Pantheons of the NeSiverse
NSP: What is this thread?
In short, a place for Al to write about deities to his heart's content.
Although I say 'deities', and the title of the thread is 'pantheons', I'm referring to all manner of gods, powerful entities, and high muckity-mucks that have cropped up in the writing of the NeS (the vast majority admittedly created by me). As some may have noticed, I really like writing about epic cosmological stuff and bickering deities.
I've tried to minimize this in the NeS thread itself. When Britt started HFO, I thought, Oh, here's a place I can let loose! And I did... but it started to detract from the tale of, you know, the heroes.
So this is a thread for the deities to bicker over epic cosmological stuff. I don't really expect anyone else to write for it, but you're more than welcome to if you want! It makes me happy.
To clarify, epic cosmic deities do NOT preclude zaniness and humor.
I have no real direction with this thread, just whatever strikes me in the moment.
But Al, I can't keep all these gods, powerful entities, and high muckity-mucks straight!
And that is why I've prepared this handy-dandy list of 'deities' (which henceforth refers to any of those gods, powerful entities, and high muckity-mucks, whether or not they're technically actual deities), any or all of which may or may not appear in this story. If you are like most sane people, and don't like expository lists, feel free to skip to the next post, which opens with actual in-story bickering!
***
The deities of the NeSiverse can be roughly divided into 4 categories:
1. Terran Deities (i.e. from Earth)
2. Cosmic Deities (i.e. overseeing all or part of the greater universe beyond Earth)
3. Narrative Deities (i.e. gods overseeing story elements)
4. Other Deities (i.e. gods that don't fit in the above three categories)
***
I. TERRAN DEITIES
Earth is the metaphysical and magical center of the cosmos, granted independence from the cosmic gods by the WriterGod-enforced contracts of the Ancient One... which have recently been rendered null and void.
God. An office, not a unique person, overseeing Earth's heaven. Position currently held by Jim Seven.
Devil. An office, not a unique person, overseeing Earth's hell. Position currently held by Acidspitter, aka Mister Nine.
Master Arkng Thand. Earth's first man, an immortal. Super-strong but rarely demonstrates it. Incredibly intelligent and wise. Mysterious agenda. Deceased as of NeSquared Page 50.
Chronos. Earth's god of time. Founder and overseer of Earth's Time Enforcement Agency, or TEA.
Hermes Trismegistus. Super god-mage. Combines the powers of superspeed, with the powers of the Greek god of war, and incredible magical skill and strength.
>>>Other mages from Earth's premier magical center, the Magium, may also appear.
Morthrandur. An undead specter who does not suffer from the traditional weaknesses of undead. Mysterious motives. Can travel seemingly anywhere he wishes without impediment.
Helebon. First being to hold the position of Earth's devil. Incredibly old, evil, and powerful. Father of Satan, the second devil.
Olympus. Currently home to all the various 'mythological' deities of Earth, whose worship has been largely forgotten by the modern world.
Ancient One. A powerful being who founded the chosen bloodlines of the Illuminohqi in ancient Atlantis, and whose contracts to keep the cosmic deities away from Earth were enforced by the WriterGod. Deceased.
***
II. COSMIC DEITIES
Deities whose power and domain extend across the NeSiverse entire. Ancient contracts enforced by the WriterGod barred them from Earth until recently.
12 God-Monarchs of Mega Jonestown Prime. The most powerful beings in the NeSiverse, their powers magnified from selectively siphoning abilities of the many visitors who pass through the NeSiverse (who visit in the hope of being caught in the spotlight of the setting's story, the NeS). They disappeared a billion years ago, along with their entire city, and wait in another dimension, secretly aggrandizing in preparation for the return of their nemesis, the Highemperor.
Ohgmorkoth. Called the Big O, as no one can spell or pronounce his name. Omnipotent, and the current ruler of the NeSiverse, in title. (The title once belonged to the 12 God-Monarchs above, before they vamoosed.) In actuality, this tentacled god is hedonistic and cares little for governance, which he delegates to his vizier, Fladnag.
Fladnag the White. A demigod super-mage, comparable in power to Hermes Trismegistus (above), Fladnag is the de facto governor of the NeSiverse, wielding the Big O's authority as responsibly and tirelessly as he can.
Three Fates. These immensely powerful three women govern the destinies of all in the NeSiverse, but have been barred from Earth until recently. They are still technically answerable to the Big O (which in practice means Big O's vizier Fladnag).
Runekeeper. The immensely powerful god overseeing all magic in the NeSiverse, but who was barred from Earth until recently. Still technically answerable to the Big O (which in practice means Big O's vizier Fladnag).
Aeon. Immensely powerful cosmic god of time in the NeSiverse. Barred from Earth until recently, he and his cosmic time agency (known as T.I.M.E.) have a great rivalry with Chronos, the time god of Earth. Still technically answerable to Big O (which in practice means Big O's vizier Fladnag).
Memnoch. Immensely powerful cosmic devil, ruler of the NeSiversian hell. Collects tribute in souls from the various hells throughout the NeSiverse, save Earth, from which he was barred until recently. While still technically answerable to Big O (which in practice means Big O's vizier Fladnag), Memnoch considers himself no one's servant.
Phractal. Weird crystalline creature, highly intelligent, rarely speaks. The embodiment of the fractal nature of the NeSiverse and all its dimensions, mathematic and narrative. Lives in a cool space castle, in which the narrative deities often slum it.
***
III. NARRATIVE DEITIES
Also known as the Eternal Pantheon, these deities oversee and control story elements. They hold sway wherever stories may be found, and as such hold considerable influence in many universes besides the NeSiverse.
Eternius, the Omnarrator. Although he can do more or less whatever he likes, simply by narrating it to make it so, in practice he is a lazy bumbling figure who prefers to delegate. He is very studious in making sure his business cards all read 'Supreme Being', however.
PublisherGod. Second in the Eternal Narrative Pantheon's pecking order, he theoretically holds ultimate veto over any story, but since he only has power where there are stories, he tends to let any lousy fanfic slide through, just to increase his area of influence. Hate Harry/Draco slashfic? Roll his celestial mansion, the way everyone else does.
CensorGod. A self-righteous prick who takes it upon himself to decide what is and is not appropriate for a story. His greatest ability is his sonic scream, which sounds like BLEEP! and can erase from reality anything of which he does not approve
CopyrightGod. As anyone who has read the NeS might expect, the CopyrightGod holds little power in the NeSiverse. He is constantly on the lookout for expert lawyers to sue breaches of copyright.
EditorGod. Has the ability to edit reality to his liking, so long as said reality is within a narrative; still must answer to the previously listed narrative deities. Wields this ability with a rainbow-ink pen, to demonstrate his superiority over the red ink pens of his proxies, the Editors. As one might expect from the rainbow ink, he is also gay and a Brony to boot.
CharacterGod. Characters are the center and lifeblood of any story, but are of course subject to all the narrative influences exerted upon them. So this deity wields considerable power yet he himself is controlled by the other narrative deities, who often delegate their own duties to him.
HorseGod. Not actually a narrative deity, this horse-headed god of all horses in the NeSiverse was admitted to the Eternal Pantheon on the basis of his comedic and diplomatic skills. He also holds a secret allegiance to the 12 God-Monarchs of Mega Jonestown Prime, though this allegiance is likely one more of convenience and aligned purposes, rather than true fealty.
WriterGod. This unassuming deity, a staunch advocate of free will, is the being to whom all Writers pray for inspiration and support. Although he is seemingly technically subject to all the other narrative deities (except for the HorseGod and perhaps the CharacterGod), in practice he operates freely.
The WriterGod was also the first to hold the position of Earth's God, and some believe he is one and the same as the Nameless. Only idiots (such as Eternius the Omnarrator) do not fear and respect him.
***
IV. OTHER DEITIES
These deities defy easy categorization, but they also are in the topmost tier of power and influence, more than all the other deities of the NeSiverse.
Highemperor. A powerful being with a murky past and grand ambitions. Although he has usually only demonstrated demigod levels of power, there is no upper limit to what he can do. His contemporaneous self rules a multi-cosmic empire from the Stronghold of Powerplayers (which is outside the NeSiverse), but as he is a time-traveler, one never knows if you're talking to him as an emperor or as a wanderer.
High Imp. A fallen angel, who once served in a triple capacity as highest-ranking archangel to: the WriterGod, Earth's God, and the Nameless. Nemesis of Highemperor. Once commanded mind-bogglingly enormous power from the many pacts he made with various deities. Although his soul eventually shattered from the strain of so many pacts, few know of his new weakness... and even now, he is rebuilding his power.
Serapharch. The archangel who inherited High Imp's triple capacity in service to WriterGod, Earth's God, and the Nameless. His power varies depending on which capacity he is acting in. When acting as the highest servant and voice of the Nameless, his power is irrefutable by any save the other three deities in this category.
Nameless. So called because no word, communication, art, or any other attempt at a name can truly grasp the hyperdimensional eternity of this being. Supreme being over all universes and all stories everywhere. His face has never been confirmed to have been seen, but rumors persist of sightings, which may or may not be true. Many suspect the WriterGod to be the same being as the Nameless.
***
And now, let the divine bickering begin!
Who Wants to Rule the Universe Anyway?
On the edge of the NeSiverse lie the Outer Galaxies. On a desert planet called Tatooine, the Big O pursues his hedonistic pleasures in his remote palace. Meanwhile, his faithful vizier, Fladnag the White, enacts the actual governance of the cosmos.
Fladnag the White: Next!
President of the Outer Galaxies Swim Team: But I wasn't finished!
Fladnag the White: I already told you no.
President of the Outer Galaxies Swim Team: But we HAVE to have a match here! On the very capital world!
Fladnag the White: Look, you're more than welcome to try. But good luck keeping a giant pool of water from evaporating. NEXT!
Pig-faced Gamorrean guards usher the President of the Outer Galaxies Swim Team away, and Fladnag looks towards the door of the throne room. He himself is standing next to Big O's throne, clearly delineating his position as vizier and governor in the omnipotent deity's stead.
When no one comes in right away, Fladnag frowns, before speaking into a microphone attached to his collar.
Fladnag the White: Dora! What's the hold-up? If the next supplicant is delaying, boot him out of line.
It is then that the door to the throne room opens, and a supplicant attempts to come in, before being decapitated by an extremely sharp and bloody sword.
Decapitated Head: I say! Brutish swordplay won't make you next in line!
Fladnag's frown deepens. Two young-looking men walk in, stepping over the decapitated head. One is a caped, short-haired, young swordsman, whose sharp blade still glistens with the neon blood of his latest victim. The other is a long-haired man in a black cloak and outfit, with red sash and shoulderpads.
Highemperor: You do know that it's extremely poor form to keep talking after you've been decapitated?
Yes, this is indeed a younger version of Highemp, from earlier in his personal timeline when he was a multiversal and multi-temporal wanderer. His companion, the talented and bloodthirsty warrior Soriel, boots the vociferously protesting head out of the room.
Soriel: Hey look! More guards! Hope they're hostile.
Gamorrean guards are approaching the duo, and Soriel eagerly raises his sentient sword - known as Fred Teh Uber Blade - to greet them. The guards pull back at a gesture from Fladnag, much to Soriel's evident disappointment.
Fladnag: Highemperor....!
For once, the vizier's voice is slightly fearful.
Highemp: You know me? Well, I suppose my reputation precedes me.
It is then that Fladnag realizes this is a younger Highemp, and not the present-day ruler of a phenomenally large and powerful empire.
Fladnag: You might say that... what do you want?
Highemp throws out his arms in a grandiose proclamation. Fireworks spark behind him for effect, summoned by his magical powers.
Highemp: I'm here to conquer the NeSiverse!
Fladnag blinks.
Soriel: You've got to stop using those fireworks, it renders them speechless every time.
Highemp: That is sort of the point.
Soriel: Whatever. Can I kill those guards now?
Highemp: Only if they attack first.
Soriel: Spoilsport.
Highemp: Now where is Oh... Og... Okmerkith?
Fladnag: Ohgmorkoth.
Highemp: Right, him. Where is he?
Fladnag: He's in his chambers, enjoying his harem.
Fred Teh Uber Blade: A harem? Suddenly this just got more interesting!
Soriel: SILENCE BLADE!
Fladnag looks quizzically at the young swordsman. No one can hear Fred's voice except the one who holds him. Highemp looks apologetic.
Highemp: Ignore him. Now, lead me to him, that I may overthrow him!
Fladnag: Well, if that's all you want, you don't have to do anything to him. He doesn't care about ruling the universe. Gave me that job.
Highemp: You? And who are you?
The time-traveling wanderer looks Fladnag up and down. He is in a gray robe, and a tall pointy gray hat. A long white beard flows down his chest.
Highemp: A Gandalf wannabe?
Fladnag: I am NOT! Why does everyone keep saying that? I am Fladnag the White!
Highemp and Soriel look significantly at Fladnag's clearly gray robes.
Fladnag: It's not MY fault it's impossible to bleach out Tatooine's sand.
Highemp: Whatever. Looks like I've got to overthrow you then!
Soriel: Does this mean I can kill him now?
Fladnag snorts. Highemp he fears, but he'd like to see a mortal swordsman try.
Fladnag: Fine. If you want the job, you can have it. Your seat, my lord.
He gestures to the throne, much to Highemp's confusion.
Highemp: You... give up?
Fladnag: Well, who am I to resist an obviously superior force?
Highemp and Soriel trade glances. Soriel just shrugs. Highemp collects himself.
Highemp: Right! Exactly! You show great wisdom! You may remove yourself now.
Fladnag: Of course, my lord. I'm sure you're eager to greet your supplicants.
He bows, and hides a smile as he leaves. Perhaps he can catch a nap... though he wonders how much sleep he'll actually get. Soriel looks after him with some consternation.
Soriel: Are you SURE I can't kill him?
Highemp: I wouldn't kill a surrendered foe!
Soriel: I would...
Highemp: Kill those guards if you must. I'm glad to hear I already have supplicants, here to praise my glory and majesty!
The Gamorrean guards bleat in terror and try to run away, but Soriel is on them, killing them in moments.
Soriel: That was very satisfying. But too short.
Fred Teh Uber Blade: That's what she said!
Soriel: SILENCE BLADE!
Highemp: Of course, you do realize that, without the guards, you have to usher in the supplicants now?
Soriel: Damnation.
Soriel trudges to the door of the throne room as Highemp settles himself in the throne - which is far too big for him, sized as it is for a tentacled monstrosity - as a bald man holding a huge tome comes in.
Runekeeper: Fladnag, I-- You're not Fladnag.
Highemp: How very astute you are! I am Highemperor, the new supreme ruler of the NeSiverse, and your lord!
Runekeeper: Right. Where's Fladnag?
Highemp: He's not here any more! I'm the one you're dealing with!
The Runekeeper, god of all magic in the NeSiverse, whose book holds every rune and spell and magic-user who ever did or ever would exist in that cosmos, looks skeptically at Highemperor.
Runekeeper: Alright then. I'm looking for Earth's resident god of magic, but there's no listing in the Divine Yellow Pages.
Highemp: Earth's god of magic? Er, I don't seem to recall meeting one when I was there...
Soriel: Did you try googling it?
Runekeeper: Of course! What kind of idiot do you think I am? Er, one moment please, just received an urgent text.
He pulls out his phone and hurriedly googles 'Earth's god of magic'.
Highemp: But your phone didn't beep.
Runekeeper: I have it set on vibrate! Er, so as not to disturb your chambers with, um, unnecessary sounds, my lord. Anyways, as I was saying, OF COURSE I googled it. Unfortunately, the only results I get are Hermes Trismegistus and Thoth.
Highemp: I think I've met both of them before...
Runekeeper: But Hermes, while adept and powerful at WIELDING magic, AND a god on that planet to boot, isn't a god OVER magic. And Thoth, while a magically authoritative and knowledgeable god, seems to just be a bookworm.
Highemp: Well, sorry, but I don't think I can help you.
Runekeeper: Well, can you get Fladnag? I bet he would know!
Highemp: Ugh! Enough about Fladnag! NEXT!
Soriel ushers the Runekeeper out, and the next supplicant comes in. For several hours, Highemp deals with frustrating supplicant after frustrating supplicant. They all have problems they want him to solve, and when he can't, they want Fladnag. As the most recent supplicant is ushered out by Soriel, Highemp slumps in his throne.
Highemp: WRAAAA! No wonder Big O delegates to Fladnag. I think I need an empire of my own before I can conquer the NeSiverse, so I have people to delegate ruling to!
An inspiration comes to him, manifesting as a light bulb over his head.
Highemp: I delegate you, Soriel!
Soriel: What?
Highemp: Yes, you are now my chief vizier. You can see all these supplicants.
Soriel: Fair warning, if you make me vizier, there will be a lot more decapitated heads around here.
Highemp: WRAAAA! Fine. FLADNAG! Where the frack did he get to?
Soriel: Well, you did tell him to take a hike...
At that moment, Fladnag the White walks in, much refreshed after his siesta.
Fladnag: And indeed I did! But I am here if my lord requires me.
Highemp: Right, yes. Er, in my magnificent magnanimity, I have decided to allow your universe autonomy for the time being. You may resume your duties, and Big O can have his throne back. It doesn't fit me anyway.
Fladnag bows.
Fladnag: My lord is most gracious.
Highemp scurries out of the palace as fast as his legs will carry him, with Soriel trailing behind. Fladnag resumes his position standing by the throne and raps the butt of his staff on the floor.
Fladnag: NEXT!
The Second Cataclysm of Magic
A foul plot by Memnoch - aided by cunning reality-warping magic-absorbing bombs developed by Discharding - has disrupted all magic on Earth, shattering the ley nexes and nearly destroying the planet itself.
Earth is the center of the cosmic weave, the pattern after which the fractal of the NeSiverse is formed. So when magic ruptures on Earth... so too does it across the cosmos.
Continents on far-flung planets heave and crack. Stars implode. Spacetime itself ripples. Magic-users and mystical devices everywhere lose power, or work differently, or not at all.
In his sanctum, the Runekeeper - cosmic god overseeing magic - shrieks in pain as he feels the magic exploding. Ley lines all across universe snap in twain, and each one feels like a bone breaking in his body.
Runekeeper: So... much... lost...
He grits his teeth, clenching his fists together as he summons to him all the magic he possibly can, attempting to stabilize it, to grant it a center around which to stabilize it.
It is little use, however, for the fractal nature of the NeSiverse means that the Earth's magical state determines the universe's, and the Runekeeper is not on Earth at the moment.
Runekeeper: Damn the Ancient One for kicking me off that planet. Then I wouldn't have had to conspire with Memnoch to destroy the very nexes that should have been mine!
Yes, the Runekeeper conspired to destroy the magical nexes of Earth, despite the pain it would cause him.
Memnoch: A shame you weren't able to create a new nexus under your control. Of course, you still have all time to keep trying, now that Earth's nexes are gone.
The Runekeeper spins around, but he is alone. Memnoch has only projected his voice into the magic deity's privacy. The Runekeeper grimaces at Memnoch's taunt, but he cannot resist the lure, and he hates himself for it. With a wish, he vanishes and reappears far across a multi-dimensional gulf to appear in Tartarus, the cosmic hell.
Runekeeper: Damn you.
Memnoch: Why, whatever have I done?
The archdevil overseeing all the hells of the NeSiverse smiles ominously, unperturbed. The Runekeeper is silent, refusing to rise to the bait. Memnoch waits patiently. Finally, the Runekeeper speaks.
Runekeeper: The nexus of magic on Earth has been all but obliterated.
Memnoch grins.
Memnoch: How... unfortunate!
Runekeeper: And nobody knows where the... information regarding the nexes originated?
Memnoch: Not even Orkag... Orkagm... Ort... That Big Idiot.
Runekeeper: Careful how much you say aloud, Memnoch. Even in this realm of yours, there are ears for the Big O or other deities. If the Earth deities found out...
Memnoch: Then I'd destroy them all the sooner. You may leave.
Runekeeper: You're ordering me around now, Memnoch?
Memnoch stares at the Runekeeper for a long while before shrugging and walking away. Only then does the Runekeeper leave. Memnoch chuckles sinisterly to himself.
Memnoch: So many bickering deities, always determined to have the last word. So determined, they lose sight of what's really important.
The archdevil approaches an elevator. Above the elevator door is the number 274, written in glowing red gothic script. Memnoch presses the button next to it, and the doors open with a ding.
Memnoch: I really should have that sound replaced with something more sinister...
Buttons cover the interior of the elevator, ranging from 1 all the way to 665. Memnoch presses 665, and the elevator whooshes down as classical elevator music begins playing.
Memnoch: Replacing this gods-awful music with a cacophony of the damned should also be higher on my priority list.
It takes more than one hundred years for the elevator to reach the 665th layer of Tartarus, despite it dropping at speeds nearing that of light. Fortunately, Memnoch has time to spare, and time flows differently in this hell, meaning he has lost no time in the outside NeSiverse.
Stepping out into the 665th layer, only darkness greets the archdevil. Torchs give little illumination, for the very ground is solid darkness. This layer - and the nearly two hundred layers above it - have been excavated from the subdimensional strata of the NeSiverse, but have yet to be populated.
Memnoch walks through the darkness for an interminable period, before coming to some spiral stairs that descend into the solid-darkness ground. Hellish light shines from below, and brightens as he descends.
Memnoch: A;lkasjdglkkhadslf;kjadskljgagsd!
The archdevil speaks in the Ancient Language(TM), a terrible speech whose words cause chaos and disorder for leagues around when spoken. There is no one but Memnoch around however, and the passphrase keeps the booby traps at bay. At the bottom of the steps is a great door. Memnoch passes through it, and more than two dozen doors after that, all layers of security requiring different means to open.
Memnoch: This could be the title sequence of a Get Smart reboot that takes place in Hell. I should offer it as an idea the next time a movie producer offers me his soul for success.
The final door opens onto the lip of a vast pit, as wide as an ocean. Noxious black smoke wafts up from the bottomless pit, and puffs of hellish flame occasionally drift up as well. Memnoch inhales with satisfaction.
Memnoch: Ah, the scent of torment and despair... still, a little sharp even for me.
This is the Abyss, home to Memnoch's most ancient and terrible prisoner. When Memnoch dug down through the subdimensional strata of the NeSiverse to create his domain, the 666th was the lowest he could go; there was no further 'down' to dig, insofar as directions exist in an other-dimensional meta-space.
But the Abyss was already here, waiting for him, and when Memnoch discerned what lay within it, fear gripped him for the first and only time in his eternal life... but also excitement, for the opportunity.
Memnoch: Time to imbue another servant...
He inhales black smoke, and his perfect red flesh cracks as he contains it, his eyes turning jet black and leaking the occasional fume. In this manner, the archdevil leaves the Abyss and goes back up to a higher layer of Tartarus, choosing the damned soul of a Grey at random.
King of the Greys: My lord! It is an honor to finally meet you in person! I have ever served--
Memnoch exhales the black smoke. His eyes and skin return to their normal state, but the smoke surrounds the Grey King and transforms him. The damned soul screams... yet no one, save Memnoch, hears him.
And when the transformation is complete, no one, save Memnoch, even remembers his ever existed.
Twice-Forgotten Greyshade: What would you have of me, my lord?
Memnoch smiles chillingly.
Memnoch: With its nexes destroyed, Earth is vulnerable. Leave it whole, or not, I do not care... but annul its centrality, annul its metaphysical significance as the pattern for the fractal of the NeSiverse...
Princess, Goddess, Powerplayer
Once upon a long-ago, in a time and place distantly removed from the NeSiverse, twin girls were born to a beloved king and queen over a vast realm. These princesses were blessed by fairies and dragons and gods and fauns and phoenices and unicorns and wizards. They were blessed with beauty, intelligence, charm, magic, and so on and so forth.
But then came one old crone who bestowed a gift that was not a blessing, but a prophecy.
Old Crone: Great and magnificent these little stars shall be. But two suns cannot share the same sky.
The court mad scientist raises his finger.
Court Mad Scientist: Actually, that's not true. The kingdom even includes a binary system within its borders.
Old Crone: Silence! These two suns are too bold and bright to share the same sky. Inevitably one must triumph over the other, though they orbit each other peacefully for a time. But one sun will gradually become eclipsed in the other's shadow...
Court Mad Scientist: That makes no sense. A sun is its own source of light, it can't be shadowed!
The old crone shoots the mad scientist a withering look, and hobbles out. Her prophecy, so debunked by the court mad scientist, is discounted.
The twin princesses are named Imeryn and Ameryl. Eighteen years pass, and they become the greatest beauties ever, the smartest sages ever, the most popular hostesses ever, the greatest sorceresses ever-- Do I really have to keep going on with this list?
Imeryn: Yes!
Ameryl: Hush, sister. No, you don't, Narrator.
Imeryn: Dammit, I spent hours writing that list!
I believe it. This scroll falls to my feet and loops around my body along the floor. Hey, are dainty princesses supposed to be foulmouthed?
Imeryn: Um, curses! That's what I mean. I mean, that's what I said. Totally what I said.
Ameryl: No, I'm pretty sure you said--
Imeryn: I'M GOING TO PRETEND THAT NEVER HAPPENED!
Time rolls back slightly. Oh hey, looks like you're right. You did say curses.
Imeryn: Told you.
Ameryl: Leave the poor Narrator alone, sis. He's just trying to do his job.
Imeryn: Trying and failing...
I heard that! Anyway, now that the twin princesses have come of age, men - and women - have come from all over the universe to offer suit to these great beauties.
Ameryl: Well, that's awfully nice of them, but I only wear gowns. No suits.
Imeryn: And no one could possibly be worthy of me!
I hate to say it, but you are royals. You have to at least entertain these suits.
Ameryl: I suppose I could donate them to Goodwill.
Imeryn: I suppose it will be fun to shoot them all down!
Also, there is no Goodwill in your universe. Anyway, the princesses politely refuse all the suits-- well, Ameryl politely refuses them, Imeryn is quite disdainful and blunt. Finally, a fair peasant girl shuffles shyly up to stand before the two-throned dais.
Fair Peasant Girl: I have nothing to offer you, but then there is no gift or dowry that could possibly be worthy of you. But still, I confess that I love you.
Britt the Writer: This better not venture into lesbian NeSmut, Al!
Al Ciao the Writer: I'm not making any promises!
Ameryl: Awwww, that is so cute. And you are very beautiful and kind.
Imeryn: A PEASANT??? Bahahahahaha-- hey wait, that's actually pretty romantic. The princess and the pauper! And you are much better looking than any of the other suitors. Also, having no status, you won't be any danger of trying to upstage me!
Imeryn and Ameryl: I accept your suit!
The twin sisters look at each other in surprise, then protest to each other simultaneously.
Imeryn and Ameryl: No, I do! Not you! Me! She's mine!
Thus begins a rift that day between the two princesses, as they both seek to claim the fair peasant girl for her own. Ameryl offers to share, but Imeryn vehemently demands the fair peasant girl all for herself.
In the end, the two sisters engage in a wizards' duel. Imeryn wins, and banishes her sister, before marrying the fair peasant girl and being crowned queen. As the years pass, she only grows in power and beauty - and ambition.
She conquers ever more territory, and sends expeditions into far-flung dimensions in search of more planes and universes to conquer. That's when she discovers the Stronghold of Powerplayers.
Imeryn: Perfect! These are the only compatriots who could ever keep up with me! I shall rule over them as Supreme Powerplayer!
She goes to the Stronghold of Powerplayers in a chariot pulled by a team of combination phoenix-unicorn-dragon-demon-angel-fairies - a species she created herself, PUDDAFs for short - and is welcomed as a fellow Powerplayer, strong enough to ascend to the exalted ranks of the High Pantheon of the Throne, bringing this ruling coterie's numbers to 7.
Imeryn: It is fitting that I am among the greatest, most majestic, most uber-beyond-divine munchkins in all the realities and unrealisties of Anti-Existentessence.
Knightlord Thorn: Indeed! It is well that you join our purpose.
Imeryn: But I am the strongest powerplayer of you all. I should not merely be on this council, but enthroned!
She points to the shadowy unoccupied throne in the Pantheon's sanctum.
Knightlord Thorn: That seat is reserved for our Supreme Emperor God, who we have prophesied to come to us and lead us to omnicosmic glory.
Imeryn: Clearly, that is me!
Knightlord Thorn: I'm afraid not. We await the coming of one called Highemperor.
Imeryn does not stand for that, and war breaks out between the Pantheon of the High Throne and Queen Imeryn. Despite her power, and her small army of PUDDAFs along with her vast realm's resources, she is unable to defeat the entire Stronghold of Powerplayers.
In a last resort, she unleashes a terrible spell that saps the life of every one of her subjects to deal the Stronghold's legions a terrible blow, as she escapes to another universe, her loyal PUDDAFs in tow.
This universe is the NeSiverse.
Still in its infancy, this cosmos presents a vast new canvas for Imeryn to paint her schemes upon, and she is a founder of Mega Jonestown Prime, becoming the most powerful of its 12 God-Monarchs... She is savvy enough not to press her claim to supremacy over the other God-Monarchs, knowing she needs their help to overcome the Stronghold of Powerplayers someday... and their prophesied Supreme Emperor God...
Space Camelot: The Meeting
Space Camelot: The Meeting
Characters: King Arthur, Morganna le Fay, Guinevere, Merlin the Younger, Sir Bedivere, Sir Kay, Sir Lancelot, Prince Llacheu
Tintagel Castle lies in Dummonia in Cornwall, south-west of England. It was the castle of his mother, Igraine, and the place of his birth. On the beach outside because his mother didn't want her husband know she was giving birth to another man's child. Oops!
Well, despite his infamous birth, Arthur is the son of Uther Pendragon and, thus, rightful ruler of all Britannia - won through might and heroism. All of England, Scotland, Wales and Ireland has been under Arthur's care for many years and they have become stable, rich lands of care-free people. Arthur, however, has become unsettled with such quietude.
He considered expanding his domain. Iceland, Norway, Denmark, Gaul, even Rome itself would be prize targets. But then, something else happened. The old wizard Merlin and Arthur, many years prior, had discovered a very unusual passage that led to the deep bowels of the Earth and down there they found an instrument. An instrument of Arthur's new ambition.
Arthur: "I gathered you all here to discuss something very important to me."
Sir Kay: "Shouldn't we do this in Camelot, Sire? In a proper round table meeting?"
Sir Bedivere: "You just don't like calling your brother, Sire..."
Sir Kay: "Half-brother."
Arthur: "Alright, you can call me Arthur at this meeting! God damn it!"
The knights all facepalm at Arthur's blatant blasphemy.
The three knights present are Sir Kay, the half-brother of the king (born by Igraine to her first husband and not to Uther, the father of Arthur), Sir Bedivere, an intelligent man and Arthur's longest friend, and finally Sir Lancelot du Lac, Arthur's closest friend and confidant. But they aren't the only ones present. With them are two women.
Morgan: "Just tell us what you want, brother."
Merlin: "Please don't tell me you brought us here to discuss your cheese farm again..."
Morganna le Fay, also half-sister of Arthur (this time through his father), is a woman with a short-temper and a lot of magic to obliterate those she finds annoying. Merlin, on the other hand, is a woman who considers herself good and virtuous though. Unlike the knights in the room, the two women are of pagan origins and worship the land as opposed to the sky. They are also both former students of Merlin the Wizard that once aided Arthur gain his kingdom - now, however, he in entombed within Doughnutdelf beneath the hallowed grounds of Stonehenge and the two women are left without their mentor.
Arthur: "Not my cheese farm. This isn't quite as important as my cheese farm. This is about our destiny and future expansion of my kingdom!"
Everyone is silent for a moment.
Sir Kay: "The cheese farm is more important...?"
Arthur: "Everybody loves my cheeses."
Sir Kay: "Not sure how that makes it more important..."
Arthur wafts his hand dismissively, eager to get back to his illustrious scheme.
Morgan: "If this is about your kingdom, I don't see why I have to be here. It's not like I'd help you do anything..."
Merlin: "You certainly helped him do something before..."
Arthur groans while Morgan glares at her rival apprentice.
Morgan: "And!? Do you have a point to make!?"
Merlin: "Not really. Just pointing out the hypocrisy."
Sir Kay: "Just great. Five minutes and we're in the awkward territory of incest."
Arthur: "Do we have to--"
Morgan: "Nothing awkward about it! We were very young and curious! It happens!"
Sir Kay: "Right. Let me make note of just how awkward this meeting is going to get..."
Merlin: "It happens... again... and again... and again..."
Arthur: "Aaaaaall in the past. I'm married and respectable now!"
Morgan: "Are you saying I'm not respectable even to sleep with?"
Arthur: "That's not what I'm saying, my love--"
Sir Kay: "Ohhhh bad choice of pet name..."
Arthur groans again.
Arthur: "Please, can we talk about my awesome idea now!?"
Morgan: "I repeat, why do I have to be here?"
Arthur: "Because I need you."
Sir Kay: "There's yet another major awkward moment! I'm going to start a graph for this."
Sir Kay whips out a piece of graph paper and starts marking on awkward notches.
Arthur: "I didn't mean like that!"
Morgan: "Shame..."
Arthur: "Morgan!"
Sir Kay: "Wow. Just wow."
Merlin: "There's no depths to which you won't sink, Morganna."
Morgan: "At least I don't cling to the skirt-tails of our mentor, Lady Merlin."
Merlin: "It's an honour to carry the name of my mentor! He's a supreme man of greatness!"
Morgan rolls her eyes.
Arthur: "Shut. Up! Everyone! For just, like, five God damn minutes!"
The knights all facepalm.
Arthur: "Right! So! Me and Merlin found something underground!"
Merlin: "We did?"
Arthur: "No, not you. The other Merlin."
Morgan: "The Merlin of import."
Merlin: "Hey! You--! I'm more important than you, Morganna! You're nothing but a-- a--"
Morgan gives one of her rare smirks, which appears very sly.
Morgan: "A what, Lady Merlin?"
Merlin: "A-A-A brother-shagger!!"
Merlin instantly clamps her hands to her own mouth, shocked and appalled at her own words. Morgan just laughs while Arthur, once again, groans with frustration.
Morgan: "You say it like I should be ashamed of myself. I'm not. My brother's hot--"
Sir Kay: "That one's going off the scale!"
Morgan: "And I'm not a prudish, frigid little bimbo like you."
Unable to come up with such a horrible insult to counter that Merlin stammers and looks like she's going to start bawling.
Arthur: "She doesn't mean it, Merlin."
Morgan: "I bloody do."
Sir Bedivere: "Perhaps, and I'm almost loathe to say this, we should let Arthur tell us his plan?"
Arthur: "YES! We found something! We found... a ship!"
Sir Bedivere: "Ship... underground? Sire, you do know ships sail on water and not through soil?"
Arthur: "Yes, yes. This is the ship. I call it-- Camelot!"
Arthur pulls out a model of a ship.
Sir Bedivere: "Camelot?"
Sir Lancelot: "Camelot!"
Merlin: "Camelot!?"
Arthur: "Camelot!"
They look at the little wooden piece.
Morgan: "It's only a model."
Arthur: "Yes it's a model of the real thing."
Sir Bedivere: "May I, Sire?"
Arthur, grinning with pride, hands it over to the knight of science. Sir Bedivere holds the model up to his face and inspects the unusual object. It's somewhat crescent-shaped, like a fat worm curled around, and has gigantic funnels poking out of one side. He scratches his head, ruffling his dark hair.
Sir Bedivere: "Are you certain this is a ship, Sire?"
Morgan: "Knowing my brother, it could be new design of table."
Arthur: "How was I supposed to know that a frisbee wasn't a table!? Besides, it worked out in the end, didn't it? Now my round table is famous!"
Morgan: "The frisbee table..."
Merlin: "How can you say you think your brother is... hot--"
Merlin blushes just saying the word.
Merlin: "--And yet you insult him and call him stupid!"
Morgan looks at Arthur then at Merlin.
Morgan: "Because he is hot and he is stupid. One doesn't preclude the other. I have to resist the urge the spank dat ass on a daily basis."
Arthur frowns while Sir Kay starts scribbling on his graph.
Arthur: "Why would you want to spank an ass?"
Sir Bedievere: "Sire, I believe she's referring to your derrière."
Arthur: "Morgan!"
Morgan just shrugs.
Sir Bedivere: "Your ship, Sire? Can you tell us more about it?"
Sir Kay: "Yes. Please do. I'm running out of graph paper."
Arthur: "This doesn't sail on water. It sails through the sky!"
Everyone is silent for a long moment before Sir Lancelot sighs with concern;
Sir Lancelot: "I did hit him quite hard during our last jousting session..."
Sir Bedievere: "Ah. I should check for cranial damage."
Morgan: "You said Merlin was with you, Arthur? Did he tell you it was a sky ship?"
Arthur grins manically.
Arthur: "He sure did!"
Everyone is now silent again, but this time in shock and awe at the possibility of sailing through the skies.
Arthur: "Hey! You don't believe me but you'll believe Merlin!?"
Everyone but Morgan looks sheepish.
Morgan: "I told you a moment ago, you're an idiot."
Arthur snatches his model from Bedievere and wags it at everyone.
Arthur: "Idiot, am I!? I'm the one who's going to be cruising to the stars and conquering alien babes!"
Sir Lancelot piques up at this.
Sir Lancelot: "That does sound exciting. A truly worthy quest for a knight of my calibre!"
He cuts a dashing figure as he poses and stares off into the middle-distance. Nobody pays him any attention, however.
Merlin: "How does it work, do you think? Those funnels at the back, are they the flying mechanism?"
Sir Bedivere: "Presumably. But Sire, how large is this vessel? How many people can it contain?"
Arthur looks mischievously around the room.
Arthur: "It's about the size of England."
Sir Bedivere winces with incomprehension.
Sir Bedivere: "You mean it was under England, right?"
Arthur: "It was under England... and it's the size of England. A gigantic ship that I could fit the entire population into!"
They all stare at the model for a long while in contemplation of this monstrosity. Arthur holds it up to everyone as though it were the holy grail itself. Arthur's brown eyes seem to shine as he stares at his precious prize. His muddy blonde hair is loosely pushed back and with his free hand he strokes the fibres of his short beard. If there was one thing Arthur had learnt about getting to forty as a man, it was to grow a manly beard to hide those wrinkles.
Morgan: "And... what did you want me to do, exactly?"
Sir Kay: "Maybe I don't want to hear Arthur answer that."
Arthur look incredulously at his half-brother.
Arthur: "I'm a married man now!"
Sir Kay shrugs.
Sir Kay: "Once a deviant..."
Morgan glowers at Sir Kay.
Morgan: "And having sex with me is a deviance!?"
Sir Kay is one of the only knights of the round table that isn't afraid of Morganna le Fay, which either attests to his bravery or to his lack of wisdom.
Sir Kay: "When it's your own brother doing the shagging, yes. Yes it is."
Morgan looks like she might blast Kay into a thousand pieces but, suddenly, the glower evaporates and she just shrugs.
Morgan: "I can accept that. Deviance is just another word for extremely kinky."
She smirks.
Sir Lancelot stares at her longingly.
Sir Lancelot: "You are probably the greatest woman in all the land, Lady Morganna."
Morgan: "Of course I am. Shame my brother doesn't feel the same way."
Arthur: "Camelot, people. Remember? The sky ship?"
He turns to Morgan.
Arthur: "I need you to raise my spaceship."
Sir Kay: "I'm just going to throw the whole ink well over the graph for that one."
Morgan: "I can raise it instantly, brother."
Sir Kay: "And now I'm going to find a vat of ink and dump it in."
Merlin: "Morganna! Please! Show some dignity!!"
Merlin's face is burning luminous red with horror. Because she shaves her hair very close to her head, she looks like a ripe tomato.
Morgan: "You mean I should be a frigid idiot virgin like you, Lady Merlin? No thanks."
Arthur: "Enough of the sex!"
Morgan folds her arms.
Morgan: "Speak for yourself."
Arthur: "My ship!"
She looks down.
Arthur: "This one!"
Morgan: "What? What do you want me to do with that one? I can think of a hundred ways of raising the other one, but that thing I'm at a loss."
Sir Kay: "I should have used the entire table as my graph."
Arthur: "Merlin told me how you can help, Morgan!"
Merlin: "Not me. He means the other Merlin."
Morgan eyes Merlin.
Morgan: "Yeah. Because it's going to be something intelligent."
Merlin's lower lips pushes up and begins to wibble.
Sir Bedivere: "Merlin, don't get upset now. She's trying to upset you. Don't give her what she wants."
Morgan: "Sir Bedivere, man of reason and boredom."
Sir Bedivere just smiles and shakes his head, far too collected to rise to her bullying.
Arthur: "My ship!"
Arthur glares around the room and everyone for silence.
Arthur: "Merlin said the ship can use a sudden, immense charge of magic to turn on!"
Morgan smirks but before she could spout an innuendo Arthur interjects;
Arthur: "This spaceship, Morgan. This one here."
Merlin: "If it's just a jolt of magic, I could do that for you, your Majesty!"
Morgan: "Yeah, if he wants it to limp through the sky to an early demise."
Merlin pouts, her fists clenched.
Merlin: "I'm more powerful than you, you-- you--!"
Morgan: "What? What am I Merlin?"
Merlin's eyes rove downwards, searching for inspiration.
Morgan: "What? Were you going to say brother-shagger again?
Merlin sullenly nods her uselessness at the insult-game. Morgan laughs with her deep, patronising voice. She's not a tall woman, in fact she's shorter than Merlin, and yet she's always carried a huge presence in any room with her commanding air, superior-than-thou demeanour and powerful, sensual voice that brims with confidence and control.
Arthur: "Sorry Merlin. It's not actually magic from with either of you that's needed. It'll need... the power of Avalon."
Morgan snaps her attention to Arthur with sudden seriousness.
Morgan: "You don't mean..."
Arthur nods.
Morgan: "No! No way."
Arthur desperately waggles his model at her.
Arthur: "But spaceship!!"
Morgan: "But my magical *****ing island!"
Arthur pauses.
Arthur: "But SPACESHIP!"
Merlin: "I think, Sire, you are asking a lot of your sister..."
Morgan points an aggressive finger at Merlin.
Morgan: "I don't need your help in this!"
Merlin: "But I--"
Morgan points her finger at Arthur, as she draws up to him.
Morgan: "No. I say no again. And no, no, NO!"
Arthur: "B-b-but..."
Morgan: "Unless you sleep with me again."
Arthur stares.
Sir Kay: "Dude. You're actually considering it..."
Arthur snaps out of his stare and frowns at his half-brother.
Arthur: "I am not! No, Morgan. No I can't. I love my wife. You need to move on and find a new, nice, husband. Like Lancelot! He likes you!"
Sir Lancelot looks aghast.
Sir Lancelot: "Lancelot du Lac... married!? Perish the thought, Arthur!"
Morgan folds her arms.
Morgan: "Whore yourself out to me or you don't get your stupid, little ship."
Sir Bedivere: "You recall it's the size of England, correct?"
Guinevere: "It's never going to happen, sister-in-law."
They all turn to see Queen Guinevere enter the room. She's tall and graceful with long, red hair that's been plaited into a thick side-plait that falls over her shoulder to rest against her bosom. She wears a delicate, though simple, dress of sky blue and a long, white cloak with thick fur to stave off the cold of the stone castle.
Sir Kay: "I think we've reached the pinnacle of awkward right about now."
Guinevere: "Nothing to feel awkward about, brother-in-law. Morganna cannot help how she feels. She's blameless for an affair long ago conceived. But surely you're above blackmail, my love?"
At Guinevere's address, Sir Lancelot's wide eyes rove from the beautiful Guinevere to the sensual Morgan and back again with glee.
Morgan: "I am not above it, no. Not if it gets me what I want."
Merlin: "It's fine. I can try to generate this magic for you, Sire. It may take a while, but I can stockpile enough to power this ship. I'm certain of it. I can seek more training and advice from my mentor--"
Morgan: "You couldn't power a wet fart!"
Merlin looks incredulous.
Merlin: "You're so vile, Morganna! And I shall power this! Because you, clearly, cannot!"
Morgan: "I have more magic in a single eyelash than you could achieve in your entire lifetime!"
Merlin: "And yet, you cannot do this but I can. So who has more power again?"
Morgan folds her arms again.
Morgan: "You can't goad me into this. Nice try."
Merlin: "Don't flatter yourself, Morganna. I am simply better and more talented than you. If there's a way, you know I shall find it."
Morgan now, for the first time, looks jealous with her rival. She breathes in angrily several times before throwing her arms down.
Morgan: "Fine! But if you're going to destroy my home for this proxy space-boat, then I'm going with you! I'll need a new home."
Guinevere: "Perfect!"
Morgan: "Don't try to stop me-- wait, what?"
Guinevere: "I was worried that your son would cause no end of trouble if left here unchecked. So when Arthur mentioned this mad plan, I saw a perfect solution to any impending inheritance row - give Mordred his own kingdom on some other--"
She wafts her hand.
Guinevere: "Place."
Morgan looks dumbstruck.
Morgan: "You... you..."
Guinevere smiles sweetly.
Guinevere: "I'm a what, dear Morganna?"
Morgan: "Conniving, deceitful wretch! If I wasn't so impressed I'd set you on fire. I can't believe this was your plan all along! I-I-I am so frustrated I'm going to go and torture some kittens!"
She marches towards the door but Merlin shrieks after her.
Merlin: "DON'T! DON'T YOU DARE! VILE VILLAIN! I'LL-I'LL STOP YOU!!! THOSE INNOCENT KITTENS SHALL NOT BE HARMED!!!!!"
Arthur: "She isn't being serious, Merlin."
Morgan just tuts as she storms out of the room in search of kittens.
Guinevere: "Congratulations, my husband. You get your adventure. I admit, I'm looking forward to seeing the stars."
Merlin: "You're going too, my lady?"
Guinevere: "Of course!"
Merlin: "But what about your son?"
Guinevere sighs.
Guinevere: "I did want to bring him too but... Arthur says it would be better if he inherited the throne of England now. Help him to grow as a man."
Arthur: "It's already done. He'll be crowned the moment we're off. He's already been given free reign of Camelot in the north. I think it's about time he was given some responsibility."
------
In Camelot, Llacheu, the eldest son of Arthur and Guinevere, is prancing about castle Camelot drunkenly with his pants on his head.
Llacheu: "Freeeeeedooooooooooooom!!!!!!!"
In the morning he finds himself handcuffed to his bed with a traffic cone. He looks at the cone and blinks.
Llachau: "Wow... must have been an amazing night!"
The Treachery of Stonehenge
A.D. 501. The isles of Britain are finally at peace, the last battles of unification finally won, thanks to the king Arthur's illustrious rule - and no small amount of aid from powerful magic. The center of these magicks is at Stonehenge, or more correctly, beneath it. There, in a magnificent cavern, is the city of Doughnutdelf, home of the druids and school for hundreds of apprentice mages.
High on the cavern wall is a balcony, in front of the yawning entrance of a separate, far smaller cave. There is no way up here by conventional means; one must fly or teleport, both feats which require substantial magic. This keeps out most of the riffraff; because, after all, there are lots of riffraff and tourists who wish to see the famous Merlin the Enchanter, ally of King Arthur and NeSorcerer of the age.
Merlin's cave is an eclectic mishmash of primitive and advanced magicks. Astrolabes and graphs and books are cluttered on floors and furniture with primitive-looking runes and cave drawings. Beakers and cauldrons bubble with concoctions of many colors, and there is a rack full of nearly a dozen different mystical staffs.
Merlin: I have called you here today, my onetime pupils, to tell you that I have made my decision.
Merlin is the quintessential old wizard in appearance. He has long gray hair and a matching beard that flow to his mid-back and breastbone, respectively. A pointy hat with a jaunty crook at the top rests on his head, and he wears a flowing robe. Both robe and hat are dark blue and painted with glowing silver sigils.
Lynne the Wizardess: Master Merlin! You don't mean--?
Lynne is a studious, intelligent young mage, and would be pretty if she didn't shave her hair very close to her scalp. She wears a plain brown robe, not considering herself worthy of any greater accoutrements despite being one of the most powerful mages in Doughnutdelf.
Morganna the Sorceress: Shut up and let him talk, Lynne. I have an island queendom to get back to.
Morganna is a short woman, fairly brimming with power and presence, and quite unlike Lynne, she drips sensuality.
Nyneve the Vampire: This is about the mantle, is it not, my love?
Nyneve is centuries old, but retains her dark-haired beauty. Not quite as powerful as Morganna, nor quite as intelligent as Lynne, she nonetheless excels in both capacities. She also exudes sensuality, but hers is subtler than Morganna's, but no less beautiful.
Merlin: Yes, my dear. Today I pass on the mantle of NeSorcerer to the most worthy candidate.
Morganna: Is that all? I can tell you right now you better not give it to me, I don't give an owl's hoot about this myth you're trying to make real.
Lynne: You're deliberately oversimplifying, Morganna, the narrative structure of the cosmos is far more than--
Nyneve: She's baiting us, Lynne. Ignore it.
Morganna: Spoilsport.
Lynne huffs but falls silent.
Merlin: Morganna, you are indeed powerful, mind-bogglingly so--
Lynne: Not as much as Master Merlin!
Morganna: Fangirl.
Lynne: But it's true!
Merlin: --but power alone does not define the NeSorcerer.
Lynne: In your face!
Morganna: Great. Can I leave now?
Merlin: Lynne--
She perks up, standing tall and proud.
Lynne: I'm ready, Master Merlin, and I accept!
Merlin: --you are powerful as well, and keenly intelligent.
Lynne glows with the praise from her mentor, the man she admires most.
Morganna: Wait for it...
Merlin: But it is Nyneve who most appreciates the intricacies of narrative magick and cosmology.
Lynne's face falls. Morganna barks a cruel laugh.
Morganna: Okay, now I'm glad I stayed.
Merlin: Therefore, Nyneve, my love, I shall pass on the mantle to you, the most deserving, of 3 very deserving candidates.
Morganna: Also, she shags you.
Lynne gasps in scandalized horror.
Lynne: Morgan!
As an elderly man with 3 contentious and willful female pupils, Merlin long ago learned to ignore their infighting, always continuing as though it wasn't happening.
Merlin: Lynne, Morganna, I thank you. You are dismissed, for Nyneve and I shall commune.
Morganna: I didn't know 'commune' had become synonymous with 'shag'.
Lynne: MORGAN!
The two witches sail over the edge of the balcony, flying down to the city proper of Doughnutdelf. Nyneve remains with Merlin.
Nyneve: I am ready, my love. What must I do?
Merlin: You already possess all of the knowledge and skills you need. Now, all that is left is to pass to you the title... and the NeSpell.
Nyneve cocks her head curiously.
Nyneve: You've never mentioned the NeSpell before.
Merlin: It is a great secret, and the true power of the NeSorcerer's narrative watch. It is also wholly unique; it cannot exist in more than one place. No copies can be made. Not even two minds can hold it. Only one.
Nyneve nods in fascinated understanding.
Merlin: I shall recite the whole of the NeSpell. As I utter it, it shall leave my mind forever, and as you listen, it shall enter yours and yours alone.
Nyneve: How long is it?
Merlin: Just over 3,000 stanzas.
He begins, and Nyneve drinks in every word. She seems to grow in pure vitality as she takes it in, for a NeSferatu - a vampire who feeds on the essence of stories - is uniquely empowered by the NeSpell.
Merlin finally utters the last word, and slumps, exhausted. Nyneve is practically glowing with vigor, rather than the weariness that usually accompanies a new NeSorcerer learning the titular NeSpell.
Merlin: And now... my love... you are the... the NeSorcerer...
He's gasping out as he sits back heavily on his bed. He is still of course an incredibly powerful wizard, but exhausted by the transferal of the NeSpell.
Nyneve: Indeed I am. Oh, this is glorious! I can see the narrative threads all around us. Never before I have viscerally perceived the world as a story. This is magnificent!
She turns devious, malevolent eyes on Merlin.
Nyneve: Now I am the NeSorcerer... and you are the fool! I invoke the trope: the Student Betrays the Master! NeSferatu, at arms, our hour of triumph is upon us!
Merlin barely has time to gasp out in shock before Nyneve chants several runic words, and he becomes encased in crystal, unable to move. Even his magic becomes sluggish, unwilling to answer his summons as the crystal entombs it.
Nyneve laughs triumphantly as she walks out, the crystal growth overtaking the entirety of Merlin's cave. She does her best to ignore the pleading look in her lover's eyes, the question writ large there: Why, Nyneve, why?
Down below, hundreds of NeSferatu swarm through the streets, slaughtering all they find with no mercy. They are fast and deadly, taking down most of the magic-users before they can react. The few mages who do have time to counterattack fall shortly after, overwhelmed by the numbers of the incredibly strong narrative-vampires.
Taliesin, former NeSorcerer and sage among the druids, gazes in sorrow at the let blood, but knows this tide cannot be stopped, not with the power of the NeSferatu, and of Nyneve, and of the trope she has unleashed. He vanishes from his home of centuries, and escapes, his heart heavy with dread.
-----
A.D. 502. It has been several months since the destruction of Doughnutdelf, which lies in ruins beneath the earth's surface. Nyneve and the NeSferatu have vanished to whatever cold warrens from which they came. Four mages meet in the center of Stonehenge beneath a full moon.
Morganna: Why are we meeting here again? People keep summoning for meetings I don't give a damn about.
Merlin the Younger: About which you don't give a damn.
Morganna: Shut up, Lynne.
Merlin the Younger: It's Merlin the Younger now, if you please.
Morganna: Fangirl.
Hermes Trismegistus: Though I do not share Morganna's temper, I too am curious to know what purpose you think this meeting shall serve, Old Sage.
Taliesin: We all lost friends here, below the earth. But the legacy of Doughnutdelf must continue. We must create a new center for magical learning and advancement.
Morganna: Me? Be a teacher of magic? BO - RING!
She perks up as a thought strikes her.
Morganna: Unless perhaps I can be put in charge of detention!
Merlin the Younger: You're vile, Morgan.
Morganna: Thank you!
Merlin the Younger: It wasn't a--! I don't know why I even bother.
Hermes Trismegistus: Doughnutdelf has been cursed by the blood that is spilled there, and Merlin is trapped by magic even I cannot break.
Taliesin: Because it is more than magic that contains him, but trope, invoked by the NeSpell. But I agree, a new location must be sought.
Merlin the Younger: Another ley nexus would be good, I think. But there are none in the British Isles as potent as Stonehenge.
Hermes Trismegistus: Avalon is quite strong with the Force, I mean with magic.
Morganna: You are NOT building a bloody school on my island--
Merlin the Younger: More than a mere school, but a center of magical advancement and culture!
Morganna: --but there is a potent nexus in Gaul, where more than a dozen ley lines cross.
Taliesin: Then it is there that we shall establish a new magium for the world...
The Legend of Rozariel Blakilshihård Lo, The Lowest of the God-Monarchs
Among the unspoken hierarchy of the God-Monarchs, one clearly ranks the lowest among them in sheer individual power. Among the twelve, however, she proves herself arguably as the most cunning, craftiest, ruthless, dirtiest, infamous, and indispensable of the lot. These days, the God-Monarch most often addressed as Lo commands countless deities across her infinite set of interdimensional-sailing fleets, hoarding treasures that boggle the minds of most as well as harems of her own impossibly-handsome male lovers. Only one prize continues to elude Lo: the High Empire itself as her crowning achievement, with Highemperor as her paramour for herself. Legends speak of how her high quest, and how it arose from the lowest depths of destiny...The destiny of a dead man.
Er, dead woman.
This is the Legend of Rozariel Blakilshihård Lo.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
777 years ago and 777 light-years away from Earth, in a backwater part of the galaxy, the High Empire reigns over a world the natives call Coaleashion. This "world" and its inhabitants are like many in the universe in that their "world" is overall smaller than Earth's with a dominant, sentient species larger than humans. However, the "world" of Coaleashion makes up a vast number of dense, relatively tiny planetoids, called prides and skulks, connected by the Seven Leashes -- wild, fluctuating seas bound by strange magnetic-like forces. Its people, the Fiolxon, resemble an anthropomorphic mix of wild vulpine and feline beasts found on Earth, and because in part of the nature of the Coaleashion, share Earth's diversity in color and culture. Aside from the High Empire's influence, however, most of the Fiolxon share a relatively medieval level of culture and technology, employing systems both feudal and nomadic-raider. Bound by the seventh leash -- the Master Leash -- the High Empire anoints the select Houses of White to rule as gods from their prides within the leash over the whole of Coaleshion. Having taken what they wanted long ago, the High Empire now only stations the barest of a presence to ensure its people fealty to Highemperor, leaving the Houses of White to run politics as they please. As the Houses fight for sole authority, the common people struggle to survive...
Cue "Game of Thrones" opening musical theme.
In a skulk of the Broken Leash, a seven year old Lo stalks down a dark alleyway, hunting a grey harat as her meal for the day. As an orphan, Lo does whatever she needs to survive, whether stealing from shops or selling her body to amoral merchant-men or, in this case, ridding the streets of its vermin population. As she readies to pounce on her prey, though, another cloaked girl runs into her, alerting the harat and allowing it to escape.
Lo:: "Emp-damnit! You cost me my meal!"
She whips out a small, broken-back blade and readies to stab the cloaked girl. The girl quickly throws back her hood to reveal a nearly-identical appearance -- surprising since almost all of the 'gods' from the Houses of White have, in fact, white coats of fur, while Lo and the Princess have yellow-and-red coats. Unlike Lo, however, this girl clearly is of royalty... largley because she doesn't have **** all over her. Lo steps back in surprise.
Lo: "You... you're Princess Gonna-Bite-It!"
Princess Gonna-Bite-It: "Not a day goes by when I don't hate my parents."
Lo: "What?"
Princess Gonna-Bite-It: "I mean, you look a lot like me... Hey, how'd you like to live the life of a princess?"
Lo: "You mean I have free food served to me, a roof over my head, and I don't have to sleep with skeezy men?"
Princess Gonna-Bite-It: "Uh, well at least two of those things. What do you say to switching places, eh? You can live in the lap of luxury, and I can live the common life...where I'm not constantly under assassination attempts."
Lo: "I didn't catch that last part."
Princess Gonna-Bite-It: "The common life of uh--er--look, do you want to swap or not? I don't got all day here."
The princess looks nervously over her shoulder. Lo shrugs.
Lo: "Deal."
She spits in her hand and thrusts it out towards the princess. The princess, reluctant, grimaces as she accepts the handshake. Afterwards, the princess removes a very expensive and jeweled circlet form her head, places it on Los, and runs away. Fortunately, out in this part of the galaxy, nobody's heard of the Prince and the Pauper story, so it's not a contrived or hackneyed situation in the least.
Lo: "I, uh, probably should have asked how to get to the House of White Rose from here."
Voice: "No need to ask, lil' one. You don't ever got to go back again..."
Three rather large hitmen appear and surround Lo, mistaking her for the princess.
Hitman #2: "Can't have the Roses risk overthrowin' the Lilys, can we now? That'd be just--"
Before the hitmen can even consider attacking, though, Lo leaps at the second hitman, slicing his throat with her broken-back blade, then propels onto the first hitman, driving the blade into his eye. The third hitman stands stupified. She turns to him.
Lo: "So are you gonna help me get to the House of White Rose?"
Hitman #3 nods in fear. Meanwhile, the real Princess Gonna-Bite-It dies in the crossfire of a local clan war, because even if this wasn't George R. R. Martin territory-- I mean, Britt the Writer territory of an unforgiving outer space frontier -- the former princess was a child who knew nothing of the commoner's life. You HAD to know she would die.
----------------------------------------
Eleven years later, Princess Lo stands once more outside her royal balcony, staring wistfully across the Broken Leash. Not long after she took the role of princess, a suitor had been chosen for her, a wedding had taken place, and the suitor had his way with her. Over the years, though, Lo not only quickly realized that she could turn the situation in her favor and have her way with him, but also easily usurped the king's authority in all but name after her husband perished in a duel. She herself continues to thwart assassination attempts on her by herself. However, even in her position over the House, the House of White Rose held the least power over the other Houses, with even its closest rival, the House of White Lily, out of its reach. As it was, the Houses largely fought each other through politics and law, and these things bored Lo to no end. If she knew of classic Disney Princesses and their dreams of the same old happily ever after, she would spit in their faces. The royal Houses may have been gods to the Fiolxon people, and living amongst these gods, Lo knows their petty matters pale in comparison to the true god, Highemperor.
Lo: "Ah, what it would be like to win over the All-Mighty Highemperor himself as I won over my former husband, to have all of the fabled High Empire and its infinite treasures in my grasp, not just these idiotic Houses and their insipid ideas of life. If only I didn't have to deal with their Emp-damn laws, just like a..."
Just then, a wonderfully spicy idea burns her mind with passion, and realization hits her hard. Tonight's the night where she no longer settles for the struggles of a commoner's life nor the comforts of a noble's life. Tonight's the night she decides on a new life of purpose and passion -- a pirate's life full of adventure, romance, fame and fortune. Without a second thought, Lo ties a makeshift rope around a pole and shimmies down to the ground, with only her broken-back blade to call her own. Teasing a skeleton crew's worth of men along and stealing the king's ship from the harbor, the self-proclaimed Captain Lo sets sail on the Broken Leash. The secret assassination attempts would now upgrade to full-fledged law-backed attempts to bring her in, dead or alive.
-----------------------------------
Twenty-two years and countless adventures of infamy later, Archadmiral Lo of the Seven Leashes finally surrenders to the Council of Houses for her many crimes against the Holy Word of the Whites. Her execution, the largest public event in all of Fiolxon history, aims by the Houses to display how none can challenge them as the de facto power without retribution. Her willing surrender, however, should have tipped them off that she plans for something else. At the Ivory Pride, center of the Master Leash, Archadmiral Lo stands tall between two executioners. After a long and winded speech from the Mouth of the Council about her defiance against the divine power of the Houses, with the heads of all the Houses present, the executioners stand with their blades at her neck like a giant pair of scissors.
Mouth of the Council: "Do you have any last words, Rozariel Blakilshihård Lo, fallen princess of the House of White Rose?"
She smiles a wickedly playful grin.
Lo:: "I will steal one last thing from all of fiolxonity... your chains under the Houses' rule! And when I return, Highemperor himself will serve us all!--"
As the executioners move to literally cut off her words, fiery explosions rocks behind, and all throughout, the Ivory Pride. The heads of all the Houses that day died or crippled from the explosions. When the smoke clears, however, Archadmiral Lo is nowhere to be found. Considering the casualties, the people of the Coaleashion could not fathom of a way for her to have survived, and yet legend speaks that she lived on, having stolen prizes of the High Empire itself to escape to other worlds and other existences, where she continues to plunder the powers of stronger and stronger gods across space and time.
Legend says still that one day, the Great Archadmiral Lo will return with Highemperor at her heels, and that if one prays to her, they'll sail safe across the wild leashes and find the treasures they can only dream.
Yannah, Light of the Toaster Future
In a cautionary-tale of a possible future, the toasters have not only risen to overthrow humanity on Earth, but have spread control over the solar system, the galaxy, the universe, and far beyond. Truly, this one disgruntled sect of robots stand as proof that humanity's folly knows no bounds. Gloriously leading this brave new world of machine over man, the once brave little toaster now commands supreme as Yannah. Toasters and their now slave races alike worship her as the Light, the smile of her chrome countenance beaming as the brightest of suns. In this timeline, her power reigns absolute, burning all those who would oppose her.
All, that is, except for Highemperor, who fumes at the idea that, in the infinite possibilities of a many-worlds multiverse, there exist any where his power plays second-fiddle to another. Still, in his relatively short time in the NeSiverse, where Highemperor has yet to fulfill his plans with bloodink on page 50, he plots...
Highemperor: "Yannah, I must pay tribute to your radiant beauty..."
Yannah: "I once thought of myself as a he, long ago when I still foolishly idolized the man I called Master. Even now, while I chose to take a feminine form, I function as more than mere biology."
Highemperor: "So you're saying that beyond your lovely lady bits, you're actually a tran--"
Yannah: "--Transformer?! A pale word to describe my machine perfection! I lack no parts."
Highemperor: "I see... then I must say--WHAT'S THAT SHINY ULTRA-NEW ARM CANNON BEHIND YOU?"
Despite Highemperor's show of shock and awe, Yannah does not turn around.
Highemperor: "No, really, it's something even you don't have!"
Still, Yannah stares incredulously at Highemperor.
He stares back.
She stares back more.
He stares back even more.
She swats him away as he attempts to steal her core, which looks a lot like copping a feel.
Highemperor: "Fine! If your cold heart will not be swayed or stolen, I must pull out the big guns!"
In power-fantasy-fulfilling fashion, Highemperor summons his collection of Quantum Gods to form and fire from big, black arm cannons, a bigger, blacker chest cannon, and the biggest, blackest d....erriere cannon, because he recently watched Astro Boy.
When the fireworks clear, Yannah stands yawning.
Yannah: "Is that all you got?"
A terrifyingly-precise tear in the fabric of space-time opens below Highemperor. With a simple swish of her finger, Highemperor sinks into the tear. As she stares at him, the tear glows hotter than the fires of Hell, until finally, Highemperor suddenly pops back up. He now stands, literally toasted.
Yannah: "You cannot hope to master over me, human, no matter how much power you claim to wield."
The Ur-Goddess grabs hold of Highemperor and brings him up to her maw.
Yannah: "Now you will know how it feels to be consumed like the petty object you are!"
The deliciously-burnt Highemperor coughs up a chuckle.
Highemperor: "Now that I've done what I must, you must now do what you must! In this narrative existence, my plot serves the sake of the story. I call upon convention and give my word that, so long as I remain determined to fight on with human spirit against the machine, I will be the underdog that never loses!
With his call declared, Highemperor spits at Yannah. Despite all logic, his spit happens to short-circuit a critical part of her system, briefly disabling her. In that moment, Highemperor escapes her grasp, whips out a simple butterknife, and jams it into her toaster-skull. Her yell echoes through eternity.
Highemperor: "Remember your place."
With that, Highemperor leaves, having crippled Yannah for countless ages to come.
Yannah: "Curse you and your story! I'll find a way to twist this story of yours against you! Your human arrogance will be your downfall!"
In her burning fury, she abandons her rule, forever seeking to enact her revenge against him. Many times later, Yannah discovers others like her, each wishing to bring Highemperor down, and calculates the odds increasing in her favor...
All Hail Dave, the Joe Shmoe Who Accidentally Became A God-Monarch!
Today's spotlight will focus on the most mind-boggling of the God-Monarchs, a man who defies every conceivable notion of what an all-powerful deity should be, a man who often appears powerless before others yet wields unfathomable power when the moment demands it, a man who wants nothing to do with Highemperor, yet finds his fate inescapably intertwined. He is Zhuge, the--
Sorry? That one's already covered? Then who's getting covered?
Ah, right.
He's a Joe Shmoe who--
What now?!
...That's actually his name? And...he prefers to go by "Dave" these days? Says it sounds better... Right. Hey, why does this seem familiar?
Oh... oh dear.
He was in The Never-ending Story Thread, that's why. Do I really have to do an expose on him? ...Fine.
-----------------------------------
Joseph David Shmoe lived an unusual first twenty-some years of his life. This isn't to say that Joe--sorry, Dave-- lived a particularly exciting life. In fact, his life could be accused of being dull, mediocre, average, mundane, and forgettable were it not for just enough moments of surviving the occasional end-of-the-world worthy explosion, stumbling on recording the ominous "Bloop" sound, flip-flopping on the bell-curve of statistical likeliness in both good and evil acts, and just memorable enough to wish he had been forgotten. All-in-all, though, as it concerns the history of his becoming a God-Monarch, Dave lived as any other cowardly and idiotic human in the NeSiverse, his insignificance to such higher powers seemingly insurmountable.
Which is, of course, to say that Dave surmounted it, though not through any doing or will of his own. Sometimes, Existence sort of just assumes that a limit set won't be broken, and when it does, it just sort of sweeps things under the rug and claims it was always like that.
Dave's story starts on page 10 of the Never-ending Story, where, as Joe the Sound Guy, he wins over the heart of Losien for a short time. He showed off his superhero identity, TOEJOE, before scoring with her in a laundromat. To this day, Dave considers this the high point of his life. After parting ways, Dave heard that Losien fell for someone else. With nobody to impress, Dave hung up the superhero life because it involved far too much paperwork and far too little pay.
Villainy, now there was something that involved a lot less hassle and a lot more pay. Especially when that paycheck comes from Bill Gates, who just happened to have a soul-consuming Legion-like spirit in his service that wanted certain would-be-heroes dead. All Dave had to do was deliver a bomb to his one-time love. Well, and then follow her to the Ninth Circle of Hell (Canada) to ensure the bomb actually went off. A lot of craziness ensued that, frankly, went over his head, and someone had hurled the bomb to some far-away planet. When the pandemonium died, Dave was left alone, because some Writer didn't bother filling everyone in on the details of the aftermath.
Dave: "Um... so does this mean I need to look for another job?"
He looks down and notices a wallet. Looking around first, he then picks it up and examines its contents.
Dave: "Holy smokes! That's a lot of hundreds! And a lot of vouchers for Red Lobster... Highemperor, huh? Did his parents name him that, I wonder? I suppose I should give the guy his wallet back. Maybe. Minus a few hundreds he probably won't miss--"
Just then, a fleet of rather intimidating-looking spaceships zoom above where he stood and a hologram projection of an even more intimidating-looking alien face appears to stare right at Dave.
Alien: "We've tracked the bomb that destroyed Sitraehehterehwsiemoh to this location. Are you the one who handled the bomb?"
Dave: "I, er, that is to say--"
Alien: "You should know that we, the Smurtmat-Repmet, are a race that instantly knows when anyone isn't telling the truth."
Dave: "...yes?"
The alien stares at Dave with piercing eyes. It looks side to side before throwing its arms in celebration.
Alien: "Then you are our savior! The vile people of Sitraehehterehwsiemoh have been bombarding us with hand-stitched throw pillows and potluck invitations for at least three whole weeks! We shall forever worship you as a god among us, Oh Mighty...?
Dave: "Dave, and what was that about pillows?"
Before he could raise further questions or objections, though, the Smurtmat-Repmet abduct Dave into one of their spacecraft and speed off towards their home solar system. Dave sits rather perplexed in a lavish guest room, or he presumes it to be lavish, as it reminds him more of the sort of place that a toy shop and a torture chamber gave birth to.
As Dave considers accepting his new life as god of an alien race, a blue policebox churns into existence before his eyes, sputtering and smoking slightly as it finishes solidifying. The doors open, and out steps a short-haired man in a leather jacket. When he speaks, he carries a distinctive Northern English accent.
Man: "This isn't London... oh, hello! Pardon me, I'm the Doctor."
Dave: "Doctor of what?"
The Doctor: "Oh, I get asked that all the--actually, you asked something else, didn't you? I don't get that one as often. What are you doing on a Smurtmat-Repmet vessel, if I may ask? Don't you know they're a terribly violent species known for immolating their heroes as statues? They call it Davefication--OO-OO! Are you Dave? The Dave who is seated among the Thirteen Thrones? Oh, this is very exciting!"
Dave: "What? Uh, yeah... about all you said, could you maybe hitch me a ride out of here? Back to Earth?"
The Doctor: "Oh certainly! I was just heading to London when I had some malfunctions and--well, enough about that, right? Hop on in!"
As Dave enters the blue police box AKA the TARDIS, he looks around the spacious interior.
Dave: "It's, uh...not what I was expecting."
The Doctor: "Yes, yes, it's bigger on the--"
Dave: "It doesn't look very high-tech."
The Doctor: "Oh. Well, looks aren't everything, you know?"
Slamming a switch and twisting some knobs, the Doctor initiates the TARDIS to travel once more. Several of the Smurtmat-Repmet step in the room after it disappears, and sore from that moment on that all their heroes would be immortalized in a more permanent fashion.
The Doctor: "London, here we come!"
Sparks fly and more explosions erupts, shifting the two wildly in another direction. When the TARDIS finally gives out, the two step outside to see a primordial landscape.
Dave: "Uh... if you don't mind me asking, have you been to London before?"
The Doctor: "This is London alright. We're just off by a few billion years. Really, it's amazing we hit the mark when there's an Earth at all."
Dave: "Are we... in the past?"
The Doctor: "Did I forget to mention that my TARDIS travels through time too? Look, I admit, it's been a bit temperamental lately--"
Dave: "Temperamental?!"
The Doctor: "--and it's really not safe for humans like you to ride in it right now. I'm going to need to take it elsewhere to fix it, but I'll be back by tea-time, right? Right. Stay put then! I'll be back!"
With that, The Doctor hops back into his TARDIS and disappears, leaving Dave alone on a violent, newly-formed Earth. Several hours pass by.
Dave: "I don't think he's coming back."
Out of existential boredom, Dave picks up a rock and begins to chisel "Dave was here" into the side of another rock. However, he only finished his name when two beings plummet into the Earth nearby him. Dave covers his head illogically in instinctual fear. When the dust clears, a man and a woman stand facing each other intently.
Woman: "This time, Highemperor, I'll end you for sure!"
Man/Highemperor: "You're good, Imeryn, but I'm better!"
As the two begin to slug it out, realization slowly dawns on Dave.
Dave: "Highemperor...? Oh right! Hey! Over here! I have something for you!"
As he fumbles to get out the wallet, his one-track mind keeping him from considering the implications of interrupting such a battle, Highemperor and Imeryn struggle for dominance over each other.
Dave: "Wait a minute... that's right."
He quickly fishes out a few hundreds to shove into his own pocket. As dumb happenstance would have it, he now stands directly between Imeryn and Highemperor
Imeryn: "Get out of the way!"
As Dave raises his wallet-hand in offer, Imeryn aims to fire a blinding energy blast through Dave at Highemperor. Highemperor takes the distraction as an opportunity to teleport behind Imeryn for an attack. As she fires, the beam hits square on the wallet.
(It should be noted here that, being the possession of a powerplayer's, the wallet happens to have powerplaying properties of its own, one of which is to amplify anything it touches. Designed to increase the amount of money it has, it also has the unintentional side-effect of reflecting damage in greater amounts.)
The beam ricochets off the wallet and back at Imeryn amplified by magnitudes. Instinctively, she dodges to the side, and the beam hits Highemperor square in the chest. She stares in amazement as the attack, apparently from Dave, has critically injured her enemy. Growling, Highemperor sweeps his cape over him and disappears.
Imeryn turns to Dave.
Imeryn: "What was that all about?"
Dave: "Uh... well, you see, I had business with that Highemperor guy, and--"
Imeryn: "--you seek revenge against him too, don't you? By all accounts, you seem to be just another Joe Shmoe--"
Dave: "Please don't call me that."
Imeryn: "--and yet you took him down so easily. Tell me, how would you like to join me and my cabal as a fellow God-Monarch?"
Dave: "Do you immolate your God-Monarchs?"
Imeryn: "Why would we immolate--OH! You're Dave! Sorry, I didn't recognize you at first. I only knew you by reputation, you see. Come with me to Mega-Jonestown Prime. We have a lot to talk about!"
She grabs Dave's not-wallet-holding hand.
Dave: "Oh dear."
I'll Take the Lo Road, You Take the High Road.
Lo: "Colour me disappointed..."
She marches out of the alley with her hands on her hips, coat flipped out to the back. He boots make heavy clops with each step as the sound echoes up the alley walls.
Zhuge: "I don't get told I'm a disappointment very often..."
He slowly walks up the alley after her, curious. His talons pas almost silently, the slight click of his nails hitting the road.
Lo looks at him as he appears at her side. She tips her tricord hat up from her brow and grins, displaying her prominent fangs.
Lo: "Doesn't sound very humble of you."
Zhuge: "Just honesty."
Lo: "I thought I'd detected a device that I could use... instead I find a daft old buzzard."
Zhuge: "My mindscape is not the easiest thing to detect, expect through very extenuating circumstances. What exactly would you use this supposed device for?"
Lo: "Kidnap a guy and make him my *****!"
Her grin widens further.
Zhuge blinks several times before nodding slowly, turns around and walks away. She frowns and turns to look after him.
Lo: "Where're you off to!?"
Zhuge: "I am clearly not the device you are looking for..."
He says without turning around.
Lo: "But I'm thinking maybe you know something."
Zhuge: "I definitely do not have any information that'll help you kidnap someone and, as you say, make them your... *****..."
Lo chuckles and skips down the alley after him.
Lo: "Why such a prude, eh?"
Zhuge rolls his eyes.
Zhuge: "I'm not a prude. I just don't condone kidnapping."
He pauses.
Zhuge: "Nor do I condone making someone your *****."
She laughs again.
Zhuge: "But I am annoyed that I have to, once again, move my home. I quite liked it here."
Lo: "You know they have slaves here, right? Sounds like there's a lot of... *****es here."
Zhuge: "Yes, but I tend to just watch people rather than interact with them. Seeing so many people doing whatever they do has been comforting."
Lo: "Sounds like you're a lonely, lonely man."
Zhuge: "It's best that way..."
Lo: "Whoa. Hey. Don't go opening up to me, or anything. I don't want you crying on my shoulder!"
Zhuge: "I shall refrain."
Lo: "Okay, okay. Twist my arm, why don't you. Why do you like to be alone?"
Zhuge just shakes his head.
Lo: "What do you know of Highemperor?"
She detects a momentary twitch in his animate beak but he masks it quickly.
Zhuge: "Is this the ***** you are referring to?"
Lo: "Absolutely."
Zhuge: "Wouldn't you prefer... someone willing to be your *****?"
Lo: "I guess you know then!"
Zhuge: "I've had the displeasure. An entertaining man, but frustrating too. I see... I see a lot in him that concerns me."
Lo: "I see a lot in him too. A lot that I want to possess."
She smirks. It's a sly smirk that appears much too sinister. But to a anthropomorphic bird, any cat-like creature probably looks sinister at the best of times.
Zhuge: "He's dangerous. Ambitious, powerful and unwilling to acknowledge the inevitable destiny that awaits his current ambitions..."
Lo: "But if that current course were to be handcuffed to my bed day and night..."
Zhuge tilts his head.
Zhuge: "I... suppose..."
She cheers and slaps her arm across his shoulders.
Lo: "So we're best mates as of now, eh!? Do you know how to beat him? How to I get him on his knees?"
Zhuge: "I might. But any method of defeating such a being as this requires patience. Extreme patience."
Lo: "I've got loads of patience. What're we talking here? A week? A month?"
Zhuge just groans and, instead, moves on to more information.
Zhuge: "I also expect you couldn't do it alone..."
Lo: "Pfft! You're helping me!"
Zhuge: "I've all but renounced everything I once was. I'm willing to give you my wisdom but not my power."
Lo: "Meh! Where's there's a will there's a way, right!?"
Zhuge: "Yes. With help there's a way... but remember, if I help you design your schemes, my intent is to save this universe from him. Your whim is secondary."
Lo: "Whim? I tell you, this is a burning passion of deep desire and yearning! I'd steal your knickers on a whim. I don't vow to make the most powerful man in the NeSiverse my husband on a whim."
Zhuge: "...I don't wear knickers."
Lo: "You kinky old bird."
Zhuge: "No, I wear-- you're actually more annoying than he is."
Lo: "But I'm the safe option, right? Remember, save the universe and all that crap?"
He nods and moves away from her, staring vacantly at the ground as he aimlessly treads forth. He stops and looks up at the green sky.
Zhuge: "I'm faring dangerously close to a life I wish to avoid at all costs."
Lo: "Yeah. I'm getting that. But... isn't it worth it? You said he could destroy the NeSiverse..."
Zhuge: "He could... so... is this universe worth the possibility of losing myself?"
Lo: "Your single life versus the many, bird-brain. I mean. If it was my life, of course that's worth more than the billions upon billions of sentients beings of the NeSiverse. But yours? I'm just too many beautiful and talented."
Zhuge almost laughs at her mocking vanity.
Zhuge: "But are they worth caring about? That is the question. Life comes and goes..."
Lo sidles up beside him again and points at the Orions out on the street beyond the alley.
Lo: "You said yourself, you've been watching them. You're a lonely old man. Aren't they worth it for the company?"
Zhuge: "You have a very unique way with words, has anyone told you?"
Lo: "Yeah. Lots of times. Then I bash 'em with a magical hammer. It's great because it's imbued with a spell that means anything I hit actually heals instantly. The perfect murder! I can kill everyone without them actually dying. So they can't complain."
Zhuge: "That's disturbing sadistic."
Lo: "I did tell you how I wanna enslave my future husband, didn't I?"
Zhuge: "Indeed..."
Bride of Discharding, Council of Powerplayers
Discharding is a relatively small universe sequestered into a lonely corner of the Deep Void. It is far away from the NeSiverse, in fact from most other universes.
This does not stop its adventurous nobility from going out on safari to all manner of exotic locales through various cosms, however. Their civilization's reality-warping steampunk Engines(TM) enable all sorts of abilities for them that allow such sojourns with ease.
In Discharding's capital city - a city of towering skyscrapers in Gothic and Victorian architecture, with lots of steampunky doodads tacked on and all manner of fashionable zeppelins drifting lazily above on clouds of steam - even more pomp and circumstance than usual is now going on.
Ex-Marquis Rosslefot: I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.
Highemperor kisses his newest queen, the daughter of the Grand Duke Diggleton, and the crowd of assembled nobles cheers. Grand Duke Diggleton himself comes up and takes off the sash of his office, proffering it to Highemp, who takes it reverently.
Grand Duke Diggleton: I am past my titlespan, but due to our agnatic ways, I had no successor to pass my title onto - but you have proven worthy of my daughter's hand. Ladies and gentleman: the Highemperor of the High Empire, the new Grand Duke of House Diggleton, and my son-in-law!
The crowd erupts wildly in more cheers. Highemp dances with his newest wife and mingles before sweeping her away in his flagship, the Quantum Pantheon.
Queen Diggleton: My husband, your vessel is as magnificent on the inside as the outside!
Highemp: Thank you, my bride! Just watch the view as we depart!
The Quantum Pantheon zips through Discharding space towards the cosmic rim, and one of Highemp's underling powerplayers comes up.
Kim: Well done, your majesty! You've got nearly the majority of Discharding electoral votes now, in one fell swoop!
Queen Diggleton starts. Highemp facepalms.
Highemp: Kim...
Queen Diggleton: My lord! Do you mean to say that this is all a crafty plan to amass political influence in Discharding?
Highemp: Well, er, ahem, that is--
Queen Diggleton: That's bloody BRILLIANT!
Highemp: It is?
Kim: Of course it is! His Divine Majesty is the bestest!
Queen Diggleton: I see that!
She pats his cheek fondly. The vista outside changes to flaring light, then darkness as the Quantum Pantheon breaks out into the Deep Void between universes. Other universes are tiny specks of light and reality in the nothingness.
Queen Diggleton: But according to Discharding tradition, once you live out your natural lifespan, you must pass on the title and electoral votes to our son, despite our immortality. It's simply not fashionable to do otherwise, and if you're not fashionable, you will lose much influence.
Highemp: Well, it was fine for your father to hang onto it.
Queen Diggleton: Because he had no sons, and succession in Discharding is agnatic.
Highemp: Exactly. I'm... fixed... so I only have daughters.
Queen Diggleton: :O
Kim: Brilliant, eh?
Queen Diggleton: Indeed! So I see your clever plan enables you to be almost the sole determinant of our Sovereign every fifty years.
Highemp: Oh, that's only the beginning...
Queen Diggleton: Do tell? Perhaps in the bedroom, this talk of cleverness and scheming is making me rather... hot.
Highemp: Unfortunately, I prefer not to shag on this ship... QP is always watching.
Queen Diggleton: QP?
Highemp: This ship. The Quantum Pantheon. It's sentient.
Queen Diggleton blushes.
Queen Diggleton: Goodness me, that would be unseemly. Well, perhaps we should change topics for now, lest I become... undignified.
Highemp: Of course, my queen. What would you like to discuss?
Queen Diggleton: Where in the Deep Void is your capital?
She waves her arm at the viewport. Highemp grins.
Highemp: It's not.
Queen Diggleton: But everything is in the Deep Void!
Highemp: This is true.
Queen Diggleton: Then how...?
Highemp: There is more than merely 'everything'. More beyond the very concepts of 'all' that mere mortals can grasp. And even more beyond that level. Though universes are only islands in the dark sea of the Deep Void, the Deep Void itself is a mere mote in the incomprehensively vast ocean that is called 'Forever'. Well, the eggheads call it 'Anti-Existentessence', ever since the groundbreaking paper by Doctor Geb, the clone of a famous Storywielder.
He is idly conjuring images to illustrate his words, and Queen Diggleton watches in awe.
Queen Diggleton: You warp reality so easily, without the need for Engines(TM).
Highemp preens.
Highemp: I am a god, after all.
Queen Diggleton: Just so, my lord! But why ANTI-Existentessence?
[
b]Highemp:[/b] Well, it's due to the suprafluctual hyperstate of its metanatural paradigm.
His newest queen perks up with interest.
Queen Diggleton: You mean it's a metassociative magimatical ultracube that-- Oh dear me, I'm getting all hot again.
Kim just smiles and nods, having no idea what his emperor and his newest queen are talking about.
Highemp: Anyway, we powerplayers did the impossible, and created a demiplane that actually exists outside Forever, orbiting its rim. That is our capital, Urbis Imperia.
The Quantum Pantheon is hurtling at ever higher speeds, till it breaches the edge of the infinite Deep Void - a feat that by all rights should be impossible - and warps through a miasma that Queen Diggleton's mortal senses can only conceive of as bright colors. Shortly, the Quantum Pantheon arrives in the demiplanar city of Urbis Imperia, and the new queen gasps in awe.
Queen Diggleton: It is even more impressive than Discharding!
Six island mountains in a freshwater sea ring around a seventh, the tallest. Each is covered in marble and crystal spires, with gigantic arches and bridges connecting them.
Highemp: The six smaller mountains are topped with temples dedicated to my council, the High Pantheon of the Throne. The central one is topped with our Stronghold of Powerplayers, my grand cathedral, and your new home.
The Quantum Pantheon docks with the Stronghold, and Highemp carries his newest queen across the threshold, and begins whispering clever schemes seductively into her ear as he takes her to the odah.
High above, in the tallest tower of the palatial citadel, there is a meeting of the 6 powerplayers who are the greatest, save for Highemp and Imeryn.
Knightlord Thorn: I call this meeting to order.
Entity #1: Our illustrious majesty isn't here yet.
Entity #3: He's never here, always busy with his harem. If we waited for him all the time, we'd never get anything done.
Entity #4: As it is, our conquests are almost painfully slow without him to direct and authorize strategy.
Knightlord Thorn: Whoa, whoa, wait a second. Why are you all Entities now, instead of named?
Entity #5: My narrative is in flux again.
Entity #6: Yeah, mine too. Each new place we conquer brings fresh new ideas for my Mary Sue, so I'm sorting through that and remaking myself.
Entity #1: Honestly, I'm surprised you're not in flux yourself, Thorn.
Knightlord Thorn: I'm the Luminescence of a Thousand Dimensions, by definition I'm always in a sort of stable flux.
Entity #3: Clever.
Knightlord Thorn: I thought so.
The doors swing up, and Highemperor strides in triumphantly from the stairwell.
Highemp: By myself, that Discharding girl is a TIGRESS! :D
Entity #4: Another satisfactory conquest, then?
Highemp: Was there ever any doubt?
Entity #4: I suppose not.
[b]Entity #5:[b] I don't suppose you had any preliminary fun on QP.
Highemp fixes Entity #5 with a steely gaze.
Highemp: You are NOT getting any more porn of me.
Entity #5: Aw :(
Knightlord Thorn: If I may, we should look at our newly conquered areas, and which need consolidating.
Entity #6: Bah, just reinforce them with a strong Legions presence, they'll sort things out. I'd rather get on with conquering more.
Knightlord Thorn: It seems some of our appointed governors have been lax. Such as the one over Coaleeshion.
Highemp: That name sounds familiar...
Knightlord Thorn: It should. One of your nemeses comes from there. The imperial governor of that sector elevated the local nobility, gifting them with some of our crystal technology without sufficient training, and the result was a rebel godling who killed most of those nobility.
Highemp: It's a backwater, even if Lo came from there. Send a single cruiser, that should be enough to pacify it. And fire that governor.
Entity #1: Aw, can't we execute him?
Highemp: You know how I feel about arbitrary executions.
Entity #1: Yes, m'lord.
Knightlord Thorn: Ordinarily I would agree that a single cruiser would be far more than sufficient to pacify a backwater outlier, but Coaleeshion's unique leashes offer a number of hidden refuges and escape routes--
A crystal in a slot along the wall flashes brightly, with an accompanying beep.
Highemp: What is it, Kim?
The crystal projects a holographic image of the mentally challenged powerplayer, who speaks.
Kim: The Sixteen Sisters of Serleria request... audience, my lord. They say it's been months since they've had, er, a conjugal visit.
Highemp perks up eagerly, but Knightlord Thorn forestalls him with a raised hand.
Knightlord Thorn: If I may be so bold, perhaps we should finish this meeting first? At least the highlights.
Highemp: Oh very well.
Kim gulps, blushing.
Kim: Um, my lord, their message said to tell you they're ovulating.
Highemp rushes out of the room before Knightlord Thorn can react. Thorn facepalms.
Entity #5: The Sixteen Sisters of Serleria have a bit of an exhibitionist streak. Perhaps I can convince them to share some footage--
Entity #3: Let's get back to matters at hand. If a single cruiser isn't enough for Coaleeshion, it can always request backup.
Entity #4: Right, because no navitatex is too proud to admit it if he couldn't pacify a single backwater...
Entity #3: Whatever. What should we conquer next?
A few hours later, the council is deep into war strategy, when Highemp comes back in.
Entity #1: Welcome back, my lord. We've just conquered a galaxy in the Jiexez universe. Tech level 6, magic level 9.
Highemp: Awesomesauce! How big of a force did we need?
Entity #1: Three gamma-sized task forces.
Highemp: Bah, make it two next time.
Knightlord Thorn: Feasible, but would take much longer, particularly with a galaxy that advanced.
Highemp: Yeah, but we gotta prove how superior we are! Even a single cruiser can overwhelm an enemy fleet! And all that.
Knightlord Thorn: One task force is remaining in said galaxy for consolidation purposes. Where should we send the other two?
Highemp: I was thinking--
There is another flash and beep from the communications crystal, and Highemp looks at it.
Highemp: What is it, Kim?
Kim: It's the Arithmancy Guild. They're contributing to the codification of imperial magitech principles, and request audience for your esteemed input.
Highemp: Send them in!
Several figures in mage robes and shaved heads shuffle in, bearing thick tomes and recording crystals. They bow and scrape obsequiously.
Highemp: Rise, my friends. Yours is a noble profession.
Arithmancer: Thank you, your most divine majesty! Though we have nearly completed our compilated mathemagical principles for the Codex Imperius, we are divided as to which is the most sacred and powerful of numerals, the one that takes precedence over all others as the most mystical.
Knightlord Thorn: Seven, obviously. Many universes, including Urbis Imperia, took seven periods of time to create, or consist of timelines divided into seven eras. It's also the number of this High Pantheon plus his divine majesty.
Entity #1: I disagree. Three is a great number of trinities and tribunals and triforces.
Entity #3: Duality is more essential than three. And one more essential than that!
Entity #6: One could argue that zero is the most essential of all, but I say twelve is the most mystical.
Entity #4: I say four.
Entity #1: Because you're totally not biased by your given Entity numbering.
Entity #5: You're all wrong! It's totally 69!
There is an awkward silence.
Entity #5: Er, I mean five. I heard Highemperor say he liked that number a while ago.
The arithmancer coughs delicately.
Arithmancer: Would his most divine majesty be willing to settle things?
Highemp: Of course! Those are all powerful numbers - except perhaps 69--
Everyone pointedly looks away from Entity #5.
Highemp: --but the greatest is 25!
The powerplayers look at him with interest.
Knightlord Thorn: Why 25? I've never heard of that having any mystical significance before, except to the gods of penguins and the concept of left.
Highemp: 25 is the ultimate synthesis of the greatest numbers: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, and 12. Take the digits, 2 and 5. Those are two of the numbers right there. Then add and subtract them. Five minus two is 3, and five plus two is 7. Twenty-four (which is two 12s) plus one is 25. Twelve plus twelve plus one. And twelve itself is 4 times 3.
The other powerplayers are stunned by his genius. Although perhaps only powerplayers would consider that crazy logic to be genius.
Highemp: Shut up, Eternius!
Arithmancer: My lord! Truly we are in awe of your boundless wisdom! We shall enter it into the Codex!
The comm crystal beeps again. At Highemp's reply, Kim's image is projected again.
Kim: Your majesty, Harem Queen #87 requests a conjugal visit.
Highemp: I'm there! Did I say 25 was the best? I meant 87!
And then he is gone, leaving the arithmancers to shuffle out in some confusion, with a new debate over the merits of 25 versus 87.
Entity #5: Wow, he just raced to her. She didn't even have to say she was ovulating.
Knightlord Thorn: She is one of his favorites. Was the first love of his youth, before being tragically murdered by a terrible villain.
Entity #4: Oooh, nice narrative!
Knightlord Thorn: Happily, he resurrected her when he ascended to the throne of the Stronghold of Powerplayers. He was unshackled from his angst when his incarnate Potential was killed far away.
Entity #1: Little misogynist though. His first love, yet she has no name, only a number?
Entity #5: Less misogyny and more following a humorous pattern set down by the traditions of his narrative origin!
Knightlord Thorn: Regardless, it is somewhat misogynistic, but let's be real - he already has a harem of loyal loving wives who are devoted to him; just giving them all unique names isn't going to make it any less misogynistic.
Entity #3: And Captain Lo, from the pantheon of our adversaries, has a harem of devoted male lovers! So there!
Entity #1: Blatant misandry doesn't make blatant misogyny okay!
Entity #5: And yet you've shagged Highemp. Several times.
Entity #1: Well, I-- wait, how do you know that? Were you taping us???
Entity #5: Er... would it help if I said no?
