The Longest Thread (Misadventures)

[Immortal Platypus]

55 minutes ago, Thaidakar the Ghostblood said:

me too! Rond is great. I'll really work on it during the lunch break today. 

[NameIess]

The sewing/suing/sowing contest lasted for thirteen extremely confusing days, at the end of which it was time for the winner to be decided.

[Immortal Platypus]

No one really knew who would win.

[Lunamor she/her]

They had forgotten to write the rules.

[NameIess]

So they brought in a neutral third party to determine the rules, and thereby the winner of the confusing contest.

[Immortal Platypus]

3 minutes ago, NameIess said:

So they brought in a neutral third party to determine the rules, and thereby the winner of the confusing contest.

This third party was No One, the wielder of Analysis. 

 

[NameIess]

After much deliberation, No One indicated that the Pineapples had won the contest. This would have been cause for much celebration, if every Pineapple hadn't been killed during the competition.

[Immortal Platypus]

It was strange, and no one (NP) knew how it had happened.

[Faerie Braids she/her]

Historians would later suspect that the sheer density of confusing homophones employed during the competition had resulted in mass hysteria, anarchy, and total social collapse, but it could not be proven, as all the primary sources on the subject had died. 

[RoyalBeeMage he/him]

it was rumoured however that one pineapple survived who would later come back to avenge the pineapples.

[Faerie Braids she/her]

This pineapple (whose existance remained unconfirmed) was named Penelope (according to questionable sources), and was the sole surviving heir to the Pineapple Throne (citation needed). 

[Immortal Platypus]

The watermelons had captured the throne and held it in their capital city, Dirn.

[Ookla de los Cuervos he/him]

Abalador began to mess with the sentient fruits.

[NameIess]

Moni stepped out of darkness into a sewer which was, for some reason, filled with watermelons sewn to the walls and floors. She let out an annoyed sigh, stepping to the side as a royal-looking pineapple wearing a hooded cloak ran past, then checked the date on her watch. Looped back again. Storms, this place is confusing.

Frustrated but still resolute, she continued on.

--

The possibly-not-existing pineapple may be walking down a forgotten street towards a half-destroyed hovel in which dwelled an almost-dead old man who had, in times long past, been a great ally to the pineapples. His name was long forgotten by all, and his title nearly likewise, but Penelope (if she existed) may have known it: The master of Nin.

Edited February 7, 2024 by NameIess

[Immortal Platypus]

Hacob let out a gasp. He might have been watching all this unfold.

[Ookla de los Cuervos he/him]

Abalador was giggling, as his projection was working. 

[NameIess]

Penelope may or may not have opened the door fearfully, eyes searching dim interior, looking for some sign on life.

[The Bookwyrm he/him]

2 minutes ago, NameIess said:

Penelope may or may not have opened the door fearfully, eyes searching dim interior, looking for some sign on life.

"So, young one," Nin's Master may have said if someone was there, his creaky old voice possibly echoing from the darkness of the hut. "You seek your destiny."

[NameIess]

Just now, The Bookwyrm said:

"So, young one," Nin's Master may have said if someone was there, his creaky old voice possibly echoing from the darkness of the hut. "You seek your destiny."

Nin's master, it must be noted, was far past his prime. In fact, he was so far past his prime that both his body and mind had deteriorated. Even with his clouded mind and weak body, however, he still knew the look of someone on a quest.

Penelope, for her likely not happening part, knew none of this. In her youth, she could potentially have read the stories of Nin's master and the legendary feats he had accomplished back in his (extremely distant) day. Hoping to find a reasonably old, still mostly capable master might have been her goal in coming here.

If she did exist and had come, she would have been very disappointed by the sight of Nin's master, lying on what looked like his deathbed.

[The Bookwyrm he/him]

1 minute ago, NameIess said:

Nin's master, it must be noted, was far past his prime. In fact, he was so far past his prime that both his body and mind had deteriorated. Even with his clouded mind and weak body, however, he still knew the look of someone on a quest.

Penelope, for her likely not happening part, knew none of this. In her youth, she could potentially have read the stories of Nin's master and the legendary feats he had accomplished back in his (extremely distant) day. Hoping to find a reasonably old, still mostly capable master might have been her goal in coming here.

If she did exist and had come, she would have been very disappointed by the sight of Nin's master, lying on what looked like his deathbed.

Nin might have coughed and looked upon young Penelope with milky eyes. 

"You," he might have said, wheezing, "have that look in your eye...something I have not seen in many, many years...oh Nin, where are you? Will you come back to your old teacher?"

[Immortal Platypus]

Hacob might have watched, interested. 

[Ookla de los Cuervos he/him]

41 minutes ago, The Bookwyrm said:

Nin might have coughed and looked upon young Penelope with milky eyes. 

"You," he might have said, wheezing, "have that look in your eye...something I have not seen in many, many years...oh Nin, where are you? Will you come back to your old teacher?"

Abalador may or may not have poked his head in.

[NameIess]

1 hour ago, The Bookwyrm said:

Nin might have coughed and looked upon young Penelope with milky eyes. 

"You," he might have said, wheezing, "have that look in your eye...something I have not seen in many, many years...oh Nin, where are you? Will you come back to your old teacher?"

Penelope perchance may have stood frozen, staring into the eyes of one who had long ago been among the greatest of heroes, but was now nothing more than an old man, coming closer to death every day. 
 

For his part, the old man in question likely would have coughed, breath coming in ragged gasps, muscles crying out in agony as he slowly sat up. 

“I always…wanted to teach a pineapple. I cannot remember why I thought it, but I always thought…one of you could bring out the true potential of my techniques. But now… I am sorry, young one. I am so far gone…I cannot teach any longer.”

[Thaidakar the Ghostblood he/him]

Oh my gosh, I finally finished. This's been wild to write. Can't wait for more stuff. I'm gonna go read and stuff. 

On 1/18/2024 at 6:54 AM, Immortal Platypus said:

"I do," he said before the energy swirled.

 

Platypus looked around, still holding the knife.

"I've always accepted death comes for all. One cannot escape it. But I will not die. Tell me, do you fear death?" He settled into a comfortable stance, light on his feet while seeming relaxed. His blade was raised, a silver sliver in a room full of the dark.

"I fear death as one fears their own sword, cautious around it." Darkness grinned, eyes flaming red. "I am Death's sword, sharpened for service. Shall we begin?" 

Darkness closed his eyes, red energy flowing around him as two more arms sprouted on either side. Two long bo staffs formed in his hands, molten crimson glowed moodily from within each staff. The air sizzled and cracked with every move of the staffs. "Death is the music of life. Life is the symphony of eternity. The darkness is the creation of light."

"We begin."

Darkness' eyes gleamed as he rushed Platypus, moving from side to side, bo staffs spinning wildly in coordinated attacks on Platypus's flanks. Carefully planned strikes would hit Platypus on either side, each hit would feel searing, sending a rush of pain into Platypus, making his vision red for half a second. 

Power flowed in the air around the duel. To Platypus, it would seem as Darkness' own abilities causing it, but that was not it. It was Balance, carefully watching every motion, every attack, ever block, every parry. This would be interesting.

Would Platypus solve the puzzle and escape the second trial? Balance could only hope... if not, he would have to focus primarily on one of the others. The substitution in case Platypus could not fulfill his role.

It would hopefully never come to that.

 

/~|~\

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Mythos knelt, eyes facing the ground, torch light reflecting weakly into his cursed stone mask. He couldn't move a muscle, barely able to breath, much less speak, and those were nigh exhausted. He'd been this way for days, maybe longer. He didn't know. His world was almost entirely darkness and meals spoon fed to him every once and awhile. He'd been separated from the two guards who'd grown to like him. Apparently one of Darkness' servants had discovered them and told Darkness. Either that or that blasted high priest, Rond. Rond deserved to die.

Then again, so did many people that Mythos knew, so that barely said anything meaningful about him.

Mythos gritted his teeth as he heard a snide voice drift to him. "Mythos... I never thought I would see you again. When I heard that my new master had you in chains, I was... pleased."

"Spook..." he replied, "What brought you here? Not too busy dishonoring our father's legacy, I hope?" It was hard, putting thoughts together and bringing them into words. But for Spook... he could do it. Spook reminded him of the past. And the past brought him peace and security.

"Silence!" 

"Oh, I do believe I've had enough of that," Mythos said, aching to rub his neck. He struggled to hide the fact that his throat was sore beyond compare. "Does it help the pain?"

Hearing no response, Mythos continued, "Does working for our father's murderer help ease the pain of the fact that you didn't know?"

The sound of metal crystalizing from pure narration brought a smile to Mythos' face. Oh how reckless his dear brother was. And to think Mythos hadn't even remembered his little brother merely a few months ago. "Do you play with death like you once did with your blocks, little brother?"

"Speak another word and I will kill you here and now. I don't care what Darkness says about needing you for his plans; I will slit your throat right here in this prison cell." Mythos could feel the air crackling as the barest light that Mythos could see through the stone mask began to light up exponentially. Interesting... so Spook was willing to risk his Plotblade too.

Mythos took in as deep a breath as he could muster, "What did Darkness promise you?"

Something searingly cold touched Mythos' back. Mythos didn't move a muscle, concentrating on the void and the flame, just as Cucumber Beard had taught him. 

"I'm not here to bandy words."

"Clearly, and yet you still are. What did you come here for, Spook? Perhaps you're going to give me a to go bag and let me off on my way from this quaint establishment?" Mythos said, drawing in a shaky breath. The pain rattled down his spine and he tensed, un-tensed, groaned. 

"I'm here to ask you a question."

"Is that so? Then, gladly, go ahead and shoot it."

"Did you know?" The words echoed through the cavernous chamber.

"Did I know what?"

"Did you know... Did you know that Feanor was Thaidakar? Did you know we were brothers? Did you know he didn't kill our mom?"

Mythos hesitated, breaithing heavily for a moment. He did his best to conceal it, speaking in a sarcastic tone. "Did I know..."  The sharp edge of the plot blade left a knick in his arm. He grunted, digging his feet into the ground, "I didn't know."

"Good." The sword left Mythos's back and he finally got a restful breath.

It was a long moment as steps reverberated through the chamber. Finally, Spook was gone, leaving Mythos again alone in his prison. Alone with his thoughts. And thoughts were often more dangerous than any sword, even a sword of Plot.

 

 

/~|~\

\~|~/

 

Unbeknownst to Mythos, a pair of eyes watched him. The eyes, in fact, belonged to Rond, high priest of Darkness, former friend of Thaidakar Von Kelsier. However, at the moment, the high priest was not feeling very priestly. No, in fact, as he watched Mythos, he felt a twinge of regret. He could stop it all now and not risk anything. Alas, no. If he stopped, he could not gain his revenge against Darkness, and that would be the undoing of all he had worked towards.

No, Rond couldn't fight himself over it again. He'd committed. 

Mythos was in the center of the room, arms wrapped in a metal formed of Darkness' abilities and a trace amount of Mordite. IN those chains, Mythos could not use any kind of Narration beyond what was granted him narratively by the unfortunate amount of energy present in the palace. 

Rond moved, stepping stealthily forward. He hesitated, watching as Mythos was in exactly the same position as before. Mythos didn't seem to make a move as Rond strode forward, slipping a key out of a pocket. He moved it forward to beside Mythos' face where a key whole lay, pointed downwards. He pushed it in. There was a click and Rond smiled.

The mask fell to the ground, revealing a purply bruised face and fluttering eyelids. After a moment in which Rond felt relief flush through him. He would do this. The plan was working.

"I'm here to rescue you," Rond said. He moved over to each wrap of metal around Mythos' arms and tapped it with the key. The metal evaporated, leaving lead-ish beads of mordite on the ground. Mythos' arms fell to his side and the ground. 

"Rond..." Mythos said quietly. 

The near silence made Rond hesitate. "We have to go. You'll learn more from the others."

He looked at Rond, a flash of anger dancing in his eyes. Then one of deep thought. Finally, Mythos nodded, standing slowly, but surely. Rond gripped his hand, lifting Mythos upwards.

The priest danced to one of the rough walls, pressing the key to the walls then muttering a few words. He sighed relief as a door cracked open in the stone. 

Rond nodded to Mythos who limped along as Rond led the way into the passages. Torches on the walls lit up with an eerie red light, flickering, almost seeming to glitch as the smoke rose to the curved ceiling.

"You knew my father."

"Your father?"

"Thaidakar."

"Yes, I knew Thaidakar."

A long shattering breath emitted from Mythos' lips. "You tried to kill him."

"And he's tried to kill me."

"You work for Darkness." They reached the end of the tunnel, a seemingly blank wall. Mythos raised his eyebrows.

"Yes... but without that protection, I could not be freeing you currently." Rond pressed his hand to a wall. It split open, revealing a jungle path down a granite staircase.

Mythos groaned, "So who are the others?"

"You'll see."

They strode down the stairs in relative silence, the trees and animal life making their standard noises. A small pouring of rain drizzled on their backs; a welcome change from the stale chamber Mythos had lived in for the past while. Rond sighed as they reached a small clearing where-

"Micheal!" Mythos grinned, stepping away from Rond and walking to the surly man that surely was Micheal. Micheal nodded to Rond. How the man had changed. He was grizzled now with an unkempt blond beard and grim eyes.

Micheal and Rond had met by chance as Rond had captured one of his men and let them escape with information. They'd worked together, giving eachother assistance on different operations on slowly cracking down on Darkness' attempts to destroy TLT.

Rond nodded back. Micheal led Mythos into an armored transport, talking softly with eachother.

Rond watched for a few minutes as they left, grinning. He was doing good one way or another. Someday he would be able to watch as Darkness died with some sort of blade in his heart.

Feeling content with himself, he turned to go sneak his way back into the fortress. The priests on his side had been causing a good distraction, ready to deploy the reasons why Rond had been gone precisely when Mythos had escaped. 

However, he was stopped in his tracks barely after he began his trek. For right in the middle of his path stood Spook Von Kelsier holding two powerful weapons in either hand and an expression that could've curdled milk.

"High Priest Rond, I sentence you with treason. As punishment, you will receive..." The Narrator lifted his blades, "Death."

[The Bookwyrm he/him]

Bookwyrm sat on a grassy hill overlooking an infinite sea of green. A sun shone overhead with a pure white light, and lazy white clouds drifted through the deep blue sky.

Rym stood by his side, looking off towards the horizon in the same direction.

The two stood in silence for a long, long while, listening to the gentle breeze and the turning of the world.

"What am I doing here, Rym?" Bookwyrm finally said.

Rym glanced down at him.

"Did you know," Bookwyrm continued, "That there was a time that I believed Narrators and Authors were one and the same? I thought that was how it worked. That my will manifested in the world around me was identical to the will of someone higher; and maybe it still is, in some ways...

"But I've realized; we're very different. We're flawed. We can die. We can become evil and do so, so much to hurt those around us...

"Even after I learned the distinction, I thought that I was different. I thought that my Author was me, that everything I did reflected his personality to a degree of no other Narrator. But now..."

He summoned his Narrationblade and gazed at it's intricate patterns. "Now I know I'm not. I'm no one. I'm a shell, empty." He sighed. "Even this...me telling you this...what does it all come to? I've left this world alone for so long...conflicts have been fought, people have died, and despite me thinking I was someone who would help, I did nothing." He sighed and closed his eyes, dismissing his blade.

Rym walked a little closer to Bookwyrm. "Isn't it freeing, in a way, though?"

Bookwyrm met Rym's eyes, confused.

"Think about it. Before, your entire self belonged to someone else. Now that you know you're someone different, you can act as you will. As your own person. Isn't that a blessing, in the end?"

Bookwyrm was quiet. "....Perhaps."

Rym pulled the Plotblade of Unity from it's makeshift scabbard on his back. "Avatar is still out there."

"I know."

"He's going to do something if we don't stop him."

"I know."

"And I can't do it alone." Rym walked in front of Bookwyrm and faced him. "You're a Narrator. And you're Bookwyrm. And even if you don't know who that is quite yet right now, you can still do things to help. It's not too late."

Silence fell for a spell again.

Then: "You're right."

Bookwyrm stood up.

"I have to do something."

Rym smiled. "That's what I'm looking for."

"See if you can find Found the Kitten," Bookwyrm said. "He'll probably be able to track down Avatar. At least, I hope."

It was time to start acting.

***
Avatar felt a sense of resolution come through the bond, after so much time of silence. He grinned.

"So, dear Narrator...you've decided to wake up. Let's see if it lasts..."