I look over the general field, a bright look deep within my eyes. Slowly, the lids droop downwards, obscuring them in mere instants. When they open once more, they appear unnaturally dull, almost clouded. They seem to hold the secrets of hidden knowledge, of eldritch secrets and long-lost mysteries embedded beneath a layer of personality.
Within seconds, the look has vanished. I can assure you with absolute certainty that its effects have not. The sudden ingress and egress of some elder sensation has had a profound impact upon my inspiration, in a mainly negative manner. Given my previous experiences with such inspiration, it will be splendiferous, for me.
I flick my hand somewhat, and my arm begins to exude some sort of twisted aura, a swirling and viscous-appearing mass of almost-dripping gray energy. The space around the aura appears to lurch inwards, dragging any sorts of gases in the general area within the pulsating energies. Moments later, the gray gives way to constantly-vacillating images, shifting fluidly and a sharpness akin to physically being present in the area presented. First, a war-torn battlefield, then various murder scenes and manslaughter cases, and then graveyards.
The constantly shifting images flash past what appears to be a squamous, tentacular form of a size too vast to comprehend (for to comprehend its form is to embrace madness), which opens a piercing eye just before the image changes once more, this time to a… pool table. Strangely, the image does not shift further. Not exactly what I expected. Alas, the fallacy of probability. The ticking of a grandfather clock becomes evident just as I release the energies of the aura.
The aura vanishes, calling forth absolutely nothing. I wait. The clock ticks thrice, though I appear to pay more attention to each tock betwixt. Reality appears to fold away at the seams from my perspective, as I disappear from the vision of all upon the server. I examine my surroundings, noting that I am in a green room (likely owned by a certain white host), extravagantly decorated, with a pool table in the center. I pick up a cue, examining the balls set upon the table.
The cueball is quite normal, as is the eight ball. However, all else seems altered. There are a variety of other balls, though they are not of particular importance, save two. One, marked with a Ω, the other with a much larger Ω. Both are coated with carefully-drawn flowing Tengwar, both vastly differing messages. Immediately deducing what is required of me.
As such, I use the cue to strike the cueball, comme d'habitude. However, as the cueball streaks towards the triangle of set balls, I toss the cue aside. There is a flash of metal, along with a spoken word, and blood drips to the floor, narrowly missing the felt of the table. The balls at the table all begin to lurch about mechanically. The red omega is the only one to get pocketed. I stab the cue through it with a shatter, and walk off.
Elsewhere, UserZero suffers a horrendous physical and mental ailment that feels somewhat akin to being drained of all blood, and shattered to pieces only moments after. I reappear upon the place of battle, hand bandaged and somewhat bloodstained. If nothing else, this shall provide a veritable opening.
(+1 to Twin; +1 to Serpent)
Furtive Knowledge: 5/20(+2 from Twin and +1 from Serpent) IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
A starship suddenly warps out of nowhere, merely lurching into what appears to be this reality. Mauve plasma clinging to the hull slowly dissipates, remnants of travel through infinite pure energy. The only notable features about this ship are the white 'UASG' on the side, and the faded of archmages long forgotten in the mists of the future's past, and of ancient infidels. Immediately, the thing races toward its target.
A particular server in Universe C of the apparent Trifecta. Hah.
-- atrophicTachyon [AT] began trolling terminalAutocrat [TA] --
AT: HAVE YOU REACHED YOUR DESTINATION AS OF THE CURRENT POINT ON THIS TEMPORAL STREAM? TA: no TA: im almost there TA: why did you send me here of all people AT: YOUR SKILLS ARE SUITED TO THIS PARTICULAR PROJECT.
AT: MEANING THAT IT DOES NOT SEEM PARTICULARLY RELEVANT TO THE ACTUAL PRESENT, AT LEAST ACCORDING TO HOW IT SHOULD CARRY OUT, CONSIDERING YOU WILL BE ENTERING A TIME PERIOD AROUND FIVE HUNDRED YEARS IN THE PAST.
AT: THE PROJECT IN OF ITSELF IS RATHER SIMPLE--OR, I THOUGHT SO. TA: thats probably because youre a miserable soulless AT: I PRESUME THIS IS WHERE YOU STATE THAT YOUR PREVIOUS EMPLOYER WAS FAR MORE HOSPITABLE AND MARGINALLY MORE HUMANE THAN I, IN THE MONTH AND A HALF YOU KNEW HIM.
AT: UNFORTUNATELY FOR YOU, THE LORD-ARCHMAGE KALARE ERELYE, AND BY EXTENT THE AVATAR HE COMMANDED, WHICH HAPPENED TO BE THE PHYSICAL FORM YOU SAW, HAS BEEN OBSCURED FROM MY VISION FOR THE PAST FIVE HUNDRED YEARS, AND MORE LIKELY THAN NOT PERISHED IN THE FIRST CENTURY OF THAT OBFUSCATION.
AT: YOU ARE UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT. TA: thats obvious AT: INDEED IT IS.
AT: YOU WILL CONTINUE ON TO THE DESIGNATED LOCATION, AND AID IN THE PROGRESS OF WHAT YOU HAVE DEIGNED TO INITIATE.
AT: IN SEVERAL MINUTES, YOU SHALL ENTER THE UNIVERSE DESIGNATED, AND THIS LOG WILL BE DISRUPTED AS THE SCANNERS ATTEMPT TO RECALIBRATE.
AT: CONTACT ME WHEN YOU HAVE TOUCHED DOWN.
AT: I WISH YOU THE MOST FORTUITOUS OF OUTCOMES, HOWEVER INSINCERELY, AND IT SHOULD BE NOTED THAT YOU MAY DO WHATEVER IS NECESSARY TO ACHIEVE YOUR PURPOSE THERE, AND ALSO EXIT THE PLACE, AS I'D RATHER NOT LOSE YOU, ASSUMING I AM NOT THE ONE TO KILL YOU. AS A WISE MAN ONCE SAID, "WHO ARE WE IF WE DON'T HAVE THE ABILITY TO VIOLENTLY HURT SOMEONE?" TA: yeah whatever TA: okay i can see it TA: its so bright AT: THE LUMINESCENT GREEN OBJECT DOMINATING YOUR VISION IS WHAT SOME UNDER QUESTIONABLE REASONING HAVE IDENTIFIED AS UNIVERSE C OF THE TRIFECTA, OTHERWISE CONTAINING A UNIVERSE INTENDED TO CONTAIN WHAT APPEARS TO BE AN ALTERNATE VERSION OF ALPHA EARTH PRIME, AND THE DELTA VERSION OF THE CLUSTER OF UNIVERSES DEIGNED !U2, U2, U1, AND !U1, TO STATE A FEW.
AT: I HAVE NEVER BEEN ABLE TO LOCATE THE ALPHA VERSIONS OF THOSE UNIVERSES, AND ONLY KNOW OF THEIR EXISTENCE THROUGH TEXTS AND ELDRITCH WHISPERING. SOME SORT OF RETCON AFFECTING THE PERCEPTION OF THEIR TIMELINES IN THE ENTIRETY, OSTENSIBLY. TA: i didn't need that much info AT: THAT IS EXACTLY WHY YOU WERE GRANTED IT. TA: okay im about to enter. TA: see ya TA: <3<
Suddenly, the ship begins to exude copious amounts of psionic energy oscillating primarily between red, blue, and multiple shades of violet. The psionic energy pulsates rapidly as the craft accelerates to speeds marginally exceeding that of light.
Within minutes, the destination is in sight. 0rigin Point. Immediately, the ship docks, seeming to be calibrating something of note. Moments later, what appears to be a satellite dish retracts, and a pod of some description is fired into the planet, landing without any real damage to the surface of the planet. Can't really afford to incur the wrath of the inhabitants. I am sure that this maneuver will be completely irrelevant, and nobody shall ever hear of its contents again. Fortunately, the ship's origin facility, and by extent, the laws that it follow, have been vastly changed since Erelyean times, or even Nartheonic, back on the facility's home planet. Neither of their policies would have been ideal; one due to planetary tradition, the other merely due to insanity.
The starship departs, returning to wherever it is it came from.
—
Some time later, another player joins the server.
That is, of course, where I come in.
As per usual for me: Anti-Zero, I'll probably end up using highly dubious methods, morally, et cetera. It should also be noted that I am not this 'Kalare Erelye' everyone will likely assume I am. For now, let's just use my username. terminalAutocrat. So, yeah. There's that.
I preface my game by drawing on whatever vast sources of energy this land contains (excluding Yggdrasil, unfortunately) to energize my brain to a point wherein my synapses are firing at around the speed of light, give or take. Utilizing this mental boost, I pull out a pack of cards.
Upon doing this, I begin to shift and shuffle the deck about almost excessively swiftly, muttering under my breath. Three minutes, forty six seconds, and nine nanoseconds pass, until I suddenly toss the deck into the air, catching every card, each of which exude a multitude of violently bright lights of an arcane nature.
I continue to carry out a variety of tricks, each of which ending with progressively greater and more attention-drawing occurrences. This continues until I manage to pique the attention of UserZero. I continue upon noting this when (or if) it occurs, beginning to perform a few of non-Euclidean nature.
The small tears into the fabric of reality are completely ignored as I continue. Then, I announce I am ready for my grand finale. Under the best of circumstances, I have managed to draw the attention of everyone within hundreds of thousands of meters. Then, I plunge my hand deep into the depths of non-Euclidean space. Bursts of liquid nox and tentacular forms seem to drip from around my hands. Suddenly, I draw my hand out, and disappear. The deck of cards just sort of splatters in UserZero's face, and she feels a pang in her back.
If she were to look around, she would note that I had just punched her, for whatever reason. That must be laughable for her. Did I honestly think that would damage her?
That's why I was wearing solid divinium gauntlets topped with spikes made of solid void.
I pull out what appears to be a weathered tome, whispering a few words to it, and marking several things down upon a blank page, most of which appear to be dimensions and material lists. Tomes of such ennui tends to do things of an unsavory nature.
(+2 to the Scribe/Twin/however it is I should address you)
GG, everyone. I may not have exactly been present for the last bit of the game--and I think it was for the better--but I can assure you that this was truly a magnificent experience. Thanks to Twin for GMing, you'll hear from me on the ninth, et cetera. Assuming I am not a total idiot, I think I might have something else to add for you all by then, but whatever.
It was a pleasure playing this game, and I certainly wouldn't have had it any other way.
DEO (EIGHT TIMES) PUERIS DIABOLUM (FOUR TIMES) PUERUM ACER AD SUZ VICTORIA (TWICE) DEO (EIGHT TIMES) PUERTIS DIABOLUM (FOUR TIMES)
Atbash, and then ROT2, for those who are interested. I am particularly enjoying what that entails. That is to say, if I didn't already have an idea. Hah.
I've got an excellent set of words we can use to describe this, instead of an inaccurate word. Indefinite hiatus. We cannot use intermission, as that is plainly not true, and we do not even have a third disc for another End of Disc, which is what occurred the other two times the editor undertook a groundbreaking update.
Alas, it is slightly too late for that now. By which I mean two acts too late. Anyhow, we are now REQUIRED to place trigger warnings on every one of our posts when possible.
Ring of Sorcery: Current Mode Active: Abyssal. Inky Epiphany II Abyssal Energies III
Now, for some defense. I'd rather not have to suffer the afflictions of the undead without my personal consent. As such, I pull out the Beat-Skipper, placing it in midair. The second it goes down, the jukebox glows with a pale white light, levitating. Immediately afterwards, I whip out the music disc aptly titled 'Ward,' and slide it into the aperture upon the block's top. I peer into the depths of the Beat-Skipper, and wait. Abruptly, golden creation energies plume from the slit in the top of the jukebox, flowing forth as the potency of the disc is released. I sift through my alchemical bag, and reveal what appears to be a drawstring pouch of wood ash. I take the thing, and pull the strings. With a bit of telekinetic influence, the oak wood ash bursts outwards, spraying everywhere, my goggles luckily protecting my eyes. The wood ash forms a cloud around me, the occasional golden ray of creation gleaning from the core, directly beside me. Given the fact that I am currently within a cloud of dense wood ash, and cannot see anything in any way whatsoever, I place my hands upon the Beat-Skipper, to be certain I cannot lose the power source. The aura of creation expands outwards under my direction, further pushing the limits of the wood ash cloud. The moment the aura begins to brush against the cloud, the ash at the very edges seems to be incinerated with no regards to its existence pre-absorption. I pull Ward out of the Beat-Skipper, and shatter it completely and utterly. Any remaining energy within the disc is dispersed, wherein I immediately utilize it to further defensive measures. Within moments, the aura of creation surpasses the cloud, and becomes a visible shape mere inches from the Incarnate's chestplate, dwarfed by the mecha in comparison. I pick up the Beat-Skipper, and promptly drink a single use's worth of liquid from a Potion Flask. Let's hope this Soul Harden does what I think it will. Suddenly, the creation energies gain a rigid and structured shape, becoming completely solid and as impervious to attacks as my abilities permit it to be. The creation utilizes the inner cloud of wood ash as a catalyst to fall back upon in the event of something destroying the main shield, to fully energize it to distract any undead or projectile/brute force-based opposition long enough for me to force it back telekinetically. The potion's duration should last the remainder of this turn.
Ring of Sorcery: Current Mode Active: Abyssal. Inky Epiphany II Abyssal Energies III
I stare at several Metal Plates, unusually still. I incline my hand, the fingers twitching slightly. Let's see if I can make this work. Air seems to rush outwards, fleeing from the palm of my hand as it the space it was formerly present in is marred by the essence of eternity. With a series of thoughts and mild gesticulations, a concentrated sphere of ochre energy pulsing with electricity denotes the sudden emergence of some form of sorcery. Within a few moments, innumerable waves of ochre electricity arc towards the Metal Plates, and pound against them, strangely serving to melt, instead of conducting. This should be rather effective. Suddenly, the ochre orb erupts in a blaze of pure energy, completely annihilating an area equivalent to the size of the orb on one of the Metal Plates, leaving nothing behind, including air or empty space. A few sparks of pure golden creation signify something completely different afterwards. Waves of ochre energy and pure electricity emanate from the rather superficial blast point, tearing away at any remnants of the Metal Plate in question, leaving layers of ash and molten metals upon the Incarnate. However, this is not nearly the end of the aftereffects. Suddenly, at the edges of the crater generated by the explosion of the orb, the metals begin to rust. I levitate backwards, watching. Slowly, the Metal Plate begins to rust over entirely, any forms of additives (such as paint) peeling off the second the curse spreads to their general area. A... squamous, thick crimson liquid begins to drip from the edges of the Metal Plate, and bolts of ochre lightning erupt from the Plate occasionally. Less than a minute later, the Metal Plate has been covered completely in rust, still dripping with the organic-seeming fluid. I glance at the Plate, snapping my fingers. A web of stringy dark jade energy arcs from the Plate, and the rust seems to transform, softer, fleshy, crimson-colored, and scaly. Squamous, even. Hah. The organic tissue instantaneously liquifies itself, and begins dripping off of the Metal Plate, completely indistinguishable from the initial drops of the same crimson liquid. I telekinetically drag the rest of the liquid downwards in globules with my mind, amethyst electricity coursing around the general area of my upper skull, pulsating slightly. The oddly soft metallic innards of the Metal Plate begins to warp under some sort of external pressure. I merely stare at the plate, a stoic expression upon my face. Suddenly, the plate is obscured by a massive blast of amethyst energy which sears the retinas of any looking directly upon it, tearing the plate apart as swiftly as possible, before fading away.
Ring of Sorcery: Current Mode Active: Abyssal. Inky Epiphany II Abyssal Energies III
I head upwards, to the Chestplate.
Now, I suppose it might be a good idea to detail what the best courses of action happen to be. Plan one; we destroy the Chestplate, use the two Raves (who's even eligible for them, at the current moment?) we currently have on both of the Arms to obliterate them, before taking out the Head as a group. This would be ideal, if not for the slight delay thanks to the lack of players in the Left Leg. Plan two; everyone who happens to know what this means, execute the Primary Directive, and carry out the pact we spoke of. This is assuming we cannot deal with the Incarnate in time. We've got less than twelve turns until we are absorbed into the cold grasp of inevitability and oblivion. Do make them count.
Anyways, I absorb well over 280 CV/s of Purus vis in an attempt to remove my Corruption debuff. That is not something I need for the moment. If I succeed, I attempt to obtain small fragments of liquid corruption before they decay away under the light of purification for future study.
Ring of Sorcery: Current Mode Active: Abyssal. Inky Epiphany II Abyssal Energies III
I gaze upon everything below the Incarnate, before preparing to recede into the relative safety of the mindscape. Whose mindscape, you ask? Well, let's see. How about... you. My eyes come to rest upon Cipher's Call, which suddenly glows with green light, pulsing out plasma rife with the energies of the Green Sun. Let's hope this works. If I succeed, proceed along with this post. If not, disregard the remainder of this action. Ah, Build's mind. What to do within? Nothing disruptive. Being killed by the Eclipse is not exactly desirable. But, hey. That doesn't mean I can't give you some gifts. With a thought, a severed head appears in Build's mindscape, immediately beginning to scream as if his entire lower body below the neck had been forcefully torn off. Hah. Slowly, the upper layers of the head's skin begin to peel off, and the head slowly decomposes, screaming all the while. Hah. That was excellent. But, let's get on with this. Given the fact that you can conjure anything you cam conceive in the brain, I think I'll use it for a bit of spellcraft. Now, the power source. Option one is me just shattering your psyche in its entirety, probably killing me instantly, given the fact that you're exponentially more powerful than I, and hopefully harvesting energy from the fragments. Option two is--no, I'm not doing that, you crazed all-seeing illuminacho; or, not without a 'pay raise,' at least. Sorry, I may or may not be having an internal conversation. Option three is to just use the imaginative potential of the mind to generate what I need. Given the fact that I'm not particularly partial to harming Build, I'll just go with number two. I mean three; definitely three. As such, I examine the actual mindscape in question, noting its structure and anything else particularly spectacular. I proceed to conjure up the purest form of regeneration I can perceive without having to stab myself repeatedly, in the form of a large pond of Ghast Tears in Build's mind. Let's see here. It's time to ABS0RB THE S0ULS 0F CH1LDREN TRAPPED 1N THE1R 0WN TEARS. I leap directly into the pond of Ghast Tears I just generated through thought. Suddenly, the liquid begins flickering with white light. In moments, hundreds of spectral white spheres of ethereal souls rush inwards, plowing into my manifest consciousness. I absorb every single one of them, glowing with a dim white light afterwards. Hah. I clamber out of the pond of tears, leaving it there. That way, you can soak in the soulless pure liquid consciousness of human children whenever you enter your mind, Build. I pull out Providence's Topper. However, instead of putting it on, I wave it in the air, trying to get something out. Centuries-dried bits of what may or may not be your human leader Abraham Lincoln's brain fall out. You know how this hat's real owner got this hat, so that should be good enough for you. I put the hat away. The dried bits of brain diffuse into a jade-green liquid, and seep into the ground. Finally, I snap my fingers. A bright blue flame ignites upon my fingers, spreading into a fireball nigh-instantaneously. I levitate into the air, glowing with octarine light. Now, before I go, allow me to give you a bit of a vision. Suddenly, an indigo inferno bursts to life back on the mindscape's ground. The flames shift about, forming what appears to be a figure that looks suspiciously like Build, clutching his head, before he is crushed by a large amount of blue energy that appears to be a central First Guardian's purest energy, escaping his body. The inferno proceeds to form the visage of a massive cat, which meows once, before the flames disappear. Well, see you around. By which I mean in ten seconds. The last vestiges of souls from the Ghast Tears flow into my body, and I disappear. Then, I open my eyes, awakening on the Right Leg. I feel the life energy of countless souls surging throughout my physical form, healing me, before annihilating themselves, and sending the remnants back to the mental dreamscape from whence they came.
Ring of Sorcery: Current Mode Active: Abyssal. Inky Epiphany II Abyssal Energies III
Serpent, it's nice to see that you support my entire point. At the very least, you get it. Everyone in my 'little crew' knows full well that they cannot escape, and that they are likely going to die. English is already here, and has been for months. Along with that, you should hope that the fate befalls me first. My death can be nothing but advantageous to you, of all people. Also, I do hope you enjoy the Godslayer, if you didn't notice me giving it to you.
I suddenly whip out the Hazel Wand. Ordinarily, I would utilize it to make some exceedingly convoluted assault, but I am currently suffering from the effects of Corruption. Now, I believe it would be best if I organized some sort of healing attempt. Despite my copious amounts of Runic Shielding, I'd rather not face death this early. Then again, what choice do I have on the matter? I flick the Hazel Wand, and amethyst plasma erupts from the tip of the wand, fluctuating and pulsating with wild abandon. Within instants, tendrils of aubergine plasma of fluctuating color arc downwards, towards Apocalypse Hill. I do hope my skill and knowledge shall be adequate for this particular work of magecraft. The tendrils in question carve into the ground, forming odd shapes and eldritch markings within the earth. When the tentacles off energy retract, they reveal that a oily, black, paste-like chalk has been smeared upon the floor in the patterns directed. The tendrils all move upwards once more, twitching and flailing around my form, all stemming from the tip of the Hazel Wand. I brandish the wand in a manner akin to a whip for a moment, and the tendrils swarm downwards, forming a sort of dome of arcane magics around the marks and circles. The sorcerous tentacles melt through the earth of Apocalypse Hill. I slash the Hazel Wand downwards. As I do so, time seems to slow down relative to my existence alone. My eyes dart about, and I note that everything seems to be shifting into a monochromatic gray.
I attempt to mutter something, yet no sound comes out. Slowly, a wave of violet sorcery appears, directly following the trail of the downward slash. Time continues as normal suddenly, and everything regains color. A blast of pure mauve blows a hole into the center of the arcane circles and markings, initiating some sort of healing ritual. Pure life energy flows across the server locally. I receive a direct boost from the energies of my causation, receiving some health. However, this thing should function as intended. For every 5 HP regained with express intent of fueling this ritual, some amount of damage will be dealt to either the Corruption or Oblivion Joints, depending on the position of the one who used the ritual's power. There. Have your semblance of teamwork. The remainder of the amethyst plasma heads into the plasmic dome, and I carefully place the Hazel Wand in my inventory.
For those who do not possess the time (or patience) to read this, it is essentially a combo that utilizes the healing of players to deal damage to the Joints of either Leg, hopefully.
Ring of Sorcery: Current Mode Active: Biological. Transmutation II
I shift the Ring of Sorcery to its 'Abyssal' mode. Ink is knowledge. Knowledge will be rather effective, I suspect.
Suddenly, I'm dying, and corrupted. I draw the Golden Sunsticks. Fortunately, it is stated that attacks with have a chance to fail, hopefully not healing. Fortunately, I now possess approximately 0.0000000000000000000000000000000000000000018 of the Red Sun's power, thanks to that deal. With a flick of my hand, red plasma bursts into existence, swirling around the Golden Sunsticks, emitting obscene amounts of electromagnetic radiation, which is promptly consumed by the Golden Sunsticks to fuel their reparative potency. The plasma floods inwards, being absorbed by the Golden Sunsticks in the first place, seemingly before the plasma was even generated. With a thought, pure, unadulterated creation pours forth from the microscopic apertures into the core of the Sunsticks, giving both of the twin wands an aura of creation. The Sunsticks continue to exude creation energies, as I mutter under my breath, attempting to cast some sort of spell. Instantaneously, waves of Sano vis rocket across the general area, fusing their essence to my wands before annihilating themselves. The Golden Sunsticks steadily grow in power and healing capacity over a time period of several seconds, before expending it all in a singular pulse of regenerative potency, which I immediately utilize to repair as many of my wounds as possible. I'm certainly not a healer, but this should work. The creation energies immediately form a protective veil around me, before converting into gaseous Sano essentia. I begin working mere fractions of a nanosecond later, fully knowing the dangers of unprotected essentia. Hundreds of wards go up in a minute, or two, and the essentia begins to congeal, forming puddles upon the floor. Then, I expend what little remains of the creation energies to form what appears to be suitable containment. The Sano essentia is teleported into the containment, wherein I place what appears to be a Runic Matrix. In moments, the essentia coalesces around the Matrix, forming a Red Sea around the object. I abruptly create an infusive pull. Suddenly, the essentia begins leaving its cloud, heading directly into my avatar in the form of red bubbles. Before they touch me, I convert them to pure regenerative force, which I utilize to heal myself as expediently as possible. With that, I place the Golden Sunsticks back in my inventory.
I suppose I should divulge this information, now. There's no use in withholding it, save to bury it within the darkest depths of my psyche for the remainder of my meaningless existence.
—
11 Súlimë, Trial 4. Around midnight. Universe V2.
Everything is black. An eternal void, pure liquid nothingness spread amongst a sea of empty shadow. Silence-wrought eternal void in a realm of vision likely beyond my perception. I do hope this gateway has worked. Preferably to the point of returning me to my initial state, instead of casting me, along with the other Descendants, into a deeper form of Limbo, wherein we shall suffer for the rest of existence. I realize that my lungs are emptying. I tense up, awaiting the return to life. If it shall ever come. Several intense minutes pass, but nothing seems to occur. Perhaps this was all a grandiloquently-prepared lie said to be rescue from Limbo. Perhaps I am now dead for the remainder of eternity. Just a ghost, lost and mindless. Just as I exhale the last fraction of air from my lungs into the inky vestiges and infinite vortices of the void around me, I feel as if I am slamming into the ground, yet staying perfectly still. The noises of life occur around me. Or rather, swift typing, footsteps, and talking. Ah, it's good to be back. I lay upon what appears to be the hard, cold, metallic floor, feeling the panels of the meteor's common room. I do not open my eyes; you never know what--or who--could be standing above me, prepared to stab me the second I move. I feel the familiar weight and cold touch of the Hazel Wand in my right hand, just lying there. The screams, shouts, cries, utterances, and pleading of the imminently deceased fill my head once more. I stay still upon the ground, attempting to imitate rigor mortis. I hear the footsteps of several people entering the common room. Then, several moments later, somewhat abruptly, the door slams shut.
NAVELA: Alright, which one of you did it?
What have I missed? I don't want to know, actually. Likely large amounts of their normal routine. Eterne speaks first.
ETERNE: Are you seriously asking that? We don't know. It's as simple as that.
NAVELA: Yes, I'm asking that. You're not telling me you didn't kill him.
ETERNE: Look, just because you think Kalare had a personal vendetta against--
NAVELA: I know for a fact that he did!
VIRNUL: Yeah, this is stupid. Arguing isn't getting us anywhere.
ARAEVA: Please, just stop shouting.
ETERNE: Yeah. So, care to continue indiscriminately accusing?
NAVELA: I'm not accusing indiscriminately. You're kind of the only one here who can kill someone without leaving a mark.
VIRNUL: And that's where you're making assumptions. In case you haven't noticed, Araeva and I can do that. So could Kalare. Because he's one for suicide, definitely.
I see. So, Navela wishes to figure out who killed me. Hah.
ETERNE: It's more likely he bled to death internally after seeing a billiard-eyed green cherub horse clown from hell. He's not gonna talk.
KALARE: 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.
KALARE: Perhaps it might be wise to ask the former cadaver who his assailant happened to be.
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.
NAVELA: What... what happened to you? How?
KALARE: That's quite a story. I'd rather not get into it. But, I'd assume I'll have to tell you all eventually.
ARAEVA: Procrastination isn't going to tell us what you've gotten yourself into, Kal.
KALARE: I guess.
I nod, sliding the Hazel Wand into my pocket.
KALARE: So, shall I begin?
VIRNUL: No.
KALARE: Hah. Anyways, let's begin, with an abridged version. In the essentials, there was once a prophecy in a green universe denoting the second coming of a being otherwise referred to as Psi, the Psi-Godmodder. He was the greatest and most powerful of the reality-manipulators in Minecraft, and was taken on by the armies of the world. Slowly, he was defeated, and banished to the realms of oblivion for eternity.
KALARE: It was foretold that a second Psi would come, and find the Ancestral Artifacts, wherein they would become the Psi-Godmodder, and achieve nigh-complete control of reality. That's where the war I've been fighting comes in. So, there's this guy named Richard; he currently stands at a rank of godmodding approximately one below Psi. He believed he would achieve the prophecy, and with it, ultimate power.
KALARE: He full incapacitated all of us Descendants after obtaining the Artifacts, before--
CARASI: Descendants?
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.'
KALARE: Oh, sorry. I didn't notice you. Assuming you have no qualms with my sudden resurrection, a Descendant is essentially a being empowered by the energy of a Godmodder to defeat them.
KALARE: Anyhow, an alternate version of Doc Scratch (long story) hit Richard in the face with a solid gold godarm, pulled out the Disc of Mojang, and stole the Artifacts. He became the second incarnation of Psi. Given the fact that we had no real other option, we readied ourselves, and he killed us all with a snap of his fingers, both within the server, and here.
NAVELA: What?!
KALARE: It isn't as bad as it sounds. He sent us all to Limbo, wherein we were offered a deal from the Council. It was accepted, and we fought the Gatekeeper of Limbo, composed entirely of failed escapees, for our freedom. During the fight, which was not of much note, in my opinion, I traversed Limbo with a few others, and broke the psychopathically murderous materialized split personality of a god who writes reality through a computer terminal out of his eternal prison, with technology I developed.
VIRNUL: Nice. And he didn't double-kill you as well.
KALARE: Thanks. Finally, us Descendants slew the Gatekeeper, and used its energy to construct a portal out of Limbo, which we all utilized, and which brought me back to the land of the living. There you go. Hah.
Everyone is silent for several moments. It would be reasonable to assume they all believe I am completely insane now.
NAVELA: Kalare... WHY THE HELL ARE YOU STILL PLAYING THAT GAME?! WHY ARE YOU STILL PLAYING IT IF IT *LITERALLY* KILLED YOU?
KALARE: Don't be ridiculous. It's either fight, or watch the complete and utter destruction of a universe.
NAVELA: WE'VE BEEN FLOATING OUT IN THE FURTHEST RING FOR MONTHS BECAUSE YOU'RE TOO BUSY WITH FIGHTING IN YOUR "WAR" TO ACTUALLY DO ANYTHING HERE!
KALARE: That's not what I'm doing. We're fleeing from an indestructible billiard-eyed green cherub horse clown from hell.
ETERNE: Hehehe.
NAVELA: SURE WE ARE! MAYBE YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE THIS IMAGINARY POWER WE GIVE YOU, IF YOU'RE GOING TO USE IT ON A USELESS VIDEO GAME!
KALARE: ...
NAVELA: LET'S MAKE A VOTE! EVERYONE COME OVER *HERE* TO GET RID OF KALARE'S SUPPOSED CHARGE, AND OVER *THERE* TO STAY!
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.
NAVELA: There! Nobody's in command. Now, we can actually get things done.
KALARE: Now, I've just been given exponential amounts of extra time which I can use for things you'll never see, nor wish to. Hah.
Everyone disperses. After a few minutes, I walk over to a particular seat.
KALARE: Hey.
ETERNE: Hey. How's life working for ya?
KALARE: Better than being dead.
ETERNE: Pft.
KALARE: Hah.
KALARE: Out of interest, why is it that you voted for me?
ETERNE: Well, I think Seceip's argument is invalid, and you're more sympathetic to the Dersite side of things.
KALARE: Thanks.
ETERNE: No problem.
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.
And such concludes the flashback, and the explanation for certain events in the slightly more recent past.
Ring of Sorcery: Current Mode Active: Biological. Transmutation II
I draw the Golden Sunsticks. It might be a good idea to heal, given the prevalence of counterattacks within this particular situation. As such, I'd rather not risk anything with the fact that the standard power source of the wands is currently one of the power catalysts for the Eclipse. Therefore, I pull out shards of some odd silvery material from my alchemical bag, and shatter them with a thought, and a burst of amethyst psionic energy. Despite the fact that I've now got Condesce-levels of psionic ability (everything known to the troll race, save the abilities of those defined as lime blooded), I'd rather just stay to elven psionics. You know, the stuff that is both natural to me, and easy to use, thanks to extensive experience. Anyhow, light of multiple frequencies floods out of the shards of frozen sunlight, all flowing into the Golden Sunsticks, energizing them with the necessary power. Why did I not make a healing tool that requires internal power to regenerate? I haven't the slightest idea. Anyhow, the solwood rods glow with green energy. I twist them about, muttering a variety of spells under my breath. Suddenly, a cool breeze kicks up, before slowly accelerating to hurricane-caliber winds. Strangely, the winds do not succeed in tearing any players off of their positions. Odd. Regardless, I flick them in the direction of the most damaged player upon the Right Leg. Suddenly, threads of green light dance onwards, encircling the selected player in moments, before obscuring them in an emerald sheet of potent energies, sustained purely by the unlimited fury of the Green Sun. Ordinarily, this would kill anyone, and instantly destroy everything within hundreds of meters. However, I think I can divert this to regeneration. I'd rather not die to my own stupidity. Tendrils of green plasma seep into the wounds of the player in question. They immediately feel as if they are dying and bleeding from their every orifice. However, this is not remotely what is actually transpiring. Fortuitously, I manage to stabilize the healing magics, and attempt to heal the player in question, at the expense of illusionary pain. The green plasma suddenly arcs backwards, directing itself back into the Golden Sunsticks, which annihilate it in its entirety. I de-equip the twin rods of life. The player who was healed feels a slight burning and bleeding sensation all over their body for several minutes afterward, but is actually healed, despite evidence to the contrary. Hah. Any excess healing that I may incur is directed back to my own health. Whilst I'd appreciate it if I could remain in the land of the living, my avatar's undeath might be an... enlightening ordeal.
If this deal is actually signed, I think I'll set myself on fire, or use any other method of suicide, such as stabbing, drowning, hanging, etc. I do not want this unique... thing we've got here to transform into a money-generating powerhouse that nobody cares about. We can't just ignore the problem. I am afraid we will have to stop, or at least delay it, if we may.
0
I look over the general field, a bright look deep within my eyes. Slowly, the lids droop downwards, obscuring them in mere instants. When they open once more, they appear unnaturally dull, almost clouded. They seem to hold the secrets of hidden knowledge, of eldritch secrets and long-lost mysteries embedded beneath a layer of personality.
Within seconds, the look has vanished. I can assure you with absolute certainty that its effects have not. The sudden ingress and egress of some elder sensation has had a profound impact upon my inspiration, in a mainly negative manner. Given my previous experiences with such inspiration, it will be splendiferous, for me.
I flick my hand somewhat, and my arm begins to exude some sort of twisted aura, a swirling and viscous-appearing mass of almost-dripping gray energy. The space around the aura appears to lurch inwards, dragging any sorts of gases in the general area within the pulsating energies. Moments later, the gray gives way to constantly-vacillating images, shifting fluidly and a sharpness akin to physically being present in the area presented. First, a war-torn battlefield, then various murder scenes and manslaughter cases, and then graveyards.
The constantly shifting images flash past what appears to be a squamous, tentacular form of a size too vast to comprehend (for to comprehend its form is to embrace madness), which opens a piercing eye just before the image changes once more, this time to a… pool table. Strangely, the image does not shift further. Not exactly what I expected. Alas, the fallacy of probability. The ticking of a grandfather clock becomes evident just as I release the energies of the aura.
The aura vanishes, calling forth absolutely nothing. I wait. The clock ticks thrice, though I appear to pay more attention to each tock betwixt. Reality appears to fold away at the seams from my perspective, as I disappear from the vision of all upon the server. I examine my surroundings, noting that I am in a green room (likely owned by a certain white host), extravagantly decorated, with a pool table in the center. I pick up a cue, examining the balls set upon the table.
The cueball is quite normal, as is the eight ball. However, all else seems altered. There are a variety of other balls, though they are not of particular importance, save two. One, marked with a Ω, the other with a much larger Ω. Both are coated with carefully-drawn flowing Tengwar, both vastly differing messages. Immediately deducing what is required of me.
As such, I use the cue to strike the cueball, comme d'habitude. However, as the cueball streaks towards the triangle of set balls, I toss the cue aside. There is a flash of metal, along with a spoken word, and blood drips to the floor, narrowly missing the felt of the table. The balls at the table all begin to lurch about mechanically. The red omega is the only one to get pocketed. I stab the cue through it with a shatter, and walk off.
Elsewhere, UserZero suffers a horrendous physical and mental ailment that feels somewhat akin to being drained of all blood, and shattered to pieces only moments after. I reappear upon the place of battle, hand bandaged and somewhat bloodstained. If nothing else, this shall provide a veritable opening.
(+1 to Twin; +1 to Serpent)
Furtive Knowledge: 5/20 (+2 from Twin and +1 from Serpent) IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
1
A starship suddenly warps out of nowhere, merely lurching into what appears to be this reality. Mauve plasma clinging to the hull slowly dissipates, remnants of travel through infinite pure energy. The only notable features about this ship are the white 'UASG' on the side, and the faded
of archmages long forgotten in the mists of the future's past, and of ancient infidels. Immediately, the thing races toward its target.
A particular server in Universe C of the apparent Trifecta. Hah.
-- atrophicTachyon [AT] began trolling terminalAutocrat [TA] --
AT: HAVE YOU REACHED YOUR DESTINATION AS OF THE CURRENT POINT ON THIS TEMPORAL STREAM?
TA: no
TA: im almost there
TA: why did you send me here of all people
AT: YOUR SKILLS ARE SUITED TO THIS PARTICULAR PROJECT.
AT: MEANING THAT IT DOES NOT SEEM PARTICULARLY RELEVANT TO THE ACTUAL PRESENT, AT LEAST ACCORDING TO HOW IT SHOULD CARRY OUT, CONSIDERING YOU WILL BE ENTERING A TIME PERIOD AROUND FIVE HUNDRED YEARS IN THE PAST.
AT: THE PROJECT IN OF ITSELF IS RATHER SIMPLE--OR, I THOUGHT SO.
TA: thats probably because youre a miserable soulless
AT: I PRESUME THIS IS WHERE YOU STATE THAT YOUR PREVIOUS EMPLOYER WAS FAR MORE HOSPITABLE AND MARGINALLY MORE HUMANE THAN I, IN THE MONTH AND A HALF YOU KNEW HIM.
AT: UNFORTUNATELY FOR YOU, THE LORD-ARCHMAGE KALARE ERELYE, AND BY EXTENT THE AVATAR HE COMMANDED, WHICH HAPPENED TO BE THE PHYSICAL FORM YOU SAW, HAS BEEN OBSCURED FROM MY VISION FOR THE PAST FIVE HUNDRED YEARS, AND MORE LIKELY THAN NOT PERISHED IN THE FIRST CENTURY OF THAT OBFUSCATION.
AT: YOU ARE UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT.
TA: thats obvious
AT: INDEED IT IS.
AT: YOU WILL CONTINUE ON TO THE DESIGNATED LOCATION, AND AID IN THE PROGRESS OF WHAT YOU HAVE DEIGNED TO INITIATE.
AT: IN SEVERAL MINUTES, YOU SHALL ENTER THE UNIVERSE DESIGNATED, AND THIS LOG WILL BE DISRUPTED AS THE SCANNERS ATTEMPT TO RECALIBRATE.
AT: CONTACT ME WHEN YOU HAVE TOUCHED DOWN.
AT: I WISH YOU THE MOST FORTUITOUS OF OUTCOMES, HOWEVER INSINCERELY, AND IT SHOULD BE NOTED THAT YOU MAY DO WHATEVER IS NECESSARY TO ACHIEVE YOUR PURPOSE THERE, AND ALSO EXIT THE PLACE, AS I'D RATHER NOT LOSE YOU, ASSUMING I AM NOT THE ONE TO KILL YOU. AS A WISE MAN ONCE SAID, "WHO ARE WE IF WE DON'T HAVE THE ABILITY TO VIOLENTLY HURT SOMEONE?"
TA: yeah whatever
TA: okay i can see it
TA: its so bright
AT: THE LUMINESCENT GREEN OBJECT DOMINATING YOUR VISION IS WHAT SOME UNDER QUESTIONABLE REASONING HAVE IDENTIFIED AS UNIVERSE C OF THE TRIFECTA, OTHERWISE CONTAINING A UNIVERSE INTENDED TO CONTAIN WHAT APPEARS TO BE AN ALTERNATE VERSION OF ALPHA EARTH PRIME, AND THE DELTA VERSION OF THE CLUSTER OF UNIVERSES DEIGNED !U2, U2, U1, AND !U1, TO STATE A FEW.
AT: I HAVE NEVER BEEN ABLE TO LOCATE THE ALPHA VERSIONS OF THOSE UNIVERSES, AND ONLY KNOW OF THEIR EXISTENCE THROUGH TEXTS AND ELDRITCH WHISPERING. SOME SORT OF RETCON AFFECTING THE PERCEPTION OF THEIR TIMELINES IN THE ENTIRETY, OSTENSIBLY.
TA: i didn't need that much info
AT: THAT IS EXACTLY WHY YOU WERE GRANTED IT.
TA: okay im about to enter.
TA: see ya
TA: <3<
-- terminalAutocrat [TA] was disconnected! --
AT: HAH.
-- atrophicTachyon [AT] ceased trolling terminalAutocrat [TA] --
Suddenly, the ship begins to exude copious amounts of psionic energy oscillating primarily between red, blue, and multiple shades of violet. The psionic energy pulsates rapidly as the craft accelerates to speeds marginally exceeding that of light.
Within minutes, the destination is in sight. 0rigin Point. Immediately, the ship docks, seeming to be calibrating something of note. Moments later, what appears to be a satellite dish retracts, and a pod of some description is fired into the planet, landing without any real damage to the surface of the planet. Can't really afford to incur the wrath of the inhabitants. I am sure that this maneuver will be completely irrelevant, and nobody shall ever hear of its contents again. Fortunately, the ship's origin facility, and by extent, the laws that it follow, have been vastly changed since Erelyean times, or even Nartheonic, back on the facility's home planet. Neither of their policies would have been ideal; one due to planetary tradition, the other merely due to insanity.
The starship departs, returning to wherever it is it came from.
—
Some time later, another player joins the server.
That is, of course, where I come in.
As per usual for me: Anti-Zero, I'll probably end up using highly dubious methods, morally, et cetera. It should also be noted that I am not this 'Kalare Erelye' everyone will likely assume I am. For now, let's just use my username. terminalAutocrat. So, yeah. There's that.
I preface my game by drawing on whatever vast sources of energy this land contains (excluding Yggdrasil, unfortunately) to energize my brain to a point wherein my synapses are firing at around the speed of light, give or take. Utilizing this mental boost, I pull out a pack of cards.
Upon doing this, I begin to shift and shuffle the deck about almost excessively swiftly, muttering under my breath. Three minutes, forty six seconds, and nine nanoseconds pass, until I suddenly toss the deck into the air, catching every card, each of which exude a multitude of violently bright lights of an arcane nature.
I continue to carry out a variety of tricks, each of which ending with progressively greater and more attention-drawing occurrences. This continues until I manage to pique the attention of UserZero. I continue upon noting this when (or if) it occurs, beginning to perform a few of non-Euclidean nature.
The small tears into the fabric of reality are completely ignored as I continue. Then, I announce I am ready for my grand finale. Under the best of circumstances, I have managed to draw the attention of everyone within hundreds of thousands of meters. Then, I plunge my hand deep into the depths of non-Euclidean space. Bursts of liquid nox and tentacular forms seem to drip from around my hands. Suddenly, I draw my hand out, and disappear. The deck of cards just sort of splatters in UserZero's face, and she feels a pang in her back.
If she were to look around, she would note that I had just punched her, for whatever reason. That must be laughable for her. Did I honestly think that would damage her?
That's why I was wearing solid divinium gauntlets topped with spikes made of solid void.
I pull out what appears to be a weathered tome, whispering a few words to it, and marking several things down upon a blank page, most of which appear to be dimensions and material lists. Tomes of such ennui tends to do things of an unsavory nature.
(+2 to the Scribe/Twin/however it is I should address you)
Furtive Knowledge: 1/20 IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
0
GG, everyone. I may not have exactly been present for the last bit of the game--and I think it was for the better--but I can assure you that this was truly a magnificent experience. Thanks to Twin for GMing, you'll hear from me on the ninth, et cetera. Assuming I am not a total idiot, I think I might have something else to add for you all by then, but whatever.
It was a pleasure playing this game, and I certainly wouldn't have had it any other way.
0
As for Twin's little cipher, take this:
DEO (EIGHT TIMES) PUERIS DIABOLUM (FOUR TIMES) PUERUM ACER AD SUZ VICTORIA (TWICE) DEO (EIGHT TIMES) PUERTIS DIABOLUM (FOUR TIMES)
Atbash, and then ROT2, for those who are interested. I am particularly enjoying what that entails. That is to say, if I didn't already have an idea. Hah.
1
I've got an excellent set of words we can use to describe this, instead of an inaccurate word. Indefinite hiatus. We cannot use intermission, as that is plainly not true, and we do not even have a third disc for another End of Disc, which is what occurred the other two times the editor undertook a groundbreaking update.
0
Alas, it is slightly too late for that now. By which I mean two acts too late. Anyhow, we are now REQUIRED to place trigger warnings on every one of our posts when possible.
0
I've sold my own soul around forty-six times. However, the real question is whether or not I actually gave it to those who wanted it.
0
I think the better question might be 'who hasn't sold their soul yet?'
0
Hazel Wand: II (ECLIPSED.)
Ring of Sorcery: Current Mode Active: Abyssal. Inky Epiphany II Abyssal Energies III
Now, for some defense. I'd rather not have to suffer the afflictions of the undead without my personal consent. As such, I pull out the Beat-Skipper, placing it in midair. The second it goes down, the jukebox glows with a pale white light, levitating. Immediately afterwards, I whip out the music disc aptly titled 'Ward,' and slide it into the aperture upon the block's top. I peer into the depths of the Beat-Skipper, and wait. Abruptly, golden creation energies plume from the slit in the top of the jukebox, flowing forth as the potency of the disc is released. I sift through my alchemical bag, and reveal what appears to be a drawstring pouch of wood ash. I take the thing, and pull the strings. With a bit of telekinetic influence, the oak wood ash bursts outwards, spraying everywhere, my goggles luckily protecting my eyes. The wood ash forms a cloud around me, the occasional golden ray of creation gleaning from the core, directly beside me. Given the fact that I am currently within a cloud of dense wood ash, and cannot see anything in any way whatsoever, I place my hands upon the Beat-Skipper, to be certain I cannot lose the power source. The aura of creation expands outwards under my direction, further pushing the limits of the wood ash cloud. The moment the aura begins to brush against the cloud, the ash at the very edges seems to be incinerated with no regards to its existence pre-absorption. I pull Ward out of the Beat-Skipper, and shatter it completely and utterly. Any remaining energy within the disc is dispersed, wherein I immediately utilize it to further defensive measures. Within moments, the aura of creation surpasses the cloud, and becomes a visible shape mere inches from the Incarnate's chestplate, dwarfed by the mecha in comparison. I pick up the Beat-Skipper, and promptly drink a single use's worth of liquid from a Potion Flask. Let's hope this Soul Harden does what I think it will. Suddenly, the creation energies gain a rigid and structured shape, becoming completely solid and as impervious to attacks as my abilities permit it to be. The creation utilizes the inner cloud of wood ash as a catalyst to fall back upon in the event of something destroying the main shield, to fully energize it to distract any undead or projectile/brute force-based opposition long enough for me to force it back telekinetically. The potion's duration should last the remainder of this turn.
0
Hazel Wand: II (ECLIPSED.)
Ring of Sorcery: Current Mode Active: Abyssal. Inky Epiphany II Abyssal Energies III
I stare at several Metal Plates, unusually still. I incline my hand, the fingers twitching slightly. Let's see if I can make this work. Air seems to rush outwards, fleeing from the palm of my hand as it the space it was formerly present in is marred by the essence of eternity. With a series of thoughts and mild gesticulations, a concentrated sphere of ochre energy pulsing with electricity denotes the sudden emergence of some form of sorcery. Within a few moments, innumerable waves of ochre electricity arc towards the Metal Plates, and pound against them, strangely serving to melt, instead of conducting. This should be rather effective. Suddenly, the ochre orb erupts in a blaze of pure energy, completely annihilating an area equivalent to the size of the orb on one of the Metal Plates, leaving nothing behind, including air or empty space. A few sparks of pure golden creation signify something completely different afterwards. Waves of ochre energy and pure electricity emanate from the rather superficial blast point, tearing away at any remnants of the Metal Plate in question, leaving layers of ash and molten metals upon the Incarnate. However, this is not nearly the end of the aftereffects. Suddenly, at the edges of the crater generated by the explosion of the orb, the metals begin to rust. I levitate backwards, watching. Slowly, the Metal Plate begins to rust over entirely, any forms of additives (such as paint) peeling off the second the curse spreads to their general area. A... squamous, thick crimson liquid begins to drip from the edges of the Metal Plate, and bolts of ochre lightning erupt from the Plate occasionally. Less than a minute later, the Metal Plate has been covered completely in rust, still dripping with the organic-seeming fluid. I glance at the Plate, snapping my fingers. A web of stringy dark jade energy arcs from the Plate, and the rust seems to transform, softer, fleshy, crimson-colored, and scaly. Squamous, even. Hah. The organic tissue instantaneously liquifies itself, and begins dripping off of the Metal Plate, completely indistinguishable from the initial drops of the same crimson liquid. I telekinetically drag the rest of the liquid downwards in globules with my mind, amethyst electricity coursing around the general area of my upper skull, pulsating slightly. The oddly soft metallic innards of the Metal Plate begins to warp under some sort of external pressure. I merely stare at the plate, a stoic expression upon my face. Suddenly, the plate is obscured by a massive blast of amethyst energy which sears the retinas of any looking directly upon it, tearing the plate apart as swiftly as possible, before fading away.
0
Hazel Wand: II (ECLIPSED.)
Ring of Sorcery: Current Mode Active: Abyssal. Inky Epiphany II Abyssal Energies III
I head upwards, to the Chestplate.
Now, I suppose it might be a good idea to detail what the best courses of action happen to be. Plan one; we destroy the Chestplate, use the two Raves (who's even eligible for them, at the current moment?) we currently have on both of the Arms to obliterate them, before taking out the Head as a group. This would be ideal, if not for the slight delay thanks to the lack of players in the Left Leg. Plan two; everyone who happens to know what this means, execute the Primary Directive, and carry out the pact we spoke of. This is assuming we cannot deal with the Incarnate in time. We've got less than twelve turns until we are absorbed into the cold grasp of inevitability and oblivion. Do make them count.
Anyways, I absorb well over 280 CV/s of Purus vis in an attempt to remove my Corruption debuff. That is not something I need for the moment. If I succeed, I attempt to obtain small fragments of liquid corruption before they decay away under the light of purification for future study.
0
Hazel Wand: II (ECLIPSED.)
Ring of Sorcery: Current Mode Active: Abyssal. Inky Epiphany II Abyssal Energies III
I gaze upon everything below the Incarnate, before preparing to recede into the relative safety of the mindscape. Whose mindscape, you ask? Well, let's see. How about... you. My eyes come to rest upon Cipher's Call, which suddenly glows with green light, pulsing out plasma rife with the energies of the Green Sun. Let's hope this works. If I succeed, proceed along with this post. If not, disregard the remainder of this action. Ah, Build's mind. What to do within? Nothing disruptive. Being killed by the Eclipse is not exactly desirable. But, hey. That doesn't mean I can't give you some gifts. With a thought, a severed head appears in Build's mindscape, immediately beginning to scream as if his entire lower body below the neck had been forcefully torn off. Hah. Slowly, the upper layers of the head's skin begin to peel off, and the head slowly decomposes, screaming all the while. Hah. That was excellent. But, let's get on with this. Given the fact that you can conjure anything you cam conceive in the brain, I think I'll use it for a bit of spellcraft. Now, the power source. Option one is me just shattering your psyche in its entirety, probably killing me instantly, given the fact that you're exponentially more powerful than I, and hopefully harvesting energy from the fragments. Option two is--no, I'm not doing that, you crazed all-seeing illuminacho; or, not without a 'pay raise,' at least. Sorry, I may or may not be having an internal conversation. Option three is to just use the imaginative potential of the mind to generate what I need. Given the fact that I'm not particularly partial to harming Build, I'll just go with number two. I mean three; definitely three. As such, I examine the actual mindscape in question, noting its structure and anything else particularly spectacular. I proceed to conjure up the purest form of regeneration I can perceive without having to stab myself repeatedly, in the form of a large pond of Ghast Tears in Build's mind. Let's see here. It's time to ABS0RB THE S0ULS 0F CH1LDREN TRAPPED 1N THE1R 0WN TEARS. I leap directly into the pond of Ghast Tears I just generated through thought. Suddenly, the liquid begins flickering with white light. In moments, hundreds of spectral white spheres of ethereal souls rush inwards, plowing into my manifest consciousness. I absorb every single one of them, glowing with a dim white light afterwards. Hah. I clamber out of the pond of tears, leaving it there. That way, you can soak in the soulless pure liquid consciousness of human children whenever you enter your mind, Build. I pull out Providence's Topper. However, instead of putting it on, I wave it in the air, trying to get something out. Centuries-dried bits of what may or may not be your human leader Abraham Lincoln's brain fall out. You know how this hat's real owner got this hat, so that should be good enough for you. I put the hat away. The dried bits of brain diffuse into a jade-green liquid, and seep into the ground. Finally, I snap my fingers. A bright blue flame ignites upon my fingers, spreading into a fireball nigh-instantaneously. I levitate into the air, glowing with octarine light. Now, before I go, allow me to give you a bit of a vision. Suddenly, an indigo inferno bursts to life back on the mindscape's ground. The flames shift about, forming what appears to be a figure that looks suspiciously like Build, clutching his head, before he is crushed by a large amount of blue energy that appears to be a central First Guardian's purest energy, escaping his body. The inferno proceeds to form the visage of a massive cat, which meows once, before the flames disappear. Well, see you around. By which I mean in ten seconds. The last vestiges of souls from the Ghast Tears flow into my body, and I disappear. Then, I open my eyes, awakening on the Right Leg. I feel the life energy of countless souls surging throughout my physical form, healing me, before annihilating themselves, and sending the remnants back to the mental dreamscape from whence they came.
0
Hazel Wand: II (ECLIPSED.)
Ring of Sorcery: Current Mode Active: Abyssal. Inky Epiphany II Abyssal Energies III
Serpent, it's nice to see that you support my entire point. At the very least, you get it. Everyone in my 'little crew' knows full well that they cannot escape, and that they are likely going to die. English is already here, and has been for months. Along with that, you should hope that the fate befalls me first. My death can be nothing but advantageous to you, of all people. Also, I do hope you enjoy the Godslayer, if you didn't notice me giving it to you.
I suddenly whip out the Hazel Wand. Ordinarily, I would utilize it to make some exceedingly convoluted assault, but I am currently suffering from the effects of Corruption. Now, I believe it would be best if I organized some sort of healing attempt. Despite my copious amounts of Runic Shielding, I'd rather not face death this early. Then again, what choice do I have on the matter? I flick the Hazel Wand, and amethyst plasma erupts from the tip of the wand, fluctuating and pulsating with wild abandon. Within instants, tendrils of aubergine plasma of fluctuating color arc downwards, towards Apocalypse Hill. I do hope my skill and knowledge shall be adequate for this particular work of magecraft. The tendrils in question carve into the ground, forming odd shapes and eldritch markings within the earth. When the tentacles off energy retract, they reveal that a oily, black, paste-like chalk has been smeared upon the floor in the patterns directed. The tendrils all move upwards once more, twitching and flailing around my form, all stemming from the tip of the Hazel Wand. I brandish the wand in a manner akin to a whip for a moment, and the tendrils swarm downwards, forming a sort of dome of arcane magics around the marks and circles. The sorcerous tentacles melt through the earth of Apocalypse Hill. I slash the Hazel Wand downwards. As I do so, time seems to slow down relative to my existence alone. My eyes dart about, and I note that everything seems to be shifting into a monochromatic gray.
Progiddginksgi'gijhsgi'nngidtsgi'el gish l'ogievkeljosgi'sgi sgi's pol'ogi'less. Mor wsgi'll osgi'ckgil. Ugil josgi'segi'sgi'p kel.
I attempt to mutter something, yet no sound comes out. Slowly, a wave of violet sorcery appears, directly following the trail of the downward slash. Time continues as normal suddenly, and everything regains color. A blast of pure mauve blows a hole into the center of the arcane circles and markings, initiating some sort of healing ritual. Pure life energy flows across the server locally. I receive a direct boost from the energies of my causation, receiving some health. However, this thing should function as intended. For every 5 HP regained with express intent of fueling this ritual, some amount of damage will be dealt to either the Corruption or Oblivion Joints, depending on the position of the one who used the ritual's power. There. Have your semblance of teamwork. The remainder of the amethyst plasma heads into the plasmic dome, and I carefully place the Hazel Wand in my inventory.
For those who do not possess the time (or patience) to read this, it is essentially a combo that utilizes the healing of players to deal damage to the Joints of either Leg, hopefully.
0
Ring of Sorcery: Current Mode Active: Biological. Transmutation II
I shift the Ring of Sorcery to its 'Abyssal' mode. Ink is knowledge. Knowledge will be rather effective, I suspect.
Suddenly, I'm dying, and corrupted. I draw the Golden Sunsticks. Fortunately, it is stated that attacks with have a chance to fail, hopefully not healing. Fortunately, I now possess approximately 0.0000000000000000000000000000000000000000018 of the Red Sun's power, thanks to that deal. With a flick of my hand, red plasma bursts into existence, swirling around the Golden Sunsticks, emitting obscene amounts of electromagnetic radiation, which is promptly consumed by the Golden Sunsticks to fuel their reparative potency. The plasma floods inwards, being absorbed by the Golden Sunsticks in the first place, seemingly before the plasma was even generated. With a thought, pure, unadulterated creation pours forth from the microscopic apertures into the core of the Sunsticks, giving both of the twin wands an aura of creation. The Sunsticks continue to exude creation energies, as I mutter under my breath, attempting to cast some sort of spell. Instantaneously, waves of Sano vis rocket across the general area, fusing their essence to my wands before annihilating themselves. The Golden Sunsticks steadily grow in power and healing capacity over a time period of several seconds, before expending it all in a singular pulse of regenerative potency, which I immediately utilize to repair as many of my wounds as possible. I'm certainly not a healer, but this should work. The creation energies immediately form a protective veil around me, before converting into gaseous Sano essentia. I begin working mere fractions of a nanosecond later, fully knowing the dangers of unprotected essentia. Hundreds of wards go up in a minute, or two, and the essentia begins to congeal, forming puddles upon the floor. Then, I expend what little remains of the creation energies to form what appears to be suitable containment. The Sano essentia is teleported into the containment, wherein I place what appears to be a Runic Matrix. In moments, the essentia coalesces around the Matrix, forming a Red Sea around the object. I abruptly create an infusive pull. Suddenly, the essentia begins leaving its cloud, heading directly into my avatar in the form of red bubbles. Before they touch me, I convert them to pure regenerative force, which I utilize to heal myself as expediently as possible. With that, I place the Golden Sunsticks back in my inventory.
I suppose I should divulge this information, now. There's no use in withholding it, save to bury it within the darkest depths of my psyche for the remainder of my meaningless existence.
—
11 Súlimë, Trial 4. Around midnight. Universe V2.
Everything is black. An eternal void, pure liquid nothingness spread amongst a sea of empty shadow. Silence-wrought eternal void in a realm of vision likely beyond my perception. I do hope this gateway has worked. Preferably to the point of returning me to my initial state, instead of casting me, along with the other Descendants, into a deeper form of Limbo, wherein we shall suffer for the rest of existence. I realize that my lungs are emptying. I tense up, awaiting the return to life. If it shall ever come. Several intense minutes pass, but nothing seems to occur. Perhaps this was all a grandiloquently-prepared lie said to be rescue from Limbo. Perhaps I am now dead for the remainder of eternity. Just a ghost, lost and mindless. Just as I exhale the last fraction of air from my lungs into the inky vestiges and infinite vortices of the void around me, I feel as if I am slamming into the ground, yet staying perfectly still. The noises of life occur around me. Or rather, swift typing, footsteps, and talking. Ah, it's good to be back. I lay upon what appears to be the hard, cold, metallic floor, feeling the panels of the meteor's common room. I do not open my eyes; you never know what--or who--could be standing above me, prepared to stab me the second I move. I feel the familiar weight and cold touch of the Hazel Wand in my right hand, just lying there. The screams, shouts, cries, utterances, and pleading of the imminently deceased fill my head once more. I stay still upon the ground, attempting to imitate rigor mortis. I hear the footsteps of several people entering the common room. Then, several moments later, somewhat abruptly, the door slams shut.
What have I missed? I don't want to know, actually. Likely large amounts of their normal routine. Eterne speaks first.
ETERNE: Are you seriously asking that? We don't know. It's as simple as that.
NAVELA: Yes, I'm asking that. You're not telling me you didn't kill him.
ETERNE: Look, just because you think Kalare had a personal vendetta against--
NAVELA: I know for a fact that he did!
VIRNUL: Yeah, this is stupid. Arguing isn't getting us anywhere.
ARAEVA: Please, just stop shouting.
ETERNE: Yeah. So, care to continue indiscriminately accusing?
NAVELA: I'm not accusing indiscriminately. You're kind of the only one here who can kill someone without leaving a mark.
VIRNUL: And that's where you're making assumptions. In case you haven't noticed, Araeva and I can do that. So could Kalare. Because he's one for suicide, definitely.
I see. So, Navela wishes to figure out who killed me. Hah.
KALARE: 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.
NAVELA: ...
ARAEVA: ...
ETERNE: Hehe.
VIRNUL: Hey.
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.
NAVELA: What... what happened to you? How?
KALARE: That's quite a story. I'd rather not get into it. But, I'd assume I'll have to tell you all eventually.
ARAEVA: Procrastination isn't going to tell us what you've gotten yourself into, Kal.
KALARE: I guess.
I nod, sliding the Hazel Wand into my pocket.
KALARE: So, shall I begin?
VIRNUL: No.
KALARE: Hah. Anyways, let's begin, with an abridged version. In the essentials, there was once a prophecy in a green universe denoting the second coming of a being otherwise referred to as Psi, the Psi-Godmodder. He was the greatest and most powerful of the reality-manipulators in Minecraft, and was taken on by the armies of the world. Slowly, he was defeated, and banished to the realms of oblivion for eternity.
KALARE: It was foretold that a second Psi would come, and find the Ancestral Artifacts, wherein they would become the Psi-Godmodder, and achieve nigh-complete control of reality. That's where the war I've been fighting comes in. So, there's this guy named Richard; he currently stands at a rank of godmodding approximately one below Psi. He believed he would achieve the prophecy, and with it, ultimate power.
KALARE: He full incapacitated all of us Descendants after obtaining the Artifacts, before--
CARASI: Descendants?
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.'
KALARE: Oh, sorry. I didn't notice you. Assuming you have no qualms with my sudden resurrection, a Descendant is essentially a being empowered by the energy of a Godmodder to defeat them.
KALARE: Anyhow, an alternate version of Doc Scratch (long story) hit Richard in the face with a solid gold godarm, pulled out the Disc of Mojang, and stole the Artifacts. He became the second incarnation of Psi. Given the fact that we had no real other option, we readied ourselves, and he killed us all with a snap of his fingers, both within the server, and here.
NAVELA: What?!
KALARE: It isn't as bad as it sounds. He sent us all to Limbo, wherein we were offered a deal from the Council. It was accepted, and we fought the Gatekeeper of Limbo, composed entirely of failed escapees, for our freedom. During the fight, which was not of much note, in my opinion, I traversed Limbo with a few others, and broke the psychopathically murderous materialized split personality of a god who writes reality through a computer terminal out of his eternal prison, with technology I developed.
VIRNUL: Nice. And he didn't double-kill you as well.
KALARE: Thanks. Finally, us Descendants slew the Gatekeeper, and used its energy to construct a portal out of Limbo, which we all utilized, and which brought me back to the land of the living. There you go. Hah.
Everyone is silent for several moments. It would be reasonable to assume they all believe I am completely insane now.
NAVELA: Kalare... WHY THE HELL ARE YOU STILL PLAYING THAT GAME?! WHY ARE YOU STILL PLAYING IT IF IT *LITERALLY* KILLED YOU?
KALARE: Don't be ridiculous. It's either fight, or watch the complete and utter destruction of a universe.
NAVELA: WE'VE BEEN FLOATING OUT IN THE FURTHEST RING FOR MONTHS BECAUSE YOU'RE TOO BUSY WITH FIGHTING IN YOUR "WAR" TO ACTUALLY DO ANYTHING HERE!
KALARE: That's not what I'm doing. We're fleeing from an indestructible billiard-eyed green cherub horse clown from hell.
ETERNE: Hehehe.
NAVELA: SURE WE ARE! MAYBE YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE THIS IMAGINARY POWER WE GIVE YOU, IF YOU'RE GOING TO USE IT ON A USELESS VIDEO GAME!
KALARE: ...
NAVELA: LET'S MAKE A VOTE! EVERYONE COME OVER *HERE* TO GET RID OF KALARE'S SUPPOSED CHARGE, AND OVER *THERE* TO STAY!
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.
NAVELA: There! Nobody's in command. Now, we can actually get things done.
KALARE: Now, I've just been given exponential amounts of extra time which I can use for things you'll never see, nor wish to. Hah.
Everyone disperses. After a few minutes, I walk over to a particular seat.
KALARE: Hey.
ETERNE: Hey. How's life working for ya?
KALARE: Better than being dead.
ETERNE: Pft.
KALARE: Hah.
KALARE: Out of interest, why is it that you voted for me?
ETERNE: Well, I think Seceip's argument is invalid, and you're more sympathetic to the Dersite side of things.
KALARE: Thanks.
ETERNE: No problem.
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.
And such concludes the flashback, and the explanation for certain events in the slightly more recent past.
0
Hazel Wand: IIIIII (ECLIPSED.)
Ring of Sorcery: Current Mode Active: Biological. Transmutation II
I draw the Golden Sunsticks. It might be a good idea to heal, given the prevalence of counterattacks within this particular situation. As such, I'd rather not risk anything with the fact that the standard power source of the wands is currently one of the power catalysts for the Eclipse. Therefore, I pull out shards of some odd silvery material from my alchemical bag, and shatter them with a thought, and a burst of amethyst psionic energy. Despite the fact that I've now got Condesce-levels of psionic ability (everything known to the troll race, save the abilities of those defined as lime blooded), I'd rather just stay to elven psionics. You know, the stuff that is both natural to me, and easy to use, thanks to extensive experience. Anyhow, light of multiple frequencies floods out of the shards of frozen sunlight, all flowing into the Golden Sunsticks, energizing them with the necessary power. Why did I not make a healing tool that requires internal power to regenerate? I haven't the slightest idea. Anyhow, the solwood rods glow with green energy. I twist them about, muttering a variety of spells under my breath. Suddenly, a cool breeze kicks up, before slowly accelerating to hurricane-caliber winds. Strangely, the winds do not succeed in tearing any players off of their positions. Odd. Regardless, I flick them in the direction of the most damaged player upon the Right Leg. Suddenly, threads of green light dance onwards, encircling the selected player in moments, before obscuring them in an emerald sheet of potent energies, sustained purely by the unlimited fury of the Green Sun. Ordinarily, this would kill anyone, and instantly destroy everything within hundreds of meters. However, I think I can divert this to regeneration. I'd rather not die to my own stupidity. Tendrils of green plasma seep into the wounds of the player in question. They immediately feel as if they are dying and bleeding from their every orifice. However, this is not remotely what is actually transpiring. Fortuitously, I manage to stabilize the healing magics, and attempt to heal the player in question, at the expense of illusionary pain. The green plasma suddenly arcs backwards, directing itself back into the Golden Sunsticks, which annihilate it in its entirety. I de-equip the twin rods of life. The player who was healed feels a slight burning and bleeding sensation all over their body for several minutes afterward, but is actually healed, despite evidence to the contrary. Hah. Any excess healing that I may incur is directed back to my own health. Whilst I'd appreciate it if I could remain in the land of the living, my avatar's undeath might be an... enlightening ordeal.