DragonHeir

Rebus returned the nod. “Yes. A truce until some pressing matters are taken care of.” Rebus paused. “If you know a Narrator, why do you need to mine this planet?” - Rebus smiled, glad the hole in the side hadn’t caused problems. - Rebus looked into Rebyl’s eyes, and she could see tears within his. - Rebus, standing at the end of the gangplank, waved them forwards. - Not alone. Not anymore. - Rebus - or rather the as-of-yet unnamed clone of him - stabbed the syringe into his hand, right in the center of the burn scar. Nothing happened, of course. - Rebus nodded. “Good. We’re going to need a weapon against the Witherlord - Mordite won’t work on him.” Rebus saluted back, smiling. Jack snapped away, reappearing in Kimo as requested. Jack also blinked. “Wait, deities? Shouldn’t we be trying to give one, then?” I may or may not be deflecting the question because I haven’t thought of a name yet… - The clone cried out, his nanomachines - themselves succumbing to corruption - disabling pain receptors and weaving Mordite into flesh at a molecular level. Rebus had done this before, after all - though it hadn’t been with Chaotic Darkness. The clone fell to his knees, Mordite perforating every available surface. Atlas having disappeared, Rebus stood alone before the Witherlord. This was not a situation he wished to be in. “Eventually?” He sounded almost sheepish. “I would rather like to avoid the Thread’s destruction, considering I live here.” - @Aeoryi One mysterious bargain later, Rebus stepped out from the back of the workshop. He seemed less vibrant than usual - eyes devoid of reflection, no sign of residual Narration. He was, however, still smiling. “Hello, Ribbon. My condolences about your passing.” “It would be very difficult. Narrators, specifically are not allowed out due to the problems that would result - though your home would be one of the most compatible.” Rebus… nodded. “Yes. Until the Witherlord has been defeated, you may very well need the Blade. We can wait.” Another man, also in a mask and longcoat, appeared nearby with a muffled crack. This wasn’t entirely where he wanted to be, but I had been enough. This new strange man watched the first one, waiting to see if he was noticed. And then Rebus appeared, Narrationblade in hand, coat fluttering as he stepped between Atlas and Fog. The sword wasn’t the only weapon he’d brought - nanomachines absolutely filled the air. “Mordite is a tool, Fog. It’s deadly-” a figure materialized next to Rebus, visible for only a moment before the sonic boom- “but there are other options.” I’ll leave a moment for Fog to respond before the hypersonic robot hits her. @Keke

Rebus raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “You’ve never met your brother within the closest thing to reality you’ve encountered. Regardless, it is interesting development.” - Rebus sent utility fog throughout the ship, doing as the AI suggested and powering the ship on. He nearly snapped out of existence as the Witherlord shot at the ship, then watched with nervous anticipation as the projectiles changed course towards the actual people - and the crew. - “I made a deal.” Rebus bowed his head. “That I would bring about the summoning of the Witherlord. I had to…” -his voice broke- “I had to save Symbol.” - Rebus cut a hole in a hopefully-unimportant part of the ship, extending a gangplank made from utility fog. - “Getting yourself killed solves very little.” Rebus said, weaving through blades as he tried to reach Atlas. “If you did nothing to actually cause this, and you won’t do anything now, get out of here and actually prepare!” - RAFO - there was something important in that lab, and I don’t know if it’s still there. That was touching. Rebus took the antidote - presumably in a vial - and stood up, only to double over coughing. - Dax’s vision was briefly covered by a hologram of what Rebus saw: the Witherlord and all his terrible power, smiting a mountain as reality fell apart. In the middle of it all, like a candle in a hurricane, was Atlas - defiant and utterly foolish. “Balitan is dead, Dax - if you would like to be my head scientist, I could use your help.” Then Rebus turned to Jack. “I can get you equipment, upgrade you, put troops under your command. You matter - what do you need so that matters?” Rebus nodded, though that was perhaps the second most difficult location to reach in the whole of the Thread. - Rebus snapped into existence behind Bridge, hand humming with color. “PILOT,” he said, “the world is ending. How did you get to the Dreamsmith without a trial?” Jack cocked his head. “What do you mean? Most people would not have one.” - “I’m not quite Rebus,” said the clone, “but I do want to live.” He smiled - face cracking a little further - and the vial snapped out of existence. “My liege.” Rebus nodded. “Do you mean TwinStorm? Or is it more than that…” @Kansas Stormcursed Rebus sent another wave of utility fog, slamming Asharak off his feet. Except he didn’t. The utility fog decohered, losing any semblance of order as it scattered in every direction. Rebus laughed, slightly stunned. “Your timing is certainly unique. Have you noticed the world just began to end?”

Rebus stood, coat whipping in the wind. The Witherlord had returned from its long absence from the Thread, and Heir had returned from his shorter but far more frustrating leave. The Thread had changed greatly - not every response made sense anymore. Some of it would be talking to nobody, but Rebus would carry on. The world was ending, but that wasn’t the end of the world. Rebus raised an eyebrow. “You’ve never truly met a Narrator before.” “Malevolence’s motives make little sense. He exists to do evil, both philosophically and metafictionally.” Rebus shook his head. A mix of resignation, frustration, and curiosity briefly clouded Rebus’s perpetual smile. He nodded. “Tell me what you know.” “You were in the middle of speaking…” Jack frowned, then his eyes widened. “I think you just lost some memories. Write down everything you do remember - you’d just asked me if I knew who the Priests of Plot are.” Rebus pulled it off and read it; such a message bore signs of a Narrator or Author and was hence important, mildly annoying as its placement was. @Keke & @NameIess: From within the ship, Rebus took stock of his situation. Staying near the Witherlord was a death sentence, and while he barely knew his extradimensional daughter, he truly wished to keep her alive. Most of the others were unimportant, but Atlas was out there as well, somehow intending to challenge the Witherlord. Rebus split himself off into four copies - one remained below, preparing the ship (and remaining as safe as someone this close to the Witherlord could be), while the others raced above deck, urgently searching for Rebyl and instructing crew to prepare for escape. The last copy leapt from the ship, coat fluttering. He hit the ground and rolled, jumping back up to (unwisely) run towards the Witherlord. “Atlas! You’re going to get yourself killed!” - Meanwhile, in the Kimo Laboratory, there were two things of interest. One would be important later, and may not have been there at all. The other was Rebus, or rather a copy of him, strapped to a table and slowly dying of Mordite poisoning. His Narration was gone, but he looked up regardless - his corruption resonating with the Witherlord’s rise. “Interesting…” - Speaking of Kimo Laboratories, if Jack and Dax are still on that tour they shall witness the following. Everywhere across Rebus’s empire, Rebus appeared - thousands of copies, within earshot of every citizen. “The Witherlord has returned - and it isn’t me. This is a world-threatening event, and we shall have to acknowledge this threat.” He smiled, the expression grim yet hopeful. “Many of you may be afraid, for your lives or the lives you live. There will be an evacuation - the worlds on which you live will be consolidated, made mobile.” Diagrams began to play out, showing people moving to a small section of a planet, which then detached from the rest. “Many of you will also be resolute, for you wish to protect yourselves, your fellows, and the very Thread itself. I am mobilizing an army, and each of you possess something to contribute. Soldiers, officers, engineers, fuel - with technology, magic, and our bravery, we can make a difference in this fight!” “Those of you that wish to remain safe, follow the directions to evacuation. The rest of you, who wish to make a difference, remain where you are. What is not evacuated shall become what is needed for the fight!” Rebus smiled broadly, then disappeared, ending the announcement.

“A fellow scientist, I see. Were you responsible for the Narration suppressor?” - Rebus… for once, Rebus didn’t know what to feel. So within the cabin he simply waited. “That is to aid you.” Rebus said. Then he put out his other hand, and summoned Redemption. The Blade ( @TwinStorm) hovered within his grasp, not touching his hand. “And this is your reward.” - Rebus watched this, but did not stop it. “I’m sorry, Balitan.” He whispered. “You were a good partner.” - “It depends upon what you wish to do.” Rebus sighed. “But am letting this take its course.” - Rebus stood, a Plotblade in each hand, his coat billowing in the wind. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, and slammed the two Blades together. All at once, it was one Blade. The Blade of what, Rebus did not know - perhaps it would redeem those who were evil. Perhaps it would turn them to villainy. Perhaps it would even do both, a never-ending cycle of redemptions and betrayal. Rebus tossed the new Plotblade to Malevolence. “Have fun.” He said, smiling. And then, he disappeared.

“Neither.” Rebus said. “At least not yet.” “Did I say that?” “In part.” Rebus said. He put out a hand, and Antagonist materialized within it - the halberd form he used for fighting. - “Can, yes. Should and will are different matters.”

“Resigned.” There was little else to say.

A moment being mockingly patted was one not being vivisected, so that was fine with Rebus. “What do you want with me, then?” - Rebus nodded. “The collider is mostly complete, but I don’t have that chemical.” “The Witherlord has been banished before.” Rebus sighed. “Malevolence might bring about his own demise.” Mark hoped that staying within the center of the drawing was wise, but Futility seemed a worse hostage than anticipated. Rebus patched together a coherent conversation scene, although 9/10 had already departed. “That is entirely correct. In fact, I could argue that our goals are quite similar in many ways.” That’s a great question - I barely know. They can be constructed from just about anything, register as more-or-less alive, and involve a hand-wavy particle called an omnion. Unintelligible was correct on all counts. - Rebus started to respond, only to find Malevolence gone. He hadn’t truly known what he was going to say, but as he disappeared he had made up his mind. And so as Malevolence neared the top, Rebus was waiting there for him. He wore his old longcoat, which was buffeted by the storm. - Jack… did know. A little. “Something fundamental about the universe. My creator has talked about it.” - “A certain mountain. I can take you there - conflict may come before Conflict.”

“We’d be dead, or Withergiests, or hiding in other realities. It would be quite problematic.”

There legitimately was a villainy class a while back. “I’d been intending to dramatically spin around in a chair…” Rebus had reasons for converting 9/10mmHB#2’s name to micrometers, but as they didn’t make any sense he didn’t share them. “Malevolence believes in evil for its own sake. Quite frankly, it makes no sense - blind belief in ideals is a trapping of the good or short-sighted.” Rebus tugged, futilely, at the chains. “Where’s Evaiya?” he demanded, injecting desperation into his voice. - The stuff that fuels the portal. “Corrupting chemical” I believe you called it.

Rebus stayed unconscious longer than he should have. He groaned, groggy without nanomachines to wake him up throughly. Still, his powers weren’t what made him dangerous - he grinned at Cyrus, teeth bared and eyes sparkling. Rebuses being held hostage: 3. - Rebus committed the blueprint to memory, and set aside a fairly expendable planet on which to construct it. “I assume input materials are required to active at.” “I shall assist Charnyx; if you won’t allow me to, then I shall fight you.” - “Sure!” Jack walked back towards the forest so they could navigate. - “As soon as he can do what is required, I suspect.” Rebus smiled slightly, watching to see what would happen. Asharak’s plan was clever, and Rebus needed to find a weakness. Rebus continued to scheme, of course. He nodded to Charnyx, moving in bursts as his Author found bits of time to write. “Instructions to summon the Witherlord. If Malevolence can do so, he’ll likely use the power to try and destroy the Thread.” Rebus, on the other hand, believed the Blade compensated for lack of training but allowed cleverness and determination to decide the result of a fight. Rebus would indeed die, but it would be neither ordinary nor particularly impactful. Conflict could certainly stop his body from reforming, though. Rebus smiled - it seemed disabling the security system had let in practically every villain-adjacent character who cared to be around. “900μmHB#2. I see you’ve found yourself a shell - congratulations.”

He certainly did. Definitely. Very unconscious. - “Not everything,” Rebus replied. “What do you need?” “What would you require?” - Jack thought for a moment, motioning that Lyric should probably write down all there in the journal. “The first one, I think.” - “It was Malevolence.”

Frankly, I need to write up some other stuff - I’ll deal with more flashbacks later. - Rebus’s own systems interfaced with the lost nanites, sandboxing themselves so tampering would not spread throughout the network. Jack smiled. “Great. Shall we go?” - “Of course Bacon is a better Narrator than I; it is one of the only things he is.” Rebus smiled. “And I’m not here to stop you, Malevolence. I am here to help you.” - “Training with Conflict means very little - it might actually make you weaker.” Rebus chuckled. “You wish to operate under exact wording rather than intent? I am happy to oblige… I’ll give you the time, however - someone to wield that Blade would be of great significance when fighting the Witherlord.” Rebus took off his gauntlet, and stabbed the needle into his hand, right in the center of the burn scar from Redemption. - That was very strange, yet perfectly fitting. Rebus nodded. “You are correct. There are a number of reasons for this - one may be the sizable metaphysical explosion Malevolence just set off.” “Malevolence has surpassed me in pursuit of the Lost Page - I suspect that will quickly become significant to the Thread as a whole.” Rebus disappeared, off to continue his plans.

Rebus was truly worried - the Thread was stagnant, close to death. Sequence had thought the same, it seemed - everyone was invited to an unscheduled party. - “Neither. l’d thought you understood me better than this.” Rebus grinned, eyes glittering. “I’m not going to stop what is happening. I’m going to take advantage of it.” Rebus smiled - unlike the box, these cuffs certainly had gaps. He didn’t escape immediately, though - the element of surprise was important to maintain. That is indeed Nullite. - Ooh! This shall be good. That was truly intriguing… Rebus waited, watching his memories as he tried to make sense of the development. Rebus was there, standing on the path. Antagonist hummed, but he was patiently waiting to fight. Aelinor seemed to misunderstand the functionality of the Blade, but Unintelligible would be an acceptable opponent regardless.

Rebus raised an eyebrow at the box. Nullite was quite durable, but not indestructible. Power would be an issue, but there should be enough… Nothing happened outside the box. Rebus remained, gazing at the papers as though frozen in place. Jack nodded. “We should get the events at the mall too.” - “I could have said the same to you.” Rebus spun around in his chair, smiling. Antagonist hummed atop his head, almost as though it was laughing manically. “I am here, in part, to offer my congratulations. You’ve beaten me to the Page, and even avoided me reading it through your computer network.” Time passed. Cricket fought Malevolence, paying no heed to his actual nemesis. Rebus found other things to do, other ways to keep himself important. Then came the party. - Rebus laughed. “Oh, this is a setback, but it is far from over. The Witherlord is fundamentally unstable, narratively - especially when I still hold Antagonist.”

Rebus simply decohered, flowing through the bars of the cage as a cloud of nanomachines before rebuilding his body outside it. Assuming there to be gaps, that is. “Thank you very much!” Jack smiled at the shopkeeper as she left, then at Lyric. “Sure! We can use the last bit of the notebook for the various wisdom, and the front as your journal.” He wrote “shopkeeper: avoid Narrators and trouble” at the end of the book, then handed it over. Someone was laughing. A dark laugh, echoing throughout the warped space inside the vault. “Congratulations, Malevolence.” I concur - and I probably won’t even kill them this time.

“I could,” Rebus said, allowing Kyler a moment to get up. Unless something had gone wrong, Evaiya would be waking up now. Jack smiled, accepting the supplies. “Just been on out alone for some time - not used to people.” “Of course.” Rebus smiled, and the lights began to blink on. “Power matters less than you’d think - I am glad to have you as my employee.” That’s legitimately so cool.

I’m mostly bringing piecemeal dialogue from my ranting at that time, so the emotion is genuine but I can clean up the descriptions. Rebus would have said something - yelled at the Author, mustering every ounce of anger and melodrama. Instead, he ceased to exist. For a time, there was nothing within his Author’s mind - Heir slept, and so Rebus was cast into oblivion. That was terrifying, of course - but it was also empty of thoughts. When his Author woke, however, Rebus flitted on the edges of his mind - unable to act, to make any impact but an endless fog of resets, trapped in little bits of daydreams with neither continuity nor comfort. When Rebus returned to life, it was as he should be. He was calm, manipulative. “I know more than you seem to think - mere age does not determine wisdom. Creating history is not the same as changing it, but perhaps I was unreasonable in my judgement.” Storm was an Author, far more dangerous than he claimed Cricket to be. Still, the anger was important - he brought the feeling into his mind, allowing aggression to seep into his words. “I await the return you have promised. You may not have noticed the relevant post, but my Author did write the beginning of the duel after Cricket appeared to challenge me.” Rebus smiled - the ironic sort of smile one could make to make those you threatened feel you were very very dangerous. “You could alter what has occurred and pick up from there as though none of this has happened. Or you send all of this in a very different direction - because I too am dangerous.” Then he blinked out of existence, leaving only the memory of his words and the sound of a collapsing vacuum. - “Everything achieves something, Asharak.” Rebus gestured, sending a wave of fresh utility fog at him. “This building stops me from replenishing my power - outside it, I could surgically turn you into an elephant if I wanted to.” Rebus’s hand reconstituted itself, and be tried to flip Kyler to the ground.

Rebus spoke again, softly now - though still full of venom.“If every Author acted as you have, it would destroy this world far more surely than the mere release of the Witherlord. We would fall to chaos - nothing would matter, and none would care. So think on that, Author. Contemplate what you have done, and decide what it is you will do.” And then, Storm laughed at him.“You know nothing, Rebus.” Rebus seethed as the Author spoke of his age and Authority.“I'll have you know, I did not alter continuity, for no fight was happened. I merely altered the deal." "Rebus, beware. I am thinking, and . . . the time is ripe for Cricket's return. His full return. He is dangerous, and, he will not show mercy." It was almost funny. All this time Rebus had waited for Cricket’s return, and he goes to Malevolence while his Author says to beware it. No hard feelings, Storm - though at this time I was quite mad, this is merely a flashback to it. - Rebus raised an eyebrow - this would certainly make things harder. “Now, I assume you plan to fight me?” Rebus grinned, despite the blow, and his hand disassembled in front of Kyler’s face. The gauntlet unfolded and pulled back, but then his hand - skin, muscles, and bone - did the same, separating into component pieces. “I could take you apart atom-by-atom and put you back together again, if this place didn’t stop me from teleporting in more antimatter.”

Rebus, hovering, continued his rant.“You simply invalidate everything that has been agreed. Continuity is all that this world exists upon!” He was speaking fast, now, and getting louder and louder - it wouldn’t mean much to an Author, but something in the back of his mind knew anger mattered. “Only consensus keeps the Thread as a world. Only respect for decisions and events even allow all of this to exist! Without that, I could kill Cricket a thousand times over with no more effort than a breath. And yet it would mean nothing!” Rebus’s eyes flashed, punctuating the statement as it echoed in the sudden silence. - This… worked. The signals were accessible. The messages between nanomachines themselves made sense - part of it gave direct instructions, moving things around at nanoscale, while the remainder seemed to be bizarre self-modifying commands to relay further directions. From the outside, however, was much stranger. There was clearly some manner of heartbeat protocol, mixed with authentication, new directives in the same emergent compression, and messages of unknown purpose. Rebus frowned, running up the air - utility fog - and over Kyler’s head. Unless his Author was especially oblivious, Vieyk was someone new. “I have a lot of leverage - very little is impossible.” He said, dropping down behind Kyler and beginning to choke him. Nanomachines seeped through her pores, permeating her bloodstream and flooding it with chemicals. Oxygen to supplement what the lungs could gather, stimulants to wake her, and a dash of sedatives to prevent panic. Jack handed them over, tucking the butterfly back into his pocket. - Rebus was… worried. Not terrified - Bacon could be quite resilient - but this still established a clock to his own progress. There was a pirate flying on a frost whale there, as well as some unfathomably gigantic creatures. Each was larger than the last, and would swoop down to swallow it whole.

“What Author are you attempting to hide from - and how truly hidden do you wish to be?” Huh. Going back, I seem to have missed that Evaiya fell unconscious. Rebus’s nanomachines poked at Evaiya, evaluating the effects of Kyler’s strangling. Rebus raised an eyebrow, stepping forwards to grab his wrist and hold the knife away. “That man seems worse than I,” he said quietly, “in both morals and capabilities. I don’t know what he is doing to keep you in his employ, but I could get you out of here.”

Rebus smiled. Likewise for Glass: “Of course not,” Rebus said. “There are four different ways that this could be done - the ones not needing Authorial cooperation simply have side effects.” Rebus could have found him anyway - he glanced at the cabin and winked.

Rebus blinked, then laughed - not mocking, merely stunned by the audacity. “That… it depends upon what your goal is. While the world could be brought completely out of the Thread, anything short of that would rely on that Author to - for lack of a better word - allow the device to work.” Rebus stood there, waiting for Kyler to come at him again. He could negotiate with Cyrus, of course, but Evaiya was the one who actually wanted something from the man. “The deal’s off.” It was Storm, of course. Cricket’s Author, back after all that time only to invalidate all Rebus had waited for. Rebus’s hopes and schemes crumpled. Compassion and mirth were smothered in disappointmen. He smiled, eyes unfocused. It was his deepest facade, cracking as this man ruined the very foundation of Rebus’s world. The duel mattered - but the very foundation of reality, all that stood between TLT and oblivion, every bit of what allowed Rebus to exist? That mattered more. Rebus spoke slowly, rage barely contained. “So this is what you did.” Energy coalesced around him, fury channeled into magic. “You call off our ‘deal’.” Rebus was no longer smiling. His words came faster and harsher, outrage breaking through the fragile placidity. “You simply invalidate everything that has been agreed. Continuity is all that this world exists upon!” Rebus lifted off the ground, magic and rage holding him aloft. - Mindscaping the nanites proved quite effective - their operating systems evidently made them sapient enough for it to take effect. Their memories and fears were completely alien, however - strings of numbers and molecule-level actions, with neither self-preservation nor guilt. “Good.” Rebus said. Then he disappeared, recognizing that each plot thread he was in made it harder for his Author to answer everything in time. All eight of those could conceivably be Plotblades. My rule of thumb is to check TVTropes - if it has a page with at least a few literary examples, it can almost certainly work. Jack was visibly relieved. “The butterfly can run messages, but if there’s someone who can change the money that’s probably better for us both.” Rebus appeared almost instantly.

Rebus’s expression was a mix of bemused, intrigued, and vaguely disappointed - until Desolation spoke once more. Rebus grinned. “Desolation, I have a sci-fi aesthetic and a doctorate in Applied Metaphysics. What do you need made?” Rebus - calmly walking towards Kyler - held up four fingers. “I could give you these powers, if your boss gave me something in return.” Then he spun, sweeping his leg up for a roundhouse kick even as he continued speaking. “You could also defect, of course.”

“If you’re unwilling to accept favors, much of what I have to offer is either redundant or esoteric. An Ennuller core is likely the rarest physical object I possess - other than Antagonist and the other Plotblades, of course.” Then Rebus smiled. “Your blade works best on what it strikes, correct?” There was another shockwave, and Rebus appeared next to a mid-jump Kyler, his arm positioned such that it would impact on Kyler’s neck. That’s four-and-a-half flash steps remaining, if anyone cares. Jack rifled through his pockets, pulling out and returning several green pieces of paper in the process. He finally found what he wanted - a wind-up butterfly crafted from beautiful filigree.

“A physical piece of whatever it is Desolation is composed of - ink, I suppose - would be best, but if you can be around as Desolation absorbs a significant quantity of Narration, that would suffice.” Rebus launched forwards, a pillar of utility fog propelling him into the air at slightly more sedate - and efficient - speeds. Jack gulped. Maybe money would be a problem after all… “Like I said, we are travelers - cressmarks aren’t in use where we’re from. Anything else you’d take?”