glistening with blood sealing up once more as the scent of scorched flesh fades into nothingness.

A tendril of flame bursts from the pillar, but it is not headed for me. It whips around Eterne's neck and begins to drag her in, and she screams, chilling and bloodcurdling. Soon, all of my internal organs beneath the lungs are in my ribcage metaphorically. Eterne is still screaming, connected to the initial bit in one long, unbroken wave. Both Navela and I, being the closest two people, grab at Eterne, trying to pull her backwards, but we seem to be failing. My heart pounds against my ears, rapid and loud, the drumbeat of destruction, in sync with a rhythm I can sense in the flame. Eterne's entire face is engulfed by the pillar, and she is shrieking and sobbing in pain and fear, two things I have almost never seen from the girl as long as I have known her, until, without warning, the tendril of the inferno lets go, and she falls to the ground, her hands covering her eyes as she sobs. I do not let go of her for a period of time, and in fact draw in closer, to do something, anything.

Suddenly, there is a crack of energy and sound, and Navela just vanishes. She is just gone.

Virnul shouts out, but doesn't finish.



Everything in the room save the people begins to shake and rattle with energy, dancing the deathly dance of chaos. Every object glows quite faintly with a burgundy aura, and lifts into the air. Virnul is evidently responsible, but he also cannot be. He is not in control. Virnul screams, body convulsing and twitching with spasms of muscle both mind and matter, and then he's floating in the air, his legs unfolding from his sitting position as he is dragged upwards by his chest, limbs limp and lolling out around him, all of the furniture around the room levitating as well.

From nowhere and everywhere at once comes Navela's disembodied screaming. Everything has gone horrifically wrong.

I hear squishing and laughing and screaming and it is coming from around me, and within me; the walls are bleeding once more, the liquid dripping to the massive rug on the floor, dragging itself across the floor, and underneath me, towards the bowl once more, tendrils seeming to move in the corners of my vision. Virnul lets out another scream, and suddenly Eterne and I are levitating into the air as well and what is happening. The face in the inferno cackles (an almost mechanical undertone beneath it) with dark eyes seeming to glint in the light of the flame just as the fluid on the floor crawls right up underneath the bowl. The wind and storm rage about, tearing a still sobbing Eterne away and towards a wall, whilst dragging me towards the flame once more, along with Virnul.

I extend my arm out once more, this time to try and force myself away from the fire, yet I am unsuccessful, in quite the major way. Suddenly, the basin emits a loud sucking noise as the head cackles. Moments later, there is a flash of blinding light searing into my retinas, and everything goes blurry. A force of some sort from the center of the bowl pushes Virnul and I back, before dragging us inward once more. I can feel a burning heat and nigh-unfathomable pain in my right arm. Suddenly, I am forced backwards, back slamming into the wall in mere seconds, Virnul appearing to do the same, slamming the back of his head rather hard against the wall as well. There is a ringing in my ears and I look to my right arm, to see a bloody mess of torn flesh, ripped skin, seared bone poking through, and scorched tissue, all covered in sticky blood, bits of torn flesh plastered to the ground with the aforementioned fluid, a parallel to ragged flesh still attached to my arm, a bloodied stump essentially all that remains. I remember to scream then, loud, piercing and unbroken. The head cackles one more time.

FAREWELL, MAGE OF MIND. I SHALL SEE YOU SOON.

At once, the rushing noises and roaring of wind and flame all die out. The dark tendrils on the walls vanish and Navela reappears. Everything is silent for one long second as the four of us look around at each other, save for Eterne, who still shakes from where she lies, covering her eyes. I note that the floor is still wet, sticky, and salty from that liquid on the walls. Then, at once, everyone breaks down, most crying or at least sobbing. I slowly regain my vision, only to clearly see that there is a large amount of blood coming from Virnul's right hand, mangled and torn by the explosion, bits of flesh merely hanging off of the thing by the bone in places.

Then, Navela lets out a broken cry and pitches out toward Virnul.



She chants out the phrase repeatedly, her arms around Virnul's neck.



I crawl over to Eterne, immense pain shooting through my arm with every movement. I grab one of her wrists with my left hand, and whisper out a variety of phrase along the lines of "shush, everything's going to be fine" and such that I know are blatant lies at this point, feeble attempts at reassurance.



I shamble several feet over, and flick the switch on, activating the lights, before dragging myself back to Eterne.



She slowly removes her hands from her eyes, and opens them. She whimpers, curling in on herself.



Her eyes are scorched black into her head, with the occasional streak or fleck of white. She's completely blind. I begin to panic, insensible, trying to reassure both her and myself, whilst I know that she is going to be completely blind for the remainder of her life.



The final embers of the basin are dying down, showing that there is no blood, saliva, or decomposing arachnid remaining. Suddenly, there is another flash of light. Everyone screams and scrambles away from the basin, Navela practically dragging Virnul before suddenly just collapsing to the floor; I leap on top of Eterne to attempt to guard her from some sort of harm, extending a shield of amethyst psionic energy, not even really thinking, the psychotic laughter of the form in the flame reverberating around my skull.

Everything goes black, giving way to inescapable visions and horrendous nightmares.[/spoiler]

Originally posted on 2016-03-30 00:10:00

I remember this bit.
Looking forward to actually getting to read the rest of the Kalare saga.

Originally posted on 2016-03-30 15:37:00

And I'm looking forward to killing everything. Hah.

Anyhow, have an EXCLUSIVE, NEVER-BEFORE SEEN edition of Respitebound: Act 6 Act 1, free of any monetary charge. Do enjoy.



She is interrupted by her own sobbing.



I crawl out from underneath the covers of the hospital bed, and shakily grab at the edge of the thing's railing with one hand, before slowly walking across the room (noting that whatever intravenous drip had been attached to my veins is now gone) and carefully taking a seat on the edge of her bed, letting out a quiet grunt of pain, courtesy of my right shoulder.



I look over to Eterne, only to notice her poking the bandages currently encircling my arm. I ask her what she means. She says that my arm feels strange. I regard her quietly, before placing my hand on the limb. It seems extremely different.

It takes me a few more moments to realize the entire thing is made of metal.



I slip my good hand underneath her back, proceeding to rub circles into it, acting remarkably peculiar, give my natural state of phlegmatic coldness. She whispers a response, some portions too quiet to be heard, even with these pointed ears.



I stare at her covered eyes, before calmly making a statement.



I quickly wrap her in a hug. Quite ironic, the emotionless bastard blundering through the art of comforting others. She lies upon the bed rigidly for a few moments, dejected expression evident, before reciprocating extremely vibrantly. Eterne's expression slowly grows into a psychotic grin.



Slowly, without any form of warning, her hands slide upwards, arms wrapping themselves around my neck somewhat sloppily, just as her legs twist around my thighs. Her next statement is both saccharine and measured, directly into my pointed ear.



The tight tangling of her limbs around me slackens almost immediately.



This gets me to consider the query somewhat. I do not actually know if it is permitted for her to vacate the elevated medical plush prism. Of course, she just wants to hear the voices of a few mutual friends who were injured in our little project. This should not require this much phlegmatic deliberation.

As such, I slide off the hospital bed, not even bothering to respond, dragging her with me in my arms, and more importantly due to her twisting her legs and arms around me. Eterne smiles genuinely when I actually do the task, and as I merely stand, leaning on the bed with half my weight, waiting for a verbal response.



It crosses my mind to ask how she knows what French is, before I decide she's probably asked around, and waited to say that for months.



I let out a short sigh, clipped off by my desire for silence, before further wrapping my arms around Eterne, and standing fully. I walk over to the chair in the corner, swiping locks of auburn hair out of my face more than once (eliciting a laugh from Ms. Vlzutu every time). Before I can decide how exactly to wake the two forms huddled together on the soft edifice, I am interrupted.

My near-silent shuffling managed to awaken the two crumpled forms on the plush chair. Virnul's eyes shoot open. Or rather, his left eye manages to do so. Upon this revelation, his usable eye widens, and he looks towards me just as Navela stirs. Virnul groans, a mixture of pain and grogginess ostensibly likely assaulting his thoughts.



I gesticulate my heavily bandaged right arm wrapped around Ms. Vlzutu's waist and devoid of any feeling somewhat in Virnul's direction, just as Eterne shrugs with some difficulty.



Kodros cracks a smile at that. Unusually, he seems to be more glad that we are all alive, rather than the fact that we were all grievously injured, save miss Seceip. Speaking of her, her eyes flutter open, and she lets out a tired yawn.



Navela pushes her glasses further up her nose, looking around. She raises an eyebrow at Eterne's current position, giving a nervous laugh.



I gesture toward Navela with my right arm (Eterne burying herself further into my neck upon doing so, for whatever reason), ignoring the sharp pain that races through my now-nonexistent nerves upon doing so. She slowly raises a hand, which she brushes against the bandages, paling once she feels the hard metal. Her eyes widen somewhat, and she swiftly pulls her limb away.

We all know why this isn't ideal. No one can know what occurred. For some irrational reason, we have all decided unanimously that nobody can know about how half a hand, three eyes, and an arm were suddenly just lost in the depths of the meteor.



—

Within twenty minutes, we have followed our agreement to the letter. By which I mean we have managed to exit the medical bay, leaving no trace of our presence, a measure made easy by the strange lack of blood from whatever operation was conducted by an unknown source to attach a prosthetic arm to the ruins of my own.

The four of us arrive in the Alchemiter chamber. The Witch tugs on my sleeve.



Virnul begins to unwrap his eye, at Navela's protest. He is somewhat surprised to find his eye is wholly there, despite his lack of sight in the thing. Evidently, the blow to his optical cortex was not ideal. He places his glasses on just as I begin to formulate a design for the headset and cane, with the holographic projector installed in the Alchemiter, and Eterne's help. I advise that Virnul and Navela go, as I am quite capable alone, and they oblige. I cannot help but think affairs were too rushed, and that we all needed each other's support as they leave.

The cane is quite light, the hollow metal thing painted bright red and white, separable at the middle to form two blades of Eterne's design, et cetera. A true work of art, considering I worked on it for two hours. The headset, no less, emblazoned with her symbol in clear gold-tinted plastic on the side, the microphone of the highest quality. She insisted on creating it, as she did not particularly desire to fumble around with a keyboard.

Eterne thanks me for these, and then again, in a much happier fashion, when she actually feels the things and notes my precision.[/spoiler]

Originally posted on 2016-03-31 00:56:00

Two sections in one night. Madness.



I stand in the common room, grasping the now-dust-free tome in both hands, the page which will be required for Kodros's enlightenment on the topic marked already.

Virnul stumbles into the room ten minutes later, muttering expletives directed at me under his breath.



I open the tome in my hands up and leaf through the pages, stopping at a certain page marked with an indigo tab, spinning the book around to face Virnul upon meeting this marker.

He peers at the pages with one eye through his oval-shaped glasses. Mere moments later, he looks up to glance at me.



I offer the Knight a transient grin, examining the tome further.



Virnul spins around, and leaves, hesitantly. Wonderful. The second the door seals shut behind him, I grab my Magic Cueball from within my sylladex, a map of this floor of the meteor facility, and the tome.

—

Your name is Virnul Kodros, and you cannot BELIEVE Kalare talked you into this.

Ordinarily, you would proceed on with a large amount of useless knowledge about your current feelings, or even how you are currently being you, but you do not have time for such frivolities. You have a business call to make, and some soda to grab.

You stride coolly down the hallways of the meteor, muttering the occasional expletive at your predicament.

As you travel, you pull out your cellular palmhusk and text someone.



You bite at your lip for those few minutes.



You slide the palmhusk into your pocket, sighing somewhat, before making your way to the Alchemiter room.

With minimal effort, you managed to fabricate an adequate amount of horns using the code. When it comes to horn creation, you are simply the most barely adequate there is. Currently, you are on your way to your room, for the soda. …Why the fuck does he want soda? You guess horns might be needed for ambience, but soda? You know for a fact that Kalare hates soda. Why do you keep soda in your room anyway? With the amount of times you drink it, it would be more space-effective to keep it in the kitchen.

Perusing your collection, you determine that there is only one soda shitty enough for Erelye's request. Faygo. You don't even know why you have it. Maybe because you were trying to protect others from its horrifying visage? No, that's not true. You must have been keeping it here to prolong your own cycle of misery. Eh, Eterne likes the red kind. She likes any kind of cherry-flavored soda, for whatever reason. Personally, you think that's kind of asinine, but who are you to judge? You head off to the common room, like he asked, logging into your computer and messing around on the internet for what seems like hours.

You are abruptly dragged from your state of fixation on your code by the unsealing of the main door to the room. You look over, expectant, and are somewhat surprised by the visage of the figure standing in the doorway.

It is Kalare, no doubt. However, it is what he is wearing that startles you somewhat. Perhaps this was not such a good idea, seeing what he had to wear to set everything up, ostensibly. Kalare removes two thick rubber gloves from his hands, and unbuttons what appears to be a long, dark and heavy lab coat of some description, before pulling a hood down and sliding a gas mask, of all things, off his face, removing a pair of goggles with tinted violet lenses from his neck as well. He nods at you as he tosses all of the protective apparel on the table nearest to you, normal attire beneath. He promptly pulls out his glasses, and puts them on, quirking an amused eyebrow up somewhat at your expression.



Kalare peers at you curiously through his glasses. That last statement is a blatant lie, and you are absolutely certain he knows it too.



Hah. You shrug, grabbing two of the Faygo bottles and the captchalogue card filled with two wheel-device horns. Kalare grabs the hefty coat and gas mask once more, slipping the gloves and the goggles into an inside pocket, carefully taking the third Faygo bottle as well. He nods, and then heads for the main door. You shuffle behind him.

The hallways are rather quiet, save the occasional tapping of what you assume to be Eterne's cane, usually paired with a thump and a curse. Erelye grimaces every time he hears the series of sounds, something you believe to be sympathy glowing within the depths of his eyes. You both turn corners and take apparent shortcuts a plethora of times, heading somewhere which you believe is between the kitchen and Carasi's room, a rather broad and vague area of specification. You think it is better to be as unspecific as possible with such things, as it means you are wrong less, by technicality. In reality, it is just because you don't really bother with pinpointing the actual locations in question, though you surely could. You're just kind of lazy.

Erelye stops abruptly at a room almost directly between the two you noted, placing the large bottle of Faygo upon the floor for long enough to twist the door's knob, and enter, grabbing the plastic thing as he does so. You merely walk through, and push the door shut with your foot. What you see next is rather disquieting.

A number of twin thin metal prongs jut out from the floor all around the room, evidently bolted into place, each pair seeming to be perfectly designed to hold the horns you obtained. The room itself is completely devoid of internal light or the potential to create it, save for a symmetrical ring of candles upon small circular metal plates. The circle of candles is mere inches away from a ring of chalk, immaculate in construct. There is a moderately-sized table of oak squared away in the corner. Seconds after entering, Kalare strides over (damn his long legs and your average-sized ones) to the table in question, and drops all of his protective gear upon the table. You place the captchalogue card holding the horns and the three large bottles of Faygo upon the table as well.



Kalare takes the captchalogue card off of the table, and deploys the contents. The pile of horns plops onto the floor, several instruments at the bottom emitting soft honks. Without as much as another thought, the top twenty-six glow with amethyst energy, and soar over to the dual-pronged edifices, sliding into place precisely, each exuding a click. Erelye gestures over to the Faygo and the horn pile, glancing at you.



You nod. Tonight is going to be a long night, isn't it.

—

>Your name is KALARE ERELYE.

As Virnul scatters the horns and Faygo across the room, glowing with burgundy light (he is currently recovering from a loss of two fingers, after all), I stride over to the center of the room, and peer into the depths of the circle. Unbridled potential in the hands of one with my knowledge, I suppose. That is, if one is intelligent enough to utilize it correctly. I am not, nor do I doubt I ever will be, as has been made quite clear with my exploits.

I carefully uncap the bottle of Faygo, and upturn it above the circle's center. I do not want to know where Kodros obtained all of these bottles of appalling harlequin nectar. I look back to Virnul, quirking an eyebrow upward as I vaporize the bottle in my hands. Virnul is somewhat alarmed by this, for whatever reason.



Virnul gives me an odd look for a few moments, before shrugging and stepping into the center of the circle. I pull a match out of my sylladex, and ignite the thing with the tip of my finger, which bursts into flames moments before to complete the task, before subsiding into nothing.

I crouch down to the floor, lighting each of the eight candles around the circle, blowing the match out afterward, and tossing it upon the table on the other end of the room with a bit of telekinetic aid. I promptly draw a sacrificial dagger from the depths of my sylladex, gripping it in the metallic fingers of my right hand. My eyes flit over to Virnul's, and we both have a moment of quiet understanding. I raise the dagger above my left hand.



I swipe the dagger downwards. Just before I drag the thing into my palm, I thrust it to the side. It embeds itself in the ground. I promptly punch Virnul in the chest with my mechanical arm. His eyes widen as he doubles over in pain, surprise evident on his features. I stand back, muttering occult phrases under my breath, each word resonating with arcane significance.



I slap a hand over Virnul's mouth seconds after he says anything. I grab him by the hand, and roughly pull him toward me, past the lines of the circle. The horns all begin to honk at alternating times, forming a sinister tune of the likes I have not seen

Twin pinpoints of light emerge from nothing directly where Virnul's eyes were moments ago. In mere moments, an extremely emaciated humanoid form bursts into existence, clad in casual clothing. Virnul looks in stifled surprise at the figure, I in intrigue. Further staring reveals generic skin, affected by vitiligo. Shining pinpoints of light still take the place of the eyes, staring into our souls, seemingly. I slowly draw the Hazel Wand from my pocket, waiting.

Excessively bright light blazes through the paler patches of vitiligo. The honking of the horns grows in coherence and loudness as well. The smell of living flesh and blood (likely also augmented by the heavy scent of Faygo in the room) seems to affect the being. The entity seems to fill out, the tall, cadaverous form balanced out with taut muscle, a generally healthy form, and proportions worthy of some sort of master sculptor hired by Aeronedium in the Rebirth. The sheer impossibility of the entire occurrence is rather fascinating.

The being's eyes ignite fully, blazing dark purple with smoky power. The world goes midnight around us as the being's clothing shifts to the garb of a god-tier Heir of Rage. The being's left arm is ostensibly replaced with pure, dark, dripping energy. The thing glows with the heat of a thousand stars, and Virnul scrambles away, toward the table. Yet I do not break line of sight.

The arm seems to suck my mind in, the honking ceasing abruptly. Universes shift together and planets collide as my will holds strong against the strange force around me, seeking to suck out all emotion. Stars fly past my head, novas pulse through my senses alone, and the beauty of creation is revealed, if only for a moment. My soul is yanked through clusters of asteroids and gaseous planets, suns, stars, supernovae, and pure light. It is an excellent plus that I do not get motion sickness, and am not afraid of heights, unless I were to particularly enjoy vomiting, for whatever reason. This feeling is truly amazing. Creation and discovery. A soft, sensual pulsation of noises brings me back to reality, unfortunately.

The harsh light of dim candles and smoky purple in the room stings my eyes, and the figure merely looks at me.



The entity's left arm glows with a deep purple light. I raise the Hazel Wand, the bronze rod glowing with an eldritch amethyst, shining with an incomprehensible light. The being lowers its arm, the purple light reverting to the wondrous images of discovery and creation, a porthole into the infinite cosmos. I do not lower the Hazel Wand.



The being extends its wonderfully amazing left arm in my direction. I lower the Hazel Wand, and shake with my left as well. The arm drips some sort of substance pulsating with images of the cosmos upon my hand during the shake, my eyes glowing with amethyst energy for a few moments, before the being lowers the arm, and leaps into the air, floating, the occasional drop from the arm falling to the floor, mixing with the Faygo.



I nod, and scuff my shoe against the perfect chalk circle I drew.



I nod.



The figure nods, and swoops down, grabbing me.

My soul seems to leave my body along with the being as I soar through space, time, and the mind, flashing past beauteous celestial bodies and gas clouds, each inch of space etched with the knowledge of the immortals. I stare as nebulae and constellations flash past my vision, the heat of the being beside me merely adding to the sense of wonder and amazement, berfore everything descends upon a pinpoint of red birthed of what was once a prosperous delta timeline, surrounded with familiar landmarks. I quickly note everything as it flashes past, mind filling with the essence of creation. I am brought back to reality with a hissing noise. My eyes flick about, and the being's left arm glows with deep purple once more, the meteor around us shuddering and shaking, before appearing to zoom toward its destination at an absurd pace, even more so than it was initially.



The being glows with dark purple, the horns acting up once more, belching forth their mirthful tune into the thick air of the room, before there is a flash of light, and everything is silent, the room, filled only with its two initial inhabitants. Virnul looks at me, dumbfounded.

He walks over to me, and prefaces his statement with a retaliatory punch to my stomach, albeit marginally more forcefully than mine had been. I double over, coughing a bit.

[/spoiler]


Originally posted on 2016-03-31 02:16:00

Huh, it occurs to me that although the deal with this guy seems to have gone well, I doubt Kalare's assumption that the others are going to be fine is going to wind up being good for anybody.

Originally posted on 2016-03-31 14:28:00

If only I could say anything to respond to that without spoilers. Hah. Alas.



I look back to the symbol. Upon doing so, I note that the mark is dripping with a sticky red substance, almost certainly my own blood.

That is about the time the ground begins to tremble. Before I can raise a finger in reaction, a smooth, sleek tendril of oily form sprouts from the ground, and surges upward, emerging on the other side of my wrist, engulfing the symbol. The wind whistles with horrid shrieks, marring the pages of existence like the aphotic inks drawn from the vitae of the realm between words and the ephemera of the humanoid, all from a quill fashioned from the ovipositor of a deformed alavaraphidia--beyond which there is no substance. I blink twice, staring at the wound upon my hand, a flash of brilliant white, Oedonian screaming from bodiless indeterminable vocal estuaries, a billion, trillion, innumerable twisted oral gashes incorrigibly consigned to oblivion--somewhat at a loss for words regarding the situation the hand of Acheron descends upon the vile bubble, soon to shatter the world, HAI E'NGHAI, a Dark Gift upon the subservient of the Oceanic Horror arrives thusl--currently befalling me.

With a slight jump, I leap to the waking world, breathing heavily.

Looking to my hand, it is evident that there is indeed no damage. However, I slowly twist it around, just to be certain. Therein lies the symbol of Mind, inscribed upon my wrist. Supposedly impossible, but perhaps not. I blink several times, looking up to see my computer screen.

24 Nárië, 2015

The pen scrabbles over the page as it always does, inked notes and diagrams slowly appearing upon the page with every stroke, as per usual. I sit within the confines of my room, quietly recording a summarization of a thick, leather-bound tome's salient content, the air thick with must. Ciphers and broken code lay strewn about upon the pages of the text beside mine.

Quite simply put, it was time. Now, it begins. Hah.

I patch the assortment of externally incomprehensible notes into a singular cohesive form across the wall, frowning as I reveal the object of my research, sliding the familiar bronze rod out of my sylladex with a small pop of ozone.

Perusing the extent of my encrypted research, I toss the wand into the air, concentrating on its form tacitly, my eyes flicking shut all the while. An amethyst light inevitably envelops the wand, and it remains suspended in midair, locked away in a single instant, despite the downward pull of anything resembling a fundamental force.

This shall only take a moment, of course. Opening my eyes once more, I gesticulate in a calculated fashion, making various occult signs with my fingertips, dancing in the breeze of infinity. The hideous shrieks and mutterings of a thousand ancient gods thrash chaotically against the inside of my skull, a mental pandemonium serving as a counterweight to the precise entropic order of my psionic manipulation. I give in to the abyss, if only for a moment, to give them a Voice. My gesticulations grow ever slower and more wavelike, circling about as sparks of amethyst energy leap off of both my form and that of my greatest creation. My eyes grow pale.



Streaking, inconsistent, and incandescent lines flow over the surface of the levitating wand, strangely vein-like in structure, leaking both vaporous shadows and the amber fires of creation. With an inaudible fizzle of burnt air, the segments created by the division of the wand through lines of energy separate from the core device, leaving naught but a levitating liquid core dripping into itself. The thing glows like a black star-spangled hole into the depths of infinity, shining with the light of a hundred thousand stars that will never reach another living being again. Gazing into the depths of the core as it pulsates with something akin to a heartbeat, my mind is flooded with the ecstasy of pure knowledge of the universe.

Mere moments later, a wriggling tentacular shape emerges from the core, minuscule in scale. Liquid black darkness flows forth, and my eyes return to a near-natural state, albeit rolling into the back of my head in the process. However, before anything drastic can occur, a strange lurching sensation radiates throughout the room, and indeed the entire meteor. The fragments of the Hazel Wand floating around the mysterious core are enveloped in a twisted mixture of violet, octarine, and irrigo, just as the silent symphony is interrupted by a knocking on the door.

I jump to a start, flicking my hands instantaneously in reaction. The pieces of the Hazel Wand soar straight back into the core, the vein-light fading, leaving naught but an infinitely smooth and whole wand devoid of fractures. The tentacle emerging from the core is nowhere to be found. I blink several times, and pocket the wand, before looking to the door once more.



Without a second thought, I saunter over to the door, and swiftly open it, step through, and immediately draw it closed behind me, as to leave as much to the imagination of Ms. Atheru as possible regarding the current occult contents of my room. We begin to stride down the musty halls of the meteor facility toward the nearest roof entrance, side by side. My metallic right arm is met with shooting waves of pain that do not exist, the stump the biowire is fused to undergoing once more the feeling of being torn apart in instants, flesh and bone submitting to arcane will.



I grin as we pull back the door, revealing the glowing fuchsia skies above.

Tonight was the night after all.

>End of Act 6 Act 1.[/spoiler]

Thus ends Act 6 Act 1. Expect something special over Friday and Saturday.

Originally posted on 2016-04-01 02:52:00

Hey look, they got there without things going horribly wrong. They only went sort-of wrong.

Waiting for LE to show up and eat them all, or something of a similar caliber.

Originally posted on 2016-04-01 14:56:00

Originally posted on 2016-04-02 03:32:00

Ah, the joys of being black carapacian mobsters.
You do the Midnight Crew narrator writing style very well, I must say.

Originally posted on 2016-04-02 19:11:00