Deunified Plot Chaos- An Experiment in Multiplots

's okay. Just post when you can.

(OOC: New plan.)

Godia grabbed the messenger and said, "hold that, actually. I'm not sure I want some idiot adventurer bumbling around Glenlight. I'll... find another way to deal with it. Any details on the dragon?"

"Yes. They say she's an old, powerful one. Clever. She came in from the East, and she moved her entire hoard to that old elven ruin, Anua. It's built into a volcano, so it's safe to assume her element is fire, or maybe earth."

Godia nodded and said, "don't worry. I know someone I can trust with this."

Several hours later, Godia was entering Anua. She'd changed into practical leather armor, and wore a sword at her side. She silently entered the ruins, looking for signs of disturbance. Anua was unspeakably hot; it was filled with lamps that had once held cooling spells, but they had long since died out. She saw disturbances in the dust; humanoid footprints. Powerful dragons, like the one she hunted, could shift into a humanoid form; no doubt this was exactly what her present enemy had done, to fit into the ruins.

She turned into a particularly hot room, and found herself staring at a bizarre sight. It had once held a bathhouse, but now the bath was filled with molten gold. And, casually bathing in the gold was a woman. She was bald, but incredibly attractive, with crimson skin and golden eyes. A single scar, a pretty little slash, marked her right eye; no doubt the dragon had consciously chosen to include it in her current form, as it only added to her dangerous beauty. She looked at Godia and said, in a slow, lazy droll, "ah, yes. The little duchess. I was wondering when you'd show up. Saved me the trouble of disposing of adventurers, I see." She smiled, revealing sharp teeth, and exited the bath. Godia couldn't help but stare; she was a beautiful woman, and the sight of the molten gold running down her body... Godia re-focused onto the dragon's face. Attractive as she might be, she was still very dangerous, even in this humanoid form.

Seeing Godia's attention wandering to her body, the dragon's smile widened, and she said, "ah, so the rumors are true. Though I must confess, I find this form rather ugly myself, I think, little duchess, you feel differently. Care to come closer, little duchess, and feel my warm embrace?" Godia backed away; she doubted she'd survive a "warm embrace" from anyone who'd just exited a pool of liquid metal. The dragon said, "ah, I thought not. You humans are ever so frail. Well, little duchess, I have an offer to make you. You can try and kill me, but I don't think you'd succeed. Even in this form, I'm more than a match for a rusty adventuress. So, let us be civilized. I am Vassurosh, and I offer you a deal."

Warily, Godia said, "speak."

"Oh, is that all you can say? 'Speak?' As though I am some dog? Really, how have you survived this long amongst the nobility? Ah, yes, but I digress. I need you to deliver a question to the Oracle of Alleantis. If you agree to do this, and leave within the week, I swear by the First Dragon that I shall not harm Glenlight. I further swear by the First Dragon I shall not permit any living creature, not even my own kin, to bring harm to Glenlight, and that, if you bring me the Oracle's answer to my question, I shall serve Glenlight, and you, little duchess, for the rest of time, and I shall grant you immortality, if you wish it. Finally, I swear by the First Dragon that I shall avenge your death should you fall. And, of course..." she flicked a serpentine tongue across her lips, "I may even consider getting to know you... more closely."

Goida studied Vassurosh, wondering what question could possibly inspire such a generous offer. No dragon would break an oath made by the First Dragon. Finally, Godia said, "what is your question, dragon, and why is it so important to you?"

Vassurosh replied, "my question is this: how can Magic triumph over Technology? For you see, ordinary, mortal men can threaten even me, wielding the power of Technology. For my kind to avoid extinction, Magic must triumph. And know, little duchess, that you are as doomed as I am before the march of Technology. So we shall both benefit from the answer to this question. Now go, and may the First Dragon guide your steps." With a seductive smile, Vassurosh finished, "I'll be waiting."

Back at her manor (to call it a castle would have suggested defensibility), Godia began packing her old magic bag. A sword, some armor, plenty of clean clothes, everything she figured she would need for her journey. Finally, she said to her page: "I need a crier at the town center. Have him announce that any young lads or lasses who feel like adventure — and can wield a weapon or a spell without hurting themselves — are free to join me for a... trade mission to Alleantis. As far as anyone needs to know, I'm just going to Alleantis to renegotiate with their merchants about the value of Glenlight's wines. We've had a good harvest after all, so I figure we should renegotiate the prices anyways. Oh, and Vassurosh — the dragon — will trouble us no more. If she snatches cattle from the surrounding lands, that's their problem, but I have a feeling she intends to lay low, and I got her to swear by the First Dragon she'll trouble us not."

edited 7th Mar '11 3:12:29 PM by KillerClowns

After several walks around the block to try and regain his sobriety, Jonathan took the subway back to his apartment. It was still several blocks away, though, through a less-than-pleasant suburb, and he had a bad headache. He briefly wondered how cold he would get sleeping on a bench in the station, but decided against it.

He was about halfway home, with almost no one in sight, when a limo pulled up next to him. It honked its horn at him several times.

"Scram," he muttered, and tried to ignore it. In this neighbourhood, it could mean nothing good.

The limo honked again. He muttered obscene things at it under his breath and kept walking.

The limo revved its engine and pulled up ahead of him. Several people in suits got out and walked up to him. Jonathan finally stopped and asked them, "What do you want?"

"The question, Mr. Sandusky," said one, "is not what we want, but what you want."

"A bacon sandwich," Jonathan replied immediately.

The man faltered. "What?"

"Bacon sandwiches cure hangovers. I've got one right now, so I really want a bacon sandwich."

The man blinked several times, but managed to recover. "That is not what I mean," he said. "Why do you do what you do? Oppose the Encato?"

Jonathan noticed that the others had circled him. "Because the world could do without grown-up bullies."

"What?" asked the man, apparently surprised.

"The Encato take what they want, steal, terrorize those less powerful than them, and bribe others to not notice them. The only thing separating them from schoolyard bullies is that they have machine guns and dragons."

"Could you be persuaded to cease your activities against them?"

"You going to do something about them?"

"Leave that to us."

Jonathan took out his threatening voice. He'd had years of practice. "Are you going to do something about them?" he asked, much more forcefully.

The man nervously backed away. "Well, that's-"

"I will not stop opposing them unless you can give me your plans against them. Now."

The man attempted to say something, but couldn't.

Something clicked in Jonathan's brain, and he went for his concealed pistol. He actually had it out before something hit him in the neck and he began to feel woozy. He slapped an arm to his neck and pulled away a tranquilizer dart. "Shit," he swore, and dropped to the ground, pretending to be knocked out.

The man who had been speaking to him stood over him. "Get him int-"

Jonathan shot him in the leg several times before blacking out completely.

(OOC: I might be lying low for a while to see how others write. Just FYI.)

edited 7th Mar '11 8:30:54 PM by TeraChimera

(OOC: Enter my character, Ches.)

The wind was strong out on the ledge; it was a rushing pressure against Ches’ legs, a force pushing on her skin. Although she was dressed for gliding, she kept her tagia tucked close around her body. If the wind caught it, it would unbalance her, and she would die of embarrassment if she stumbled on a day like this.

She looked out over the land, spread like an unrolled carpet before her, tilting her head back to let the wind hit her face full on. Her hair whipped in the wind, long and streaked grey and white. Soon she would be out there, in that world. It was all hers.

“Ches,” she heard softly from behind her. She turned to face the cliff.

There was a crowd of her friends and family there to see her off – as well as the Elders.

Her mother and father were there, smiling at her proudly. They wore their tagia under wide belts of soft cloth – they wouldn’t be gliding today.

“Luck for the journey, Ches,” her mother said, and enfolded her in a hug. Ches hugged her back, breathing in the scent of her clothing, and then her father.

“You won’t be calling me that for long,” Ches said.

Her father laughed. “Be careful, little one.”

“Ches Delataglia,” The High Elder said smoothly. Ches stepped away from her parents to face the High Elder, butterflies filling her stomach.

The Elder smiled, the creases framing her mouth and eyes deepening, and Ches smiled back, reassured. The Elder’s tunic and belt were elaborately embroidered, and the circlet of office shone on her white tresses. “Are you ready, Ches Delataglia?”

“I’m ready,” Ches said.

The Elder inclined her head. The words she spoke came from tradition, and flowed from her lips easily with the many, many times she had said them. “There comes a time when every young man and woman must set out alone,” she said. “It does not matter where you go once you leave us, it only matters that you go. There is no set destination, for it is not the destination that matters, it is what you find inside yourself on the journey. Go with the blessing of your elders, your clan and your family. You must not return until you have found yourself a true name. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Ches said. “I understand.”

“And I ask again, are you ready?”

“I am ready,” Ches said. Her fingers and toes were tingling with the desire to launch herself out into the world. “I go with your blessings.”

The Elder enfolded Ches in an embrace, and kissed her lightly on the forehead. Then she stepped back, leaving nobody standing in the open save Ches.

The cliff beckoned, but Ches turned her back on it and walked away, as far from the edge as she could get. Ches looked at her parents, standing there in amongst her friends and family. They had their arms around each other. She smiled at them, and then turned her face towards the cliff. The wind slapped her in the face like a challenge.

She ran at the cliff, lightly-shod feet slapping the bare stone, arms pumping, and as she neared the edge she pushed off with both feet, and flung herself out into the open air.

She felt that dizzying, soaring lurch as she fell for half a second, arms outstretched.

Then the wind filled her tagia, the skin that stretched between her arms and legs, and she was flying. The wind bore her up, up and away from the cliff, and the land was spread out underneath her, dizzyingly far away. Ches let out a whoop of pure excitement. It wasn’t quite in keeping with the dignity of the occasion, but who cared?

This was it. Onwards to adventure!

(OOC: Just tying things together a bit. Doge is an Italian title, if you're wondering.)

[A letter, from Vassurosh, sent to Yoth; the original was encoded, and warded with powerful spells.]

Honored Doge of the Encato in Yoth, I greet you. May the blessings of the Fair Queen be upon you, and may your life be filled with Her holy laughter.

I have found us an agent, Duchess Godia Glenlight. She is unaware of my position as Doge of the Encato in Azalas, and I ask that, should she meet you, she be kept unaware of this, and your own position. This is important; at her heart, Godia is an honorable woman, and in order for our plan to succeed, she must remain so. The Oracle will treat one seeking to protect her people far more kindly than any of us, after all, and while I doubt we will obtain a straight answer, we will hopefully get enough. Now, what I need from you should be obvious: if anyone tries to harm so much as a single hair on the Duchess' pretty head, or trouble any allies she brings with her, I want them destroyed. Do so however you feel appropriate, but make certain their end comes swiftly and silently. Should anyone succeed in killing her, inform me immediately, and I shall show them the meaning of fear. Forward this message to the other Doges of the Encato; I don't wish for her protection to vanish when she exits Yoth, after all.

With blessings of pleasure and joy, the Doge of the Encato in Azalas

P.S. I have heard the news of that humiliation we suffered in Madrigal. Inform the Doge of the Encato in Madrigal that those "dragon eggs" he purchased were wyvern eggs, and that his supplier is either an idiot or a conman. Either way, he should deal with the fool. Perhaps it's for the best, however, as even dumb wyverns have their uses, as beasts of burden or weapons of terror, and had he attempted to domesticate a "true" dragon, his life would have been cut very short. That said, his inadvertent discovery that demons are vulnerable to laser weapons is very useful, though I hope in future he makes such discoveries without the aid of his local police force.

P.P.S. I have had many lovers in my millenia of life, but never a mermaid. Dear Doge, I understand your kind is curious by nature; if grow tired of men, by all means, send me a letter and I shall show you things you could never have imagined.

(OCC: So, is this just anything goes? Like, can there be elements beyond the fabric of reality as long as they aren't abused?)

(OOC: As far I know, yes. Just be sure to send your character to Cygan Angel.)

(OOC: After much personal thought and such, waying my options, I've decided to back out of this tale. Although it does look fun, I just looked at how many of my own projects are currently unfinished... let's just say, quite a few. So yes.)

edited 9th Mar '11 1:09:08 AM by E.H.Grayson

(OCC: Okay. It also says in the OP that I can post it here, so here we go:)

Name: Dal

Gender: Male

Appearance: As a human, brown hair, brown eyes, and usually wears a blue jacket. Basically, a normal human. As a bat, light brown fur, with normal brown wings. Since he used to be a human, he regularly washes himself with water because "[bats] are crazy. Whenever they fly, they pick up dust and anything lying around. Why they do not wash in water, I'm not sure of. What I AM sure of is that water cleanses more than a tongue would."

Backstory (OOC): Dal was a paladin born with the duty of becoming one of the guard. Quite often he would slack off and skip his Enyrin (En-yuh-rin) training. Enyrin is an art hard to learn, and even harder to master. It involves ridding of your feelings and focusing all your energy into one thing. It requires long, hard training, which doesn't permit any time for fooling around. Dal doesn't have any sense of responsibility. Out of the twenty training sessions he was supposed to go to, he's only been to six. One day, during a battle against a band of mages - one he does not even know the cause of - he got polymorphed into a bat- an animal that is regarded as bad luck in his country of Linyon (Lin-yuhn). After getting shoed out of the palace, he wanders through the streets of Linyon City, dazed and confused. Finally he decides to go to the practical no-nonsense fortune teller who goes by the name Haze.

Powers (if any): He knows some Enyrin (it works for all beings, if they decide to use it), although not much. Usually it fails in battle due to the abundance of fear and anger. Since he's a bat, he has echolocation, but not as powerful as a normal bat's due to his sight. He also has wings for flying - although he flies quite lopsided at first - and claws he can sheathe and unsheathe at will. This is what he usually resorts to in battle, despite that they can grow dull or break if used enough.

So, does he sound balanced enough, and not cliched or a marty stu? (Sorry if it goes against the theme of the story. Usually I write action stories, so I always have some form of attack in my characters.)

edited 8th Mar '11 2:34:53 PM by Collen

Sounds good to go.

(OCC: Okay then. I guess I'll start writing.)

All seemed to go silent. The world twisted and turned, but not like it had when he was flying. No, this was what the world was like for someone who has been through a great shock and on the verge of fainting. Dal landed down on the purple velvet-covered table, becoming the second object resting on it. The first was a glass orb- however, he did not see the person on the other side through it. Instead he saw flashing images of hooded, marching, silent people trudging along a wet plain. Dal knew who these figures were: Mages. White and Black, draped in shadows. He had become all too familiar with them.

However, the mages were not on the top of his mind- what he was thinking about had to do with him. "P-p-polywhat?!" He broke the silence by sputtering out one word.

The fortune teller on the other side remained calm despite his frantic flailing. "Polymorphed. It means that you were transformed into another animal with magic." The fortune who went by the name of Haze was an old women with gray hair. Despite this she still retained her psychic powers and continued to serve the people. The reason why Dal had come to see her was because she was a no-nonsense person who wouldn't shoe him away as soon as she saw him.

In Linyon, the country where they lived, most of the people were superstitious- they had odd ideas about omens and signs. Their beliefs varied between regions, but it was widely accepted that bats were bad luck, and that a bat flying directly under the full moon on a clear night meant death to whoever was under it's shadow.

Dal would never have questioned this if he hadn't been turned into a bat himself. Being a bat did not really give him any powers besides echolocation, claws, and the ability to scare mass groups of people away, but that usually feels better if done with a sword. Haze was the only person who would talk to him. The only person who would tell him what was going on.

"Well, if it's from a spell, isn't there a way to counter it? Without finding the magic-ting-of-mystical-runes-hidden-in-the-most-non-sensible-location-ever?" Dal asked hopefully. He didn't really grasp the situation that well, but he did know that he didn't want to be stuck as a bat forever.

The psychic paused for a second. Then she said, "Well, yes, but first you'd have to find a mage that doesn't want to kill you and isn't superstitious."

Dal gaped. "You-you know about that?"

"Of course! 'Psychic' isn't just a title, you know. I know everything about the attack."

Dal wasn't exactly knowledgeable in the field of magic- as a paladin, he had no magical powers. Enyrin was the closest thing to that, and he only knew a little about that too. Enyrin was an ability all the paladins study. It is achieved by ridding all emotions and focusing on one thing. It could win battles if used well enough. However, such a power is very hard to learn. It required obedience and rigorous training- something Dal wasn't that good at. Admittedly, he wasn't good at it even for someone his age. Out of the twenty training sessions they had, he only attended to six- the rest of the time he was out "frolicking", as the elders put it.

Could Enyrin help me as a bat? he thought, wishing he had studied harder.

"Can you find a mage that will help me?" Dal asked Haze.

She looked more intensely into the orb. "No, I cannot see. Perhaps that person is out of my reach- my powers aren't all that strong. You might find some lead in one of our libraries. I reccomend Lial and Araghon's libraries. But these are only suggestions- I don't know everything." She paused. "Not yet, at least."

Lial Valley or Araghon Mountains... what a choice. Neither are close to here. But then he remembered. I'm a bat, though. I can fly. Fly to the mountaintops piercing the sky of the world!

(OOC: Still heavy on exposition, I know. Dreams are good for back story, though. I too shall be laying low after this, and maybe a return letter from Yoth, see if we get any more players in the game, so to speak.)

Clearly, the people of Glenlight were smarter than Godia had thought. None had sought to join her. She didn't blame them. Maybe she'd pick up some hangers-on along the way, or maybe she'd go it alone. Such was life.

She checked her map: her first destination on her westward journey was Greentower. A logging town, under the control of Baron Richard Greentower. Technically, Godia outranked him, but in practice, they were equals. Glenlight was only a duchy by tradition, the last remnants of a realm that once ruled vast swathes of Azalas. For all intents and purposes, Godia was an baroness who simply happened to not have anyone between her and King Alexander II. Baron Greentower was somewhat bitter about this; they saw eye to eye on many matters, but Greentower always cringed when he had to call her "Duchess." Plus, Baron Greentower had a terrible crush on Godia, one that tested his wife's patience. So she hoped to get through Greentower without any awkward interactions.

She took her bag, slung it across her shoulders, and entered her waiting carriage. It was a smooth ride — Alexander II had a curious, unbridled enthusiasm for the infrastructure minutiae that allowed a kingdom like Azalas to operate smoothly, and well paved roads were part of that. The day turned to night, and the carriage was comfortable; sleep soon overtook her.

The streets of Skysea smelled of salt water. They always did. She was a little girl, weaving her way through the Skysea marketplace. Her mark; a short, jolly man with a black beard and glittering blue eyes. She casually walked past her mark, deftly slipping her fingers into his pockets. A single token, copper painted yellow, marked with a great eye inscribed in a triangle. She vanished into the marketplace.

She was back at her home, handing the token back to the mark. Her father. He smiled and said, "nicely done, my girl. Nearly missed ya myself, and I'm an old hand at the game. You've got talent, my dear." His smiled turned morose, though, and he sighed, turning to look out to the ocean. He continued, "still, I gotta say, it's no way to make a living. I'm fine with teaching you the tricks of the trade, as long as you want me to, but I'd really rather you focus on your magical studies."

Godia replied, "it's... well, it's more about the other things I learn working with you. The little ways to tell when people aren't quite paying attention, the ways of slipping away from trouble... I don't think any magical tome can teach me that."

Her father's smile returned and he said, "good to know you've got the right attitude about these lessons. So, how's the spell-casting coming?" Godia replied with a wave of her hands and a few magical words; a blue butterfly flew from her hands, and landed on her father's nose. He chuckled and said, "why, I can even feel it tickling me with its little feet!"

The butterfly flew back to Godia, and its colors enveloped the dream. Everything faded but the butterfly, which swirled, becoming a girl, a pretty young lady in blue, with blonde hair. She smiled, and kissed Godia, a nervous peck on the lips, and Godia felt a warmth in her heart she'd never felt before. The moment seemed to last forever. But then it vanished, and Godia saw the girl from a distance, passionately kissing a boy... "me and you," she told Godia, "it was just a little fun, nothing serious, just a little laugh..." The scene melted, washed away by Godia's tears.

She was standing before her father now, nervously staring at his shoes. She said, cautiously, "I... have a... I need to tell you something."

"Tell me what's on your mind, Godia, and know I'll always love you."

"I..." she struggled to find the words, "I... like girls... in a way most girls like boys..." she finally said. She looked up at her father's face; he still smiled, unfazed by the news.

He nodded and said, "I have a confession as well. I accidentally stumbled on your, uh, artwork collection a month ago." Godia went red with embarrassment, but her father continued, "but I figured you'd tell me when you were ready, so I decided not to push the issue. I'm glad you were honest with me. Still, best be careful; not everyone is as tolerant as an old thief like me."

She was at the Skysea Academy now, slipping through the library of arcane lore. The forbidden section was up ahead. She daintily hopped over the magical ward, as her father had taught her, and listened. She heard the golem that patrolled the area, and slid out of its view. In this way, she navigated the forbidden section, dodging her teachers and the patrols with the deft skill of an expert. She'd avoided the rookie mistakes other students had made; the wards would have picked up an invisibility cloak or spell. But the simple artwork of a trained thief was something the Academy had never planned for.

She found it. A tome, its cover marked with a great eye inscribed in a triangle. The Book of Many Worlds, written by the mighty Azog, the alien god of secrets. To any other it was a dangerous magical tome. But before she opened it, Godia knew what needed to be done. She knelt, and whispered, "oh mighty Azog, I have served you all my life. Grant me your holy mercy, and allow me your secrets." She felt a warmth come over her, and opened the book, and read of the Secret of Many Worlds.

She was a woman now, a young adventurer, a mercenary dealing with noble's troubles. But she was at the border between Yoth's territory and Azalas on her own business. She felt the power coursing beneath her feet. The Secret of Many Worlds, the stitching that tied these worlds together. Through many nights of studying the Book of Many Worlds, she had learned how to sense this stitching, and the many things one could do with it. A wise mage could speak to the dead through it, if the dead wished to speak to them, for it was connected to the heart of the worlds at Alleantis. A crafty mage could slip messages through it, allowing instant communication across the world. You could hear the tales of far away worlds in the stitching, of the places from whence the fragments of this one came, if you so chose. You could even sense new worlds being added to this one, if you knew where to search. And some mages, mighty, dangerous mages, could draw upon this power, though to do so was a destructive act that would drain the very world's life force. She had no interest in any of these tricks, however. Not at this moment. To simply feel the world's heartbeat, to gaze upon such power and majesty, that was enough. She fell into that tranquil beauty, and into a dreamless sleep.

edited 11th Mar '11 8:17:30 AM by KillerClowns

(Cool. I accidentally deleted my entry -_-)

For future reference, Lazarus is a wonderful thing for dealing with that sort of Fun. And if you don't have Firefox, I hereby decree you a heretic.

edited 10th Mar '11 6:45:33 PM by KillerClowns

(OOC: Decided to do some more writing; I'm also sort of making it up as I go along. Awesome use of the combined worlds part, Killer Clowns; that's probably not something I could've come up with.)

Getting tortured by demons and having two-inch-long spikes stuck in your arm that couldn't come out may suck, but it also had its perks. Slightly accelerated healing, for instance. Jonathan still would've been knocked out, had it not been for that. As far as he could tell, he was being carried through some building. His captors thought he was still unconscious, so he did his best to remain limp. He wondered why he was alive anyway; they normally would have killed him.

He tried to see where he was being carried, but it was hard for him to focus on anything. Stupid hangover, he thought. He briefly caught a glimpse of the Madrigal skyline through a window, and from the position of the sun and Hysanith Tower, he figured he was in the southern part of the city. That made sense; the Encato had plenty of hideouts and bases there. The height they were at - just above most of the buildings between them and Hysanith Tower - made it likely that they were in one of the old facilities formerly used for either testing experimental weapons or creating new magic.

He was eventually thrown into a cell. He did his best to keep up his unconscious act. It seemed to be working; his carriers were arguing about something.

"What I don't get," said one, "is why we don't just kill him and be done. He's been nothing but a pain in the ass since he arrived here, especially 'cause he's the type that refuses bribes. You know what happened when Novikov attem-"

"I know about Novikov," said the second. "I don't get it either, but the Doge apparently has big plans for him."

"Big plans? Like what? The MCCU isn't quite done yet, so we can't test it out on him..."

"Don't ask me, and don't question the Doge. We need to keep him alive, and that's final. Maybe they'll extract his memories and implant them in someone."

"Oh, joy. That's always pleasant."

"Maybe, but you saw what he did on the highway several weeks ago, right? If we can do that..." Their voices trailed off as they walked away.

Jonathan groaned and sat up, rubbing his head. The room looked like an old storeroom. Unfortunately, the bad guys had seen enough TV to know that locking someone in a room filled with plenty of stuff he could use to break out with might not be the best idea, so everything was gone except for a cot, a plate of food, and a cup of water. He checked the plate. No bacon sandwiches. "Crap."

There was a window in one wall; it had iron bars mounted on it, of course, and was probably magically reinforced in some way, but it allowed Jonathan to see out over the city. It was on the edge, so he couldn't see much, but what he saw confirmed that he was in the southern part of Madrigal.

With nothing else left to do, he sat down on the cot and started thinking about possible ways to escape.

edited 10th Mar '11 8:21:10 PM by TeraChimera

(OOC: I'm still waiting on more life in this thread before continuing my plot. But I've got a knack for writing Fictional Documents, and couldn't resist toying a bit with the aforementioned Azog, the "god" Godia worships. Maybe this will be a pointless non-sequitur, notable only for how much I enjoyed writing it, or maybe someone else will pick up this curiosity and take a bit of it to their own chunk of this world. I'm hoping for the latter, but it's all up to the Troper Hive Mind now.)

[Excerpts from the Book of Azog]

Where Darkness and Light meet, there is Azog. Azog lays within the Depths, and the secrets of Water belong to Azog. Azog hears the Hidden Song of the Planet, and the secrets of Stone belong to Azog. Azog sees the light of the Distant Stars, and the secrets of Air belong to Azog. Azog feels the Molten Pulse of the Planet, and the secrets of Fire belong to Azog. Azog knows all. [The opening lines of the Book of Azog]

Secrets are not deception. So long as those given thought seek to control others, secrets must be. The little secrets of lovers, and the hidden plots of righteous revolutionaries, Azog protects these. But not all secrets are sacred; the wicked schemes of the tyrant, the dark plots of the murderer, Azog reveals these.

Day must have its Night, Night must have its Day. Azog is Darkness, Azog is Light. Azog will shine Light when Azog must, and cloak in Darkness what must be left silent. Not all are ready for the deepest of Azog's secrets, though in service to Azog, they can prepare themselves.

Azog requires not belief. Azog requires not worship. Azog requires not sacrifice. Azog will endure. Azog has endured. Azog does not cower beyond the mortal realm. Azog lays beneath the very oceans of the Planet. Azog is flesh and blood. Azog eats, as a mortal eats, though he feeds not upon flesh and plant. At the floor of the deepest oceans, Stone splits, and Fire meets Water. Here lies Azog, feeding upon the nourishment of Fire and Water, and listening to the heartbeat of the Planet. If none worship Azog, Azog will still listen. Azog will still speak, when the time is right. Azog is eternal.

...and so the White Knight was brought to the Deep Library. And the Knight said unto Azog: "you have no power over me, creature of darkness! My heart is pure! My word, thought, and deed match! I have my crimes, but for each, I have paid my penance! I have no secrets!" And what the Knight claimed was true. The Knight had no secrets. But Azog said to the Knight, "what then, of your Lady? What then, of your King?" The Knight said to Azog, "my Lady has no secrets, but the woman's secrets, and I hardly fear those! And I trust my noble King, for if he wishes to keep secrets, it is for the good of my Nation!" Azog told the White Knight then, of the dark secrets his Lady and his King had been hatching, to destroy the nation... and also of the passionate nights they had held together, while the White Knight fought for their safety. And the White Knight saw what Azog said was true. And the White Knight fell to his knees, and forevermore worshiped Azog.

...and the Arcanist entered the Deep Library, in defiance of Azog. And the Arcanist said unto Azog: "you are weak, you who claims godhood! You could rule this world! And yet you sit beneath the waves, protecting idiotic young lovers! Know this, Azog, false god, that when I know all the secrets of your Deep Library, I shall become ruler of all reality! You can do nothing to stop me! Now give me your secrets!" So Azog gave the Arcanist all the secrets Azog held. And the Arcanist knelt. The Arcanist wept. The Arcanist begged Azog for ignorance. The Arcanist begged Azog for the sweet caress of oblivion. So Azog, ever merciful, tore the secrets from the Arcanist's mind, and placed the Arcanist in a simple village. And for the rest of his days, the Arcanist used magic to tend the sick and help the farmers, and never again did he challenge Azog.

...and the Thief entered the Deep Library, and he was silent as a mouse. The Thief, with fingers of shadow, stole a single tome from Azog's library. This done, the Thief left, confident that he held a secret Azog did not. And the Thief opened the book, and saw his name. And the Thief smiled, and said unto Azog, "you are worthy. I shall deal with you, oh clever one, but know that I am not a sheep to be prodded into the slaughterhouse." Azog heard the words of the Thief, and they were wise, for the Thief knew the nature of gods. Azog agreed, and from that day forth, all thieves, all scholars, and all wanderers, if they were of clever mind and pure heart, could call upon Azog, and Azog would answer, and deal with them as fellow travelers upon the same path, as they deserved.

edited 12th Mar '11 9:47:44 AM by KillerClowns