[Twi]Chronicles of the Impaler: Crisis of Infinite Draculas OOC

[Cracklord]

Particularly the fai's technology. Why? Because of their craftsmen. And yes, there is an important difference.
Dwarves can make metals with traits they shouldn't have, like iron that bends like a willow switch, gold that regenerates (over time) and silver that's harder then diamond. The dwarves make beautiful, functional things, that never lose their potency. Dwarf made iron will never rust, never wear, never sag, never ever be anything less then as perfect as it was the day it was made. Hence you can find ancient dwarven kingdoms that still look as good as they did a million years ago.
And worse? Goblins. Goblins make clever things that yes, fulfill the same purpose as human machines. Except one thing. They don't have a power source. Of any kind. We're not talking perpetual motion, we're talking total, 100% efficiency. If a goblin were to make (for example) a mill to grind grain, there would be no wind turbines, no water wheel, nothing. The grindstone would simply turn on it's own, until it's stopped. Then, later, it would start up again.
Which is of course necessary where they live, given that magic interferes with technology mostly by short circuiting and dispersing the power sources, so they've adapted in a way that really doesn't make sense. What's worse, it's not magic either. You could set a dozen wizards, and they'd have no luck figuring anything out.
So yeah. Seaton's going to be horrendously pissed off once he gets a chance to really look at what they are doing back. One complaint, why are the fey attacking Leng? They don't want the tower, they want the world back. They want their old kingdoms, they want to reclaim the lands where they once dwelt. Most of them, Nuada included, probably have no idea that the tower even exists.

And I'm not too sure about aliens. They've got their place in these games, but I'm not sure this is the place, working directly for an organization that values absolute secrecy.

Also?
Dresden

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Sir Edward Grey lay submerged in the cold water collected in the cauldron of Bran the Blessed. The ancient Iron cauldron held numerous magical qualities, life-giving ones amongst them, which helped to keep him alive.
Immediately after rising from the cauldron, Sir Edward Grey was roust once more, as robust as when he'd had only had half a century of life behind him. He had a secondary magical life support in the Legendary Spear of Longinus, which he was now forced to carry about with him whenever he was not in the cauldron. But even with the spear, even with all the time he spent in the Twilight Woods and other places where the passing of the moments were meaningless, the strain of holding it all together, the tiny gateway of hope he'd mostly built himself made him age and wither. Twice a day he was forced to soak himself in the cauldron. Soon that would not even be enough, and he wondered how long it would be before the cauldron ceased to revive him at all.
Not long, he thought, as the sun began to warm his home. It was morning, and he relished it, savoring everything. For he knew that each morning might very well be his last one.
He had regrets, as all powerful men do, but he was at peace. He'd lived a long, eventful life. He'd made powerful friends, and forced them to acknowledge and deal with each other, to make them work together for the betterment of everyone. He'd lived in Nightside for a time, where he'd been the Walker for two decades, before he'd retreated still further from the world, and the world had begun to forget him. He'd loved a good woman, done bad things for the right reasons, and in no small part to him there had, for a while, been an age of peace, if not exactly prosperity.
As he knew better then anyone, there is a difference between what happens, and what could happen. Generally only Gods may see what could happen, and thus only Gods may interact across the timelines, while men see only the one, though they may travel to any point in time on any world save prior to their birth on the world of their birth. But Edward saw much.
And so he worked with the friends and allies he'd made, the voice of free will and hope while they prophesied dark days to come. He would not live long, now, but he would see to it that the multiverse would outlive him. "You'll have to be patient, Arawn." He said aloud, as a susurrous of murmurs began in his ear. His old friend was always impatient this early in the day. "Not today, I'm afraid. Come back tomorrow." Then he listened more closely to the whispers, and frowned, his old, lined face almost lost within the wrinkles as the lines deepened.
And everything had seemed to be going so well...

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I am Harry Dresden, and, like most people, I like living. I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing.
Which is why I am currently whistling 'Always look on the Bright Side of Life', by Monty Python. So I am dead, but things were looking up, and anyway, worse things happen at sea, you know?
I'm making my way back from purgatory. I didn't want to, but an old acquaintance of mine the archangel Gabriel made me an offer I couldn't refuse. People think it would be cool to know men like Gabriel. Personally, I miss the friends I had in Chicago.
So here I am, wandering the Ghost Roads.
It's apparently a place of madness, but there is no real say on my sanity one way or the other, so don't take the fact that I'm more or less the same as definitive proof of one way or another. A limbo, a vacuum of nothingness, no sound, not even my gasp of shock, no light, just a dull gray that formed no boundary, met no horizon, no heat, no cold. Simply nothing.
It's not getting to the land of the dead that's the problem. It's getting back. But there are ways. Cracks one can find, in order to drag themselves back to the land of the living. And quite without my say in the matter, here I was.
I felt solid ground beneath my boots. An aura of menace wrapped around me, stealing in like a coastal summer fog. It caressed my cheek and touched my heart. It chilled me to the core, and I shivered. I didn't like it. I'm a fighter, and I fight against - against a target, an enemy. While every instinct I had told screamed at me to defend myself, there was nothing to defend myself from or against. And yet I sensed overwhelming danger. Fists clenched, I took a deep breath and calmed myself. I released the tension in my body, dangling my arms to my sides. And then I saw him.
A tall figure walked by me, clad in a black, broadcloth coat. A traveling coat. In his hand, he held an old-fashioned traveling valise, of the sort a drummer or traveling salesman might have carried his goods or samples in the days of yore. It was made of hyena hide, and it was not still. It puffed and bulged below the long white fingers that gripped the handle. And inside, like the sound of a distant wind or the ghostly cry one hears in high-tension wires, came the sound of screams.
I would bet my own that the bag that man carried was full of human souls. So I did what any man would do, I took a swing. My fist passed harmlessly through the travelin' man, who kept on walking like I wasn't even there. Guess what? Ghosts are even incorporeal when they don't want to be.
So with no real choice, I started down the path. I'd only gone a few steps, when I got my second visitor.
It was a whale. A monstrous bull of a white whale, it's hide scarred, torn and mangled after years of fights. A red eye gleams hellishly with surprising intelligence, and it's fangs are almost as big as an upright man. So huge, so monstrous a creature should have no place on any earth, no way to exist. But more then terror is a feeling of awe. The beast in majestic in it's terrible splendor, like the living avatar of the wrath of the ocean, and from the tip of it's tale to the end of it's jaw it was beautifully, horribly lethal. It glides above the plane I stand on, swimming through the air as it does the sea. And as it emerges from the mist, I see two more, harnessed to a vast crenelate shell wherein rode the gray and awful form of primal Nodens, Lord of the Great Abyss.
I didn't wet myself, scream like a little girl, or curl up into a little ball and go comfortably insane. It was a close thing, but I kept my self respect. Then again, I didn't bravely march up to him and demand he leave me alone either. I don't like bullies, and I don't like things that look down on me from such a height either, but this, this overwhelming power of nature incarnate was something else entirely. There was no arguing with nature, save by the axe. There was no method or purpose to this, no reason or law. It simply was, and would be forever, separate and apart from our understanding of it.
The chariot stopped before me, and the lord of the abyss turned his eyes on me, gold flecked with deepest peat brown and forest green. He reached down with a hoary, wizened hand and grabbed me, lifting me level with his face, and after that I remember nothing.
When I next opened my eyes, I had a heartbeat, a body, and slept as peacefully as I had since the day I found a strange girl in my basement and a path to the end of the universe.
The gloom was a soft, sheltering darkness, the night cold, bitterly cold. The wind whipped my face unmercifully, stinging with shards of ice, and mist curls around the boles of the old, dark trees, ominous presences who's branches met over the trail, intertwined like a giant at prayer. Between them they filtered all but a few solitary shafts of pale moonlight that grudgingly illuminating the woods around. Moss covered the branches and the scaly bark of the trunks resembled nothing so much as the scaly hide of dead serpents, with hints of gnarled faces in the twisting bark. A stillness as old as the vast primeval forest, broken only by occasional stirrings in the undergrowth.
This was no enchanted forest. Well, it was, but it was the other kind. The kind that was an ancient place set with monoliths where the old gods dragged women with flaxen hair to slit their throats and watch approvingly as their blood nurtured the trees.
And yet, I was comfortable. Things were looking up, because right in front of me, there was Leahnsidhe, radiant as ever. Better still, there was no sign of the hunter who had picked me up, which was a huge relief. They say to be more worried of subtle, indirect threats, but that's bull. You don't get points for elegance, and power is always better then style. I didn't always know that. But I do now.
She saw me awake and spread her arms, giving me a radiant smile that showed her dazzling white teeth. I almost didn't notice she's dressed for war. "Little one." She said, her voice as sweet as honey smells to the flies who give in to temptation and are entombed within. "You are returned to us. It is well, for this is the last time we shall ever talk, and there is much I can no longer tell you."
I was troubled. Fatalism from inherently selfish beings has that effect. But I didn't let it show. "Then do you have to keep up the pet names? You know my name, feel free to wear it out."
She shook her head indulgently, like I was her baby and I'd just taken my first step. Not at all patronizing. "By oak and ash and thorn you can be a stubborn one." She said "Dead four hundred years and still the same as you always were."
Four hundred... "So I can finally buy a jetpack then?" I said, a touch desperately. So everyone I know and love is dead. Probably mostly from old age. In that time, the continents might have moved a bit (I don't know, they're meant to be slow, but how slow I don't have a clue) Hell, MacDonalds is probably gone by now, although that alone is almost too confronting to deal with.
"Don't be foolish. You are still bound to winter, and Mab has demands for you."
"So she sent you to soften the blow?"
"Not in the least. She is paying the price, I am using an opportunity to warn you. Soon I shall be dead, as will Mab, and all the court of winter shall be a memory, leaving the seasons to those we stole them from in the first place. Your task is to be to avenge us."
"You are aware I don't like you all that much, right? I mean, Lea, I know you think you are helping me, but you lot use and manipulate me, and have never given me reason to trust you as far as I can toss Notre Dam."
"I told you never to let her take you to the stone table. You should have listened. Now you must serve, and when we are gone, nothing will be there to protect you from the Winter Knight."
"I can look after myself, particularly when the enemy is me."
"You are not the winter knight. You are it's vessel. There is a difference."
"The man comes and goes, but the institution lasts forever? Something like that?"
"Power cannot be created. When we took the office from the first Knight, his soul came with it. And so he has lingered, all these years, in the bodies of the successive knights. Soon, he will begin to take over, to conquer you from within, and take all that you are for his own."
"Let him try." I replied. "I've got bigger problems. So what's going to kill me?"
"Circumstances of your making. Which is why Mab chose you, you blunder in and break everything you touch, even that which has been eternal since the earth was dust. If anyone can destroy that which has come to be, it's you."
"Hey now, that's not fair. I'm just looking after myself." i said, a little too defensively. "You're not pinning blame on me."
"Actions have consequences. You killed Aurora, and the only one of us who wanted to help your kind. Thanks to that, they've decided they'd prefer a universe without your kind living on it."
"Aurora was going to hurt a lot of people."
"She was trying to help humanity. Now that she's gone, her people are going to try and kill you instead." Lea said, mercilessly. "Unless you stop them."
"And how am I supposed to do that?"
Something loomed behind her, but she didn't seem to notice. "If I knew that, pet, do you really imagine I would go out to meet my doom?" And with that, the mountainous figure that was Nodens emerged from the fog, towering above me.
Nodens didn't waste time. He just placed his thumb on my forehead, his skin so cold it burned, and held it there a moment.
"My mark is on you now, and a geas with it. I bind you to carry out the tasks we have given you with all the power you possess. I bind you with frost and with fire and the weight of the world, so that should you turn from your duty your bones shall turn to ice, your flesh shall be devoured by the flames, and what remains shall be ground to powder."
Well there was no arguing with that. Harry Dresden, last night of Winter, signing on.

Hellboy next, and I'll finally finish the Solomon versus Nicodemus fight.

[Colesign]

Huh. I thought I had heard earlier in this forum that the Fae's Crusade across creation was in part to claim the Dark Tower for themselves.

And good narrative, Cracklord.

[Cracklord]

Then you're probably right. But I always figured they wanted their own homes back. A bit more of a sympathetic motive then another evil army bent on multiversal conquest (we have enough of them already).

[Colesign]

Exactly: I'd assumed they wished to claim the Dark Tower so that they could rewrite their own destinies, and shape a future in which they became great once more...and put humans in their place.

Richard Seaton, however comes from an era of science fiction where Heroes committed the genocide of entire 'evil empires' and 'evil species' without batting an eye. He's more than willing to exterminate them all out if they insist upon a battle, under the belief that they're 'all evil'.

Combined with his trauma at the hands of Phyrexia, he could be getting a little scarier down the road if people don't talk sense into him. It doesn't help that his closest alien friends are a group of genocidal green-skinned Social Darwinists.

...but otherwise, how do you think I could improve the 'flash-forward'?

[darkblade]

Hellboy is going to have to slap some sense into Seaton soon isn't he? If anyone should have a problem with the "always Chaotic Evil" mindset Seaton has right now it'd be him.

In theory if they took the tower they would be taking back their all the worlds.

The Aliens...I like the idea of the Knights pulling all the stops for this war including out of genre contacts but to have them so in the know is what pushes it too much. I'd say have them there as a personal request by Seaton and not in the know about the Knights and whatever else they have planned.

[Cracklord]

Well, that works, but the Tower shouldn't be over-used. Remember, you can't just go there. You have to get around the Source Wall, which is not easy.

To be honest, I have no real criticisms. The only advice I can offer is play up the anachronism of it all a bit. The real power of the elves is nobody has a clue what they really can do.

[Colesign]

Hellboy is going to have to slap some sense into Seaton soon isn't he? If anyone should have a problem with the "always Chaotic Evil" mindset Seaton has right now it'd be him.

In theory if they took the tower they would be taking back their all the worlds.

The Aliens...I like the idea of the Knights pulling all the stops for this war including out of genre contacts but to have them so in the know is what pushes it too much. I'd say have them there as a personal request by Seaton and not in the know about the Knights and whatever else they have planned.

Mmm. Perhaps Seaton brings in a Green System strike force but doesn't tell them precisely what they are fighting for: Seaton has a thing for fighting conquering otherworldly forces, and Dunark goes along with it because A: Seaton's the Boss. B: It's fighting, and fighting is awesome! and C: It's a 'moral' thing, and Dunark knows that Seaton cares about this 'protecting of the weak' business.

And yeah. Seaton's ideologies haven't had the chance to evolve much since his entry into the mythos. But it's not truly malevolence, so much as a skewed viewpoint that doesn't consider other possibilities.

The RP will...be interesting. Especially with Hellboy's 'cut the crap' attitude.

[Colesign]

Hellboy is going to have to slap some sense into Seaton soon isn't he? If anyone should have a problem with the "always Chaotic Evil" mindset Seaton has right now it'd be him.

In theory if they took the tower they would be taking back their all the worlds.

The Aliens...I like the idea of the Knights pulling all the stops for this war including out of genre contacts but to have them so in the know is what pushes it too much. I'd say have them there as a personal request by Seaton and not in the know about the Knights and whatever else they have planned.

Mmm. Perhaps Seaton brings in a Green System strike force but doesn't tell them precisely what they are fighting for: Seaton has a thing for fighting conquering otherworldly forces, and Dunark goes along with it because A: Seaton's the Boss. B: It's fighting, and fighting is awesome! and C: It's a 'moral' thing, and Dunark knows that Seaton cares about this 'protecting of the weak' business.

And yeah. Seaton's ideologies haven't had the chance to evolve much since his entry into the mythos. But it's not truly malevolence, so much as a skewed viewpoint that doesn't consider other possibilities.

The RP will...be interesting. Especially with Hellboy's 'cut the crap' attitude.

[Draxx]

I think I'd like to hold down on this for a bit and wait for a game so we can roleplay it.

[Colesign]

Fair point Draxx.

Of course, the irony is that the opening 'in medias res' scene that my 'flash-forward' was styled on wound up never actually coming to pass, just as it's likely mine isn't going to.

[Terry576]

So Draxx, did Salem kill the Headmaster? I'm confused about that.

[Draxx]

That's darkblade's call. But my guess would be probably. I mean, Hansel's powers are basically can't be banished the same way twice (called the cunning man for a reason) and make other people hate as much as he does. So even if he were still possessing the man, he'd still be hopelessly outclassed.

[Colesign]

Say Darkblade:

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In Smedry's Evil Librarianverse, every Library would have a secret door leading to a terrifyingly large tower (spatially compressed) of nightmarously organized and claustrophobically stacked books, tended by robed cultists and staffed by ruthless experimenters with tweed suits and horn-rimmed glasses figuring out ways to deceive an innocent populace and discover new, sinister technologies.

The smaller libraries would have smaller such things, with fewer guards. Which is why Smedry's infiltrating this one, as opposed to the downtown library.

Usually, he can also use his Occulator Lenses to figure out how many hidden floors there are, and whether there are Dark Occulators/sorcerers inside, or prominent Lens-forging facilities.

...of course, that's his setting. Things are quite different here.

What sort of things would he be running into in this game in the Ashford Library? More Sparklypires? Paper Masters? Tweed wearing Knightmare frames?

Also, Smedry has several Lens fragments that can be reforged, and only three remaining intact ones: Occulator Lenses, Tracker Lenses, and Agefinders Lenses.

Additionally, when do you want his Talent to come back? Is it going to be in a few more days,or sooner, or...at a dramatic moment?

[darkblade]

He'll get his powers back when it is appropriately dramatic or in two more in game days. Which ever comes first.

[Colesign]

I was in a bit of a good mood, and suddenly felt like writing an expansion to the 'flash-forward' I did for the upcoming Fae War campaign.

I focused a lot on the big explosions and big battle scenes, and may or may not have been watching too much giant robot animation at the time of writing.

But what about the smaller story that went on during the War for the Tower? What about the ground level fights and struggles that took place, the discoveries, tragedies, and shocking revelations upon which the fate of both the Multiverse and good fiction reside?

That's what I set out to explore in this fictional excerpt.

Spoiler

Show

The Nightside.

It's the secret heart of London, a place of delight and damnation in equal measure, a place of vice and glitz and seedy glamour, marvels and obscenities, that you can end up in with just one wrong turn down a dark filthy alley or getting on the wrong train in the underground, where you can buy sin on a Shiskabab from a traveling vendor and snarf it down in one bite with a hint of alien spices, but you'd best watch out because angels are dancing on the head of the skewer, and they'll give you splinters and tear into your tongue like the fires of hell, and best not go to the nearest hospitals, because things are never as they seem in the Nightside, and those hospitals might just turn out to be living nightmarish organic slurry making demon chameleons–ah hell, it's the Nightside, every house is an abomination looking to devour your soul!

It's the Nightside.

I'm John Taylor, and I've got a Gift for Finding Things. In the Nightside.

The Dark Heart of London.

I used to be a private investigator. But then I wound up fighting my mother the biblical myth and won...and became a legend.

While still being a private investigator. And then my surrogate father tricked me into killing him and I got saddled with his job as Walker, the Man in charge of the Nightside.

Which happens to be the Dark Heart of London.

Then I got hired to guard a young girl named Door, and got sucked into a vast and ridiculous quest to save the whole of infinite creation from the depredations of a horrible young adult author and her twisted bishie vampire creations, and now I am a Knight, sworn to protect the Dark Tower from the bastards that would try to exploit it or bring it toppling down.

**** got ridiculous.

It's a dirty job, but someone's got to do it. But if you stop by London, feel free to look me up if you need something found.

In the Nightside. The Secret Heart of London

But back then, I wasn't in the Nightside. I was wandering about the Nevernever, right smack dab in the middle of Faerieland, running for my life, keeping pace with Hellboy, World's Greatest Occult Detective, and the wizard Carlos Ramirez, the Warden.

We were being chased by a bunch of movie monsters.

"I REALLYYYY HATE FETCHESSSSS!" Ramirez shouted as he dashed through thick, bramble-fileld woods with twisted branches, while a ghost-faced slasher, irradiated zombie, and a screw-headed pastyface with clanking chains followed behind us.

He turned to me, teeth very, very obviously clenched.

"AND YOU KNOW WHAT I HATE EVEN MORE THAN FETCHESSSSS????" He drawled as he turned around and hurled a searing beam of green energy behind him, a green bolt than turned all the nearby terrain to dust and sand.

"THAT'S RIGHT:MAGIC RESISTANT FETCHES!!!!!!" Ramirez confirmed. "THEY'RE JUST A BARREL OF LAUGHS, AREN'T THEY?"

"Sure they are, kid: nobody–Oof– nobody here likes this crap!" Hellboy grunted, turning around and firing his large revolver behind him at our pursuers, the shots going wide. "We need to figure something out."

"I've got an idea." I said, tucking my hands into my coat pockets. "I think I can use my Gift to find the source of their power, and–"

"No." Ramirez growled.

"But if I can open my Private Eye, my mother's dark inheritance–"

"No. Just No." Ramirez growled again, pointing an accusing finger at me. "We are not doing that!"

"Why not?"

"Because it's stupid! You're stupid! You're always like 'Ooh, scary monster! I'll just use my Gift to instantly find it's weak spot and blow it up!' What the heck kind of power is that? It's almost as bad as your pepper fixation!"

"Pepper is a useful substance!" I retorted.

"You're a useful substance!"

"Guys!" Hellboy shouted. "Fetches? Lots of them! Imminent death? Ringing any bells?"

"Gah! Sorry." Ramirez said, clutching his staff tight. "Um–we've got only one chance! I'll open a Way, and we all hope that it doesn't lead to our instant death!"

"Really? Doesn't sound all that great, if you don't mind me saying!" Hellboy replied.

"You got any better ideas?" Ramirez retorted, batting a incoming disembodied chain away with a sickly green energy shield, and a spoke word.

"Ah, damn." Hellboy muttered. He looked at me. "You got any ideas, Taylor?"

I shoved my hands even deeper into my trenchcoat pockets. Then an idea came to me, and I grinned.

"I think I can use my Gift to find the source of their hormone production and exploit it, inducing a bout of unexpected Lactation–"

"Open the Way Now!" Hellboy shouted.

"Right!!!!" Ramirez shouted, and gestured at the air in front of him with his staff, tearing at the veils between realities. A gap appeared in midair, leading to somewhere dark. We dove through, and–

%%%

–smashed into a chilly metal wall, all of us cramped and pressed together in some kind of damp compartment.

"Figures!" Hellboy snarled, looking around. "What's your status, everyone?"

"Fine!" I shouted, picking myself up and looking around the place.

"I'll be fine as soon as the Right Hand of Doom could let me breath again, please." The Warden wheezed, a knuckle from the instrument of destruction smooshing his face against a riveted porthole.

Huh. A porthole.

As it turned out, we were all suddenly stuck inside a bathysphere. A fairly large and baroque bathysphere, but a bathysphere all the same, with all of the crampedness you'd think would happen if you were stuck in a bathysphere. There was a series of lights outside which showed us that the craft we were in was descending slowly down a underwater tunnel. A cloud of bubbles billowing up past the window as we sank deeper and deeper into the ocean.

As we were trying to untangle ourselves, a series of runes carved into the steel walls of the Bathysphere began glowing with a lurid red hue, and a crystal ball descended from a panel in the ceiling.

"What the hell?" I muttered.

"Get back!" Hellboy barked.

Where?" Ramirez asked.

"Shhh!"

The Crystal flickered, and suddenly the image of a man sprang into existence within it. A muscular, bearded man, with sharp, aloof features, dressed in a shepherd's vest, with a really, really swanky sword strapped to his side, and a very, very, very serious expression on his face, as he stood behind a a blood red banner with a skull symbol on it...next to a rich leather armchair, a pipe clenched between his teeth.

He opened his mouth and spoke:

“I...am Richard Rahl.

And I am here to Ask You a Question.

Is a Man Not Entitled to Moral Clarity?”

NOOOOO! Says the man in the Midlands. Morality is relative!

NOOOOOooooOOOoooOOOO!!!!!!!!!!! Says the Sisters of the Light: Morality is made by the Creator!

….

*cough*

….

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!! Says the man from the Imperial Order: Morality serves the needs of everyone!

I...Rejected those Answers. Instead. I chose something different. I Chose The Impossible!!! I Chose–

–D'HARAPTURE!!!!!!!!

Where the sculptor would not fear the censor! Where the wizard would not be constrained by secret religious societies! Where Reason! Would Not Be Governed by Stupidity!

And with your Moral Clarity...D'harapture can become your underwater city as well.”

The image flicked off, and we beheld the city of 'D'harapture'.

We stared for a moment. Ramirez broke the silence.

“John...even though I am nowhere near British, I'm going to go ahead and ask you if I can borrow your native vocabulary for a moment.”

“Permision granted."

“Oh Bollocks.”

Which probably won't take place in canon. And is silly.

Although I'm not sure why someone hasn't made this connection yet.

[Terry576]

I have finals for next week and I'm playing ridiculous amounts of D3.

I'll probably begin posting again on Wednesday, as that is the time when most of my finals are over and done with, and I just need to cram for Physics.

[industrious]

I was in a bit of a good mood, and suddenly felt like writing an expansion to the 'flash-forward' I did for the upcoming Fae War campaign.

I focused a lot on the big explosions and big battle scenes, and may or may not have been watching too much giant robot animation at the time of writing.

But what about the smaller story that went on during the War for the Tower? What about the ground level fights and struggles that took place, the discoveries, tragedies, and shocking revelations upon which the fate of both the Multiverse and good fiction reside?

That's what I set out to explore in this fictional excerpt.

Spoiler

Show

The Nightside.

It's the secret heart of London, a place of delight and damnation in equal measure, a place of vice and glitz and seedy glamour, marvels and obscenities, that you can end up in with just one wrong turn down a dark filthy alley or getting on the wrong train in the underground, where you can buy sin on a Shiskabab from a traveling vendor and snarf it down in one bite with a hint of alien spices, but you'd best watch out because angels are dancing on the head of the skewer, and they'll give you splinters and tear into your tongue like the fires of hell, and best not go to the nearest hospitals, because things are never as they seem in the Nightside, and those hospitals might just turn out to be living nightmarish organic slurry making demon chameleons–ah hell, it's the Nightside, every house is an abomination looking to devour your soul!

It's the Nightside.

I'm John Taylor, and I've got a Gift for Finding Things. In the Nightside.

The Dark Heart of London.

I used to be a private investigator. But then I wound up fighting my mother the biblical myth and won...and became a legend.

While still being a private investigator. And then my surrogate father tricked me into killing him and I got saddled with his job as Walker, the Man in charge of the Nightside.

Which happens to be the Dark Heart of London.

Then I got hired to guard a young girl named Door, and got sucked into a vast and ridiculous quest to save the whole of infinite creation from the depredations of a horrible young adult author and her twisted bishie vampire creations, and now I am a Knight, sworn to protect the Dark Tower from the bastards that would try to exploit it or bring it toppling down.

**** got ridiculous.

It's a dirty job, but someone's got to do it. But if you stop by London, feel free to look me up if you need something found.

In the Nightside. The Secret Heart of London

But back then, I wasn't in the Nightside. I was wandering about the Nevernever, right smack dab in the middle of Faerieland, running for my life, keeping pace with Hellboy, World's Greatest Occult Detective, and the wizard Carlos Ramirez, the Warden.

We were being chased by a bunch of movie monsters.

"I REALLYYYY HATE FETCHESSSSS!" Ramirez shouted as he dashed through thick, bramble-fileld woods with twisted branches, while a ghost-faced slasher, irradiated zombie, and a screw-headed pastyface with clanking chains followed behind us.

He turned to me, teeth very, very obviously clenched.

"AND YOU KNOW WHAT I HATE EVEN MORE THAN FETCHESSSSS????" He drawled as he turned around and hurled a searing beam of green energy behind him, a green bolt than turned all the nearby terrain to dust and sand.

"THAT'S RIGHT:MAGIC RESISTANT FETCHES!!!!!!" Ramirez confirmed. "THEY'RE JUST A BARREL OF LAUGHS, AREN'T THEY?"

"Sure they are, kid: nobody–Oof– nobody here likes this crap!" Hellboy grunted, turning around and firing his large revolver behind him at our pursuers, the shots going wide. "We need to figure something out."

"I've got an idea." I said, tucking my hands into my coat pockets. "I think I can use my Gift to find the source of their power, and–"

"No." Ramirez growled.

"But if I can open my Private Eye, my mother's dark inheritance–"

"No. Just No." Ramirez growled again, pointing an accusing finger at me. "We are not doing that!"

"Why not?"

"Because it's stupid! You're stupid! You're always like 'Ooh, scary monster! I'll just use my Gift to instantly find it's weak spot and blow it up!' What the heck kind of power is that? It's almost as bad as your pepper fixation!"

"Pepper is a useful substance!" I retorted.

"You're a useful substance!"

"Guys!" Hellboy shouted. "Fetches? Lots of them! Imminent death? Ringing any bells?"

"Gah! Sorry." Ramirez said, clutching his staff tight. "Um–we've got only one chance! I'll open a Way, and we all hope that it doesn't lead to our instant death!"

"Really? Doesn't sound all that great, if you don't mind me saying!" Hellboy replied.

"You got any better ideas?" Ramirez retorted, batting a incoming disembodied chain away with a sickly green energy shield, and a spoke word.

"Ah, damn." Hellboy muttered. He looked at me. "You got any ideas, Taylor?"

I shoved my hands even deeper into my trenchcoat pockets. Then an idea came to me, and I grinned.

"I think I can use my Gift to find the source of their hormone production and exploit it, inducing a bout of unexpected Lactation–"

"Open the Way Now!" Hellboy shouted.

"Right!!!!" Ramirez shouted, and gestured at the air in front of him with his staff, tearing at the veils between realities. A gap appeared in midair, leading to somewhere dark. We dove through, and–

%%%

–smashed into a chilly metal wall, all of us cramped and pressed together in some kind of damp compartment.

"Figures!" Hellboy snarled, looking around. "What's your status, everyone?"

"Fine!" I shouted, picking myself up and looking around the place.

"I'll be fine as soon as the Right Hand of Doom could let me breath again, please." The Warden wheezed, a knuckle from the instrument of destruction smooshing his face against a riveted porthole.

Huh. A porthole.

As it turned out, we were all suddenly stuck inside a bathysphere. A fairly large and baroque bathysphere, but a bathysphere all the same, with all of the crampedness you'd think would happen if you were stuck in a bathysphere. There was a series of lights outside which showed us that the craft we were in was descending slowly down a underwater tunnel. A cloud of bubbles billowing up past the window as we sank deeper and deeper into the ocean.

As we were trying to untangle ourselves, a series of runes carved into the steel walls of the Bathysphere began glowing with a lurid red hue, and a crystal ball descended from a panel in the ceiling.

"What the hell?" I muttered.

"Get back!" Hellboy barked.

Where?" Ramirez asked.

"Shhh!"

The Crystal flickered, and suddenly the image of a man sprang into existence within it. A muscular, bearded man, with sharp, aloof features, dressed in a shepherd's vest, with a really, really swanky sword strapped to his side, and a very, very, very serious expression on his face, as he stood behind a a blood red banner with a skull symbol on it...next to a rich leather armchair, a pipe clenched between his teeth.

He opened his mouth and spoke:

“I...am Richard Rahl.

And I am here to Ask You a Question.

Is a Man Not Entitled to Moral Clarity?”

NOOOOO! Says the man in the Midlands. Morality is relative!

NOOOOOooooOOOoooOOOO!!!!!!!!!!! Says the Sisters of the Light: Morality is made by the Creator!

….

*cough*

….

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!! Says the man from the Imperial Order: Morality serves the needs of everyone!

I...Rejected those Answers. Instead. I chose something different. I Chose The Impossible!!! I Chose–

–D'HARAPTURE!!!!!!!!

Where the sculptor would not fear the censor! Where the wizard would not be constrained by secret religious societies! Where Reason! Would Not Be Governed by Stupidity!

And with your Moral Clarity...D'harapture can become your underwater city as well.”

The image flicked off, and we beheld the city of 'D'harapture'.

We stared for a moment. Ramirez broke the silence.

“John...even though I am nowhere near British, I'm going to go ahead and ask you if I can borrow your native vocabulary for a moment.”

“Permision granted."

“Oh Bollocks.”

Which probably won't take place in canon. And is silly.

Although I'm not sure why someone hasn't made this connection yet.

This is hilarious. I approve highly.

[Colesign]

And so it is that America regains it's space chutpaz!!!

[Cracklord]

Good to see science being used for something awesome again.

[darkblade]

I actually am watching Utena but I'm only on Disc 2 of the first box set.

Since one of Tygre's characters is Touga, some aspects from the series had to come into this game. I tried to keep the reality bending Princess and Princesses and metaphorical sword fights that may or not be sex to a minimum.

[doliest]

So.....apology time for flaking out something like...a really long time ago?

Gonna be honest here, I've got no excuse beyond the fact that when I...well, disappeared from the forum entirely I was feeling an immense amount of apathy towards, well, everything. But wheels turn, life moves on, and I've done a little self-discovery in the intervening time, so I decided it was time to tighten my frilly stockings, pull up my thong, and say sorry for flaking.

Obviously too late to get back in on this game, but if possible I would like to know what I've missed.

[Cracklord]

Doliest is back! This calls for a song!
Unfortunately, I can't carry a tune, so I'll leave that to one of our more talented comrades.
As for what you've missed, a surprisingly small amount. This game is one of the slow, multi-layered games, so you can probably ease your way back in with a minimum of fuss.

[doliest]

Huh. Well, if no one is opposed to it, I'll give it a shot.

Also, Utena is in this? That's great; it's one of my favorite anime things.

Well, either way time to binge read through the thread and see what insanity you people have gotten up to.

[darkblade]

I'll bring you in on my next post.

[Draxx]

I'm a fair singer.

Ahem:
Turn around, every now and then I get a little bit lonely, then I see the look in your eyes...

Wait, that's not how it goes. Carry on then gentlemen.

[nanobot_swarm]

Hello again guys, how has the current game been going for ya'all?

[Colesign]

Good to have you bakc doliest.

[doliest]

So, giving the insanity class and sophistication creativity, yes, that is a good word, I feel that the assembled lynchers are the best people to turn to when I'm working on a setting. Is that acceptable?

[Cracklord]

I'm good to help. Though you should have stuck with insanity. It's more honest.
By the way, still want to do that crappy fanfiction minigame?

And the current game's moving a little slowly, but a lot of fun.

[doliest]

Indeed it is.

And yes, yes I am- I've gotten practice in freeform DMing since I last...yeah. Some good(An attempt to tell an original story in a...mostly custom setting worked decently.)

I'll post the details in a bit, but the idea behind the setting is sort of a 'High-Fantasy Post Apocolypse'