DragonHeir

Rebus smiled kindly, eyes flaring with starless void. “Who better to practice against but the real thing?” The air around them began to crack, Mordite blades tearing themselves out from the Fabric of reality. “With what I’m trying to do, that’s not a bug; it’s a feature.” Rebus smiled. “But I want a copy of you, or at least the conduit, that I can alter without any side effects.”

Rebus nodded. - Rebus looked again at Afterimage. “Can you fork off a copy of yourself?” He floated out into space for a moment, then passed beyond the shielding and snapped away - indeed appearing with Rebus and Kai. - Rebus frowned at the house. “If someone lives there, they’ll be evil, helpful, or both.” Frowning again as Rebyl’s wounds, Rebus laid his coat over her shoulders. “Here. If you so much as wince, I can give you the Narration so you’ll feel better, alright?” - “Persistence is one of the things Rebus does best. Talk to him for too long, and you end up working for him.” - “I just used two different techniques. The first is the Narration of others - the Authors don’t like it, unfortunately, so it’s only ever useful when it doesn’t matter.” Rebus chuckled. “What I was demonstrating, however, is the potential of self-Narration. You can control your own actions, and that gives you much more power than simply destroying fruit.” “A place that will never be.” Rebus turned around, smiling calmly, and Cep could see that all his clothes were pure white - which made it all the more striking that his eyes were burning with darkness.

"Of course I do," Rebus said. "You can break the pen in half - one part has a teleporter and this speaker, and the other will make a simulacrum of you so nobody gets suspicious." - "Any substantial Narration will attract withergeists like a beacon, so I don't need the power anyway." Rebus took his coat off, using a little multitool to cut strips from the hem and sleeves. - "Isn't trustworthy?" Amoebus laughed ruefully. "Rebus would gladly kill everyone on this planet if he though it would benefit him." - Rebus just smiled, and lunged forwards again. Salt expertly wrapped her arm around the sword - careful not to touch the edges - and simply pulled it out of his hand. Rebus grinned. "You have no idea how to do that, correct?" Rebus nodded, not especially surprised to see the eldritch Author persona. - Rebus frowned. "That's unfortunate. But I suppose..." He trailed off. "Can you fork your being?"

He asked Corvus to sacrifice his powers, since the weapon he’s making will be forged from the cores of several Narrators.

"Oh no." Rebus's eyes snapped open. "Oh no." He was dying, and the Witherlord hadn't even had to do anything. If that wasn't so frustrating, it might have even been funny. Rebus reached out to the Thread at large, watching all that had happed. He had to hold on... just a little longer... "Of course. He's terrifying, and if it was anyone else, I'd do everything I could to avoid drawing his ire." Rebus frowned. "But since he wants to kill almost everyone anyway, I might as well be doing something about it." - Rebus smiled at Afterimage. "As you may know, I'm making a weapon against to use against the Witherlord. Would you happen to have any Luxite?" "Yes, actually. I have some of the materials I need already." Rebus smiled sympathetically. "If you're worried about what you'll do without your powers, I'm sure I could pull some favors and find new abilities you could use." Rebus smiled. "Good form." Salt really was a natural at Narration, letting them go straight from technique to tactics. As Rebus thought about it, he was rather glad that Atlas had- Rebus flared with power, and new Threads wrapped around the sword, cutting off whatever it was he had been about to think. Night was beginning to fall, and Rebus stood on the top of a mountain, white longcoat blowing in the wind as he looked out into the sunset. "I wasn't expecting visitors," he said, then calmly snapped his fingers. Space warped around him, dropping Cep - sword and all - into the vision. "You'll have to get away once you land, then. Good luck." - Rebus leapt to his feet in alarm, though he nearly fell over afterwards. "I can lend you some Narration - that'll distance your mind from the pain - though I'm already spread far thinner than I'd prefer. Has anything like this happened before?" - "That was fun, wasn't it? He was a real person, you know - I might even have let him go eventually." Amoebus's voice laughed in Leinard's ear. "Now, if you tell anyone I'm here, Rebus will probably lock you up forever, thinking that'll keep me trapped. You really don't want to be working for him anyway - he's about the third evilest person around." - Rebus smiled. "Good form - a lot of novice Narrators go out of the way to specify that they're Narrating, which detracts from the purpose." Drawing two swords - which of course had not been there before - Rebus tossed one to Salt, then immediately lunged at her with the second. Rebus's hand began to burn, excruciating pain radiating from the scar Redemption had inflicted. Rebus, however, simply gritted his teeth and deactivated the pain. "One apocalypse at a time, please. Unless you shall help against the Witherlord, I need a Blade." - Eep! Cursed Treasure, highly alarmed by the development, felt like it maybe should have been consulted on all this. Are you sure you even want me? Lezterp is pretty nice, and I'm, er, hard to use. @CoderDrag0n8

“I’m creating a weapon that can harm the Witherlord.” Rebus gave a slightly rueful smile. “Unfortunately, the best way to get the materials requires several Narrators to give up their powers.” The Narrationblade shifted, quillon morphing to catch the end of the blade. Rebus twisted it, attempting to wrench the sword out of Cep’s hand - and then lunged forwards, the sword abruptly disappearing as a dagger coalesced in his other hand. “Actually…” Rebus thought for a moment. “Perhaps you could jump.” - Rebus reassembled next to her, forming what remained of his shield. He didn’t have any burns, of course, but he groaned as he forced himself to sit up. “Are you alright, Rebyl?” - The lab coat man seemed pretty dead. Killing him had been rather fun, which was weird, all things considered. - Rebus smiled. “I’m glad to hear that.” Taking a deep breath, he summoned some of his borrowed power. He didn’t glow, or float, or even sound different - but he felt strong, becoming the fulcrum of reality he would have been if he hadn’t split his power into countless pieces. “Narration is an incredible gift and an immense responsibility. I believe you know that already, but understanding it is a different matter entirely. We’ll start simply.” Rebus was holding an apple, his classic demonstration of summoning. “Show me what you’ve already learned.” “You were screaming, primarily. I suppose I did ask after metal, so if you were one of the stranger Narrators it would make perfect sense.” Rebus smiled. “As I mentioned, I’m looking for help facing the Witherlord.” - Meanwhile, Rebus went looking for Afterimage. One of him not in the middle of a withergeist attack, preferably.

Rebus whistled - and then leapt forwards, his Narrationblade darting towards Cep's chest. Rebus glanced at Corvus. "Regardless of whether or not he ends up attacking Heaven, the Witherlord is a catastrophic threat. I need your help to prepare."

"Unfortunately, I don't know. I would use someone like the Great Wizard - or even Sequence - to bring enough corruption to the realm that it allows entry, but I doubt that will be the approach taken."

@xinoehp512 Onyx would perhaps notice that the multiverse lore had shifted dramatically - thanks to the collusion of some Authors, the number of worlds has become quite finite. Rebus, meanwhile, only got déjà vu - he'd been supposed to ask something else, but what had it possible been? - Meanwhile, on the ship, a particularly lucky withergiest reached some sort of crystal - after an alarmingly small amount of damage, it destabilized. An explosion rocked the vessel - and of course, every single other crystal. Or at least I think that's what happened. Neither party is really my worldbuilding, so... Rebus nodded. "I'm making a weapon to fight the Witherlord. That takes a lot of power. A-half-dozen-Narrators-sacrificing-their-magic levels of power." He summoned his projection of the weapon - a spike of Luxite flanked by Nullite and Prismite. "Pure Luxite would be easier, but it's so rare that the only reason I've gotten this far is Nameless's Conversion Medallion." Rebus smiled. "Hello, Kyler. I don't suppose you can get off that ship." - In that moment, the crew didn't matter to him - Rebus threw the Conversion Medallion to Rebyl, wrapping her in a bubble of Narration and nanotech. - The man seemed very dead - in fact, the wound burned with the telltale signs of a blow inflicted with Mordite. - Rebus blinked. "Indeed." Then he sighed, seeming almost on the verge of tears. "Before Atlas died, I'd been intending to teach her how to use her powers. Perhaps, if Fog was to fight Atlas after that time, she would be able to survive." He forced a smile. "We need all the Narrators we can get. Would you let me train you?" Rebus smiled, Abstraction fading into the background again. "You'd be more than a match against some withergeists, but until I get another core or two you won't stand a chance against the Witherlord. Hence-" Rebus summoned his Narrationblade, "you should spend this time practicing." "They aren't," Rebus said. "That's the only reason that he hasn't destroyed half that realm already."

Rebus stumbled, the shock of Atlas and Symbol’s deaths hitting him once more. Then he composed himself, standing straighter as he truly understood the situation. “You’re free of Cyrus now, as he won’t notice you’re gone for quite some time. We’ll need to contact your brother - he’s on Cyrus’s ship, with a clone of me.” - “Alright, the highest priority is to-“ The ship rocked, almost throwing Rebus and Rebyl off their feet. - Darkness glowed around Leinard’s hands as the man in the lab coat panicked. “Help!” - Rebus’s eyes widened. “One 9 16? 1 26 Fourteen. 26 1 20 21! 17 10 13 1 2313” Rebus returned the grin, the expression actually visible as the reality warping followed the weapon. “As long as the weapon is Abstracted, we can both possess it - there’s not time for me to finish it before it is needed. And, while me bringing it fully to reality would increase the powers, physical Balancium is… volatile.” “There are surprisingly many there - though that’s stalled at the moment. As for Heaven, all I know is that that’s its name, it shares an Author with Erryin, and you have to have had good intentions to enter.” “I’ve been trying to stop an apocalypse,” Rebus said, rather tersely. “I would ordinarily try to help you. At the moment, though, I’ll need something in return.”

“Excellent. In that case, we’ll proceed.” The weapon didn’t move, but it was suddenly in Cep’s possession. “With the world as it is, you should be able to bond it.” Rebus returned the nod, striding after him. - Rebus grinned, manipulative the Prismite crystals to block an errant blast of darkness. “I’d gladly tell you more after the withergiests are gone.” - “Ok! Fine. He- he went the other way.” The man stammered out the words as though Amoebus would hear him if he spent too long talking. “He threatened me. Said he would kill me unless I sent you the other way.” Choking back a sob, he slumped against the wall. “I’m sorry.” - Rebus’s smile warmed, and he started to return the hug. Then he tensed, pain and anger clouding his expression. Salt reminded him so much of Atlas. When Fog returned- Rebus shook his head, and lines of orange light coalesced around his hand. They sunk into his scars, locking away his emotions; pain, anger, grief - and tenderness. Rebus smiled. “I should have done that quite a while ago. Now, let’s find you something to do.”

“Kyler?” Rebus asked. “I won’t know for certain until I have my powers, but I suspect I gave him something to contact me with.” - Rebus smiled. “The Conversion Medallion. Nameless made it, long ago - it can change different kinds of magic into one another, like making a withergeist’s torso suddenly made out of Prismite.” - The man blinked, looking nervously down the hallway again. “It doesn’t really matter.” - Except… he wasn’t. In fact, the pathway of destruction simply ended at the hallway turned a corner, with a scorch mark on the wall. - Rebus blinked, taken slightly aback by the question. “There’s an apocalypse going on and most of my friends are dead.”

Rebus smiled. “I spoke to someone else in the same situation. Cyrus was threatening his family. But Cyrus left, and as soon as I get out of the Nullite I can take us away from him.” - “Don’t touch them,” Rebus warned. Then he swept the medallion through the withergeist, and its substance imploded into little wisps of shimmering colors. - “I am?” He took a deep breath. “I am. Yes.” He glanced nervously at the path of destruction down the hall. “I’ll be alright; you should go catch Amoebus.” “There’s a planet under attack as we speak, but the Witherlord is trying to invade some version of the afterlife.” Rebus smiled, and the world… shifted. It became almost like the Mindscape - simultaneously malleable and pure, a representation of the world and yet somehow realer than it. Rebus was at the epicenter, a nexus of schemes, power, pain, and hope. He was simply a name, and the thoughts that went with it - an abstract representation of himself. He smiled - and that was his essence, genuine pride intermingled with an ever-present mask - and brought the weapon to himself. Power, sacrifice, magic - chaos, order, and dark aligned as they should be, but most of all light. The medallion around Rebus’s neck - still Nameless’s, even now - mirrored it. The blade - which it was, or at least could be - was nearly as the Conversion Medallion was; each axis, bound together in a form that could master them all. Chaotic Darkness was missing - Prismite and Nullite flowed only into Luxite, would be twined around what would become a hilt. Rebus spoke, though the words didn’t need to travel through air to be heard. “Luxite dominates, and needs to, but there are two gaps within the form. The first, you will fill - your core will bring symmetry, and in turn the weapon will give you power. The second will be filled by the power of the Witherlord himself. If you would be corrupted, the weapon will take that dark power and be strengthened - for a time.” Rebus paused, silence stretching an indeterminate length under the influence of whatever power he was using, and smiled once more. “What do you think?” If Jack had not been made from metal, he might have blushed. He definitely did some stammering. “Not much. I’m not sure you remembered. You don’t have to tell me. You should probably write it down.” - Brought into existence by a flicker of Narration, a speck appeared. It orbited the planet, outside the shroud of darkness, and broadcast its coordinates back to its creator. Rebus smiled at Salt, though it wasn’t much more than polite. “I suppose that is true. Would you allow me to think?”

Rebus smiled more broadly, seeming genuinely proud of what he was creating. "A weapon made from Luxite could kill the Witherlord, of course. But the Fundamental Essences are more than simply building materials... Keying the weapon to your core could allow you to tap into magic that hasn't been seen in the Thread for a very long time." Jack's eyes widened. "You do?"

Rebus gave a small, grateful nod. "May I bond your core to what I have thus far?" Rebus slowly raised an eyebrow. "Are you perhaps being blackmailed?" - The Conversion Medallion snapped into being, chain wrapped around Rebus's hand. He chuckled, face absolutely devoid of mercy. And then the top deck was within the ship, reality paying absolutely no heed to the contradiction. @xinoehp512: that is of course Narration, and would leave them more-or-less in the midst of the withergeists - though any within ten feet or so would be where they were before, and need to leave and come back to encounter them. - The path of destruction left the ceiling, more shattered space forming a passage out into a hallway. Scorch marks still smoldering with darkness led the way to the left, while an out-of-breath man in a lab coat cowered in the other direction. With a flick of his wrist, Rebus's hand was empty - the core safe and ready for its conversion. Former Antagonist... Rebus thought, smiling at where 9/10 had been. "References to earlier points in the narrative of reality." Rebus waved a hand, indicating the Thread around him. "But that's not especially important at the moment - even now, the Witherlord is preparing to attack." Jack nodded - it was odd, as he thought about it. There was plenty of woods, and only sheer luck had led to him finding Lyric. "Do you remember anything not in the journal?" "There's an index of worlds, actually. Eventually, I'll find the one my 'daughter' came from," Rebus's smile - inexplicable infused with passion and pride - began to shift towards slyness. "The easiest way to do that is to find a parallel universe where I already succeeded."