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Those Who Watch For Aeons: Reboot | Multiverse RP

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Those Who Watch For Aeons


(OoC/Discord: Here)











How many aeons... was it? But now...


They... the gods... named Aetherials... they who created the multiverse...


They are awake...


Yes... now... the end... or a new dawn? It's up to you now. You.


But remember this - you are going up against something far aeons old.


Far aeons angry.


After all...


Those who watch for aeons are forever angry.


Those who watch for aeons are those you should fear for aeons.


Those who watch for aeons are arising once more, coming to end it all.


Those who watch for aeons are not easily sealed.





And to seal them...


Heh heh heh...






It's all anyone can do...


To stave off aeons of devastation...


The death of this world...


Come now, why do you stand there? It's your turn. The ancients sealed them aeons before. And it's on you now. To stop them.




Long ago, the Multiverse was young, created by gods named Aetherials, and given aeons of life.

Long ago, the Aetherials watched over their creations, and they? They were the primal incarnates of the multiverse. They were - they are - those forces embodied by aeons of time. But power as theirs... comes with a cost. They were corrupted, and they were sealed.


Oh! But those aeons of imprisonment angered the betrayed gods. They had aeons to sleep...

and aeons to kindle their ire. Aeons to wait and watch. Aeons to plan eternal destruction.


The seal the ancients charmed into existence, and powered with aeons-old runes, is fast fraying.


It is breaking. Shattering. The Aetherials are free once more...


And you are one of the many denizens of the Multiverse. A rampaging Aetherial, tearing holes in reality, has left you in a timeless, ancient location. It hums... with aeons of an Aetherial's fury.


So now you have one task. Seal the Aetherials, seal them again. You can't destroy them, as much as that would stop their wrath. It would destroy that element. And they are far too powerful to go gently into that good night - no, you must seal them for aeons, as the ancients did, travelling across the Multiverse to find them. And along the way, you'll have to gain the aid of what the ancients left, of the power in the Multiverse, and the power you have. You'll have to defeat the eldest gods, become monsters after aeons.


And if you do not?


The price is aeons of devastation, as the Aetherials rampage unchecked, shattering and destroying their very elements.


Indeed, the stakes are high...




-All DC and Freeform RPs rules apply

-No powerplays, please

-Keep it PG-13

-Subtle romance, only. No overt, Twilight-style romances. One thing to remember, we're all busy trying to defeat mad Aetherials here.

-Please use good grammar - it's frustrating for others to read through a mess. On that note, no chatspeak or 1337speak either, as it can be hard to read.

-No Mary Sues, by the Aetherials. I know I can accept powerful characters due to what you're fighting, but I also know there is such a thing as too much power, or too much adoration.

-Please post at least 4 sentences per post.

-Please do not use a text colour including bold - I'd like to reserve bolded colours for Aetherials.

-Do not start till I say we can.

-Post forms in the Discord, please and thank you.

-No more than 3 characters allowed per RPer.


Inactivity: RPs can get held up by inactive posters all too easily. To prevent this, if you do not alert the GM (DuskOfTheStars) that you will be away, and fail to post in IC or OoC within 7 days of your last post, you character is open to NPC. Failure to post within 28 days will result in a mod kill or usage as Aetherial pawns to your characters.


While real life comes first, please tell me if possible. Don't be afraid to drop, either. If you tell me you will be on hiatus, your characters will be ignored or NPCed with your permission.

Edited by DuskOfTheStars

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So long.



So long.





So many aeons.





Those who betrayed.




Those who lied.



For aeons beyond counting... they would pay. Pay for their sins eternity over. Reality would crumble. And it would take eternal joy in the destruction.


It was aeons old. Aeons betrayed. It was Reality Itself, alive after aeons of imprisonment. Of watching. Of imprisonment, of waiting. Waiting to rise up once more, to rend and destroy.


It had no mouth, but it howled out a curse.


"I am Reality, come to rend eternity. I am that which binds and connects, and reigns in eternity! As I bind... so I unbind."


It raised its colourless taloned claws. Eldritch eyes glowed. A thin, bony body with an exoskeleton, near transparent save for eldritch filaments of blue-grey light, twitched. A pressing, suffocatingly powerful aura, forged of something timeless and immortal.


All around it, reality seemed to warp, to bend, to become almost.... Unreal. Shifting. Anchorless. The worlds warped and it screamed, a long cry of hatred. An ancient cry. And then it snarled and slashed out.


Talons tear a hole.


Talons tear a hole in reality. The deity rushes forwards, its claws slashing and ripping into reality, eternity bending all around it, twisting sickeningly.


Reality has come, for aeons of vengeance.


The gods named Aetherials are awake and angry, perfectly awake....




Aidan snorted, glaring down at the Zweilous. "...so you think I'll stop." They grinned. The chaos behind the large, pinkish dragon and the smaller blue-and-black dragon was delicious, absolutely delicious. Aidan's grin was swiftly wiped off their face, however - the world shifted. Starlight flashed all around. Things warped and bent. The Zweilous in front of Aidan was also panicking, and illusory waves washed over them both as the Zweilous's body melted away. 


"Asha...?!" Aidan growled in surprise, before they saw their own body twisted. The Reshiram cried out as the world twisted, the chaos replaced with instability. And then the tears in the world itself came. The rips stretched out as though long, dark claws were ripping to shreds the very fabric of space-time itself. Aidan tried to move, find what was doing this and why it dared to, but the shifting world stopped them - and a rip swallowed them.


The darkness swallowed them. Long into it they fell, their mind swearing that they were falling faster and faster, then slower and slower. Reality thickened and thinned around their muzzle. Presently, a faint, purple-pink light became visible far away. A force was pulling them there. Towards it.


Was it it an age or a moment? If you asked them, they couldn't tell you how long it was before pink mists swallowed them - and then gravity took hold and they were deposited forcefully onto a floor of glassy pink tiles interspersed with broken blue-grey ones that had tendrils of blue-grey mist curling from them. Aidan groaned, twitching, before pushing themself to their feet as blue-grey tendrils lapped at them. The room was covered in mist. The Reshiram looked around - the mist served as a ceilinng of sorts. What bit of one wall they could see was shrouded in mist. And they could almost swear they saw figures in the mist.


"...what is this place!?" Aidan demanded. How had they been thrown here?! ...and why did some of their memories suddenly feel unreal? Something was not right. Who did this to them?

Edited by DuskOfTheStars

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The aeons have passed.


The ancient ones awaken.


The seal has weakened...




Anu fought them once before...


Anu helped seal them once before...




Now it is time for his descendants to do the same.



{ Go forth, angel of Valor! }


Panic settled into the angels of the High Heavens as reality itself seemed to fall apart at the seams. Some of the angels were torn apart, others had the "songs" of their souls distorted by the rips. Even the Archangels themselves were separated... and Imperius, Archangel of Valor, was no exception. Every corner he turned resulted in another rip. He was trying desperately to find the remaining Angiris Council members, but the holes in reality were making that difficult. From the Diamond Gates at the edge of the Heavens, to the Crystal Arch in the center... no place was exempt from warped, twisted and torn reality.


Another rip occured right on Imperius, threatening to twist him or tear him to shreds. He tried to fly away, tried to escape the rip... but it was too late. The warped reality had rendered him flightless. With no way to escape, he was swallowed by the rip. This was it - this was how his aeons-old existence was to end...


Landing on a hard floor below him quickly shook Imperius to his senses. He was alive, he was in one piece, his "song" was still intact... and, after doing a few loops in the air, he confirmed that his wings were once again working.


This place was... strange, to say the least. The walls and floor were covered with the same pink color. And so much mist! If he didn't know any better, Imperius would even think that some of that mist was alive, trying to grab at him...


A loud groan came from the corner of the corridor. Against his better judgment, Imperius investigated the noise, and was then bombarded with the sound of another angel's "song". Another angel, here? ...oh, what the blazes, I'll take any allies I can get in here...


To his utter shock, it was Tyrael, the former Archangel of Justice - now the Aspect of Wisdom. But with his wings.


What in the blazes?! Shouldn't Tyrael be wingless?! He paused. Or... was it Malthael who lost his wings...? Or maybe Itherael gave his up to restore mine...?


Nothing made sense. These memories... some of them felt off.



{ Awaken, angel of Justice! }


Tyrael, the Archangel of Justice, awoke slowly to the sound of another angel's "song". It was approaching, fast. Another angel...? Did something go wrong...?


He'd just destroyed the Worldstone, fully expecting to die and have another angel form from the Crystal Arch and take his place... so seeing Imperius there when he regained his senses was a bit of a shock. "Wh... Imperius...? Where are we?"


"How am I supposed to know? More importantly, shouldn't you be wingless?"


"...wingless?? Have you lost your--?!" Tyrael was cut off by an odd feeling in his mind. Regained his wings... Yes, he'd lost them, hadn't he? Or, maybe... Didn't Duriel cut my wings off? Or... maybe I sacrificed them to save the Slayer from Baal? Or did I...? Tyrael groaned. Nothing in his memory made sense anymore!


Something was seriously wrong here.

Edited by hikarinomemori
Minor formatting change in Tyrael's dialogue

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A crate of colored vials tinkled together, glass nudging glass in a kaleidoscope of colors. Somewhere, rolls of parchment were spread, examined with a knowing hand, then rebound. Ligaments snapped into place and hard-cover edges tapped the shelves' backing when their respective notebooks were found unworthy of the trip, and in the light of a single candle, the only travelers packed for the journey were three: one staff, a hooded cloak, and them. No other else was needed; everything this library could have offered them had been long since exhausted, and anything else could be wrought in a matter of hours if needed. Even the comfort of a bed could be forgone for longer than the average person, and anyway, they had grown weary of the dressings of stone and wood suffocating them.




Maybe they never had been meant to stay. She would be disappointed with them.




A whirl of their cloak and a creak of the door and they were gone. Left behind was not a trace of them. No keepsakes. No clothing. Not a crease in the covers. And the even the flame they'd set to the candle soon followed suit, light falling to dark as the spirit took its last bite at the wick. No scent of burning lingered afterward, and when they turned from the door and shut it quietly back, the orange glow of the nearest sconce could hardly brush a finger along them before they vanished.



Outside, it was a completely different matter. The sky was lit gold by the lights of the inner city, roads and alleys utterly alive with the sound of laughter and conversation. Somewhere, some poppers echoed on the street, children screeching with joy at the noise. They took this as a sign to retreat to the shadows, and good thing--soon following came the parents, scooping up their young and twirling them about. A flash of a grey tail, ears...but they didn't feel anything. No snide internal remarks or even the involuntary recoil of the past. But they moved on. Don't dwell on it.



A burst, color overhead bleeding them through with blues and greens. They looked up and found great mum-shaped apparitions spreading and fizzling out in the sky, crackling into the backdrop of a shade of night made indiscernible by the pollution. They jogged to a halt and took a moment to admire the sight, hearing the mortars go off in volleys. The smell of sulphur was rich, mingled with sweet and alcoholic bitterness that wafted down the way. What a time for celebration, and what a way to do it. Loud, flagrant...filled with the same sounds that would mimic a battlefield. The people were out on the lawns and perched on the fountains, strumming lutes and nursing wine. Freed from the tyranny of fear. But strangely, they didn't mind it. Were they anyone else, perhaps they'd even enjoy it, this victory they'd secured. Theirs was no small participation, after all. This was a well-fought respite. One they deserved.




A glimmer in the sky as they neared the outskirts, different than that made of materials or magic. Soft blue. A pinprick.





I see you.






They hurried onward. He was waiting.






Some day they too will write your name upon the stars.


...do they have to?


It's another way to pay you homage. A tale to tell their children and their children's children when they lay upon the grass of the land you freed. They'll be like us right now--pointing at the sky and making shapes, acting like we knew them.


In that case, all of us'll be up there. I don't think there's enough sky for us all.......but there certainly would be enough stories. True as they may or may not be.


Maybe so...but only yours will be remembered.






.......well, if that's how it's gotta be, then at least make a constellation for me first, will you?




Because you actually give two figs about me. And so that I can watch over you. I don't know how real the afterlife is, but hey. It doesn't hurt to make sure, does it?


....I-I....yes, I will.


But keep it a secret just between us, okay? And when I go, put one of you up there with me so I'll know where to look. Alright?














The blue star was just overhead, no longer occluded by the shimmering city in the distance. Here, in the verdant forests chirruping with life, the sound of a stream nearby populated with frogs, the star shone bright and purely, the only light in the sky they cared for. Be gone the moon and the cloudy nebulae, let them fall to ruin and darken the day forever--so long as this one star stood resolute, the night would not be so long for them. Their hand extended toward the star, pale flesh made white in its glow, and when it fell between their fingers like his own the memory came clear. They tightened their grip on the phantom warmth, swallowing down the tight knot growing in their throat and managed a shaking smile.


"I'm coming. Just a little longer..."


Yes...just a little longer. But hadn't it been long enough? The years were crawling by them...and time was stretching into eternity. The mechanisms of their world evolving before them...and they...hardly adrift so much as stuck...



They must hurry.



It was this thought that forced them to withdraw their hand from the sky and continue along their path. They'd wasted their time long enough in this place, the one they'd sworn away so long ago, fighting in a war they had no place in. Maybe it had been a latent sense of responsibility that had drawn them back, or maybe they hadn't lied when they'd said they were in it for the deed. But whatever the case, they'd served their purpose and their service had come to an end. This would be the last night their feet would brush the grounds of Melior. Forever.


They would leave as they had come. Without ceremony. Their celebration was yet to come. A silent communion between them, as they wanted. As he would've wanted.




The treeline was barely a stone's throw away--



"Ah! Here you are."


They turned. They knew that voice well, strong but feminine, befitting of the queen who bore it. She carried herself with an incredible air of grace for a woman that had evidently been trailing them through the countryside in heels; a hiss of bitter-laced amusement escaped them as they picked out the mudstains all around her train.


"Why am I not surprised to see you here?"


She ran a hand through her short green locks, her laugh coming easier than theirs.


"Because you know me too well." She tilted her head at them. "You sound almost dismayed that I tracked you all the way here."


"No, no, not at all. This is just another display of you incompetence. Rather, I'm used to it by this point." They flicked the staff at her slightly.


"Are you even aware of your station? If you enjoyed being a target on the battlefield, then you're in for a treat at home. Rebels vying for your head, auctioning your life for cold coin...I'm at risk of assassination by proxy as we speak." Another cold half-hiss, but she didn't recoil in disdain of them. Instead she retorted back, just as playfully venomous:


"Listen to you talk to me like that. How ever did he put up with that mouth of yours?"


They repressed the urge to respond with lewdity. Instead:


"I never bowed my head to you when we first met. What makes you think I would now?"


"Oh, I didn't forget. Durkon nearly offed you right there in my court. The other guards were hardly impressed, either. But I suppose that's part of your charm: a complete lack of courtesy or respect." She clicked her tongue. They felt themselves draw away internally, but not due to her complaint. It was the reason they'd wanted to avoid her at all costs, the reason she was so relaxed and comfortable with them...


"I refuse to respect dogs." They said it quickly, brushing off the tease before it devolved into further banter. There was no time for this. "Enough of this. Why are you here? And what do you want?"


She shifted her weight and set her hands on her hips. They way she moved, they knew it wasn't purposeful but it...



Her gaze tensed.



"I followed you because I'm worried about you. And because, well..." she shifted again, eyes finding the ground before settling on them again. "...I suppose I always knew this is where you'd be. On the night you were supposed to be happy."


'Supposed to be'...their rankled reaction read too clearly through their hood.



"...I'm sorry." They turned away. The hurt on her face for hurting them was...irritating. By the color of the sky, they knew time was wasting away. She would keep them here till daylight if they didn't expedite this situation. They tapped their staff against the ground, breathing in.



"I don't expect you to understand me, Queen Marcella." What they must do. Why they could never stay...even though they'd divulged much of themselves to this woman, it had been in a moment of weakness--not out of a sense of camaraderie or companionship. It didn't take eyes to assume she thought otherwise, and was now trying to use her wiles to keep them by their side. They scoffed against the tightness in their chest as they weighed their own feelings against that pitiful assumption. No matter how relieving it had been...it had only been that--a means for relief. Nothing more.


"You're right. I can't even begin to know your sorrow."



A touch at their shoulder. They flinched, but didn't wrench away.



"But I know you don't have to be alone."



Alone? Alone? They shook their head at her, this preposterous woman. This presumptuous wide-eyed fool who thought she knew their heart.



"Then you have certainly misunderstood me. I revel in my solitude."



"That's a lie."



The urge to turn was strong. The urge to argue against her was so palpable that it charged a coursing of magic throughout them, stirring their clothes without a breeze. They felt her stern glare through the back of them, but refuse to give her the satisfaction of their consideration.




It was too painful to look back. After several seconds of silence, they took a step.




"Goodbye, Marcella. May we never meet again."


A warp point pre-constructed for them was in sight. A one way trip back to their cabin in the snowy woods, back to the tomb constructed for him out of respect. It would be his last visit back.



Feet clashing against the grass. Knowing the feelings weren't there. A heart made for one person. Secretly despising its craft.



"No! Don't let it end like this!!!"



It was time to go home.










Their hands clutched first at their throat. No air. No voice. No matter how hard they pushed,

their words would not leave their lungs. Mute.


"Kthh...rr..." They writhed against the invisible chokehold on them, kicking out and screaming in silence. The motion spun them around, flipping their hood and tossing their hair wildly through immovable black. Suffocation, drowning...their eyes snapped open, determined to fight the throes of death--



And they saw it.




Some thing. Some ethereal, unwhole miscreation. All bones and spindle, no hair or hide about it. It rumbled and tore at the existence around them, but the words of the voice were lost to a fog.



And then.


The coldness.


The pain of their life force being chewed away, the breaking of the black into squared tiles that cut at their skin. Gravity found them and yanked at their spine, pulling them down, down, down down downdowndowndowndown---






















The impact tore the held breath from their lungs with such force that they heaved, arching off the ground before rolling to their side in a near-vain attempt not to vomit. Their staff was dug painfully into their ribs but they could do little to relieve it. For now, they lay, coughing and gasping into the icy mist-covered tile below until their senses stopped spinning, and when they had recovered enough to drag themselves up into a sitting position, they could see just what they had fallen into.



But it was impossible.



The floor was positively radiating with magic. All around was tiling of blue-grey and pinkish, a set of colors that were garish enough to unsettle their stomach. It was hard to make out, even harder when their ears were left ringing, but there was a faint sound of voices somewhere not far from them. While it was of interest, they were more drawn by a rectangular piece in the room, and when they squinted, they could just make out the details of writing or symbols. That would be the best place to start investigating...whatever had just happened to them. It certainly wasn't death...or they were oddly sure of it...but it didn't feel like reality either. They clutched their hands around the staff's head and pushed themselves to their feet, wobbling slightly from the foggy dizziness clouding their mind.


Focus. Get to the plaque. There must be something of use there...





What had been nothing but gibberish rearranged itself into perfectly readable letters situated into two neatly stanzas. But what the Nomad read was not immediately recognizable as a poem, or not at least one meant for song or oration. They touched a finger to the plaque as they read, not to keep place, but more out of curiosity. Though lit, the plaque was cold, and there was a sense of something arcane willing the runes into familiarity. How odd. It responds to my language, but how is it possible? Their fingers glossed across the smooth surface, not an indent present for the words to fall in. Was it metal? Was it stone? Lacking as well was a particular signature for the magic that must make the thing. They called to each element without a word--Fire, Thunder, Wind, Light and Dark--measuring the reactions of the harmless corporializations against it, but found no advantage or deficit in turn. With a hum, their hand returned to their side, and they focused properly on the words that were before them. They hardly had to glance when the words were ingrained into them:



And for aeons did the First Aetherial wander alone
It grew restless with the aeons that it walked and waited
And so did it forge others

First were Time and Reality 
and in their eterne did Time bring possibility 
as Reality anchored the eternal realms



Another hum, this one more ponderous than the last. Aetherial? What kind of creature...? The Nomad touched a triad of fingers to their lips, drawing them closed until they folded to knuckles. Bones...thin...colorless...but they didn't remember. But something was there, a connection to what was happening and what had happened. These words responded to a moment in their memory--"correlation". But the image wouldn't come. The harder they thought, the further it retreated, covered in a mist they could not dispel. But where frustration would have come to replace it, there was only placidity. Something stirred inside them, phantom unease and panic from a "them" that was occluded...but for now, there was nothing much to do about it. The Nomad needed to dissect the information they were given. They needed to remain calm.


Let's see...an "Aetherial." The first, so, some form of progenitor, if "first" implies more came after. That supports the "wander alone"...ah yes. It does appear that it made more in its lonesome.


The same feeling. Stirring, nervous and cold. They held their free hand to their chest and closed their eyes.


Wandering...alone... But yet again, the source remained hidden. Nails twisted into the fabric found there for a second before they got ahold of themselves.


...mgh...and...the first progeny it created were the concepts of Time and Reality. But that could easily be metaphor in the form of religious text. There wasn't enough information to dismiss it as such, though, and even in that case, the implications on what culture--if there was one--had created it would be important to keep in mind should the text or environment reference it again. But as they read onward, it did appear to be a basic mythology. A basic explanation for the movement of the stars and the continuation of existence--very par for the course. Could there be more to it? That....that they did not know. As they looked around, perusing the corners and nooks of the room, nothing else was to be gleaned at this time. Their answers would come soon...surely.


I should be getting on now. There's nothing left for me here.


A common sympathy. They adjusted their cloak and made for the hall, a hand ever-present over the wall, drawing and reciprocating the magic lying there.



A right turn later and the hall gave way to a stair, with a garble of noises further straight. The Nomad had no interest in company. If they were to meet, they'd make their alliances then--they would not seek them. Numbers were wise to bolster their defense and capability with, but little had managed to overcome them since they'd began their long walk. Numbers meant personalities, and that invited conflict: something they could do without. The Nomad turned to ascend quietly. They were missing the support of an army, and it'd be unwise to barge upstairs singlemindedly.


As they went, the burden of the unknown presence above weighed their shoulders....

Edited by Sugar-Free

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The Sun, she is “Eternally Guilty”
Aeons before in a blood-stained past lies her darkest secret

The Moon, he is so Cruel
As the aeons tore him when he once dared to hope

The aeons destroyed them and called them
The World’s dark past comes to an endless light

Neverending is the night
So now the day dies…




And long now sleep Guilty Sun and Cruel Moon

The ancient hymns lasted for a millennium more….




Another day. The cavern was silent in a sign of respect for the Legend that resided within, but outside it the Giant Chasm they had inadvertently made several millennia before bustled with life. Mira peered out. Like clockwork. The town inside the Chasm teemed with human and Pokémon. In the intervening millennium, all types of new technology had been created. New species of Pokémon had been discovered or revived. Man and Pokémon now reached to the stars… and sometimes Mira wondered.


But today, something was wrong. Mira could feel it. The balance of the world being disrupted. The Complete Kyurem came out of the cavern this time. It looked… normal. But Mira’s senses tingled - and they saw it. An aeroplane flickered, shifted, became something eldritch before reverting to normal. Surprised cries rang out from the ground. Mira stayed still, but hidden inside there was shock - how had that happened? The ground heaved, and Mira scuttled back. It rippled like the ocean, consuming several - the Legend of Unova hurled themselves out. Around them, the air trembled. Houses became geometrical, surreal figures. People and Pokémon crystallized, shattered, tore to pieces. The land shook, creating vast, deep crevasses that faded to white.


What was doing this? Mira hissed as a gust of wind was swiftly followed by the sky tearing itself apart, revealing pitch black void…. A void like those between realities. This wasn’t anything ordinary. Mira turned, icy dread rising, when something screamed behind them to witness an eldritch creature all of glass and sinew, with ever-fading and solidifying bones. Its eyes glowed stark blue, and the aura it emanated made them quail in its aeons-old might and sheer power and feeling. Might beyond even the Untamed Sun and Undying Moon…. The thing rushed, its talons tearing up the world itself, leaving those black gashes - it’s … all black.






When Mira came to, they were falling through black, an occasional flash of starlight. A pink mist was gathering beneath them, and they struggled to spread their mismatched wings - the void was thick as molasses, before suddenly - loosening. Just then, the pink mist swallowed them. It choked their senses for a moment before fading away, but already their memories felt unreal, evanescent. They could keep a good amount - but their aeons of existence insured there to be many memories to slide away and return.


The grey dragon hit the ground with an audible sound, breaking several pink tiles which faded to blue-grey. Around them, tiled walls of glassy pink and some broken blue-grey tiles were visible, though not much could be seen. The floor was the same type of tile, and through the mist it was impossible to tell if there was a ceiling or how it looked. Looking around again, a figure had become visible through the mist. They hesitated, before deciding to step closer… and when the figure became visible, they breathed in sharply.








I cant remember Your name. I know you, but I cant recall your name right now, with my memories shifting. Didnt we fight side-by-side a millennium ago? Mira knew - him… her… them… ...? No, why couldn't the Kyurem remember this?! It… slipped away…. They looked at the familiar figure again, expecting a snappy and curt reply.

Edited by DuskOfTheStars

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The Nomad had barely taken more than a few steps before the heft of the pressure above grew too palpable to be ignored. Gh...what on earth is this?! Something like suppressing weight--the very air around them made thick and substantial, not unlike water, and too like the slowly-swishing haze that clouded their head. That in itself was enough to prompt them to round on their heels, a subtle fear welling in the place this anomalous area had created within them. Their staff braced against the chalky, mottled stone, the Nomad cast out a hand in offense. 


But little could they do to fend off the searing rush of sluggish spirits stirred to action as reality parted before their very eyes. Consumed by a deluge of power, the Nomad only thrust up their arms to protect themselves as they bore into the ground and spun through the air: Wind to Thunder, Thunder to Fire, Fire to Wind--elemental annealment cast without a word in defense of their master. A good thing, too; the only anchor the Nomad had for the sense-shattering impact of an impossibly huge mass just feet away from them was the spirits' necessitated grip between realities. Light twisted into a slurry of red, yellow and green as they fought against the insubstantial offender, and though Nomad was rendered effectively blind by their fury, they, too, could feel it. Impossible power...I can barely stand to oppose it. This manner of monster--no! It's much more familiar than thatThe spirits continued to flare and roil long after the stones had stopped pelting them, and when they could no longer take it, they forced them to stand down with a stern command. Just as quick as they'd appeared, the apparitions dispelled, though not without some reservation, and the trio of colors fizzled away into particulate and then to nothing. It was a dangerous gamble to leave themselves so open, but any more taxation at the hand of near-feral spirits would render them spent and useless. Better to conserve their energy lest this entity was any less than amiable.


However, while that remained, a simple glance beyond the torrents of dust cascading from the ancient ceiling was enough to confirm their prior suspicion.


But while any other wayward traveler would express great joy and gratitude toward familiarity in an uncertain world, the only expression the Nomad could muster was one of reproach.


What they examined was a massive winged reptile, their monochrome body of both mechanical and avian shape with sharp planes of glimmering ice on their feet, knees, shoulders and face. Points of flame-red and electric blue stood as stark contrasts to the white and black of their cranial tendrils, and when they finally righted themselves the Nomad could make out similar trichotomies in their other features. Blazing. Arcing. Frosted. It was no wonder the Nomad's magic had leapt from its slumberous state in their presence. Before them rose not some twisted creature, but a dragon, brimming with the power of the elements. It would have been ironic to the point of hilarity to claim they were previously strangers to the like before now, but nonetheless were they taken aback still. The dragon approached them slowly, and the Nomad heard an equally incredulous gasp be uttered by them in return.


S…" They started, the name thankfully clipped before the rest was rendered a troubled sigh.


"Oh I cant remember Your name. I know you, but I cant recall your name right now, with my memories shifting. Didnt we fight side-by-sida millennium ago?


Instantaneous familiarity. A timespan that seemed too long. The Nomad's eyes narrowed suspiciously, and they raised their hand aloft again, keeping a firm grasp on their staff for leverage should they need it. 


"Hmph. What a pathetic attempt to comb me for information," the Archsage replied, the bite in their voice still strong after years of application. Yes, they knew this being, but only their form. Whether this was the very same embodiment they knew or a simulacrum sent to mislead them was hard-telling, but they had no intention of leaving it up for consideration. They tilted their head in their direction--a coax, not an affirmation. "That's not how this works. You will be the one answering my questions, and if I find them anything less than truthful, I'll cut you where you stand. Are we clear?" It would have to be. It was their life on the line, and if the dragon valued theirs, they'd respect it. Better yet, if this was more than a delusion, they knew the being would understand, given the circumstances. The Nomad had no time for "benefit of doubt".


They breathed in to clarify and strength their voice before straightening their form, the verses of magic a taste away from being realized, should the opposition try them. It was difficult, but the Nomad had to come up with a means of securing the dragon's identity. They poured through everything they knew about them--their trifold existence, the nature of their parts and their sum...and came to a conclusion. It was a stretch, but even in their world, gods were not omniscient. There was no greater example of hedging their bets on something they could not prove, but they had to try.


"I'll start with something simple, something even I cannot recall, but you should have no issue with. Your species...what is its favorite food?" To an outsider, that was a borderline asinine question. But the caveat was the sum, as Nomad did recall: this one could not lie. Either they would tell the truth or concede ignorance, and the latter would be proof of their deception.


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"Hmph. What a pathetic attempt to comb me for information." The familiar figure replied. Mira eyed them as they continued on, the suspicion matching Mira’s bifold recall of their experiences with the one now staring them down. "That's not how this works. You will be the one answering myquestions, and if I find them anything less than truthful, I'll cut you where you stand. Are we clear?" The Complete Kyurem almost sighed… what parts of their memories felt real… true… those parts made this so familiar. ... No time to waste. In a situation like this, where they'd been kidnapped across worlds again but this time to an almost eldritch location. They caught a scent, but couldn’t dwell on it. Yet.


The figure paused. Mira remained silent, continuing to watch. They took a deep breath before stiffening. Mira tensed too, almost involuntarily, but relaxed when the question came. "I'll start with something simple, something even I cannot recall, but you should have no issue with. Your species...what is itfavorite food?" 

My favourite food is  Liechi Berries, Mira replied. They had paused, as though reaching for the slippery memory before getting it, and the last two words came out a bit firmly. The monochromatic dragon shifted a bit, craning slightly closer… yes. That scent - their memories slipped again, but it was definitely familiar. ...they were… they were most likely….

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The boy was leaving.


The night sky was devoid of clouds, allowing the myriad stars to shine down on the world with all their glory. The crisp frosty air of the Windland Snow Mountain nipped at Pavel’s skin, but he had grown accustomed to the unrelenting cold. Pavel was fully aware of how rude it was of him to stow away on the side of a hill instead of extending his farewells to Kasel and his friends, but Pavel couldn’t muster the courage to go down the hill. He couldn’t bear to stand there and see her in the boy’s smile or hear her whenever he laughed, loud but warm. Pavel had been worried that when he finally met Kasel all he would see was his father, but he was the spitting image of his mother. Somehow, that was infinitely worse.


Pavel had excused himself by claiming he needed time to mend a recently reopened wound. That had been a lie of course, but Pavel couldn’t find it within himself to care. Sitting on a snow-covered boulder, Pavel rested his cheek on his fist as his gaze turned upward. Pavel’s eyes locked onto the pale, full moon: a beacon of light amongst the dark sky scattered with stars. Pavel heard rustling in the bushes behind him, but he didn’t bother turning around. He had a good idea of who was approaching him and, as he heard the muffled crumbling of snow being stepped on, he glanced to his side to confirm his suspicions.


“Lewisia,” he greeted as she hopped onto the rock. “Is there any particular reason you chose to look younger today?” The girl, appearing no older than nine, shook her head.

“It’s easier to conserve energy in this form,” she replied. She brushed away a strand of silver hair from her face before roughly prodding Pavel’s shoulder with her finger. “A better question is why are you moping up here instead of saying goodbye?” Pavel looked away from his friend. He twiddled his thumbs together, anxiety tightening in his chest.

“He looks so much like her,” Pavel said quietly. Lewisia’s eyes widened a fraction at the admission. She uttered a soft “Oh” under her breath but said nothing more. She discreetly scooted closer towards Pavel. When her hand brushed along to top of Pavel’s, he closed his eyes and allowed his fingers to be intertwined with hers.


“She deserved to be happy.” Although Pavel did not give a name, Lewisia knew who he spoke of.

“I know,” she said as she tightened her grip on her friend’s hand.

“He should have stayed with her,”

“I know.”

“She should have raised her son in a castle surrounded by loved ones.”

“I know.”

“It’s—” Pavel let out a shaky breath, a flurry of emotions knotted in his stomach. “None of this is fair to her. She deserved better than an empty promise and a lonely house.” Lewisia did not reply. She conceded with the fact that there was nothing she could say to soothe her friend’s worries. She gave Pavel’s hand a gentle squeeze which he reciprocated albeit more softly. Pavel finally opened his eyes, blinking before turning his gaze back skywards. For the longest time, they sat staring at the start, the silence only being interrupted by Pavel’s hushed sobs. Lewisia was kind enough to pretend she didn’t notice that Pavel’s cheeks were wet.


“Do you think she—”

“Pavel! Lewisia!” Pavel was cut off mid-question by a familiar voice. He hurriedly wiped the tears from his face and turned around to see a terrified Nyx standing behind him. Pavel hadn’t seen Nyx for years, but he could understand why someone with the power to hop between dimensions wouldn’t stick in one place for long enough. Despite their lack of recent communication, Pavel couldn’t help but feel a twinge of concern for the utter look of despair plastered upon the man’s face.


“Nyx?” Lewisia said as she and Pavel stood up from the boulder. “What’s the matter.”

“There’s something wrong with the dimensions,” Nyx said, glancing over his shoulder as though the perpetrator would be behind him. “The fabric of reality is being torn apart by something.” Pavel and Lewisia exchanged glances. Neither of them was well-rehearsed in the laws of dimensional travel, but they could both tell from Nyx’s tone and the way he was pacing in the snow that something was horribly wrong.

“Why don’t you sit down for a moment?” Pavel suggested, motioning towards the boulder. “Take a breather. Once you’ve calmed perhaps we can—”


“Pavel, move!” Pavel startled at Nyx’s outburst, but just as he was about to open his mouth and ask what was wrong, the world began to shift. Pavel’s first thought was that an earthquake was suddenly shaking the ground, but as he began to wobble in place he realized that even the very air seemed to shake. The air was sucked from Pavel’s lungs as the ground seemed to give way underneath him. He heard Nyx shout somewhere near him, but Pavel couldn’t bear to keep his eyes open as an unnatural chill, too harsh to be the natural cold produced by the Ice Dragon’s powers, filled him to his core.


“Lewisia, the boy!” Pavel tried to say, but his voice caught in his throat. His hands clutched through his throat as his very marrow became ladened with a sharp, piercing cold. The world grew dark and suddenly he was falling. He writhed in the vast darkness, choking on the pain swelling in his body as he fell down into the bottomlessly dark.


At least, it seemed bottomless. Just as Pavel began to accept that he’d fall for all of eternity, his body hit the ground. The breath was knocked out of him as he landed on the tiled ground. The horrid chill that had filled his body was replaced one more with the natural coldness that emanated from his body. He coughed aloud, cringing in pain as he slowly pushing himself to his feet. In the corner of his vision, he could see Andarta Andraste, the twin orbs, float by his side. Well, at least he wasn’t defenseless.


Straightening up, Pavel blinked the blurriness from his eyes as he examined his surroundings. The floor beneath him was opaque as though it were glass and colored in vibrant mix of pink and blue-gray tiles, making it hard for Pavel to keep his eyes on. A thin mist drifted throughout the room, obscuring the ceiling and allowing Pavel to perceive only the dark form of silhouettes in the distance. He could hear the muffled sound of speaking from the distance, but he could also hear the soft breathing of someone nearby. Intending to ask the stranger where he was, Pavel turned towards the stranger only to close his mouth as soon as he realized what was before him.


They were a creature of some sort decently bigger than Pavel. Their fur was white tinged with a pink hue that contrasted well with their stark red eyes. The creature—a dragon Pavel’s brain helpfully supplied—didn’t appear to be hostile, but that didn’t stop Pavel from instinctually backing away from them. He tried to search his memories for an idea of what he needed to do, but his mind was buzzing. He caught glimpses of hazy memories, one of long blue hair and a delicate smile and another of sharp teeth bared into a curled snarl. Neither thought was particularly helpful.

“Who are you?” Pavel demanded. The orbs by his side hovered by his side, waiting for the command to strike. “Were you the one who brought me here?” It occurred to Pavel that he not only had no idea where he was but he hadn’t the slightest clue where he had been prior to arriving. Pavel shook his head. He could worry about his memories later; for now, he needed answers.

Edited by Doctortear

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~I don’t think this is where she went…~


Lara Croft placed the last bunch of flowers in front of the lake from which she had emerged. Anaya placed a hand on her shoulder, knowing how much guilt Lara felt. She, out of all thirteen people who went into that tomb, was the only one who made it. Amanda had been close, oh, so close… She could have lived. If she had managed to get rid of that shoe on time… But no. There was no way she could have survived.


“Lara, there was nothing you could have done. You were lucky to be alive,” Anaya mused. Lara stared at the flowers hesitantly, wishing that there was, in fact, something she could have done. She absolutely hated not having a hold of the situation, especially if lives were at stake. But…


Anaya, I know… I…” She froze, feeling a sudden surge of cold pierce her body. “A-Anaya, what is going---” She could no longer speak, and it felt as if she were being taken down… Down…. Down…








Lara landed on the ground, coughing and gasping for breath. Whatever sort of limbo she had been in was finally over, but where was she? Everything was so blurry. Everything was so dark. Where was she? Was this the afterlife…? It couldn’t have been, perhaps she had fainted? But then why was she struggling to breathe now? The ground was so… So cold… She heard voices from nearby, having some sort of a conversation. What was going on? Who was that? The voices sounded like none that she knew particularly well. When her vision cleared, Lara looked in the direction the voices came from. One of the voices came from a tall, almost draconic creature. She was unsure what sort of mystical being it was, but it could have been very, very hostile. Then she saw a hooded person, the other voice that she heard. Everything felt so weird, she felt so dizzy, so sick… But she made sure to hold her stomach’s contents down. She would be fine. Yes. She just had to make sure she was not in Hell first. With her failure to save her friends, she would definitely be going there.




~Dammit, that was a good kill, too!~


Lara Kashirin howled with glee as she sped towards it. While Jean was too busy being a dumbass to kill the Titan, she decided to make her move. Sorry horse-face, but that’s mine. I’m adding that to MY count. She approached the nape of the Titan’s neck, raised her blades, and soon those blades went into contact with its flesh…


Success. The Titan was down with one mighty fall, and the ground shook a bit. That was it, the last one of the group. Commander Erwin nodded. “Nice work. Mission was a success, now to head back and report.” Lara grinned, ready to walk to her horse…


What was that sinking feeling?


Why was it freezing?


What was happening?


Why did it feel like she was suspended in mid-air, but like she was falling at the same time?


Why was this happening to her?


She landed on the freezing ground with a loud THUNK! Breathing heavily, she heard more booming voices, those that she did not know. Looking up, vision clearing, the figures she saw were the strangest ones possible. They were tall, winged, and in full-on body armor. What…       Was this?


Uh… The hell are you?




~Time to scope.~


Silver found himself lying on the ground, unsure of what happened or why he was here. He couldn’t recall where he was before this- was he asleep? Was Gold bugging him? The information escaped his mind rather quickly before he came to. Silver took out his Pokeballs and made sure none of them had shattered on impact. To his relief, everything was fine. A bottle of lotion he was holding for Blue was on the ground near him, wide open and spilling out. Well damn, he thought. Silver stood up and took a look around. If it had not been for the glowing floor, the place would have been pitch black...and it appeared to be some sort of a cave…. Or… Not?


Time to check the place out,” Silver murmured to his team. He placed them all on his belt and continued moving, trying to get a better feel of the layout of the place.


Edited by Mikasa361

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{ A strange mortal appears... }


Another voice caught the attention of the two Archangels. A mortal, to be certain, but one dressed in the strangest attire either of them had ever seen. "What are we?! Have you never seen an angel before?!"


"Imperius, please... Can't you show some decorum?"


"You're one to talk, Tyrael. You got yourself destroyed, for Anu's sake!"


"Only because you wouldn't do a thing!"


"And who are we to aid mortals?! They got into that mess themselves!"


"Oh, so it's the mortals' fault that the Worldstone was corrupted by a Great Evil?!"


"It's their fault that the Evils keep making way into Sanctuary!!"


"No more than yours, you egotistical idiot!!"


...no doubt about it, there was some clear animosity between the two Archangels. They were bound to attract some unwanted attention if they didn't drop it...

Edited by hikarinomemori

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   (Starting from my old TWWFA intros, skipping an intro, and going from there.)

   Near One Wall Somewhere Nearby-Ish


   It had been a... well, honestly, she couldn't remember how long. Not very long, she knew, but that was it. At one point though, she recalled being in a vast place, lit up in a pleasing way that was both practical and aesthetic. She simply recalled all of the colors of the lights and some vague shapes, then a visual of nothing but splotched colors. Sprinkles, that's what they were. She wasn't even a sugar fiend. Then, she was hurtling through indeterminate space, something impossible to describe without paradoxes. Then, she arrived here: The Purple C'thulu Room. Or was it the Tentacles, Tendrils and Tiles room? She hadn't decided yet. Whatever it was though, it was permeated with fog, both difficult to think and see through. She knew she was forgetting things, for sure, but somehow her knowledge had been locked away from her, like a ransacked library with only scraps of stories left. Something red and angry, with a black face and piercing eyes, screaming something about trying harder. A boy with a bewildered expression as she shouted at him for not being a man. The smug grin of a queen as she walked away with all of her souls; that's right, her souls! She needed those souls, especially now. Maybe the queen, or whoever she was, came and took them away again, or maybe it was someone else; regardless, she still had a sour taste in her mouth about being rock-bottom in power again. No spells, no miracles, no more glory. Back to lurking her namesake and picking off the weaklings of fights, trying to work up enough energy to at least defend herself against a golem.


   Shadow leaned against the wall, spinning an almost industrial-looking scythe with one hand, with two blades decorated by a thin chain. She didn't mind looking stereotypical - if anything, it earned a few laughs - but acting like one? She wasn't an antisocial egotist, or some kind of doomsday robot! Yet, she didn't talk to anyone because there was no one to talk to but Grip.

   Grip. Who knew there was a boy in the universe who turned into a weapon? Shadow didn't have a clue... probably... but at least meeting the guy helped ease her vengeful pain. He had an interest in hunting for souls just as much as she did, and had an unusual self-awareness even as a scythe, but she hadn't planned on keeping him around. She just needed someone to help her get enough power to summon her own weapons, and she'll be fine!

   Then they realized they were both confused, both lost, and both forgot everything. They walked around in circles twice, and neither of them are even sure of that. The infinite purple halls twisted and vexed them at every turn. Neither had found a soul, ally, prey, or otherwise. Only a couple of flying crystals that they had managed to defeat - while arguing with each other at the same time about "who's in charge" - only to find out that the crystals were possessed by some kind of essence that dissipated on death.

   Ugh. There was that sour taste again. After that, they decided to share what information they could with each other. Something about Meisters and talking bats. Then they fell silent, unable to think about what to do next.


   Shadow didn't know what Grip was thinking, or even if he was dizzy from all of the spinning, but she knew something was wrong. Why would her memories both be and not be there? Why does she remember being in two different places two seconds...? Two minutes...? Hours...?? However long ago? She knew she didn't belong here; something that subsisted off souls could not survive in a place this dead, no matter how strong the connection with death is. Opposites thrived near each other!

   "Agh, I can't believe we're still here..." Shadow groaned, looking up at the ceiling, or sky, or whatever the vast endlessness of fog could be called. "We were displaced! Surely something else will be too!" she shouted at it. She suddenly gasped, dropping Grip and letting him clatter to the floor. "What if we've been here for THREE YEARS and we don't even know it?!" she shrieked, grabbing her head; whoa, she forgot she yelled like this a lot. She chuckled nervously, trying to relax but only getting more nervous at the "epiphany". "I'm going to go crazy down here," she said, in tones that absolutely did not sound like she was crazy at all.

   There was a sudden boom out in the distance in the room, making her jump. It was proceeded by a series of accompanying thuds, as though something was broken or fell down; unfortunately, she couldn't see squat through the fog, which only put her more on edge. Yet, it was at least something that had happened so far...?

   Two glows then appeared through the fog, dim and distant, but noticeable: one a soft blue, the other bright orange. Those... felt familiar, somehow... and the fog began moving in strange shapes. With only one wall behind them, it was hard to tell if it was just swirling, or if there was more out there.

   Shadow just stared, speechless. She gestured to it once, looking at Grip as if he could answer for what it was, skepticism showing in her movements.

   "Is... should we trust it?"

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Grip -- Also near that one wall somewhere


Having found a pair of capable hands... or claws...? and a compatible wavelength, Grip felt himself at ease. He couldn't quite recall the circumstances outside of these rooms of mist or how he had his ability in the first place, but all he needed to do was focus on the whistling of the air when he cut through it once he convinced Shadow to relinquish some of her rigid control.


Grip's thrill and triumph were short lived. After the skirmish was a whole lot more of nothing, until Shadow finally stopped and, to put in a polite way, had a breakdown. She let him slip out of her claws.


"Ow! don't drop me like some kind of toy!!" he shouted telepathically. "Do you treat all your normal scythes this way?!"


Grip sorely regretted that his weapon form didn't have any painted eyes or mouths to show off how pissed off he was for her lapse in attention, but his scythe's chain whipped impatiently like the tail of an annoyed animal. Granted,the impact with the ground didn't hurt at all -- it barely registered as a bump.


He just liked to complain.


For the moment it was just the two of them and, while he did immensely appreciate the fact that he had found a wielder for the time being, Grip conclude that this Death -- in her own words -- was a total crazy lady. He honestly did not know if the reaper was like this on a regular basis, or if it was the strange mists blanketing the area that was causing her sanity to slip. Or maybe it was starvation? She did eat souls, like him, but maybe they were necessary for her system to function properly.


That would make his own task of harvesting souls that much more difficult if they had to share limited resources, but if she needed to be well-fed, he didn't mind conceding his share.


As Shadow continued her tirade, Grip felt vibrations through the ground he was laying on. While by no means blind while transformed, he had always relied on a partner to sense threats for him since -- he knew this, at least -- that was a Meister's end of the bargain. Making a conscious effort to right himself by levitate slightly, like a human hopping back onto his feet, the scythe followed Shadow's gesture and peered into the glows in the distance.  "Hey, something after miles of nothing! Let's go check it out, why not? If it's more of those crystals, we crush 'em, if not, then it's better than wandering the halls until either of us collapse from starvation."



Edited by TehUltimateMage

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An answer. Like a fading dream, the pique of inevitable truth they clasped before it slipped away again: insignificant now. The Nomad hummed to themselves, conceding. Then I have another for you, this one testing the dragon’s emotional core. It was fleeting, but they remembered the day so long ago...when the reign of crowns drove them both nearly to madness. The pain they’d experience, the toll on their minds and bodies under a tormenting blaze...they knew it dug deep, and they’d seen its repercussions in the aftermath. Better yet, in the depths of a poisoned dream, they glimpsed their agony of being rent apart, of being sealed as tiny masses no bigger than one’s hands. The loneliness. The isolation. The manipulation of their very beings as pawns in the games humans oft played.


Yes, this one...this one would feel. And the Nomad would drudge up those old pains from millenia before them. It was the only way.


I highly doubt a specter would care for something so corporeal.


Their heart required no steeling for what they would do.


So say you are who you say you are. Then Im within my rights asking about these millenia past, arent I? Tell me: who are you? What were you? And how did you come to this place?




Mira should’ve expected the next question, really. It still made them almost flinch, but… they’d spoken about this to them before… one of their three selves, at any rate. Nay, four selves - the whole and its three shards. Calm down you need to answer.


The Complete Kyurem searched their memory, falling into a silence.


...I am Mira. The whole Kyurem.
But in millenia past, I was Thuban - the Reshiram who in the vicissitudes of mortals was made their prize, Polaris - the Zekrom whose heart was torn by mortal machinations, and Mira - the shattered Kyurem who could only wish for the end of the endless pain of incompletion.
....how I got here I assume you want the whole story.

Mira glanced down and grunted before returning their gaze to the familiar figure. Their aeons-long existence... what they COULD recall…


...then. Aeons before, my homeworld was devastated. Everything I knew - ripped away in an instant. For aeons, I wandered deep space on a comet the last remnant. ...and then I fell from the sky. The region of Unova.. its royalty reached for me. A pause. Mira’s silent for a few moments, eyes narrowed in … betrayal? They saw nothing more than a pawn, but I had been for aeons starved of contact. It came to a head ah heh several millennia ago. Two princes, diametric opposites who shattered my soul. Who broke us into three, and cursed our existences. They forced us to fight. they used us. Over and over, mortals came looking for all the power they saw. Mortals turned and cursed the lonely, pained dragon who couldnt find their others. The others torn apart, the others who ruined a region and were lost in accursed stone.... Mira’s telepathic voice trailed off. Again, a swift glance to the ground. The roiling mists made the memories evanescent. But the greatest wounds still hurt…. Their teeth worried their upper lip. They forced their telepathic voice to get under control.


They’d come this far - they couldn't just stop now. Keep going.


“We lay dreaming when the mortals machinations left us untouched, till just over a millennium ago. Then N Harmonia awoke one of our lives and he was so the first. The first to not see a tool and then Hilda awoke the other slumbering life. And we did battle again. But this time they saw more. More than aeons-old tools.



I believe we lived the rest of the story together no? But after we became whole again, we waited in the Giant Chasm for another millennium. Timeless as the world changed. Left behind in ancient promises until today. Their gaze finds its way back to the figure again. They breathe in - twin familiar smells, one the figure’s own… and the other…. That blue-haired man.




The Nomad leaned on their staff as the dragon spun their weave about the legend of their descent and the days following after. Some they’d been present for...but that was nearly a century ago. Back when the Day chanced to end the Night, when the Night nearly swallowed the day...a shudder rustled the fabric over the Nomad’s shoulders. They were not so romantic to call them “dark days”; from their perspective, the leverage of a prophetic hymn had been their savior--it was only in reflection did they realize they were likely never in any real danger. Or so it was for a select few. They knew now to tread carefully when a prophecy failed to define its terms, or do so in suspiciously vague words. Never before and not since had they felt so entirely violated.


But with their musings came the opportunity for memories to arise beyond then. Mira’s tale was mostly unknown to them, and the Nomad’s interest didn’t extend beyond confirmation of their suspicions--the grinding of their maw, the emotional delivery, their threefold self--, but their mind kept drifting past with every line.


Shattered. Broken. The words resonated with them, echoes across an expansive lifetime pocked with times of strife. Lonely, pained...


A clean cut in their consciousness where the greyed-out recollection resided seemed to ache, dully until it lashed like a bolt into their stomach and caught kindling in the wound bundle of nerves.






Their face contorted with pain, but they made no other show of it. So quick it must have passed by the dragon’s senses...must have

No, they reminded themselves, It is merely weakness, but alas, the virulence afflicting them was ephemeral. They probed that mass of foggy greyness in their mind, hoping Mira’s presence had managed to jar it loose, but it was for naught. Nothing recalled but the lack of it. They scoffed. Enough. I wont be crippled by this place and its charms. They craned their head up in time to meet their companion doing the same. The Nomad took a subconscious step back.


A touching tale, but I have no reason to disbelieve it. They tapped the butt of their staff on the floor. Very well. I recall you. But Im surprised youve forgotten my name, everything considered. An amalgam with the memories of three, but still affected by this place’s glamor; it must be more than mere magic, they realized. Was there some creature, base or holy, that had such a muzzle on their memories? Under no other circumstance should Mira have forgotten them. Too much had occurred, too much they had learned to be so complacent, and far too deeply did the wounds of the past rend the creature for them to have simply willed them away. That much was clear in the past, let alone here and now. It had been their driving purpose to rejoin as one back then: Thuban, Polaris, and their core Mira; the past was more than an experience for eternal beings like them, after all. But just like the history they embodied, perhaps it was for the better.


Just as well, I suppose, they shrugged, suddenly shying their right arm from Mira, more than a little disturbed by the flaring of their flattened nostrils as they seemed to sniff the air around them. Friend or not, they still abhored the distorted figures of beastkind. It was my name. Once. But...that time has long since passed away. Should you remember, Ill ask you to keep it to yourself. Im loathe to consider who else might haunt these wretched halls...”  Aware they'd made no effort to return Mira's gratitude (nor reward their snooping), The Nomad began to make for the steps again, motioning for Mira to follow.


Come on. Staying in one place makes us targets. I've much to share rega--




A mass--flesh and bone, too dense to be mortar--slammed down on the floor aside from them, causing Nomad to grasp at their hood and flick it over their face. This time, the spirits stayed mute, and no rubble flung forth from the impact to strike them. Immediately, they sided up to Mira and poised themselves to cast. Under their hood, red went to slits under suspicious lids.


Reveal yourself, they said calmly, voice punctuating the silence with confidence, Drop your weapons if youre armed. Youll have no need of them if you do as I say.


The Nomad looked the figure over and was somewhat relieved to see it was a beorc female, but if they’d learned one thing from the Celestial Incident, they couldn’t be too careful. A quick check with their senses confirmed no magical signatures, but an armed combatant was still plenty dangerous when their skill and kit was unknown.

Edited by Sugar-Free

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~Shut your headasses up.~


Lara blinked as she watched the two strange beings fighting… And every time they made a pass at each other she felt her blood pressure rise another level. They started to respond to her, but then just flat-out ignored her because they had to argue semantics and other things! They called themselves angels…? What were those? By the Walls she wanted to grab them by the front of the shirts and scream at them to get their crap together and save it for later.


...Except they were coated in heavy armor. And judging the fact that they were larger than her and she was outnumbered, she didn’t want to engage in physical contact. But she did prepare herself to raise her voice and yell over these two morons.


Oi, I’m still here! I didn’t just suddenly vanish! Can you two knock it off??? I don’t care what you are, that doesn’t put you above basic manners.




~Weapons down, guard up~


Lara held her hands up, showing that her guns were not in her hands. She carefully approached, hands still up. Her head was pounding, and walking around the way she was was extremely disorienting. It felt to her as if she was going to vomit at any minute. Lara was unsure of whether or not she would be able to unbuckle her holsters and take them off- it was hard to concentrate on anything. Thus, when she was close enough, Lara gently lowered to her knees and closed her eyes, allowing the sickness to very slowly subside.




~Simple recon~


Silver continued exploring the area, noting just how unsettling the place was. He felt every hair on his body rise, the goosebumps feeling very strange against his clothing. It was almost eerily quiet, and somewhat cold. Just what was this place? How did he get here? What was he doing before he showed up here? It was so unclear, and Silver had no idea if this place was safe. Considering his heightened senses and his escalating heart rate, he was almost certain that it was very unsafe.


Soon though, he noticed that there was a sign of life other than himself in this place. One of the voices he heard came from a large creature that seemed draconic. Was it a large white Pokémon? Or was it something else? The other was a fellow human, a young man with long white hair and somewhat extravagant clothing. Silver approached with caution, not wanting to provoke either of them.

Edited by Mikasa361

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   Close to Three Arguing Humanoids

   Shadow closed her eyes for a moment, processing Grip's suggestion. He certainly was the type to throw caution into the wind, wasn't he? She felt like she was the same way, even if she couldn't recall why.
   "I suppose you're right," she sighed, grabbing the scythe again, letting a smile creep back onto her face. "What's the worst that could happen?"
   ...She felt like there were tons of bad things, but she couldn't remember anything of them. Blast her memory... What was the point of having it if she could barely remember her own name?
   Shadow pushed the thought to the back of her mind, tucking her arms - and Grip with them - under her cloak, proceeding forward at an easy pace. Her movements were just a tad wobbly; from her inability to remember grace, or from magical weakness, she wasn't sure. The clinking of her armor and the tap of each step was a screaming testament of her existence, so she slowed considerably once she could see silhouettes of the glow's owners, as well as a third figure between them, their indistinct shouting echoing out to the duo. The glows were familiar somehow, with vague wing-like shapes, but the recollection evaded her. As she came closer she saw that the winged figures were actually floating off the ground and were arguing, explaining the shouting. The third figure was standing, looking between them, before loudly reprimanding them both.
   Well, so much for being concerned about her own footsteps.

   Shadow skirted the trio, inching as close as she dared in order to try and discern what they were, and keeping her mind open so Grip could get an idea too. The winged ones were armored, and appeared faceless like she did; in fact, the apparel wasn't much different from her's... She recognized they were armed, but she didn't know what the instruments were. She had even less luck with the third figure, who looked like a completely different person. She couldn't even tell what gender the species was, only that the way it held itself was slightly familiar....
   Shadow frowned and growled softly as more and more information escaped her mind. It was as if every time she tried to think of something the very ideas flew away!
   Maybe I should let Grip do the thinking... she thought, edging in just a bit closer, listening to the trio's conversation and observing their movements. Guess I wouldn't mind being the cog in the machine to keep him alive, if I'm going to be reduced to nothing anyway. The thought was tragic, and clutched at her chest, but all things came to an end eventually. Supporting another Reaper isn't a bad way to go.
   Wait, Reaper? Is that what Grip is?.... Yeah, sure, we'll go with that, she thought grumpily, resigning to the idea. It was hard not to become indignant about this turn of events. She tried to make herself focus on the task at hand.
   "Well? What do you think?" she quietly asked the scythe. "Should we go for the grounded one? Or get the flying ones out of the way first?"

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Sleep and wakefulness. 


The slumbering calamity kept in check by the awakened Administrator. 


That which imposed non-existence once again kept asleep by that which administrates existence. 


The Administrator can no longer stand idly by. 


The obligations of the Administrator much now be fulfilled now that the Calamity has been sealed and has vanished.


Now the Administrator is obligated to find and return the Calamity to where it belongs. 


And the Administrator must maintain the system. No matter what it might cost or what may be lost in the process.


Azaryn-Rothoth was just another of countless entities from whence he came. One of an innumerable race, yet as the firstborn who sired Creation with its existence, born from the maelstrom of Chaos it was with Chaos that it sired more Chaos, it had built the foundations for it's children and siblings. Yet now that Chaos was gone and with it, much of Azaryn's Administrative Authority which was derived from the Chaos that was Azathoth had been slowly diminished, which could only mean that the Daemon Sultan was only two or three steps away from wakefulness. And should its eyes open all would fade away. It needed to find it's progenitor before it's own universe could crumble into the dust like countless others. The being that called itself Azaryn-Rothoth, it who Administrated reality itself could not bear the burden of nonexistence once more. Clearly if Azathoth could not be felt in this Universe than it must have somehow relocated. And the Outer God known as Azaryn-Rothoth would not relent it's dogged pursuit until it found its forebearer and brought back that which was needed to maintain its universe. For now it would have to trust itself and leave it's consciousness behind as it formed a physical vessel and spirited it away to traverse the planes of existence in it's pursuit to maintain its own 'home'.

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++Walker of Aether++

By: XxXblue_dragonessXxX



notey 1: Its 1000000 years into thefurue after the scoocr game so lots has changed 


notey 2: thers a lot of peiple who are asking about team Hellfire but i didnt get arond to writin that cuz THSI WAS MORE IMPORTANT !!!! when i Get back from vacay well see >x333


notey 3: See if you can s pot the seekrt ship i put in alot of refrences from my last fic so i jope u enjoy (人ゝω・)





It wuz a lovley day in a cin in the woods and a man in a hood walks out. the lovley brite silvery star s shimmring above showed down on his head. His red eyes shimmered and glimmers wet wit greif becuz he was thinkin of his lost lover who was died a long time ago becasue he wuz just a human. The didnt call them humans tho because that's a bad word but I dun remembre whut it was. but he was ad and he was thinking abot him. "why must i live so logn youwere supposed t outlive me he cried. it had een almost 30 years and he was older now. HE could sfeel it in his creeky bones. "y do I have to live forever" he asked th sky, and above he saw the srat they names together. They had named ths tsar to gether. suddenlt the sky lit up in lines and the form of the lover was shown. the man In tha Hood fell t o his nees and sobbed. "you were m y 1and only"


but the lines faded nad he cride summore. He was alone noe. but he herd his voice say "you gotta live on, be strongk fo me", and so he had and he knew hed keep being stong. the man in the hood had to lice. I'll be stron adn I'll live for u" he said with detrimation, and he turn and saw marcella there. Marcella is the wueen and the man in thehoof worked for her for a lot of years but he didnt like it becuze it was just for the cabin in da hoods and he had no love for war. "y are you out her ***** (cesored because its a s{POILER!!!) your supposerd to be celebrating." "why do I wanna celebrate he bit back I hat e this place and wheres my deed?" Little silvery limmery tears shown in her eyes why do you have to be so vruel ***** i--" BUT she stopped before she couls say it. the manin the hood stared bullets at the greenette. "DONT TREAT ME LIKE A CHILD" HE said because he still looks younge and doesn't liek people pointing it out. Mercalla didnt mean it that way she loved ***** but she was a quen and he was just a nomad (get it?) and he was still heeling. She almost blorted it out to stop him but he turnsd before she could and stopmed away. "NO ***** DON:T DO THIS" 













nomand hits the groun and alot of dirt flies up. But its not dirt because its wierd and purple. the mand in the hood gets up and looks arounf and sees a pane thing. "where am i wheres marchella" he asks himseld. Its so cold and theres no stars but the sky is like dark ness. he sees a panel and gets up and goes over too it. As soon as he sees it the words came right off the pages! and into his mind and he instantlyed understood it. because he was really good and languauges and knew them all. "This place is in anal ternate dimesion!", he said in an ephipany! Just like last time he knwe he needed friends but the nomads hated friends cuz they just got in the way. as he Whent down hall as he went down the hall, a peice of reality got stuck in his finger causing it t bled. She sorta scoweled at it sence he hated everything even moar since ***(CENSORED!!!) died, but he super hated that a lot. but he kept going and all of a suden WHAM A DRAGON CAME RIGHT OUT OF NO WHERE! the man in the hood did a perfect doge because he predicted it just as planned since he had dragon sences. and then magic kept flying everytwhere and  the man was ready to kill them! But it was actualy...




"The big black and white and grey dragen got up and spoke to the man in the hoos. "I know you" the said "they because its actually reshi and zek and kyu and i thout they were all boys but whatevs :/ That just made so the man in the hood madder. "WHY ARE YOU HERE WHYAM I HERE." and the fusion gave an swnser but it's really wordyand IIdun wanna write it out. the Nomad listenred but it didnr really answer his question so he ignores it. 




"NOW, LARA!" And then Lara started shotting at the ethereal and kekrom used thier balance powers to bind the infinitie with his ice power. The Ethereal sceeamed and then nomad rushed and got the killing blow with his ancient wind magic inbued with dragon energy. Since he was a tactishun she was used to bein in controls so everyone listned. and then they three destroyed the ethereal and it fell to pieces with glass failing everywhere. The three all got to gether over the bones and cheered like they do in FF(<--------LIIIIIKEEE~~~) and the victrey music played to. "Now just a few moar to go..." and the three walked on to the next flor the future was clear and the arrow from jojo flew in and everything whent seppea and roundabout played











OR IS IT?!?!?


on the very top of the vortex worl a man with big musculls and dark armor laufed and crossed his arms and spun liek he does in his taunt in smash......... 






The Nomad found their balance significantly thrown to one side as they attempted to approach the woman for her weaponry. A hand pressed against their forehead did nothing to settle the garbled buzz of thought battering their fatigued mind. 


"Was that...?...No...impossible...


They shook their head and willed the fuzziness of the wretched image on their mind away. 






~~happy easter fools' day uguu~~

*Permission to post granted by Dusky*


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