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

[Colesign]

And the mi-go.

I figured it was because we lacked the means. It's one thing to posses the theory, another to posses the technology, yet another to put it into widespread production, and an entirely different animal to actually apply it species wide.

Besides, galactic empires don't last long, thanks to beings like C'thulhu. When their neighbors get too rowdy, they start to get restless, so to speak. Not to mention that in this universe evolution will eventually let your species be able to crush moons with your bare hands, if the more impressive superhero specimens are anything to go by, and you have a pretty good reason again.

Trust Cracklord to bring up the quite obvious in retrospect Eldritch Abomination angle.

And indeed, one of the reasons behind the suppression of Earth's spacefaring capabilities by...certain agents is to keep the human race from being squashed by certain powerful beings until we've evolved enough to take them on. This may explain why these 'certain agents' are letting the 'third-rate' alien invaders through: to toughen humans up.

It's tricky to justify the presence of 'Super Science' spacecraft alongside both real-life space programs and 'hard sci-fi' technology. Your thoughts on theoretical vs. application are right on the spot for how I chose to go about it, Cracklord.

In a nutshell, all the mad scientists who created the rocketships and spaceships of the raygun toting space heroes of the 1930s and 40s had this going for them:

1. Mad Science. Good for one shot, grandiose inventions: not so practical for application in mainstream culture. (View records on 'Professor Death for textbook example)

2. Access to rare bits of Unobtanium that can't be easily found or reproduced: Cavor's 'Cavorite', Seaton's 'X' substance, primordial black holes, cosmic strings, etc.

3. A willingness to take insane risks and scatter all safety standards and regulations to the four solar winds. Check out this link to some real-life engine designs. Check out the entries on Metastable Helium, Gas Core Fission Rockets, Nuclear Salt-Water Rockets, and Project Orion. All achievable with modern technology, even with 1950s era technology...with horrific consequences if misused or botched.

So the powers that be aren't just suppressing these methods of space travels out of sheer mull-headedness. They've got reasons that are good to them.

But it's the men who commit sins for the 'greater good' that often end up royally screwing things up.

Here's the first section of my fictional piece detailing the consequences of the suppression of space travel from Earth/the ridiculous amount of alien invasions it suffers.

Spoiler

Show

Berlin, February 1956

“I just want to go back into space.”

Mary Raven blurted out those words suddenly as she looked at the newspaper's headline, sinking back into the comfiest leather armchair in the lounge of the Berlin branch of the Explorer's Club, the honks, drones, and murmurs of cars and dirigibles leaking through the window from the busy metropolis outside.

“Your brandy, Mr. Crabb.” One of the waiters intoned quietly, handing the aforementioned swifter to the gentled-featured, indubitably British gentleman across the table from Mary Raven.

“Good man, Friedrich.” He replied in a soft voice, removing a corncob pipe from his lips and cradling it in his left hand. “Now, Mary: what has crawled up your arse and died today, gel?”
The young space pilot, whose temperament at this moment was indeed matching the color of her hair, crumbled the front pages of the newspaper in disgust.

“This. France just signed the Restriction Accord. No more spacelaunch on French-controlled soil. Legal restrictions on uranium breeding for all but government-backed corporations, metastable rocket fuel outlawed, no radium in private hands...”

She rolled her head back. “That's it. That's Europe closed off. Except for Britain, but that's all government-controlled.”

“It won't be long there, either, I'm afraid. There's talk in the corridors of back home about decommissioning the British Space Fleet.” Mr. Crabb replied with a helpless shrug.

“If they could shoot decent photos from orbit, we'd keep them around. But the cameras aren't good enough.”

He learned back and puffed on his pipe.

“My country's not a power anymore, y'see. It'd like to be, but it's not. No room in the budget of a country still trying to pay off a war to keep the Thunderbirds and XLs running...so best leave all the space malarky to the Americans and Russians...they have all the German technicians anyway...”

“Stolen technicians...” Mary replied, brows furrowed. “Dr. Zarkov built the first roving interplanetary ship in his backyard ten years ago and went all the way to Mongo and back...”

“And then there's this fellow in the news...a Yank named Cargraves...got nicked by state police for enlisting some juvenile delinquents in stuffing an old mail rocket full of thorium so he could zoom about up there...” Crabb added.”

“...and yet the U.S. has to spend millions and rely on a group of terror weapon makers to work their way up to a moon-shot.”

Sarcasm filled every contour of her voice. “A moon shot. Christ, can't this 'NASA' aim any higher?”

“To be fair, love.” Crabb intejected, puffing out a ring of smoke. “Lots of folks have made moon shots cheap and on the down-low...don't think anyone's ever made it back yet...”

Mary Raven frowned. “And yet I went to Mars and Venus by the time I was 19. Some people are calling it the Moon Curse. Hmph: Fancy way of saying no idea what happens to the folks who try.”

Mr. Crabb nodded gravely, puffing away.

”...well, that's spacefaring for you: wouldn't touch it with an atomic-powered stick. I'll stick to trawling seas for shipwrecks, thank you very much.”

Mary set the crumbled newspaper on the table and regarded her colleague with quiet eyes.

“You've never gone up there?”

“Me? Christ no.” Crabb said with a shudder.

“Fraulein Raven.” A voice spoke up, said voice being the Maitre De returning with a slip of paper on the tray. “Telegram from New York City.”

Another letter from Mother, urging me to give up my space jamming sinful ways like the Leadfooted Luddite she is? Or maybe one where she gloated about how the government confiscated the 'Teatime' from me? Mary wondered, opening up the slip of paper.

This was when things changed.

The telegraph read.

M. Raven:

The World Has Gone Wrong.

The Future is being Bent.

If you are willing to trust me, then meet me at the Gun Club.



2|
+

(+)

The Future is being Bent? The Gun Club?

“What is it, gel? Bad news?” Mr. Crabb asked.

Mary Raven peered at the solar system map intently.

Was it asking her to go to distant point in the solar system? Fat chance with her rocketship on it's way to the scrapyard. Unless, if those symbols meant what she thought they...

“No.” she replied finally, folding up the telegram. “Just someone with enough money and no enough sense pulling a stupid prank. No way am I going to check it out.”

%%%

She checked it out, of course.

The solar system map turned out to be a code: things were skewed in an odd way, specifically the positions of Earth and Jupiter. When you measured their orbital periods, coordinates popped out.

Longitude and Latitude. A spot right in the center of the swamps of Florida.

She took the personal Aerocopter, 'The Flying Pigeon' out to the location, stopping overnight in Chile to rest on a lonely beach, cockpit open to feel the gentle sea breeze.

It was cloudy when she set down on the flat dirt, a mile-wide patch of solid ground in the midst of swamp, bramble, and brush.

She set her ship down as softly as a thistle on a ray of light, and popped the cockpit, sliding out, raising her flight goggles and dropping to the ground, a hand sliding to the ray gun at her side as she straightened up form a crouch.

She blew a piece of stray hair poking out from her pilot cap, and scanned the area for lodgings or men in trenchcoats or ambushes or other such things.

And she saw a small pillar of smoke rising upward, from the opposite side of the grove next to her.

She unbuckled her holster strap and set off.

It took a bit of time for her to make her way through the thick grove, and on the way, the local variety of bloodsucking hostile native live came after her.

She was have tempted to turn her Lewiston model ray gun on the benighted critters when she stumbled out and into a large clearing.

She noted several things about it: there was an old beaten pathway, wide enough for carts and cars to travel on. There were the rusted remains of several tools and the rotten frame of a cart nearby.

There was a very, very, very large tarp, covering a large stretch of the ground.

And there was a man tending to the fire, throwing a fresh set of fuel onto it. He was wearing pilot gear: goggles, jacket, pilot cap, and an emergency respirator stashed on one side, with piece holster on his other.

He stood up as she revealed herself, hand falling to his iron.

She stood still, mirroring his actions.

They stared at each other like wolves: not spoiling for a fight, but utterly prepared to to spill blood if it had to be done.

“Clear skies.” The man said quietly, moving his hands away from his belts and holding them up.

Mary Raven's eyes narrowed for a moment.

“Hot jets.” She replied, and relaxed.

“Please come on over.” The man replied, motioning her over. “The skeeters in this neck of the woods are downright lethal, and I think they can bite right through spacer leather. Smoke drives them off just fine, though.”

Mary Raven restrained the urge to sigh in lugubrious relief, and sat on the nearest log bench, getting a closer look at the fellow. Scruffy, strong jawed, and good looking, with a piercing intelligent gaze figuring out the world around him.

So either a good, keen-eyed man like daddy...or an arrogant jerk.

“Thank you for coming, Ms. Raven, and thank you for trusting me to have something worth saying.”

“It was a bit of a leap of faith.” Raven replied. “I still can stand and walk right out if I think you're toying with me, Mr...”

“Yeager. Jack Yeager.” The man replied. “Aerospace engineer. Been an independent contractor for a few years: more recently, I was an ex-member of Project Vanguard.”

“Project Vanguard.” Raven repeated, a heft amount of disgust in her tone.

Yeager held up a hand. “Emphasis on Ex-Member. Walked out rather quickly.”

“Launching tennis balls into space not cutting it for you?” Raven drawled.

“Don't knock satellites, Raven.” Yeager said quietly, but very firmly. “They're valuable to all sorts of scientific discoveries. One day they'll be able to go places and do things that we can't...but you're right: yet another crashlanding of another beeping tin ball just wasn't cutting it...”

He shrugged and off-handedly added:

“...but that's how it is these days. It's not a good time to be a space traveler.”

Raven snorted.

“There's no need to be coy, 'Mr. Yeager'. It's a goddamn ****ty time to be a space traveler. After we saved the Earth a thousand times, fought off the second Martian invasion, stopped Ming and the Radar Men and Goddamned Kharg the Killer...the government and big business decided to **** us right up the ass!”

She raised her index and middle fingers and crooked them.

“ 'It's not safe to have crazy backwoods scientists building spaceships in their backyards with scrap metal and animal hair!'...so they're making our livelihoods illegal...they took the Teatime from me, and handed it off to the World Steel Corporation to break it down for scrap.' “

She looked up at the sky, blinking. “You said in your telegram that 'The World has Gone Wrong' and that the future's been bent out of shape...Amen to that. I'm 26 years old. I've been to Mars, and Venus, and the moons of Saturn. I met strange creatures and civilizations, and watched them dwindling and dying. I've slept with asteroid gypsies, broken sloats to the saddle, fought with the eighth insurgency on Forest.”

With a sudden burst of rage, she kicked at the fire with a boot-clad foot, sending sparks flying.

“I shot a man on Kahrgu because he needed to die more than any I've ever met. I repaired three rocket tubes with a wrench and a knife while hanging upside down over Titan during the syzygy. I'm 26 years old and my life is over now.”

She turned and regarded Jack Yeager with narrowed eyes. “So direct me please to the men who did this to me and my friends, and bum me some fresh power-packs to blast them to bits, for I have business to attend to before I lay down in my grave. Unless you sent that cryptic telegram to me just so we could form an oldsters club and bitch about the times.”

Jack Yeager smiled faintly, and held out a gloved hand. “Congratulations. Welcome to the club.”

Mary Raven regarded the grizzled aerospace engineer.

Then she laughed and clasped hands with him.

“But seriously, you better have a good reason for dragging me out to this arse-end of the countryside.” She added.

Yeager nodded. “There's a group I'm part of. Like-minded individuals who are mighty sore about having their wings taken away. We're trying to do something about it: asking questions, gathering resources, operating under the radar.”

He turned around, and walked over to the section of ground covered by a huge canvas tarp. “And we've connected the dots on a few things. Secret events, players moving in the shadows. It all adds up to something nasty. But I could have told you about all of that elsewhere. We're here so I can show you something. Something that'll show you just how long this grand tale has been going on.”

He leaned down, pulled at the strings keeping the tarp in place, and then tried to pull the entire thing off.

Due to the size of the tarp, it actually wound up falling down into the gigantic, echoing hole in the ground, ten feet in diameter, and completely lined with an unbroken mold of thick cast iron.

As Mary Raven gazed into the echoing pits, she noticed scores of rust trails running down the surface of the cavern like vines, the pitted rough nature of the molded metal, and some very impressive char marks around the inner circumference of the iron-wrapped hole.

“What is this?” She asked breathlessly.

“This...is the Columbiad.” Jack Yeager intoned, his voice taking on the characteristics of a sonorous priest. He brought out a leatherbound journal from the interior of his jacket, a cracked, scorched thing with the gilded name 'I. Barbicane' on it. “The world's largest cannon, constructed in the Year of Our Lord 1866 by the Americian Gun Club.

This...is the sight of the first moon shot.”

[Terry576]

You know... if Grindelwald is a founding family, I could probably con it in using Wand Succession and how Harry has the Elder Wand.

Grindelwald to Dumbledore to Draco to Harry.

[Corvond]

That was my intention, yes.

[Terry576]

Oh.

...

Well, thank you then! I wasn't even thinking, I just wanted to be Harry~

[Draxx]

Welding the canon together is a big part of the fun, I find.

[Draxx]

Excellent Colesign. Feels like Planetary more then anything, but it's really quite enjoyable to read, and makes me want to know more. No points of contrition as of yet, you'll be happy to know, except that Nazi doctors were more occult then technical in this continuity.

Anyway, here's the revised chapter 3. Takes place in the early seventies. No more noir, now we deal in Spy drama.

Spoiler

Show

"Amazing, this example of international co-operation. You almost give me hope for the future." He siad kn a voice that was hoarse and soft. The man who spoke was small, sleek, and in his hands and arms was a capable wiry strength.

"CONTROL's had it's eye on you for quite some time now." Maxwell Smart, agent 86, is CONTROL's top spy, or at least that's what he would tell you. His origins, however, are shrouded in mystery. As a spy, much of his personal information must be considered classified, which is why there's so little of it.

"And yet you've been impotent to stop me, too caught up in the bureaucratic jumble of red tape and confused jurisdictions. Someone like me... well, what can you do about someone like me?" He closed his eyes, and there was something like shame in his voice. "It took a frenchman where all of you failed. Though how Chief Inspector Jacques Clouseau managed to link me to a parrot stolen in Naples, I shall never know."

It had shocked him to be arrested, but far more for a crime he was, in point of fact, completely innocent of. Of course, once they had him other things had come to light, and he'd been whisked away and placed into the custody of the secret service. "So what now? You have no useful evidence, so the standard proceedings will be of no use. Might I assume that you intend indefinite imprisonment without a trial?"

"You'd like to think that, wouldn't you? Even now we've rounded up all your accomplices, and got confessions from all of them. Would you believe it? All of them."
"I find that very difficult to believe."
"Would you believe most of them?" Hannibal quietly shook his head. "Bad character witness from your secretary?"
"Enough." Hannibal said, staring Max in the eyes and maintaing his regal composure. "Unless I tell you what I know, you intend to keep me here indefinitely. Correct?"
"And who do you know?" James Bond, who had remained at the back of the room, silent. His voice was suave, deep and resonant, with just a hint of a welsh brogue that made him stretch his 's' sounds. He was extremely good-looking, but there was something a bit cruel in the mouth, and the eyes were cold. Cupping his hand, he lights a cigarette and blows out a cloud of smoke.

"Almost everything you know is wrong, but frightfully well carried out." Hannibal replied. "Fortunately,most of your contemporaries are so incompetent they'd have the gravest difficulty in finding out that today is Wednesday."

"It's actually thursday." Max contributed.
"Really? Four days in solitary confinement already." Hannibal said, the revelation not effecting him in the slightest. "Now stop wasting time and get to the point of this little tête-à-tête."
Doctor John Wickham Gascoyne Beresford Steed shook his head, frustrated with the madman's pretensions. He'd taken off his habitual bowler hat, but retained his habitual umbrella and jacket. "You know what we want."

"Indubitably." Lecter replied, rolling his eyes. "While the mind is not your forte, doctor, you nonetheless feel an urge to classify me. My workings are a mystery you find yourself driven to get to the bottom of. A human being gone wrong. You need to quantify me, and reduce me to nothing but another subject. Then you can stand to live with yourself, and the rest of your contemptible ideas about our species. Well sorry to disappoint you, but I'm rather more complex then you're willing to accept, at least until you stop being so contemptuous as to try and reduce me to a series of influences."

"I might want to help you, but those we work for have no such intention. We are here to squeeze you before we put you in the ground. A quiet but most satisfying execution. A dozen dead that we know about, even if we cannot connect you to there disappearances. Probably many times that in total, since you're so clever and methodical. And so many maniacs loosed back on the street it beggars belief."

"You are well informed." Hannibal replied, turning back to Agent 86. "Yes, Arkham Asylum was a project of mine. And I have to admit it was entirely too successful, I expected another few years before I was brought for a conversation like this. Nonetheless, my work in Gotham was satisfying, and I daresay it is now beyond redemption, to borrow a phrase. Whether I continue to perpetuate it or not."
He paused. "Where am I, by the way?"
"Control Headquarters' location is top secret."
And how can a seven storey building in the middle of Gotham, with an add in the yellow pages, be any sort of secret?"
"Where there's a will, there's a way"
Mrs Emma Peel (née Knight) accepted a smoke from Bond (who was not so concerned that he was missing the opportunity to conduct a silent flirtation) and stared at him. "And I suppose you think you're safe."

"Hardly. Yes, I have committed what you classify as crimes. But that's not why we're here. The Secret Service, particularly the British Secret Service, couldn't care less about a the encouragement of the criminal element in a city, even if it does force them to declare martial law. No, It's not what I did but who I know, and you'll do anything for that."

"And who do you know."

"A list of names. What you are looking for is better connected then you'd believe, and some of them have been in But the one that really interests you, of course, is Ernst Stavro Blofeld. I believe that is what led you to me."

"So you are going to talk?"

"No. I'm going to sit back, and you're going to resort to brutality to try and force me to speak. It's more entertaining this way. I recommend water-boarding. I've seen it done, it's quite effective." He replied. "But what I really enjoy is the fear that so motivates you. SPECTRE has stolen nuclear missiles from your country. The possibility of a man-made apocalypse looms, and that terrifies you. So here you are, preparing to resort to brutality. As a student of human nature, I'm very interested in how far this desperation will take you."

"What do you want, Lecter?" Bond asked, walking slowly across the room. "Deals are more civilized. You'd hardly be the first, or even the worst. So what, in the whole world, do you want?"

Lecter looked him in the eyes, and he smiled, exposing his small, sharp teeth. "Access to the library would be nice." He said, then laughed. "What do you have to interest me but yourselves? If your government is held hostage, and if they don't pay, the world will burn. If they do, the threat will hang over their heads, and it will happen eventually anyway. I'm your only way forward. And now, I want to see what all of you do to keep from burning." He replied. "I can think of nothing more entertaining."

I wanted to include Austin Danger Powers, but I figured there was enough confusion already.

[darkblade]

I personally dislike the idea that WWII was as clean cut Magic vs Science.

For one it creates an atmosphere where magic is overall more evil than science since it was the Nazi's weapon. Second it rules out a lot of good stories from having any place in Shatterworld.

Like say while in Egypt searching for the Ark of the Covenant the Nazi's briefly seized the Giza Stargate and used it to form an alliance with the Chitauri. Returning through the Stargate they were stopped before spreading their campaign too far by Indian Jones using the Book of Amun-Ra to awaken Imhotep who buries the invading army in the desert.

[Draxx]

You make an extremely good point.

[doliest]

Now posting from my new dorm room in San Antonio! Finally all moved in

And all too ready to get back into the thick of things. Also, with Six Seasons of Buffy in me, and god do I take back EVERYTHING bad I ever said about Joss Whedon. He gets a pass from me for everything, thanks to this show.

[Cracklord]

Hey there, Doliest man. Good to have you back.

Darkblade? Remember that the fey are formerly at war with all humanity over the death of Santa Claus (it makes sense in context).

[darkblade]

I'm aware of the Fae war. The Lady of the Lake has been cut off by the Shadowhunters, she hasn't heard from any of her kind in a very long time.

[darkblade]

So here we come to my biggest problems with two separate magic systems.

First off, the Rune system from Mortal Instruments. In your young adult fantasy series trying to be the next Harry Potter you are going to make your protagonists cut themselves to be able to use their powers. What sane editor let this pass? How did the parent groups that got up in arms about Harry Potter miss this? Here is a series for teenagers dealing directly with angels and demons with an incestuous love triangle (that had a horrible cop out in the end) and magic done through cutting yourself. I'm just waiting for the PR trainwreck that is going to hit when the first movie comes out next year (not to mention the fact that it's got as case for ripping off a Japanese series as Hunger Games but that's for another rant).

Second, Wizards of Waverly Place and it's one wizard per family rule. This was the whole hook of the series that they dragged out for four years. That one of the three main characters would be the only one to keep their magic. Naturally it ended with a Disney ending so both characters who need magic for happy endings get to keep it. This wouldn't be so bad if they ever gave a reason why it had to be this way but they do not. That just is the way it apparently always has been and always shall be (unless you happen to be main characters who need magic in your lives). So I took my opportunity to give it justification. Brittannian Mages are *****, just like Brittannian mortals.

[Corvond]

There's something about that in Type/Moon as well. Crests, or something, that gets willed to their kids and determines how much magic they get.

[Terry576]

This is where I shine.

Mortal Instruments series is the easiest - make them Warlocks of Dresden. Blood magic, demons and fallen angels, they easily fit into bad Dresden. Wizards of Waverly can just be an offshoot of HP that evolved differently; hell, maybe they're just all naturally talented at Arithmancy. The spells they cast are formed on the spot, whereas HP has a more solidified set.

And, to top it all off, everyone has those Circuits from Type-Moon, just unactivated, or maybe semi-active depending on the system. The circuits are just a way to channel magic, like a wand or whatever. All mages can have them inactive (apart from T/M, of course), and there's always a possibility to activate them.

A low, low possibility, but its there.

(I AM THE BEST AT SYSTEMS)

[Cracklord]

...Shame we didn't have you for the fantasy lynching. The unified magic theory gave me more trouble then you can possibly imagine.

[Terry576]

Thanks!

I just think about this stuff for fun because I am strange like that

[Cracklord]

Me, I'm all about continuity. How the stories can all mesh together into one, how character can know each other, how timelines can complement each other. Which makes me fairly good at history, actually.

[darkblade]

That doesn't really work for Mortal Instruments. Their powers despite their grisly application is explicitly Holy in nature. They were chosen by the Archangel to be humanity's protectors from Demons. I suppose in theory they could just be using similar magic on the Holy side.

I don't have a problem with the only one mage per family rule on it's own. Variations of the concept date back to the whole seventh son of a seventh son myths. What bothers me about it's use in Wizards is that we are never given a reason as to why it has to be like this. It's just accepted that wizard kids will have to Highlander the magic out of each other one day.

[Terry576]

Could do something like Waverly Wizards are lesser, and they require more magic to fully utilize there abilities.

[Terry576]

...Kid, you do realize Harry is the Master of Death? Elder Wand, Resurrection Stone, and Invisibility Cloak. He's not bluffing, and I'm not breaching boundaries by reading Kidd's mind - it's just that Harry is the Master of Death. It's in the books, hell its a main plot point.

Seriously, I've been subtly trying to indicate that Kidd should go do some other stuff, and I don't know what else to do. You've blown off every attempt I've made to tell Kidd to go away, hints and warnings both subtle and blatant.

What do you want me to do. Even if you're leaving, it's kind of frustrating to try to establish basic things like, oh, I dunno magic is part of your soul, and is the essence of life itself, and you just keep blocking me. It's like playing a game of catch where the other person takes the ball and runs a mile away, and won't throw it back till you catch them.

[AnimeKid]

I'm sorry but that is kind of weak. I mean I know what the book means, but I don't think it means that literally. I mean why would Death just hand out items that when combined makes it easily overpowered by a mere mortal. The Elder wand lets him win any duel yes, but the resurrection stone only brings back an echo. It doesn't really restore life. The invisibility cloak hides you from death but you can't keep a cloak on forever.

I'm mean giving one person the power to control death? Seems a little far fetched don't you think, especially since we know Death The Endless is far from stupid. Most people will point you to our games trail of Dracula with Death as his lawyer as proof of that.

[AnimeKid]

Plus even Dumbledore states that he does not believe that the brothers got the objects from Death. He thinks that it is far more likely that they were gifted wizards who created very powerful objects long ago.

Coming from the man who has literally been reasearching them and searching for them his whole life I'm a bit more inclined to believe him than Harry.

Besides if that were true then Dumbledore was a was a master of death as well, though he did not possess all of the artefacts at the same time.

The same was true of Harry in the books.

[Terry576]

Personally, I like to think a little higher than 'oh powerful artifacts', especially in a world where Death is personified, as are many other things. Master of Death is going to be the Master of Goddamned Death, with all the terrifying bits and pieces of badness that Harry's been mentioning in his speeches so far. Accepting Death and moving on? Pff, that's no fun; the Master of Death is clearly the Master of Death.

Also I do not remember Harry being a master of fire in the books, nor was he slightly mad, nor did he use two wands at once, nor did he defeat Voldemort at fifteen.

Also, you ignored the part where you blocked every single time I attempted to start the combination of all the different magic systems, and we've got like five or six now.

[AnimeKid]

Except that accepting Death and moving is the exact thing that is needed in order for one to become a Master of Death. It's even stated in the wiki you linked.

[Terry576]

Yes, but here we're working a bunch of stuff off the soul; so hell let's go big or go home. Master of Death leaves an imprint on your soul, and the longer you carry the artifacts the deeper that mark goes. You are the Master of Death, completely and fully. There's something like that in half the other things we're using, I'm just upping the use of the title because, dude, it's a pretty awesome title.

Also, why I keep bringing up Souls: T-M's wiki states "Memories and Magic Circuits aren't stored in the body, but in the soul.", Dresden Files has "Magic coloring your soul", and Harry Potter says "Black Magic tarnishes the soul", Raven's powers work off her soul if I recall, Mortal Instruments has demons and angels and its magic works off the blessing of the archangel; ergo SOULS.

By saying that magic does not have to do with the soul, it's pretty damn hard to fix. Even the whole 'stealing magic' thing is a major deal that you're just brushing off, because if magic is your soul, then Alex just stole part of Shirou's soul (which she did, Magic Circuits do not work the way you think they do, they can be wrecked for several days, yes, but they do not just regenerate) and soul magic is considered in Harry Potter "magic of the darkest kind", as most of it revolves around utilizing Horcruxes.

[AnimeKid]

That is what Kidd has been saying. She didn't steal his magic. At best she dispelled it. If you recall Kidd said that magic did have to do with the soul. It is the same in Soul Eater with witches souls. Plus with the way Darkblade has worded it (Who has DM fiat for the most part). Shirou would get his magic back. If she really had stolen it then Shirou would not be getting that magic back. Plus it was your own character Touma that got rid of Shirou's magic.

[Terry576]

Touma dispelled Shirou's magic. That's what he does. Eventually I'll go over the thing and figure out how the hell Alex picked it up (I think it was something to do with Touma housing an Outsider in his arm or whatever), but for now I am tired and going to bed.

[AnimeKid]

Kay, night dude.

[darkblade]

Let's put this to bed.

Magic does indeed come from the soul, or more accurately the electromagnetic field that encompasses every individual human (the AT or Intrinsic field). When active magic is used it is that field drawing from a mana source (be it the environment's natural mana or mana stored within a focus) to create the desired effect. There is some feedback whenever magic is used, most of the time this is harmless but powerful or repeated uses of dark magic will eventually damage the soul.

I have not watched Toaru Majutsu no Index so I am uncertain how Touma's powers work in canon. I have personally been seeing it as a powerful entity that feeds on mana (probably an Outsider) possessing his hand. He does not take power away from the soul. To use an analogy he is siphoning gas, not ripping out the gas tank.

[AnimeKid]

Cool. Also Darkblade what would be your ruling on the whole Master of Death thing? Casuse personally I can't see how those three objects would allow harry ultimate control over Death. Heck I really can't see Death being that stupid. I also can't see Thanos allowing objects like that to exist considering they would control his love. Or at least he wouldn't allow Harry to hold them considering how possessive he is.