Lordxana0
Member
A king's ascension ceremony was normally a time of great joy for the people of Excelia, with feasts and celebrations lasting a full month in order to wish the new reigning monarch the best and start out their rule on a positive note. The former prince Vicktor had always dreamed about his own ceremony, coming up with all sorts of ideas to put smiles on the faces of the people of his kingdom, a party for the history books. That had been his dream since he had experienced his fathers own ceremony when he had passed the throne from his aging grandfather.
His dream died along with his father and the greatest knights the kingdoms had to offer about ten hours ago.
Excelia was one of the rare kingdoms within Astralsis that had managed to stand firm against the demonic corruption of the Lord of Infernal and his forces, their towering walls humming with magics long ago forgotten by even the most experienced of spellcaster, an ultimate shield against the nightmares that circled the kingdoms like carrion birds waiting for a feast. But their fortune had been changed by the arrival of one of the Lord's generals, the Lich Lecroch and his horizon spanning army of the dead. They pounded the walls day and night, throwing themselves in an endlessly regenerating tide against the cities enchantments and slowly but certainly draining the magic that kept the people behind them safe from the onslaught. His father had gathered the greatest warriors and mages and charged out in an attempt to break the siege, but had been cut down and added to the ranks of the undead, another corpse clawing at the walls left behind by their ancestors.
There had been no time to mourn his father, a king who had always kept his people in his heart and the idea of a kingdom built on ideals rather then power, a father who had loved his son and wife with his entire heart, and a warrior who faced even certain death with grim determination. If the young prince thought on his father for too long he would break, and his people could ill afford a crying child at their helm.
"Is it ready?" Vicktor tried to project his voice without it cracking, a difficult task for a boy only thirteen years of age. His mages assured him the circle was complete and the spellwork was ready.
The once majestic throne room had been tossed in order to create a massive summoning circle on its stone floors, and within the circle sat the history of his family line in a number of artifacts and treasures, each one being able to be traced back to the man or woman who had claimed them. But baubles had no use for the dead, and even as young as he was Vicktor knew that any sentimentality would hold back. Seeing that all was set up he stepped from the throne, using a padded stepping stool to make up the difference in height as he prepared himself.
"I am Pri...King Victor," he winced at mistake but forced himself to soldier forward. "I stand before this circle and sacrifice the history of my kingdom and its treasures to cast this spell, the unforgivable Rite of Summoning," the circle glowed, causing all the treasure within to melt, spreading out and tracing the lines that had been drawn onto the floor. "My people, my kingdom, my world all stand on the brink, so I call forth heroes to turn the tide, those who can break the hold that evil has on this world," he reached to his neck, removing a pendant from it, the last gift from his mother before one of the Lord's many plagues took her. He gripped it tight before tossing it into the circle, watching as it took was eaten. "Please," tears burned in his eyes even as he forced himself to stay on his feet. "please help."
The spell flared out for a moment before everything just...stopped. Normally the Rite of Summoning was a spell performed by deific beings, finding those worthy of whatever gift they would bestow and calling them forth to an unfamiliar land. However the spell worked a bit differently when used by a human, as there was no divine will to act as an intelligence the human version of the spell created in that moment an artificial being to act as the intelligence. This being had only come into existence less then a second ago, and already it felt like taking a break given the task before it.
The world of Astralsis wasn't just bad off, it was hanging by a thread. Most divine beings had already vacated the world for greener pastures in other realities, and those who hadn't found themselves either chained by dark magic or erased from the world. The weakest monsters were strong enough to bring reasonably skilled warriors to heel, and the strongest beings of darkness could erase entire armies with the same idle devastation a child might bring upon an anthill on a bored afternoon.
please help
With a deep sigh the spell's intelligence began its work, shifting through the vast infinity of reality and trying to find beings that could suit the task in front of them. Despite its near omnipotent abilities the program itself had no divine blessing or gift for those it summoned, so the usual approach of flipping through the recently departed souls of the nearest realities Japan were rendered pointless, requiring a deeper dive. The options were fairly open for power, but there were issues.
Superheroes were a mixed bag, and had too long of a history of corruption or emotional angst to be able to survive the weight of devastation. Armored Heroes were equally out for the same level of emotional instability. Sentai Teams were considered, but trying to pull multiple individuals from the same realm would lead to disaster and only invite prying eyes.
Finally it came across a concept that might work, Magical Girls. Not a concept tied wholly to gender but an idea of a hero of justice who could always make a 'happy ending' occur despite all odds stacking against them. Even those mired in darkness would be effective, and with the programs existence held together by only a single sacrifice it didn't have time to be picky, grabbing the seven closest beings that resembled 'Magical Girls' and dropping them into the world. While it had no real power to give them it dropped a basic translation spell across each of them, ensuring at the very least they would be able to talk.
With that its duty was finished, and the program entered into hibernation, only to rise again to return the heroes to their worlds. If they didn't die at least. But just like the prince the program was willing to make a gamble.
And with this done the world moved once more, with seven figures of immense power dropped in a kingdom under siege, a young king trying to remain regal toward these strange people he had ripped away from their worlds. "Greetings heroes from other worlds," he winced as his voice cracked, trying to hide the discomfort in order to make the best impression. "I am sorry you've been pulled from your lives, there is no excuse I can give, except that without help my people...my world...we...I mean..." it was easy to see how upset he was, trying to focus on words that escaped him. "We desperately need your aid, please help us." he had no offers to give, no right to ask this. Nothing but a childish plea for someone to stand against the darkness and force it back.
His dream died along with his father and the greatest knights the kingdoms had to offer about ten hours ago.
Excelia was one of the rare kingdoms within Astralsis that had managed to stand firm against the demonic corruption of the Lord of Infernal and his forces, their towering walls humming with magics long ago forgotten by even the most experienced of spellcaster, an ultimate shield against the nightmares that circled the kingdoms like carrion birds waiting for a feast. But their fortune had been changed by the arrival of one of the Lord's generals, the Lich Lecroch and his horizon spanning army of the dead. They pounded the walls day and night, throwing themselves in an endlessly regenerating tide against the cities enchantments and slowly but certainly draining the magic that kept the people behind them safe from the onslaught. His father had gathered the greatest warriors and mages and charged out in an attempt to break the siege, but had been cut down and added to the ranks of the undead, another corpse clawing at the walls left behind by their ancestors.
There had been no time to mourn his father, a king who had always kept his people in his heart and the idea of a kingdom built on ideals rather then power, a father who had loved his son and wife with his entire heart, and a warrior who faced even certain death with grim determination. If the young prince thought on his father for too long he would break, and his people could ill afford a crying child at their helm.
"Is it ready?" Vicktor tried to project his voice without it cracking, a difficult task for a boy only thirteen years of age. His mages assured him the circle was complete and the spellwork was ready.
The once majestic throne room had been tossed in order to create a massive summoning circle on its stone floors, and within the circle sat the history of his family line in a number of artifacts and treasures, each one being able to be traced back to the man or woman who had claimed them. But baubles had no use for the dead, and even as young as he was Vicktor knew that any sentimentality would hold back. Seeing that all was set up he stepped from the throne, using a padded stepping stool to make up the difference in height as he prepared himself.
"I am Pri...King Victor," he winced at mistake but forced himself to soldier forward. "I stand before this circle and sacrifice the history of my kingdom and its treasures to cast this spell, the unforgivable Rite of Summoning," the circle glowed, causing all the treasure within to melt, spreading out and tracing the lines that had been drawn onto the floor. "My people, my kingdom, my world all stand on the brink, so I call forth heroes to turn the tide, those who can break the hold that evil has on this world," he reached to his neck, removing a pendant from it, the last gift from his mother before one of the Lord's many plagues took her. He gripped it tight before tossing it into the circle, watching as it took was eaten. "Please," tears burned in his eyes even as he forced himself to stay on his feet. "please help."
The spell flared out for a moment before everything just...stopped. Normally the Rite of Summoning was a spell performed by deific beings, finding those worthy of whatever gift they would bestow and calling them forth to an unfamiliar land. However the spell worked a bit differently when used by a human, as there was no divine will to act as an intelligence the human version of the spell created in that moment an artificial being to act as the intelligence. This being had only come into existence less then a second ago, and already it felt like taking a break given the task before it.
The world of Astralsis wasn't just bad off, it was hanging by a thread. Most divine beings had already vacated the world for greener pastures in other realities, and those who hadn't found themselves either chained by dark magic or erased from the world. The weakest monsters were strong enough to bring reasonably skilled warriors to heel, and the strongest beings of darkness could erase entire armies with the same idle devastation a child might bring upon an anthill on a bored afternoon.
please help
With a deep sigh the spell's intelligence began its work, shifting through the vast infinity of reality and trying to find beings that could suit the task in front of them. Despite its near omnipotent abilities the program itself had no divine blessing or gift for those it summoned, so the usual approach of flipping through the recently departed souls of the nearest realities Japan were rendered pointless, requiring a deeper dive. The options were fairly open for power, but there were issues.
Superheroes were a mixed bag, and had too long of a history of corruption or emotional angst to be able to survive the weight of devastation. Armored Heroes were equally out for the same level of emotional instability. Sentai Teams were considered, but trying to pull multiple individuals from the same realm would lead to disaster and only invite prying eyes.
Finally it came across a concept that might work, Magical Girls. Not a concept tied wholly to gender but an idea of a hero of justice who could always make a 'happy ending' occur despite all odds stacking against them. Even those mired in darkness would be effective, and with the programs existence held together by only a single sacrifice it didn't have time to be picky, grabbing the seven closest beings that resembled 'Magical Girls' and dropping them into the world. While it had no real power to give them it dropped a basic translation spell across each of them, ensuring at the very least they would be able to talk.
With that its duty was finished, and the program entered into hibernation, only to rise again to return the heroes to their worlds. If they didn't die at least. But just like the prince the program was willing to make a gamble.
And with this done the world moved once more, with seven figures of immense power dropped in a kingdom under siege, a young king trying to remain regal toward these strange people he had ripped away from their worlds. "Greetings heroes from other worlds," he winced as his voice cracked, trying to hide the discomfort in order to make the best impression. "I am sorry you've been pulled from your lives, there is no excuse I can give, except that without help my people...my world...we...I mean..." it was easy to see how upset he was, trying to focus on words that escaped him. "We desperately need your aid, please help us." he had no offers to give, no right to ask this. Nothing but a childish plea for someone to stand against the darkness and force it back.