The Void. An interesting and creative solution to a classic dilemma of transporting entities between planes of existence. While the gods are often little more than the janitors of their respective universe, The Makers, whoever they are, certainly have inescapable patterns in their design philosophy that matured with experience at crafting new universes. The rules of physics, magic, and reality itself are not constant from one universe to another, but rules still need to exist. And in that system of rules, of improving one’s craft and techniques over time, new and novel solutions are found.
The Void is not an Abyss, which, for Sanagba Imuru, He-Who-Saw-The-Abyss, is a distinction with noticeable difference. But this universe, lacking an Abyss, has no better substitute than The Void. Perhaps that tidbit is some grand cosmic joke at his expense, that an expert on variations of The Abyss would be forced into a universe that lacked one. However, Sanagba Imuru, He-Who-Saw-The-Abyss, still found the experience fascinating, for a veritable goldmine of learning opportunities still awaited him. This particular Void appeared to him as the be-all end-all solution to shuffling things around in a way that gets past the pesky limitations of time.
For a casual observer and user of The Void, time seems to flow, at least to some extent, even if it is not in tandem with what many would refer to as the Material Plane where most mortals reside. However, for a demigod, and indeed one of his mastery of such esoteric disciplines, The Void also serves as a record, one through which Sanagba Imuru, He-Who-Saw-The-Abyss, had been studiously combing through, all to better understand how to go about his task.
All of this was a new task for him, for he had never heard of a demigod failing to complete apotheosis, especially since that would “cause disastrous ramifications in the inter-universal temporal flow”, as some experts would say. However, while the outcome may be preordained, that task still fell to him to judge and to guide, and such an undertaking was one he would conduct with fairness and diligence.
The Void also shows an echo of the future, much like how one can observe the passing of people on the street only by watching their shadows cast upon the wall. While no direct knowledge of the happenings on the Material Plane would be evident, an examination of what people show up here and in what order would eventually weave a tapestry that spoke to the nature of the general flow of events.
And it is those events that could use a little push, a bit of spice for flavor, a nudge that could turn a dreary history lecture into an epic tale of heroic deeds and rises to fame and power, along with a smattering of tragic losses and noble sacrifices. Having sufficiently examined the state of affairs and with a firm destination in mind, Sanagba Imuru, He-Who-Saw-The-Abyss, started to pull strings and whisper in the ears of mortals and gods alike to set events into motion.
Grinds-The-Powder found himself dismayed, surprised, and somehow satisfied with his current task bearing fruit, even if said fruit was lethal poison. Having served faithfully to the greatest practitioner of Alchemy of his age, none other than the esteemed and mighty Emperor Karlenstein of the Blood Keepers, had been a privilege and an honor. Such had been his absolute delight and ambition since he first stepped foot into the hidden sanctum of his master. In many ways, his entire life and training had led to this moment, for he had focused on an unusual set of disciplines that are useful for theoretical studies but forbidden in practice.
Most people think Alchemy is just weaving together the innate magical properties of rare and mana-infused materials, but such is rarely the case. A skilled [Alchemist] starts with a firm understanding of mathematics, physics, and chemistry, and requires the mastery of manipulating the physical attributes of materials in the laboratory before moving on to the magical. Such had been the teachings of Karlenstein, and wise teachings they are to this day. Few amongst mortals could boast much skill in the sciences, not that Grinds-The-Powder has had opportunity to boast, for his master required discretion. However, the number of peers that Grinds-The-Powder could call equal could be counted on the remaining fingers of those less skilled at mixing volatile chemicals.
With his advanced understanding of science and magic as they relate to materials and their applications, few would be his equal. And so, it did not escape his notice, nor the range of his Skills when he detected substances both dreadful and dangerous as they passed through the portal. Pitchblende is a substance that most miners find to be an unfortunate discovery, for it has a density and composition that gives a false positive to prospectors looking for valuable metals. Some have used it as an additive in making yellow glass, and those of a curious mindset that seek to delve further into its uses are quietly snuffed out in the middle of the night lest the world face another Sundering.
Pitchblende by itself is not dangerous, but when purified, can produce large amounts of uranium. Uranium, by itself, while deadly to be physically near, is not easily weaponized, with the emphasis on “easily”. Through enrichment processes, different strains of it can be separated from one another, and one of these strains or “isotopes” is noteworthy for being exceptionally dangerous. By itself, this enriched uranium raises huge concerns that warrant it immediately being passed along to Karlenstein. However, the detection of a certain isotope of plutonium with the enriched uranium calls for an immediate interruption of the war council, for a handful of seconds spent on ceremony could stand between victory and defeat.
With his choice all but made for him, Grinds-The-Powder consumed a potion that enabled him to engage in immediate telepathic communication with his master, with the hope that it would be quick enough to matter.
Unfortunately, a few hours of rest was too much to ask, although I did get over an hour, so it was not the end of the world. Probably. Hopefully. One second we are discussing how to reposition troops and resources, and the next, Karlenstein and every dragon of their flight took off instantly for the portal. In their draconic forms, they discarded all pretense of withholding their trump cards as they erected powerful shields and wards of magic and blood around the portal. Emperor Ejnarri was only a moment behind with their flight, as while I could tell they were likewise doing something on a grand scale, I could not immediately tell what it was.
That left the rest of us like hermit crabs queuing up for an exchange of shells, for we had to cover the tasks and responsibilities of one another until whatever crisis that was undoubtedly unfolding resolved itself. From my vantage point and left of center of the portal, I witness a powerful explosion, the brightness and force of it interposed by the magical defenses manifested by The Blood Keepers.
My head pounded as a surge of memories flooded me, visions of world after world that had discovered the means to split the atom with cataclysmic results. I knew then, in that moment, exactly what was happening, and the horror that had barely been contained. As memories of nations being wiped out in an afternoon intermixed with the sight of men and women knocked to their feet as a shockwave pushed us backwards and shook the very foundation of World’s Hope, I knew that such an attack would almost certainly spell our defeat if it were to be unleashed without mitigation.
But, as a large mushroom cloud soon found itself contained in a shield of blood that still held true, a strange sight replaced the earlier explosion. As if time had reversed, the cloud shrunk back in on itself, and in the process, the fiery explosions coalesced into a miniature star suspended in the air. It lingered for a moment, and then as if shoved unceremoniously, it was hurled into the other side of the portal. A second and much smaller explosion followed, or at least, the effects of it were minimal as they had to pass through the portal.
Surprisingly, that little maneuver bought us some breathing room, for the unending tide of monstrosities streaming forth from the portal halted for a while. Who knew that our enemies would experience such delays when faced with a nuclear bomb? However, the forces that remained to fight us were still mighty and troublesome, and so cleaning them up before the next wave came at us would give us a chance to adjust our defenses while not actively being attacked, which would be a welcome reprieve.
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Now forced to take the field, the Kings that had been held in reserve took their positions. My own Kings were not even as strong as experienced Dukes, and so they would remain on the high road to snag whatever scraps of Experience Points they could in relative safety. That left yours truly as the representative for the Crossroad Wayfinders to pull the weight of my flight. Similarly, Bylo’selhi found himself in a similar situation, for his own flight was not much older than mine and lacked enough practical combat experience to truly be comfortable shouldering the fate of the world. As such, we were given the same quadrant to defend, notably, the one in front of the command center. To save face, another Emperor suggested that it was too important a location to be guarded by a single flight or mere Kings, but everyone knew that our position was closest to our remaining reinforcements and that we would probably need them.
Everyone else was mopping up the enemy stragglers, repairing defensives, switching out tired and wounded defenders with fresh troops, cleaning up the dead and dying, and generally preparing for a second wave. A quick cycle through feelings and thoughts that connected me to my companions showed that they were all alright. A few kobolds carried my orders to reposition some of my own family. Nanu was to protect and shepherd my two children, Tamadora and Kaisadoro, and Hopper and Ribbette were to reposition with the Boys to put them safely behind the 9-headed hydra closest to me. I recalled Jeriko to me, or at least all of her copies that had taken the field, as naturally she left spares in secure locations. The rest of my companions or aspirants to that claim were sequestered away as well in either the command center or their assigned locations.
I noticed a large number of kobolds forming up in my area of responsibility, and not just ones from my flight. I hardly have the authority or bandwidth to deal with them, and I also find one of my [Parallel Minds] wondering about the implications of why I know the word “bandwidth”. Such distractions are suppressed as best as I am able, for my focus is on preparing my own defenses. I cover the ground in magical traps since I don’t have much else in terms of combat potential over huge areas.
Bylo’selhi has 3 Kings with him, and they certainly appear to be less than completely confident as their tails swish back and forth in the middle of their length. Unfortunately, I do not know their combat capabilities or that of their Emperor, since such information is a bit of a trade secret. I know that I have about three quarters of my mana available to me, and with Jericho having strict orders to fight conservatively so as to not drain me dry, I feel much better about my odds of lasting a while. Besides, I may or may not have rigged up a special bit of enchanting on World’s Hope to help recycle spent mana and push it into some batteries that I am drawing upon constantly. It isn’t super efficient, but with the sheer amount of spent mana, it doesn’t really need to be.
Bylo’selhi and I quickly work out a strategy where the two of us offer support for his three Kings. Well, technically two are Queens, but such gendered terms are interchangeable unless you are interested in bedding someone. All of us are in our draconic forms, and I find myself feeling a little basic. Their names may as well be Sapphire, Ruby, and Jade, because their scales glitter with the same respective hues as if they were actually made of such precious gems. Bylo’selhi is mostly lustrous silver, with red and blue gems forming interesting and slowly shifting patterns on his ventral scales. In short, they are shiny and radiant, whereas my shiny metallic yellow scales with black borders are perhaps a little less eye-catching. I make a note to consider making my ventral scales black with yellow borders just to give it some spice. Also, with me being the youngest one here, I am noticeably smaller, and if being generous, I am half the size of Bylo’selhi.
There being no time for further fashion, the portal shudders and ripples as behemoths pass through. Each one stands at least 200 feet tall, with some being over 500. Bipedal, and in relationship to our enemies so far, far closer to humanoid than most, they each brandish their own custom weapons. They are naked, but without sexual characteristics or any semblance of humanity, each one appearing withered and malnourished. They are far taller than us dragons that walk as quadrupeds, such that we are mere small mutts biting at their heels. Best then that we trip them before they get to the high road or we will be in dire straits.
I suppose I expected large beings to be slow and lumbering, but proportional to a human of their size, they advanced at a dead sprint while all too huge jaws opened to showcase inhuman maws that bellowed deep war cries. I felt something sliding off me, like grotesque sludge dripping down my scales, and though I was not affected by their shouts, I could feel the depravity of their mana being bettered by my own. It felt disgusting, akin to desecration that can plague forgotten and defiled shrines.
The Kings fared worse, for they trembled in fear. They did not flee in panic, but they cowered slightly as their bodies lowered closer to the ground. Such a sight built up a raging pit of anger within me, one not of my own making. With fury and hatred, Skull all but begged for release.
“Master, send me at them, these defilers that seek to devour our world and desecrate our virtue. Our bravest falter before them, and I cannot, I will not allow our lines to fall.”
Okay, Skull was actually begging for release, and through our bond, I felt a divine push, for Gulthar detected the empowerment of a foreign deity of Fear, and being a god of the same portfolio, absolutely refused to tolerate such a trespass into this world. Empowered by her patron deity with a surge of His divine power, I found myself empowered by proxy. Even by association, such proximity offered the invitation of intoxication and addiction, and somehow, a strange familiarity, as if divinity were my birthright. Clearly not a red flag, I ignored that tidbit of information to focus on the fight.
Four of the behemoths approached. One wielded a scepter and a thurible that spewed foul darkness that corrupted and rotted everything it touched. If that one isn’t a caster, I will eat my hat. Another bore a shield of sorts, one that seemed to be made of the fused flesh of the damned that wailed in anguish. It held a mighty spear with an absurdly large and pointy tip that went almost a third of the way down the shaft that dripped some equally foul ichor, and I found myself certain that I would not want to risk impalement by this warrior. A third wielded a ribbon in each hand, the kind that dancers twirl with, so I knew it would do some weird shit that needed to be shut down fast. The fourth wielded a massive bow, one as tall as its body, and that one stopped short along with the caster to start taking aim.
“Skull, wreak vengeance on that archer. Clip the string of his bow and tear him asunder!”
My command obeyed in all but deed, Skull slipped from my shadow as an Avatar of Fear clawed its way up from the ground to encase her in shadows and nightmares. Reality flickered in her wake, and with a mighty leap, she crossed the distance to our foes. As she passed Warrior, she swung her zweih?nder to sever its leg from its foot. With mixed success, she did impact it, but failed to fully sever it. However, shadows seeped into the wound, and where it spread, the leg trembled.
Like a hungry wolf pouncing its prey, she swarmed Archer, severing its bowstring and laying into its exposed and desiccated flesh. In a matter of moments, the headless aberration toppled over, but the victory was short-lived. A fleshy arm grew out of the bodies of the other three to point at their fallen comrade, and the corpse of it shook and writhed until bursting, with a new Archer springing up fully formed and ready to fire.
And fire it did. A massive arrow of sun-bleached bone and dried sinew came at us head-on, but Bylo’selhi was ready to intercept. With a great breath, he exhaled a shower of silver coins that clittered and clattered in that oh-so-soothing way that coins topple in my hoard. Where a coin hit the arrow, a chunk of it broke off in the same size as the coin, and unless my eyes deceived me, said chunk also turned into a silver coin. Ergo, before the arrow reached us, it had basically disintegrated, the remainder of it no longer cohesive enough to impact us with any force. Not that Bylo’selhi risked that, for what scraps remained were quickly surrounded in a shield and burned to ash with more conventional fire from his breath attack.
Now, the rest of us were not sitting idle this whole time. Caster and Dancer were up to something, and I found myself keen to disrupt them. Warrior planted himself as best as he could with his wounded leg and menacingly intercepted the approach of the Kings. Interestingly enough, the extra arm that each of them sported continued to point at the new Archer, so perhaps there was some tricky stuff going on there that we could fiddle with.
Clearly, these would be worthy opponents, but the question would be found in how they were worthy. Archer died too easily, but came back to life just as quickly. Would they all need to be slain at the same time, or would we need to do something about the extra arms that point at one another? Would they get stronger or weaker with each resurrection, and, by extension, should we avoid killing them or kill them until they don’t get back up again? These creatures are as alien as they are foul, and with no knowledge of their Abilities, we found ourselves at a disadvantage, which was compounded by my unfamiliarity with the Abilities of my own allies.
I could feel the mana around my allies though, for each of them was cooking up some sort of counter, but the same could be said of our foes. Life and death hung in the balance as we vied for dominance to see which side was worthy of victory.
