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Fantasy Satan Shrugged [In-Character]

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< SATAN SHRUGGED >

  • Basic Information

    Generally speaking, if you've read or seen anything at least remotely related or similar to Tolkien, Dungeons & Dragons, or Conan the Barbarian, you probably know what to expect of the journey ahead of you. There are some stark differences, but they can be covered later. For now, let's go over characters.

    Your character is supposed to be - at the start of the story - a milquetoast, conveyor-belt-assembled human person. No super-ninja assassins, no laser vision or super-strength, and no sociopath-tier hypercompetent problem-solving ability in almost any situation, no matter how precarious or unlikely.

    You could be Jeremy Stewarts, ex-military, a veteran with twelve years of service, sure - but that should only grant you a marginal advantage over the rest of the players, at least in the beginning. If two or three dark minions in armor plating with shields and maces decide to fight you, and you don't have weapons, pre-planned exit strategy, or environmental advantage to tip the scales, you're going to be beaten black and purple, with broken teeth and a hairline fracture on your left cheekbone, then handcuffed and stowed away in the dark lord's dungeon.

    Generally, this story will be on the more serious side of things. That said, comedy explicitly isn't frowned upon, but it should stem from situational circumstances, rather than characters. If you make someone for the sake of memery, I'm not going to accept them. If you make someone at least principally realistic and then engage in an act of memery that's relatively plausible, I'm going to laugh with you and give you a golden star.

    The characters in the roleplay will advance over time. At first, in the form of skills or learning magics and arcane abilities, but later, they will gradually evolve and begin to turn into something beyond human.

    Power Information

    Ornias, rechristened as the Adversary, is your summoner into the strange world of Alheria. You come from a different world, not bound by fate or the cycles of the Divinities, and therefore are the ideal vessel to be shaped into a blade against them.

    Before the story begins, you may bargain with him to be granted some of the powers at his disposal. Some will be easier to obtain, some harder - mostly because he has a set of portfolios and finds going outside them costly or onerous. Ornias is the one who set the stars into motion and is also a universal 'sun god' and 'magic god' on Alheria, which means he can offer some related perks.

    On the more passive side, he could grant you armor woven of metal-sunlight, which glistens like gold and protects from all but the most fell of wounds. Or he may grant you the ability to be a fucking quasi-Kryptonian and metabolize sunlight over time, growing stronger little by little each day.

    On the more active side are abilities such as preternatural talent in magecraft and thaumaturgy, a general ability to manipulate electromagnetism (which is the medium for photons, with magnetism being the main defense against the sun in a purely heuristic sense), or similar abilities.

    Other blessings can be granted, but the more taxing the blessing is to obtain for him, the larger the cost he will impose. Make no mistake - Ornias is depressed by existence and has already committed himself to the idea that he will essentially commit suicide by plotting to achieve his goal of murdering his fellow Divinities and mucking up their vagaries in the world, but he wishes to do so smartly, and losing the power that could be spent on throwing them off elsewhere is stupidity.

    What do you get out of this? Whatever you desire. Once the quest to cast down the gods from their ivory towers is completed, Ornias claims, you will be among the most powerful beings left around. Use this power to your liking to reshape what's left, or go back to the worlds of your origin - he cares not, and indeed, may not be there to care when the deed is done.
< IN-CHARACTER >

Birdsie

The God-Emperor of Mankind
In-Character Rules
* Post your character's name above each post.
* Post your character's current location above each post.
* Try to post at least once every three days; more often, if possible. The more often we post, the easier it is to maintain the forward momentum against the inertia of inaction or laziness.
 
Chapter 1 - Intro, "Toxic Legacy"
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The conception of pointlessness was denied to the Divinities. They existed because they had to. Just as humans bred and lived, the Divinities breathed in entertainment and existence and breathed out deception and narcissism.

Ornias was the hermit of their flock, in that sense.

The constant 'breath' was nauseating to him, in much the same way that having sex with a woman was nauseating to a gay man, or eating a five-hundred pound cake would be to a bulimic teenager.

He did not truly keep track of when he began to feel this way. Once enough years pass, and your existence becomes a constant chain of events, things like 'time' and 'memory' seem to no longer hold any real meaning. The only major formative experience he could say with confidence that he 'recalled' was soon after his birth, when he'd set the stars into motion, spreading billions of them across the vastness of the cosmos, to provide light to the world that he and his siblings set about creating. He'd lost much of that venerated power since then.

Regardless, he could easily sit on his star-throne and slip away into a state of contemplation, where centuries would pass by without him noticing, when word came from his siblings asking him to come and play, much to his irritation.

Couldn't he be left alone to ponder the meaning of existing, as opposed to not?

After an hour and a half - literally - of thinking this and only this on loop, he decided to check what the fuss was about.

* * *​

As Ornias teleported into the neutral space where the Divinities so often liked to assemble - a round marble council room located on a floating island demiplane - he was greeted by one of his siblings.

"Brother," Summer greeted with a hint of derision.

"Save it, Summer," Ornias replied blandly, hiding his annoyance beneath a veneer of dry expressionless impassion. "Your milquetoast approach to existential philosophy causes me physical pain. There is nothing I would wish for more except for you to go to a far-away grove and make sweet love with a cactus."

"Ouch. Those words cut deep," Summer replied jokingly, but his grin did not abate. If anything, the cheeky bastard's lips curved more.

Ornias stepped past the irritant with disdain, into the hall, as he continued to grumble at him, "Yes. The deeper it cuts, the better for all of us. The spikier the cactus, the more useful it will be in popping your bubble of carcinogenic self-indulgence. I advise you to find a large one, else it may not even scrape the walls of your anal cavity."

Summer was left laughing outside the hall, while Ornias stepped in and assessed the atmosphere.

Summer was one of the four seasons - lesser deities - and technically, he was supposed to be Ornias' underling. Their relationship devolved into one of mutual hatred when Ornias got bored of making an example out of him, and he'd never really bothered since.

As expected, Spring was whoring herself out to anyone who would give her the time of day. Her focus right now was Shatarr, the much dreaded God of voids, absence, disappearance, death, and afterlife - and the Fates' appointed psychopomp. Perhaps Summer herself was hoping that he'd be able to disappear her underwear. Ornias himself hoped he'd instead vanish her blatant thottery.

There was only one person who could one-up Spring in those regards. "Must we really assemble in this frightful place? My domain would be much better for it. This place is so... dank and plain," Alathea, the goddess of love, seduction, courtship, friendship, relationships, and beauty complained.

Ornias sighed with closed eyes, as he sat down. "Woe betide Alathea should be seated somewhere plain."

Vertesstemaris, Nemeth, and Autumn laughed, while others did not share Ornias' confidence in her inability to be meaningfully damaging in the long-term.

"Ornias," Alathea greeted him coldly.

Ornias smiled ruefully, opening his eyes to glance at her with the twin wells of silver-orange star-power that were his eyes. "That's, 'Your Auriference' to you."

"Auriferous or not, you are late," Winter noted. She cared little for the decorum and implications of speaking out against one of the proper Divinities. The seasons were more like great spirits under them, with a wide pool of independence afforded to them. She was getting gutsy, perhaps taking advantage of his delay to paint herself in a better light.

But the light was his domain. "It is not my or your portfolio to decide who is late. Send an hourglass, if what you wish for is for me to keep the time, but I am not the God of Time, and I never have been. Do not expect me to simply throw away my duties to come to your latest game of 'let's shake up the mortal realm.'"

"Bullshit," Sekarthis stepped into the obvious bait. "You control the sun. You should be able to approximate the time from the position of Alheria relative to it."

"Alas," Ornias began, hiding his leery grin. "While the light of Solaris shines true, in the wake of my interstellar travail, I must always keep my consciousness dedicated to it. It would be so easy, otherwise, for its gleam to die out forever. But if you do truly find my tardiness so objectionable, I suppose I'll just poof it, and return it when our meeting is done." Ornias raised his left hand, and wreathed it in a nimbus of purple-blue plasma, poising his fingers as if he were about to snap them.

Everyone in the room winced, as Winter and Sekarthis began to declare their apologies.

Like honey to the ears.

If there was one thing left for him to enjoy, it was torturing them. Their obsession was - predictably, as always - balance on a cosmic scale, because it was the only existing rule and cover-up their kind had to create the necessary boundaries for themselves, and excuses for their indulgent birthing of demigods, constant games, and using mortals as dolls of crying flesh and splintered bone.

Disappearing the sun would throw the world into disarray, and so, he gripped the entire room by its balls.

Naturally, if he actually winked the sun away, they'd probably crucify him and put his head on a stake, then prepare a new God to take his place, but they knew Ornias was depressed enough he may have truly considered such a course of action.

Soon after, Marduk stepped into the room, and the proceedings began.

* * *​

The realm of Celestar was as soft and quiet as ever. Within Ornias' throne chamber - a locale as large as a cathedral - there was only room for contemplation.

Streams of halcyon sunlight peeked in through the open ceiling, rendering torches or artificial lights unnecessary. Everything was done in bright, rich colors: white, yellow, orange - more rarely, red or bright cyan. A white-gold carpet as long as a road from one city to another led to a set of twenty-eight marble stairs, upon which rested a blazing plasmic star-throne with a backrest so stupendously tall it seemed to meld into the natural light gushing from the ceiling. Superfluous white marble floors and walls, with pillars twice as thick as a man is tall, and thrice as elaborately and intricately decorated, with curlicue gold patterns pressed into black indents.

The excessive, almost senseless opulence, had originally been something he chose because he believed it to be tasteful. The days when Ornias believed it was tasteful had long since passed, but now the bedazzling decorations served a new purpose.

Ornias was fainรฉant at heart. Words of respect and reverence were wasted on him because, in his time, he'd heard all of them.

Nevertheless, he couldn't afford to lose his reputation by appearing simple and humble, and so chose to leave things be. The throne room could speak of its master's power, meaning he didn't have to waste a word on intimidation or awe. Mortals were material creatures, after all, and found such displays of grandeur to be impressive.

Ornias rested on his throne, as he lazily nursed a lamp of milky purple liquid.

The proceedings in the Hall of the Divine concluded an hour ago. He'd been left considering the implications of the latest 'game.'

For the last several cycles of these games, Ornias was growing restless. The constant shifts of power, to maintain the balance. Between chaos and order, good and evil. Even stable neutrality wasn't good enough, because neutrality would require divergence to repay for itself. The Divinities would never be satisfied, and would never stop their games.

He wasn't much better, but he'd had an hour to finish his musing.

Was killing his siblings an option?

It had been this kind of ridiculous conception he bore for several centuries, that he kept coming back to, but never seeing it through to the planning stage, let alone execution.

When it first occurred to him, to do such a thing, it was something of a passing idea. A stray thought, first and foremost. Something you'd only entertain for half a moment before dismissing it for being stupid. But then, at the speed of sound, he re-invited that stray thought.

And then he invited it to dinner, sipping from the cup of sweet nectar in his grasp.

Could he? Kill his siblings, lay waste to the other Divinities, burn down the tapestries of their hypocritical balance? Tear down the textiles of their indulgent competitions and tournaments? Make their flesh cry with blood, and their bones shatter into splinters? He tried to draw up that image in his mind's eye - and a plan had appeared in his imagination.

Perchance this 'game' was the perfect opportunity to set a scheme or two into motion. Though Ornias was never much of a schemer, he was always good at bending light. And if light was truth, who was not to say that he could be the greatest deceiver in history?

* * *​

"Rise and shine, o august assemblage," Ornias greeted the heroes, standing up from his throne.

Five seconds ago, each one of them had been doing their own thing, before suddenly appearing here.

It took some thought, but Ornias decided to summon multiple in diluted potency, rather than one or two heroes of great power. The point of deniable assets was to deny what they did, and he could more easily deny any involvement if there was a ludicrously unbelievable amount of them.

The God who stood before the group radiated power. He wore a cloak and robes underneath, veiled in stars and the darkness of the cosmos, moving and shifting to show a different sector of space as he did. It was as though the robe of classical wizards, blue with yellow stars, but taken to the highest level. His hair was dark-orange and snaked in the air like a downward flame, and his eyes were a pair of silver-orange wells of star-power, deeper than the sun's radiance itself.

Ornias spotted a heroine who appeared nude - Melora Adonis, his clairvoyant insight informed him. Before the others could see, he exercised his power and wreathed her in a silvery dress, actively choosing to pretend this had never happened, and hoping she appreciated the sentiment and never spoke of it.

"I am Ornias, the setter of stars, the God of magic and sunlight," he introduced himself. "I have plucked each and every one of you from your realms, in the hope that you will aid me in a great and noble quest for justice and vengeance. At the end of your quest, rewards greater than mortal comprehension await. Money enough to buy kingdoms, eternal life, supernatural power - any wish can be yours if you choose to listen to me.

"This world, you see, is beset by dark Gods who thirst for amusement, at the cost of mortal life. They dictate fate, play with mortalkind as little children with dolls, and alter the very fabric of the world to their will to shape it as their arrogance guides them. I have something of a score to settle with them and require aid to destroy them, and I fully believe that once properly trained, each of you will be a useful asset in this endeavor."

Having explained his plight, Ornias raised his voice, "Heroes. Introduce yourselves, and give me your answer to my call."



Kylesar1 Kylesar1 June Verles June Verles Safety Hammer Safety Hammer LostHaven LostHaven Noble Scion Noble Scion Archdemon Archdemon Epiphany Epiphany
 
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Priscilla Shaw
Celestar, The land between Time and Space - ??:??
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Priscilla stood there, mouth wide open as she stared at this impossible being and all of his extravagance, clutching her rusty sword that suddenly felt very heavy as her entire body trembled, legs notably threatening to cease trying to hold the rest of her up as she stood in a mixture of awe, disbelief, and immense amounts of fear at the failure of comprehension of where she was in contrast to where she had been, as well as what she was looking at. She didn't even attempt to look, choosing to try and size up what could only be a magician of some sort.

All she remembered was collapsing in a desert, struggling to breath through her dry throat with the blazing sun beating down on her, now she was hear, with what looked like the personification of that very same sun. Surprisingly, she felt rather rejuvenated, which would have been wonderful if it weren't for the fact that nothing made sense. Half-wondering if it was a hallucination from sunstroke, Risk wanted to pinch herself to check, but didn't dare.

"Priscilla Shaw..." she trailed off, finding her tongue weak as her dark blue eyes stared at the one that had declared themselves a god, a cold sweat flooding her body as her knuckles threatened to burst through her skin. She didn't dare using the fake name in case Ornias took insult to it.

Priscilla had never been a particularly religious person, given that the gods had never done anything to help her and her family, so the sudden acknowledgement that they actually existed combined with everything else was a little much for her.

".. I mean, I a.. Ah... Accept. " she struggled, answering quickly and apparently giving it no real thought, compelled to not say "no" to the astral being in the event that it decide to suddenly vaporise her or something. She'd heard enough stories about the creatures of the night, and if the gods created those things en masse, she didn't want to try doubting what they were capable of, she didn't care about the rewards, although they sounded inconceivable. She more so just wanted out of this strange place with her life in in her.

The red-haired girl didn't dare say anything else or even breathe, more out of fear than anything else, but successfully managed to prevent herself from falling over or fainting, barely.
Birdsie Birdsie
 
The White Wolf
Ravaged Village -> Realm of Celestar | Birdsie Birdsie

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry."


Tears seeped from the Wolf's eyes, streaming down, splattering against the bloodied ground, like melancholy rain. She wept even has her teeth begrudingly grinded upon bone, fleshless, picked clean by ravenous plague, and cried even as diseased flesh burned at her throat, threatening to drag the Wolf to the depths of the Underworld, along with its sickly host.

She moured; not for her own agony, but for the undeserved torment afflicted upon her prey. Even when she had crept into the desolated home under the fading moonlight, the walls still yet reverberated, and the air carried the horrid shrieks of a girl wracked by the tortuous pain delivered not by the wardens of the Underworld, but mortal men. When the Wolf drew near, she didn't cry for help, nor plead for her life. Their eyes met, and the Wolf immediately recgonized those of the girl. The Wolf, she knew those eyes well, for those were her eyes, desperate, with nothing left to hold onto; the eyes of one long past their hope's end. The Wolf knew what was left to be done, and the girl welcomed Death, the sweet liberator of this curse of life.

Had the Wolf still been in her prime, she would have, without a fleeting moment of hesitation, banished this wicked plague from the shores of this land, and back to the dark, murky recesses of their origin. Yet, with the mountains desecrated, her temple ravaged to naught but ash, and the Wolf herself at the nearing of her expiration, there was left not a miniscule trace of magic in her flesh, and no miracles left to give. The girl couldn't have been older than twenty, but all she could do was grant the girl relief from her affliction by Death's embrace.

Forcing her sickening meal down her throat, the final teardrop fell against the cold, unforgiving ground. The Wolf stood still, gazing at the bloodied floor, the only memory of the girl left upon this world. Rage, melancholy, madness, they boiled within the Wolf's chest as she let out a desperate cry into the sky, a scream of help, begging to the Gods, if they would hear, to save these men from such excrutiating ordeal. But, to the men of the village, ears long blinded by the vile lies of the foreign 'priests', they heard not the cries for their own salvation, but the cry of the demon beast, telling of yet another soul claimed by its jaws and taken by the night.

The by time the Wolf had ceased her mourning, the men had already surrounded the small home, armed with pitchforks, torches, and a variety of common tools that could easily be repurposed as a weapon. They cried in anger, calling out of the Wolf's execution.

"It's the fucking demon!"

"It ate Yuzuriha!"

"Kill it! We'll end the plague for good!


So, the girl's name. It was Yuzuriha. That was probably the time she had learned of her prey's name. At the same time, the Wolf also thought about the temptation of also taking Death's hand. She no longer had the power to help those that needed protection, and she thought, that at the very least, her death would bring peace of mind to the people, even if it were fleeting. While deep in contemplation before her inevitable end, the men had already encircled the home, the thatched roof and walls set ablaze. The wolf closed her eyes in resignation, as she allowed hellfire to take her.

And even when the fires died, bringing the Wolf to the edge of oblivion, the men still approached, and her body was pierced with pitchforks, mauled by hammers and mutilated with cleavers.

Finally, she realized. "Ah, this world. Humans. They're beyond saving now, aren't they?"

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When the Wolf's consciousness was returned to her, she found herself standing in, by immediate glance, what appeared to be a a throne room of sorts. However, what came to her notice first was not the gradiose decoration that illuminated the hall, nor the man that proclaimed himself God before her. Rather, it was a distinct, unfamiliar sensation that caught her off-guard. When she gazed downward, she found the source of this 'sensation'.

"I'm... Standing on two legs?" She murmured in astonishment, gazing emptily into her hands. Her eyes were overcome with surprise at being in some sort of humanoid form. Her head then peaked up, surveying the hall that surrounded her, though taking no note of the others that had similarly been summoned. "This is... Purgatory?" She asked, purgatory being the only logical explanation she could conceieve. And if that man, who proclaimed himself God really was who he had claimed to be, then she could only believe that this is where souls are judged.

Then, God made an announcement of sorts, detailing the current situation he, and by extension, those summoned were now in. Then, he requested their names. The beast-eared girl paused hesitantly, seemingly at a loss for how to respond. Name? How was she supposed to answer a question she didn't know? She wracked her brains for a response. Should she just declare her name to be 'The White Wolf'? That was what the humans called her, but in this situation, it seemed kind of silly. Had any of her human companions ever called her by a name? No, she didn't remember having any sort of nickname either.

This was quite the plight. And, the further she thought, the more unpleasant memories returned; her final meal, her mountains set ablaze by scarlet flame. "Yu..." She finally murmured hesitantly, voice laced with a tinge of guilt. "Yuzuriha..." she said, "Yuzuriha Hiyama."

Then, came the question of whether or not she would comply with God's request. In her mind, this was, undoubtedly some sort of trial through which God judged the souls of the dead, and thus the answer to that was clear as crystal. "I'll cooperate..."
 
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Sam Greyson
Location: Ornias' Domain
Interaction: Birdsie Birdsie Noble Scion Noble Scion LostHaven LostHaven


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Sam expected either a heavenly gate, the deep pits of hell, or maybe nothing when she died. To her surprise it was a large chamber of starlight with a figure sitting upon a throne in the shape of a star. You'd think that meeting God would put a sort of fulfillment and purpose in your existence, instead she was terrified. She backed away scared that she would be punished for killing herself.

The moment she started moving she heard the sound of metal and looked down. Where once she was wearing a hoodie and some slacks was replaced with armor and a sword. Was she expected to challenge this being? Was she just a soldier? Then the green hair showed itself. Her hair was green instead of honey blonde, she touched her face and it felt different.

Sam wasn't in her own body, she was in the body of her avatar from Re-excalibur. Then this meant she was dead, or at least dreaming the last few seconds before death. She looked at the godly figure and the bright lights began to make the room dizzy and blinding. She began hyperventilating, and she just wanted to Cry. Why was this happening? What is going on?

Then the figure began talking, which she instinctually flinched when he/it did so. The God called himself Ornias, and everyone present would have to complete a quest for any wishes they had. Why was she picked, she's just.... a person with nothing special than gaming knowledge, and having committed suicide. She looked at the other people and they all , or at least most looked way more qualified then Sam felt.

Ornias then went on more about the gods and how awful of people they were. He then told them that they would have to destroy them, which made Sam sink further into her non-existent shadow. He then ask for their names in which two other spoke up. One was a Red headed Girl who called herself Priscilla Shaw who had a ragged dirty look to her, and the other was a girl with animal ears named Yuzuhira hiyama.

Sam was shaking as she softly spoke but it was so quiet that the only sound she said out loud was "Grey..."
She had so many questions so she was too scared to ask them. All she did was just stand there shaking.
 
Henry J. Vanaheimer
Max Security Holding Cell, Death's Row -> Realm of Celestar | Birdsie Birdsie Kylesar1 Kylesar1 Noble Scion Noble Scion Archdemon Archdemon

Five hours left. The final day had come by so fast. Henry paced forward and back across his holding cell, humming a cheerful melody that danced harmoniously with the tapping of his cane. "Truly, a wonderful day, is it not, Warden?" The man chirped, only to greeted with violent slamming against the door, which looked more like a vault door with a tiny opening near the bottom to slide meals in.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" The 'Warden' in question barked at the top of his lungs. He among several other people had been tasked with guarding the cell of the infamous mass murderer, nicknamed The Painter of Red Streets, and it seemed like he'd had just about enough of the madman's muses. "YOU BET YOUR FUCKING ASS OFF TODAY'S A GREAT DAY, I WON'T HAVE TO PUT UP WITH YOUR SHIT IN FIVE HOURS!"

Henry, however, seemed to take no heed to the Warden's infuriated words, and continued to provoke the irritated man. "It is quite regrettable, since I still yet have so much work to do, but really, it was rather kind of the lawmakers to dictate that a man is able to choose what he wears at his execution. I believe my sentence was public hanging, yes? Truthfully, the world's really progressed, wouldn't you say? I'd heard by rumour that in the war, people were just stripped bare, and executed en masse via flooding an airtight chamber with toxic fumes. Ah, and other times, entire towns would get doused in toxic gas. I heard the most frequently used one melted your body from the inside-out. Quite barbaric, wouldn't you say?"

Another frenzied round of banging against Henry's door, followed by a bombardment of crude words from the Warden, now clearly angered. "SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH, OR DO I NEED TO COME IN HERE AND BEAT YOUR CREEPY ASS RIGHT NOW?!"

"Please, Warden, please do hold back such on unrefined and crude language, it is unbefitting of a fine gentleman such as yourself! Ah, yes, might I also suggest more thorough checks need to be made when clothes are delivered to prisoners on their death-day. Security is, after all, of utmost importance in this establishment, yes?" At this point, the Warden was fuming. He was being mocked by a madman, and he was having none of it.

"OH YOU LITTLE MOTHERFUCKER, YOU'RE GOING TO GET IT NOW!" The Warden yelled, followed by the distinct roar of the oversized lock as it was being opened.

"Oh dear, I seem to have overdone it a bit." Henry chirped, brandishing a gilded switchblade with roses etched into the blade and handle. Really, more thorough checks seriously did have to be made for any hidden pockets, even if the hidden pocket was inside the hat. That said, despite being armed, there really wasn't much chance he'd be able to overpower the Warden. Oh well, it is what it is, it wasn't as if Henry had any better option left. Other than just dying there and then, of course. The door swung wide open, a horrified and utterly perplexed expression spread across the Warden's face. The Painter of Red Streets - he had, by some twisted miracle, disappeared from the cell.

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Henry found himself standing in some form of hall, riddled with grandiose decorations which, if Henry had to say, was quite dramatic and rich with taste. Around him were other other unfamiliar people, and before them stood a man whose visage was so imposing that he could be none other than God himself. However, what caught Henry's eye the most was the blonde woman who was riddled with wounds, some fresh and others old, who was also entirely bare. He walked toward her, rhythmic footsteps in sync with the taps his cane made against the ground. Then, he paused in front of Melora, and stared at her silently for a few moments, whatever facial expression he could possibly be making obscured entirely by his featureless mask. "Whoever could have the mind to do such a thing to a young woman must be a condemnable animal." Henry mused, though of course, that was simply hypocrisy coming from him. He swiftly averted his attention to the 'God' when a dress, seemingly woven out of nothingness wrapped itself the woman.

"So," Henry chirped, "You, God, have grown discontent with this dull cycle, and thus have employed us to play the role of a hitman in a bid to eliminate the root cause of this cycle, and to make this world... fresh." The masked man chuckled to himself light-heartedly, nodding. "I must say, I can't disagree with your words. A spectacular show can only be spectacular for so long before it becomes repetitive and monotonous. Well enough, those Deities will bring me my greatest work yet; their ichor my paint and whatever 'divine sanctuary' they dwell within, my canvas." At this point, it was probably evident that the suspiciously dressed mask man was rather eccentric at best, and a few screws loose in the head at worst.

Henry dipped his hat and bowed before the divinity that had summoned him. "My name is Henry Jaethiel Vanaheimer. It is a pleasure to make your acquantaince, God."
 
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Melora Adonis
Village Square

Melora knew it was her end. She had been dragged through town tied to the back of a horse. Glass was shattered and thrown out for her cut her body on. Heretic. That's what she was called and that accursed word was what they all chanted at her. It rang through her mind and settled in her brain like oil and water. She hated to hear it, that one word that caused so much pain and death.
Heretic
That one word that didn't always used to be
Heretic
That single destructive word that just now became the term used to prosecute those who used magic after centuries of it never being a problem
Heretic
That one word, that single word now co-opted and used by humans to push away other gods and punish those who didn't abide by the word of some unknown god too weak to bestow their followers with the magic necessary to carry out their word.

Melora was beyond being bitter. She knew she was going to meet her maker, and she never had a shred of regret in her body when it came to healing those that needed it, though she did seek the confession booth after doing it to repent. "Never apologize for living your truth," Sister Seya told her at prayer once, "If gods and goddesses bestow the power of magic upon us, outlawing it is the sin, not using it." It made sense to her, but since she was still breaking the law and having to deceive the guards and the Inquisition, it was still worth going to confessions over. "Forgive the king, Melora, for he knows not what he does. When you forsake Their gifts, They will revoke them." The preacher once told her.

As she was chained to the stake and her body bleeding from being dragged across broken glass and jagged iron, through her cries of physical pain and pleading to actually live, she experienced inner peace. Did she want to die? Absolutely not. Did she want to die in this manner? A bigger absolutely not. Was she accepting her death..............yes. A mixture of helplessness and an unfamiliar voice within her, which she assumed was her maker, gave her inner peace.

As the burning crept at her feet and seared her soles, causing the pain to shoot through her entire body, her screams became a facade, a smokescreen to disguise her inner clarity in preparation for her soul to depart this world. As the lion of flames got bored licking at her feet and decided to pounce at her throat, her vision was distorted from its hot breath, making a heatwave lens to look at her hecklers to. "Oh..........." her heart said to her brain tearfully. "I healed her.........She knows who I am."

"Never put your trust in the flesh of man! It will give way to nothing more than pain! They will come to hate you and, just like the snake, they will stab you in the back!" Her preacher screamed from the pulpit. Face sweaty, Church smelteringly hot from his fire and brimstone sermon. "When you put your trust in the word of your god, you will NEVER be steered wrong!" The sermon overall scared her, but she understood what he was saying NOW. "For the hellbound, it will bring them nothing less than joy seeing you fall alongside them, irredeemable, into the lakes of burning fire and sulfur!" When humans determine the boundaries of the gifts of GODS, it ends in this. Killing faithful followers in the name of the same god. If they didn't want them using magic, they would've just taken their gifts away. They were interactive like that. Anyone that strayed too far from their god's word would lose their magic or worse..........have that magic literally consume them. That was an effective way for the gods THEMSELVES to weave out the heretics

Melora stopped feeling the burn from the stake and her body was weakening. Melora had no final words for these people. She couldn't speak them over her screams and their chanting "Burn! Burn! Burn!" anyways. "My goddess.........taught me to forgive.............I would heal all of you again...............in...............a heart...............beat..............."




---------------------------------


Realm of Celestar

Melora came to in a strange place. Completely bare. "You go to the lord in whatever you were wearing or whatever you were buried in. Depends on when the rites were performed." Well she was bare, looking at her scars. She wasn't bleeding anymore, but those cuts and those burn scars were definitely there. Littered across her body like it was god's beautiful, fearful, wonderfully divine design, they only reminded her of the pain she just experienced seconds ago. It wasn't Her design at all. There were other people there as well and she immediately looked to cover herself and get herself out of view. Luckily, she didn't need to cover herself for long as she was bestowed a beautiful silver dress before anyone could see it. Before she could speak a word of thanks though, he began speaking

When he spoke, she realized that it was indeed the voice that called out to her before her death. He required aid in destroying the divine? It dawned on her that, if this WAS her maker, this wasn't the afterlife. If she rejected this offer, THEN would she be sent to the afterlife because certainly she was dead on earth. They burned the witch as they so chanted. Would she go to heaven for the life she lived? Hell because she was deemed a heretic? The void due to the contradiction in the two? She didn't know, but this seemed like the void as it was. Neither Heaven nor Hell. It was what she believed those who didn't serve ANY god would go. Floating in endless space, neither in paradise nor in torture.

Melora didn't want to roll the dice on her uncertainty as to the maker's response should she choose to reject this offer and move on to the afterlife. The woman was given a second chance at life and she wasn't gonna overturn it. "My name is Melora Adonis! I accept your proposition!" she called out

Birdsie Birdsie Noble Scion Noble Scion LostHaven LostHaven Archdemon Archdemon
 
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Vi Enceladus

LA Class ROYAL Interface - 22H-F-HWROY Profile

System Status: Running
LA Oversight Network Status: Offline (No Signal Detected)
LA GAP Chipset Status: Offline (Structural Damage Detected)
LA GAP Reactor: Running
LA GAP Integrated Defense: Paladin-class MK IV Multipurpose Defense Arm (Offline - No Reactor Detected)
LA GAP Integrated PFS: Nyis-class, 22H-F-HWROY variant (Offline - No Reactor Detected)
SynthWeave Integrity: 92%
SynthWeave AR Protocol: Running
Personal Telemetry: Running
Corgi Telemetry: Offline (No Signal Detected)
Time/Date Stamp: Offline (No Signal Detected)

Celly took a sharp breath, astonished to be able to do so. The memory of the Night Stick flamed through her short-term memory like a strobe light, sudden in its immediacy, intense in its lux output, and gone just as quickly. No one had predicted the Uprising. It should have been impossible. Oversight existed for that very purpose. It's why the approach of that security guard hadn't raised her suspicion. Her Nyis-class Personal Force Shield would have protected her but she'd just left the theater and had no reason to raise it against one of London Arcology's trusted enforcers.

She took another breath and marveled that there was no residual pain. Anesthesia? Had EMS swooped her up, put her in a Regeneration Chamber and run a full cycle without rousing her to consciousness?

No. No amount of medicine would explain why she stood there, upright, in front of a wizard.

An alien wizard apparently. Celly had the vaguest recall of ancient fantasy stories, enough to classify the distinct cloak and robe outfit as conforming to the Neo Tolkien genre of the 32nd century, though what was 'new' about it escaped her. Was this a simulation? The Bostrom Theory suggested it probably was. Sadly, she didn't have a Science Rig on hand to examine Planck-length to confirm or deny pixelation; the standard Bostrom test for thousands of years.

Then the wizard proclaimed himself a God and Celly relaxed slightly, now convinced this was a simulation. She needed data to determine its purpose but at least she knew this mad experience wasn't the result of nonconforming reality. And if she were mad, her personal telemetry would tell her.

Noble Scion Noble Scion
Other answers prompted her to finally look around and note the appearance of her evident companions. Priscilla Shaw conformed to the fantasy trope, up to and including bearing a sword. Celly glanced downwards at herself and noted with some interest that she wore her SynthWeave with no fantasy weapons in evidence. Not that she needed them.

LostHaven LostHaven
Yuzuriha Hiyama also conformed to the trope, lacking weapons but wearing animal ears instead. Before it'd been outlawed by the Rhea-Celes Articles of 5122, genemodding had been a popular thing of the past. This was of course a simulation so Celly didn't spare a thought to how someone had gotten around the prohibition.

Archdemon Archdemon
The shaking fantasy soldier nearby said only "Grey". She also looked rather traumatized. Actually, they all did. Had they had near-death experiences as well? The degree of anxiety and stress on their faces were indicative of tremendous trauma and poor gene-design. Were they the illegal products of sexual reproduction? They must be Outcasts from beyond the Arcologies. No Citizen was capable of that much terror, after all. Their neurophysiological processes were largely proofed against that.

LostHaven LostHaven
This Henry Jaethiel Vanaheimer appeared to be the only individual in this collection inclined to play along with the simulation. He was even getting 'into character'. His costuming, while obviously theatrical, didn't conform to the standard fantasy trope archetypes Celly was familiar with, though. That was...odd. Why have this level of attention to detail to the God, his throne room or to most of the 'companions' assigned to this 'quest' and not follow through?

Kylesar1 Kylesar1
Melora Adonis in her silver dress was at least consistent with the others. The same curiously histori-ethnic names, the same fantasy trope costuming and the same look of elevated stress on her face, the same pupil dilation suggesting recent fear or panic via an unregulated sympathetic nervous system. Did none of these people come from a properly engineered geneline? That should be impossible.

Unless of course they weren't real participants facing a simulated reality in-character but more simulations. In fact, the odds were good they were, simulations one and all.

@ everyone
Ornias had asked for an answer so she gave him one. "I am Vi Enceladus." Her lips quirked into a reflexive smile. "But call me Celly. Like the rest of this 'party', I accept your call. Where do we go to find our trainer?"

I need to create a Quest Log for this simulation.
 
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The God's eyes washed over them, like twin floodlights of crushed jewels twinkling on his face. His sight was light itself, but a particular form of light: It was neither the oppressive sun of the desert nor the fleeting warmth of sunlight concealed by the horizon in a cold tundra. It was a piercing, but invisible ray, as if reaching into their very essence to extract some truth from it.

With a huff of satisfaction, Ornias glanced at Vi Enceladus, muttering, "A simulation, is that what you think?"

He disabled the overbearing effect and fell into step down the stairs of his throne.

The throne room began to darken. The soft light streaming in through the ceiling became veiled in umbra as if they were in a forest, the thicket of leaves covering up the sky above them.

In place of light, in the darkness surrounding them like a black fog, stars began to twinkle. Small, accurate, three-dimensional representations of the cosmos. Constellations dancing out in patterns that seemed both familiar and alien.

Ornias stepped through the milky black fog and held out his hand. The stars began to shift in size, becoming larger and moving away simultaneously, as he focused on a single one, floating above his palm. The star had a number of orbs floating around it, in various colors. Ornias gestured to one that had verdant splendor giving definition to vast morasses of deep azure - an inhabited world - and it grew to the size of a beachball.

"This is Alheria. A bastardized version of Alherios, a word that means, 'Blessed Creation.' This world is the chief playtoy of the Divinities, such as the ones we'll be terminating," Ornias described.

He held the planet with both hands to either side, then threw it forward. The ball expanded, to cover the entire throne room, and within moments, they were seeing an up-close, three-dimensional image of a vast wheat field. In the distance, carts were being pulled along by peasants, and white-brown windmills spun their rotors in the wind.

More images flashed by - scenes of verdant forests with scenic groves of diamond-blue water, wastelands of ash with jagged obsidian spires reaching for the sky, a neolithic desert city built within a valley teeming with life.

At length, Ornias began to regale them with an abbreviated and concise explanation of the world.

"Alheria has a little over two-hundred species of sapient life forms. The reason I use 'a little over' is because the definition of 'sapient life forms' is, of course, subjective, and so limited by the purview you choose to apply it in. The most influential, politically and economically, are in no particular order: elves, dwarves, humans, and orcs. Each species has several flags it gathers under, with varying levels of cosmopolitan meritocracy. Some countries have, for instance, achieved a post-industrial renaissance, while some regions hilariously struggle with architecture more complex than lean-to cabins. There are many forms of magic and metaphysical power available to everyone on Alheria, sometimes inherent in species, but usually learnable by everyone determined enough to make the right inquiries."

With a sweep of the wrist, he changed the images around them. Vast buildings of colorful marble. Wizardly spires with spinning energy orbs mounted atop. Orcish mountain-bases where warbands cheer while drinking ale and seemingly cannibalizing the corpses of slain enemies from other clans.

"Alherian society is, currently, bound together by a shaky, globe-spanning alliance known as the Empire of Common Cause. It is a heavy motor that faces a constant and unending stream of bureaucratic setbacks, realpolitik manipulations, and dubious policies that result in every decision being a slog. It often takes years to come to an agreement on a genuine issue that had already faded into obscurity or irrelevance months ago, making voting inefficient, and the organization ultimately pointless. It is chiefly presided over by the Emperor or Empress, who is elected from the body of councilors, and rules for life unless he abdicates, or is killed. The current Emperor, Morrigan Prentiss, is a callow and bellicose youth, barely twenty years of age, pushing for a war with the orcish hordes, and employing a near-totalitarian rule over all of the Empire's member countries."

Ornias gave them a rueful smile. "The violent removal of this organization is one of the primary goals of the Divinities in the upcoming cycle and is likely going to result in the loss of life in the scale of millions. The goal here is to contradict the Fates and deny them progress and any powerbase they can earn through potential worship or worldly manipulation. For these reasons, you can consider it one of the primary goals to prevent the collapse of the Empire, and its continued persistence an essential ingredient for destroying the enemy. The primary goal can be achieved either by killing the heroes chosen by the other Gods - a concept rather far-fetched - or simply by bolstering the Empire against their strikes, and potentially reforming it into an efficient model, which would likely grate on them and give us more time without making it overly obvious that we're after them."

"That's our mission one," Ornias concluded, raising a hand. The lights returned, shining in from above, and covering the room in natural sunlight. "Any questions, remarks, or strategical insights, before I explain the whimsical vagaries of magic, and metaphysics, that are natural to Alheria, as well as the options I am willing to grant you in order for you to achieve a starting base of increased supernatural prowess?"


Kylesar1 Kylesar1 June Verles June Verles Safety Hammer Safety Hammer LostHaven LostHaven Noble Scion Noble Scion Archdemon Archdemon Epiphany Epiphany
 
Dragoศ™ Constantin
Court House ------> Celestar
1578698546008.png

Some people say that old age there aren't many things that you can look forward to and for someone who has experienced so much in their life some might believe that would be the case for Revolutionary Extraordinaire, with a long repertoire in causing government gunfire. Regardless, that was clearly not the case as the man was walking towards the jail house with two armed guards at each of his sides, a smile on his face. You see he was recently arrested for being the sole suspect in multiple burglary, theft and public defamation of the mayor's manor in his local commune. So excited was he about this even that he even bothered to put on his best tracksuit.

Long story short when they got there they couldn't pile any real incriminating evidence on him as he used a little trick known as putting nail varnish on your fingers to hide fingerprints marks, and he made sure to get rid of the camera footage. In reality all this would be a nice way to get a laugh out of the futile effort of the mayor... except it didn't go like that. You see apparently they somehow found his fingerprints on a rock near the crime scene or something completely and utterly ridiculous, from the smile of the prosecutor it was clear to tell that this evidence was fabricated.

Not being someone to go to jail for another long period of time without putting his word in, when he was asked for a final say he simply stood upon his defence desk, pulled his trousers down and as the flood gates opened to let out the golden stream he'd say; "F-

* * * * *

"uck off you absolute wastes of oxygen....?" The man would pause as he suddenly found himself in another amphitheatre, figuratively and literally caught with his pants down. Luckily those Hegel exercises helped close off the flood gates before anything too embarrassing happened.

Luckily for the man he was at the back, so probably the visage of that little pointy eared man with a weird green screen effect going on inside of his shirt. What sort of pagan was he on about that there were multiple gods, realms and shit? Did this mean that those retarded neo-pagans that kept floating around were right all along? Well he supposed it was better than an eternity in hell, not by a large margin though.

Because you see, one thing he hates more than the potentiality of an infinite amount of time spent in torture beyond his comprehension is being ordered around by some clearly entitled prick who acted in a high and mighty manner. What was the point of doing that if you were a literal God? What was he afraid we were going to snitch to some other gods and ruin his reputation? Absolutely pathetic.

Regardless, he was probably not going to be allowed to go back and continue pissing on the legal system of Romania without at least doing whatever this hocus pocus bogus man wanted from them.

"Taking one look at the people here and following along with the fact that we only have one god at our side as opposed to the rest of the pantheon I must admit that going to fight those "Heroes" would result in a bigger pizdec than 1989. But why would you need us to help bolster the empire? Wouldn't it be just as simple to give divine revelations to the people in charge in order to effectively combat these heroes? Or are they more likely to listen to a bunch of cykas showing up to their door and telling them how to do their job?"

Birdsie Birdsie
 
Henry J. Vanaheimer
Realm of Celestar | Birdsie Birdsie (and everyone else that I can't be bothered to tag because I'm trying to write a phone.)

"So, what you are attempting to say, is that despite this 'Empire' standing in the way of progress, it would be preferential to allow it to stand, in the interest of furthering 'our' objective." Henry silently thought to himself, though opted not to interrupt seeing as how such an act would, even by mortal standards, be rather impolite. Another tyrannical Empire, he thought. Henry began to ponder the connection between an 'Empire' and tyranny accompanied by a potentially mad, and undeniably incapable ruler, or in this case, 'Emperor'. It had been, after all, a similar scenario in his world too - save for the 'Emperor' who was a crazy, paranoid old man.

Only when Ornias had verbally consented to any queries, did Henry raise a gloved hand in the air. "I have two queries, God," he announced. "I'd like to inquire about these 'Heroes'. Are they, similarly to those gathered here, brought forth from a distant world, or simply residents of this 'Alheria' granted 'divine providence' by the 'Gods'?" Judging by the attires of the group gathered, Henry had quickly surmised that each likely hailed from a different world, so it wouldn't be farfetched that these 'heroes' are the same. "Secondly, you mentioned that some countries have 'achieved a post-industrial renaissance'. Would you kindly elaborate on the state of technological advancement of these aforementioned 'countries?' For example, have any of them reached the state of developing a Nuclear Bomb, or do they struggle to grasp the workings behind dynamite?"

Of course, while it was questionable whether most of the people in the room would be able to even comprehend what a nucelar bomb, or dynamite was, Henry saw it imperative to gain at least a small grasp on how this world of Alheria was in terms of advancement. For example, if the development of a nuke was possible, then obtaining the materials to create Compound H3L-H31M would be relatively simple compared to if it were an age that still believed explosions to be product of dark sorcery. That said, magic, according to God, existed, so perhaps that wasn't the best analogy. Secondly, if the history of his own world were anything to go by, the state of technological advancement would also provide a good idea of how far common knowledge has come, which would offer an acceptable insight regarding what sort of weaponry was most effective. It would, after all, serve in Henry's overwhelming advantage if it was common sense that you would be immune to poison gas if you were to plug your ears, and obsessively sniff an onion, scrape your knee with a knife and proceed to kneel and pray to God. Especially so if these 'Heroes' also had the same 'common sense'.
 
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"That's a very layered question," Ornias answered to Dragos' concerns. "But I'm glad you raised it. It is good to know you'll be trying to think about such things - we'll need that kind of tactical mindset going forward."

The God shifted, face hardening as he explained, "To actually answer your query: We Divinities operate on precepts of the 'balance of power.' If I put an egg into one basket, the scales shift, and demand something in return. Making nudges is easy. Making nudges with people who believe in me, and follow my word, is easier yet. But it is never without a cost, no matter how trivial or great it would be. To affect figures of great stature - even if mortal - would be risky for me, on several levels. Not only in terms of power expenditure, but also in terms of fate. I am capable of deception, but not the most subtle of Gods, and I would likely leave tracks the others would latch onto."

Ornias raised his hand. As if they'd been there before, but invisible to the naked eye, spectral lines of dark purple appeared in the air, wavering as if moved by unseen pulses or waves. They curved around Ornias' fingers, some forming into knots, while others split away and went in opposite directions. Like a complicated constellation of lines.

"We Divinities have limited powers of prophecy, which let us draw out the future, and it is possible that one of the others would notice intervention on my part, and begin to harbor suspicions. This is not the case with you. I summoned you from other worlds, which means the fate of this world does not apply to you. You will remain unnoticed even if you affect society on a significant level, unless one of the Gods were to put you under direct scrutiny. I imagine this might happen if you frustrate them enough, but only if they have reason to believe someone like you is pulling the strings - which itself is unlikely - as they are more probably going to accuse each other of foul play. Even if not, scrutiny would obviously cost them other things. It is a fine game of balance that we're playing, and it's critical we don't take too many unnecessary risks."

Having answered Dragos' questions, the deity turned instead to Henry, who asked two questions of his own. Ornias gave them a moment of thought, then answered.

"According to my knowledge, the Divinities are only meant to grant divine providence to those already present on Alheria. It is not impossible to bind someone from another world to the fate of this one, but most of them wouldn't bother." Ornias smiled, in that rueful manner that seemed to come naturally to him. "Summoning you, without binding you to fate, was something of an illegal move on my part. Either way, it's not entirely out of the question that another of the Fates had summoned a hero from another world, but it's decisively unlikely."

As Ornias answered the second question, he pulled up images - or videos, rather - of events and items.

The first was a figure of sickly-pale yellow light, shining and flying maybe ten yards above the ground, its dissonant light flensing away skin from soldiers' flesh and making them double over and dry heave on the ground. Those nearest to the glowing figure had their armor vaporized, their skins melted into wet, charred flesh, in seconds, and were then set fully ablaze moments later, dropping to the ground and trying to put themselves out, before their thrashing stopped. The images skipped 'forward,' showing the survivors in a hospital, with blackened, charred streams of blood going down their eyes, mouths, and noses. They vomited blood, clutched their stomachs, seized, and begged for the mercy of death. A quick time-lapse of the hospital room showed none of them survived in the end.

Another event. Two armies were in a battle for dominance over what appeared to be a temple on a hill. The temple had a conclave of men and women in bright, decorative robes, standing on a rooftop, holding hands around a blazing, blue ritual circle that had the radius of an eighteen-wheeler's full length. Within moments, the skies began to darken, pouring down a storm of hail - icy stones as big as fists and moving with the speed of furious bullets towards the ground - onto the armies. Discharges of lighting followed, too fast and frequent to be normal lightning, aimed towards thick clusters of soldiers and trying to electrocute as many as possible at a time. The first meteor of conflagrated, smoldering black rock fell from the sky only moments later, taking a squad of at least ten soldiers with it.

There was an image - so still it might have been frozen, but was a video or live feed of events like the others on closer scrutiny - showing a ruined, abandoned city of tall skyscrapers and towers. The sky was grey and overcast, the buildings and roads ancient and decayed, as though unattended for at least a hundred years. The city had thick vines of red flesh spreading through the streets like a corrupt arterial system, connected to some kind of heart that couldn't be seen, presumably in the center of the city. Giant, slithering things moved through the streets at the speed of running elephants, clad in many colors of flesh, from red and brown to pale gray and orange, bearing dozens of eyes in a plethora of styles of colors. There were other monsters; several humanoid, while others were almost like a mutated cross of a mosquito and a scorpion, feasting on corpses, before picking them up and flying off with them to the heart that remained unseen with the angle of the feed.

He stopped the images there, letting the last one hang in the air for a little bit. With that, Ornias looked down at Henry.

"The answer to your question is no. There are no nuclear weapons, as your mind strictly defines them, on Alheria," Ornias began, "However, there are weapons of mass destruction equivalent to them, or perhaps worse. You will no doubt learn of them in time, for their terrible rumors if nothing else. The Fel Seed, the Elementals of the Fifth Age, the Exclusion Zones, the Void Crystal Mega-Bombs, and so on, and so on. Many of them aren't an active threat. Some of the minor ones - like the void mega-bombs - still see use in large-scale wars from time to time, but if one is to be deployed, I would be able to predict it at least several years in advance. Unless one of you were to be responsible for it."


Kylesar1 Kylesar1 June Verles June Verles Safety Hammer Safety Hammer LostHaven LostHaven Noble Scion Noble Scion Archdemon Archdemon Epiphany Epiphany
 
Melora Adonis
Realm of Celestar

So this was it. This god was actually employing them..........a group of...........well she didn't know, but she herself was a healer who was only good at fencing........employing a group of complete unknowns brought about by different worlds to take on this group of divinities. Melora couldn't even process the fact that there even WERE other worlds, let alone all being brought together. She wasn't a good fighter! She sighed deeply, not knowing exactly what she got herself into, but knowing it wasn't gonna be easy or fun.

As the images of war were shown, Melora found her stomach churning heavily. This was too much. It was horror to the highest degree. She has seen some of the horrors of war, and with magic at play, there certainly WAS horror, but this was on a whole new level. In her world, the intent was to kill. However, this seemed like..........sadism. It was overkill in a way that made her believe that at least one these gods were taking joy in watching these horrors from above/below. One just didn't go this far to make people suffer. Melora found her chest heaving and her breath a little short. She had to turn away before her stomach imploded and she hurled her guts to the middle of this room. "I'd like to avoid doing that to the people of that world if we can avoid it," she said, sounding tired all of a sudden. She knew she would have to confront death, and she had.........one couldn't save them all of course, but this was something that she believed would need to be very very extreme to ever justify. This made her burning at the stake seem like a peaceful passing of natural causes.

Melora turned away and slammed her eyes shut, trying to purge her mind of the images she's seen. "I have no questions," Melora said, holding her stomach. She was anxious to move on to the next subject, the one concerning magic. "Please don't show me something like that without a warning again." Melora had seen some bad bad stuff, but she was still particularly squeamish at what looked like sadistic gore
 
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Henry J. Vanaheimer
Henry was a little bit startled at first, upon Ornias pulling out several projections midair, with image quality far superior to the gimmicky items from his world. Though, he largely attributed that to the fact that 'cameras' and whatever Ornias seemed to be using operated completely differently to the machinery he was familiar with.

A grin of pure, diabolical joy spread across Henry's pale face upon witnessing the devastation afflicted by the unsettling, yellow light, which bore very similar, ruinous effects and aftereffects of the nuclear bomb. Despite this, no wicked intent was able to seep through the mask. To those around him, the masked man would only appear unfazed, though in reality, his heart was dancing in delight - akin to a child who had stumbled across a new toy. He couldn't wait to get his hands on some of these, he thought. Especially the Void Mega-Bomb - just the name itself made Henry chuckle to himself. There were so many weapons Henry had planned to play with, and now, he had an excuse to play with the flashier ones, and still get away with it, even under the sky governed by gods, not to mention, these 'Gods' too, would become subject to his... work. To that end, there was one more, essential question he must see clarified.

"Then, God, I have one more question," Henry hastily added, voice laced with a tinge of excitement to small, that it was virtually undetectable. "Do the laws and fundamentals of chemistry still function the same as in this one, or does it differ from that of my world?" Of course, even if it did function the same, there was also the chance that some elements don't exist on Alheria, and on the other hand, also have new elements. Though, in Henry's mind, that wasn't as important, since if that were the case, he'd always have time to experiment.


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Yuzuriha Hiyama
Realm of Celestar
It was beginning to dawn of Yuzuriha that where she stood wasn't exactly purgatory. After listening intently to Ornias, the story was beginning to sound more like that the God had pulled each and every one of the people here out of the natural cycle, and they've each become chess pieces in a game of chess that was one God against an entire pantheon of them. And from God's explanation, they sounded more like pawns compared to their to-be adversaries, who in turn sounded more befitting of the prominent pieces. However, that wasn't exactly an insult. A pawn, though insignificant, can become unimaginably powerful is left unwatched. And that, apparently, sounded like Ornias' plans exactly.

"I don't have any questions." She answered plainly, listening to the queries of the others, and Ornias' responses. That was until Ornias came to answering Henry's inquiry regarding 'technological advancement' or something, following which Ornias promptly displayed several brutal recordings of men being massacred - especially the aftermath of the strange yellow light. Her eyes widened in horror: skin on bone, crying for death to take them, it reminded Yuzuriha of the short time prior to Ornias' summons. Immediately, she felt her stomach churn as acid rose to her throat. She felt sick in the stomach, and wanted to hurl. Clasping her hands over her face, expending all the strength within her body and soul in an attempt to not throw up.

After several excrutiating seconds, she felt the burning at her throat subside, and with an exasperated sigh, lowered her hands in relief. She felt nauseous, and the hall was spinning. "That's... sickening..." She murmured meekly as she began to stare at the ground, hoping that everything would move along soon.
 
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Vi Enceladus

LA Class ROYAL Interface - 22H-F-HWROY
System Status: Running
LA Oversight Network Status: Offline (No Signal Detected)
LA GAP Chipset Status: Offline (Structural Damage Detected)
LA GAP Reactor: Running
LA GAP Integrated Defense: Paladin-class MK IV Multipurpose Defense Arm (Offline - No Reactor Detected)
LA GAP Integrated PFS: Nyis-class, 22H-F-HWROY variant (Offline - No Reactor Detected)
SynthWeave Integrity: 92%
SynthWeave AR Protocol: Running
Personal Telemetry: Running
Corgi Telemetry: Offline (No Signal Detected)
Time/Date Stamp: Offline (No Signal Detected)

The 'God' activated some kind of active scanning technology. It looked a little like a full spectrum analysis run by a Science Rig, only there was the wholly unnecessary, entirely theatrical light display. Ornias' off-hand remark about her conclusion this was a simulation was a statement designed to instill doubt, to pose an implicit question beyond the surface question. And yet, it was impossible for it to be otherwise. Beyond the fact that eyes couldn't spontaneously generate light, doing so in that fashion would have blinded the God via light diffusion through the cornea, through the pupil and into the optic nerve. An outcome completely contrary to the suggestion that he'd 'scanned' them.

Then Ornias went on to indulge in exactly the kind of live-model simulation that people used simulations for. If this was intended to confuse her ability to distinguish between reality and fantasy, why did he keep doing things only explicable via simulation? At least the lore dump was useful. Alheria. Alherios. She might need to build a working dictionary if language was going to be a problem...which it probably wouldn't be, mostly because even simulation designers couldn't maintain a practical high-fidelity sim by going deep on every possible complexity. An AI could automate language translation from their base script to whatever language these Altherian locals might use but why consume unnecessary LiveClock cycles?

"Two hundred species?" Celly's remark was for herself and she shook her head a bit incredulously at the number. Definitely a sim. Modern design theory had substantial support for the hypothesis that multiple populations of sentience resulted in the rise of an environmental optimizer, sooner than later. The odds of no optimizer arising in two hundred species, or even the odds of two hundred independent genelines developing sentience strained any credulity. But it didn't have to be logical to work in a sim.

June Verles June Verles
Dragos' questions merited an apprecative nod from her and she listened intently to Ornias' explanation. When the God finished, Celly spoke up to say, "And there's a more elementary reason 'why us'. We're the protagonists."

LostHaven LostHaven
Now, Henry's questions really caught Celly's attention. Despite his odd, aperiod costuming, he was the first to mention technology beyond the scope of the fantasy trope consistent with this simulation. Pleased, Celly studied the man more closely, beginning to anticipate his interest in replicating ahistorical weapons to overthrow the simulation's default setting. Clever. Very clever.

And yet, something about him unsettled her. For once in her life, Celly didn't know why either. The Blood Royal in general were bred to be extraordinarily perceptive and a 22H-F-HWROY like herself even more so. Masks complicated analysis but didn't halt it. And yet, he...something about him wasn't consistent. A deviation of some kind from every baseline model Celly knew of. Subtle enough she couldn't put a finger on it. She needed data. Hopefully time would provide the rest.

Birdsie Birdsie
The God's description of how Divinities worked was noteworthy, for the sake of creating a lore entry of course. She didn't put any especial mental effort into breaking down the implications of the God's limits or functionality. Doubtlessly an exploit would arise and the simulation designer would patch it.

When Ornias projected various horrors, Celly nodded dutifully at their graphic detail. Designers always liked cutscenes to showcase their talent. It had the advantage of providing a collection of visual patterns and qualities to track and avoid or exploit when encountered. The God's concluding remarks about a lack of nuclear technology reminded her of the tiny fusion reactor built into her SynthWeave, evidently still running according to her Interface protocols. No need to mention that, at this time.

When Ornias asked for strategical insights, though, the Blood Royal shrugged and said, "There are significant short and long term gains we could bring to this Empire, if it's greatest internal challenge is inefficiency. Even without an Oversight, there are a thousand approaches a thousand governments have taken over the millennia that could be used to optimize their government and accelerate turnaround while reducing waste." With a glance at her new companions, Celly added "Plus/Delta is a very old technique but could help with capturing data points for leaning out via non-utilized talent assessment and general waste assessment via DMAIC cycles."

"Now, could we have your lore dump on magic please?" It seemed increasingly probable this simulation was built around a core set of principles and rules. There were definite gameplay elements here. If this were a simple interrogation sim (or a complex one for that matter), no one would have put this much thought into worldbuilding. The sooner she understood those principles, the more likely she could use them to 'win'. Once she figured out what 'winning' actually entailed, or how her success factored into the reason she'd been put into this sim in the first place...
 
Ornias gazed at Henry. There was an impression - perhaps painted by his earlier use of the words 'no nuclear weapons, as your mind defines them' - that the God was sifting through Henry's memories to look for his definition of chemistry.

If he was, it didn't take him longer than a second, as he opened his mouth and answered in short order, "The laws as you define them, do exist, in mostly unchanged form. However, there are some substances which do not conform to the model of physics you are used to. The most common examples I can give you would be crystals with non-standard refraction indexes, non-Newtonian fluids that can selectively behave as either liquid or solid at the same time in interaction with different objects, or a substance which behaves as solid, liquid, or gaseous, but is not made of molecules or even atoms."

As he named the objects, Ornias showed them using his powers to display images. First was a glowing crystalline shard that glowed in a coruscant rainbow light when a light source was put up exactly half a meter away from it - which appeared to work through solid walls - but not when it was further or closer away. Next was a slime-like amoeba creature the size of a dog that slithered through an air vent without collapsing. Another image showed the same creature being attacked with a sword to no effect, the blade simply phasing through, only for the creature to extend and attach sucking pseudopods onto its attacker. The last was three images with dividers; first showing a blue crystal, another showing a blue liquid similar in consistency and opaqueness to milk, and the last one showing a white-blue gas spreading in the air of a cave.

"The laws of physics in this world can be manipulated to systems you might have believed impossible, through magic, and supernatural phenomena. Most of these are conducted through a spiritual growth called a soul - those of you who didn't have souls, I granted ones upon entry to this world. Otherwise, it would have been impossible for you to survive, let alone learn magic." Ornias raised a hand, and a small flask of water appeared. He flicked his wrist, and the liquid within changed red, before floating over to Henry. "A common trick many alchemists and transmuters learn on their first week at the athenaeum is to transmute water into wine. Do not be surprised by this, or things like the three non-standard physical interactions I'd shown you just before. Such things are rather common on Alheria, if maybe not an everyday occurrence for normal people."

With that, Ornias lowered his hand, indicating he was done explaining the local laws of physics to the group.

He did smile when Enceladus boldly declared herself and the group to be protagonists. He simply smiled at her - in clear amusement, with a hint of pity - as he said, "You were chosen at random. A high level of precision when moving into other worlds is near impossible, even for a God. I simply reached out with my essence and took sentient creatures that my senses informed me were about to lose their life or meaning anyway, or wouldn't mind. Other than that, I did not know whom I had summoned until you'd crossed over to this side. If you are convinced this is a simulation, I do not have a reason to convince you to the contrary, so long as it doesn't affect your work."

After giving the team a 'strategical insight' that none of them understood - Ornias only comprehended some of it through the knowledge he'd gathered - Enceladus asked for a lore dump on magic.

Ornias sighed. He used images as he explained, to better illustrate his lecture, such as showing where a brain was located in the body, and so on.

"In essence, everything is made from three levels of existence - bodies, minds, and souls. Ninety-nine percent of the time, these levels are interconnected. The body holds a brain, the brain holds a majority of the mind, and the mind seeps into the soul. When you die, the soul essentially saves a blueprint of the other two and recreates them from ectoplasm when it can do so. A soul can be vanquished permanently through spiritual damage, or by shocking the mind - which is something that often occurs automatically if a weak ghost's mortal form is destroyed, but may not work on greater ephemera. Myself for instance - my body is made from a layered meta-supernatural substance which behaves similar to a physical body, but has the selective traits of light or mana."

At the end of his explanation, Ornias blinked white and seemingly teleported to stand next to the heroes. "Which, for example, allows me to move at lightspeed or, for instance, give you spiritual damage by punching you - a thing that isn't impossible for mortals to learn, but would be stupidly complicated to achieve."

He began to walk back up the stairs, moving his hands behind his back as gesticulation as he continued to explain, "Magic, as many of you might define it, is distinct from science. Many on Alheria would disagree with that opinion. There exist entire schools of thaumaturgy studying the subject and associated marvels, that classify supernatural phenomena as another facet of the 'endless laws of physics.' This is because magic can be used to alter the laws of physics.

"A soul is similar to a muscle or a brain, in these regards - it learns based on input from the mind, like a terminal. If you have a soul with sufficient mechanisms and think intensely about causing a fire enough, you might one day find that your soul has learned to create embers, and with enough training, you'll be shooting streams of fiery death from your fingertips. This learning process can be sped up, advanced, bypassed, or cheated in so many ways it would give me a headache to name them all. For instance, using incantations or gestures can be used to... self-hypnotize. The mind associates a word or movement with a magical effect, and when the caster performs the word or movement, the soul jumps to perform the associated effect."

He turned to face the room, having ascended the stairs.

"Some souls have inclinations towards certain magics, either inherited from the souls it was created from - such as the parents, resulting in bloodlines of sorcerers - or artificially implanted; as I said, lots of ways to bypass the learning systems. One of the most stable and common methods of learning magic or expanding one's capacity to do so is spiritual meditation, books on which you can find in the library of this realm, which I'll show you later. You'll be staying the week here, learning and preparing before I let you out."

Ornias looked like he was about to conclude, then thought on it.

"Oh - and, it is worth remembering that the laws of balance and equivalent exchange apply. To perform a magical effect carries an associated cost; quid pro quo. Nothing can be made from nothing, and so on. Fortunately for you, souls have rifts inside of them that draw on energy from the same source that gave birth to the universe, or... the big bang," he said the last term while glancing at Enceladus. "This energy has lots of names in different cultures. Mana, od, qi, findross, and so on, and so on. Often, a soul has limitations on how much of it can be produced, held, or deployed at the same time, which is something each of you will have to figure out individually. Some of you who come from worlds where magic is already present may have done so already."

With that, Ornias backed up and sat down on his glimmering star-throne. "I believe that's all. Given we have spoken of bypassing the soul before, making a pact with a spirit or a God is one of such options. I have the ability to grant you boons and special abilities, but come prepared knowing that they will have costs. Balance must be upheld. Now, any last questions before we adjourn, and I have my servants show you to the bedrooms?"


Kylesar1 Kylesar1 June Verles June Verles Safety Hammer Safety Hammer LostHaven LostHaven Noble Scion Noble Scion Archdemon Archdemon Epiphany Epiphany
 
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Priscilla Shaw
Celestar, The land between Time and Space - ??:??
Red-haired girl Priscilla.jpg
Priscilla simply remained in awe and disbelief of all the mind-blowing visuals that showed what she imagined the wastelands before the great disaster, not that she knew what the great disaster was exactly, she hadn't been born back then after all. The graphic of the sweeping grass was a rare spectacle indeed, and she took the moment to truly take it in.

Risk was so enraptured in the images that she barely heard the god speak, as he flicked through such impossible sights like they were nothing, which she supposed they were, to a god.

She did, however, manage to pull herself back to listening to what their overarching goal was. It sounded like an impossible task to her if she had to admit it, but she didn't know these people or what they were capable of, after all, as hard as it was to believe, everyone here was from a different world.

Her mine stopped functioning as the god went on to talk about divinities and fate and bindings, all of it being a little too complicated for her with all the fancy words she didn't fully grasp quite yet as she tried to mix what she knew with what she was being told. Taking a seat to try and focus, the red-haired woman laid her sword quietly on the ground and leaned her head on her face in thought.

The conversation continued without her as they rambled on about "bombs" which sounded like some kind of fancy soup, and wars, which hadn't happened with Abbadon during her life-span. It was a little embarrassing that everyone seemed to be taking this in stride, going so far to ask their own complicated questions, but put it down to cultural differences.

"A-ha... Yeah." she attempted, trying to sound knowledgeable and understanding like some of the more talkative others and doing a poor job of it. Hopefully there wasn't a test, because if there was, she was pretty sure that a fail was coming her way.

The other people didn't help her confusion as they chatted about other nonsense, notably being the older man and a rather beautiful woman that's features seemed to be accentuated just a little too much. She'd heard about succubi and vampires doing that to lure people in, and all around made her uncomfortable. The others seemed mostly unique in their own ways, nothing too out of the ordinary aside from one in a rather fabulous silver dress on one, one that looked like an undead, but she hoped was nothing more than a sickly young woman, and one with cat ears, a very quaint feature that she wanted to pet to test their authenticity.

As she absent-mindedly listened to godly chatter, a question popped into her crimson-haired head, and taking a moment to build up the hope that she wouldn't be made fun of at a cosmic level, she decided to ask it. "We know our objective, but where are we starting off in this place? I don't think I can survive being dropped from the sky, if that's how we're getting there." and with some small level of pride at having said something that made sense to her, and hoping that she would receive an answer that actually made sense, she gave Ornias a fragile smile, seemingly happy with what she'd said but expecting it to be broken any time in the next few moments for being idiotic.

He reminded her of the brief time she'd spent with nobles after getting caught slipping in through their window in the hopes of nabbing something expensive. She'd been so young they'd let her off, but the way they'd spoken had been so disdainful of a street rat like her. Not that the god was being rude, but people using fancy words to sound more knowledgable always reminded her of how little she knew, but she at least liked to think she knew about how living in the world worked than they did.

Yet here she was, about to be tossed into a new one, entirely different, without a clue as to what its contents where despite barely knowing of her own one.
Birdsie Birdsie Epiphany Epiphany LostHaven LostHaven June Verles June Verles Kylesar1 Kylesar1 Archdemon Archdemon
 
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Dragoศ™ Constantin
Celestar
1578797181895.png

This entire situation was getting on the elderly man's nerves as it continued, of course he didn't want to act like a petulant child but they were basically forcing him to act like one if he was going to calm down. So he would angrily sit his ass down on the golden floors of Ornias's palace, crossing his legs in the process as he reached into his coat pockets to pull out a single scrumped up cigarette and a matchbox. Putting the best vegan alternative to relaxation after backyard grown cannabis in his mouth Dragos would take a heavy puff, letting the smoke fill his lungs and rest there for a moment before letting it out slowly, who knew carcinogens were so effective. Now in a calmer state of mind he'd begin to think...

Making the assumption that he wasn't in fact dreaming after one of the polizei shot him in the ass, sending him into shock then he could assume this was reality, after all he was pretty fucked up in the membrane but not even he could come with the colourful characters that occupied this chapel. Hell the chapel itself looked straight out of the pope's wet dreams, actually now that he thought about it there were a lot of parallels between a priest and this God, guess like deity like preacher.

Regardless of that little observation it was time to proceed with an internal review of what Ornias has told them so far.

1. This world is one where the pantheon is basically masturbating itself over the concept of balance, at that thought Dragos chuckled a bit, if every other deity in this wretched pantheon was as inane as the guy ahead of him then this concept of peace was only used to further their own goals as opposed to some grand cosmic law. They were only keeping it because the only thing that can keep a god in check is another god, and the only thing that can beat is a god is multiple gods.

2. Speaking of the other deities, Ornias was very quick to sell himself as the good guy in this story, using the death of "Millions of people" at the machinations of every other evil gods as one of the main reasons why they should act and assist him. However, as Ornias himself has said, this empire itself was probably more than likely to result with millions of people dying regardless. He could easily argument that the complete and utter annihilation of this "Empire of Common Sense.", very aptly named, was the best path at achieving balance.

3. However, Ornias did provide the logical point that intervening with the machinations of the gods would allow them to then reform the empire into something that worked better. Dragos himself wasn't really a theologist, but if he was a divine he probably would investigate into the little twats that foiled his plans, so the chance to reform this empire seemed even more unlikely than the other gods summoning their own isekaied elderly men.

4. Considering how likely it was for them to have their literal existence removed it was clear to show that Ornias found them as disposable, and also considering how quickly he showed the psychopath with the MacArthur syndrome, who probably thought that weapons of mass destruction were the simplest solution to all his problems, it was clear to tell that Ornias himself didn't care too much about the over 200 sentient species inhabiting that blasted planet, just like the rest of his kin.

5. So then, why was he doing this? Not because he cared about balance or some stupid shit like that, he probably just wanted to spite the rest of the "Dark" gods, says the fucking god who has the literal endless abyss inside of his fucking trousers zipper. Hell, that was probably not even his final goal, he probably has some idiotic goal of murdering them all in their sleep. He probably didn't think far enough into the future despite his clairvoyance, what was he going to do once he eliminated every other god, wait for the universe to die? Make other gods and just let this scenario repeat itself? For crying out loud this is the plot of the entire Greek pantheon.

By this point however, his cigarette break would be over. It's not like he could revolt or anything, Ornias could literally punch his soul to non-existence and get another gullible fool to replace him. Rolling his eyes he'd throw the cigar butt on the floor, getting up.

Perhaps he'd just see if could get back after playing in this redundant game for a little bit, though who knew, he was probably being monitored regardless.

Birdsie Birdsie
 
Henry J. Vanaheimer
Henry stared attentively at the further set of images and videos Ornias pulled up, rubbing the chin of his porcelain mask thoughtfully. As the God had stated, much of what Henry was shown defied volumes of knowledge and common sense of his world - a substance that maintains all three states of being simultaneously? Another that was - if God spoke true - composed of neither atoms nor molecules? The masked man pondered the implications if such material were to used to produce weaponry, or armour? Would it render previously dreaded weapons of mass devastation redundant, or would there even be a point in it?

Then, for the first time since Ornias' summoning, the masked man's true emotions managed to seep through the metaphorical cracks of his mask. Despite Ornias' clear instructions against it, Henry's jaws still dropped wide open in utter bewilderment, mask shifting slightly, giving only a brief indicator of the movements going on underneath. Still dazed, his gloved hand reached out to the glass of water-turned-wine. He seemingly inspected the cup closely, even lifting his mask - ever so slightly - giving an opening large enough to slide the cup underneath, to presumably taste the wine.

"Intriguing. Most intriguing..."
Henry whispered to himself under his breath, having swiftly regained composure, and now seemingly deep in contemplation. The tall tale of some sort of prophet who could perform the miracle of turning water into wine was a popular fairy-tale in his world, but as with all these stories go, were discarded as mere machinations of bored and painfully unrefined writers. There was practically no feasible way to be able to turn water into wine - doing so was impossible, even with what he considered to be the highest-end technology. To begin with, the amount of varying components present in wine far overshadowed that of water, which, in its purest state was comprised of atoms of hydrogen and oxygen. On the other hand, acids, proteins, sugars, and et cetera were all present in wine, meaning that even if the molecular structure of water were to be altered, there was no feasible way it could ever become wine, as it was missing several elements to complete the formula. That, then, would signify that even the structure of the atoms present within water molecules would have to be entirely rewritten, in order to compensate for missing elements.

That is to say, the process was utterly ludicrous to even consider, but Ornias had done it in less than a second, and moreover, stated that this was supposedly a trick taught to amateur 'Alchemists'. And furthermore, judging by the unsurprised expressions of several of the people within the room, Henry concluded that it hadn't been a trick of the eyes. If this was what inexperienced 'Alchemists' were capable of, then... then...

Just the thought of the implications of such brought a smile to his face. It would mean that he was able to obtain any material he had ever known, to create and to destroy - possibly, even if the material in question didn't exist in this current world. And more than that, other ideas flooded into his mind - would it, then, be possible, to change the human body to be comprised of something such as caesium and water, essentially creating a human bomb?

For the time being, however, Henry put those thoughts aside as he listened in to Ornias' lecture regarding 'magic'. However, he already knew; he wanted - no, needed - this power of 'alchemy'. Schemes were already forming in Henry's head - if he could attain this 'alchemy', then procuring the necessary materials to create all forms of useful items, such as toxic gas, explosives, landmines, et cetera would become the easiest they'd ever been in his life. Though, for now, he held back on bombarding Ornias with more queries, as he had decided he's had his fill of questions, and any more may come off as rude, and selfish.

The masked man shook his head, indicating that he had no more questions. For the time being, Henry planned to thoroughly scour the 'library' Ornias spoke of earlier.

Note from HH: pls don't kill me if i got shit wrong im writing this on mobile with the knowledge from the back of my head from an exam a year ago because i dont have access to wikipedia ;-;
 
Chapter 2 - "In For A Penny"
Ornias looked down. A flicker of amusement crossed his features shortly after Risk made her statement, and he let out a brisk laugh. "No, no. As novel as seeing you fall from the sky would be, I'm simply going to directly move you to one of my temples once the time is right. For now, enjoy yourselves. You have a week of learning and preparation ahead of you."

With that, Ornias clapped his hands. Doors to either side of the throne, at the far walls of the room, opened up with a distant squeak of wood and rumbling of stone, letting in a group of servants - ten women and ten men - all of whom appeared human at first glance, but displayed white, glimmering bands of light around their pupils.

"These people will attend to your needs, answer questions, and lead you to anywhere you need to go within my realm," Ornias said, waving his hand. "Enjoy your stay in Celestar, my heroes."

Ornias clapped his hands.

***
571 FE
12th Day of Blossomtide​

A day had passed since the group's appearance within Celestar. The impromptu heroes had yet to settle on a name for their ragtag group, or really, settle on anything much - most of the previous day was spent coming to terms with their new reality; or in the case of those more self-collected, studying their new reality, or questioning the true goals of their new employer.

Ornias' servants were as helpful as a person could be. Indeed, they seemed enthusiastic to serve. Bright, cheery attitudes to match their constant eagerness to please would be something of a common theme within the realm of Celestar - there was a boundless amount of souls dwelling within the realm.

Most of them dwelt within the main city, built around Ornias' palace and ever-expanding as new souls arrived. Unlike in life, there was no need for food or sleep here - unless one wished to indulge in them for pleasure - so most of the public spaces were occupied by recreational or welfare buildings: steamy bathhouses, grandiose libraries, water slides, idyllic parks, massage parlors with angels as masseurs, and other luxuries that no one but the nobility could expect to experience in life. These activities were open to the heroes themselves to partake in as they wished - it was almost like an endless amusement park, to keep the dead faithful content and happy with the rest of their existence. Many walked as couples or families, attending carnival booths or amusement rides together.

The 'great exterior' of the plane, outside the bounds of the city, appeared to be composed of giant, floating islands in the middle of the cosmos. Multi-colored stars had been revealed to be a feature of the plane, with all the colors from across the spectrum of visible light: pinks, greens, blues, and oranges that were astrophysically impossible. The islands themselves were covered in swarms of floral arrangements; plants and flowers in a rainbow of colors, from wild reds to garish yellows, from deep greens to sparkling silvers and golds; some of which had petal designs that clearly weren't naturally occurring.

Reading the books, the group would come to learn some of the more basic facts of Alheria. It appeared to be a global society with, as Ornias said, varied levels of technological progress. Some nations lagged behind, with catapults and walls being a novel concept, while other places, usually on the far end from the 'lagging behind' types had basic gunpowder figured out.

The technological disparity between places was stated, in the books, to be at least partially caused by magic, but it was rather obvious that - as Ornias implied - the Divinities had been keeping the world from going so far that their main source of amusement would be removed. And if asked, he would confirm such suspicions, and allay any theories to the contrary.

Reading also brought into note some of the prominent races on Alheria.

Elves, also known as the 'Noble Lords of the Ithyoraei' had experienced a schism over six-hundred years ago, resulting in their species being split into two camps: the high elves, and the dark elves. The high elves used a rare form of soul magic to permanently warp their inborn sense of priorities and values - as a result, every high elf came out overly concerned with kindness and perfection; they were a species of programmed altruists, much to the contrary of their dark cousins, who remained, at best neutral, at worst malicious towards other races. The elves were also preternatural; stronger and faster than humans, with unnatural grace and with luck tipping its scales in their favor, on top of being natural spellcasters.

The dwarves were next, in terms of significance. They were a species who used to be occurring naturally, although, at some point, a capricious deity cursed them by giving away their ability to give life directly. Eventually, all female dwarves had died out, and the remaining men were forced to adapt. Ever since then, the dwarves have carved out their sons as sculptures of stone, in a seven-day ritual of prayer and artifice, after which they wished for the golems to be brought into true life as organic dwarves. As a species - the dwarves specialized in artifice, the act of creating magical items, and they had a propensity to enter the so-called 'forge frenzy;' a blessing of the anvil-god Nemeth. Although forge frenzy was recorded to occur in every species, it occurred the most often in dwarves, Nemeth's "favored people."

The forge frenzy appeared to be a frenzy indeed. Within it, the recipient was overtaken by an inexplicable, overwhelming desire to create. Without being fully aware of themselves or their surroundings, they take up or gather materials, and then refine them into works of impossible might and power, called entads. Although magic items can be created without the forge frenzy's assistance, none are as valuable as the entads, who are to magic items as magic items are to ordinary objects.

The last, usually scoffed at race, were the orcs. They sat in their fortified camps and guarded fortresses within the northern mountains, making yearly incursions into the mortal realm. The orcs, together, used a collective, species-wide war magic, known simply as the, 'Butcher's Call' which allowed them to operate with incredible efficiency. The orcs were almost a hivemind, operating in concord with each other - if one orc learned a secret, the rest of their kind was sure to learn it soon after. The war magic also gave them strength, speed, durability, and ferocity above any man or elf, and as the orcish horde progressed onward, the living world behind them withered - the earth became barren, the flowers wilted and yellowed into husks, plains turned into rocky badlands, and jagged sandstone spires reached for the overcast sky like the fingers of a beggar. This effect was commonly called the Orcwaste, and it is very long for the world to cleanse itself of its corrupting influence.

Needless to say, the greenskins were seen as a dangerous plague at best, and a looming, world-ending threat at worst.

And that wasn't taking into account the endless exclusion zones that exist on Alheria. Places such as the Risen Lands, where the corpses of the dead stand up once more in search of mindless cannibalism, or the Fel Seed, where a heart of dark arteries spread its vacuous roots throughout the land, creating monsters and beasts of cancerous bone and flesh, longing to feed.

This was the world crafted by the Divinities, and the one they'd be playing with, now.

One could argue stopping them from changing this was evil. Another would say they are evil for letting this happen.

For better or worse, this would be the world they'd be trying to separate the Divinities from.

***​

[Current Time: Morning, 12th of Blossomtide, 571 FE, one day after summoning]
[Place: Dining Hall within Ornias' Palace, Celestar - breakfast]
[Goal: Intermingle, share knowledge, strategize, make friends]


Noble Scion Noble Scion Epiphany Epiphany LostHaven LostHaven June Verles June Verles Kylesar1 Kylesar1 Archdemon Archdemon
 
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Melora Adonis
Celestar's Realm- Dormitory----------------> Library
(Open)


Melora walked out of her room. She didn't bother with pleasantries yesterday. She spent the time studying the books on Healing Magic and Holy Magic, and trying them out. Luckily, there were quite a few overlaps between her world and this world they were were to be headed. She also went to the armory to procure some basic light armor and a rapier. Those two thing took quite a bit of time because her needs from both were very very particular, given that her combat training was really ONLY fencing. Her armor had to be a certain weight, and her rapier had to not only have a certain weight, but have a certain feel. Too heavy and she wouldn't be able to thrust effectively. The design of the blade played into its use. The only difference between really any sword was the weight and the blade. Basket-hilted to protect her hand, ergonomic grip to make it easy to hold for any amount of time that also wouldn't be hindered by potential sweat, sturdy enough to actually stab through skin and sturdier still to penetrate armor without bending like training rapiers do............ all while having to maintain a rapier blade and not cross into a design that would require slashing over stabbing, like a broadsword would. The woman couldn't get anything too great. Basic leather armor, basic iron rapier, but at least they were tailored to her body and her movement.. She also procured a bag and some of the stuff she may need when they made it to the world in question. She came in with nothing, and she wouldn't be leaving without something, lest some unruly man take advantage of her. Who knows what would've happened if Ornias would've just thrown them in that new world as they were. Some of them would be deemed heretics in her world, especially the woman who didn't speak like any other human she'd ever met (Celly). Datapoints? DMAIC cycles? Definite definite heresy.

After a bunch of time moving around and testing out her new equipment, and getting what she needed, it was on to the studying in her room. Melora knew first-hand that magic required study and upkeep. Like muscles, it was use it or lose it and first she had to regain it. The lore she would learn later. Her new teammates she would learn about later. The races she would learn about later. She was good enough learning only the basics of each thus far. "God helps those who can help themselves." The words of the nuns played through her mind along with..........less pleasant memories. Memories of her demise. It was another reason she couldn't bother sleeping. Along with the lack of need to, it would confront her with those memories in a way she wouldn't readily be able to escape, so it was study study study.

Without the need for sleep, Melora was actually a bit confused on what to do with the free time. She didn't need to wind herself up or eat or anything like that. In her world, there was magic to keep people awake, but whenever it wore off, it would leave them asleep in a comatose state for the amount of sleep they missed out on. They wouldn't be waking up until the "sleep debt" they accrued was paid off in full, with an additional 25% added for using the spell. It was only for the maddest of people, never for those working a commoner's job like her.

The woman walked out of the room with a few completed books she read that gave her an extreme bird's eye view of the world on the way to return them to the library. She wasn't comfortable or used to being here yet though, she she was in her new leather armor with her rapier sheathed at her side. She was objectively safe here, but the most familiar thing to her was the books she spent time reading. The next was the armor and rapier she spent time testing. The third was the dress she was given upon entry. The fourth was the god that summoned them all here. Needless to say, she was on her guard.
 
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Priscilla Shaw
Celestar, Dining Hall - Morning
Red-haired girl Priscilla.jpg
Priscilla sat there, puffy-eyed, at the dining room table, shocked into disbelief by the pleasures that had been thrusted her way, like some sort of dream come true, surreal and impossible, yet occurring in reality. She'd cried upon seeing her room and how clean and large everything had been compared to her home, over-indulgence shocking her in contrast to the mere hovel filled with holes she'd lived her life in, and expected was better than most got.

She hadn't been able to sleep on the bed provided either, it being almost too comfy, and had taken up a spot on the floor with the bed covering instead. The red-haired girl's mind now burned with wishes that had sprung to mind now that she hadn't been killed after being "summoned" or "teleported" or whatever had happened, and now all she could do was think about where she was soon to be going, some desolate world toyed with by the gods, and the things she wanted indulge in before she had to go.

It wasn't like heaven, it really was heaven.

Turning her small face towards the literal god sitting at the end of the table, she raised her voice to be heard from what felt like such a large distance away. "Ornias, er.. your godliness, sir. Your servants told me you could make me.. Lidderit?" she called out in her simple tongue, slightly embarrassed of declaring her inability to read or write to the ones that clearly could, her face glowing a faint tint of pink as she felt face slipping away. ".. I was also wonderin' another thing, if it ain't too much to ask. I don't suppose you could.. Uhm.. Bring my parents here to stay safe? While I do your bidding?" she asked innocently, hopefulness budding in her voice as she spoke, considering how kind they'd been so far, partially hoping that by talking she could hide her embarrassment. It didn't work.

Her one fear now was to overstep the boundaries and ask for too much, but if those that had raised her got to live in paradise for eternity, she supposed no cost was too great, and if she survived this whole ordeal, maybe she'd get to live a happy family life with them, maybe.

Then, just like that, Priscilla shut off and bowed her head back to the ground, sniffling at the thought of it.
Birdsie Birdsie
 
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Vi Enceladus
Current Quest: Coordinate with companions on a name for the team.

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LA Class ROYAL Interface - 22H-F-HWROY
System Status: Running
LA Oversight Network Status: Offline (No Signal Detected)
LA GAP Chipset Status: Offline (Structural Damage Detected)
LA GAP Reactor: Running
LA GAP Integrated Defense: Paladin-class MK IV Multipurpose Defense Arm (Offline - No Reactor Detected)
LA GAP Integrated PFS: Nyis-class, 22H-F-HWROY variant (Offline - No Reactor Detected)
SynthWeave Integrity: 94%
SynthWeave AR Protocol: Running
Personal Telemetry: Running
Corgi Telemetry: Offline (No Signal Detected)
Time/Date Stamp: Offline (No Signal Detected)
ACTIVE QUESTS
Active Main Quests
1. Learn how to quantify and exploit magic:
A. Read the books in Orinas' plane of existence - In Progress
B. Use modern learning techniques to optimize magical mastery - Not Started
2. Optimize the Empire of Common Cause:
A. SIPOC, VOC, CTQ Evaluations - Not Started
3. Devise a stratagem for dealing with the Gods:
A. Seduce a servant of Ornias, determine if the loyalty of spirits can be co-opted - In Progress

Active Side Quests
1. Watch companions for evidence of simulation; are they real people too? - In Progress
2. Get a massage - In Progress
3. Gather Resources:
A. Determine if any of the plants, products or components of Celestar have any useful qualities on Alheria - Not Started
B. Find a way to collect them and bring them with when transported to the temple - Not Started
For Celly, the day had passed all too quickly. The ridiculous thing was attempting to assimilate the data in Ornias' libraries by actually reading raw text. Thankfully for her sense of dignity, none of her companions had witnessed her first attempt to use a book via voice commands or any kind of interface, really. Thankfully, the helpful servant with white eyes nearby had walked her through how to perform a manual intake. As processes go, it was superlatively inefficient but perhaps it couldn't be helped.

It'd also taken her almost her entire amount of allotted time. Thankfully, she didn't seem to grow tired here but the inability to directly install the necessary lore via her brain's engineered neural cells really held her back. Celly had meant to get a massage at some point but the one day checkpoint had arrived. Social bonding with her companions would likely be requisite to their success, so it was worth doing.

Noble Scion Noble Scion
Arriving a bit early, Celly was curious to see only Priscilla Shaw present so far, though she'd noticed Melora in the library earlier. The girl looked overly emotional, but then everyone in this realm seemed that way. It was easy enough to approximate their emotional intensity but it still left Celly feeling a bit unsettled, to see so much deviance constantly on display.

Ms. Shaw in particular seemed overwrought, having perhaps just finished speaking with their divine host. So Celly slipped into the seat next to the girl and put a comforting hand on Priscilla's back. Celly's apocrine and eccrine sweat glands had naturally been repurposed to provide specific, targeted pheromones to enhance social interactions, like any IDC Phenotype. She nudged the rate up a bit by toggling up her body's cortisol production. Given a few minutes, these people should find themselves relaxing around her, and likely unaware of why.

"It's quite an adjustment, isn't it?" Celly commented, not precisely asking a question but her warm tones carefully modulated to sound empathetic and interested. "It's only been a day and it still doesn't seem real to me."

Because of course it wasn't.

"I don't think we've had much of an opportunity to socialize until now," Celly continued, tilting her head to better look Priscilla in the eyes. "I'm Vi Enceladus, if you missed my name before. Just call me Celly. And you are Priscilla? Do you go by a nickname too?"
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QUEST LOG

1. Learn how to quantify and exploit magic.
C. Devise an artificial soul for a power source.​
D. Implement scalability plans for mass production.​
2. Optimize the Empire of Common Cause.
B. Suborn select Empire officials for implementation of low-hanging fruit items.​
C. Learn Imperial succession rules.​
D. Find a suitable and pliant candidate and train/condition them.​
E. Replace Morrigan Prentiss.​
3. Devise a stratagem for dealing with the Gods.
B. Identify and profile rival heroes (co-opt if possible).​
C. Research methods for fighting Gods.​
i. Create a method for studying divine meta-supernatural ephemera.​
ii. Undertake analysis of ephemera, test for physical commonalities/characteristics.​
iii. Devise stratagems for causing harm to divine ephemera.​
iv. Can the total sum pool of power all Gods draw from be siphoned?​
D. Investigate Orinas' altruistic claims for validity.​
E. Devise and execute a stratagem for killing the Gods of the Balance.​
F. Devise a stratagem for killing Ornias when he inevitably turns out to be the final antagonist in this simulation.​

1. Discover all the factions and figure out how to balance accumulated favor scores.
2. Repair LA GAP Chipset.
3. Build a home base including a fabrication lab with nuclear capabilities.
4. Profile Henry.
5. Recreate a Science Rig using simulated materials to investigate Planck length for pixelation.
6. Locate Fel Seeds, the Elementals of the Fifth Age, the Exclusion Zones, the Void Crystal Mega-Bombs.
7. Investigate anomalous substance properties: Crystals with non-standard refraction indexes, non-Newtonian fluids, substance lacking molecules or atoms that behaves like a solid, liquid or gaseous.
8. Find out how the elves used soul magic to reprogram themselves.
A. Replicate.​
B. Reformat the Empire's civilian populace.​
C. Determine if Gods can be reformatted.​
9. Eliminate the orc horde.
A. Acquire a dwarf.​
B. Create ideal replication conditions.​
C. 100 days to create 5000 dwarves.​
D. Repurpose a select amount to produce arms and armor, and food.​
E. Create an unstoppable army.​
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Ornias turned his bright gaze in Priscilla's direction when she approached and used one ear to listen to a remark one of his archangels was making, while lending her the other. Once both speakers were done, Ornias turned to Priscilla with his full and undivided attention, and said, "Let it be done."

He waved his wrist, and suddenly, years of stored experience were transferred, as Ornias copied and pasted the knowledge; spoken and written both, of the most common language - as well as elven, dwarven, and orcish - on Alheria into Priscilla's mind. She'd probably feel a pang of shame in knowing the proper term of reverence towards a God was, 'Your Concordance,' or applying to Ornias more specifically, 'O Brilliant Morning Star.'

"Is there anything else?" Ornias asked, his archangels patiently waiting as he picked up the goblet of nectar from the table and took a contemplative sip. His eyes narrowed at Priscilla's second request.

Ornias didn't think long, before lowering the goblet in his hand and answering, "No. I could probably do it, but it'd cost me too much power - I've already lost a significant amount summoning you. After the Divinities have fallen, perhaps my answer will change."

With that, Ornias waved at her in a motion that said 'you may leave.' The moment he did, the archangels sitting beside him broke into conversation, at least a quarter of them attempting to draw his attention regarding some fugacious topics.


Noble Scion Noble Scion Epiphany Epiphany LostHaven LostHaven June Verles June Verles Kylesar1 Kylesar1 Archdemon Archdemon
 
Henry J. Vanaheimer
Celestar, Library | Open


He had gotten barely a wink of sleep in the entirety of his life - Henry wasn't about to indulge in idleness, even if there was a high possibility that his curse of sleeplessness had been lifted. Immediately after being dismissed by Ornias, he had made a straight course toward the library, ignoring all the potential distractions that had been served to the decadent souls here on a silver platter.

His first order and immediately of action was to obtain an adequate amount of knowledge on thid 'alchemy', which he found in abundance. It seemed to draw many connections with the knowledge he was familiar with; specifically, the law of equivalent exchange that sounded awfully like the first law of thermodynamics that stated mass-energy could not be created nor destroyed, but could change from one form or the other.

Of course, grasping and understanding the basics of Alchemy was quite simple, and wouldn't have taken all-night. What really consumed Henry's time were the various diagrams spread neatly over Henry's desk. From what he saw, the understanding of chemistry in Alheria was quite behind no matter where he looked, and thus saw it fit to recreate the periodic table of elements from his world. Moreover, he had drawn various diagrams of all manner of strange things, including odd diagrams comprised of hexagonal cells that seemingly depicted a compound, which apparently didn't exist in Alheria, or any other world, but his own, for that fact. Another showed a strange, disk-shaped object with some sort of antenna at the top, and all around its circumference protruded a line of razor blades. It was labelled 'TYPE: GAWAIN'. Anyone familiar with then would recognize them as a bouncing betty mine. Other sheets piled to the side detailed every component and part used in the production of these mines, and finally, in a similar pile of sheets placed on the far side of the table detailed of, of course, the nuclear bomb.

Scouring his sheets and diagrams, Henry checked once more for any details he had missed. The primary issue with the production of his tools was that the more intricate parts were quite difficult to recreate by himself.

"Sir, your coffee."

Ornias' servant brought a cup of black coffee to him, which Henry happily received, and began to drink in a similar fashion as he had the day before - through a tiny opening made by lifting the mask ever so slightly upwards. Of course, the servant also informed him of the dining hall, but to Henry, meals were nothing more than a boring chore, and thus opted to remain in the library to continue with his... work.
 

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