Multiple Settings Nothing is Set in Stone

[Alvaris]

Hey, just a reminder, anything can happen.

Don't forget to pack all the essentials

Might want to grab a water bottle and a knife, just in case.

You never know who you will meet.

I think the all-powerful and all-knowing Alvaris said something about a space ride.

Good luck, you'll need it.

Last thing, I promise.

Always remember

Nothing is Set in Stone.

Spoiler: Look here if you dare (we all know you do Schno)

Just a reminder

The characters in the roleplay are completely fictitious. The scenarios, era, and everything in-between used are selected randomly.

This roleplay is designed to play with character we've already created. The goal is to throw them in random environments with one another to see how they would react/interact with the other characters and settings. Who the characters are should be uncovered throughout the roleplay, which also means that individuals with powers may be locked with people who are powerless. However, these "people" may actually not be human. Feel free to add or change characters. When we grow tired of one scenario we can change and drop new characters or use previously used characters.

Character images are welcome (if you feel compelled, you can include names and brief character descriptions).

 

[Alvaris]

​

The beginning of this grand adventure is on the starship named SIS. For all who aboard are convinced that everything is Set in Stone. Alas, these poor travelers do not realize the journey ahead is fraught with calamity. Aboard the travelers are forced to eat together, bunk together, and must converse if they wish to pass the time and chase away their utter boredom. The fully automated dining hall offers a wide array beverage and nourishment options. The vessel even offers a fully stocked game room, from video games to board games. The ginormous vessel even has a pool, if you are the sort that enjoys drowning swimming.

None aboard the vessel have ever seen the pilot, nor spoken to the captain, engineers, or anyone of real importance. When a brave soul dares to venture down the narrow corridor toward the cockpit, they are met with silence or electrocution (if they choose to touch the door). Many of the doors are sealed and the only sound, aside from the chatter of the unfortunate passengers, is the steady hum of the engine.

 

[Coyote]

Spoiler: Vanthel Thorreign

Sigh...

It's been 24 hours and Vanthel Thorreign was no closer to the answers she wanted. Where was she? What was the nature of the place she now found herself in? She has been trapped in what appeared to be a metal cell with no discernable means of escape. A single window provided a view into black nothingness spotted occasionally with freckled points of light. It was her guess that these points were stars. However, the constellations were not the same. That's how she knew this wasn't the kingdom or Avenra. The Kingdom of Desmaria was a place meant to resist the encroachment of the gods, yet only the work of a god could have unseated her from her bed in the Vault of the Reverent. This could be another dimension entirely for all she knew.

It was a comfort that she remained with everything on her person. Her dark red and blue robes, rings of various magical uses, arcane focuses, even her halo and orb, though that was practically useless now. The Orb of the Reverent granted her control of her library and stronghold but in a place as alien as this, it had no power. It could take control of a new place if it was infused with magic but that was most disturbing realization for Vanthel since arriving here. There was no magic. The air, the walls, even the physical forces that govern nature were acting on their own, without the push and pull of magic. Nothing here held any magical traces whatsoever. If any magic were to be produced, it would have to come from Vanthel's own reserves which significantly limited her capabilities. Wherever she was, it placed her at a severe disadvantage.

Despite her predicament, however, Vanthel had made some progress. The material that seemed to encase her cell was made from some sort of metallic alloy. The forging must have been done by a master of their craft. It's strength and ability to withstand outside pressure was immense. There was a heavy dent on one of the walls from a small experiment she elected to engage in that involved pressing a golden rod of her summoning against it. It was very possible for her to break her way out but without any knowledge of her captors, the dent was sufficient. A mirror sat on one of the walls with a large crack, created when she attempted to use it to open a portal back to the kingdom but it proved unsuccessful. It also drastically drained her strength. Even now, Vanthel sat on the bed perusing her notes for what might've been the thousandth time, attempting vainly to discern where she was.

She turned another page and found herself staring at a series of symbols unknown to her. It was the most important clue she had: language. Vanthel was well studied as the Grand Arcanist of the Vault but the alphabet coding the language written and spoken here was unlike anything she's seen. V A N T H E L T H O R R E I G N was written in a rigid font on a screen located by what appeared to be a door. When she touched the screen, the letters disappeared and transformed into something else entirely. The symbols along with more letters revealed themselves to her reading O P E N. However, she thought it wise to actually decipher them before moving forward. While she sensed no magic, Vanthel couldn't rule out the possibility that she was looking at the runes for a spell of entrapment. This could be the key to her escape from this cell.

Vanthel held out her hand and created a chalice of gold out of thin air that quickly filled itself with water. It was fortunate that wielders of ice and water never needed to concern themselves with hydration but the pit of hunger in her stomach was a different problem altogether. Since her arrival here, no one has visited her. Perhaps those who held her captive wished to drain her strength prior to making their demands or asking questions. It was an effective strategy but not one that would catch her unwary. She was a Grand Arcanist for a reason. The knowledge and power of artifacts entrusted to her drew much unwanted attention. There are things she's seen... entities... that stood in her way in the past. She's survived it all. If there was one thing her captors failed in, it was leaving her with her belongings and underestimating her determination to return home.

Vanthel studied the characters for some time and she was close. It was a difficult task due to a lack of abundance of the language she was studying but there were more characters to study the more she searched her cell. S I S were three that repeated quite often though the meaning of the word still eluded her. It was when she realized that doors had a light function that she began to take real strides forward. When a door was closed or locked, a small red bead of light would emerge near the handle. It turned green upon opening, then red upon closing once more. The door that led to the washroom did this many times without prompting the activation of any other functions. The light on the door leading outside was also red, but this one held that cursed screen with the word OPEN.

Sooner or later, Vanthel would have to dip her toes into the water. Being the person that she was, Vanthel elected to go sooner. She's gleaned every fragment of information she could from this place and if she didn't take risks in escaping, there would be no escape to speak of. One thing was certain. She needed more information. Vanthel conjured up a disembodied hand of liquid gold and willed it towards the screen. She could test the screen, prompting it to act but she needed to do so from a safe distance. Vanthel stood opposite the door and traced more runes into the air, causing them to melt and form a barrier around her. Even her halo began to expand, forming a ring around her head and then splitting into countless ribbons. Should any spells be used against her, Vanthel was more that prepared to counteract it.

Slowly, the hand moved forward. For a moment, Vanthel wondered if anyone was looking for her. If they were and she was found, what would they see? Vanthel let out a chuckle. Conjuring up images of her own corpse was far too grim. However, it was important to keep that possibility present in her mind. Letting her guard down once for even a moment could mean the difference between her survival and demise. With a final flick of her fingers, the golden hand moved forward and placed a finger on the screen. Vanthel exhaled and grit her teeth, readying herself for the worst when suddenly, the light on the door turned green and slid open.

Spoiler: Translation

"Open... The symbols whisper the command to open!"

"Rahl... ko vahlk olh kureineghal rahl!" Vanthel's shoulders released all their tension at once. Of course, that's what it meant! The symbols controlled the doors ability to open and close. She grabbed her notebook and with the golden hand returning, she conjured up a few more, each with their own quill at the ready. As she approached the door, the word rahl was inscribed next to the series of symbols that read OPEN. Her halo returned to its original form above her head but the barrier remained, albeit nearly invisible to the naked eye. If she didn't know anything about this place, it was very possible that her captors didn't know anything about her. That could explaining their leniency in allowing her to keep her belongings. If they were unfamiliar with her magic, there was chance she could maintain her protective barrier without it being noticed. Vanthel stopped at the door for a moment and took a deep breath. Her golden hands faded and she pocketed her notebook. There was time to review them later. Now was her greatest opportunity to gather vital information. With renewed vigor and a hardened resolved to return home, Vanthel stepped out into the hallway.

 

[Jtucker19]

Quenyn Thrush scratched a new line onto the wall to the left of his bed, etching a line through the four he had made since the beginning of the week. At least, what he thought was the beginning of the week. To be honest, he also wasn't sure if another day had actually passed, but keeping this track of time, however erroneous, made him feel somewhat more in control of his situation. But despite this small comfort, he wasn't in control. He never had been. Though he had been there for what he guessed had been a little over a week he still knew very little about where he was or why he was there.

He didn't remember boarding the starship. He didn't even remember waking up in this stateroom. His first memory had been waking up on the cold, metallic floor of the corridor that led to the cockpit. After struggling to stand up and surveying himself for injuries a few memories came slipping back. He had touched the door. The door that led to the cockpit. A bolt of electricity had run through his body like a vibroblade through soft flesh. He had been thrown back several feet, knocking his head against some hard object and had blacked out for several hours.

Don't touch the cockpit door. Got it.

That shock, though a successful physical deterrent, had only secured in Quenyn's mind that whatever was behind that door held the answers to many if not all of the questions he had. Not having anything else to do, he had spent hours pondering any way to open the door without physically touching it. It resisted all hacking attempts. It resisted any physical bombardments, any attempts to break through. Finally, he had given up, resigning himself to his fate.

He wasn't the only one on board. Of that he was certain. Many of the stateroom doors had other people's names on them. But for some reason none of them had woken up, at least not yet. He had even taken to talking to some of them through their doors. He knew nothing about them, but he somehow found solace in knowing that, someday he might not be alone. Now whether or not they might be able to help him out of this predicament was another matter entirely. But whatever the answer to that question was he would be glad of the company.

With a flick of his wrist Quenyn activated his holoband and a neon projection shot out, hovering just in front of his eyes. He laid there playing a vintage video game for some time. He passed many hours this way, waiting for change. Waiting for someone.

As his eyes grew tired, he flicked his wrist inward, powering the game down. With a sigh he jumped out of bed, restoring blood flow to his feet. After a brief exercise, he took to the stateroom corridors to greet his friends. His silent, sleeping friends.

Pretty sad, but ya gotta play with the cards you're dealt right?
"Hey, Arthur, Tesla, Zerg, Robin," as he passed each door he tapped lightly on them once with his knuckle, "Lilith, Vanthel-"

He stopped suddenly. When he'd said that last name, he had made the same knocking motion towards the door, but his knuckle hit empty space. The door was open. The door was OPEN! He looked inside and saw an empty stateroom that looked much like his. He had dreamed of this moment. Of the time that someone else on the starship would wake up, would join him, maybe even help get him out of here. But, in this moment, the very one he'd dreamed of, he realized he didn't really know any of the ones who he'd felt were his friends. He didn't know their intentions. Were they truly his friends? Or were they foe? Or were they entirely apathetic to his existence and merely stuck in the same predicament as he?

Quenyn flicked his wrists, generating a forcefield that coated his body like a second, indigo skin. He suddenly felt very afraid.

 

[Coyote]

Vanthel had been watching him for a while. It wasn't long after she left her cell that she heard the footsteps of someone elsewhere in this place... and they were approaching. She stole away from her cell and moved further down the hall, fancying herself a spot just inside an alcove with more strange symbols etched over smaller metallic cabinets. The more she saw of this place, the stranger it became. In an oddly sickening way, it felt sterile. As if the very air she breathed had been purified. It was unnatural.

That was when she spotted him. A human... someone of her race, but with strange attire. At the very least, he was of a different country. Perhaps he was a slave to the ruling species here. It was optimistic to believe he was on her side, however, so she was content with watching for the present. The man continue down the corridor, knocking on the doors, one by one and began to say a series of words that sounded like a list of names. He stopped at hers.

"Vanthel," he said with a heavy accent in his native language but audible enough for Vanthel to recognize.

Her element of surprise was now in jeopardy. This man was aware of her absence and the entire prison could be alerted in moments if she did not silence him. There was no other recourse. Suddenly, the man flicked his wrist, creating some sort of barrier that encased him. Vanthel's eyes went wide. An arcane focus. Magic! No... it couldn't be. She didn't sense any magical essence from the barrier. Something was very wrong. Vanthel's dark chocolate eyes began to flicker gold and she rapidly scribed runes into the air whilst muttering incantations under her breath.

Her halo floated up from her head and began to coast soundlessly along the ceiling. That alone wouldn't be enough, however. The runes dissolved and rewrote themselves onto the walls, traveling with Vanthel as she stepped into the hallway.

Spoiler: Translation

Do not move. Use your focus again and there will be consequences. Literal Translation: I demand stillness of you. Woe with actions of arcane intentions.

"Ie 'voel kofh uy 'kr. Marr ii vashlokorsch thul kr," she hissed. The golden runes on the walls flared as a warning and flashed with intensity in tandem with movement from the man's wrist. They were designed to target whatever his focus was. It was clear the band on his wrist was that target. In fact, as the runes moved, they seemed to twist in shape and form to create the silhouette of some sort of eye and there were several. The halo continued to slide along the ceiling moving ever closer to the man as Vanthel stepped forward, awaiting his response, her eyes digging into him for any tell that gave away what he was thinking.

Jtucker19

 

[Jtucker19]

Quenyn scanned the inside of the stateroom briefly. There was a deep dent in one of the walls along with a long crack that scrawled across the face of the mirror. It looked as if there had been some kind of skirmish inside. Had there been two occupants in this room? No. There couldn't have been. Quenyn knew each room well and each door's frame contained the name of only one occupant. Whoever this Vanthel was they must be massive to have inflicted that size of a dent on the dense walls of their quarters. Quenyn, out of frustration, had punched the wall many a time and had only ever been awarded with nasty bruises along his knuckles.

Quenyn spotted several journals lying on the bed, however, upon inspection, whatever language they were written in was foreign to him. It was impossible to gauge this Vanthel's intentions by the contents of the room; he'd just have to talk to him himself, though by the looks of the journal there might be a bit of a language barrier. Nothing his aural implant couldn't handle. He blinked twice quickly then held his eyes shut for a moment, activating his Oculars. They offered him a variety of different visions. Selecting heat vision, he stepped back out into the hallway scanning for the newly awakened passenger.

Just as he spotted a red, orange shifting blip on his radar, a girl stepped out of her hiding place and into plain view. He deactivated his heat vision and took a step back.

THIS was Vanthel?! She certainly wasn't what he had been expecting. How the hell did she make that dent in that wall?! Seismic cuffs? A repulsor cannon? It didn't look like she had any of that on her. To be honest, her clothes made her look like some fanatic fangirl attending a Vidcon. She looked human, but, whoever she was, she definitely wasn't from his planet. He thought space travel had become so common that fashion had become pretty intergalactic. Maybe she was part of some sort of cult? He'd heard of cults who patterned their uniforms after ancient sects. Was she a part of all of this? No, she couldn't be. She had been in the same predicament he had been in. No matter who or what she was they were on the same side. At least he hoped so. And there was only one way to find out.

"Zed!" He exclaimed when he spotted the runes dissolving and rewriting themselves on the walls surface almost seeming to follow her as she took a couple steps closer to him. "Hey, hey, hey!" He put his hands up and took a couple steps backward. He didn't know what the hell those runes were or how she was making them, but he didn't like the look of them.

"Ie 'voel kofh uy 'kr. Marr ii vashlokorsch thul kr," she hissed.

Awesome. Just as he had thought, whatever language she spoked was one that his AIC hadn't come across or stored before, otherwise his auto-translation would have kicked in. Not to worry. He'd just need a sizeable sample of her language for his AI to analyze. He just needed to keep her talking, preferably whist not getting singed by the strange symbols carving themselves into the wall beside her. He didn't want to feel what that felt like on skin. He was fairly sure his force field would protect him, but 'fairly sure' wasn't going to cut it.

He raised his hands above his head slowly in what he hoped was a universal gesture for 'I come in peace.'

"I'm not going to hurt you." He maintained eye contact whilst taking another small step back. "And I sure as hell hope you're not gonna hurt me." he added, muttering. "I can't understand you, but if you talk-" He made a 'talking' hand motion, "I can scan you", scanning hand motion, "and then I will understand. Can you talk more?", talking hand motion.

He must look insane to her. He activated his aural implant's scanner and hoped that that small communication would do the trick. He'd done the best he can. The rest was up to her.

Coyote

 

[Coyote]

Vanthel held firm, remaining untrusting of the man. He appeared younger. Perhaps 20 winters... nearly half as many as her, though magic helped to maintain a youthful image that affected the aging process. Her eyes still flared gold as she studied his expression. Then, he spoke.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said, holding his hands up.

The runes instinctively brightened, ready to activate at the snap of Vanthel's fingers but his gesture was familiar to her. He seemed to be relinquishing his stakes in the fight.

Spoiler: Translation

You are no warrior, then. Literal Translation: You are of lamb's blood.

"Halsfa ko lhukr," she said in a more curious tone. Her posture remained tense and as she approached, her brow raised.

"And I sure as hell hope you're not gonna hurt me." he added, muttering. "I can't understand you, but if you talk, I can scan you and then I will understand. Can you talk more?" making a series of hand motions that were rather strange.

What customs was he raised under? Did he wear such odd attire by choice? The language he spoke almost sounded ridiculous. Why were their r's so soft? And the 'a' sounds like 'can' were far too exaggerated. She hadn't the slightest clue what he was talking about. At the very least, his expression wasn't threatening which ruled out open hostility as a mode of interaction but unfortunately, deception was still on the table. Vanthel's halo sped down over the man and stopped right around his neck like a floating ring. Her eyes dulled back into chocolate browns and the runes on the walls faded. Two golden hands appeared. One pointed at the man aggressively and the other made a running signal. Vanthel brought her own hand up to make a slicing motion at her neck. The halo brightened and tightened slightly. Not enough to touch his skin but just enough for him to feel the heat brought on by the concentration of magical energy. It was her only warning.

Vanthel watched him for a moment, taking stock of his face. The barrier that formed earlier was still visible. His eyes seemed honest enough that Vanthel was willing to let him talk... for now. Whatever good that would do her with the language barrier. He was more useful to her alive than dead but Vanthel was no fool. Her eyes glanced towards the open doorway to her cell signaling him to walk in. They needed to talk someplace private. The moment the man turned his back to step in, Vanthel scanned the hallway once more in case someone else happened to be approaching. After seeing or hearing no such thing, she ran her hand along the wall causing a series of runes to begin inscribing themselves around in a sort of doorway. If anyone stepped through, she'd know about it.

A golden hand floated past the two of them and began pulling a chair out for the man. Another was grabbing a notebook and a third called forth a quill to begin writing. A fourth pressed the screen that opened the door earlier and prompted the cell shut. Vanthel remained standing and more hands pushed him down onto the chair. Hopefully that made it clear who was asking the questions. Now came the hard part: getting this strange man to understand her. His physique was that of a pampered noble but even they trained for battle. Perhaps he was a son of a merchant or a young student at a mage's university where he came from. One thing Vanthel was sure of, however, was that he had not known war. His eyes were far too gentle, without the callouses of struggle and loss. It was almost enough to make her envy him but she doesn't get to live this long by trusting everyone who came to her with eyes like a mewling calf.

The notebook opened and the quill was put to parchment.

Spoiler: Translation

Answer me this, lamb. Where am I? Where are you taking me?

"Lhukr 'ohkuschka. Vor ie? Vor 'u ie'ksha?" she demanded.

A pair of golden hands turned her notebook over to reveal a picture perfect illustration of her kingdom. There were more words written in her language to discern the various regions on the map but it was quite clear that it was detailing the geography and political boundaries of her land.

Spoiler: Translation

And most importantly. How can I return home? Literal Translation: And of primary importance, how I may return to my ancestral womb.

Vanthel leaned closer to him, scanning his expression for any sign of recognition. "Ko riegha liisvha, ie'thodens o'thdein," her voice lowered to a more svelte tone, impressing on the man the importance of his answer.

Jtucker19

Spoiler: Illustrated Map

 

[Jtucker19]

Quenyn stood there watching Vanthel, hoping that he had communicated sufficiently. He breathed a short sigh of relief when the runes on the wall started to fade and the formidable golden glow around her eyes faded, revealing their natural soft brown color. They were quite beautiful really, like the bark of oak trees from the Old World. He had only seen replicas, but he imagined they were even more breathtaking in real life.

He was brought out of his daydreaming when a large gold ring floated down and leveled at his neck. He rerouted all power to the front-facing side of his force field. Nothing she had done indicated a decision to go for the kill, but he had no clue what this ring even was. A holo? It seemed very tangible. He could feel the heat radiating from it. He wanted so badly to scan it, but he was more focused on making communication feasible as soon as possible.

He startled slightly when two more apparitions appeared. Floating hands?! These had to be holos, but there was something off about them. Most holos had some trace amount of evanescence to them. These did not. They started to gesture, signing something he didn't understand until Vanthel slid a hand slowly across her throat. Yeah, that was a pretty universal symbol. Staying as still as possible he followed the hands as they beckoned him into Vanthel's stateroom, even pulling out a chair for him! So the floating hands had manners? Nice. Quenyn briefly wondered if the hands were just highly advanced holos that she had programmed, but he ruled that out quickly. How could she have known what was going to happen. Even he, as a master programmer, wouldn't be able to program holos that quickly.

He followed the hands instructions to sit down and waited quietly while a book was brought to him.

"Lhukr 'ohkuschka. Vor ie? Vor 'u ie'ksha?" she demanded. A notification popped up on his VUI. "Linguistic scan 88% complete. Please provide more data for analysis." His AIA said, though only audible to Quenyn himself. Come on, keep talking!

One of the hands brought over a journal, showing him the contents. He couldn't read any of the glyphs. Then the page was flipped again. What he saw made absolutely no sense to him. It was a picture of a country, of that he was sure. Sections of the country were even labeled in Common, but that was where his surety ended. It looked like no place he had ever seen or even heard of before. If this was somewhere from her planet, how did she get here? Was she kidnapped? Was HE kidnapped? And, if so, then what for?

He didn't retreat as Vanthel leaned in closer to him, his ocean blue eyes stayed locked on her gentle brown.

"Ko riegha liisvha, ie'thodens o'thdein," Another VUI notification. "Linguistic Analysis Complete. Translation Matrix available." Activate, he responded in his mind, and translate all past encounters. Now they could at least communicate with each other.

"Okay! Now we're cooking with solar! Hi! I'm Quenyn." He said, kindly, "and I..I didn't bring you here. I woke up here just like you. I don't remember anything before, at least, nothing about getting on this starship. Is this your home?" He pointed to the illustration. "I've never seen anything like it. What galaxy is it in? And what are these hands made out of? I wanna touch it, but- better scan first. Is it alright if I scan them? Oh, and you can call off your floaty ring thing. I'm not gonna hurt you."

Coyote

 

[Coyote]

Vanthel stared at him awaiting for his response, then he did. Her eyes went wide and she stepped back, aghast that the words coming from his mouth were of her own language.

"You speak my tongue," she said, stunned. "Magic known only to the spirits of knowledge... exceedingly rare and-" she turned back to him with a glare, studying him for a moment. He was somewhat valuable to her before. Now the man was absolutely crucial. "You speak my tongue but you are not of my people," and it was true. In fact, the accent was horrendous. Like that of a beginner struggling with correct pronunciation. And what were those words? Cooking solar? Scan? Scan what, a hand? Why would he cook the sun? Is it not already hot? It was sheer nonsense.

Vanthel dug into him with piercing eyes for another moment before the halo parted into ribbons and came together again over her head. "Do not mistake tolerance for trust. You ask many questions and speak of things I do not know. Starship? Galaxy?" Vanthel voiced them out, thinking hard on what they could mean. Before, there was just one pair of golden hands scribbling furiously in a notebook. Now, there were four. Information was being processed so fast that at some point, Vanthel shook her head, "No, no that cannot be it," one hand ripped a page from a notebook and crumpled it up to be discarded. The hands seemed to float about in a near manic pace but there was quite a noticeable avoidance of the man. Clearly his answer for studying the hands was no.

"The stars and galaxies are of a celestial nature but only the Sun Lord and the Moon Mistress reside there," at this point, the man was being completely ignored but that was fine. Vanthel needed to consolidate what she had just learned first before dealing with him. "Have I been taken to the divine realm? Feasible... but unlikely. Let's return to that later," a hand produces a small bone that glistened with some sort of adhesive that it stuck to a page before turning to a new one in the notebook.

"Yes, lamb. This is my home but let's move from that subject. You called this... place a starship. That implies that we are traveling among the constellations and celestials," Vanthel finally turns to the man, "Is that true?" Her eyes were intense, seething with an insatiable hunger for information. "Do your people travel the Outer Realms? Or perhaps they worship the Sun and Moon. This would be high above the clouds... untouched by mortals. Something I know far too little about," Vanthel seemed to be talking to herself again and her eyes flickered a bit, her frenzy slowing down considerable now. The ruminations of a memory that tempered her when needed. Right. What she needed to do before anything was chart her escape. Everything else could come after.

Jtucker19

 

[Jtucker19]

Okay. Vanthel was definitely not from his galaxy. In fact, Quenyn was starting to think she wasn't from this dimension. To his knowledge, interdimensional travel had only been theoretical so far, but maybe someone achieved it? That was the only way to explain what was happening. Either that or Vanthel was just insane; and she didn't seem insane.

"Oh, no," Quenyn assured, "I'm not speaking your language. It's a translation matrix? You know, it translates for us real-time? I'm speaking in my language and you're speaking in yours, but my AIA is translating for us. It's not magic, just science."

How the hell did she not know what a Translation Matrix was. It's not like this tech was new. Quenyn was again intrigued when the Golden ring that had been at his throat dematerialized and then reformed over her head. Ah, it was a halo! A mind-controlled halo? Pretty advanced tech.

He watched her as she paced about, seemingly absorbing new information. He narrowed his eyes. Was "lamb" a term of endearment? He chose to believe it was. He stood when she began to question him, taking a few steps toward her.

"If by 'celestials' you mean space, then yes!" He chuckled. "And I definitely don't worship the sun and moon. How would you know which solar system's to worship? Most people don't worship much of anything anymore. You know, 'God is dead and science sits in his place.'?"

One look at her dazed expression and he knew she didn't get the reference.

"It was a thing in the 3000s. Anyways! You've never been to space?"

How? He literally knew of ZERO civilizations that weren't capable of at least interplanetary travel within their own solar system. This girl's arrival had only confused him more. She was traveling with some of the most advanced tech he'd ever seen, yet she didn't know what "galaxy" or "starship" meant? This ruled out his dimensional theory. If she was from another dimension that had succeeded at creating inter-dimensional travel there was no way they wouldn't have achieved space travel first. And she mentioned magic. There hadn't been a known magic user in over 2000 years. Which only left one solution.

"Time." He felt a chill wash over him. That was the only answer. She knew nothing about technology. She spoke of gods and magic. Magic! That's what all the apparitions were! Vanthel was a mage!

"Zed! Zed, zed, zed." He cursed, scratching his head and starting to pace as he absorbed the truth of their situation. But if she had time traveled how was he to know that he hadn't as well. He muttered to himself, "Well we're in a starship so it's past the mid 2000s." He turned to her, his uneasiness clear in his voice. "What year is it where you came from?"

Coyote

 

[Alvaris]

Tilabran Arsenio​

Beads of sweat formed along her forehead as she straightened her posture. She returned her dual snake swords to their usual appearance before sheathing them. Her skin crawled, for the length of time she spent aboard this thing remained unknown. It was obvious she was no longer in Dungrim. The cleanliness of everything informed her of that. Yet, though she despised the dank city streets, she’d rather be there than confined here. The Half-Drow knew all too well the dangers of remaining in a single place for more than a day.

Fools. All of them. If Otis was involved, she cut out his tongue before gutting him. Tilabran smiled, she thought about wrapping her snake blades around his neck before, but she hadn’t been fortunate enough to warrant such a display. The glistening silver of fresh cut metal reminded her of her predicament.

Tilabran stood akimbo, staring at the door. Or what she assumed to be a door. The metal exterior puzzled her. Where was this? Her captures must be wealthy for only royals or nobles could afford doors as grand as these. Not that they were all that appealing. After a moment she stepped back only to hear hissing and a thunk.

Quickly Tilabran spun, drawing her weapons as she did. A large gap now resided where a wall stood moments ago. Frustration welled in the pit of her stomach before she gingerly stepped forward, toward the gap in the wall. She turned to look at the opposing wall before noting that the entire room had that same design. What made her foolish enough to believe that one had been the exit? She chose not to dwell on her momentary low mental abstraction and instead, gritted her teeth and vowed not to repeat her error.

Earlier she heard chattering, which woke her in the first place. The repugnant individuals spoke far too loudly for her taste. In fact, had she been immediately permitted to exit, she would have informed them thusly. Sliding her blades back in their sheaths, she stepped out of her cell. The beds in this prison felt luxurious compared to the others she’d experienced, yet that comfort remained unsought after. None of the other grand things the room offered enticed her to stay.

The hallway stretched on for a while, both ways seemed like great distances to traverse. Turning to the left, she heard the sound of the insufferable duo conversing. A tongue she understood and one she did not. For a moment she thought it to be Elvish, but quickly dismissed that. Whatever tongue that individual spoke was unlike anything she’d heard before.

Slowly she walked toward the sound before pulling her hood up to cover her white hair, not that they wouldn't spot her granite skin. Anyone with eyes would readily note her species and likely assume the worst. Most did and most wouldn’t be far off.

When the chattering silenced Tilabran froze and rested her hands on the hilts of the blades. After a moment she continued walking, but left her hands on the finely crafted leather wrapped hilts. They closed the door. Had they noticed her presence? She found that nearly impossible to believe. The reason she remained employed was due to her light-footedness. In other words, "loud assassins are dead assassins." Uncertainty toyed in her along with automatic distrust. Those who converse behind closed doors have something to hide.

Coyote Jtucker19

Spoiler: Tilabran Arsenio

 

[Coyote]

Vanthel eyed the man for a moment, then scoffed.

"Just science? The two are one in the same," she stated, "But I can see your people have no grasp on the arcane." Vanthel took a moment to look around her cell, holding her hands out to indicate the space around them. "I sense none."

The man stood and walked towards her, causing Vanthel to raise her chin slightly. Her eyes glanced at the bracelet on his wrist for any movement but saw nothing. It was certainly a strange artifact. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't curious about how it worked but he kept talking and mentioned no worship of gods.

Vanthel stifled a laugh. "God is dead?" she shook her head, "They are very much alive. Some gods have died certainly, but the goddess of my people, the Maiden of the Deep lives. She is the reason I walk and breath. Surely your patron deity breathes life into you too."

It was quite clear now that this place was wholly alien to her home and given the view she has of the outside world, she wasn't very sure she was even in the material realm.

"Space?" Vanthel asked, "Space for what? What are you making space for?" she frowned when he followed up with questions about the year. "I take it you don't follow the Desmarian calendar. In the calendar of the Halish merchants, it is the 6863rd winter of the Third Age. Why is it you asking the questions, lamb? Why don't you answer some of my own?" Vanthel raised a brow.

"Who are you? Who do you serve? And what is this," she motioned toward his bracelet, "thing?"

Just then her spell went off. Someone had breached her cell. Alarm bells rang in her head and all her hands immediately dropped her notebooks. In mere moments, countless runes were being inscribed into the air. Vanthel muttered an incantation under her breath and her eyes steeled back into a cold, gold glare. She looked back at the man. "Someone else is here. I thought we agreed on no tricks," her halo buzzed angrily and dissolved into hundreds of ribbons that started circling Vanthel's head like an angry wasp's nest. "You have seconds to explain to me who the person outside is or I will tear the flesh from your bones."

Alvaris Jtucker19

 

[Jtucker19]

Quenyn raised his eyebrows. "You'd be right on that. There haven't been any known magic users in thousands of years. No one knows what cut off our connection to it. One day it just... wasn't."

He considered explaining his religious beliefs further, but decided there was no sense in it. They had more important things that could occupy their time. Quenyn walked over to one of the walls of the stateroom that was entirely glass. He gestured out to the myriad of stars visible on the other side.

"This is space. Everything outside this starship."

6863 winters? Oh. Of course, they didn't follow the current calendar. Well, that line of questioning had led nowhere. Ah well, he supposed that they had more important things to do anyway. He could tell she was getting frustrated. And that was understandable. It was a lot of information to take in and truth be told she hadn't heard the half of it. Life here was very different from wherever she came from. That had to be overwhelming.

"My name is Quenyn. Quenyn Thrush. And I don’t serve anyone. I'm just a programmer and overall techie." He remembered she wouldn't know what that word meant. "Um, I fix tools? Kind of. But not tools you'll know of. It's hard to explain."

His eyes lit up when she asked him about his holoband.

"Oh! That's a good way to explain it actually!" He brought his arm up to show it to her, slowly so it wouldn't be perceived as threatening. "This is called a holoband. This is the stuff that i fix, technology or tech. It essentially was created to let us do magic again, but using technology."

Suddenly Vanthel went into attack mode again.

"I didn't do anything!" He assured her.

He turned to the door, noticing the runes had changed color and seemed almost agitated.

"It could be whoever brought us here. Maybe we weren't supposed to wake up yet."

Quenyn brought his wrists together then tore them apart quickly, extending his hand toward the door. His personal force field deactivated and was replaced by a large bubble-like, indigo field that was wide enough to shield both of them from whatever came through that door.

Alvaris Coyote

 

[Alvaris]

Tilabran Arsenio​

A chill ran down her spine. She sensed strong magic, but unlike she had previously encountered. Tilabran knew countless mages and elves, both the sun bleached and those like her, that possessed strong abilities. Even the grand mage she met had magic that felt different, albeit still strong, yet wholly unlike this. She felt it akin to tasting two batches of the same soup, yet one batch had spices and one without. Though they are the technically same, they are also quite different.

Tilabran’s grip tightened on the hilts of her blades, and she half smiled. She quite liked the idea of going toe-to-toe with a mage. At least action could stave off her boredom and irritation. Most mages overestimated their abilities when engaging with her. They foolishly believe their magic had the potential to spare them from a Drow – half or not – Tilabran was adept in Drow magic. The bloodline of the man that sired her secured her magical abilities, just not her place in Drow society. Though the man that fathered her was a detestable being, she did owe him a bitter thanks for his lessons though they were more torture than teaching.

Suddenly the door before her seem to vibrate, so subtly that the untrained eye could easily overlook it. Tilabran stepped back and pulled out her swords. Those hiding revealed their daggers first, truly a mistake.

Earlier she assessed at least two, one clearly had arcane abilities and the other? Potentially a human and evident that being was a young male, based on the voice and gait. From the conversation she overheard, the male seemed to submit to the female, yet they did not know one another. Curious. Tilabran knew of few societies where women were superior to men, but she also had the feeling that maybe the male noticed the superior abilities the female possessed. The real threat seemed to be the woman, but Tilabran would soon find out.

Coyote Jtucker19

 

[Coyote]

Vanthel glared at Quenyn for a moment before letting out a scoff. "You really are a lamb..." she muttered. Vanthel's breath called forth a golden mist that grew thick as she spoke a few more words of incantation. Then, suddenly, she smacked her hands together causing sparks to ignite the mist and transform it into solid stone. The shimmering rocks locked together in the shape of a snake roughly four feet in length and it circled around Vanthel whilst it floated; a singular golden eye of magical light glowing from its head. The construct wrapped around Vanthel's neck and faced towards the door, its eye brightening with magical power.

This was certainly going to drain her reserves significantly, but she was the Grand Arcanist. Her bloodline has bred magic into its lineage for more than a thousand years. Vanthel thrust her hands out towards the various runes she had carved into the air and plucked them with a tether that sparked wildly. One on the floor, two on the ceiling, four on the walls, and a final one settled onto the back of her head, changing its form and shape to look nearly identical to the eye on the construct.

"Tell this person to stand down," Vanthel commanded as a hand pressed down on the keypad for the door and dissipated into mist.

The door slid open and revealed the woman on the other side. Vanthel's eyes widened. She's heard of creatures before but never seen or met one. The night elves, whom turned towards the Lunar Mistress when dragons ruled the world. So the legends say... but those records were usually unreliable. The kingdom allowed very little information from the outside world to trickle in and the specifics of their people were entirely lost to her. That did not, unfortunately, ease her in the least. The woman before Vanthel wielded blades and maintained a hostile stance. Let's see if Quenyn could prove himself useful as a mediator.

Jtucker19 Alvaris

 

[Alvaris]

Tilabran Arsenio​

The door slid open and two stood before her. Tilabran’s eyes rested on the male first, he had peculiar machinery attached to his arms, but none that she recognized. The bubble that encased the pair in front of her glowed a blueish colour and seemed to stem from whatever the man had strapped to his wrists. Tilabran’s eyes then rested on the woman, the one she’d deemed the threat and now she understood why. The rich blue and red robe spoke of her significance. A mage. It made sense why the male surrendered to the female. Tilabran’s skin crawled, she despised mages and their self-importance. If anyone knew why she was here, it would be the mage.

Tilabran glared at the woman and tightened her hands around her blades. She reveled at the idea of piercing her soft looking skin and allowing red to stain the ground she walked on. “Amin feuya ten’ lle,” Tilabran said as a half-smile rested on her grey lips. The boy held no significance, thus she deemed him a non-threat.

The blades in her hands separated and clanked as the tips hit the ground. Not many she encountered were familiar with snake swords and finding out if her opponents knew was half the fun. Before her next breath, the ship shuttered and Tilabran stumbled backwards before catching herself. The boy yelped as he disappeared below the floor, taking his colourful shield along with him. Too bad it wouldn’t be a fair fight now.


Coyote