xinoehp512

The Wanderer's breathing steadied. She opened her eyes. "Ow," she said. @Nameless

The man snorted. "I don't want to be rid of it. Just have it not embedded into my soul any longer."

Broken l1nes, the survey responded.

Slowly the wound in the Wanderer's chest healed.

A regrowth fabrial appeared.

Withergeists Withergeists are entities of chaotic darkness. Originally of the Void, they are enraged by the Light of existence. Their presence in reality is based in one goal; the destruction of everything. They make their way through the cracks in reality, taking form as incorporeal spirits that decay all that they touch. But existence in reality is painful for them, especially the light that fills it. In addition, most are no more intelligent than animals in their goals of destruction. This combined makes the weakest of their number no more dangerous than a plague of cockroaches or mice. Even most of the more powerful withergeists lack the cunning of man, making them simple to deal with once one has become familiar with them. The real danger, then, is not the withergeists themselves, but those who seek to use them. By bonding with a withergeist, mortals can gain a number of powerful abilities- including the ability to control other withergeists. Some take this power for their own gain; others believe that they can use it for good. All, however, eventually find their perspectives warped to align with the spirits that grant them their power. Inevitably, this power will destroy them, and their spirits will join the ranks of the withergeists. The Fallen The greatest and most powerful of the withergeists are the luxsprites who were corrupted by the Witherlord. When other withergeists see only a tower to be torn down, the Fallen see a stronghold for an army that will tear down a kingdom. A few of their number are: Erechon, former King of the Luxsprites, is adept at manipulating life- and death. Verdellia, former Queen of the Luxsprites, specializes in extending her ability beyond her original host. Adrastos, former Prince of the Luxsprites, has mastered creating dark reflections of existing energy systems. Naseir, once a great scholar, gives his hosts the knowledge to forge implements of shadow. The Fallen work to bring about the return of their master, a spirit more powerful than even they, known as the Witherlord. The Witherlord The moniker of "Witherlord" can refer to two things. First is the mantle of dark power that represents Chaotic Darkness itself. This mantle enjoys limited sentience but lacks consciousness, rendering it essentially impotent until it finds a host. These hosts also bear the name of "Witherlord", for they merge with the memories and knowledge that the Dark Mantle holds. It was the first bearer of the Dark Mantle that destroyed the luxsprites. It would not have stopped there, had it not been for the intervention of the Ennullers. They destroyed its host and trapped it in a prison inside of a prison, sealing it beyond the reach of any who might be tempted by the power it promised. Or so they thought.

The pen next to Moni was inexplicably blown by the wind.

It did not grant it perambulation.

Ellis felt a surge of confidence. She wasn't worth worrying about. There was nothing she could do, anyways.

Cynthia awoke to a colorless world. Walls, floors, ceiling, bed- all were formed from spotless white. She sat up, raising her hands in front of her face. They looked normal. It's just the room, then. That was a relief; she rather liked color. Where are we? she asked Cirrus. Your guess is as good as mine, he responded. I passed out when you did. Apologies, Cynthia replied. I will limit myself next time. Don't worry about it, Cirrus replied. I've never gotten knocked out before! It was fun. You should look around. Cynthia agreed. She was quite curious about her new surroundings. she walked over to her door and peeked out into the hallway. It wasn't very long. Across from her on the opposite wall were two doors each leading to their own room. At the end of the hall to the left was a bathroom, the door ajar. To the right the hallway opened up into a larger room. Cynthia decided to check out the door directly across from her first. She opened the door. For a moment, she wondered if she'd traveled in time- there she was, lying on the bed, in a room nearly identical to the one she'd been in moments before. Quickly she realized what it was: a clone of herself. She stared at it for a moment before leaving the room. At the end of the hallway was a kitchen leading into a dining room. To the left was what looked to be some sort of living room. Windows lined the walls, the first windows Cynthia had seen so far. They straddled a door leading outside. Curious, Cynthia went to investigate. The door opened easily, and she stepped out onto the balcony. As she took in the view, she stopped. The door she had just walked out of was one of many lining an enormous cylinder that stretched for thousands of feet both upwards and downwards. The air wasn't empty, either: it was filled with thousands upon thousands of flying people zipping back in forth in an elegant bustle. Entranced, Cynthia walked up to the edge to get a better view. "Careful," a voice said behind her. Cynthia spun around to see her father, Rekaerb, standing in a place he had most definitely not been a few seconds before. "It is perfectly safe," she assured her father. "I can fly. Even if I could not, I would simply return to a clone of myself if I were to perish." "Spoken as one who's never fallen off a skyscraper before," Rekaerb commented drily. "And yes, I did have Cerulean. Panic does strange things. Which, incidentally, is why I brought you here! Universe Hexagon, the safest place I know. You'll be able to practice your abilities here until you're a little more... adept." He meant until she could maintain control of more than one clone for an extended period of time. That was what had caused her blackout prior to awakening here - attempting to use multiple perspectives at once. Once she could do that, she could do what her father did and split herself across the multiverse to learn about everything there was, safe from death by sheer number of clones. But while cloning was undoubtedly the most powerful of her abilities... Cynthia felt her gaze drawn to the fleets of insectoid beings flitting through the air. "I see flying appeals to you," her father commented. "Yes," Cynthia replied, the sighed. "But I know cloning is more important." Rekaerb waved a hand. "Eh, you've had enough practice cloning. Go have some fun. Explore. Talk to some of the Hyxali, if any are up for a chat. One thing though - if you see any lizzardlike people, stay as far away from them as you can." "More than that - they're important. Remember Rule #1?" "Observe. Don't interfere," recited Cynthia. "You got it." Rekaerb nodded. "Go have some fun." Before he had even finished the phrase, Cynthia was airborne.

The man casually ejected a bolt of darkness from the gauntlet, blowing a hole in the wall.

This did not make it any better at spelling, unfortunately.

Count me in.

"He will not!" hissed Cupra.

The words afterglow briar appeared. An afterglow briar appeared.

"She will lead us from this prison and make us rulers of the land once again." "Attack!" Cupra hissed.

The survey desperately tried to create the words but got mixed up and created a pot of dirt on fire.

Really? From where?

There was a loud screech. A... thing descended from the sky, too fast for Xino to catch it. He shouted, flailing his hatchet about, trying desperately to get a hit in as he was sent tumbling across the ground. He felt the hatchet connect and felt a surge of triumph. The beast let out an alien cry and took off back into the air. Xino frowned as he watched it fly off. It didn't seem injured- but he was sure he'd hit something. Strange...

Words flashed. A water bottle. An apple. A pen. A vinyl record.

I'm trying to Narrate? I don't remember how...

The wanderer fell to the ground, breathing shallow. Letters flashed on the survey's surface. A few of them formed words: Red Cross. A red cross appeared and fell to the ground.

Ouch. I am assuming mordite was the goal. The wanderer made a soft gasp of surprise, her eyes glazing over.