Thaidakar the Ghostblood

The buzzing stopped suddenly. A fire crackled warmly in one corner of the room, two high backed chairs facing it. However, Platypus could see the very top of someone's black haired head peaking over one. There was a feeling of sickness in the room, a magical sort of sickness. The kind that one can feel echo in their soul. "Welcome, my friend." Power shifted in the room. The fire still seemed to crackle, but it was as black as the night. "Have you come to kill me?" The voice seemed to come from all around Platypus. Two dark red masses of light, akin to eyes, flickered into being, staring unblinkingly at Platypus. They shed light on the high backed chair. The door shut with a bang, melting into the wall until there was no sign that there had ever been a door into this sealed room. The chair spun in the shadows, revealing in the red light a corpse slumped there. Thaidakar. Laughter filled the room to the brim then quoted instantly. "Kill me then," The voice said once more, Darkness's. "Kill me. Kill my bodiless soul, Luxsprite." The corpse was lifted into the air, surrounded by eerie red and black smoke. Purple sparks flickered around it. "I once had strings... but now I'm free! There are no strings on me!" Welp, idk if I can actually make myself make it more creepy than that. We'll see.

The buzzing grew louder and louder. Each hallway that led to the rest of the floor got stranger and stranger. One was filled with floating objects, another had stacks of glowing green cubes lining the walls. One of them even had a tapestry of TLT's early history in it, extending into infinity it seemed. It kept going and going, the different floors, until... Platypus would come upon the end of the stairs. There was a long hallway with slanted walls. There were no doors on either side, nor decorations except a flowing purple and black smoke, moving in tendrils towards a door that Platypus could barely be able to see in the distance, slightly opened. A shadow moved away from the door, causing a flicker of the dim light. The buzzing was loud and frantic now.

That is a long break, but understandable. I joined in 2021, was active for a bit, then went inactive, then came back later in the year and went inactive for a brief spell last year.

got it. As platypus neared the top, the clutter grew more... frenzied in its arrangement. There were more doors with odder carvings in them. With each step Platypus took, it seemed that a buzz grew in his ears, especially when he turned towards where the room upstairs was.

To Platypus' mind, the space of the mansion would feel warped by Narration and Plot, especially in the highest room of the mansion, five floors up. There was something... off about it to the Narrator's senses. It was wrong in some way for some reason.

Platypus would appear in the front hall of the place. It was a long wide room with dark pillars on either side. Rugs hugged the floor for dear life. Flames flickered from torches on the walls, but they were few and far between. Bookshelves clutched the sides of the room between the pillars where there weren't any doors, which there were many. Between the walls there was an assortment of more shelves, couches, victorian statues, and other things. There was a main hallway in between the madness of the hall, which was where Platypus was. There was a large Victorian staircase at the end with a grandfather clock on either side, leading up into the endless eternity of the rest of the house. It was empty of all life, to Platypus' eyes. at least, for now it was. There was a scattered pile of glass on the floor which suggested that there was, in fact, someone who had been here at least fairly recently, however there was a layer of dust on the glass. And, in fact, there was dust on most of everything, except the clocks and the books directly.

It sounds like neither. Just some high pitched ethereal voice.

I'm ready. A bright purple wisp of a something slipped through reality to the space directly in front of Platypus. A voice slipped out of it, "The way is clear." The wisp disappeared in a puff of shadows, leaving an impression in Platypus's mind that he could now travel to Thaidakar's mansion.

Tired. Oh so tired. Spook, son of Thaidakar, servant of himself, stood atop the end of the world, the power of Hell in one hand and the power of Heaven in the other. Or, in other words, the traitorous scumbag held a Plotblade in one hand, a Narration blade that shouldn't have been his, but it was, in the other. Which was which, he wondered. Once, he would've had an answer. Now... there was little that was truth anymore. What was right and wrong when truth became lies and lies became the truest experience anyone could have? He was close, he knew he was. He could taste it in the air, in the feel of the Plot threads around him. Those ever beating hearts that pushed TLT closer and closer to order. Spook wanted order in his life. For once, he wanted things to be how they inherently should be. Yet... there was no such thing as something having an inherent should be. This was TLT, after all. This was the place of randomness, the home of misadventures. Then it began. He watched as, in the distance, a shape moved, lifting a weapon ever so slightly higher. They would fire it soon, hitting one of the guards who was guarding Spook's prisoner. The others that were to rescue the hostage were going to arrive soon. His informant had assured him on this. Spook readied the blades between his fingers with his mind, sharpening them, showing them his intentions with them. He felt the wait of Darkness' words in his minds as they twisted in him, showing him different visions of the future, different paths for him to walk. The new Narrator hated every one of them. They were all shrouded in shadows, all different levels of evil. When presented with such a choice, what was one to choose? Spook found that he could only pick the lesser evil of them all. The least horrifying. The one where the least amount of pain was caused. At least, that's what he told himself. Silence gave him cover. But it wasn't the ordinary sort of silence that comes in the dead of night when one is tight between one's covers. No, this was the silence made by the forest. The natural kind of silence that comes when a hunter is stalking its kill. The wrong sounds are what ruins it. As is a complete lack of sounds. You have to get it just right to convince the prey of the complacency of the situation. then you can pounce with relative ease, make them think everything is completely normal when that could only be far from the truth. Micheal wasn't hunter, nor prey. Micheal was the one who would get what he wanted in the end. if he didn't, then he would at least die trying to get justice for Lindy and his son. And, to do that, he needed to get as many of Shadow's brothers from Darkness. So far, they had gotten 15 of the thousands to safety. It wasn't enough. Darkness already had hundreds if not over a thousand. All killed in his animalistic rituals. Micheal had seen videos of it, taken by spies in the crowds. Mythos had been present at each one, captured and forced to watch it. Mythos was one of their next missions. How long until Mythos too was sacrificed? Micheal almost squeezed the trigger then, unleashing the bolt upon one of the guards, killing them instantly. But, no, not yet. Soon, but not yet. It felt wrong, but everything had been feeling that way lately for Micheal. He once would've done his best to not kill anyone. Those days were over. Now he was going to wait until the signal and fire on command. Now, Micheal was going to do his best to get himself into the position where he could stab the corpse of the man who he'd named his son after. "Micheal." He pressed the button on his wrist, "Yeah, Shadow?" "It's time. Kill the guards." Micheal nodded, raised his gun slightly and started to pull the trigger, tight as a gear, A shot fired. The alcohol drained down Darkness's throat and he set the shot glass gently on the counter as he made his way towards the prisoner, laying on the ground, chained to the wall. "Mythos." The man, head down, hair descending over his ears, didn't look up to his captor. He groaned, "Darkness... you will pay for what-" He was cut off as a knee slammed into his nose. "I will not pay you, Valerian," Darkness spat. "You are a pitiful king that lacked vision. You were never a real ruler, you were the prophesy's puppet, the priests' puppet... As I was." Black smoke gathered around Darkness' cruel fingers. White misting fingernails extended from Darkness' fingers. "I will not make the same mistakes again, Valerian, King of the Dungeons. You are mine, Mythos. You were always mine from the beginning. You always will be mine." He turned from Mythos. Mythos didn't move, gritting his teeth. Blood seeped from his nose. And yet he stayed there, not moving, the chains holding him as tight as ever. It was a pitying sight, the former king of a lot of TLT on the edge of sobbing, brought to his knees by his former servant. Mythos took in deep breaths, trying to keep in his emotions from bubbling to the surface. He needed to have a hold on himself, as all kings must. That was one thing he remembered from his former life, the life that Darkness had been a part of. That Shadow had been a part of. Finally, he whispered raggedly, "Leave me, priest. I have work to do." "Your lordship needs his servants?" Darkness mocked. "Get a grip, Valerian. The days of kingship in TLT are long gone. There is no such thing as a true ruler anymore. Look around you! This is chaos! Only those who truly escape the lens of Narration can truly live as a lord. You, my old friend, the one I regarded as a son, you are a fool. An old fool who knows less of the truth than anyone else. I know who you are, I know it all. Yet you still rebel. "Fool, I call you; and duly noted that title is. You strive to ignore it, yet you know that, deep within you, you are, indeed, a fool. Mythos the fool, Mythos the coward. Where is Valerian? He has fled. The days of kings are gone, Mythos." The old being knelt down before Mythos, halfway from the ground. "The days of heroes is soon coming to a close and so you will die. But not yet," Darkness said, raising a finger, "Not yet. You wonder why I still come, you think that I must have some sort of depravity, a need for attention from someone. I'm here because I want you to know it all. You deserve that much, you light blinded fool." Mythos didn't move for a long time. It was an hour after Darkness left when he finally took in a long shattering breath. Darkness did this every day, that same demented speech with a few words different, a few phrases added on. He'd long given up on trying to bring Mythos to his side, but Mythos knew he would try it again and again until he got Mythos in the place he wanted him to be. Hopefully, by then, he would be rescued by whoever was left. Platypus, Spook, the Shadows, the once author maybe, perhaps one of those new people, or... even Nameless. That last one seemed unlikely, but still... Mythos could hope. He could dream that someone would save him before he inevitably fell to Darkness' level of evil. But, until then, Mythos had to hold on and keep himself from it as long as he could. He was still part withergiest somehow, and that helped him, but it reminded him more of Darkness. Darkness had put that part of him there in the first place. Somehow, Mythos would survive. And, eventually, he would find a way to kill Darkness. Somehow. Rond lifted the dagger, looking down its long silvery surface, seeing the glinting firelight reflected upon it from the braziers Darkness so adored. He'd done this every night, gazing at the blade, hefting it in his hands, asking himself if he would do the deed and end it all. It might be better that way, after all. Killing himself would mean that no-one would have to deal with him again and, perhaps, he would be able to wash his hands clean of the deeds Darkness had had him do. The high priest sighed, setting the blade on the bench beside himself. "Not today," he whispered softly. "Not yet... not yet..." He stood, leaving the dagger there, sitting in the firelight. Rond had a meeting to get to. Half an hour later, Rond entered a small round room with a similarly round table in the middle of it with chairs all around it, each one (excepting one at what was considered the head of the table) was filled. Each seat contained one of Rond's fellow conspirators among Darkness' priesthood. This was the group, if any, that would fell darkness' horrid reign once and for all. If not them, then they would at least assist whoever did in the best way they could from the shadows. Each hooded figure nodded as Rond sat down at the head. Rond cleared his throat and the quietly talking group hushed what was needed. "Welcome, my friends," Rond said, taking in a breath and smiling, "to the third official meeting of the Eclipsed Ones." And the meeting began. Rond breathed in deeply, seeing them begin their discussions about various plans to shift the dynamic of the Priesthood. This was his people. Perhaps, with them, he would get revenge and finally be able to stab Thaidakar in the chest. Or, at least, a version of him. The Narrator deserved that at the very least for what he'd done to Rond. This was his fault, he'd tricked Rond into believing he was someone else. Rond would get his revenge. Someday.

Sammeee. Fadran is awesome. I hope he comes back.

hmm... that's true. Understanding and knowledge fit that more. Intelligence, perhaps, is the capacity to gain knowledge and understanding, then.

"GUYS I FIGURED IT OUT I’M A STALKER" - @Ookla the Believer

We knew that one the whole time-

No, no, a nerd is someone who is obsessive over something, check, is at least a little socially awkward, and has intelligence. Someone can be intelligent and know only something about one subject. For example, I'm intelligent when it comes to giving advice about writing, but I am not intelligent about actually sitting down and writing (unless it's roleplaying, then I'm slightly above unintelligent). For another example: You're intelligent. You're a nerd. Live with it- Join our ranks!! If you don't and you only fit obsession and slightly socially awkward...

ahhh. I didn't realize it ever looked different, but I mean that makes sense now that I think about it.

Before, as it only notified you for status updates, it wasn't as creepy as you are putting it. The goal of following someone is mainly to see their status updates. Instead of in notifications, however, it can go to a stream which you can set up for only seeing the status updates of those you've followed. The reason why people have all the notifications on is that they want to be able to get the notifications for the SUs and are willing to go through all those notifications. At least, that's what I've seen. Someone might be doing stuff like you described. However, I don't think it's as big a problem as you're putting. It may be weird that they're wanting to see every post you put out, but there could be a few reasons as to why. For example, you're one of the big theory responders and someone might just really like the way you respond to those, so they follow you and get notified for each time you respond to stuff, including to theories. Do you see what I'm saying?

He is done. That was just a gag cameo, not an official appearance.

Elend. Books, logical discussions, and he knows his way around being a leader? Heck, I would love to have him as a roommate. My second pick is Adolin.

wow The site must've been a lot different back then.

"Language, captain." In the afterlife, Thaidakar burst out laughing.

"Yeah, though it's loads spicy."