#stuff like vorpal blade | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gamerkats · 2 years ago

Text

The Night Before Boxing Day 12 of Those Lords are Leaping

Word Count: 2,600+

“The Vorpal Blade, the White Rabbit,” Andy grumbled from the bathroom floor of the small airport, “did anyone read anything other than Lewis Carroll?”

“I can’t account for this Vorpal Blade you’re all terrorized by, but I can explain the White Rabbit,” Chad rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, and closed his dark brown eyes. He’d always known he couldn’t keep Alice’s secret forever. However, these three weren’t who he envisioned revealing it to.

“Please,” Chase almost pleaded, his handsome features resembling a desperate puppy, “tell me what happened to Alice. I’ve known Sarah all my life. Girl next door and all that. But Alice and Joyce took care of me when I was little; after my mother passed away. Then, when my dad died—”

“Jesus,” Andy sighed and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the tiled wall, “can your backstory get any sadder?” His face was throbbing now, and he couldn’t tell the heat from bleeding versus the bruising anymore. Tyler might have the upper hand at the moment, but it wouldn’t be the case for long. Andy didn’t come here alone, after all.

“Unfortunately, this is a pretty normal backstory,” Chase narrowed his gaze at Andy, “There are many people who lose one or both of their caregivers. I’m not saying I had it rough. The opposite, in fact, because I was fortunate enough to have a support system through Sarah’s mothers. I was seventeen when my father drank himself to join my mom. It was Joyce and Alice who helped me stay out of the system and be on my own. They also kicked my ass into going to college, and even gave me work so I could support myself. When Alice died I…” His voice trailed off in a staggered memory as he turned away from them. A fist tightening at his side as he clenched his teeth to ground himself. Crying wasn’t something he wanted to do right now, especially not in front of these three.

“She was obviously far kinder to you than me,” Chad gave a soft chuckle; the sound causing Tyler to grin.

“But that’s just it,” Chase nearly yelled, his eyes a rage of questions, “why do you know this? Did you help her fake her own death?”

“Yes.”

This only fueled the burning emotions in Chase. “What?! Why?! How?! Why did she go to you and not me?! I could have helped her! I know all kinds of places she could have gone! Why you? You only care about yourself! She knows I would have done anything for her!! Sarah, Allison, Joyce, Alice; they’re all I have! I would die to keep them safe!”

“Then why did you run away to Canada?”

Chad’s question hung like an ugly portrait. No matter how much anyone wanted to avert their gaze, it was fixed on each truthful imperfection. Tyler and Andy both held the same face of, Oh snap!, but neither said a word. They simply shifted their sight between one man and the other.

Chad wasn’t wrong. Chase knew that. He had run away. But the reason was his own business, not Chad’s. Perhaps he had been a coward, hiding behind the guise of trying to do good works in the world. Perhaps he wanted to see if he could have actually stood on his own for once, instead of always leaning on Sarah to be the strong one. To be his rock and support. Either way, his absence was felt, and Chad had been used to fill the void. A fact both of them knew quite well, as it continually left a bitter aftertaste at the thought.

“I…” Chase started to say, his angular shoulders drooping in such a way that he looked like a model for Sad Times Magazine. Even Chad felt a little bad at making this pretty man almost cry.

“Look,” Chad sighed heavily, rolling his eyes as if to change the vibe channel, “whatever you’re thinking, let it go. We have a lot of other problems right now. Alice isn’t who you think she is. She’s not a small business jam maker. She’s a member of the 1-D3RL4ND Cards.”

“Oh shit, really?” Tyler’s expression was pure stunned as Andy gave a surprised laugh saying, “It’s always the people you least expect.”

“Wonderland?” Chase replied raising his brow, “That’s a weird name for a cartel.”

“It’s pronounced the same as Wonderland, but it’s spelled in Leet,” Chad corrected, easing in his stance as he spoke. “1-D3RL4ND is a place, not a cartel. A highly secure digital space that’s always moving. The servers are physically moved around in the world, and IP addresses are bounced like pinball machines when working. And you can’t just logon to a computer and enter a password. The digital space is always moving. In order to go, you need to know where the Tarts are hidden. And before you ask, Tarts are what they call phones, iPads, and computers that have been placed in the real world to be used for a limited time before they spoil.”

“1-D3RL4ND is the bane of all law enforcement,” Tyler sounded almost reverent as he added onto Chad’s explanation. “It’s impossible for anyone to find, unless you contact a Knave of Hearts who will steal a Tart for you. But, once you’ve found your way into the gardens, you can literally buy anything with anything. Money and crypto isn’t accepted; 1-D3RL4ND exists exclusively on trading goods and services for goods and services.”

“Not a good way to earn money,” Chase muttered louder than he intended as Andy chuckled from below.

“These are people who already have money,” he sneered, “but they need things that money can’t buy, or at least, buy easily and untraced.”

“But,” Chase brought his gaze from Andy back to Chad, “why would Alice be involved in that? She didn’t have much money.”

“She’s far more well off than you think,” Chad answered, “and as for the why, you’d have to ask her. 1-D3RL4ND is run by a secret group known as the Cards, with each member ranked by the Card they carry. Alice is the White Rabbit, the only Card member who brings in new people to 1-D3RL4ND. She knows everything about everything. In normal circles, she’d be called a shadow broker of secrets. It’s why she’s the only one trusted with granting access to 1-D3RL4ND. She might not be the highest-ranking Card, but she’s the most feared.”

“That makes sense,” Tyler nodded in thought, rubbing his jaw absentmindedly, “she holds everyone’s secrets, and in essence, is holding ‘all the Cards’. No wonder she went underground and hid here in Christianville.”

“Exactly,” Chad looked to him; Tyler’s handsome features still making him a bit bashful. “Joyce and Alice thought they could balance their dark lives with being moms. And they did, for awhile. But something happened. I’m not sure what, and I don’t really care. But when Allison and Sarah started getting older, Joyce and Alice made the decision to get out of the business. They quit 1-D3RL4ND, and went into hiding here in Christianville. But somehow, their identities were discovered and Alice had no choice, but to go back to her life as the White Rabbit. It’s the only way she can protect her family right now.” Turning to Chase, who stared at him as wide-eyed as ever, he added, “Alice didn’t go to you because she thought you couldn’t help. She came to me, because I had resources you didn’t.”

“Money?” Chase asked bitterly as Chad shook his head revealing, “Not just money. I’m a Card.”

This was a surprise to all, including Tyler who stated, “You. A Card. That’s uncharacteristic for someone so…”

“Handsome?” Chad smirked as Tyler’s tone flatly replied, “Altruistic.”

“Not everyone who is a Card member is a rich supervillain,” Chad laughed, “some of us are actually using 1-D3RL4ND to do good.”

“Of course, you are,” Tyler groaned, running a hand through his perfect haircut. “Makes sense now why all the off-the-books oil and pesticides are snapped up in seconds. A bunch of do-gooders forcing the rest of us to do good.”

“Ah,” Chad’s eyes gave a look of, I might have known, as he asked, “Eight of Spades?”

“Please,” he seemed almost hurt by the low assumption, “I’m obviously a Queen.”

“I would marry no less,” Chad’s admiration was audible, as Tyler held a pride now in his countenance.

“Wait,” Andy piped up with a slight pop and shake of his joints, “did you say marry?”

“Got a problem with that?” Chad tightened his grip upon the plastic gun in such a way that Andy was reminded he had it.

Raising his hand in a shaky defense he pleaded, “Whoa, wait, no, not at all! I might be a villain, but I’m not a homophobic piece of shit. Those are the people you should be pistol whipping. Not honest, hardworking dirt bags like me.”

“You’re engaged? Weren’t you asking Sarah to marry you this morning?” The bewilderment on Chase’s face found every syllable in that sentence.

“That was hours ago, man,” Chad sighed as Chase made a sound of, “Wha—”

“Geeze, Chase,” Tyler chimed in, “you need to learn to move on in your life. It’s not good for your health.” Before Chase could defend himself, Tyler squared his stance toward Chad adding, “Speaking of health, I think you should take the soft doctor and go wait all of this out in the Security Office. It’s either next to the janitorial closet or it doubles as the janitorial closet; it’s not entirely clear based on signage. I’ll take Andy and meet Brandon and get this all sorted in a few hours.”

“I’m going to gloss over the fact that you just told me to stay behind and wait for you, like I’m now the poorly written female lead receiving a misogynistic dismissal,” Chad dusted a few specks of nothing off of Tyler’s tailored suit jacket, “and instead I’ll say, what’s Plan B?”

“Chad,” Tyler started but was cutoff by the words, “Before you start saying this isn’t my fight, or some other trash, let me remind you, we’re engaged. Remember? Equal partners. That means equal buckets of shit. Quit acting like you’re the only one with ghosts trying to stab you. The only difference between you and me right now, is that when I exorcise mine, they stay gone.”

“Well, maybe we should use your priest then,” Tyler huffed, absolutely not liking the idea of Chad possibly being subject to the Vorpal Blade.

“Consider me ordained to take out the trash, then,” the smug look made Tyler even more uncertain.

“You don’t understand,” he instinctively rubbed the scar upon his shoulder, hidden beneath his high thread counts. Even now, it still ached like the wound from a high fantasy weapon. “If this world had actual super powers, the Vorpal Blade would be a boogeyman. They’re stronger than you think. Faster. Smarter even. This isn’t your run-of-the-mill city park vigilante in a costume.”

“They’re human,” Chad shrugged, “and that makes them fallible. Trust me, spend years at sea and you’ll know the difference between fighting something human, and fighting something supernatural. Maybe before they were a boogeyman, but you didn’t have what you have now to face them with.”

“You?” Tyler quirked a teasing brow, but Chad simply nodded with, “Goddamn right me. I’m not saying that they’re going to be easy. But together, this motherfucker has seen their last Christmas. Also, Chase isn’t staying in the Security Office either.”

“What? Why?” Both Tyler and Chase asked in unison, with equal amounts of confusion.

“Because,” Chad kept himself from laughing at them, “based on the limited information I’ve been given, it sounds like this Vorpal Blade uses some kind of drugs to get things done. No one can best that many people and string them up in a barn on their own. So, I’m guessing something aerosolized or ingested. Chase is a doctor. We’re going to need him to help with that kind of thing.”

“You’re not wrong,” Tyler nodded, much to Chase’s exasperation, “I don’t have any proof of exactly what, but the way the Vorpal Blade is able to take down certain targets, I think drugs or poison is a big assist.”

“Damn it,” Chase hung his head, rubbing his eyes, “fine. Yes. Besides, taking out serial killers probably comes with injuries. But what about Sarah?”

“Like I said,” Chad replied, “I think she’s probably involved. But you don’t have to worry about her or Allison. Their mothers raised them to be carbon copies of themselves. They’ll be okay.”

“Oh,” Tyler slapped a fist in his open palm in realization, “Sarah’s sister’s mother, is actually Sarah’s other mother. Very cool. That sounds like a nice almost-family you had.”

“Thank you. And you were thinking it was some kind of side piece, trashy backwoods broken family when I said that, huh?” Chad smirked as Tyler sheepishly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck replying, “Yeah, well, it is Christianville, Virginia, after all.”

“Which is apparently overrun by secrets upon secrets,” Chase sounded quite overwhelmed by all of this, “maybe the whole state is just one big cover, and there aren’t any real toxic Christians around.”

“I’ve been here for exactly one day, and I can tell you, this is like ground zero for toxic bible radiation,” Andy drew all attention to him once more, “But, there’s one thing I still don’t get. Who is Joyce if there’s only one White Rabbit?”

“Why does that matter?” Chad asked, as Andy shrugged saying, “I dunno. Just something that will keep me up at night if you don’t tell me.”

“Someone who chased Alice for a really long time,” Chad replied, leaving it at that as Andy gave a face saying, “Fair enough.”

“So, should we assume that the Vorpal Blade is already here?” Chad asked Tyler who shook his head with, “No. If they were, we’d know it by now. They like to play with their prey. Andy, how many of your men are waiting for us outside?”

“Three.”

“So, five,” Tyler countered as Andy’s face lit up in angered surprise.

“What?!”, he exclaimed, “Now how in the fuck did you know that?”

“You always undercut your numbers by at least two,” he was almost bored by the question as Chad mumbled an impressed, “You certainly know your people.”

“I have to,” Tyler crossed his arms upon his chest, “it’s the only way to survive when you’re a rich supervillain who can’t trade fast enough for oil. Okay then, five armed goons. Knowing Jacobs, at least one of them will be highly skilled in hand-to-hand fighting. Does anyone have any kind of badass combat skills we could use?”

“I do,” a new voice joined them now, drawing all eyes to the entrance of the bathroom. There stood the gorgeous, broad, rippling chiseled, muscled physique of a man dressed in boot-cut dark wash jeans, combat boots, and an 80’s hair band t-shirt already splattered in fresh blood. His dark blond hair, that normally dusted his shoulders, was tied back in a sexy mess of a man-bun; a bit heavy with light sweat or melted snow, with a few stray pieces of bangs for perfect facial framing. Golden hazel eyes, square jawed, clean shaven; literally everything Chad feared after hearing his deep, sultry voice on the phone. “And for the record,” the man went on, “there were two hand-to-hand fighters. Each with a hunter’s knife.”

“Who’s this guy now?” Chase asked looking between everyone. Chad appeared the most displeased he’d ever seen to date, while Tyler introduced, “Everybody, meet my romantic rival, Brandon Remington.”

Night Before Boxing Day Continued

For scrolling brevity, we'll be splitting up in 8 chapter increments on Tumblr.

Read Chapters 1 - 8 on Tumblr here.

Also available to read on GamerKAts AO3

The Night Before Boxing Day No, Nope, No way, 9

Words: 2300+

The farmhouse had been abandoned for at least a year. Some things were dilapidated from neglect, or disuse, but most was simply dusty. The furnishings and decorations were old, but that only showed the state of finances for the previous occupants. Having lasted this long from their original purchase dates, age didn’t denote care. Not that the current group shared the previous family’s sentiment; sweating glasses of liquor without coasters, cigars being put out anywhere it pleased them. This was a stage, nothing more, and one they planned to burn to the ground when this was done.

Mr. Jacobs had purchased the farm, in cash, above asking price, from the elderly couple about the same time the house began collecting dust. The property was quite sizable, and held a few different structures; a barn, a horse stable, a ranch-hand house, a mother-in-law annex, and a sizeable quonset greenhouse. The rest was either woods or fields.

It was isolated. Quiet. Perfect.

The original idea had been to turn this property into a money laundering venture for Tyler. After all, this was Amber’s home territory, so that kept the place from looking suspicious. And it would be easy to move deals of cash back and forth through the guise of raising champion horses.

However, when the Vorpal Blade returned, everything changed.

For eight years, the Vorpal Blade had been the shared nightmare of everyone in the criminal underground. From cartels, to mafia, to street gangs, all the way up into white collars. When they closed their wicked eyes at night, the Vorpal Blade was there. Whining hooks on clinking chains. The constant drip, drip, drip of blood like a broken faucet. Hearing the words snicker snack whispered behind them before everything turned red and black.

To the Vorpal Blade, they were the Jabberwock. The monsters who preyed upon the innocent. And it wasn’t far from the truth; as crime is a fire, and innocent people are the logs of which it feeds upon. The only way to not get burned, is to become a flame yourself. And the Vorpal Blade snicker snacked the hottest of all of them.

A vigilante of the worst kind. One that didn’t turn them into the cops, or bring down their enterprises. A vigilante that stalked whomever, whenever, and for as long as it pleased them before the kill. No rhyme or reason to it. No warning.

When you were the chosen Jabberwock, your time came to a whimpering, abrupt end on a cold, steel hook, as you hung upside down; watching your blood paint a bouquet of white roses red.

But Tyler had brought an end to that. Making it his personal mission to hunt down the Vorpal Blade, and make the world safer for villains once more. It was part of why the criminal underworld revered Tyler as a saint. He was their savior, and his seat of power became untouchable and coveted.

Yet, it seemed Tyler’s own blade wasn’t sharp enough. For the Vorpal Blade was back. And vengeance seemed to mean more than their original patterns.

The Vorpal Blade killed innocent people. Innocent farmers. That wasn’t normal. And that kind of unhinged, unpredictability, meant that if Mr. Jacobs didn’t work fast, and careful, there was no telling how big of a rose garden would be painted this time.

And that meant enlisting the help of someone he never, in a million years, would have ever contacted on his own. Someone he feared almost as much as the Vorpal Blade.

The Wraith.

Which is how he ended up in this place. The money laundering horse farm, currently only laundering confidence into cowardice. Standing downstairs while he, and the others, listened to a loud bang of a door, then more banging, raised feminine voices, and the eventual return of a groaning, muttering son of a European crime family.

“Mr. Evanhart,” Mr. Jacobs smiled his glinting grin, “my, what a number Miss Allison did on your face.”

“That’s not Alli’s work,” Sarah piped up, tying her long, full sunshine hair in a twisting bun. “Your man wouldn’t be returning at all if Alli had been involved.”

“So, the cat does have claws then,” Mr. Jacobs mused to himself. “We’ll need to be more careful when approaching her next. You didn’t harm Amber, did you?”

“Of course not,” Mr. Evanhart grumbled, wondering if he might need something cold on his throbbing cheek, “you think I want the Wraith on my ass too? Bad enough I’m jumping every time I hear anything that fucking remotely sounds like chains. I don’t need to be on two serial killer lists.”

“Ah, a common mistake. The Vorpal Blade, is a serial killer,” Mr. Jacobs corrected, “the Wraith, however, is a contract killer.”

“What’s the diff?” Mr. Evanhart gave a cool warning stare in the rotund man’s direction. Mr. Jacobs might have been calling the shots, but he was no Tyler. He was replaceable. Unlike himself, who was actual criminal royalty. So, his patience only went so deep and far in that regard.

“Most serial killers can’t help themselves; it’s a need, a drug. Killing is like breathing. They tend to get sloppy, as their talents are unsophisticated. And for most of them, they’re driven by attention,” Sarah replied, much to the shock of the surrounding people.

She was the last one they thought would have a say in this. In fact, none of them even knew why Mr. Jacobs had involved her. Just a seemingly bland, blonde, easy to ignore, fuckable romance lead; with the hobbies and aspirations of a blowup doll. The kind slapped in wherever the writers wanted people to phase the woman out, and imagine themselves in her place. But this cardboard cutout spank bank—who was written to be worthy of a gorgeous doctor, who did, indeed, model underwear to put himself through med school—seemed to have an actual brain. And dare they even think, possibly more to her character as a whole.

“It’s why Tyler was able to track the Vorpal Blade down,” Sarah went on, “because serial killers leave clues and breadcrumbs. It’s a game. They want to be caught. Whereas, contract killers, the good ones, are the complete opposite. They’re professionals. They’re paid. It’s not a game, it’s a job. And if you get caught at your job, then you don’t work anymore. Simple as that.”

Everyone was quiet as they watched Sarah. She was something else entirely from what they previously thought. And it echoed in each word she said, as if her true self was a well so deep, it swallowed all romantic, lead female light. “Anyone can kill,” she stated plainly, seeing that no one else was going to speak, “if you kill more than one person, poof, you’re a serial killer. But that doesn’t make you a professional.” Turning to Mr. Jacobs, she asked, “Is that what the Wraith told you to do? Turn my little sister into a serial killer by murdering Amber and Mae?”

“No,” he shook his head slow to emphasize his answer, “this is just a good opportunity and we shouldn’t waste it. We’re luring the Vorpal Blade here with all of the biggest targets he could possibly want. Having Amber and Mae killed by Tyler’s gun would just be an added benefit.”

“How so?” She kept her arms at her sides, and eased back on her heels.

He shrugged, so cavalierly about her sister’s mental and emotional future, that she wanted to punch his eye straight through the back of his skull. “Getting Tyler out of the way would be a benefit to all of us. I sent Andy, and a few others, to round him up at the airport and drive him aimlessly around all night. That way, he doesn’t have any sort of alibi for his actions. The Wraith deals with the Vorpal Blade, Allison kills Amber and Mae, Tyler goes to prison, Allison has a reason to keep her mouth shut, and we all go back to business as usual.”

“Why not just kill Tyler?”

“Because,” he raised a brow, “Tyler is more valuable alive. It’s why trigger-happy Andy gets only a plastic toy gun. I’m not risking Tyler getting killed in case your employer can’t do the job. Nor am I going to risk open crime warfare for any Brutus who gets pissed we moved against Caesar.”

There it was. The reason. And it brought with it a heap of respect she could feel on her shoulders. Sarah worked for the Wraith. And although, none of them could figure out how a token female like her could end up with one of the world’s greatest assassins, they didn’t dismiss it. This puffed coat princess, was also a dragon in her own right.

“What a perfect little package that is,” Sarah said sarcastically before narrowing her gaze, “except that that’s not happening. You were told to bring all of the crime family heads you could here. To this farm. All under the guise of setting Tyler up; hence why you were told to abduct Amber and Mae. This is supposed to look like you’re all about to group stab Tyler; to look like you’re about to move out from under his thumb. A perfect set up that this new Vorpal Blade won’t be able to miss. Their shortsighted justice addiction won’t let them.” Pausing for a breath, steadying her resolve, she added, “This, in no way, was supposed to be a real setup of Tyler, nor is any harm to come to Amber, Mae, or my sister. If you’re not going to abide by the rules, then I’m calling my employer and telling them this whole thing is off. If my little sister is figuratively going on the hook, then literally, so are all of you.”

“Well,” his voice held a mocking chuckle, “for a half sister, you seem to be wholly invested.”

“My family is my business,” she snapped with the chord he struck, “just as you should be focusing on yours. If you want to take down Tyler, do it on your own time. Going rogue like this is only going to blow this entire thing. And the Wraith doesn’t take kindly to rogues. One word from me, and they’ll join the Vorpal Blade. Hell, probably even beat him to the punch by killing every last one of you.”

“Which is why after the Wraith deals with the Vorpal Blade, we’ll be dealing with the Wraith,” his confidence shook his cheeks as snickers and chuckles wafted around her.

“What?”

“God, you really are a dumb blonde, aren’t you?” Mr. Jacobs gave a waddled laugh. “Did you honestly think that any of these people would come just because your employer said so? Because I said so? They’re here because we’re cleaning house. Tyler Walker, Chadrick Winters, the Vorpal Blade, the Wraith, are all going down tonight. None of us will have to look in our shadows again. Merry fucking Christmas to us.”

She was the one to laugh now; a hearty bag of mockery that stole all the grins around her, leaving only scowls. “You’re all serious. Oh, that’s rich. That’s fucking hilarious. You take down the Wraith? You’re all a bunch of lazy cake toppers with frosting between your legs. You couldn’t punch a single person if they weren’t tied helplessly to a chair.”

Wham.

The balled fist of Mr. Jacobs connected with her cheek. It wasn’t that fast, and she’d turned her head with the blow to avoid most of the damage, but still, what little she caught hurt. Nothing broken or cracked, just warming now, showing that he’d shut her up. “What was that about punching?” He asked glaring; the icing was now a bitter lemon in her eyes.

“Do you honestly think that was a good idea?” Her voice dropped as low as her hazel gaze upon the floor, as if he’d shaken her bravado right from her skull.

“Oh, indeed I do,” he grinned, “in fact, it’s part of my plan. See, I need your boss focused. Single minded focus. Tunnel vision. So, Allison might be the unexpected future murderer, but you, my dear, were never going to leave here alive.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” She asked as her mind began to race over this turn of events.

Mr. Jacobs moved from their position more into the living area. There was a low table full of expensive liquor and glasses. Opening an insolated steel box, he removed two perfectly square ice cubes with prongs, and placed them in a designer cut glass. “Sarah,” he spoke over her shoulder while she slowly straightened her stance, “the Vorpal Blade has changed tactics. He’s killing innocent people now. Innocent people like you.”

“You’re not serious,” she snapped, “my employer—”

“Your employer,” he raised his voice over hers, smothering her into silence, “isn’t going to see anything but their little pet, hanging from chains over a bouquet of beautiful, white roses.”

Pouring the alcohol into his glass, as the ice clinked back and forth, he took a savoring sip before looking to her once more. Their eyes locked; hers a now frantic hazel, his a pale, piercing blue. The moment sat heavy between them before he motioned with his hand to the large, brown box that Sarah had delivered. The one he’d asked her to pick up at the small town post office. The one he’d imported from the same area the Vorpal Blade had been discovered by Tyler to use. “Tell me, since you obviously didn’t look inside the package I had you bring, what did you think you were delivering?”

And just like that, without even lifting the lid, she knew. It was her own roses she’d be painting red.

28 notes · View notes

crimsoncrosses · 7 years ago

Photo

"I am thou, Thou art I. Your passion burns hot, but you wish your vengeance cold. So be it. I shall be your vengeance. Let us show the naysayers the Chill of Death!" "Yes… come to me, Xanos!"

#Xanos would make a cool persona #I think he'd have the bufu skills and some physical skills #stuff like vorpal blade

6 notes · View notes

thenamesblurrito · 2 years ago

Note

Sorry if this is a dumb ask, but for SNAP, who do all of the Relics originally belong to? I know somw, like Requiem Blaster belonged to Megatronus, and Star Saber belonged to Prima, but I don't know all of them. I'd like to know you're full Thirteen/whatever amount there are.

this is the OPPOSITE of a dumb ask, this is a very good and important ask that i don't think i've gotten before! i've sort of mentally charted out the important stuff but never written it down so thanks for kicking me into gear on that. some of this info you can find here btw, as well as other info on how relics work

this is a long list of Primal relics and previously unmentioned historical figures so buckle up!

CURRENTLY IN USE (MULTIPLE WIELDERS): (note, an acolyte is a relic user who has been delegated power from the primary relic user and has essentially a copied piece of the relic)

Allspark: a source of life fragmented into many pieces. made by no one, with many previous users. bonded to the hero Hellscream. corrupted victims include Waspinator and Goldbug

Cyber Caliber: the sword of swords. made by Solus, Vector, and Nexus Primes, out of the Chaos Edge, the Energon Saber, the Omni Saber, Rhisling, and the Vorpal Saber. currently hidden within the Enigma of Combination

Enigma of Combination: a question of personhood and singularity given form, the Infinite Combinatoric. made from Nexus Prime, with few previous users. bonded to the heroes Elita 1 and acolytes Elitas 2, 3, 4, and 5. corrupted victims include Overlord, the Beast, Bruticus, Superion, Menasor, Megatronia, Devastator, Defensor, and Safeguard

Lenses: clarity and perception, a distillery of reality. made from Alchemist Prime, previously in the care of Maccadam. bonded to the hero Soundwave and acolytes Jaguar, Cobalt, Slazer, Buzzclaw, and Squawkbox. corrupted victims include Shockblast, Toxitron, and Tarn

Matrix of Leadership: the first and best Matrix. made from Prima, with multiple previous Prime users. bonded to the heroes Optimus Prime and acolyte Rodimus Prime. corrupted victims include Sentinel Zeta Prime, Thunderwing, and Shokaract

CURRENTLY IN USE (SINGLE WIELDERS):

Amalgamate Scythe: an anything blade. made from Amalgamous Prime, with many previous users. bonded to the hero Sixshot

Apex Armor: unstoppable force and immovable object. made by Solus Prime for Apex Ginrai, derived from Solduron, with few previous users. bonded to the hero Abominus

Blades of Time: a stitch in spacetime. made from Vector Prime with Mortilus’s help, with one previous user. bonded to the hero Cyclonus

Chimera Stone: enough energy to be anything. made from Micronus Prime, with multiple previous users. bonded to the hero Thunderblast

Creation Lathe: blueprints and creativity. originally part of the Forge, split by Solus Prime to gift to Pyra, with many previous users. bonded to the hero the Mistress of Flame

Emberstone: a wellspring of energy. made from Quintus Prime with Epistemus’s help, with few previous users. bonded to the hero Cheetor

Forge: to make anew. made from Solus Prime, with multiple previous users. bonded to the hero Scourge

Liegian Darts: tactical insults and stinging barbs. made from Liege Maximo, with few previous users. bonded to the hero Airachnid, with a secret inside

Magnus Hammer: all the authority of the heavens brought to bear. made for Magnum with Solomus’s help, with multiple previous Magnus users. bonded to the hero Ultra Magnus

Onyx Triptych: masks of Mournsong, Predator, and Farsight. made from Onyx Prime, with few previous users. bonded to the hero Triptych

Requiem Blaster: the ultimate eraser. made by Solus Prime from Megatronus Prime, with few previous users. bonded to the hero Galvatron

Star Saber: the sharpened edge of sunlight. made by Solus Prime from Prima, with many previous users. bonded to the hero Drift

Terminus Blade: entropy and fire with a bite. made from Megatronus Prime, with multiple previous users before being stolen by a great evil. permanently corrupted to produce Trypticon

ACTIVE AND AT LARGE:

Covenant: reality writ large. made by Alpha Prime. currently in safe hands

Cerebro Shell: a crown of cooperation, or of control. made by Solomus. briefly bonded to Meister/Soundblaster. corrupted victims include Bombshell, Minitron, Sunder, Mindwipe, and Trepan

Quill: an ink-wet lance into the pages of the universe. made from Alpha Prime. currently in safe hands

DORMANT:

Arsenal Force: all the potential methods of murder in one place. made by Adaptus. currently in safe hands

Creation Matrix: the solution to all problems. made by Primus. current location unknown

Pathblaster: where there’s a will, there’s a way. made by Epistemus. stolen by a great evil

Phase Shifter: a door in realspace. made by Mortilus from an instance of Physis. stolen by a great evil

Polarity Gauntlets: a helping hand of fundamental force. made by Solus Prime. currently in safe hands

Primax Blade: a very loyal sword. made by Prima for Delta Prime. current location unknown

Skyboom Shield: protection in a match set. made by Magnum for Pyra. currently in safe hands

Stormfall Sword: violence in a match set. made by Magnum for Pyra. currently in safe hands

Sword of Balance: twinned bodies, twinned blades. made for Sentius Nobilius. stolen by a great evil

Zeonomicon: a key, a diary, a puzzle. made by Solus and Vector Primes from Logos Prime. currently in safe hands

ACTIVE MINOR RELICS:

Chaos Edge: an impossibility sharpened to a point. made by Nexus Prime, put into the Cyber Caliber. bonded to the hero Elita 4

Energon Saber: deadly lifeblood. made by Necro, put into the Cyber Caliber. bonded to the hero Elita 2

Omni Saber: a blade of expanses. made by Nexus Prime, put into the Cyber Caliber. bonded to the hero Elita 5

Rhisling: a sharp singularity. made by Solus Prime from Logos Prime for Vector Prime. bonded to the hero Elita 1

Vorpal Saber: twisty turny stabby. made by Amalgamous Prime, put into the Cyber Caliber. bonded to the hero Elita 3

DORMANT MINOR RELICS:

Corona Glaive: heavy metal punishment. made by Ultra Mammoth. currently in safe hands

Cosmotector: the lifesaver’s tool. made by Flashpoint. current location unknown

Gaia Armor: a survivor’s gambit. made by Lio Prime. stolen by a great evil

Galaxy Launcher: bursting the sky open. made by Tamayatron. stolen by a great evil

Hydrafire Blaster: a double heaping of trouble. made by Heatwave for Snapdragon. stolen by a great evil

Immobilizer: caught in the moment. made for Infinitus. current location unknown

Infernum Blade: ancient fire and brimstone. made by Magmatron. stolen by a great evil

Legendiscs: a collection of powers. made by Dragotron. currently in safe hands

Matrix Blade: the traditional weapon of the Keeper. made by Lord High Protector Autonomous Maximus. current location unknown

Nemesis Shield: made to survive the end of days. made by Imperius Argus. current location unknown

Planet Bowgun: a world-breaker. made for Torox. stolen by a great evil

Rainbow Shield: a coat of many colors. made by Prima for Primon. stolen by a great evil

Resonance Blaster: the frequency of concussive force. made from Soundblaster with Logos Prime’s help. currently in safe hands

Talisman: a diviner, a databank, a patch. made for Dragonstorm. current location unknown

Transwarp Blaster: a quick getaway. made by Vector Prime for Scorpia. currently in safe hands

OTHER:

Heart of Cyberton: an Allspark regrown, the clotted hearts of Vector Sigma

Origin Matrix: not a relic at all. the arteries of Vector Sigma

Star Power: the warmth of the Warriors of the Seven Lights, hosted in Matrix vessels

#this is gonna be snap oc fodder i can feel it go ham #worldbuilding #cybertronian history #13 primes #guiding hand #knights of cybertron #corrupted relic #theres prolly more i just dont want to look thru canon to nab them #this took wayyyy too long lol

36 notes · View notes

theseventhoffrostfall · 2 years ago

Note

I picked up this (AN SBG forum Vorpal, they were like 700 originally, then 400 when they did a liquidation sale) and a Hanwei Tinker Longsword blade someone added a grip and hilt to for about 165 each yesterday, both unused. The above has already had a modified grip (and to be fair the original leather sucks ass and looks tacky, the black suede is a lateral move at best) but I think I'm gonna do a fishtail plait wire wrap on the upper grip and a dark blue shagreen wrap on the lower grip for better texture but also retaining the original blue/gold which is my favorite color combo and go-to for my own "household colors/crest."

Normally not something I'd be into but at the price point it was a damn good deal for some cutters. Kind of has a very Warhammer Fantasy High Elf vibe going on with it, what do you think of fantasy-but-slightly-realistic looking swords? Or do you prefer either full fantasy despite practicality or fully reality based swords?

I think practicality needs to be a concern, particularly when it comes to size and protrusions, because swinging around ridiculously ostentatious swords doesn't look epic, it just looks silly, but I'm completely okay with plausible deviations from historical designs. Like I've seen people criticise fantasy swords because of like minor bits of hilt construction on the grounds that it's not "historically accurate" despite clearly being functional and and ergonomic, and that sort of stuff is deep into the realm of obnoxious pedantry for the sake of trying to look smart.

Slightly less popular opinion, but I'm much more okay with bending the rules for magic weapons, as well. Like if an artifact sword's blade is a loosely-plaited latticework of metal with gaps along the spine, I'm okay with that. If anything it kind of enhances that it's not playing by the same rules as a mundane weapon. The key point for me is the classic flaming sword, because wannabe smart guys will be like "b-but being on fire would ruin the temper!" Like no shit asshole, it's magic fire on magic metal. A 400-foot wizard tower built with medieval technology would collapse; the message is that the wizard isn't playing by natural laws. Same with flaming swords

2 notes · View notes

violetren · 4 years ago

Text

My first theory for volume 9 while the second half of volume 8 is fresh in my mind!

Volume 9 is gonna be the therapy season, but in the most traumatic you'll need different therapy afterwards kind of way. Instead of paying a therapist they're all just be bargaining with the universe like "yo I've had this trauma for a while, and I'm feeling pretty done with it. Here you take it back and uhhh I'll take a new guilt complex. Maybe a fear of falling? IDK, fuck me up bro."

The foreshadow-y Alice in Wonderland-esque fairy tale Oscar told to himself/Oz while in captivity is my guide post here.

Aaaand this is gonna get long so! 10 ideas of shit that's gonna go down next volume beneath the readmore, each one about 1-2 paragraphs each.

In the fairy tale the girl runs away from her problems into a new land, but because she never learned from her problems they just followed after her. Yeah? So first--second? First discounting the volume therapy theme theory.

FIRST BIG THEORY: The girl from the fairy tale was real, and she used the Spear of Creation. And like Weiss and the crew, she was fucking smart about her wording. She offered up materials that'd last even after someone else inevitably used the staff. IDK what materials she woulda used. Maybe there's a story about a missing continent we just haven't heard of yet? Maybe the Brother of Light's pool, since Salem seens to have claimed the Brother of Darkness's one but no sign of BoL's these days. Maybe there is a reason the land beyond Menagerie is so uninhabitable beyond desert + grimm? idk. Point is, it's a thing that happened, and since Ambrosius can't destroy/directly kill she's still in her wonderland. For themes sake I'm gonna call her Alice from here on out.

So Alice made a pocket dimension to flee from her problems from.

SECOND BIG THEORY: Her problems were relic related. She needed to hide em, and hide herself from Salem. Tbh I'm not sure how into this one I am. Maybe she had other shit going and some version of Oz was like "hey you don't want to be here, I have some property that I don't want to be here, lets make this happen!" THE POINT IS, the little pocket realities the relics are in, are aalllllll places in her pocket reality. When the team said "hey Ambrosius just make the middle ground into one of these type places" that's what he did, cause that's how he do. What better way to make sure it works like those places than to be kinda connected to em?

THIRD BIG THEORY: Ambrosius was buds with Alice once upon a time, but knew staying in her pocket world ultimately drove her crazy. He knew his middle ground worked like the pocket dimensions because it touched em or something, so he gave a vague ass warning not to fall, because he knew where they'd fall to.

Back to the fairy tale. It's implied Alice was never able to leave/give up her wonderland because she never learned from her mistakes.

FOURTH BIG THEORY VERSION 1: RWBY + Jaune can't figure their way back to reality until they adress a major personal issue and break out of whatever cycle it's got them in. This one I feel is shaky because they all have such different issues and are in very different places with each of them, trying to do one big arc on em would be too much of a mess. Plus it doesn't account for saving any of the many civilians that may have survived the fall.

FOURTH BIG THEORY VERSION 2: nobody can leave until Alice either leaves, dies, OR is convinced to let them go. As we're following good kind people this means we watch the kids try to give someone else therapy that THEY need. RWBY+J work through their shit through variations & combinations of witnessing mirrors of their struggles in Alice/other wonderland inhabitants, and just having time and space to slow down and breathe whether they want it or not.

FIFTH BIG THEORY: Alice is the "antagonist" of the underworld because she is the obstacle to overcome.

What about Neo you may be asking. Well I want her to let go of the revenge schtick, or at least redirect it back onto Cinder thus calling a truce with Ruby. However it's more than likely she's gonna be on team keep Alice as an obstacle at least as long as it takes to kill Ruby, and so Neo will be the "real" Antagonist™ within wonderland.

SIXTH BIG THEORY: Neo because of her unwavering determination to enact revenge is gonna die this volume. She'll be the comparison against which RWBY+J will be measured. As they grow and get closer to leaving she'll become more wrapped up with whatever strange classic wonderland logic this pocket universe has. Potentially depending on how things go with helping Alice, Neo may just end up trading spots with her, and end up trapped while everyone else goes back. But dead or trapped, I have a sad feeling this could be our last volume with Neo. My only hope of her surviving at this point is that she like Emerald switches sides, and in doing so joins Winter as a Cinder foil. While Neo grows and lets go of revenge and thus survives, Cinder stays dedicated to her own desires for revenge and other self serving instincts ringing her own death toll for either the end of the volume, or maybe somewhere in vol.10.

SEVENTH BIG THEORY: Ruby is gonna be grieving and maybe even getting full on angry about being expected to fix everything just because she's the optimistic one. She shouldn't have to deal with this brand and advanced level of childhood stealing just because she wanted to do what was right and won(lost) a genetic lottery for magic powers type anger. Jaune is going to have SO MUCH GUILT to work through, mostly the survivors kind. The bees will be experiencing couples therapy, they've both been pretty solid about individual growth leading up to this, Underworld will be them learning what it means to them to be partners now that they are so different to who they were. Weiss is different. Weiss is at first gonna feel like she's there just because it was a way to really shove all the other Schnee's into their therapy arcs and gave RBY+J neutral presence to rely on. Weiss is gonna go in the most stable of the bunch. But then, slow boil style, she'll start to realise how fucked up basically her whole life has been, especially upon realising that her "good years" with her new family have been spent getting sucked into being the last line of defense against the apocalypse, but will be too busy helping the others, so at the end of the volume when everyone else is actually doing pretty good and refreshed for the fight against Salem she'll only just be beginning her breakdown.

EIGHTH BIG THEORY: All this therapy shit is gonna be mirrored back on Remnant by the others grieving the percieved loss of the hearts of the team. Both sides of these story are gonna deal with some heavy shit, but the Remnant side is gonna be the depressed side, at least as long as it takes for Oz to tell them maybe the other's aren't dead leading to desperate attempts to get the staff OR the make desperate attempts to get the relics back anyways and inadvertently find out from Ambrosius what is up. But anyways. Winter is gonna be dealing with survivors guilt and the loss of both her little sisters (friends are great but Penny was little sister zoned and it's a hill I am prepared to die on. good sisterly relationships are friendships too). Nora is gonna be doing her self discovery thing. Ren is gonna be building on his end of vol.8 developments. Oscar will continue his grappling with the merge stuff. Qrow and Willow might get forced into AA. Whitely is gonna learn his own definition of being a Schnee instead of what his dad taught him.

NINTH BIG THEORY (OR FOURTH VERSION 3): The other way they get out is QORN obtain and use the staff to bring them home, potentially by trading enemy lives for them.

BONUS CONSPIRACY THEORY: QORN if presented with needing to trade for their loved ones & lost civilians have a lightbulb moment and decide hey why not trap Salem in a pocket universe since that is a thing Ambrosius can make? Like, if this bitch hasn't budged on her not learning to appreaciate life and humanity or whatever (which I'n pretty sure is the other way to break her curse instead of stopping remnant from turning) then she's a prime candidate for shoving into a personal reality that you can only escape if you can face your problems long enough to break the cycle they have you in. It'd be really fucked up but I think it might actually be possible to run the place using her as her own material component. Like kill her over and over and redistribute the energy to make the pocket world, but because god given power + Ambrosius can't actually destroy she just reforms anyways. MIght take a few hundred thousand deaths but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Or use the BoD oasis/grimm pools to make a world that mirrored the one she chose to live in on Remnant really make it hard for her to break that cycle....

Anyways.

TENTH BIG THEORY: Working on the idea that the relics are actually hidden in secret protected pockets of the underworld RWBY+J are gonna have a secondary quest of trying to get the relics from this side, and either finding a new place to hide them ages away from their vault doors. If you wanna make it a FOURTH VERSION 4, they're specifically gonna seek out the sword of destruction (HOLY VORPAL BLADE ALLUSIONS BATMAN) either with the intent of cutting their way out underworld--ahem wonderland--or with the assumption that someone is inevitably gonna have to open the vault door, because that's just how things be these days and they'll be able to cross to Vacuo from there.

52 notes · View notes

victorluvsalice · 8 months ago

Text

AU Thursday: Smiler's Otherland -- Weapons!

We've done the domains -- time to cover Smiler's marmalising arsenal! Well, if you can call it that, given these weapons are all nonlethal unless Smiler's in their version of Hysteria Mode... These admittedly got covered pretty well in the original post, but I wanted to expand a little bit upon what each one does (both in normal and Hysteria modes) and what their upgrade paths might look like --

Vorpal Spoon: As previously indicated, this came about because I needed an equivalent to Alice's famous Vorpal Blade, and since Victor got the Vorpal Fork thanks to his big fight scene in Corpse Bride involving him using a barbecue fork...well, I guess Smiler wanted to complete the cutlery set. XD

Look -- An oversized silver spoon with a black handle grip (with little yellow spirals painted on it, natch) and a twisted slatted "neck" (the part that actually connects the handle and the bowl) -- it's supposed to look like a heartline roll, which is the first inversion on the Smiler coaster. The bowl itself is a bit oversized, and would probably be engraved either with spirals, or the full-on swirly-eyed Smiler logo.

Effect -- Not having any sharp bits like the Blade or Fork, the Spoon is instead a stunning weapon -- Smiler bops enemies on the head with it, and they freeze for a few seconds, unable to move, while swirls go around their heads. Perfect for giving Victor or Alice the chance to get in close with a more lethal weapon! The Hysteria Mode version would still stun the enemy, but also cause damage as Smiler hits harder.

Upgrade Path -- Like the Vorpal Blade and the Vorpal Fork, the look of this weapon doesn't change as you upgrade it -- instead, the trail it leaves as Smiler swings it and the spirals that appear around bopped enemies changes. I'm thinking we start with simple black spirals, then move to purple, yellow, and finally a whole rainbow of spirals.

The Inoculator: One of the elements of the Marmaliser, and probably one of the most famous, since -- well. Big needle full of mind-control juice! That grabs people's interest! This is the equivalent of Alice's Pepper Grinder or Victor's Wedding Wine, functioning much like the latter.

Look -- A big old syringe (about the size of the Pepper Grinder) with a copper needle and plunger and a glass barrel full of yellow liquid (Joy Serum). The serum drains as Smiler presses the plunger, and will need a few seconds to refill -- longer if Smiler empties it completely.

Effect -- Smiler can depress the plunger to squirt out the serum onto enemies -- any enemy hit by the stuff ends up covered in dripping yellow liquid for a short time, and during that time, is friendly to Smiler (and Victor and Alice, if they are present). The enemy will also attack other enemies if they are present. The Hysteria Mode version is a full on "needle jab" attack, where Smiler gets in close and actually injects an enemy with Joy Serum -- this causes the enemy to take some damage from getting stuck, but also turns them completely yellow and makes them fight at Smiler's side for longer.

Upgrade Path -- The needle and plunger go from copper, to silver, to gold, to black; the barrel gradually gains some minor decoration in the form of swirly engravings, and the Joy Serum inside gets more and more excited, going from just plain liquid, to bubbling a bit, to actively fizzing, to occasionally having the Smiler logo fade in and out of it.

The Tickler: Another Marmaliser element, big fuzzy rollers designed to tickle people -- though I wouldn't be surprised if most people looked at them and thought "car wash." :p This is the equivalent of Alice's Hobby Horse or Victor's Grim Scythe.

Look -- The ride Tickler is made up of big car wash brushes; mine is a paint roller. XD Specifically, it's a long black pole with a large fuzzy yellow roller mounted on the end. Just -- picture a paint roller, yeah.

Effect -- This is another weapon designed to stun -- Smiler hits enemies with it and rolls the roller over them, and they get incapacitated for a short time with laughter, as shown by little yellow "ha ha ha"s coming out of their bodies. It's got better reach and stuns for longer than the Vorpal Spoon, but Smiler can't swing it as fast, or move as fast while they're using it. Like the Vorpal Spoon, the Hysteria Mode version of the attack has Smiler hit harder and more aggressively, actually causing damage while also stunning the enemy for a bit longer.

Upgrade Path -- The pole goes from plain black, to black-and-white-striped, to black-and-yellow-striped, to black-white-and-yellow-striped. The roller, meanwhile, goes from plain yellow, to yellow-and-black-striped (like it's presented in The Smiler Game), to black-white-and-yellow-striped, to black-white-yellow-and-purple-striped.

The Flasher: Another Marmaliser element, and the one that most people I think would be fine skipping, as it does involve being flashed with bright light. This is what makes The Smiler fandom not great for anyone who doesn't like or can't view flashing images! This functions much like Alice's Clockwork Bomb or Victor's Altar Candle.

Look -- A medium-sized yellow box covered on all four sides and the top with light bulbs -- a set of six to a side. The bulbs blink on and off occasionally.

Effect -- Smiler puts this down on the ground, holding a small black switch in their hand as they then move about freely. The Flasher will remain where it is placed, with bulbs blinking on and off randomly to attract enemies. After thirty seconds, or when Smiler presses the switch, the box will let off a brilliant flash using all its bulbs at once, then explode, stunning all nearby enemies briefly. It can also be used to hold down switches temporarily. In Hysteria Mode, the explosion is accompanied by flying glass from the bulbs and thus actually causes damage. (I know the Clockbomb Bomb doesn't really have a "Hysteria Mode" equivalent like the main weapons, but I still like this idea.)

Upgrade Path -- N/A -- as the Clockwork Bomb has no upgrades, neither does this. (Given it can literally blind enemies from the start, does it really need them?)

The Giggler: Another Marmaliser element, this one being tanks full of laughing gas sprayed at riders as they pass. This one doesn't get a lot of love -- I think most people are more into the Inoculator's Joy Serum -- but I like it as it's fun and, from what I can see, the gas itself is the ride's explicit purple element. :) It's the equivalent of Alice's Teapot Cannon or Victor's Quill Bow.

Look -- A small tank about the size of the Teapot Cannon, with a black top and bottom over a clear glass middle, showing the purple Giggler gas. A black handle with a trigger is attached to one side, and a black nozzle on a short flexible black hose is attached to the other. Smiler holds it by gripping the handle in one hand and holding the nozzle with the other.

Effect -- Smiler can depress the trigger in the handle to release clouds of gas from the nozzle, which then drift toward nearby enemies -- the longer they hold the trigger, the bigger the resultant cloud, and the faster it moves. Any enemies hit by the cloud end up tinted purple with a purple "ha ha ha" over their heads, and, like with the Inoculator, end up friendly to Smiler and will attack other enemies for them. The clouds have better reach than the Inoculator and can go through barriers, but the tank empties faster than the syringe and takes longer to refill -- it's best used with large groups of enemies, as the clouds can affect multiple enemies at once. The Hysteria Mode version would have Smiler getting up closer to give enemies a bigger dose of gas straight in the kisser, causing damage from lack of oxygen but also making the enemies brighter purple and keeping them loyal for longer.

Upgrade Path -- The top, bottom, and handle of the tank go from black, to white, to yellow, to yellow-and-black-striped; the actual tank gets engraved swirly decorations, then an engraved Smiler Logo with a hazardous X on the bottom, like can be seen in the front in this Tower Times picture; and the nozzle and hose go from plain black, to black-and-white-striped, to black-and-yellow-striped, to black-white-and-yellow-striped.

The Hypnotiser: The final element on the Marmaliser, and probably the other most famous/liked one of the lot, basically just a lot of spinning spirals and other patterns designed to, well, hypnotize. This would be the equivalent of Alice's Umbrella or Victor's Sketchbook.

Look -- A large disc on a black pole, printed with concentric white, yellow, and black spirals (much like the eyes in the logo), which spins at a steady rate.

Effect -- Smiler can pull this out and use the disc to reflect back projectiles or as a defensive shield. It also has a chance of distracting enemies so they don't attack, leaving them open to another weapon. The Hysteria Mode attack would be -- hmmm. Maybe if Smiler pulls it out, it can frenzy enemies into attacking whoever or whatever is closest? (Again, I know the Umbrella doesn't have an Hysteria Mode attack, but come on, it's fun.)

Upgrade Path -- N/A again, as the Umbrella never gets upgraded. (Though if it did have one, I'd imagine the spirals would get more complex -- maybe it would start with just black and white spirals and gradually add the yellow?)

Whew -- I think that covers all their current weapons pretty thoroughly! Once again I count myself lucky that the ride's various "Marmaliser" elements could be so easily converted to weapons. :p Next time in Smiler Otherland news, we'll talk outfits! At least, those outfits I've managed to figure out...

#valicer #wonderland #otherland #otherlands #smiler alton #the smiler #smiler otherland #arsenal of imagination #thank you Alton Towers for designing The Smiler with The Inoculator The Tickler The Flasher The Giggler and The Hypnotiser #made my job here a LOT easier XD #and of course I couldn't resist the silly factor of a Vorpal spoon #though it occurs to me twisted cutlery would actually be good Smiler merch #they already did coffee mugs sooo #but yeah I'm pretty happy with this set #it was sometimes a bit tough to figure out how the weapons would change for upgrade paths #but I think it all came together in the end #and it's kind of fun having a character whose schtick is stunning and converting enemies #unless they've been forced into Hysteria mode #then all bets are off #but yeah a nice change from Victor and Alice's strictly-lethal stuff #queued

2 notes · View notes

cyberneticlagomorph · 4 years ago

Text

Is there anything more daunting and dangerous than the blank white expanse of a page?

It glitters and glows like the spit-slick teeth of a predator, hungry for words that you cannot give it. No matter how much you want to.

Its gaze alone freezes all trains of thought, even in the minds of Writers and authors and artists alike, even those more powerful than I.

And as I sit here, trembling, at the mercy of Writer's Block and my own anxieties… I can think of nothing that I want more than to run, to leave this page blank, and my readers guessing.

The End is Nigh, dear readers, and I am afraid.

So very afraid.

"I'm afraid too," says the rabbit we all know and love, his legs swallowed by moss and weeds and misshapen dreams. He stands right where we left him, sword in hand, broken sky above, the End of Everything staring him down.

All seven of Her glowing green eyes blaze with something worse than hate, and I wish for all the world that this was a much different story. A happy story, with a happy Ending.

But I've never written a happy Ending in my life.

There is silence now, neither Protagonist or Antagonist moves or breathes or blinks.

They know that this is how it Ends.

One of them will die today.

So it is Written.

So it will be.

"Shut. Up." The End snarls, lips curling back over venomous fangs that drip oily green liquid onto the cracked asphalt below. Flowers bloom from the puddle, and spread like a rainbow rash down the street. "This. This is all YOUR fault!"

I know.

I'm sorry.

"LIAR!!" Her scream echoes across the fourth wall and cracks my computer screen.

This…

This is where I leave you, dear readers.

I'm sorry.

Fangs sink deep into the papery flesh of the Narrative, tearing it apart as it is poisoned. Thorns grow from its wounds and strangle it like trembling hands.

Writer be damned.

Plot be damned.

I am the End of EVERYTHING, I will End this miserable excuse for story on my own terms.

Or die trying.

You have not won, sweet stupid rabbit, no one can save you now, no one will stop me now. The world is a page upon which fate is Written and I will burn it all to the ground. May its ashes be lost and forgotten.

Your dark eyes narrow at me, bone blade glittering as you charge. But I am in control now, and I don't play fair.

Deep beneath the earth, humans sit snug and safe in their bunkers, thinking themselves free of the horrors outside. From the canteens comes a deep and terrible shattering like teeth against an eggshell, and a figure crawls lazily from the steam wafting from any number of bubbling pots set on stoves across the world over.

She smells of cooking meat and blood drenched in exotic spices and honey. Stick thin, and dressed in a chef's uniform. Her sleeves and hands are stained with the blood of the starving.

She has no face.

Only bright white teeth.

She manifests in the homes of the rich, stuffing them fat with delicacies that humans have no names for. Each minuscule morsel is completely tasteless covered in edible gold. Like the kind of fare you'd find at high end restaurants, going for hundreds of dollars a plate, even though each serving is barely a mouthful.

She appears in slums with bread made from ash and bone, rat stew, and tainted water.

Pots boil in city centers, a roiling soup made from human offal that nothing in this world or the next could ever hope to surpass.

The poor eat their rations, their bread, their stew and grow sicker and hungry. Skeletal and drooling like rabid animals, they stuff their faces with food that offers no nourishment until there is no choice but to turn on each other.

Screens grow undulating limbs and crawl from the wreckage of humanity, their screens blinking wetly like the eyes of a crying child. On each one is a broadcast, a man with red eyes smiles a reassuring smile and says,"Hungry? Eat the rich."

And they do.

A hoard of near zombies growl and gurgle as loud as their empty bellies, they hunt down the wealthy, and they FEAST.

Pestilence rises from the pus and rot and ruin and watches as all the good Jack and his friends had done is undone in a flash.

Among the riots and feasting is a cop, his riot gear reflecting the terrified and feral faces around him as he marches slowly onward. There is nothing behind his helmet.

Only malice.

Only power.

Only slaughter.

Only Death.

I don't have to tell you what comes next, what Death does when he gets his hands on a victim. The sounds of bullets ringing out into the night can tell you, the smell of tear gas in a crowd can tell you, the cries of innocents choking out their last breaths in steel cuffs, wrists rubbed raw and bleeding can tell you.

Death is not merciful.

He is not kind or quick or clean.

He is inevitable.

You know it.

And he knows it.

This world will collapse under the weight of its own sins and I will be here to watch it dissolve like candy floss in water.

Tears stream hot and blue down your face, and your grip on the Vorpal sword trembles. They are not worth your tears.

They stole you, beat you, broke you.

Turned you into a monster and then threw you away like you were NOTHING.

You should hate them as much as I do.

You should be glad for their suffering.

They deserve to die.

Like HE deserves to die. I turn my gaze skyward and watch the world split as the armies of Heaven pour down like a wrathful rain.

The Divinity burns your skin, doesn't it Jack? And yet the smell of Angels makes your mouth water.

You are no better than I am, I think. A man made monster set loose upon the multiverse, expected to play nice and fit in the niches carved for us. But we don't, no matter how hard we try, how good we think we are, we are torn apart again and again and again until we are unrecognizable from our beginnings.

I think I could have loved you.

In another story.

In another lifetime.

We would have been good friends at least.

But it's too late for that now, and as the first wave of Angels assault me with Heavenly fire, I part my jaws and give them some fire of my own. Green, as bright and beautiful as the first leaves of spring, it turns their armor into bark and their marble skin into flower petals. They fall to the ground like confetti, and I claw my way up to Heaven.

The Gates bend and break beneath my weight like wire, nothing and no one can stop me as I wrap HIM in my coils, slowly constricting. My venom burns holes in HIM that grow fruit trees, and each fruit contains the knowledge of the multiverse. I want HIM to die slowly, to watch as HIS playthings suffer and burn because of HIM. The humans cry out, and they pray, begging, pleading for HIM to save them. But HE can't, HE won't.

What GOD would make a world so empty and hopeless as this? What GOD would let HIS followers murder and hate and destroy entire cultures in HIS name?

HE never wanted this, never wanted it to come to this, HIS teachings have been mistranslated and manipulated for millennia and now there is nothing left but hatred and sin.

My jaws part above HIS head, ropes of green spittle tarnishing HIS crown. HE does not fight me, how pathetic of HIM.

White hot pain explodes through my tail.

There you are, sweet hero, stupid rabbit.

Go home Jack, this doesn't concern you.

"But it does," you twist the blade, dislodging my scales and rending my flesh. My blood slithers up your sword, trying desperately to burrow inside of you and turn you Green. "You said that you think you could have loved me… well love me now, it doesn't have to be this way… I could… I could take care of you and help you heal, we could do it together."

You offer your hand, bloody and trembling.

The sound I make is inhuman and hard to describe in words, it is disbelief and venom and vengeance all at once. I stretch myself down to meet you, my eyes are the size of houses, and they reflect your trembling visage like great green mirrors.

"You're right, I should hate them, hate everyone… but I don't." a swallow, you taste copper and butterscotch, "I used to but I-I found people who cared, I found people who I love and who love me back and they make my life worth living… they gave me a reason to get better and stop hurting people… let me be your reason."

You reach out and touch my face, my scales are warm like the sidewalk in summer.

I crush GOD in my coils and HIS blood rushes over you like a wave.

There is nothing that can fix this, fix me.

No love will quiet the hatred in my heart.

I do not deserve kindness or redemption.

Love might have tempered your monstrous hearts, but it won't do the same for me.

Only one of us will make it out of this story alive.

"So it is Written." You say, solemnly.

So it will be.

My coils curl around you, quick as lightning. Your symbiote is the only thing keeping you from being crushed like a soda can, I hope you know that.

I don't waste time, and fling you down…

Down…

Towards earth.

Countless Angels have been discarded this way, wings torn from their backs, left to the mercy of gravity. It never gets any easier.

I tear a hole into space and crawl through it, into Fairyland, the place of my birth.

I devour the Sun-In-Chains, my replacement, and plunge the planet into darkness. I skin my teeth into the planet's crust and empty my venom glands into its core. Fairyland becomes my twisted Eden, choked with blinding bioluminescence, thorns, and poisonous things that not even I have a name for.

It's beautiful and terrible all at once.

Like me.

Like you too, I suppose.

You plunge your blade into my seventh eye and send me reeling, screaming, flailing. My frantically flapping wings crash into a nearby planet and reduce it to dust.

I pluck the sword from my eye and snap it into pieces.

You're becoming a real thorn in my side.

Seven perfect fingers snatch you out of the sky like the annoying insect you are and start to CRUSH YOU.

I will tear you apart with my TEETH if I have to.

You've had every chance to run and hide, or join in my crusade and you denied them all. I have no use for you.

Not even as a snack.

Or a toothpick.

"Then kill me." You growl through clenched teeth, blood already flecking your lips and leaking from your nose.

I throw you into a patch of thorns. Each and every one is serrated and ranges in size from a human finger to a school bus, you are impaled, skewered, crucified even.

Neon blue blood running down to the soil beneath, feeding my Eden.

And yet, you refuse to die.

Slowly but surely, you drag your broken body up and off the thorn, shakily levitating up to meet me.

You stare at me with dead eyes, blood pouring from the opening in your chest. Your lips part and black flames flicker behind your teeth, smoke curling from your nostrils as the color drains from your eyes in inky tears, until there is nothing but black.

Just like the hole in your chest.

You seem to crack like porcelain, to split in two like something precious dropped from a great height. What crawls from the darkness inside of you is something no human throat can utter, no human tongue can twist or shape itself the right way to name.

It's said that Demons possess.

But Angels abandon.

But what can be said of creatures that man has no name for?

The thing inside of you stares at me with eyes darker than the emptiness between stars, its maw is the belly of a black hole with teeth long enough to split a planet like an apple.

It is the bleak black emptiness that existed before the universe, and will exist again when there is nothing but dust and dead silence.

This… this is my Warden, my Prison, the creature tasked with my capture those eons ago. You are barely a speck in it's vast form, a limp and lifeless nucleus.

It roars, a sound that radiates across time and echoes across the multiverse.

"FROM NOTHINGNESS YOU CRAWLED, TO NOTHINGNESS YOU WILL RETURN." the beast howls in a voice that echoes from every dark and terrible place in the multiverse and shakes me to my core.

I will not go without a fight.

It lunges, claws outstretched, the endless expanse of its hideous maw seems to suck all the light out of the stars, out of me. I sink my teeth into its throat and pull, my body curling around and around it.

Its claws are impossibly sharp, tearing my flesh down to the bone. My blood falls to fairyland like rain. My face is grabbed and smashed into the planet's surface again and again. I crush the Warden close and set myself on fire, I am the LIGHTBRINGER, it will take more than some overconfident shadow to defeat me.

The Warden burns, it smolders and screams like steam escaping. I fling it away into deep space and charge after it, driving my seven horns into its belly.

I miss you by a hair, I feel you reach out and grab me just as I pull back. Amber chains snake from your weeping wound, to the Warden behind you.

You have no control over this thing, do you?

No.

Didn't think so.

But still, you stubbornly grab your chains and pull. The Warden does not come to heel, so much as it melts, engulfing you in its emptiness like a suit. When you open your eyes, you nearly dwarf me.

Nearly.

Your fist collides with my face in an instant, sending teeth flying like meteors. I cannot tell your rage apart from the Warden and I'm not sure I really want to.

Run.

For a second, we are stars, two pinpricks of light twirling around each other in double helices, colliding and clashing with enough force to summon new stars from the ether. We are creation and chaos incarnate.

We crash through debris fields, shatter planets and extinguish stars. Our blood becomes the new crawling things left behind in the wreckage. I'm smiling, the pain is dizzying, delicious, delightful.

My venom turns you into a garden, and you tear me apart with your bare and bloody hands.

Through it all we refuse to die.

Maws wide and screaming in tongues the universe hasn't heard since it was new, I am thoroughly seduced.

But I am growing bored with this game.

I shove my hand through the Warden and tear you out. You scream in undeniable agony, I close my fist around you and squeeze.

The Warden hangs limp and dead in the darkness of deep space, slowly dissolving.

Something oozes between my fingers.

Not blood, far too sticky and cloying to be that.

If Hope had a color, what would it be?

Would it be a color that only shrimp can see, and only gods have a name for?

You pry my fingers apart, tears pouring from your eyes the same color as Hope. Hope flows from your mouth as flames, rushes from your open chest as ferns and flowers and vines more beautiful than I could ever create. You reach into the forest of your heart and pull out Kindness, sleek and soft and sharp.

It melts in your hands, becoming a hammer, comically oversized like your Ma's. And then it grows, and grows, and in the blink of an eye it's bigger and I am. The swing alone takes out half a dozen solar systems before it hits me and sends me crashing through different universes and out the fourth wall. I land heavily on the Writer, dazed and bloody, your hand reaches through his broken computer screen and drags me back home, and there we float over the ruined remains of earth, the skin of my chest balled in your hand like a shirt. You kiss your knuckles and punch me hard enough to send me careening back down to the earth's surface, my crater levels a nearby city.

Do you care?

Are we beyond morals and niceties and caring about humanity?

You teleport to my limp and broken body, you scoop me up into your arms and hold me close.

I've folded in on myself several times, I'm barely the size of a person now.

I can feel those amber chains slithering around me, they clasp around my throat tight enough to choke.

I don't want to go.

Don't make me go.

I don't want to go back to sleep.

Please.

I'm scared.

I'm so scared.

You don't let me go, as I break down and cling to you like a scared child you don't let me go.

I wrap you in my wings, I shove my head under your chin and apologize when I stab you with my horns.

"I am your Warden, you are my Prisoner… you are the End of Everything, but I am the End of You…" your throat is choked with snot and tears as you squeeze me so tight I can barely breathe. "You… you deserve to be a Happy Ending and I refuse to live in a world without one."

You kiss my forehead and wipe away my tears. "We do terrible things when we hurt… you deserve compassion instead of imprisonment."

I can do nothing but sit there and bawl, choking on Kindness as thick and sweet as soft caramel.

Seven times seven thousand lifetimes worth of hate and sorrow and trauma run from my eyes.

You sit with me until the crying stops, until my throat is raw and all I can do is whisper.

I speak a Word, one that fixes the shattered sky and let's the sun shine properly again.

The sun speaks their own Words and resets the world, turning the clock back to the day before my escape, I do humanity one kindness and let them wake the next morning as if the past week were nothing more than a bad dream.

I am made to fix my messes, to undo my misdeeds.

The Horsemen are sealed away again.

Fairyland is repaired to the best of my ability, although there is nothing that I can do for the Sun-In-Chains. What's done is done.

GOD will be fine, HE'S GOD, and therefore more or less impossible to kill permanently.

All evidence of my tirade is erased.

I am finally bound in amber, my powers diminished. I dread returning to the cold depths of the well, but you won't let that happen.

You refuse to send me back to that lonely place beyond dreams and take me home, to your home. Warm and safe beneath the soil, I curl up next to you by the fire.

And for the first time in your short and terrible life, you get a good night's sleep.

#ic #action post #the end is nigh #blood #death #religious imagery //#blasphemy //#cannibalism //#police brutality //#ask to tag #body horror #dismemberment //#impalement #submission

20 notes · View notes

iomhair · 4 years ago

Text

Count Bodies Like Sheep

It is almost quiet when Jacob walks through the night that surrounds London. The sound of firm steps over the cobblestone breaks the silence and holding the springs of his excitement all coiled up. He saw this city from above, he was an invisible witness to its secrets, he could run its roofs with the eyes closed, but now it was the time to face London from beneath. Jacob breathes in fully, watching the bright moon over the roofs, and touching his brass knuckles with the bare fingertips. The hood falls down and Jacob smirks into the darkness – tonight he is just Jacob Frye and he will claim this city once and for all.

He can already feel it – the growing sound of panic and disarray in the distance, the scent of fear and rage. But there was nothing that could stop him at this point. Strand was the last borough to claim, the Rooks were getting ready for this night and Jacob knew that he would not let them down.

The streets around him are slowly getting alive, and Jacob senses every single movement, sees every shadow, he even feels the vibration of the cobblestone. He stops for only a second and steps on the white armband with the bright red symbol on it, denting it into the dirt.

Jacob sees the light of torches as he keeps on walking forward, finally leaving the shadows behind, finally seeing his targets in the distance, finally ready to strike. The crowd of templars ahead is growing, it’s easy enough to notice them, but Jacob is not scared at the slightest. His smile is almost devilish, his hands are steady, and the beating of his heart matches the sound of his steps.

Ten.

- Isn’t that a Frye boy? Heard you’d be coming to play tonight. Should have brought your sister, I bet she is more fun. I heard that she-

The laughs in the distance are getting louder as Jacob walks forward, parting the live corridor of men and striking without any delay, not letting the templar finish the sentence and quickly cutting his throat.

Nine.

The lifeless body falls on the road in a complete silence. First blood is now flowing over the stone, colouring it crimson red and dissolving into the dirt.

- I don’t think you quite understand, lads. The price for talking out loud just got raised. And I doubt any of you could afford it.

The silence around him is almost deafening.

Eight.

The first hit is very much expected and Jacob dodges it, piercing the blade into the templar’s chest, quickly getting ready for the second strike, which follows almost immediately.

Jacob laughs as the next attempt to kill him fails miserably. The crowd of templars is getting bigger, but he moves through it graciously, striking with the absolute precision, seeing the blood dripping off his blade. The red trail follows Jacob further, deeper, it’s getting wider, it is covering his tracks and leaving absolutely no doubts in his intentions.

Seven.

His Rooks appear as if from nowhere, surrounding the Blighters. They run through empty streets and alleys, blocking all of the exits and sparing none of the templars, and the growing sound of his personal army is one of the best sounds that Jacob has ever heard in his life.

Six.

Jacob’s hands are soaked with someone else’s blood. Blood covers his jacket, drips off his face, getting mixed with sweat and soot. His head is spinning of this endless agitation, adrenaline kicks in and Jacob moves even faster, screaming with rage and some kind of euphoria, cutting through the crowd of templars on his way.

No one can match him. No one can stop him. And no one can survive his blade.

Five.

Jacob breathes in, looking around almost hazily through the eyelashes. Pile of bodies surround him, and he walks forward, stepping over the dead templars. The air is filled with the smell of gunpowder, smoke and explosives. Jacob already knows that London will never forget this night. It will stay on the streets of this city as another scar, cutting right through the middle of it and reminding the people of the newly crowned king of the streets. Oh, the stuff of legends.

Four.

The bright lights of Alhambra are getting closer and Jacob’s heart beats in the anticipation. Isn’t this why he is here? Isn’t this his final destination?

- You just wait…

The whispers slips off Jacob’s lips, and he licks them immediately, feeling the unmistakable taste of blood.

Three.

He finally walks to Alhambra, raising up his head and seeing the familiar silhouette in one of the windows. Roth…

Two.

Jacob wants to run. Everything inside him beats in the burning excitement and a painful longing. The drums of war are almost deafening and Jacob knows that he needs to finish it here and now.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.

One.

No one stops him when he enters the theatre and walks right to the open scene. The theatre is quiet, unlike the London streets, and almost none of the chaos that he has caused made its way into the gloomy halls of Alhambra. The darkness parts as Jacob walks forward, stepping through the heavy curtains and letting the chaos in with him.

And there he was.

Maxwell Roth was sitting on some sort of throne, surrounded by the flickering candlelight, holding the goblet in his hand. His thin fingers were running over the heavy metal cup, stroking the intricate ornament. He seemed to not even pay attention what was happening around, but Jacob realized that it was just an illusion – Roth saw everything what happened. He knew.

- And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?

The hoarse voice echoes in the empty hall, making Jacob stop just for a second. He knows these lines, he has heard them before. Jacob smirks, touching the gauntlet and unsheathing the hidden blade, still stained with templar’s blood.

- And not just one, - he shows off the blade, openly bragging, - You know, there are better weapons than the… vorpal sword if you ask me.

Jacob watches as Roth laughs out loud and raises his goblet before making a sip.

- Darling. I have never doubted your intelligence.

The power balance between them shifts before Jacob could even notice it. Each step brings him closer to Roth, and each step makes him lose the unspoken sense of control. The invisible strings are getting loose one by one - Jacob can feel them slipping through his fingers, dissolving into the shadows, burning in the dim light. It should make him panic – but it does not. He steps closer, now walking right to the scene, openly staring at Roth. Daring. Provoking.

- I have just killed the last ones of your gang. Shouldn’t you be worried at the very least?

At this point Jacob does not even recognize his own voice. He is almost shaking when he walks to the dark throne, eagerly stepping into the shadows that surrounded Roth and watching the man from below, breathing in deeply, desperately trying to calm himself down. Jacob knows that he exists on a sheer adrenaline now. He is a match that needs a single sparkle. A bullet that is ready to be shot. A last drop of blood that balances the scales of life and death.

- Not at the slightest, my dear. I always knew who you were. In fact… I welcomed you. I always will.

Roth stands up, stepping to the edge of the scene and suddenly Jacob feels the cold hand on his cheek: delicate fingers are stroking his face, while gently removing the dried blood and smearing the dirt over. Their eyes meet and Jacob’s heart stops beating for a second. The tension is getting unbearable at this point, and just like that Jacob realizes that all his remaining confidence dissipates with a single touch, giving way to something unknown, something that he was terrified to even think about.

And Jacob succumbs.

With the quiet sigh he leans into Roth’s hand, allowing the touch, ready to accept whatever happens next, diving into the abyss, just like he did earlier on the streets of London. Roth’s fingers are stroking his temple, his cheek, they run down to Jacob’s lips, opening them oh so slightly, and Jacob tries his best to hold the needy moan, as he feeling the familiar taste of iron that was now somehow getting mixed with the taste of wine. He can’t even look away, getting completely lost in the gaze of the cold green eyes, staring back at him.

Roth’s fingers are now stroking his hair, letting the messy strands slide over this palm. The grip of his fist is getting tighter, but Jacob does not care. In fact, he welcomes it.

- My dear boy. So much I want to show you…

It is almost a ritual, some sort of a dark and twisted baptism, but Jacob is barely able to process this realization. Instead he is pressing his lips right to the Roth’s palm, gently sliding them down to his wrist just so he could feel the other man’s pulse, desperately wishing it to match his own.

- Come with me. Tonight we celebrate.

And it does match.

OST:

Counting Bodies Like Sheep To The Rhythm Of The War Drums

The Untold

My huge thanks to @jocobof and our nightly discussions <3 Oi, listen, it did not end up like I planned, but I hope you’ll enjoy it nonetheless.

#rothfrye #maxwell roth #jacob frye #assassins creed syndicate #what am I doing with my life #yes this is dark!Jacob #nope I don't care #yes this poem is from 1871 #nope no fucks given #yes I love references #yes it looked better in my head #songfic I guess #darn that was a lot of whiskey #no seriously #who does one have to blow to have a decent RP partner

15 notes · View notes

microwaveabl · 4 years ago

Text

Alright fuckers,

I decided to post what I have right now of my story, starting at Comic Con. @septicake hasn’t responded all day, but I hope they like it. Flowey, sentient toilets, and gay Obi Wan are here!

The next morning, we were both excited. We were finally going to get our answers. Fairly early that morning, we set out. It took us a bit to find the convention center, which Robin remarked upon: “This sounds exactly like the sort of thing we should’ve prepared for earlier this week”. I hate it when he’s right.

When we got there, we were awestruck at the spectacle before us. Hundreds of people, dressed as wizards, elves, orcs, comic book superheroes, video game characters, and soooooooo much more were there. Cosplayers of every kind, colors everywhere, it was incredible! I can’t begin to describe the wonder I felt, or everything I wondered at.

“All the hype was worth it,” Robin whispered to me, and I slowly nodded.

“This is… wow,” I responded, my eyes large. The twos of us, Robin and I, walked into the center, and my jaw dropped. It was even better than the outside! So many people, packed into the place! I knew it was big, but now I was wondering how exactly I was supposed to entertain everybody while Robin looked through them.

“Okay, slight change to the plan. I’m going to go up on that stage and begin my act. I’ll invite some people up, do some cool stuff. I’ll use a spell to broadcast my voice, for I think it’d be difficult to get a connected microphone headpiece thing. You get up there-” I pointed up to some of the pathways near the ceiling, probably so that those large posters on the wall could be hung, or something “- and use this charm of seeing” -I produced a small magnifying glass from my pocket - obviously enchanted, not just a magnifying glass “-and scan the crowd. You know what to look for, and, I don’t know, figure out a way to contact them. Maybe you have a charm, or something, I’m not sure. Improvise, you’re good at that!”

“This is a terrible idea,” Robin told me, “and you’re going to get kicked out. Still, I can’t think of a better idea.”

I grinned. “Good, and besides, if I do well enough, they won’t want me to leave. Now go up, and get ready.”

I waited while he made his way through back ways and such, until he was up on the pathways (I should really figure out what they are called, but we don’t have them where I come from, and I don’t feel like learning it). He tossed something down at me, not sure how it got to me through the crowd, and I looked questioningly at him. He mimed putting it in my ear, and it did look like some kind of earpiece. I gently placed it in my ear, wincing slightly, for I didn’t think it was meant for my pointy elven ears.

“Hey,” a voice that sounded like Robin’s came into my ear. I jumped, and looked up at him. He was grinning, of course.

“Can we communicate through these?” I hesitantly asked, to which I heard, while noticing it was definitely Robin speaking, “Yeah, I found a couple earpieces and tuned them to each other. Don’t know how I managed, but hey, if it ain't broke, don’t knock it.”

I chuckled, and responded, “Fair. Let’s get this show on the proverbial road and the literal stage.”

I pushed my way through the crowd, passing Captain Americas, Captain Rogers’, Captain Mal Reynolds’, and many others that were not Captains. Finally, I made my way to the stage. Wondering what exactly I would say, I jumped up onto it, where there were luckily no people, and muttered to myself, “I’m an introvert, and yet I’m here at such an extrovert place, about to do something terrifying. It’s a good thing I really want to get home, and I really hope this works.”

I activated my charm as people looked up at me, wondering what an elf was doing up on stage, and began speaking.

“Hello, all of you. You might be wondering what I’m doing up here on stage. To be honest, I am not sure either, but I think I’m supposed to give a demonstration or whatever it’s called for my cosplay, but they didn’t really tell me. Hey, can I get some boxes or something destructible up here?”

A couple confused convention workers brought up some empty boxes, while I sweated, wondering if I should make a run for it. Somehow, though, nobody came up and stopped me. I wasn’t even sure why there was a stage up here in the first place. Was an event or actual demonstration supposed to happen? Whatever the case, this was working, and I could see Robin up there scanning the crowd, though none of them really should be interested yet.

It was time to change that.

I deftly pulled out my sword, keeping it in this dimension. I did some basic fighter’s moves, which seemed to impress the people.

“This is one of two Vorpal blades of mine. The name is misleading, or rather, does not do my blades justice. A vorpal blade simply is one that has the capacity to decapitate a foe, especially in fantasy games such as Dungeons and Dragons. However, all of my blades are like that.”

A few nervous laughs floated to me. I looked up at Robin for support, and he gave me a thumbs up. He spoke to me, saying, “Now, tell them the special thing and give them a little demonstration.”

“Okay. My blades are special, for they are enchanted. They can change dimensions at my will, and thus pass through objects in this one when I desire, and join back up in this one to cut what I want.”

To demonstrate, I deftly stabbed my sword at the first box, phasing it just before it broke the flimsy cardboard.

“Now, that may not look impressive, as you do not know that my blades do any damage at all, or that these boxes were not staged so I would not appear to do any damage. Furthermore, optical illusions could render it such that I did not stab the cardboard at all, and thus am a fraud. Now, will someone please come up here? I really don’t care who.”

People murmured amongst themselves, until one person stepped forward.

“I will,” they said, and I asked them a little about themselves. They were John, a human male, who came alone, dressed as The Arrow from DC. He loved coming to Comic-Con, and was excited at the opportunity to be a part of what he thought of as a very real and planned demonstration. He came up on stage, and I appraised him.

“I loved your T.V. show,” I said, saying the first thing that popped into my head. I had never seen a single episode, but knew that it was a thing and hoped he wouldn’t question me.

He beamed at me, and said, “Thank you! You are a really good elf!”

“I try. Now,” I directed this at the crowd, “I shall prove, in front of a witness, that these blades are no joke.”

I quickly pulled the handles close to myself, phased them back into reality, and drove them into the boxes. They easily cut through them, for they were designed to cut through things much tougher than some boxes. I then rapidly whirled, phased my blades out of sync, swept the handles just in front of John’s face, and phased them back in sync with the world. I asked a stunned, slightly scared John to touch the blades, and he reported they were very sharp.

“Now, was that an optical illusion? I think not. I am also a great fighter, and master of small charms.” At this, I tossed up a charm I had created haphazardly and quickly earlier, which exploded into a sunburst of light. I had built it to be merely light and not also heat, a better model, I think, than the fireworks of Earth. I pulled another from my cloak, threw it to the ground, and watched as the image of a unicorn burst from it, dazzling the crowd as it dashed between them, an apparition and nothing more. After lapping the center, it returned to the charm, which I picked up. I asked John to return, and I thought about what I would do next.

I heard Robin tell me, “I may have found someone. Here, let me give you some sight.” Before I could protest, I was looking through one of Robin’s eyes and one of my own, which was quite disconcerting. I closed the eye connected to my own vision, and looked through Robin’s. He was looking at a wizard, quite a well done cosplay, perhaps too well done. He was staring attentively at me, but not the same way as the others. He wasn’t awed, or surprised, just kinda wide-eyed, like he couldn’t believe someone else was here. I nodded, prepared for vertigo, and opened my other eye.

After a moment, I noticed the position of the wizard. I noted him in my mind, noted where he was, and whispered to Robin to disconnect us. My vision was yanked back to my own perspective, which was nice, and I prepared my next bit. Everyone was still oohing and aahing at my magic, and so I decided to have a little fun.

“You there!” my voice boomed, my finger pointed at the wizard. He panicked, and I quickly said, “No, please, come on up. I won’t hurt you, I just want another person for my next part. John was lovely, but you look like you know some real magic!” I laughed, and the audience laughed as well. He was pushed forward, and reluctantly got up on stage.

“Now, what is your name?” I asked him, which was the polite way to go about things, I believed.

He glared at me, and responded, “I am Thuzhal, a wizard banished to this realm for many heinous acts.”

“Ooh, nice backstory. I like it! What kinds of acts?” I replied enthusiastically.

He sighed, and said, “Well, people don’t really ask me, so I say they’re heinous. I was just kinda messing around and apparently broke something important, and so I was magically exiled. I was trying to figure out how to get back in, looking through probably forbidden texts, when I tried a spell to return me to the place so I could undo my exile, but it instead sent me across dimensions and I ended up on this technology-ridden, climate-changed planet.”

I clapped, and people in the audience followed my example. “I like that! Gives you an objective, something dark, and just enough flare of mystery. Now, my good sir, I am also not from around here. I was transported here when I tried to figure out the true magical nature of my staff, here-” I gestured at the staff I had leaned against a wall, yes, obviously the one topped with the spider, “-and found myself in a cornfield in Illinois! Naturally, I was confused, as corn does not exist in my world, and I did not know that I had changed dimensions. Now, my man, I believe we can help each other! You know magic and magical items, and I have my staff! Now, for my demonstration…” I decided to try a little something. I pulled out my blades, and concentrated on making them visible, but slightly out of sync with Earth. The sword blades usually became invisible when phased, but I did my best to keep that from happening.

The blades flickered, trying to change dimensions, but I did my best. Eventually, they came into full view, but I passed them gently through my hand to make sure they weren’t physical. I then whirled and, similarly to what I did with John, tried to swing it through the wizard’s neck. However, he was also armed, and so tried to block my attack, which obviously failed. My blade passed straight through him, and he retaliated, swinging a small dagger at me with ferocity and a wild look in his eyes. From the way he handled his blade, I could tell he wasn’t experienced. This was going to end quickly, luckily, I thought, and parried his frenzied swing.

With a series of quick swipes, jabs, kicks, and punches, I disarmed the wizard and sent him to his knees. “Look, man, I didn’t want this to happen. I’m sorry for swinging at you, but it was part of the demonstration. You can get up and help me, or leave, alone, stuck here, probably never to return to your home. Which would you prefer?”

Thuzhal considered my words, and grudgingly got to his feet. I handed him his dagger, which appeared to be made of mithril, and smiled.

“Good, now let’s get out of here. I’m not even supposed to be demonstrating anything here, I just got up on stage and nobody stopped me for whatever reason.” I deactivated my microphone-like charm, and told Robin, “Come on, let’s go.”

He ran into a door, and quickly joined me. I surveyed the crowd, which was full of whispers, no doubt about me and what I had just said. I jumped down, followed by Thuzhal and Robin, and we pushed past the crowd, out of the door, and ran a block before slowing to a walk. We returned to our motel, and I was happy we had managed to complete our goal for that day.

“I’m afraid we may have a problem,” Thuzhal said, walking into the bedroom.

“What kind of problem?” I asked, a little surprised by his sudden entrance and a little frustrated that he couldn’t immediately solve all of our problems.

He winced at the strength of my words, and responded, “Well, I know what kind of magic it uses, and I can partially control it. However, I cannot control the exact dimension. I can make it so that we don’t end up places we can’t survive, like in the vastness of space, or on a planet where the air is poisonous. We will have to travel many worlds until we either get lucky and end up in the right one, or find someone who can use your energy signatures to lock onto our universe. Will that work?”

I thought about it, looked over at Robin, who was sitting cross-legged on his bed, and looked back at Thuzhal. “Well, I guess we don’t really have a choice, so let’s go with that. Do we have any idea how long this will take?”

Thuzhal grinned, and said loudly, “Nope!”

I sighed, and replied, “Well, pack your bags. Might as well get right on down to it.”

We packed the gear we wanted to bring with us, which included some probably illegal items. It has been neglected to mention that these items included two assault rifles, lots of ammo, a couple grenades, a few other guns, including a sniper rifle and a pistol (of course we also had plenty of those ammos as well, and I intended to get a blacksmith or something to break them open and figure out how to make them and potentially augment them/the gun.). There were others, but I shouldn’t really mention them.

We gathered behind the motel, in the parking lot, after checking out and getting our stuff all ready. I readied myself for what was about to happen, planted the staff at arm’s length in front of me, and Robin and Thuzhal both grabbed it. After exchanging grim looks with both of them, I grabbed the spider, and it did the same thing as the previous time we used it, though the eyes seemed to glow brighter and the wind seemed stronger. I closed my eyes, and wondered what would happen on the other side, just before I lost consciousness.

When I returned to consciousness, I was confused. The sky was a pastel purple, with red dots swirling through it. It seemed like some kind of strange dream, and its colors were chaos. The ground was some kind of acid green, and there were portable toilets everywhere. They were in every shade, from green to blue to pink to yellow. I closed my eyes, as I felt a migraine coming on. I shaded my eyes and reopened them, looking at the ground for Robin and Thuzhal. I found Thuzhal covering his eyes, peeking through his fingers at the landscape, and Robin was still passed out on the ground. Oh, and, by the way, Thuzhal is a human.

“This is a strange world you have brought us to, elf,” he told me, and I followed his gaze. I had originally thought that the toilets were just sitting there, but as I really looked at them, I saw that they were moving. There was even a small village, made of what I couldn’t say, as there wasn’t a tree or rock around. Even the ground itself was a deep green, and made of a substance I couldn’t make out. It was smooth, and I could push my hand through it, like a partial liquid. It was strange, as none of us were sinking into it, but it didn’t seem like good building material. The toilets weren’t walking, or splitting apart in any way, but just seemed to glide, all of which seemed very strange and impossible to me. When they came to a step, they seemed like they just jumped, but with no downward movement to create thrust upward, if that makes sense.

“Let’s… explore?” I said hesitantly, and Thuzhal strode toward the settlement. I followed him, after a moment’s consideration, and dragged Robin behind me. When we got closer, we could see that it was made of some kind of wood, and so I guessed that they had just taken down any trees in view. It seemed similar to a Wild West town, minus the dust everywhere, horses, natural colors, or people. I was quite unnerved, and moved close to one of the johns.

“Uh… hello?” I said (asked?) hesitantly. It’s door turned to me, and it seemed to make an annoyed, squishy sound from within it.

“Do you guys have any wizards or magic folk at all?” I asked it. It moved toward me, making angry sounds from within it, and I backed away. “I don’t think it likes the sound of ‘wizard’.” It moved faster, squishing louder, and other toilets started coming over. I pulled Robin into a fireman’s carry on my back, and readied one of my blades.

“We should get out of here, Thuzhal,” I told him, and he nodded, his eyes frantic. I turned and ran, but there were toilets everywhere.

“No time! We have to do it here!” I shouted, and he grabbed the staff. I shrugged Robin forward and held his hand around the pole, and grabbed the arachnid on top.

When I awoke, I simply lay there. I didn’t really want to open my eyes and find out where we had landed, but I suppose it would have to happen eventually. I slowly opened my eyes, and squinted at the bright light coming from the sun… suns? There were two shining orbs in the sky, one more yellow-y, and one more orange-y. It was very hot, and the ground was grainy. When I looked at the landscape, I saw that we were in a large desert of sand, and there were a couple houses in the distance. It looked like about midday, but I couldn’t be sure how long the day lasted, so it would be best to start moving. I got to my feet, and noticed that both Thuzhal and Robin were still passed out.

“Hey,” I said, shaking Robin. He stirred, and started moving. I moved over to Thuzhal, and patted his shoulder.

“Wakey, wakey, time to get up sleepyhead,” I told Thuzhal, and his eyes snapped open, then quickly shut.

“Where are we, and why is it so bright?” Thuzhal said, and Robin nodded in agreement.

I shrugged. “I’m not sure, but there are some houses over there, we can ask them. I hope it goes better this time than last time.”

Robin looked confused. He held up a finger, and said, “Last time? Do you mean Earth?”

I was also confused for a second, before I remembered that Robin had been asleep the previous dimension.

“Well, we travelled dimensions, and you know how we always fall unconscious when we do that? Well, you were asleep while Thuzhal and I almost died from sentient Porta-Potties.”

This only served to bewilder him even more, and I described the events that had taken place in the strange, colorful dimension.

“Anyway,” I said, finishing up, “we should get moving. We aren’t going to kill ourselves, after all!”

With that lovely remark, we started walking toward the houses. It was extremely hot, hotter than Calimport, even hotter than California in summer. I didn’t know how people handled it, but then I thought, perhaps the people here are different and more adapted to this environment.

After probably 15 minutes, we got to the houses. They were strange, quite small and kinda dome-like, circular, with person-height walls and a sloped, domed kinda roof. It was similarly colored as the sand, probably so that it could blend in, though the satellite dish looking thing on top of it kinda ruined the effect. It was silvery, and very much did not blend in.

“Sh-should we go in?” I asked tentatively, and Thuzhal marched forward, grinning. “Um, is that a yes?”

“I recognize this place!” he said in response, and knocked on the first door. I rushed toward him, but it was too late.

“HOW, exactly can you recognize this? You’ve never been here! You were directly transported to-” A thought rushed into my mind, causing me to stop in my tracks. “It’s like Faerûn, huh? Someone came from this world, or travelled here, and made a story or whatever based on this place?”

He slowly nodded, and simply replied, “Star Wars.”

The door opened, sliding to one side, and a man came out. I hadn’t seen a lot about Star Wars, but there were a lot of cosplayers at Comic-Con that I had recognized as probably being from this universe. The person that opened the door looked like Obi-Wan, except his hair was black. I blinked, for, while it was true I didn’t know much about Star Wars (already mentioned, but it makes this sentence flow better. Shut up, stupid), I knew that: 1. He wasn’t supposed to be on Tatooine until much later, when he looked old with white hair, or something, and 2. His hair was brown, not black. All of this was very confusing, especially once Qui Gon Jinn walked past, asking, “Who is it, honey?”

“U… u-um, I’m Alushtas, and these are Robin and Thuzhal,” I stammered, my eyes searching for answers I doubted I would easily find.

“Ah, hello! What lovely and strange names! What can I do for you?” he asked nicely, and I looked at my companions.

“Uh, can we come in? I think we need to talk to you,” I said kinda randomly, for I was still very confused and needed to figure out what was happening.

He smiled, and ushered us in. “Honey, come meet our guests!” he said, and Qui Gon walked back in.

I looked back and forth between the two men, and I asked Obi-Wan, “Why does he keep calling you ‘honey’?”

They looked at each other and smiled, and Obi-Wan told me, “Well, we were dating for a while, but then this wonderful man approached me, what, probably almost a year and a half ago, and proposed to me! Of course, I said yes, and we’ve been living here ever since, happier than ever!” Qui Gon came over and hugged Obi-Wan deeply, and the two men sat down on a couch, holding hands.

Thuzhal looked confused as well, though I had realized that this was not the normal Star Wars universe I knew, and the wizard asked, “Where is Luke? I thought he lived here.”

“Well, yes, he has, but once he married his spouse, they’ve been travelling the galaxy. Would you like some blue milk?”

“Uh, sure,” I said, and Obi-Wan waved his hand. A glass came over to me, as if by magic, and I sipped it warily. It was good, similar to Earth milk, but more coconut-y.

“Soooo, who has Luke married, anyway?” I asked Qui Gon, taking a longer drink from my glass.

“Oh, he ran off with that hooligan, Han Solo, for a bit, but he came back eventually, and told me they were getting married. I was shocked, for it seemed sudden, but they were happy, and so we gave them our blessing,” he replied, and I, suddenly realizing something, asked another question (we really wanted to ask questions, I guess), “So what happened to Chewbacca?”

“Ah, good old Chew. They are going around the galaxy, exploring, happy by themselves. They liked Han, but they always felt less, you know? They are very introverted, and just like to explore. They find people difficult to understand, and they’ve told me that everyone just goes too quickly for them. Last I heard, they were going to Coruscant, which is nice.”

“Mhm. Anyway, you guys haven’t mastered inter-dimensional travel yet, have you?” I asked, realizing that, while cool, this place wasn’t really gonna help us.

“Unfortunately, that project was shut down because of its possible repercussions and side effects and all that,” he told me, “did you need something like that?”

I shrugged, and said, “Yeah, it would’ve been nice, but I think we might be able to manage. We should be going, though. Thank you, both of you, for everything.”

Qui Gon smiled at us, and asked, “Are you sure you want to leave? We’d be happy for you to stay.”

I sadly smiled back at him, and replied, “Yeah, we need to go.”

We said our goodbyes, and left. When we were out of sight of the house, it was probably about midnight.

“Well guys? Shall we?” I said, holding out the spider-adorned staff.

We travelled through many more dimensions, probably more than I could ever describe. As we travelled, and got used to dimension-hopping, we slept for less and less time, and eventually simply got tired, and then slightly dizzy.

Something that I have talked about, but not really explained, was that Earth was a Chaos realm. This means that both magic and technology work there, though there are other realms in which magic works and tech doesn’t, ones where tech works and magic doesn’t, and ones where neither work. However, this is a flawed perspective. It is one described by wizards of old in my world (yes, interdimensional travel isn’t completely unknown back home in Faerun), and their experiences in other realms.

This is flawed for a couple reasons. It isn’t so simple as just ‘technology and magic, or one, or neither’. Magic can take many forms, and magic that works in one place doesn’t necessarily work in another. In the Star Wars-like world, there were Jedi that could manipulate objects using their mind and what they called the Force, which seems to be a type of magic. Meanwhile, my own magic could have been unstable or unusable, because it is a different world than mine. Similarly, magic could exist on Earth, though its inhabitants didn’t usually have it, leading to unpredictable results. I was lucky that only a couple of my charms failed or had issues, and not more of them. There were many other forms of magic, but to go into detail would take too long.

Technology is also a difficult thing to pin down. It’s basically just the application of knowledge for practical purposes, and so almost anything creature-made could be said to be technology. Again, some technology could function in some places, but not in others. Some steampunk worlds, for instance, couldn’t ‘fathom’ the existence of further innovation, like cars or computers. Other worlds were stuck in the Stone Age, and in some, not even bird’s nests could be made. I am not sure what would happen if one tried to make a bird’s nest in that world, but I had decided not to find out.

As we went along in our journey, I collected items. I wanted mementos of our travels, and hey, they might be useful in the future. Unfortunately, I wasn’t always able to pick things up, whether because of being chased by the inhabitants of the world or something else (and if you’re wondering if I took something from the Star Wars world, yes, I palmed a handle-looking thing with a button from a counter). This led to some fights, some running, and some pain. Still, I wanted certain items, like I think one was called a “Babel fish”, which allowed me to understand others, no matter what language they spoke.

Something that I realized was that no matter where we went, some items were still able to be used. I eventually figured out that it was because they were dimensional items, which transcended some of the ordinary rules of the realms. We started with two - the staff itself, which is a good thing, because otherwise we would’ve ended up stranded on a random world. The other was my Vorpal blades, which was nice, because I liked them. However, the realm we received the third (and fourth and fifth?) dimensional item(s) was very… strange…

We had come from a world of robots. There wasn’t a single human, elf, dog, orc, sentient species of any kind, or really any organic being that we found. Everything was automated, and seemed as though there had once been people, but then they had left, potentially leaving the robots there to keep things up until they returned. However, we realized that it was unlikely, if not impossible, that a machine could bring us home, rather than magic. Therefore, we left pretty quickly, though not before I got a small bracelet that had nanotech that could form a dagger in my hand in a millisecond, which could be quite useful.

When we arrived in the new realm, we found ourselves in a smallish room. There was a bed of flowers, yellow flowers, illuminated by a fairly dim light coming through a hole in the ceiling of the room. Actually, it seemed more like a cave, though we couldn’t really be completely sure. There was a hallway, or corridor, or whatever to our right. We went through it, and found a doorway.

We went through it, and walked through a system of rooms, some of which had puzzles, and traps, though none of them actually hurt us (well, except for Robin, who got a sprained ankle after falling through some leaves). We saw beings, some might call them monsters or abominations, which had very strange physical makeups. This wasn’t really uncommon for us to see, because of everywhere we had already been, but weird stuff is weird. One had a large eye as most of its body, and another looked similar to a frog. They ran from us, so we didn’t have to worry about fighting them, and when we got to the end of the rooms, we came to a small house.

We tentatively opened the door, and found the house deserted (or at least visibly so, and nobody came to the door to see who was there). There were stairs leading down to what I assumed was a basement right in front of us, a living room looking area to our left, and a hallway to our right. It seemed like an odd way to set up a house, but again, lots of places were quite queer (in both senses of the term).

Anyway, we entered the living room. There was a table with chairs, bookshelves with books on them - “How to Cook Snails, Snail Basics, Meals with Snails?” -, and an armchair in front of a fireplace, fire included, which seemed like a fire hazard, but whatever. We didn’t find anyone, so we went through the door leading out of the room (not the one we entered).

We were in a kitchen, which seemed normal, except the stove didn’t work, there was white fur in the sink, and a pie on the counter. There was a faint smell of pie crust and cinnamon in the air, and I took a slice for later, in case I might want it (hey, I’m a thief, what would you expect, perfect morals?). We went back to the first room, and entered the hall.

There were three doors, two of which were bedrooms. We decided not to explore them, though one looked more like a child’s bedroom and one like an adult’s. The third was locked, however, and had a sign that read, ‘Room under Renovations’. Because there was no more of the house to explore, we went down the stairs to the basement.

There wasn’t really an actual basement, as far as we could tell. It was a long hallway, which, after walking the entirety of, showed us a doorway, similar to the one at the entrance, which we went through, as we didn’t want to walk back. We found ourselves in some kind of snowy, forest-y area, though, when we looked up to the sky, we could faintly see a cavern roof.

I’ll spare you the details, but basically, we went through this region, a very wet, cave-like region, and a very hot area. In the hot area, we came across a laboratory, which we chose to go into. It had a large video screen, seemingly inactive, though I couldn’t tell its use. As we continued walking through the building, we saw a cluttered desk, a bag of dog food(?), and a dark hole in the wall. When we got to the hole, the door to a bathroom hitherto unseen opened, and a tall lizard woman (?) came out. She looked quite surprised to see us, but hurried over nonetheless.

“More humans? This is quite unusual… umm… hello? Who are you?” she asked hesitantly.

“I am Alushtas, and I am not a human… which I only tell you because I don’t know why. I am an elf, This is Robin, he’s a human, and Thuzhal, whose race I never actually found out, I think,” I responded.

“And I would prefer to keep it that way,” Thuzhal said, smiling and extending his hand toward the person. “And you are…?”

“Oh!” She blushed furiously. “M-my name is A-alphys, and I’m the-the royal scientist for King Asgore.”

“Oh, that’s cool. Do you guys have any, you know…, magic?” I asked Alphys. We seemed to do a lot of questioning in these worlds, and not much else.

“K-kinda, we have magical a-attacks and the like, and fire magic, and probably other kinds.”

“Oh.” I must’ve looked really sad, because she immediately responded with, “B-but that’s okay! Here, I can improve your phones! You… don’t… have phones? Um, I can get you phones!”

She rushed upstairs up an escalator, then quickly came down another closer to the entrance. She was holding three small objects, which I assumed was a phone, and hoped her word for phone meant the same thing it meant for me, because it could be useful. It seemed that way, so yay.

“Here! I have a phone for each of you! Y-yes, I had them l-laying around… anyway, they can text, access the internet wherever, access special Dimensional Boxes, defuse bombs, and activate a jetpack! Here, t-take them!”

We each took a phone, and I immediately checked out the Dimensional Boxes. They each had space for 8 items, seemingly no matter the size, which didn’t make sense, but whatever. There were 3 boxes, which was nice, so I didn’t have to worry about 24 items taking up space in my Bag of Holding.

“Sweet, thank you!” I said, and she blushed again. “Oh, don’t worry, I just like helping people! S-speaking of which, there was this human that came through a bit ago. Have y-you seen them? I think Toriel is coming after them, and I’m a b-bit worried.”

Thuzhal and I exchanged looks as Robin looked between us. “No, we haven’t seen anybody except a couple dudes back at that purple place,” I told her, and her eyes widened.

“O-oh! You n-need to go… I’m s-sorry I can’t help more! Now, g-get out of here!”

She pushed us out of a back door, while I protested and tried to ask her about dimensional travelling. She didn’t listen to me, and locked the door after us.

“Well, now what? Do we go after the human? Do we go see the king? Do we leave? What do you dudes think?” I asked, looking at Robin and Thuzhal, whose backs were to the lab.

“I think I can help!” a cheery voice said from behind. I whirled around, dagger forming in my hand. A little yellow flower had popped up from the ground, and it had a face which was smiling at us.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Thuzhal asked, suspicious of the small being.

“I’m Flowey! Flowey the flower! You were just talking to that overgrown lizard, huh? Don’t listen to her, she doesn’t know what she’s talking about!” the golden flower told us.

“Um, she seemed nice, while you were insulting her. Not really the way to play the ‘nice guy’ card,” Robin interjected.

Flowey gave a wide smile, and said, “Oh, sorry. We all insult her, ‘cause she’s senile and ignorant of the world. Even nice old King Asgore cracks jokes about her!”

By this point, I was very unsettled, but decided to humor Flowey. “So, you said you can help us. How?”

“Easy! The rules down here are simple. You k i l l, o r y o u b e k i l l e d.” As he spoke, his face grew ugly, into a mixture of a smile and a look of utter hatred. He sent little white bullets at us, which we tried to dodge, but some still hit us. They really hurt, and it felt like my life force itself was being sapped. I swung my dagger at him, but he popped back into the ground and back up a bit further on.

“Hope you guys have fun! See ya later!” he said, smiling, and vanished into the ground.

“That… was horrible,” I said, and both of my companions nodded.

“We should leave and never return.” Again, they nodded.

I pulled out the staff from my Bag, held it out, and we did our thing. However, as we began to flicker out of the strange, underground world, none of us noticed the edge of a flower root curling around the base of the staff.

wasn’t really sure how to say that Flowey was comin with the gang (obv without them wanting hiim to :P) with the exact wording, so I used ‘flower root’, but I am open to suggestions or changes if you think soething should change. It mgiht not, because I know hwere this is going and you don’t, but you coudl definitely help!

1 note · View note