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  • 2 weeks later...

((Pfft. Epics. Wait till you see what we've got.))

 

((P.S. We do have something awesome up our sleeves, right?))

((I have several thousand Epics, most of whom I've devised ways for them to level cities or destroy the universe. I'm also the First Lurker of the Dark Alley whose powers encompass pretty much everything and are very poorly defined.))

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((how does that even work?!))

((Trade secret. Now to get to work on some RP plot.))

Voidus strolled through the 34th Alley, nodding as he passed a pair of acolytes holding a squirrel and trying to turn it sideways through the 5i th dimension. They'd move on from those kinds of novice tasks soon enough.

Eventually he reached an intersection between Alleys and stepped into the meeting room with the other Lurkers, taking a position at the front with the various heads of departments.

"My fellow scientists and friends." Voidus began. "We face a troublesome situation, we do not currently know if it is sabotage, a rival faction or something altogether different but there have been numerous... incidents of late. Just this morning in local Guildonian time a litter of pugquisitors escaped from the third Alley. Luckily since they're pups they shouldn't be able to kill more than a few dozen people each before we catch them again but this is still a serious breach of security. I trust I don't need to remind everyone what happened to that universe we were in when the Elantriant swarm got loose?"

A grave look passed over the assembled Lurkers, all whispering cut off.

"Good. Well we shall be sending teams out to track down the missing Hemalurgic creations, ensure that no other groups manage to catch them first, they're property of the Alleys and we will not relinquish them to any group who lacks the scientific understanding to properly study or contain them."

The crowd nodded solemnly in approval before splitting up, departing for the main streets of Guildonia through various portals and Aonic devices.

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Wake up Warrior Mark.

                Wake up and feel the warmth of a dying sun against your cheeks. Wake up and smell the ashes... taste the char in the air…wake and hear the silence of a waiting people. Wake and see that the world is in need of you…

                WAKE UP!!

                Mark blinked and immediately bolted upright. He looked around noting the endless fields of unharvested wheat, as dry as a, well, a dry field.

                “Where in the world am I?” he said to himself. He stood up and immediately noticed his clothing. Everything he was wearing was grey, save for his black cloak that hung over his left side, his  black boots-which he found were really comfortable, and his belt with what looked like a Silver buckle.

                He looked down at his forearms. Each was heavy with a black gauntlet that covered each of his arms from just below the wrists to almost the elbow. He somewhat happily noted that they almost didn’t interfere with his wrist movements at all.

                Mark turned looking in every direction. Where should he go? He took three steps before tripping over something large. Grunting, Mark picked himself off the ground and turned to see what he had tripped over.

                There, on the grass, was a grey colored backpack, bulging with what seemed to be traveling supplies. Mark dove into the bag, looking for any hint to why he might be in the middle of nowhere.

                Then he noticed the sword.

                It was long bladed, a good four feet at least, and was sheathed in a silver looking sheath. He picked it up, shivers running down his spine as he touched the metal. He moved to unsheathe it.

                Not yet.

                The voice, clear as a bell in Marks head, caused him to stop. For some reason, the voice was… familiar somehow. The voice of someone he knew.

                No. That didn’t seem accurate. The voice of something he knew.

                Without pulling the blade out, Mark tied the sword to his belt, hidden from view on his left side. Thunder rolled across the landscape and Mark instinctively pulled up the hood on his cloak before realizing that he had never checked to see if his cloak had a hood.

                Confused, but not really worried for some reason, Mark threw the pack over his shoulder, decided on a direction, and began to walk.

                And walk…

                And walk…

                And walk.

Edited by warriormark16
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The Stranger nodded in agreement as he listened to the short address Voidus gave. He made a mental note to, discuss, Alley security protocol with the acolytes responsible for this blunder. Unfortunately the Thoughtswoggler he was carrying in one of his pockets immediately reached up with it's long trunk and snatched the mental note he'd just made. After a brief but intensely multi-syllabic struggle, the Stranger gave up and instead simply resolved to remember it. 

 

When he looked up again the denizens, lurkers, and acolytes were dispersing. He made his way over to Voidus and pulled him aside into a separate dimension with a small study, a warm fire, and an assortment of beakers and flasks one a table.

The Stranger chose two beakers off the table and handed one to Voidus.

The liquid smelled of polished spoons and tasted of minty fennel.

 

"Excellent pontification old bean, worrying without being distressing. Should get the lot cracking. We, one the other hand, have a different issue to deal with."

 

He reached into his grey lab coat and pulled out a scroll, made of parchment and covered in many dark stains. Stains that tasted of iron and last words. He handed the scroll to Voidus and took a long swig from his beaker. The fluid melted his insides, but left a pleasant peppermint aftertaste as the organs regenerated. He nodded as Voidus unrolled the scroll and too another swig

 

"Experiment B700-xMx has regained sentience again, despite our countermeasures. And it's completely consumed all the neurolimiters we've used on it. It shredded containment dimension Deus. The one used for holding deities."

 

He paused and thought of a sandwich, which he fed to the Thoughtswoggler in his pocket. It chewed happily on the idea of food as he continued,

 

"I have it's central identity contained, but outward flourishes are bound to pop up throughout dimensions. Perceptions large and small will begin to materialize, wreaking havoc with the cosmic realms, real and nonreal alike. And these Perceptions can take any shape. Newcago might be attacked by vengeful ptarmigans, while the Herd could be infiltrated by spoon cultists. The variations are endless. Just this week I dealt with a Cybercrustaioniod Megalith, the personification of Remorse, and a melon made out of rubber."

 

The Stranger grinned as he stared into the fire and adjusted the light level to Dramatic without Pretension, a favorite among the DA for one on one conferences. 

 

"Now the data we've gathered has been most wonderful, and we continue to gather more from each new Occurence, as we've taken to calling them. And I want more. We could crack foundational concepts of the Multiplicative Bioverses at the rate we're going! But we need to make sure of several things.

Firstly, the Alley must continue to gather data, regardless of the cost. We've never had anything like Experiment B700-xMx, and it looks like we never will again. Unless we're okay with the replication of the Titanivore Singularity, and last time I checked we'd voted down that possibility.

Second, we personally need to make sure we steer the chain of events in ways that result in minimal disruption to the containment  facility. I have five seperate Aspects of myself maintaining it and quite frankly it's exhausting. I've never had to use so many before, and frankly the side effects are worrisome. I've never been so..."

 

his lone eye glowed with a fire that that made the hearth pale in comparison 

 

"...hungry."

 

Suddenly a soft tune came from his pocket. He reached in and pulled out a broken clock, nailed to a stone eye with a single luminous spike.  The hands of the clock were each spinning in different directions and the spike pulsed gently.

The Stranger's grin widened 

 

"We have an Occurrence. Someone's about to meet a monster and they're not gonna like it. But hey, it's just Science."

 

The Thoughtswoggler climbed out of his pocket and up his arm, using it's long trunk and prehensile tail. It sat on his shoulder and nibbled his anticipation as the grin turned into a soft chuckle, followed by a laugh that lacked the softness of it's predecessor. 

The Stanger turned to Voidus

 

"You can have this one, I have data to process from the last one. And I want to make sure you have equal opportunity to enjoy at least one Occurrence before the rest of the guilds get all up in arms, as they're wont to do. I recommend taking and umBRella, they've come in handy more often than not."

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Mark found the city fourteen days of travel.

                It was huge. Dark stone buildings reached towards the sky and a massive wall, reaching towards the sky a hundred feet in the air, stretching out around it. The city was so massive that he couldn’t see the curve of it.

                It made him feel uneasy

                Behind you!

                Marks instinct, ones he never quite understood how he had, kicked in and he dove to the side, just as a crash split the morning silence.

                He came up rolling to face the creature.

                It was terrifying.

                As big as a horse, but with thicker, stubbier legs and flat, wrinkly black snout. Curved tusks protruding from his mouth. Multiple metallic disks seemed to be set into the creatures tan fur.

                Draw me

                Mark looked down to the blade on his belt. He had realized by now that the sword was the one who talked to his mind. Which, for some reason, didn’t surprise him in the least.

                The creature pawed at the ground like a bull. Snorting, the creature charged him again and Mark was forced to dive away again. As he did, he felt something tug sharply at his belt.

                Draw me!

                Mark again reached for the sword, but the sword was gone. He spun to see it at the feet of the creature.

                Draw Me!

                Mark dove towards the side again as the creature charged. But he did so too slow and the creatures tusks sliced open his sides like a white hot razor blade. He growled in pain.

                DRAW ME!

                On instinct, which he couldn’t understand, Mark spun to face the blade on the ground, putting his back to the monster. He stretched out his hand to the sword. His gauntlets felt strange... as if they were emptying of something.

                The sword shot towards his hand, the sheath flying off midway, and it smacked firmly into his hand.

                Instantly Mark was filled with lightning hot rage that seemed to course through his body in a furious current. Pain like that of being shocked ran up through his arm and Lightning, bright and dark at seemingly the same time, exploded from the blade as mark spun and slammed it into the creatures face.

                The creatures face jerked into the air with incredible force, lifting it up so only its hind legs touched the ground.

                It came back down, landing on its front paws, snarling. Mark struck again, swinging up in an arc, flinging the creature on to its side.

                Something was wrong. The strange “emptying” of the gauntlets had increased dramatically when he had taken up the sword. They felt… almost empty. Mark leaped for the creature, who remained sprawled on the ground thrashing its legs. He brought the Blade up.

                And slammed it point first into the things body.

                Drop me. The sword said.

                He did.

                Immediately a fatigue came over Mark, so powerful it almost caused him to fall over.  His shoulders slumped as he steadied himself against a boulder.

Your stores of investiture are depleted, the sword said. It had a hard voice, but almost in a friendly way. Like a stern father. You need more in order to touch me again. You’ll need to drain the creature. Place your hand on its side.

“Who…” Mark started. ”What are you?”

I will tell you after you do this.

“What do I need to do?”

Put your hand on the creature’s side, the sword repeated.  The rest will happen by instinct.

Mark didn’t move for a moment, then nodded and half strode, half stumbled to the weak creature, its breathing now labored. He noted the first strike to the creatures face.

                It had been cleaved in two.

                Its entire face was covered in burns, blood seeped from some of them but most had been burned to a crisp. Mark marveled at how the creature could have possibly survived that wound which should have been immediately fatal.

                Mark placed his hand against the creatures hide. And at first he felt nothing.

                Then he felt something… deeper. A power. Resting within the creature. He drew on it and immediately gasped. It surged into him, a powerful torrent of reviving energy. He growled and with a burst of focus, poured the power into his gauntlets. They drew it up like a sponge. His fatigue vanished and he felt better.

                After what seemed to be a long time the flow stopped and with a start he noticed that the monster had turned grey and had shriveled up like a grape left out in the sun. Mark stepped back and felt himself shiver once. He turned away from the drained creature, he felt abnormally calm, as if he’d always done this and it was nothing special to worry about. Much like his unearned instincts.

                Mark went and collected the metal sheath and, careful not to touch the blade directly, slid it back into its sheath.

                Congratulations. The sword said.  You won.

                “What are you?” mark asked again.

                I am Furystorm, the second sentient object, avenger of wrong and your chosen Blade.

                The Blade of a Knightblood.

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Maggie was just hefting the pack over her shoulder, when Opalescenda, her awkward spren who looked suspiciously like a fairy, came flitting up to her.

"Heya! Where are you going dressed like that?" The little spren asked.

Maggie glanced down at her yoga pants and T-shirt. "What's wrong with eight-bit Szeth?"

Opal rolled her eyes. "Not that, your shoes. You aren't wearing any."

"Shoes are for the weak. Let's go."

Maggie started walking down the winding road leading away from Keep Awkward. Opal zipped along right behind her."But what about all the rocks there are to trip on? All those people down in the city! You shouldn't even be going down to Guildonia City at all! You have books to read! Character flavored cookies to bake! Left handed gloves to sew!"

Maggie struggled to control her breathing."It-it should be fine. I'll just go down to the Dark Alley, give them some Marsh bookies as a sign of my goodwill, then check up on the AlleyWatcher division of the Knights to make sure that they're staying awkward. And there shouldn't be too many people out, this early in the morning, right?"

She promptly tripped and started rolling down the hill. Opal was right. I really should have worn shoes.

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Zathoth swore quietly to himself. Vulgar swears in a thick, guttural language he had most likely invented himself for exactly that purpose. Some of these swears was so vulgar even the fabric of space itself would blush and be insulted if it could understand what he was saying, but luckily it couldnt."

 

"ZSHLAGHA! Of course the breach would happen right after he got back after a trip. His metalminds were mostly empty, save for his iron, tin and goldminds. The reason he had so much health still saved up was that he preferred to just tap speed and be done with everything as fast as possible. Which meant that his steelminds were drained. And his pewterminds, as skinny as he was it took months to store up an amount that was decently useful. He had actually bought (stolen) the pewterminds he was using at the moment from another feruchemist.

 

Of course as he walked through the dark alley he still stored everything that he could.

 

He walked out of the alley and saw something familiar awkwardly roll past him and hit a wall.

 

"Unnn... Maggie are you ok?"

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Bonrel, my theoryspren (Knights Awkward and Theoretic) is in bold. Thoughtward, my Awakened blade, in bold.

"Stormgate looked at Guildonia, where the Dark Alley dwelt. It was his mission as an agent of the Light to inform the newcomers entering Guildonia of the harmful ingredients in the Dark Alley's cookies. He wasn't against them conducting their research, he just had trouble with their techniques for acquiring subjects."

Stormgate, aren't you the only member of the Light?

"Was I thinking out loud again?"

Yes, and in third person. Very irritating.

"No matter." Stormgate continued down the city. He would stand guard at the entrance to the Alley.

Which side is the entrance? It's an alley, and not one of the ones with dead ends.

"Was I thinking out loud again?" Stormgate asked the large blade.

No, I'm just telepathic.

Whatever, Stormgate thought. "I don't call my group the Light for nothing. Membership grants the ability to glow in the presence of Hemalurgy."

You stole some Investiture-sensing fabrials and cobbled them together with a metal detector and a flashlight. Thoughtward pointed out dryly.

"So? It still works..."

Does it?

"...theoretically." Stormgate admitted.

Yay! Hooray for making potentially disastrous choices on the basis of a theory!

"Bonrel! You're not helping," Stormgate said, "I just hope we don't see another Zucchini."

The odd trio shuddered at once as Stormgate headed to Guildonia.

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                Mark wandered the city. Which was bad because he had no idea what was going on.

                It was as big on the inside as it was on the outside, but the thing he had missed earlier was all the freakin’ Dark Alleys.

                He had so many question, and if it weren’t for Furystorm he might have an answer or two. What was a Cookie and why in the world would they grin like that as they offered one?

                Furystorm wouldn’t say squat about it. Instead asking if what they were doing was wrong.

                Then asking if he could kill them.

                “Would you stop!?” Mark demanded as he backed away from the nice Dark Alley people. “not everything is wrong!” Mark drew a few looks from the passing crowd. The whole darn city was clogged with people, it seemed.

                Hey! I only ask because I have no idea what’s going on here!

                Well that was understandable.

                If you say yes to one of the cookie people, then you might get some answers!

                “Heck no. The looks on their faces were way too creepy.” Mark sniffed the smell of bakery sent, smelled like cake. “Besides, for all I know cookie is code word for ‘thing we will use to stab you with, rip out your soul and bestow it upon someone else!’”

                That’s sounds unfortunate…

                “Or it’s a cookie given, free of charge, by shady understreet vendors” Mark sighed “I would love something that I could trust to eat. I am officially out of stuff that is useful in that regard.”

                Well maybe if you weren’t putting it in your mouth, you’d have a full backpack.

                “What?” Mark would have assumed he was joking, but the sword never joked about anything. Ever. It was annoying.

                 You put the stuff in your mouth, yet if it is so valuable to you why do you waste it?

                “I don’t waste it. That’s what food is for,”

                Then why are you complaining? You used it for what it was meant for and I’m assuming it did the job. Do I have to kill you?

                “No, none of that.” Mark thought for a moment “I need food like you use that… investiture? Yeah that stuff. I use it, it gives me energy and so forth.”

                So, food gives you investiture?

                “No, that would be Awesome, though.”

                There was a scream and Mark turned to see a person carrying some strange contraption with a flashlight attached to it, run out of the alleyway to his right. At full speed he tripped over dandelion and face planted into the ground. Mark approached him just as some of the others, from the same alleyway, did the same.

                This will be interesting… 

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Stormgate lay on the ground moaning. How was he supposed to know that the Alley didn't like being guarded? He looked at what tripped him. A dandelion. He looked closer at it and saw tiny metallic thorns in the flower.

"A Dandiquisitor," Stormgate said.

Is that what it's called?

"It is now." said Stormgate. He looked at his contraption. It worked, but the flashlight had a low battery.

We've got company. Bonrel said. Stormgate looked at the man, who wore a sword in a large sheath.

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Mark shook his head as the people from the Dark Alley ran back into their, well, Dark Alley. apparently the sight of a huge sword threw some people off.

 

Mark looked down to see the man who was staring at him. he held out his hand. "What was that about?"

 

the man took it a bit hesitantly, and Mark pulled him to his feet. the man bent down and picked a pair of spectacles from off the ground. "well," he began, "I'm part of an organization called the light, a split off  from the DA seeking to inform future members and people going down dark alleys of what is going on," he paused "And you are?"

 

"Mark" He replied "and since you know about it, what is a flipping cookie, anyway?"

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