NameIess

Malevolence looked past Fog to the mountain's peak. "Of course." His eyes flickered toward her, and a frown crossed his face. Malevolence began his ascent up the mountain. At this lower section, he was able to walk upwards, taking a winding path past jagged stone outcroppings. Occasionally he reached steep sections where he had to grab handholds for stability, but for now the climb was easy. "It have been thinking about what you said to me earlier." He said abruptly. "When I told you that I was better in every way. You were right. It was childish of me to claim that. Evil should not make claims, evil should prove them. And so, if you wish it, I will tell you where I have hidden the Lost Page. Give you a fair chance to prove me wrong." They are at the mountain where the Witherlord was first summoned, and where long ago (around page 1000 I believe) the last Luxsprite Xinoehp fought the Witherlord.

Malevolence stood in the middle of the party, and felt... melancholy It was a time for celebration, yes, but there was sadness in his anticipation. This was something like a send-off ceremony. For soon he, Malevolence, villain, evil genius, and seeker of darkness, would be dead. Reborn, yes, but not the same. Malevolence moved to check Darkseeker once more, then stopped. He stood there, hand frozen halfway to Darkseeker's hilt, and knew. It is time. Malevolence looked around the room at the partiers. They seemed... alive. Happy. Although in Ribbon's case, he doubted she would be for long. Even he could not help but find... disdain for that relationship. His sense of pride rebelled against it. To be so self-debasing as to sacrifice half of your power for the hope of... a date? Surely this was the weakness of good revealed. The weakness of the emotion known as 'love'. Malevolence looked within himself. Was there any part of him that was not committed? He thought back to a conversation he'd had with Cricket's friends. Was there any point in friendship? Was love worth it? Did the path of good truly offer something the path of evil could neither explain nor supply? No. No, there was no part of Malevolence that regretted the path he'd taken. But there was a part of him that regretted what he would give up. To become the Witherlord would require sacrificing almost everything Malevolence had made himself to be. His inventions would become obsolete. His plans for total dominion of everything, plans he'd been making since before making himself known to the Thread, would be discarded. Even his personality, his mind, his being would be changed so utterly that he would not truly be the same person any longer. Malevolence quietly stepped from the room, unnoticed by his guests. He walked down a side hallway, passing rooms filled with evil experiments. Half-finished drones incorporating the fundamental metals into their chassis. A new suit of Nullite armor, with an improved alloy and moving pieces that would create unpredictable gaps through which to wield Darkseeker's powers. A few witherrabbits in cages. Malevolence stepped onto a hovering metal disc, which skipped him forwards to his massive hangar, where several warships were being built. Powered by Prismite drives, he'd planned to use them in a campaign against Rebus's empire. He passed by unfolding sophons and experimental low-dimension prison cells. Malevolence passed by further experiments, weapons, and plans in a blur. Everything he'd gathered, everything he'd fought for. And the secrets he now held in his head outweighed them all. His metal disc set down at the room he'd been looking for. Security and Prime teleportation control. Malevolence stepped inside, then deftly teleported his entire base away from the room the uninvited guests were partying in. He did it in stealth mode, without lightning. Finally made that breakthrough. Thought he. So much effort, and it ends up only being useful to keep some partying annoyances from noticing anything's wrong for a few moments longer. He hovered his finger over the self-destruct button, intending to destroy all he had made. The Witherlord would be a fresh start. But then he hesitated. He moved his hand away from the self-destruct, instead moving over to the main security terminal. Malevolence worked quickly, repairing the bypassed security systems and setting the base into lockdown. It would teleport multiple times per second according to a set algorithm which would be almost impossible to decipher. Perhaps some enterprising villain after me shall find this place, and be aided on their path. He thought, ignoring the fact that there would be no villains after him if his plans succeeded. Malevolence closed his eyes. The feeling he'd felt back in the party had only grown stronger. It was time. Time to begin the ritual. He set his polka-dotted party hat down on the control panel, and gathered what he would need for the ritual. Darkseeker, in a sheath at his side. A personal teleporter. A box with a screen on the top, equipped with a teleporter designed to pierce through interference. A few of his favorite gadgets, but nothing too flashy. It felt... wrong to rely wholesale on technology and tricks for this final trial. Evil should be able to triumph without tricks. Besides, if more was needed, he could always fetch it by teleportation. Malevolence tapped a few buttons on the box, and it vanished. He considered contacting Charnyx and Rebus, but they would doubtless notice his actions soon. With that, he teleported to the Place of Darkness. He appeared at the foot of the mountain. Perhaps he should have gone straight to the top. Rebus likely would have done so. But again, this felt right. He would climb the mountain, as part of his final test. He looked up at the trial before him. It was a jagged thing, with peaks and crags. There was certainly a sinister air about the place. And yet... it seemed to Malevolence to be too calm. The sky was blue, with hardly a cloud in sight. Surely, if such a momentous event as the summoning of the Witherlord were to take place, it should be at least raining. As if on cue, lightning split the blue sky, striking the mountain's peak. Clouds swirled into existence from nowhere, a whirlpool in the sky. Rain, and hail fell in sheets. Lightning struck again and again. Oddly, Malevolence noticed, the epitome of the storm was not at the mountain's peak. It was centered on him. With a smile on his face, Malevolence started up the mountain. @xinoehp512 @DragonHeir @Through The Living Glass @TwinStorm Malevolence was not present. It seemed he'd slipped away, taking his party hat with him.

Not broken, just typing up a long post. I appreciate the Bacon energy. Bacon energy is old days TLT energy.

Malevolence glanced at her. “Please, spare me the pain of your presence.”

Malevolence did not reply. Well, he’ll need to wait for three Authors to reply before he can finish the ritual. I have questioned. Do not think that I have not, simply because I have found the answers. Malevolence is too suspicious to go along with it. And also too close to his ultimate goal to bite at any possible reward.

Malevolence opened his mental mouth to reply, then closed it again. It would be, he decided, more evil to allow Ribbon her delusions than to try to manipulate her using the unhealthy nature of her ‘relationship’ with Fog.

I do not require the Witherlord’s power. I require his evil. I know the goal I should seek, but I do not yet have the strength of character to do so. I question, and am weak. yeah, he isn’t that deep. A villain who views evil as traditional heroes view good. To answer your earlier question, perhaps tonight or tomorrow.

Malevolence shrugged. “I merely speak from my own experience. Listen or do not.” You cannot. But I understand why you believe you could. And as I said, Evil is not about power. What is the point of power if you have not a goal? Evil gives the goal. Malevolence transmitted a sound somewhere between a sigh and a gag. My apologies. I see that you actually enjoy being used and abused by an uncaring monster. Open your eyes. Fog has only ever stolen your power and manipulated you into doing her will. She cares not for you, nor ever will unless she is changed.

Malevolence eyed her back. “Only if it is not true.” he glanced at Darkseeker again. It was now a short sword with a single edge. ”I would advise you to go ahead and make your move. In all my time as a villain, I have never accomplished anything by waiting around. Action and courage are required.” Because power can only be used to reach goals. Evil gives the goal, and the means to reach it. Malevolence picked up the pearl and placed it in his pocket. If I failed to claim the Witherlord, then I would rather die than use this pearl. It would only enslave me to whoever had claimed it.

“Because I am better than you.” Malevolence said flatly. “I am more experienced than you. I am more intelligent than you. And I am more evil than you.” Evil has no limitations. Evil is the pathway to power. Without evil, all power is useless. Malevolence put the pearl into a scanner to determine its properties.

It is only foolish to those who are not truly evil. Your offer is meaningless to me, and so I will not offer any information meaningful to you, regardless of how worthless it may be to me. "Of course you are. Watch for weakness, for the location of the Pages. It will not work, of course." Fog could find nothing. She could see dimly Malevolence's thoughts, guarded though they were, and his recent memories. But when she looked for the location of the pages, all she saw was a blank darkness.

"Because you have no other reason for coming either than to attempt to steal the Lost Page," Malevolence said calmly. "Or to offer your aid. Since you have not done one, it seems you are likely here for the other." Malevolence merely shook his head, idly activating antigravity stabilizers to prevent any of the more delicate devices from being damaged by the black hole. Oh yeah, the ocean thing. Well really, that wasn't Omen's fault. Meat the Minstrel is the one who took him there. You mistake me. I do not want to control the Witherlord safely. I want it to warp me, change me utterly until I am the most evil being to ever live. And I know very little of the Mindscape, so you'd be better off with someone else.

Malevolence shrugged. "I am simply making small talk, as you flounder around trying to make me lower my guard."

"Avoiding redemption arcs is easy." Malevolence said with disdain. "Only those not fully committed to evil are vulnerable to them. And do you even know how withergeists can be cleansed?" Malevolence rolled his eyes. "Using Cricket's nickname will get you nowhere. I am beyond petty jibes and namecalling." He frowned. "Were you present when that name was first christened?" Rolled up inside a Nullite cylinder, hidden in a place only Malevolence knows.

"He can be beaten." Unintelligible said firmly. "Narrators have died before. Rebus merely splits himself to the point that doing significant damage is very difficult. But that also should leave him weaker, at least in terms of raw Narration." "Bitter? I am merely amused." Malevolence's eyes glittered sinisterly. "Now that I have the pages, all the lesser villains are crawling from the woodwork. Looking up at I, who has ascended higher on the mount of evil than any other." He grinned. "You hope that I shall stumble, but even if I fell, you would have to make the climb yourself. And I doubt you are up to the task." Me? I am not a withergeist, Ribbon. I am human, for now still capable of love. I merely choose to despise love as the weakness it truly is. But know this: Fog cares nothing for you. Because of her nature as a withergeist, it is impossible for her to care for you. I know this for a fact, and can prove it by her own words. He let that last sentence hang in Ribbon's mind for a moment. And I am also the only one who can heal her. Malevolence's eyes narrowed. "Is that a promise? You, Dr. Rebus Honesty Clarke will swear to aid my plans to become the Witherlord? To not interfere or attempt to claim the Mantle for yourself unless I should first fall?" Lyric followed, humming to himself. "Do you know who or what 'Plot' is? I cannot say I've ever heard of him before." -- "That is... very bad." Unintelligible said. "Where will he carry out the ritual?" Malevolence was determined to do this on his own, without allowing every secretive villain to tie strings around him that would be impossible even for the Witherlord to cut free.

“Watch then, as I descend in glory to the depths of darkness you could never even hope to aspire to.” Malevolence said spitefully. “Despite your advantages in nature, you are still filled with weakness.” The Dreamsmith watches him go with a reserved expression. “I doubt much,” he whispers, “that we will have that opportunity.” Then he turned to his work, and to thoughts of days long past. Excellent. My question is this: are you aware that Withergeists are incapable of love? Malevolence looked up from examining Darkseeker. It was in the form of a one-handed sword now, and he slung it at his waist. “Very well.” He said grudgingly. “My base is compromised, so I shall accept your offer. However, know this.” He looked pointedly at Charnyx, then at Fog as he spoke. “The ritual to summon the Witherlord cannot be completed by just anybody. Charnyx, know that I do not lie when I say this: even if I gave you the pages, you could not use them. The same goes for you Fog. The Witherlord mantle must be earned. You have not earned it, and truly, I do not believe any capable of earning it besides myself.” He glanced at the frozen Rebus. “And the Antagonist over there, I suppose.” @DragonHeir

Hello. Malevolence transmitted back. Can I ask you a question? "In that case, I shall name it Shadowlight. A bit cliche, but accurate. The Dreamsmith tapped his finger, and the name was engraved on the pen. "It will gather ambient Chaotic Light and Ordered Darkness, allowing you to create with one end and erase with the other. I will warn you that the O.D. end will not fill nearly so quickly as the C.L end, as it permeates the Thread much less commonly." The Dreamsmith frowned. "Perhaps these acronyms are not very good. Anyways, I've also done my best to expand the inkwell, so even with the split capacity it should be able to hold more than before." The Dreamsmith gestured to a sliding switch on the side of Shadowlight. "In a pinch, you can flick this switch to actively draw energy from your surroundings. That could have negative effects on both you and your surroundings, but if you stab the pen into something, it should draw from that first before moving on to other sources." He shrugged. "Sorry for the long explanation, but... I think this pen is cool. Anyways, the door is behind you. I wish you well on your journey."

"Very well." The Dreamsmith picked up the pen and closed his eyes. "Every tool needs three things: Power, Form, and Name." "This pen has Power already, formed of metals fundamental." The Dreamsmith set the pen down on his anvil, then reached into a pocket on his apron. "This pen has Form already, but as function changes, so shall form." The Dreamsmith pulled from his pocket a four-pointed medallion, holding it just over the pen. There was a burst of light, followed by a rush of darkness. When it passed, the pen on his anvil was much changed. Lines of white and black swirled along its surface, and it now had a two nibs, one of purest white, the other of darkest black. "As Form and Function change, so too must the Name." The Dreamsmith examined his handiwork. "Do you think 'Writer of Lights and Shadows' works? Or is it too unwieldy?" If you want, the Dreamsmith could keep them separated in the same body when they leave. Or he could merge them back together as they leave. "I understand it all, or so I believe." Malevolence said. "I have long studied the ways of darkness, the ways of the Witherlord." He raised a finger. "However, if I am wrong and cannot carry out the ritual, then I shall show you the page and accept your aid." Take your time. Malevolence raised an eyebrow. "Hello. Come to your senses and decided to offer me aid?" He pressed a few buttons on a nearby control panel. "Now that Rebus is here, it seems just about anyone can show up. I'll have to move my entire base of operations."

Malevolence was not surprised. Lots of people were interested in his actions lately. The Dreamsmith ended his examination with a nod. "Very well. I shall reforge the pen to be more effective. Are you ready for me to begin?" I may or may not have a document filled with my current theories and ponderings on the topic. (not a very big one yet) I believe I theorized the range of Fog's origin to be between page 2859 and page 3062, although I can't remember my justification for that now and I didn't write it down. I know for certain (unless Glass was wrong) that Fog is older than Malevolence, so pre page 3223. I also know that she interacted at least once with Stone, Cricket's brother, and multiple times with Cricket. Fog is not Tam, Ciara, Mist, or Utility. "They can do a great deal if they kill me before the ritual is complete." Malevolence said dryly. "You may not. I alone will see the page, and I alone will carry out the ritual. The only help I ask of you is protection while the ritual is in progress, and aid in reaching the place of ritual if it is protected by the forces of good."

The Dreamsmith examined Inkwell's soul, looking for interesting traits or compositions. Inkwell is bound to Futility, yeah? Meaning the inksteel is bound to him? Also, does he have any unusually high concentration of any of the fundamental energies? Chaotic Light or Ordered Dark specifically? Yeah, searching through all the pages for clues will take forever. Do you happen to have any TLT information stored from pre-scraping ban? (Not a programmer so that might be not how it worked, but if you do have records it might be easier to search through than loading all the pages from back when Fog's secret identity supposedly existed in a manual search) "Of course. How much protection can you give me? I warn you, Bacon the Bard, Ookla the Unintelligible, and others may try to prevent us."

"Nothing." Malevolence said truthfully. "I have everything I need. If you want to help, just stay out of my way." -- "Very well!" Lyric scribbled down a new entry: 4397: Jack and I decided to go to the temple of Plot to discover life's secrets. We decided to save the dragon-lord Intridole and the Dreamsmith for later. "Very well! Shall we venture onward?" -- Unintelligible folded his arms. "Do you know when he'll try to summon the Witherlord?"

Malevolence raised an eyebrow. "Really? How, precisely, are you going to help me?" "Indeed!" Lyric closed his eyes and searched through his memories. "Hm... the Priests of Plot are said to hold all answers to the questions of life. Or we could search out the Dragon-lord Intridole. Or... oh, yes, quite recently, a passing traveler mentioned the name of one called 'the Dreamsmith', who is purported to be quite wise." "The Witherlord?" Unintelligible looked straight at Rebus. "Have you claimed the Lost Page? Or was it Malevolence?"

Helps that I'd been combing through the old pages looking for clues to Fog's secret identity. "He shall. But he may gather a sizeable coalition against me." Said Malevolence. "And I would appreciate aid while I carry out the ritual." "Well, that's what I normally do: Forge a weapon from your soul. Let me see the makeup of your soul, and then I will tell you what I suggest. Hold still for a moment." The Dreamsmith closed his eyes, and reached out to examine Inkwell's soul. Indeed. And soon, I will be able to control you directly, if I should so wish it. So I would be more wary of angering me, were I in your position.

His old device would have done that, but this one is specifically tuned towards withergeists and the like.

Found it! Page 2964, last post Close. Chaotic Light, of which Prismite is the solid form. The Dreamsmith frowned. "I am... familiar with them." He rubbed his shoulder absently, blacksmith's apron revealing a scar of greyed flesh that ran down his right arm. "They are dangerous both to wielder and foe." He eyed Futility. "You know of the Blade I made for Malevolence. Know that his Blade is not a boon. It has only drawn him to greater evil, though it carries the potential for redemption. Indeed, I made it hoping..." The Dreamsmith looked down at his anvil. "Suffice it to say, I will not make such a Blade again. Even if I would, it would not aid you against the Witherlord." The Dreamsmith extended a hand, and a misty image of a Mordite blade appeared in it. "Withergeists, at least the more powerful of them, can control Mordite to an extent. However, a well-forged Blade can resist their efforts. With the Witherlord... no forging or alloy can resist him. He holds total dominion over all Chaotic Darkness, all Mordite, all withergeists. Beware, Inkwell. Futility will be useless against him." An indistinct figure appeared above the Dreamsmith's hand, grasping the Mordite blade. "The Narrator Nameless once battled the Witherlord with a Mordite blade. With the aid of the Skeins, survivors from the days of the Luxsprites, he brought the Witherlord to his knees. Helpless and chained, the Witherlord could do naught to stop the blade from falling." He dropped his hand, and the images vanished into shadow. "But in the end, with Mantle's bearer revealed, Nameless found he could not bring himself to slay the friend he failed." Abruptly, the Dreamsmith picked up the Arcadian Pen. "I do believe I can modify this pen, or perhaps forge something like it." He examined Inkwell again. "It depends on your soul." Malevolence nodded to him. "Greetings. I am he who has ripped the Lost Page from Bacon's grasp, he who will be the Witherlord." He nodded to the side, where Rebus sat greatly slowed by the absence of his Author. "That is Rebus, the Antagonist and one most determined to stop me from this path."