ShadowDragon8685
Elder Member
It is a fanfic - more of Exalted in general, than Keychain in specific - at least so far - but since it was inspired by this webcomic, I figure this is a good place to start.
Warning: Much insane-o crack ahead, some NSFWness. I don't think it's anything excessive, just that you might not want to be caught reading it at work.
Crazy Exalted
By ShadowDragon8685
What. The. Fuck.
Nathan wanted to groan in agony, but for a lack of consciousness of his own body. He felt ill; as sick or sicker than he could ever recall before; nausea wracked the edges of his consciousness, pain and tightness burned within – within what, however, was the question. His mind pounded, for it couldn't be said he had a head at the moment – and that was a terrifying sensation.
He couldn't find his head, or even his brain; no spinal column or nervous system, no limbs to thrash, no hands to curl into claws of pain, no body to curl into the fetal position, no gastric system with which to vomit.
He felt very much like a computer which was throwing every imaginable hardware not found error, yet was still functioning. All that was in his domain to ponder were his memories, the sensation of illness without a body to be ill, the sensation of a migraine headache with no head which could ache. No sensory input came to him; no taste, no touch, no sound or sight, nor smell. He tried to make some change in his environment, but found that he could not – or if so, he was unaware of it. He couldn't feel his fingers press into his palm no matter how much he willed his hands to fist; he tried to scream but could not sense any air within his lungs, any vibration in his throat, even jaws opening to emit the scream, let alone ears which could hear it.
In short, it sucked. Lacking any measure of time, he couldn't even tell if it was eternity or an infinitesimally small amount of time. He tried to remember the last thing that had happened, and he could not; all he was left with was to ponder if this was death; had he died somehow? Was this what remained of consciousness; oblivion must surely be better! Or perhaps this was some kind of transition phase, something akin to one of his favorite shows from the UK, Ashes to Ashes.
Or was it... His line of thought terminated, as did the horrible, eternal and yet nothingness consciousness. It faded in an instant, and was replaced at some point, either an eternity or no time whatsoever later, with the sweet, sweet sensation of air within his lungs. Lungs – Lungs! Nathan wanted to laugh, for he found he now had lungs – and a whole host of other, properly working nervous system-related appendages. Fingers flexed, and found palms; a diaphragm actuated, and he felt a chest swelling with air.
I'm not dead!, he thought to himself, wanting to laugh. Wait... This might be like Ashes to Ashes, I might've been shot or in a car crash or something and this is all a hallucination being spun by my brain in a desperate attempt to avoid loss of continuity – but I'm not dead!
Then the pain hit him again – a jolt that wracked his body – for he now had a body – with convulsions; white blossoms exploded through his visions, then abruptly became blackness as he felt the world spinning around him, and he landed on his belly, face down in grass that smell fainted of honey and mashed pumpkin. He was sick, nauseous in the extreme, and he tried to push himself up. He wanted to vomit; dry heaves started, but nothing came forth. Whether he was suppressing it or there was simply nothing to come forth, he couldn't know.
“Aaaagh....†Finally he had control of his convulsing body again, and he greedily gulped in the heady, sickly-cloying air. “F-Fuck! F-Feels like I just unplugged from the Matrix.†Nothing felt right – his body didn't feel normal, even his voice sounded different. He couldn't feel the weight of his long hair on his back, nor spilling around his neck, and he tried to force his eyes open.
A tingle surged through his mind – not a subtle one. It took him a few awkward moments to realize it must have been the telltale sensation of a mental intrusion – and what the hell, if one has gone down the rabbit hole, one must expect to meet the Hatter. “G-gah! Get out!†He rolled over, vision a blur, and he heard a hauntingly beautiful feminine voice titter softly. “In a way,†she said, “you have. Knock. Knock.â€
The sensation of powerlessness was overwhelmingly bad, to say the least, and not to mention having the simple pop culture reference he had believed himself to be making in private thrown back at him – after having had it ripped from his mind in the first place. “W-Who's there? Who are you?!â€
“I am unimportant, Mr... Nathan, it was. Get up.†His vision started to blur, and he thought he could see a figure stooping over him, offering a hand. “Get up. My master wishes to speak with you.â€
Groggily, he reached out, taking it – smooth and softly feminine, the hand grasped his, and pulled. Nathan had been helped to his feet before – it never went easily, especially for a woman who sounded so slender. This time, though, he wasn't so much helped to his feet as heaved to them, and it threw him off balance, throwing his other hand out to arrest his sudden balance confusion.
“Careful,†the owner of the voice admonished him, placing another hand on his shoulder. “Steady yourself, and rub your eyes.†Mechanically he did as instructed, rubbing his closed eyes for a good minute or so. Carefully he blinked the moisture from them, and then started as he saw what was before him.
He supposed some people might have tried to describe it – her - in terms of beauty, alien beauty. Nathan was not so kind: he was, he recognized, a man who could enjoy many forms of feminine beauty, from the literally alien (sweet, sweet Twi'leks were a favored subject of many of his favorite images found online,) to the sublimely human. This creature, though, not only bulls-eyed the Uncanny Valley, it sprouted a drill bit and started digging. Her face was sharp and hawkish, with solid white orbs for eyes and pointed teeth. Her ears came to an impossibly fine point, as did her hair, the color of chrome, and it flowed around her head like an array of needle-sharp knives that looked as if they could shred flesh. A neck about eight inches tall, at a guesstimate, let to a pair of slim and girlish shoulders which were exceeded in width by the impossibly huge breasts mounted on her chest, floating as if gravity held no sway for them, with a milky white substance leaking from the tips. Her torso was thinner than it had any right to be, though he could see no ribs, and it flowed into an impossible, wasp-like waist which flowed directly into a pair of gigantic hips around which a blue sarong flowed; further down her legs emerged again, with feet which were impossibly small, more like points than actual feet.
Only the fact that he had immediately prior had an event which he could only describe as some sort of out-of-body crisis saved him from bursting out with some sort of comment or exclamation of revulsion, though it was clear on his face. Still, the creature didn't seem to take offense – or show it, if she did. “This way.â€
Turning and walking away from him, Nathan felt a desire to turn and bolt in the other direction. He tempered that desire out of a stronger desire to not be left alone in strange surroundings – so he followed, all the while pinching his arm. It felt like his fingers were fat as sausages, calloused and rough like an old auto worker's, and their sensation impossibly dulled; looking down, he saw why. He was wearing large, thick leather gloves, and no shirt; at least, no shirt with long sleeves.
This confused him; he tried to think back to the last thing he could remember. Had it been sitting at his computer, chatting with friends, reading a forum, or writing something – no, it was checking a web comic that updated at three A.M. He'd been pretty tired – had he gone to bed? Was he naked? Why was he wearing gloves.
Just as he was about to get worried and look down in the stereotypical “feeling oneself†motion, a voice cleared his throat; he looked up, to see the hideous parody of female beauty kneeling at the feet of a man built like the love child of Adonis and Atlas, seated upon Zeus's throne. The classic Greeks would no doubt have classified his chiseled jaw and sharp, patrician features as beautiful; his shoulders were approximately the width of a jumbo jet's wingspan, or so it seemed in comparison. His chest perfectly chiseled, leading down to a thin – though not freakishly so – waist, which led to legs like tree trunks, and his skin was the color of hardened, fine marble – marbled, even. All in all, Nathan felt a wellspring of revulsion, envy, and stereotypical male inadequacy well up within him, especially at the sight of the size of the male creature's penis, already hard; the female thing was already beginning to fellate the man on the throne, and Nathan snapped his eyes up to meet the man's gaze; piercing, multicolored, and vivid like diamonds. He couldn't hold the creature's gaze again before looking away, gulping.
“W-Who are you,†he said, trying to fight the cracking voice, the irrational sensation of sexual jealousy and envy he felt. “Why did you bring me here?â€
“Why, I am Invincible Night Unrepentant, the Glorious Ravager,†the Adonis-like man atop the throne said. He paused for a moment, and Nathan winced as he ejaculated like some kind of Hentai animation; the as-yet unnamed female's eyes bulged, her nose and ears leaked viscous white fluid as the man – her master – emptied himself into her.
Under other circumstances, he might have found the scene erotic, if he had been in a particularly depreaved-and-loving-it mood. As it was, Nathan gulped, and looked away, mollifying his queasy stomach by internal mockery, thinking, what does this guy think he is, a fucking Death Lord or something?
With a sigh, the man – Invincible Night? Glorious Ravager? finished his business with his 'servant,' releasing her head. “But I will do you the honor of giving you a common name by which you may know me. Call me Lord Jay.â€
“L-Lord Jay?†“Yes.†The Adonis-like man stood, and the servant weakly reached up, wrapping a thick blue kilt around his waist. He turned to walk beyond his throne. “Please, come. There is much you need to have explained, and I shall certainly be delighted to tell you some of it.â€
Blinking and confused, Nathan started to follow the swaying-hipped man built and colored like a statue, averting his eyes. It was strange; he knew he had felt grass under his face a moment ago, but he seemed now to be within a vast palace of marble.
He followed the statue-like man – Lord Jay? - through, to a vast dining table set with marble benches. “Please, sit!†Nathan's stomach felt hungry, but caution prevailed; he sat, on his hands.
“Now, you must be wondering where you are. You are...†Lord Jay paused – the female creature which had been following them quickly beat up a drumroll on her own breasts, each slap causing that milky substance to spurt out. “In my palace, my home, my place of being. We are everywhere and nowhere at once; what is important, my young friend, is where you have been, and where you are going.â€
Nathan blinked. It was a lot to take in. “I don't understand. I – I was just in my bedroom, how did I get... Here?†“Elementary, my dear boy. You are here because I demanded it be so.†Jay threw back his head and guffawed, as did the woman behind Nathan – and a dozen other voices besides. He turned and saw that he was surrounded by beings, their eyes all glowing, though they remained within the shadows. For that, he was thankful.
“I... I don't understand. This is all crazy.†“Of course it is. That's the point.†Jay laughed again. “This is the Wyld. Everything is. Except when it's not.†Wild? Did he say 'Wild'? Or... 'Wyld'? Nathan blinked again, stunned, as Lord Jay pointed at him. “You, my boy, are here to entertain me.â€
“E-Entertain you?†He blinked. “I'm, uh... I'm not a comedian, I'm a -†“Oh, don't be silly. Your presence is not required.†“... You've lost me, completely, and this is getting -†“Shall I explain, then? I think I shall.â€
He coughed. “You, boy, have been ripped from your home, your homeland; your homeworld, and everything you've ever known and loved. This is because I cast out, searching for a suitable mind; on your world, there were billions of minds. Of them, several hundred million had suitable temperaments; of those, more than one hundred million were of the right age and flavor, and a few hundred thousand had the requisite knowledge. You, specifically, I pulled out of a hat.†At Nathan's blank stare, he smirked. “It was a large hat.â€
“Why?†“Because, I expect this will be good. For, you see, you, my lad... Have just been promoted from nothing to the top echelons of power and authority... Bring forth his effect.â€
“Effect?†Nathan blinked, and Lord Jay smiled. “I would order your effects be brought forth, but unfortunately, only one of them survived.†“Survived wha – aah!†Nathan's question was brought off as something heavy landed on the table, smashing the bowls and plates in front of him. He threw his hands up to shield his face, and peeked out when he heard the splattering of the flying contents of the table dishes cease.
“What.†He said it flatly, without any questioning tone; it defied questioning. There was a massive, golden blade on the table, a sword easily as tall as he, with a sharp-pointed tipped blade at the top, serrated for a foot on it's reverse length then flat. Three stones were inset in the base, towards the nearly nonexistent cross guard; the lower one was set a little further from the blade's surface, in some kind of off-color socket setting.
It was an amazing, impossible thing. Beautiful, yes, like something out of a Japanese console RPG. He gaped, and Lord Jay guffawed. “It's yours, boy!†“Mine? I – I can't -†“Shut up and listen, I am speaking.â€
The rudeness annoyed him – even after all that he'd seen, or perhaps because of it – he wanted to castigate the statue-like man. But something told him that was a bad idea, even if he did want to clout the man one. “You are here, now, in my palace. Creation is that way.†He pointed out of a side door that Nathan could have sworn was not there a minute ago. “You, boy, now count yourself amongst an elite group of only sixty; members of the Dawn Caste of the Solar Exalted. You are here because I have ripped you from beyond the borders of the Wyld; you have no Fate; no destiny; no connection to this world. You are a complete unknown; a chaotic X-factor. That makes you fascinating.â€
“...†Nathan opened his mouth to speak, to say something, but no words came out. After a moment of his indecisiveness of speech, his eyes went wide as he saw small black spheres emerge from his mouth, literal ellipsis highlighting and visualizing his verbally stunned state.
Creation. Dawn. Solar Exalted. He knew what those words meant, of course, but in the context of fantasy. He would have been just as stunned if Lord Jay had told him that he could walk out that door and emerge in a plaza on Coruscant, that he was now one of the Jedi Knights. It was ludicrous, absurd, impossible.
“Wyld,†Lord Jay responded to the unspoken accusation of impossibility, laughing as he crunched down on a fruit that looked like an apple, but with the approximate hue, tone, and substance as bone.
“You should be good for putting on a good show,†the creature, Jay, said after he had swallowed.â€A complete unknown, beyond the eyes of those meddlers. You should be able to raise some hell, especially since everyone's come back.
Insane. That's what he thought; that he was going inside. Nathan look his head between his gloved hands, shaking it back and forth, whispering, “snap out of it,†and the creatures all around – whom he now had strong reason to suspect were figments of his imagination most demented, masquerading as Fair Folk, howling at his obvious confusion and distress.
Finally, he settled on a question. “H-How?†“Simple. You've been shot. Your brain is dying, and this is all a delusion being spun by your dying self to desperately cling to consciousness and existence. You have to figure out a series of impossibly cryptic clues that will lead you to grow more and more frantic in the misguided belief that by performing – or preventing – some event, you can go home, but every time you think you've done it, you only face an impossible revelation and then have to think of something else.â€
“...†Nathan blinked, and anger started to grow within him. “T-That's the plot to Ashes to Ashes,†he loudly and angrily accused, pointing at Lord Jay. If he was going insane, the figments of his imagination could damn well be polite enough to be coy about it; if not, then he was being lied to.
“Of course it is. I'm lying.†The statue-sized man laughed, tossing his half-a-bone apple away. “Now, start running.†“Running?†“Yes.†Jay chuckled. “Let the entertainment begin. Creation is dead-ahead through that door, and if you don't get there very quickly, my minions will tear you limb from limb. Minions?â€
The glowing-eyed figures around him shouted, as one, “Ready!†“On your mark!â€
There was no time to think. He was still seated – panicking, Nathan turned, pulling up from the bench much, much faster than he ever would have thought possible. His hands seized around the hilt of the weapon on the table, reflexively. It was a good thing, as if he'd had time to think about it, he wouldn't have thought he could lift it – as it was, the weapon heftily lurched from the table as Lord Jay shouted “Get set!â€
It almost seemed that he was in slow motion as he pelted from the room. He sprang down the short flight of steps to the vibrant purple grass outside, and found himself bolting across a wide courtyard with a fountain in the center.
He made it all the way to the fountain when he heard Lord Jay behind him shouting “Goooooooooo!†The voice was oddly stretched, as were the noises that came after it – they sounded like dogs barking, but stretched out and slow, as if the world were moving in slow-motion. He realized what it was as he pelted towards the fountain, vaulting over the rim far more athletically than he had ever been; the droplets were falling at an extraordinarily slow pace, easily visible as they fell, as he splashed into the fountain and thundered across it, leaping out and to the other side, running for dear sweet life towards the gates.
The world wasn't in slow-motion. He was moving at lightning speed, and perceiving events even faster. The sword, which he had been trailing behind him, was strangely illuminated – with difficulty he brought it around to his front, curiously looking at it – the lower of the three stones was glowing vigorously with an inner light.
The strange landscape ahead of him was bizarre; it mostly defied description as anything except a voyage through the ghetto quarter of trip-out city. Purple mushrooms made of swaying grass dominated the landscape, dotted with yellow polka-dots from which emerged broad, stick red objects that resembled a frog's tongue and a human phallus at the same time. One of them snagged a beast as he ran by, dragging it back into the mushroom – and that was the least weird of the things that he could see, though in truth he was too busy running to pay attention.
As he ran, several of the tongue-penis-things lashed out at him, but he was simply moving too fast for most of them. One which had been planted in his way was too close, though – it lashed directly at him; hopelessly, he could see himself being caught and swallowed. At the last moment, however, his sword moved, seemingly of it's own accord – swiveling around front, he blocked like a champion who'd been practicing with the weapon all his life, the skill of an expert two-handed swordsman, the finesse, speed and precision of a Jedi. Yet, even that was a bad bargain – for a moment he felt the sticky tongue-member lash onto his sword, threatening to rip even it out of his hands, but as he held strong, the device inserted into the top socket on the sword pulsed with yellow light, and the sticky tongue-thing lost grip, releasing him. Beyond that mushroom was a glowing portal in the sky; on the other side, verdant, green forest.
He'd only been in a forest a few other times, and never a 'real' forest, and in all honestly, he hated the fucking outdoors. Yet compared to the bizzaro, Minus World where mushrooms with gigantic sticky cocks tried to eat people with their polka-dots and crazy statue-men set bloodthirsty minions on a person for sport, a little unprepared trip into unfamiliar wilderness seemed to be a good bargain.
He leapt through the portal, diving through it. The world spun for a moment, and he careened face down into the floor of the forest, barely shielding his head with his arm. He couldn't stop; couldn't stop. Clawing back to his feet, he took off again, hurtling over tree roots and diving under low-hanging branches. He had no idea how long it had taken, only that he should've been collapsed a long time ago from lack of breath, having a full blown asthmatic fit by now; funny what being mortally afraid for one's life can do to one's athleticism. He ran – he ran, and he ran some more, though towards the end he was almost completely out of it, more impacting with the tree branches and stumbling over the roots than leaping them.
Finally he could take no more, skidding to a halt in front of a pool of clear, crystalline water. Crawling over to it, he meant to gulp water from it, but paused when he caught sight of his reflection; he didn't even look like himself. Bright short, vivid, unnatural blue hair framed a not-unattractive, somewhat handsome face with brilliant yellow eyes.
Blinking, he stared, and stared, and stared some more. It was... It was impossible, freaky, crazy. He couldn't be where he thought he was, could he? And yet, all intents pointed to it – and if it were true, he was fucked. Double fucked, triple fucked. Quadruple-fucked, even. All he could think of was getting home, but how? And how could he learn what he'd need to learn?
None of it made any sense, and his body was almost dead from the run. Letting out a quiet groan, he collapsed to the grass, only a name entering his thoughts before he passed out. Misho.
Warning: Much insane-o crack ahead, some NSFWness. I don't think it's anything excessive, just that you might not want to be caught reading it at work.
Crazy Exalted
By ShadowDragon8685
What. The. Fuck.
Nathan wanted to groan in agony, but for a lack of consciousness of his own body. He felt ill; as sick or sicker than he could ever recall before; nausea wracked the edges of his consciousness, pain and tightness burned within – within what, however, was the question. His mind pounded, for it couldn't be said he had a head at the moment – and that was a terrifying sensation.
He couldn't find his head, or even his brain; no spinal column or nervous system, no limbs to thrash, no hands to curl into claws of pain, no body to curl into the fetal position, no gastric system with which to vomit.
He felt very much like a computer which was throwing every imaginable hardware not found error, yet was still functioning. All that was in his domain to ponder were his memories, the sensation of illness without a body to be ill, the sensation of a migraine headache with no head which could ache. No sensory input came to him; no taste, no touch, no sound or sight, nor smell. He tried to make some change in his environment, but found that he could not – or if so, he was unaware of it. He couldn't feel his fingers press into his palm no matter how much he willed his hands to fist; he tried to scream but could not sense any air within his lungs, any vibration in his throat, even jaws opening to emit the scream, let alone ears which could hear it.
In short, it sucked. Lacking any measure of time, he couldn't even tell if it was eternity or an infinitesimally small amount of time. He tried to remember the last thing that had happened, and he could not; all he was left with was to ponder if this was death; had he died somehow? Was this what remained of consciousness; oblivion must surely be better! Or perhaps this was some kind of transition phase, something akin to one of his favorite shows from the UK, Ashes to Ashes.
Or was it... His line of thought terminated, as did the horrible, eternal and yet nothingness consciousness. It faded in an instant, and was replaced at some point, either an eternity or no time whatsoever later, with the sweet, sweet sensation of air within his lungs. Lungs – Lungs! Nathan wanted to laugh, for he found he now had lungs – and a whole host of other, properly working nervous system-related appendages. Fingers flexed, and found palms; a diaphragm actuated, and he felt a chest swelling with air.
I'm not dead!, he thought to himself, wanting to laugh. Wait... This might be like Ashes to Ashes, I might've been shot or in a car crash or something and this is all a hallucination being spun by my brain in a desperate attempt to avoid loss of continuity – but I'm not dead!
Then the pain hit him again – a jolt that wracked his body – for he now had a body – with convulsions; white blossoms exploded through his visions, then abruptly became blackness as he felt the world spinning around him, and he landed on his belly, face down in grass that smell fainted of honey and mashed pumpkin. He was sick, nauseous in the extreme, and he tried to push himself up. He wanted to vomit; dry heaves started, but nothing came forth. Whether he was suppressing it or there was simply nothing to come forth, he couldn't know.
“Aaaagh....†Finally he had control of his convulsing body again, and he greedily gulped in the heady, sickly-cloying air. “F-Fuck! F-Feels like I just unplugged from the Matrix.†Nothing felt right – his body didn't feel normal, even his voice sounded different. He couldn't feel the weight of his long hair on his back, nor spilling around his neck, and he tried to force his eyes open.
A tingle surged through his mind – not a subtle one. It took him a few awkward moments to realize it must have been the telltale sensation of a mental intrusion – and what the hell, if one has gone down the rabbit hole, one must expect to meet the Hatter. “G-gah! Get out!†He rolled over, vision a blur, and he heard a hauntingly beautiful feminine voice titter softly. “In a way,†she said, “you have. Knock. Knock.â€
The sensation of powerlessness was overwhelmingly bad, to say the least, and not to mention having the simple pop culture reference he had believed himself to be making in private thrown back at him – after having had it ripped from his mind in the first place. “W-Who's there? Who are you?!â€
“I am unimportant, Mr... Nathan, it was. Get up.†His vision started to blur, and he thought he could see a figure stooping over him, offering a hand. “Get up. My master wishes to speak with you.â€
Groggily, he reached out, taking it – smooth and softly feminine, the hand grasped his, and pulled. Nathan had been helped to his feet before – it never went easily, especially for a woman who sounded so slender. This time, though, he wasn't so much helped to his feet as heaved to them, and it threw him off balance, throwing his other hand out to arrest his sudden balance confusion.
“Careful,†the owner of the voice admonished him, placing another hand on his shoulder. “Steady yourself, and rub your eyes.†Mechanically he did as instructed, rubbing his closed eyes for a good minute or so. Carefully he blinked the moisture from them, and then started as he saw what was before him.
He supposed some people might have tried to describe it – her - in terms of beauty, alien beauty. Nathan was not so kind: he was, he recognized, a man who could enjoy many forms of feminine beauty, from the literally alien (sweet, sweet Twi'leks were a favored subject of many of his favorite images found online,) to the sublimely human. This creature, though, not only bulls-eyed the Uncanny Valley, it sprouted a drill bit and started digging. Her face was sharp and hawkish, with solid white orbs for eyes and pointed teeth. Her ears came to an impossibly fine point, as did her hair, the color of chrome, and it flowed around her head like an array of needle-sharp knives that looked as if they could shred flesh. A neck about eight inches tall, at a guesstimate, let to a pair of slim and girlish shoulders which were exceeded in width by the impossibly huge breasts mounted on her chest, floating as if gravity held no sway for them, with a milky white substance leaking from the tips. Her torso was thinner than it had any right to be, though he could see no ribs, and it flowed into an impossible, wasp-like waist which flowed directly into a pair of gigantic hips around which a blue sarong flowed; further down her legs emerged again, with feet which were impossibly small, more like points than actual feet.
Only the fact that he had immediately prior had an event which he could only describe as some sort of out-of-body crisis saved him from bursting out with some sort of comment or exclamation of revulsion, though it was clear on his face. Still, the creature didn't seem to take offense – or show it, if she did. “This way.â€
Turning and walking away from him, Nathan felt a desire to turn and bolt in the other direction. He tempered that desire out of a stronger desire to not be left alone in strange surroundings – so he followed, all the while pinching his arm. It felt like his fingers were fat as sausages, calloused and rough like an old auto worker's, and their sensation impossibly dulled; looking down, he saw why. He was wearing large, thick leather gloves, and no shirt; at least, no shirt with long sleeves.
This confused him; he tried to think back to the last thing he could remember. Had it been sitting at his computer, chatting with friends, reading a forum, or writing something – no, it was checking a web comic that updated at three A.M. He'd been pretty tired – had he gone to bed? Was he naked? Why was he wearing gloves.
Just as he was about to get worried and look down in the stereotypical “feeling oneself†motion, a voice cleared his throat; he looked up, to see the hideous parody of female beauty kneeling at the feet of a man built like the love child of Adonis and Atlas, seated upon Zeus's throne. The classic Greeks would no doubt have classified his chiseled jaw and sharp, patrician features as beautiful; his shoulders were approximately the width of a jumbo jet's wingspan, or so it seemed in comparison. His chest perfectly chiseled, leading down to a thin – though not freakishly so – waist, which led to legs like tree trunks, and his skin was the color of hardened, fine marble – marbled, even. All in all, Nathan felt a wellspring of revulsion, envy, and stereotypical male inadequacy well up within him, especially at the sight of the size of the male creature's penis, already hard; the female thing was already beginning to fellate the man on the throne, and Nathan snapped his eyes up to meet the man's gaze; piercing, multicolored, and vivid like diamonds. He couldn't hold the creature's gaze again before looking away, gulping.
“W-Who are you,†he said, trying to fight the cracking voice, the irrational sensation of sexual jealousy and envy he felt. “Why did you bring me here?â€
“Why, I am Invincible Night Unrepentant, the Glorious Ravager,†the Adonis-like man atop the throne said. He paused for a moment, and Nathan winced as he ejaculated like some kind of Hentai animation; the as-yet unnamed female's eyes bulged, her nose and ears leaked viscous white fluid as the man – her master – emptied himself into her.
Under other circumstances, he might have found the scene erotic, if he had been in a particularly depreaved-and-loving-it mood. As it was, Nathan gulped, and looked away, mollifying his queasy stomach by internal mockery, thinking, what does this guy think he is, a fucking Death Lord or something?
With a sigh, the man – Invincible Night? Glorious Ravager? finished his business with his 'servant,' releasing her head. “But I will do you the honor of giving you a common name by which you may know me. Call me Lord Jay.â€
“L-Lord Jay?†“Yes.†The Adonis-like man stood, and the servant weakly reached up, wrapping a thick blue kilt around his waist. He turned to walk beyond his throne. “Please, come. There is much you need to have explained, and I shall certainly be delighted to tell you some of it.â€
Blinking and confused, Nathan started to follow the swaying-hipped man built and colored like a statue, averting his eyes. It was strange; he knew he had felt grass under his face a moment ago, but he seemed now to be within a vast palace of marble.
He followed the statue-like man – Lord Jay? - through, to a vast dining table set with marble benches. “Please, sit!†Nathan's stomach felt hungry, but caution prevailed; he sat, on his hands.
“Now, you must be wondering where you are. You are...†Lord Jay paused – the female creature which had been following them quickly beat up a drumroll on her own breasts, each slap causing that milky substance to spurt out. “In my palace, my home, my place of being. We are everywhere and nowhere at once; what is important, my young friend, is where you have been, and where you are going.â€
Nathan blinked. It was a lot to take in. “I don't understand. I – I was just in my bedroom, how did I get... Here?†“Elementary, my dear boy. You are here because I demanded it be so.†Jay threw back his head and guffawed, as did the woman behind Nathan – and a dozen other voices besides. He turned and saw that he was surrounded by beings, their eyes all glowing, though they remained within the shadows. For that, he was thankful.
“I... I don't understand. This is all crazy.†“Of course it is. That's the point.†Jay laughed again. “This is the Wyld. Everything is. Except when it's not.†Wild? Did he say 'Wild'? Or... 'Wyld'? Nathan blinked again, stunned, as Lord Jay pointed at him. “You, my boy, are here to entertain me.â€
“E-Entertain you?†He blinked. “I'm, uh... I'm not a comedian, I'm a -†“Oh, don't be silly. Your presence is not required.†“... You've lost me, completely, and this is getting -†“Shall I explain, then? I think I shall.â€
He coughed. “You, boy, have been ripped from your home, your homeland; your homeworld, and everything you've ever known and loved. This is because I cast out, searching for a suitable mind; on your world, there were billions of minds. Of them, several hundred million had suitable temperaments; of those, more than one hundred million were of the right age and flavor, and a few hundred thousand had the requisite knowledge. You, specifically, I pulled out of a hat.†At Nathan's blank stare, he smirked. “It was a large hat.â€
“Why?†“Because, I expect this will be good. For, you see, you, my lad... Have just been promoted from nothing to the top echelons of power and authority... Bring forth his effect.â€
“Effect?†Nathan blinked, and Lord Jay smiled. “I would order your effects be brought forth, but unfortunately, only one of them survived.†“Survived wha – aah!†Nathan's question was brought off as something heavy landed on the table, smashing the bowls and plates in front of him. He threw his hands up to shield his face, and peeked out when he heard the splattering of the flying contents of the table dishes cease.
“What.†He said it flatly, without any questioning tone; it defied questioning. There was a massive, golden blade on the table, a sword easily as tall as he, with a sharp-pointed tipped blade at the top, serrated for a foot on it's reverse length then flat. Three stones were inset in the base, towards the nearly nonexistent cross guard; the lower one was set a little further from the blade's surface, in some kind of off-color socket setting.
It was an amazing, impossible thing. Beautiful, yes, like something out of a Japanese console RPG. He gaped, and Lord Jay guffawed. “It's yours, boy!†“Mine? I – I can't -†“Shut up and listen, I am speaking.â€
The rudeness annoyed him – even after all that he'd seen, or perhaps because of it – he wanted to castigate the statue-like man. But something told him that was a bad idea, even if he did want to clout the man one. “You are here, now, in my palace. Creation is that way.†He pointed out of a side door that Nathan could have sworn was not there a minute ago. “You, boy, now count yourself amongst an elite group of only sixty; members of the Dawn Caste of the Solar Exalted. You are here because I have ripped you from beyond the borders of the Wyld; you have no Fate; no destiny; no connection to this world. You are a complete unknown; a chaotic X-factor. That makes you fascinating.â€
“...†Nathan opened his mouth to speak, to say something, but no words came out. After a moment of his indecisiveness of speech, his eyes went wide as he saw small black spheres emerge from his mouth, literal ellipsis highlighting and visualizing his verbally stunned state.
Creation. Dawn. Solar Exalted. He knew what those words meant, of course, but in the context of fantasy. He would have been just as stunned if Lord Jay had told him that he could walk out that door and emerge in a plaza on Coruscant, that he was now one of the Jedi Knights. It was ludicrous, absurd, impossible.
“Wyld,†Lord Jay responded to the unspoken accusation of impossibility, laughing as he crunched down on a fruit that looked like an apple, but with the approximate hue, tone, and substance as bone.
“You should be good for putting on a good show,†the creature, Jay, said after he had swallowed.â€A complete unknown, beyond the eyes of those meddlers. You should be able to raise some hell, especially since everyone's come back.
Insane. That's what he thought; that he was going inside. Nathan look his head between his gloved hands, shaking it back and forth, whispering, “snap out of it,†and the creatures all around – whom he now had strong reason to suspect were figments of his imagination most demented, masquerading as Fair Folk, howling at his obvious confusion and distress.
Finally, he settled on a question. “H-How?†“Simple. You've been shot. Your brain is dying, and this is all a delusion being spun by your dying self to desperately cling to consciousness and existence. You have to figure out a series of impossibly cryptic clues that will lead you to grow more and more frantic in the misguided belief that by performing – or preventing – some event, you can go home, but every time you think you've done it, you only face an impossible revelation and then have to think of something else.â€
“...†Nathan blinked, and anger started to grow within him. “T-That's the plot to Ashes to Ashes,†he loudly and angrily accused, pointing at Lord Jay. If he was going insane, the figments of his imagination could damn well be polite enough to be coy about it; if not, then he was being lied to.
“Of course it is. I'm lying.†The statue-sized man laughed, tossing his half-a-bone apple away. “Now, start running.†“Running?†“Yes.†Jay chuckled. “Let the entertainment begin. Creation is dead-ahead through that door, and if you don't get there very quickly, my minions will tear you limb from limb. Minions?â€
The glowing-eyed figures around him shouted, as one, “Ready!†“On your mark!â€
There was no time to think. He was still seated – panicking, Nathan turned, pulling up from the bench much, much faster than he ever would have thought possible. His hands seized around the hilt of the weapon on the table, reflexively. It was a good thing, as if he'd had time to think about it, he wouldn't have thought he could lift it – as it was, the weapon heftily lurched from the table as Lord Jay shouted “Get set!â€
It almost seemed that he was in slow motion as he pelted from the room. He sprang down the short flight of steps to the vibrant purple grass outside, and found himself bolting across a wide courtyard with a fountain in the center.
He made it all the way to the fountain when he heard Lord Jay behind him shouting “Goooooooooo!†The voice was oddly stretched, as were the noises that came after it – they sounded like dogs barking, but stretched out and slow, as if the world were moving in slow-motion. He realized what it was as he pelted towards the fountain, vaulting over the rim far more athletically than he had ever been; the droplets were falling at an extraordinarily slow pace, easily visible as they fell, as he splashed into the fountain and thundered across it, leaping out and to the other side, running for dear sweet life towards the gates.
The world wasn't in slow-motion. He was moving at lightning speed, and perceiving events even faster. The sword, which he had been trailing behind him, was strangely illuminated – with difficulty he brought it around to his front, curiously looking at it – the lower of the three stones was glowing vigorously with an inner light.
The strange landscape ahead of him was bizarre; it mostly defied description as anything except a voyage through the ghetto quarter of trip-out city. Purple mushrooms made of swaying grass dominated the landscape, dotted with yellow polka-dots from which emerged broad, stick red objects that resembled a frog's tongue and a human phallus at the same time. One of them snagged a beast as he ran by, dragging it back into the mushroom – and that was the least weird of the things that he could see, though in truth he was too busy running to pay attention.
As he ran, several of the tongue-penis-things lashed out at him, but he was simply moving too fast for most of them. One which had been planted in his way was too close, though – it lashed directly at him; hopelessly, he could see himself being caught and swallowed. At the last moment, however, his sword moved, seemingly of it's own accord – swiveling around front, he blocked like a champion who'd been practicing with the weapon all his life, the skill of an expert two-handed swordsman, the finesse, speed and precision of a Jedi. Yet, even that was a bad bargain – for a moment he felt the sticky tongue-member lash onto his sword, threatening to rip even it out of his hands, but as he held strong, the device inserted into the top socket on the sword pulsed with yellow light, and the sticky tongue-thing lost grip, releasing him. Beyond that mushroom was a glowing portal in the sky; on the other side, verdant, green forest.
He'd only been in a forest a few other times, and never a 'real' forest, and in all honestly, he hated the fucking outdoors. Yet compared to the bizzaro, Minus World where mushrooms with gigantic sticky cocks tried to eat people with their polka-dots and crazy statue-men set bloodthirsty minions on a person for sport, a little unprepared trip into unfamiliar wilderness seemed to be a good bargain.
He leapt through the portal, diving through it. The world spun for a moment, and he careened face down into the floor of the forest, barely shielding his head with his arm. He couldn't stop; couldn't stop. Clawing back to his feet, he took off again, hurtling over tree roots and diving under low-hanging branches. He had no idea how long it had taken, only that he should've been collapsed a long time ago from lack of breath, having a full blown asthmatic fit by now; funny what being mortally afraid for one's life can do to one's athleticism. He ran – he ran, and he ran some more, though towards the end he was almost completely out of it, more impacting with the tree branches and stumbling over the roots than leaping them.
Finally he could take no more, skidding to a halt in front of a pool of clear, crystalline water. Crawling over to it, he meant to gulp water from it, but paused when he caught sight of his reflection; he didn't even look like himself. Bright short, vivid, unnatural blue hair framed a not-unattractive, somewhat handsome face with brilliant yellow eyes.
Blinking, he stared, and stared, and stared some more. It was... It was impossible, freaky, crazy. He couldn't be where he thought he was, could he? And yet, all intents pointed to it – and if it were true, he was fucked. Double fucked, triple fucked. Quadruple-fucked, even. All he could think of was getting home, but how? And how could he learn what he'd need to learn?
None of it made any sense, and his body was almost dead from the run. Letting out a quiet groan, he collapsed to the grass, only a name entering his thoughts before he passed out. Misho.
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