Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Fist
There was a gathering of a strange light near the others. An otherworldly force that one instinctually knows to make up the blank slate of what one calls a soul before its imprinted with consciousness. It flowed and folded around itself into a spehere, glowing brighter by the second, rending apart space around it, exploding outwards. A woman, with silvery hair, wearing very ornate steel armor seemed to fall out, landing face. Next to her, a golden sword embedded with red jewels stuck into the ground tip first. She worked up the strenght to bring up her arms and push herself out of the dirt.
"Ugh...." Looking around at the others she almost opened her mouth to ask where she was, but that question was answered in a timely manner. Looking at the Locksmith she only had one question now. "I see....sir? Could you please describe the first key?"
PM box is Closed, Indefinitely Friend Code: 3368-4181-6850
(Avatar by Coffee)
The last thing Theron remembered was the weight of Brutus' head on his lap. He certainly did not expect to wake up in a place that was definitely not the road leading away from Denerim. Instead of his Mabari wardog, he was in the company of a multitude of different people; a quick count placed them at roughly a score.
With a sigh he got up. He listened patiently to the old man's explanation, his hands crossed, and scanned the others present in the meantime. There was some sort of blue-coloured golem present, a collection of more bizarre suits of armour than he had ever seen and two skeletons that did not look like any sort of Demon-possessed corpse. The person who got his immediate attention, though, was an elf — with Dalish tattoos and the garb of a mage, no less!
With purpose he strode toward her. "Aneth ara, falon," he called and inclined his head.
The voice of thy brother's blood crieth unto me from the ground
It was a blisteringly hot day in this canyon, one where the sun burnt brighter than ever and bore down on everyone below it. Though, in this case, there were only 7 living things around to feel its light. One of which was an odd creature named Ro-Man. He trundled along as fast as his legs could take him, scouring the landscape in search of the other 6. It was his duty, his only goal in life, to kill them and be the last living thing on this planet. There were snags in the plans, ones not outright fixable by just one Ro-man, but as Great Guidance wills it, it would have to be done.
...Or, eventually be done. Without so much as a flash, a fainting spell, or a cut to black, the scenery changed to something completely different. Before him were about seven times the amount of people that were supposed to be left on Earth, which was something that should be immediately fixed. He raised his hands, the scenery briefly flashing negative with a loud buzz as his capacitors charged, ready to kill them all before questions could be asked, when he realized something was massively off.
Non-hu-mans. Both some different from slight outward hints of a different physiology, some nothing alike...and, more importantly, mechanical life. Not only were hu-mans supposed to be the only sentient life in the galaxy left, they weren't supposed to have developed any artificial intelligence more advanced than a basic calculation device!
This would cause nothing more than a complete change in mission plans. One of the hu-mans, appearing to be at the end of his lifespan, began to speak. The words that came out of his mouth were clearly spoken, audible, and all were part of a known language...but he didn't understand what was being said here. Being the kind of Ro-man that he is, Ro-Man tried to clear his own confusion without processing the information further by asking questions of his own.
"Hu-Man, answer me this: This structure does not resemble any extant building on the planet Earth. Where is this Tower located, and how have you managed to transport me here?"
Fear me
Foggy Swamp
-The waterbenders of the Foggy Swamp tribe advanced slowly, straining to catch sight of the horrible creature that took delight in tormenting them. So intent were they on the danger lurking behind every vine that they didn't notice the mud around their boats trembling until it rose up into a wall. Screams filled the air as their boats capsized and overturned, followed by vicious cackling seemingly from within a mudbank. Grabbing onto their boats, the tribesmen fled the area as fast as they could bend the currents, leaving their leafy hats in their haste.-
-Toph Beifong, the terror of the Foggy Swamp, removed the mud from her hair and clothes with a gesture, then fell backwards, a couch of solid rock pulling up beneath her. It was a nice day, and as good a place as any for a nap, with the sounds of the swamp's inhabitants lulling her to sleep.-
The Tower
-As soon as Toph awakens, she feels something is very wrong. Gone is the humidity and smell of the swamp, replaced by cold dampness and dozens of confused heartbeats all around her. Getting up, she slams a foot on the ground, and feels nothing but a vast expanse of stone, along with some strange textures near the doorways.-
-As Toph readies to stamp again, unsure of what is going, a man -old, by the sound of it- starts talking, explaining about the Tower and why they are here. Toph's shoulders' sag forward.-
Not this again...
Glory to Arachnos
"Well. This is lovely."
Scorch rubbed the back of his head as he started to wake up. The last thing he remembered was sleeping in the quarters of a CR 25 troop carrier sending him and his squad mates to a mission to the RAS Prosecutor...and then instead he found himself right in the ground, along with a very varied group of people and alien species, too.
That, and his squad seemed to have disappeared too. Any attempt to uplink with his squadmates and contact them was met with a message from his helmet's HUD saying SQUAD UNAVAILABLE..
Well blast. He was truly alone for this one...except for this motley group of people.
"Oh sithspit, I have to climb all the way up just to return with my squad? This is going to take forever." Scorch grumbled at the situation as he facepalmed, he just hoped this won't take long at all...he wouldn't want to worry his brothers about his disappearance.
-Spider Lizard Noises-
For the Horde!
Ben had taken a nap in the Rust Bucket before he had woken up in this bizarre area. He did not know where exactly he was, but hopefully he would find out soon. He was getting worried. "Grandpa? Gwen?" Ben called, looking around for the others. He made his way to the man who was explaining their surroundings. He raised an eyebrow.
"Really? Yeah right! This is some sorta trick!" Ben shouted. "You tell me how we get home right now!" At this, he glared at the Locksmith, readying his Omnitrix and preparing to choose an alien. Then he looked around at everyone surrounding him. It seemed like he wasn't the only one who had been snatched from his home...
Sheepishly, he lowered his hand and frowned, still not looking too pleased with his current situation.
I can still hail the Horde even though the company has shamed us. Strength and Honor even if Blizzard has neither.
"And just what is the meaning of this?" came a cry from somewhere behind the rapidly growing mob. The 25-foot tall mechanoid life-form that had materialized behind the rest of the group fumbled for his gun... and realized that he was without a firearm. "What do you think you're doing, dragging an Autobot officer off duty without warning?"
Ultra Magnus - Lost Light crewmember and fomer duly appointed enforcer of the Tyrest Accord - was not in a particularly good mood. One second he had been in his cramped quarters, touching up his old armor, and the next... well, he was somewhere else entirely.
"An unauthorized use of Cybertronian quantum technology?" he barked at the old man as he tried to find his bearings in this gigantic hallway. Stone construction - no sign of any advanced Cybertronian alloys. Then, the portal, a swirling mass and that looked uncannily like the old Space Bridges of the Metrotitans. And on top of all of that, he was surrounded by organics, scurrying around his feet like a group of particularly hyperactive toddlers.
Wherever he had gone, he was very, very far away from the Lost Light.
"And using that energy to abduct helpless organics? There are a million ordinances surrounding the governance of transwarp space that you are in violation of at this very moment..." Ultra Magnus jabbed one massive finger at the old man. "Forget the Tyrest Accord - I could bring you straight to the Galactic Council right this..." He trailed off as he caught the end of the old man's speech. Ah yes, the old "I-can-give-you-your-Spark's-desire-if-you-just-play-my-game." God only knew how many times various criminals and lowlifes had tried to pull that one on him.
Still, few of the old wartime criminals were clever enough to actually yank a full-sized Cybertronian across who knew how many billions of miles of space without warning. The Autobot looked around at the other organics and semi-organics yelling their own greetings, threats, accusations, demands, and tried to figure out just what he was getting himself into...
Human female. Armed with primitive pole weapon corresponding to Earth region known as Japan. Risk of future criminal activity: UNKNOWN
Human female wielding sword. Appears willing to play along with captor. Armor of unknown make and composition. Risk of future criminal activity: UNLIKELY
Human male dressed anachronically. Speaks in unknown language that does not correspond to any known species. ERROR: internal translator logarithms require larger language sample. Risk of future criminal activity: UNKNOWN
Cybernetically augmented anthropoid. Appears to incorporate genetic structure of Earth lifeform: gorilla beringei graueri. Speech patterns appear stilted - problems with internal database? Risk of future criminal activity: VARIABLE
Elderly human female. Retinal scans appear to indicate optical defects. Risk of future criminal activity: LOW
Adult male human wearing advanced military uniform. ERROR: Inconsistent with any known human military. Alert: appears to have a sense of humor. Risk of future criminal activity: VARIABLE
Pre-adolescent human male. Anomalous energy emitting from wrist-mounted device. Device does not correspond to the technological library of any known species. Appears to be hotheaded and rash. Risk of future criminal activity: VARIABLE
Ultra Magnus blinked, and ran one massive hand across his face.
"Very well. Tell us more about these keys." Perhaps when this was all over, he'd get the chance to throw this criminal straight to the Galactic Council. And today was supposed to have been an easy day.
edited 3rd Jul '16 3:37:11 PM by Locoman
This isn't the first time she's fallen asleep and woken up somewhere else; there was the time she took a nap in the back of a merchant's cart, for example, or the time she dozed off while soaking in the shallows of the Toad God's pond. The current had carried her for a good few minutes before she stirred, and she'd had to sneak her way back to where she'd left her clothes. Fortunately, the fairies hadn't found them. She knew that because they were still right where she'd left them.
Koishi is pretty sure the house she was secretly occupying hadn't been anywhere near a big tower like this; she'd have seen it. You just can't hide something like this. Maybe someone picked up her futon and carried her all the way here. But then where's the futon? And why hadn't she felt them carrying her away? Koishi's pretty sure that isn't what happened.
She's still feeling a little sleepy, so she rubs at her eyes with the tip of her finger. Her minty green hair is slightly mussed, so she tries to smooth it down a bit and get it back to its usual wavy state. Her wide-brimmed sunhat is dusted off and plopped back onto her head, now that it's not being used to keep the sunrise from waking her up. The thought that a sunrise might have woken her up sooner and thus kept her from being taken here never crosses Koishi's mind.
Dressed in canary yellow, emerald green, and ruffles, Koishi situates herself near the back of the gathered crowd and tries to peer over some of the taller individuals; without flying, it isn't going to work, but the alternative is putting herself in the middle of this big group of people, and that sounds way too noisy and crowded. She probably wouldn't like it.
Koishi does spot at least one familiar face, however: That shrine maiden, Reimu...Reimuuuuu...Reimu Whatshername. She's passed by the shrine enough times to know who lives there. She even threw a bit of money into the box once or twice. It wasn't her money, but she's pretty sure no one ever saw her take it, and Reimu always seemed happy whenever she found a little something extra in the offering box. Now if only Koishi could remember her last name, she could address her properly and call out to her. She thinks about it a little longer while some other people ask their questions.
She's got some questions of her own, actually, so since she isn't getting anywhere trying to remember Reimu's last name, Koishi wiggles and maneuvers her way through the group and towards the front, stepping on as few feet as possible.
"Um, hi!" Koishi chirps, smiling enough to show the Locksmith her pearly whites. "Once we're done exploring, how far is it back to Gensokyo from here? My sister's probably gonna worry if I'm gone for too long, so I've been meaning to visit her, and I don't want to put that off. She's a big ol' w-worrywart, you know!" There's a tiny stutter in her voice that doesn't even break her stride, but nevertheless interrupts her question, which is really more explanation than inquiry.
Koishi still doesn't remember Reimu's last name, so she waves cheerily at her through the crowd, but doesn't address her by name just yet. Koishi will keep this up as long as she needs to in order to avoid the awkward hell that is asking someone to remind you of their name.
edited 3rd Jul '16 3:18:21 PM by DoctorThunder
Witchcraft!
A woman kneels amidst the eclectic variety of lost exiles from across countless worlds. On another day, it might have been them her attention focused on. Today, though...
This... should not have been. As last she remembered, she had been drifting in and out of consciousness, held prisoner in her own dungeons, though not for long - it would have been but a few hours before she passed death's door. Now, she was here, unwounded. Not yet on her feet, but neither lying, dying, on a cold stone floor. Her armor was as pristine as her body. And, clutched tightly in her hands, as if by letting go she would be swept away, was Hauteclere. This very much should not have been. She should be dead. Why this? Why this rescue she neither deserved nor desired?
A piercing cry behind her snapped her out of her reverie. She recognized that sound. Slowly, unsteadily, she got to her feet and turned to look. Yes, just as she'd expected. She hadn't had much cause to smile of late, but now her face nearly split in two as she wrapped her arms around the wyvern. "Milady," she whispered. Her erstwhile companion had been taken from her after her capture by Rucke, but now Milady had been returned to her.
She stood there like that, embracing her wyvern, as the old man - the Locksmith - explained what had happened to her - and all the others who had gathered here. For a moment, the thought of never returning home crossed her mind. After all, she had failed. Failed her duties, failed her people. Perhaps it would've been better had she been left to die.
But no. Maria was still lost. She had to return. At least until her beloved little sister was saved. Then, she might well disappear forever.
In one graceful motion, Minerva swung herself around and on top of her wyvern, and now was astride Milady's back. Hauteclere was gripped in her hands, ready to cut down any fool who stood in her way.
"Very well. Locksmith, tell us now what we seek, and we shall go to retrieve it."
edited 3rd Jul '16 3:27:03 PM by RhymeAndTreason
All of these eccentric and aberrant beings, from dimensions far and wide, untold utterly beyond all humanoid comprehension, were gathered around the tower. A mishmash, a collage, a hybridization of beings!
And amongst them was a man, in a garish red outfit, face down on the ground, in a bit of pain.
But too much, apparently, seeing as he gets up rather quickly, with an incredibly, puzzled look on his face. "... By the Light, I've been had!" He yelled out loud. "That must not have been the illustrious blade I found! For it has warped me to a perplexing world of stone!" He cried out, in a dramatic sense, seemingly to himself. Eventually though, he settled down somewhat, and turned to the old man. "... The key could be a sword?" The key out. The key out could be anything... like the blade he sought! "Aha! The key to the tower must be that blade!" He said, seeming to miss the point that the key could be anything. And that there were more than one key.
And then there was silence
nagisad
Canonical Location in the Warcraft Universe I Doubt Most Of You Give A Shit About
The tapestry of wood crunched slightly underhand. Jaina exhaled a quarter breath in dull surprise. Few of the trees in the marsh were especially quality timber, to be fair. But even by that standard this felt pretty lousy. She didn't think stepping on a door frame was in any circumstance, ideal or otherwise, supposed to feel like squashing a particularly juicy and fat bug.
She closed her eyes for a moment. The heat spit from the crinkled leather bellows was a bit much, she could feel the first wicks of sweat beginning to melt from her skin.
"Do you know who developed the design for this building is, foreman? I'm thinking it could stand to be improved when there are resources to spare."
The Place We Do Give A Shit About
There was a lag, a delay. Jaina opened her eyes, the familiar dredge of exhausted irritation sluicing from her thoughts. Just a bit. Her people were trying their best, and she couldn't fault them for-
Not even being there, apparently.
Whoever- whatever also seemed an appropriate word here for some of the gathered- she was among they were collectively an unfamiliar face too many. Her eye flickered about quickly, then shied away. She hadn't seen all the details, but when the broader picture already left so many vittles for the thought process... Vast suits, statues of humanoid armor; talking alabaster men with one apparent eye, what she swore was a 'gorilla' from her abstracted knowledge of fauna, the elderly, the impossibly young. Jaina wasn't going to question any of it. She'd honestly already seen stranger in her lifetime.
They all spoke, a multi-octave cacophony composed by disparate bits of flesh and bone. A memory blossomed in her mind, it's spring following the dead of winter. She a child, her father and his associates bickering over ancient wines and equally ancient maps. Yes, a gathering this large with this many entities who she already had the hunch were universally not beholden to one another, it would come to resemble a political convene quickly! Jaina felt pretty safe in assuming that one.
She tried to wait out the storm of discourse, the choral tempest, but it didn't seem to be ending any time soon. Who know which of the questions would even see answer and which would fall into the sands of time, miscarried upon inception? Jaina also blithely foresaw repeat questions.
There was a lull, only she doubted it wouldn't bleed into the next question from some other colorfully diverse soul the moment she took it. She tried anyways:
"Erm, Locksmith is it? May I ask how will the passage of time in this world contrast to the passage of time in our world of origin?" Different dimensions she wasn't especially shocked by. She'd proven the existence of at least a few of those for her second year thesis. What mattered now was fleshing it out. The details. Her research had never carried her quite this far, and frankly she'd never wanted it to.
Kitkat Kitkat / He's our man / If any one screws up / He sure can -Imca
The sun was setting, a full day of riding had taken them away from Philadelphia and closer to New Jersey. Despite Johnny's urgent warnings, Gyro had determined that they needed to stop for the night. "You know that bastard is just going to keep getting further away from us." Johnny Joestar warned, already laying on his sleeping bag.
Gyro was spinning one of his steel balls on the tip of his finger idly, probably trying to keep himself occupied and distracted. "Seriously Johnny, you need to relax a little. We'll catch him, and when we do I'll make sure he won't be able to grin that smug grin of his for a while." the Zeppeli tried to reassure his friend, and also probably himself. If anything, Johnny knew that Gyro hated him almost more than Johnny did.
The young Joestar let out a sigh as he rolled over on to his back, staring up at the stars. The campfire faded as he thought about Valentine making off with most of the Corpse Parts, along with Diego slipping through their fingers. They had two enemies that they knew to worry about, and an unknown number of assassins most likely waiting for them. This journey of theirs across America was long and hard, but Johnny had no doubts in his mind that he was on the right path. As he slowly slipped off to sleep, the jockey tried to contemplate what the president was planning.
Johnny awoke, not to the sight of a bright blue sky like he had expected, but to the cold grey of stone surrounding him. The jockey pushed himself into a sitting position, eyes wide in confusion as he looked around. He was far from the only person in the room, there was a crowd of people and things crammed into this mysterious room. If any of them were the cause of this, they were doing a good job of pretending to be confused as well. Maybe they were all in on it? If this wast he work of one of Valentine's assassins, they weren't very smart. They could have just killed Johnny in his sleep.
Then he noticed two more things. One was that Gyro was missing, and the other was the panicked state of his horse, Slow Dancer. Whatever was doing this had been generous enough to bring her along with her, and the old girl was huffing and stomping up a storm. Johnny raised a hand to his horse and let out a quick and sharp whistle to get her attention. Almost instinctively, the obstinate creature lowered her head down to her rider. The jockey put an arm over her neck to allow him to lean into her as he pet her with his other hand. This seemed to have its intended effect as the horse's breathing slowed once more and it calmed down.
Once his mount had been calmed, Johnny was able to overhear the old man's story. It was an incredibly hard to believe story of keys and climbing the tower they were apparently in. If this was some assassin attack, it was really convoluted and nonsense. Maybe he should just play along. From his spot on the ground, Johnny spoke up. "Since you've been doing this for eternity apparently, can't you just tell us exactly where these keys are so we can get back to what we were doing?" the jockey demanded.
The Mighty Pen
It was dangerous for Kashira to be alone, particularly today, particularly here. It was late autumn in the Frostback Mountains and already, heavy snows blanketed the rocky slopes. The ruins of Haven, little more than heaps of fire-blackened stone and rotting wood in most places, pierced the snow around her like the tombs that they were. Her little campfire made the shadows dance and the ruins come alive with a sinister red-gold light. Above, the starry sky shimmered with the brilliant aurora australis, the southern lights, a scar in the sky left behind by her and her greatest enemy. She heard the distant, mournful howl of a wolf pack and the darkness grew deeper, settling more heavily upon her. It was time to go to sleep. That was what she came here for, even as she dreaded its approach. This was where they first met, this was the anniversary of the day she woke up to find the Breach tearing apart the sky. Although she was only a child compared to the ancients in fade-walking, she knew something of it now. If she was going to dream of what she wished to, it would be here and now. But the Veil was still thin and Kashira knew what she got like when she dwelled on such things. She was taking a great risk with no real hope of reward. Her friends had tried to talk her out of it, with good reason. She had finally come up with the words in elven to describe it. As she closed her eyes for the night, that was the last thing on her mind. Asha'bellabelas...the Woman of Many Sorrows. That was when she wished for a way to mend her life as she had mended the sky. Later, she would have cause to deeply regret it.
Kashira awoke and knew at once something was very wrong. She was armed and armored when she certainly hadn't gone to sleep that way. She lay on a bare stone floor and looked up at the high ceiling of some great hall. Scrambling to her feet, she felt her mark flare with power of its own accord, tendrils of fire burning their way up her arm and making her bite back a yelp of pain. It ceased soon enough as she squeezed that hand into a fist. Then she noticed she was not alone. And this was not the Fade.
She hesitated, unsure who to speak to first. Then the elderly human standing before the great crowd began to speak. Kashira listened, and found that she was, strangely enough, relieved. All the half-crises and diplomatic entanglements and minor skirmishes of the past year were forgotten as her old resolve came rushing back, as strong as ever. Where she was, she did not know. The master of this place was clearly something beyond even her experience. Perhaps she was in the Fade and simply didn't know it. Whatever the case, this was a challenge she was capable of meeting. It was no different than how the Inquisition had begun. I can do this.
As she mulled over her thoughts, deciding what questions she might pose of this Locksmith, she heard something else unexpected. Words in elven, and her heart skipped a beat. Is that...? But no, she turned to see an unfamiliar Dalish elf making his way towards her. He calls me friend, at least. She pushed back her disappointment. She was less alone than she had thought. Even one other person here from Thedas was welome. She walked forward to meet him halfway, sliding through the crowd.
"Ma serennas, lethallin," she said, a broad smile curving across her face as she bowed slightly. "Andaran atish'an." Then, switching back to the human Common Tongue. "Give me a moment, if you would. I'm glad to see another of the People, though I'm sorry that you were taken to this place. I have some questions for our guide."
She turned back towards the Locksmith.
"My thanks for your courtesy and my sympathies for your curse. I do have questions. You speak of other worlds. I had thought there was only one. What do you mean by that? Also, how many others have come before us? If they claimed such great rewards, why have we not heard of them? You give us little room for trust here, can you offer proof of what you say? And yes, I'm also curious about the passage of time in the...worlds we've all left."
A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent upon arriving. -Lao Tzu
Hinterlands of Dravania, if you happen to know where that is
Why had he decided to take this quest?
It wasn't that it was particularly difficult. After a dozen Primals and several dragons of the First Brood, little could be said to be difficult for the Warrior of Light. But Morbol
breath was not something anyone enjoyed being around too much, and Jeyrr tried to kill the disgusting things as quickly as he could on those occasions where he couldn't simply avoid them entirely. Capturing a live one, just because some fool knight thought he could tame it as a steed, certainly ranked somewhere in the top ten most disgusting things he'd ever done. Funnily enough, that list happened to be filled with Morbols.
Still. Do thing, get reward. That was a quest, and he understood quests. Although as Titan-Egi took a faceful of Bad Breath, highly limiting it's usefulness, Jeyrr considered that maybe he was being underpaid for this one. The Morbol turned from it's incapacitated aggressor, turning towards the Lalafell that had been pelting it with painful spells and inhaling. Jeyrr cursed and quickly started running in the other direction. As he ran he sent a bolt of Aether down the link to his Egi, hopefully getting it back into fighting shape for a surprise attack. The Morbol exhaled, spreading a horrendous green gas everywhere in front of it. Thankfully, Jeyrr wasn't affected; he'd gotten far enough away that only the smell remained from the dissipated chemical weapon.
Titan-Egi chose this moment to give the giant... thing another punch. It roared, and as it turned Jeyrr took the opportunity. He cast Tri-Bind to stop it mid-turn, leaving it's terrible mouth pointed at no one, and followed up by inducing his own chemical weapons to Fester. It began to sag, and Titan-Egi sealed the deal by flying up and aiming a punch into it's brainpan. Jeyrr exhaled, the battle over. Easier than I thought. Only transportation was left. He placed one hand on the Morbol (through a glove he'd stitched together earlier just for this task, and intended to burn after he was done), Jeyrr focused on the agreed meeting point, and Teleported.
The Tower, Floor 1
When he re-emerged, his captured Morbol was nowhere to be seen. This was probably for the best. The last thing the confused gathering needed was a malevolent betentacled plant monster stinking up the place. Although traces of the scent still lingered on Jeyrr himself.
The first thing he did after arriving was look around. Titan-Egi's golden glow
◊ was easily seen, as was the aura of earth-aspected Aether emanating from it. Satisfied that he wouldn't be completely helpless if things turned nasty, Jeyrr listened to the Locksmith's explanation. His only response to it was to wordlessly nod.
Do thing, get reward. Though he hadn't agreed to this one, he understood quests. This also wasn't his first contact with other worlds; although this was the first time he had ever been in one, he'd met three beings from beyond Hydaelyn on various occasions. Speaking of which... A certain braggart in red caught his attention. Jeyrr smiled at the friendly face, and walked up to Gilgamesh.
"Greg!"
edited 3rd Jul '16 5:07:38 PM by Anura
A society grows great when old men plant trees whose shade they know they will never sit in.
sword of promised halp
There is a man leaning against the wall. He doesn't look particularly interested in any of the conversations going on, but he also has that disgruntled tilt of his head that indicates he's secretly paying full attention.
The reasons you should notice the man are firstly, that his arms are real ripped; secondly, that he has a sick white cloak draped over his neck, which falls down his back to his waist in tatters; thirdly, that under the cloak is a molded black breastplate and a pair of black pants; fourthly, that there is a very odd tint to him, what with his snow-white slicked-back hair, burnt brown skin, and amber eyes; and lastly, that he drips with a general air of long-suffering insolence.
"Well."
The man raises an eyebrow, eloquently conveying both his disgust with the situation and his decision to bear with it like a good little martyr. Then he drops it.
"Good questions, everyone. Very pertinent. But as much as I'd love to uncover the deep metaphysical questions of life, time, the universe, and ultimate being, I can't possibly think of any practical application for them."
He speaks in an unamused baritone, with resonances that pierce like a lemon-splashed knife.
"I, for one, think we should just put our heads down and do whatever this codger tells us to. Crown of the aged and all that."
He glances across at the boisterous red-haired man, who seems a trifle sword-touched. His mood visibly shakes its head and walks off a cliff.
edited 3rd Jul '16 5:21:51 PM by troydenite
'Being around you guys makes me go "wtf" instead of pondering the ever increasing dread of time' - EchoingSilence, 2023
"I'm calling shenanigans!"
The assembled people in the room would hear a voice yell somewhere from the back. Gaige started to make her way through the crowd as she walked up to the old man, hands on her hips in somewhat laughable, childish anger.
"Oh, trust me guys, this all sounds cool, a giant dungeon with random levels that has a giant stash of loot at the top. Ya, only I've done this before!" She paused long enough for one or two people to assume she was talking about having climbed the tower before, when she elaborated. "Ever heard of the Vault, guys? Giant treasure trove full of everything you ever wanted, money, power, chicks and dudes, and whatnot? Ya, I went and hunted one of those down. Guess what, spoiler alert, all it had was an ugly alien warrior in it and a bunch of lava. No cash, no guns, no nothing! So you!" She pointed a metal finger from her metal arm at the Gatekeeper. "Why should I believe a word you're saying? You're just trying to trick us into killing some other big ass alien because you're too lazy to do it yourself, aren't you?"
Lizard Metabolism
All These Naked Apes All Around
"As much as the attitude of that whitehaired lad rubs me the wrong way, he's right." An older, slightly stern voice moved from the back of the chamber and closer to the Locksmith, its owner in distinct pirate garb.
Really however, considering his catty disposition - literally and metaphorically speaking, of course - he would stand out even amongst other strange creatures around; like the big machine or something only vaguely resembling a gorilla. Of course, to Nathaniel J. Claw, being surrounded by what he could only describe as naked apes was already a mildly unusual experience.
He listened briefly to the red-haired girl's rant about vaults and aliens. "If that old fellow wanted to do away with something dangerous, no such trial would be needed." He scoffed. "Cannot say I like being forced to play to his whim, but for now it's the only shot we have to go back."
edited 3rd Jul '16 6:08:40 PM by FergardStratoavis
How do lizards fly?
"She's right, how do we know this isn't some sort of trick?"
Jousuke Higashikata stepped up beside the girl with the pigtails and the metal arm, giving the frail old man a suspicious glare with his arms folded across his chest. The teenager may have looked calm, but inside he was on high alert, his eyes occasionally flicking around the assembled crowd.
This has got to be some sort of enemy stand, right? He'd heard about stands like this from Jotaro, hadn't he? Ones that could make their own little closed-off dimension, so the user could play mind games or some bullshit. He wanted to believe that somewhere in this dingy room was a guy he could just smack and be done with it. The alternative - that the old man was telling the truth, that he'd been snatched up away from Morioh - was seriously freaking him out.
He turned to glance at the guy who'd just spoke - a talking cat? Seriously? "He could be stalling for time. Or maybe this is just how he gets his rocks off. You can't expect us to just take his word for it."
Benevolent Devilish Angel
"Akatsuki? Akatsuki, why are you staring at me like that? You look pale."
"My Lord... My Lord! You are disappearing! What's going on?"
"What? I'm..."
Shiroe trailed off, shocked at the Assassin's words. However, looking down at himself to realize she was right didn't ease his shock. Not only was he now confused beyond words, but his chest was nearly transparent now. He was so absorbed with this book of information, he hadn't even noticed!
"Hold on please! I will go find aid!"
Shiroe could only nod as she ran, before he lost consciousness.
Of course now, he officially knew that Akatsuki was too late with help. He was now standing in this strange tower. Shiroe frowned, knitting his brows out of confusion, as he processed what the old man was saying. He felt surrounded by everyone else at this moment though and was silent out of discomfort around this large crowd. Instead, the Enchanter-Scribe chose to take inventory of himself first. He was fully equipped still, with his wooden staff and his long white cloak. It also occurred to him that he was still in the form of his enchanter character from Log Horizon. That was, the game in which he had been stuck for...a year? He wasn't sure of how long anymore to be completely honest, since he was almost certain that the calendars between the two worlds didn't match up anyway.
Concerned, Shiroe acknowledged that his only way to get out of here was to climb this tower. That was obvious. What wasn't obvious, it seemed, was these keys and what they would look like. He was also uncertain of everyone else. Some of them looked human, some of them looked...otherworldly. He even had to question what he looked like to everyone else. No amount of being stuck in a video game world could have ever truly gotten him to prepare for all of this. In fact he wanted to know where this tower even was, because this clearly wasn't Earth either.
He would know after all, he had also lived in the real world before the Apocalypse.
"This...might be interesting..." he told himself quietly.
edited 3rd Jul '16 7:35:20 PM by angeloffluffiness
And in this heart, our bond cannot break. From here to the end and back again I will stand sharp. The light in me will guide you home...
Paranormal Activity VII
Meow?
As the Climbers started gathering at the entrance of the Tower, a strange catlike figure
wandered around the meeting place, shooting the would be Climber strange looks if they so happened to look down on him. The figure would look abck at them with pearl white eyes, before wiping itself with its paw and wandering off to look at another Climber. It purred, swung its tail curiously and tilted its head in confusion, as if to make sense of the strange new land that he stumbled upon. After a while, the figure wandered over to a spot at the far left corner of the Tower's entrance, and rubbed its nose onto the fingertips of a woman laying down. The woman opened her eyes groggily and saw the cat peer over her. While the face of the cat was expressionless, the woman read the cat's feelings in a heartbeat, and once she came too, she looked over at the place that they have woken up in.
"...Dusty...? Where are we?" the woman asked the cat as he climed onto the woman's shoulders. She then looked over at the people gathered, then the entranceway to the Tower, to upwards to the Tower itself. Kat looked onto the group of things with a bewildered look ecthed on her face.
"Wh-what?! How, who, where, what's happening here?" she said, looking onto the Tower. "How did we end up here....?" she asked with her eyes drifting to the Tower and to the group gathered. "And who are these people...? They don't look like anyone I've seen before..."
Your works are one trope short.
When Kid had taken the Skyway from the Bastion, he had been already expecting to come down on his face. No matter how many times he used it, or tried to fight it, he'd always just land the same way. By now, he'd just learned to go limp and wait for it. This time, though, there was something new. Voices.
His head snapped up, eyes wide at the idea of more survivors. People who had survived The Calamity. The sight before him quickly turned that hope into confusion. Pulling himself slowly to his feet, The Kid gently placed his hand on the handle of his machete. He didn't know who any of these people and... things were, but they hadn't been aggressive so far. A quick look over himself confirmed that he still had all his equipment, and so he made his way towards the group; pulling his scarf down to uncover his youthful, tanned face.
The old man's explanation was hard to believe, but he'd been having to learn to believe a lot of things lately. The only real way was forward from here, and he needed to get back to fix the Bastion. Then the Kid had a thought. "These treasures, could they... fix a broken world?"
huzzaaaaaaaah
The random assortment of questions and budding conflicts prompted someone in the back to laugh. Not just someone, but a slightly tall woman with short black hair and a sharp-looking complexion
◊ who was clearly having the time of her life. She laughed, louder than anyone, even going as far as to lean over and slap her knee, which was covered by the metal uniform she was wearing.
"Oh, this isn't a trick." Toph Beifong proclaimed loudly, crossing her arms and grinning. "And trust me. There's no way out of here except doing what we're being told to do. I'm saying this because..." She closed her milky white eyes and shrugged. "Let's just say I've done this already and I have plenty of experience in the matter. This Tower is the real deal, and all the treasures he's promising? The real deal too. And if this is just like last time..." She sighed. "Then we have a lot of worlds to go through."
Shaking her head, Toph scratched her nose. "But seeing as you guys need to get over this, well," She kicked with one of her bare feet as a stone throne popped out behind her, just as she fell into it with a light thump. "I'll be over here once you're ready to get on with it." She continued, still smiling to herself. Another one of these... seems like sometimes wishes do come true. She kept an eye on the new recruits, resting her cheek on her fist as her smile lost some of its luster. ... don't recognize any of these guys though... hope Sokka shows up...
She stopped once she felt a way too familiar heartbeat. Is that—
"WOAH!"
A sudden high-pitched yell from another newcomer snapped Toph out of it mid-realization. "I can't believe it! I recognize you!" A young boy with tanned skin and long, dark hair sporting what a kid might think armor looks like jumped out of the darkness, landing on one of the throne's arm rests. "It's just like my father told me— you've got the white eyes, the hair, you've even got the I'm the best at everything look!"
"Okay, I don't know who you are, kid, but—"
The boy slapped himself in the forehead. "Of course you don't know who I am. And you guys probably don't too!" He jumped off the throne, landed on one foot and bowed dramatically. "I'm Kacirand'r Young, son of Chase Young— although most people just call me Cassius!" He gave them a salute and a toothy grin. "Can't believe it, I'm going on my own multiversal adventure!"
edited 3rd Jul '16 8:11:24 PM by Stratofarius
Breath of the Sun
The armored figure stood silent amidst all those asking questions. She was just as confused as the rest at first, but quickly things pieced themselves together. Multiverse theory had always been just that in her universe - a theory. But it wasn't impossible, by any stretch, so she had no reason to doubt this.
So Samus Aran merely waited for their first mission, or rather their first 'key', standing at attention as any soldier would, her rhythmic breathing the only indication that she wasn't a machine. As she waited, she pondered. 'Everything you desire' was very vague, but if the being that brought them here was powerful enough to breach the barriers between realities, then she had no doubt that it could do things that lesser beings would consider miracles. Like raising the dead.
There was a chance she would see her parents again.
With that thought, determination blossomed within her. She would climb this tower, and she would return home. Then a thought occurred, and she stepped forward.
"I assume all the worlds we visit will be hospitable to organic life?" She asked, making sure to phrase the question such that it would include most of the people assembled there. Samus had visited worlds that were practically unsurvivable even with a suit like hers. The last thing they needed was everyone being crushed to death by ten times Earth gravity.
What is so amusing about this? Why do you take lives? How can you forget?
One Brunch Man
Things looked... bad.
To Rhy's right, past the circling ring of hovering death robots that enclosed the platform he was standing on with very large, very threatening guns, was a long, opaque glass window where he could see every iota of fear in his friend Vaughn's eyes due to the gun being held by Rhys's archrival and very very least favorite person in the world, Vasquez.
To Rhys’s left, Fiona started yelling something he couldn’t quite make out, what with the blaring alarms ringing through the space that had caused this mess in the first place, centered on the big metal sphere thing he and Fiona had assembled minutes ago. The female grifter was edging up on his second least favorite person in the world, what with the way she had so thoroughly and completely, if accidentally, ruined his life.
To Rhys’s… other left, was possibly the thing that made the least sense about the situation and his life now in general, in the form of a translucent blue hologram of his sort-of idol and the de facto leader of Rhys’s faceless mega corporation of choice, Hyperion. At least, Jack was the leader when he had had a real body, and wasn’t lodged in Rhys’s temporal cortex by malware created by an obsessed Jack fan. Still, sociopath or not, Jack got points for being the only thing in the room that wasn’t about to get him killed in one way or another.
Rhys was able to process all of this partially because he was busy gaping at his impending death like a fish, as his Echo Eye helpfully provided the gun barrel diameter of his new best friends and left him to extrapolate what kind of holes they’d leave in his torso. This quiet contemplation was cut off as Fiona stepped forward and grabbed the sphere from his unresisting hands, causing him to half-turn in complaint. “Wha—what’re you—”
“Trust me.” She said over her shoulder with a hell of a lot more confidence than he felt, and he took a step back in acquiescence. He watched dumbly as the grifter reached into a pocket and withdrew an object, brandishing it proudly for the people behind the glass to see. A... grenade?! “Back off!” She yelled, though whether to the men holding their friends hostage, the unthinking turret drones, or a little bit of both, Rhys couldn’t be sure.
“Whoa!” Jack said, adequately expressing Rhys’s own feelings. “Whoa whoa whoa, what’s she doing? This isn’t good. This is bad!” Before Rhys could voice a response, his heart stopped in place as he saw Vasquez yank Vaughn closer and press a gun barrel to his best friend’s head. “Rhys!” Jack yelled as Rhys took an involuntary step toward his endangered comrade, the hologram demanding the attention of the only thing that could hear him. “You gotta let me into your subsystems, man! I can hack into these drones, and I can…” He stuttered for a moment, as if struggling with how much truth the situation called for. “…almost guarantee that no one dies. You know, unless, you want them to. Probably. I—just, let me in!”
Rhys’s brow creased with indecision as the blaring alarms crescendo’d in the background. That barrel was really close to Vaughn’s head. If Vasquez’s finger slipped, how long would it take for the bullet to splatter Vaughn’s brains all over the ground? A millisecond? Two? “I…” As if listening in on his thoughts, Vaughn began struggling, Vasquez responding in kind by yanking him about to keep the gun flush. “Vaughn!”
“It’s under control Rhys, trust me.” Fiona said with an iron countenance, settling into a combat crouch.
“What? No, listen, we can take over the whoooole facility, kid.” Jack insisted from the other side, practically speaking right into Rhys’s ear. “We’ve got this.”
“I’ll do it! Back! Away!”
“She doesn’t even have a plan!”
But Jack was a sledgehammer. But Fiona was a scalpel. But Jack had a plan. But Fiona had gumption. But Fiona had screwed him over. But Jack had screwed him up.
Rhys turned.
“Whatever you’re going to do Fiona, do it.” He said with a nod.
“No no no no! You’re making a huge mistake!” Jack yelled, while Fiona’s features were colored by a faint smile.
The grifter stepped forward, hefting the weapon in her hand, as the various gun-wielding men behind the glass jostled in place. Fiona broke into a full-bore grin, and shrugged. “No one lives forever.” She pressed the button atop the grenade, and tossed it into the air.
Every eye within and without the room tracked the small device as it went airborne, watching it flip end over end with varying levels of dread and/or hope. The next few seconds would define the boundary between life and death, victory and failure, escape or an unceremonious execution.
It clanked back down to the floor.
After a second more without an explosion, Rhys decided to make up for it. “This is how you’re saving us? Just, throwing things?!”
“No, I think it’s supposed to explo—”
There was a blinding flash of light, and then, silence.
“So. Was this what you had in mind?”
“Yyyyyyyyeah no, not really.”
The two looked at the room, dumbstruck, while Rhys craned his head trying to figure out what kind of trap door they fell through to go from an underground bunker to a castle.
“Am I… hallucinating?” Rhys finally asked, cocking his head sideways at Ro-Man.
“Iunno. Let’s find out.”
Rhys felt his arm flex before he saw it, and felt his own metal hand slap his face before he knew it. “Sssssssssssssfsfsfsfsfsfs...” Rhys hissed as he doubled over and stepped to the side, while Jack laughed openly.
“Nope, we’re actually getting a Comic Con enema right now.” Jack rested his virtual hands on his virtual hips and looked around, relishing in the various oddities that populated it. “God, it’s like every two hours, your life gets even worse somehow.” Rhys nursed his bruised cheek with his left, non-mechanical hand as he took stock of the room. “You could take that on the road. ‘The Flying Fuck-Me-ni.’”
“A bup bup bup bup, somebody's saying something.” Rhys said as he squinted at the old man in the front, waving Jack off in such a way that would look strange to anyone looking in his direction. Trying to stand on his tippy toes to get a better view of the man over the rest of the crowd, Rhys suddenly found himself lifted up into the air. “Whoa!”
His surprise was short-lived, as he was placed on a hard mechanical shoulder and looked down to see a most welcome face. Or eye. “Loader Bot!” Rhys said, before leaning across the shoulder to let his arms wrap around the off-yellow robot’s headless torso in an impromptu hug. “Boy, am I glad to see you.”
“Glorious father, I am freed.” Loader Bot said in a stilted monotone, punctuated by its hand letting go of the back of Rhys’s vest to give the man a gentle series of pats.
“As much as I find this show of interspecies love revolting, can we get back on track here?” Jack said from Loader Bot’s other shoulder, causing Rhys to swiftly compose himself and sit back upright, awkwardly clearing his throat. “Right, questions, uh… excuse me! Mr. Locksmith! Sir!” Rhys called, waving his mechanical right arm to get the man’s attention, a somewhat unnecessary gesture considering her was astride the shoulder of a giant robot. “Keys, floors, that’s great and everything, but exactly how many floors are there? Are we talking a long weekend, or a few week retreat, or…” Rhys trailed off, suddenly feeling self-conscious about quizzing the specifics of their exceptionally bizarre situation.
“Also, also.” Jack chimed in. “Ask how he cheated the first time. Just to uh, make sure we don’t do it by accident.”
edited 3rd Jul '16 9:38:30 PM by Uncandescent
If I had that kind of power, I'd have dropped a meteor on your house ages ago~
Sign-Up thread: Link.
Discussion thread: Link (no need to recap from the start).
Legends tell of a tower between worlds, a tower that touches upon different realities as it stretches through the multiverse. A tower of impossible dimensions, and which forever marks the worlds that it touches. For it is a tower that only appears when a world is affected by strife and conflict, and its arrival may spell salvation or destruction. This is one of these legends, and the story of those who try to climb the Tower.
In a world between world, a construct where the ordinary laws of physics do not apply, there exists a large stone hall. The walls are built by grey stones, and they fit together so neatly that there seems to be no speck of mortar to bind them. The walls and the great domed ceiling are bare, and even in the flickering light of torches, there are no objects to make the shadows dance.
But the plain stone walls only accentuate the otherworldly nature of the other elements of the room. A grand portal along one side, its stone frame containing a pair of black and gold gates of a metal unknown to all present and enchanted with powerful magic. And on a different end of the room, a massive stone door. The portal and the door are spaced apart such that it infers the location of a third opening in the walls, but there is nothing there to complete the trifecta.
In front of the door, there sits a man dressed in ragged grey. He is a wretched sight, a tired and haggard man of indeterminate age. The travelling cloak he wears was once made to hold for a lifetime, but it has been worn to rags and all colour has faded over the years. For a long time, he has been waiting, motionless. Waiting for this moment, when new climbers would arrive, plucked from all across the myriad of worlds. His bones and joints creak as he stands up. There are so many of them this time. He wonders what the ruler of the Tower is thinking this time? In all the centuries he has spent in the Tower, he has never understood the thoughts of the one who dictates the actions of the Tower. But he knows what awaits the new Climbers.
Reimu Hakurei had been having a good day. Having swept away the last petals of the cherry blossoms, she was ready to welcome the transition from spring to summer, as new beginnings started to leave their mark on the year to come. She had just laid down to take a midday nap…
...and awakened to an entirely new location. She was in a large stone hall, together with a large number of others. Now, as the Hakurei Shrine Maiden, she had seen plenty of strange characters over the times. But such a strange collection of people she had never laid eyes on before. Tall and short, wide and slim, and from a variety of races and species, by the looks of things. And they were all so varied in their dress to nearly make it seem like a costume party, had it not been for the expressions of confusion and frustration over being in this location. Like herself, they had been taken here suddenly, and it was clear that no one understood much of the situation.
However, there was one man that stood out. A wizened old creature, a sage or monk judging by his tired attire. There was a look in his eyes that alerted Reimu’s attention immediately. He had not come here with the rest of them. He had been waiting for them. Leaving her confused fellows behind, she walked forward to address the old man. Then she hesitated.
“I have so many questions for you, I am unsure where to start.”
The old man coughed a dusty laugh. His voice was creaking like the hinges of a door that had gone a long time without being oiled, and it sounded like he hadn’t had spoken aloud for quite a long time.
“Should I begin with my name?”
“No, your name is unimportant, I believe.”
“Yes, indeed,” the old man agreed. “There are more important things that you all need to know.”
He coughed and cleared his throat, then spoke up so that anyone who would listen would hear him.
“Everyone, let me borrow your ear for a moment. This is the Tower. A Tower of the gods, some call it, or the Tower of Worlds. You have all been summoned here by the Ruler who sits at the summit of this Tower, challenged to climb its floors and reach the top. Before you reach the very top, you may not return to your homes. But should you reach the summit, you will be granted riches and treasures of your wildest desire, including a way home should you wish for it.”
It was clear from the steadiness of his words that this was something the old man had explained many times in the past.
“On every floor of the Tower, there exists a door such as this one,” he reached out to touch the large stone door he was standing in front of “and a portal such as that one.” He pointed to the black and gold gates. “Beyond those gates lies a different world, an unknown realm. In that strange world, you will need to recover the necessary keys to unlock this stone door. This will unlock the way forward, and allow you passage to the next floor. That is the only way to proceed within the Tower.”
Reimu raised her sights to have a look at the stone door. Just within arm’s reach, there were two identical indentations. They looked vaguely sword-like, or like elongated crosses with a very long upper point.
“The keys necessary can be anything. A simple coin, or an entire suit of armour. It might even not be an object at all, but a song or particular phrase.”
The old man paused for a moment to catch his breath. He looked tired, and his words were void of any particular compassion or concern for the men, women and otherwise that had been taken against their will from across the Multiverse. He went on in the same manner.
“Which brings me to explain my purpose here. You can call me the Locksmith. A long time ago, I was summoned to climb this Tower. But I cheated, and made it to one of the topmost floors without getting the keys. I received my reward of immortality, but was also cursed to guide Climbers such as yourselves for an eternity. It is my role to explain how the Tower functions and identify the key or keys you require to ascend to the next floor. If you have any questions that I can answer, you may ask them now, and then I will describe to you the keys that you will have to retrieve.”
Join us in our quest to play all RPG video games! Moving on to disc 2 of Grandia!