Through the Living Heir

“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."

“Yours, actually.” Rebus said. “That’s why I don’t have anything in particular to ask of you. Unless you’d like to fight a reality-destroying nexus of dark power possessing a man who already wanted to become as evil as possible.” - “I’m not your father, but I do care about you. That’s not something I do lightly.” - Ameobus had left a trail of broken machinery and shattered reality in his wake, either trying to slow pursuit or replenish the Mordite he’d lost. Rebus suddenly grinned. Exposition. That was Bacon’s Plotblade, though I don’t think he ever used it. “Callbacks that are useful to me,” Rebus clarified. “I’ve approached a number of Narrators in parallel; I would need six for this to work as I intend.” “Well, my weapon would made out of modified Narrator cores.” Rebus shrugged. “There’s not many other options, though.” “Allies… Yes.” Rebus nodded slowly. “We can be allies. I don’t think our ultimate goals align, but for the time being I will assist you, and accept your help in return.” “Indeed,” Rebus said. “I have a device that can enable this travel, but Lore may still be necessary; the fuel it’s supposed to use doesn’t seem to canonically exist here.” “The alternate realities seem to be non-canon versions of this world, reminiscent of fan-fiction. I may be able to find, for instance, a man named Benevolence, who spared the life of a man he hated in order to bring the Luxsprites back.” Rebus smiled wryly. “I suspect you see the applications…” Jack frowned. “You should have it; we were recording things in case you lost your memories.” I’m not especially surprised. Perhaps, though, we’ll meet again. Rebus made a choking sound as the Symbol died, barely even aware of the Witherlord’s gloating. Kneeling in the darkness, Rebus felt only despair. Then a brief flash of pain, and then he felt nothing. - From across the Thread, Rebus watched helplessly. Symbol was dead, just like that. Grief crashed down on him even as the wave slammed into what had once been the truest version of him. He took a long, sobbing breath. And then he stopped. The burn from Redemption surged along his arm, but he halted it with a glance. “I will remember.” He didn’t smile, but he was no longer crying. “I will remember this. And I will remember Nameless.”

Rebus took a long breath, the Conversion Medallion around his neck. His Author's absence had been frustrating, but not utterly fruitless - trapped within daydreams, he had learned some of the Medallion's secrets. He took another breath, carefully sculpting the descriptions of his actions, and touched the Medallion to the core. It began to glow - not with the violent flash of the first experiment, but rather a steady light. Rebus smiled. "Five left, I suppose." "You are a Narrator, of course, but a blade also needs someone to wield it." Then Rebus smiled, his eyes glittering. Rebus grinned, eyes sparkling. "We certainly can..." "I have a conversion device." Rebus raised his eyebrow, just slightly - Renamed's reaction was intriguing. "I've been around long enough to have a few Chekhov's Guns." Uh oh. As memories came rushing back to Jack, he panicked - first as he realized the gravity of his surroundings, and again as he realized Lyric was wandering off. And then he had an idea. "Check your journal," he said softly. - Rebus reached for Symbol, desperately hoping that somehow... he didn't even know. Somehow he could fight the Witherlord himself with nothing but floating rocks and a liquid that drowned you if you touched it? Somehow he could bargain with a being that wanted the destruction of reality? Rebus fell to his knees, truly and completely beaten. - Of course you don't. I do admire your handwork - with the Medallion, not the fact our current predicament was even able to occur. The man - who hadn't gotten a name because he'd really been supposed to die quite speedily - was mildly uncomfortable. He'd never liked heights, nor being practically strangled by spooky mist dragons. That was a while ago. Template is still more-or-less around, though, should someone look for them. That's perfectly understandable. Of course, by the time I was done, it wouldn't be a sliver. Rebus grinned. As for replacements... I suppose I could give you some nanotech, or that magic system BftS borrowed, but I think I can do better than that. Rebus considered the question for a moment, missing the speed of thought his powers and enhancements provided. "I have no reason not to be." - "I will protect you." Rebus's voice was devoid of flippancy or false reassurance. - Ameobus reeled back, chips of Mordite and nanomachines scattered across the floor - his torso reforming as what had once been his head started to disintegrate on the ground. "Remember that even I warned you," it said, tongue crumbling to dust. Meanwhile, Ameobus's headless body flung the remaining dagger at Jack. It leapt, scuttling across the ceiling and into the vent that Jack's had been hiding. "Primarily, this concerns lore. Lore itself would certainly be an asset, but I fear for what could happen if it were wielded against Antagonist." Rebus smiled slightly. "I know you've spoken on time travel in the past. Universe travel, though, is largely uncharted - I'm met my daughter, from a world in which Symbol and I truly do get a happy ending. For a time, at least; Rebyl is stranded here, and her father disappeared in that accident." - They found a number of lights that seemed bent on destroying them. Nanomachines - mere specks of life and metal to the eyes of a withergeist - constructed lasers, while crew members with energy weapons had rushed belowdecks to protect the ship's drive.

"Luxite is the metal associated with Ordered Light. I can use your-" Rebus indicated to Corvus- "power to produce some, because Narration is of Chaotic Light." Rebus is definitely responsible for his death, but he's twisting words to make Cep a bit more likely to assist him. Rebus smiled. "I need Narrator cores - ideally six of them."

Rebus thought for a second, considering his word. "I am." Not that the response would make any sense, but being confusing was better than being shot. - I was thinking that part is before the attack, since it makes the timeline work better. Your choice if we want to do that, though. "That's the thing about Withergeists. They're weak, but they have numbers." - Amoebus continued to backpedal, clutching at his eye. Then he shook himself, pulling the dagger out and allowing his face to knit back together. Dagger in one hand, Mordite sword in the other, he swung at Jack with ferocious rapidity. As he did so, however, he spoke calmly and softly, face perfectly composed. "You shouldn't trust Rebus. He'll betray you-" another flurry of violent slashes- "because eventually, he always does." - Rebus nodded. "Good. Can you find either Nameless or Utility and get them to come here?" - @xinoehp512 "The powers of Ordered Light were used against the Witherlord during its previous incarnation, and a Luxite blade could kill it permanently. What I can do depends upon the resources I am given."

"I was." - "I don't know of anything here by that name. Can you describe-" Something rocked the ship, almost throwing them off their feet. - Amoebus ducked, and the second dagger thudded into his torso, slotting neatly between the Mordite in his skin. He gasped, stumbling backwards. - Rebus nodded. "Regardless, you seem to be new here." As soon as the coin was out of his hand, Jack blinked once more. Everything came rushing back, and he stumbled, briefly overwhelmed. Lyric, on the other hand, would probably forget what he had been doing. - Rebus let out a long, shaky breath. "It gave me time. Sometimes, that's all you can ask for." "I do." Rebus smiled. "I'm going to use our power to form a weapon which can be used against the Witherlord." The monster didn't care much. It drove its splintery claws into the recently deceased lumberjack's chest. He fatally wounded Cricket, and then Twinstorm put him out of his misery with a lightning bolt. "Regardless," Rebus smiled, seeming oddly cheerful for the circumstances, "the Witherlord is back. I'm the only one here who's brought forwards a plan, so I would like your help." The man was confused, since he hadn't been paying attention. The tree monster from earlier seemed to be tearing the bones out of the unfortunate lumberjack behind them. "Several plans, in fact - that's the best way to ensure one will work. One of mine needs you." - Rebus assembled a crystal in front of the light, directing beams of it to several withergeists. He was too late, though, some withergeists had already made it beneath the ship, where they couldn't be reached by the beams. "They'll likely try to break into the ship - we need to protect the energy cores."

A lumberjack had crossed paths with the ancestral foe of his kind - a tree. (Specifically, a bizarre tree monster that wants steal bones from a living being and wear it as a meat puppet). What else was their to do but battle? Yup. Rebus recommended shining lights in the weird disembodied eyes that have showed up. Jack blinked, which was a strange thing for him to be doing. He seemed almost like the man had been - and indeed, he held the coin that had been dropped. - As the Witherlord stepped Dynessence surged towards him, attracted by the powerful magic - and then blackened, its unstable state corrupted from Chaotic Light to Darkness. Rebus, finding none of those options especially appealing, decided to stall. "The Witherlord, come to kill me personally? I seem to have missed a lot." Rebus - his clone, powerless and regretful - looked up at the Author. "Dr. Clarke." Rebus said. - Rebus grinned. "Of course." - Ameobus cackled. "Your father has a good grasp of Mordite. The Witherlord, though?" He uppercut Jack, a Mordite blade stabbing out of his hand. "He is Mordite. And now so am I." - What Rebus is doing would have been the lesson he taught. - Rebus put his hand on her shoulder, and her capacity increased a hundredfold - his Narration powering her abilities. - You're probably third on the murderous rampage list. - Rebus was so baffled that he briefly snapped out of his murderous rage. "Did you eat a rabbit too?" Thaaanks. Unfortunately, my timing is terrible and I must now go to bed. "Perhaps Subversion will do my job for me." Rebus took a deep breath, and Fog's entire Ennulling field sucked towards him, shutting down not only his powers but the passage of time itself. "Then I can move on to the one responsible for you." And then he was frozen, and Subversion almost unrestrained - till Rebus returned, at least.

That was fine with the monster. It mostly wanted blood. How much is the man bleeding? The man followed, oblivious to the battle going on behind him. "Few here do - it's a great asset to me." Jack blinked at him. "Who are you again?" - Rebus swore. Repeatedly. The planet had been nearly impossible to reach even before the Witherlord established the blockade - all he could do now was wait, and hope his other self was clever enough to somehow prevail. The other Rebus sat besides Symbol - Keys was further from them - their rock floating above a shimmering ocean. He looked up at the sky, and swore. Repeatedly. - That was a clever plan - and a potent asset for Rebus's own planning. - The third explanation, I feel, makes the most sense. - Rebus gave a grateful nod. And then he turned, and he saw Atlas. "There's nothing inherently wrong with that. This is a world that started as fanfiction." - Rebus sighed again. "I'm sorry for some of the things I've done, but others I feel were justified." - More Mordite carapace sprung out to block the attack, and Ameobus gave an oddly feral screech. - It likely would have worked. That would have been the next lesson - the difference between an attempt and an action. - Rebus nodded. "Light. All Withergeists are effected by it, to varying degrees, and I can't imagine that large eyeballs do well with bright lights either." Would that relate to Rebus? - Rebus shook his head. "I did not kill Cricket, nor was I responsible for Symbol dying." The breath went out of Rebus's lungs. Atlas was dead. Just like that. Rebus stopped smiling. He didn't frown. He didn't laugh, or raise an eyebrow, or even cry. His face, instead, was blank - his shock and grief locked behind placid fury. "Oh?" His voice was venom that had frozen into the shape of mirth. "Handle Fog?" Rebus balled up his coat and tossed it to the side. He summoned his Narrationblade, holding it in his left hand - for his right was alight with magic and rage, wrapped in every power he had. Only his eyes were the same - there was no other sign of his true anger as he strode calmly through the violet churn of mist. "That is not the only thing I will do."

Rebus gave a terse nod, beginning to walk away. “I’m going to go offscreen to train - I should return with mastery of these powers.” He stepped through a door that had formed in a previously blank wall. It looked like the room inside was glowing - not the electronic colors that decorated most of his equipment, but a full spectrum of colors, shifting and melding together. - As Cep returned from the Mindscape, Rebus was standing there waiting for him. “Welcome back. There have been… developments in your absence.” The unfortunate man saw nothing wrong with this. “Yeah. I’ve been out here for a while - what’s a little more walking?” “It was not,” Rebus said. But light… Rebus began to glow, what remained of his nanomachines reducing their efficiency and broadcasting the light outwards. “Hello, Hawks.” Rebus quietly responded. - “An anti-villain.” Rebus sighed. “This world needs a villain - someone for the heroes to fight. I tried to fill that niche.” - Ameobus ran to match him. He lifted the sword - the robot arm still attached to the end - then jumped. - You can. Try it - there’s enough mist around that a normal person wouldn’t be able to see much anyway. The tree monster screeched back, skull-like head opening far too wide. It leapt upon the man, claws beginning to sprout leaves where they were stained with blood. Rebus nodded again. “I did. I was desperate - foolish options were all I had left. I believed I could control the Mantle, use Antagonist to undermine myself to the point that a Protagonist could defeat me.” He sighed. “Perhaps I was even right.” - Rebus let out a long breath. This… could be a problem. @Keke and @Shatter, the ship is being attacked. “There are powers above even the Authors. Names I am forbidden to speak.” - I think so. Rebus could send a powerless clone, and then “there is no spoon” his way back to being a Narrator.

Rebus raised an eyebrow. "I have doubts on the canonicality of your source, given that much of the forces involved relate to this world rather than BFtS - though if the journey can be made, that's likely an accurate predictor of the result." Really far back - a bit after Bat died. "I do - in fact, I'm think going to need to." Rebus flicked a piece of Prismite at medallion, and as expected, he was able to sculpt the magic and transform it to Nullite with barely a sound. The man, who might have been being attacked by a lumberjack, nodded. "How do we get there?" The tree monster, a little confused as to what was going on, leapt down in an attempt to finally catch some prey. Its skeletal limbs culminated in splintery claws - which it promptly raked across the man, trying to draw blood. Jack continued to be confused. - Rebus, meanwhile, watched these preparations with anticipation and no small amount of fear. Rebus had been using nanotech, trying to conserve his resources for a time they wouldn't be immediately countered. As Fog buoyed him upwards again, he prepared to cut his connection to this body, leaving it to die of Mordite wounds. And then little pieces of light shined into existence all around him, becoming glowing bits of metal surround him. Rebus wheezed as an excruciating pain wrapped around his hand, agony burning in defiance of any of his augmentations - and swarm of metal shards swept through the blades, blocking or diverting every one. That was good - as they began to wink out of existence Rebus had been reduced to gasping tears. "What. Just. Happened?" "I do." Rebus nodded, uncharacteristically solemn. He held up the letter, carefully storing a copy of its molecular structure - just in case. - They're going to the planet that Rebus built his actual inter-universe transport. Rebus, having nothing better to do, began to wander around. - "I base my decisions on elements of this world that might make me sound a bit crazy... Being a bad person was something I could do good through." - Ameobus jumped into the air, leaping over Jack and skittering to a stop, sword out. He cackled. "This is gonna be fun..." - You don't need to do that, Rebus noted. You should be able to see and understand everything that happens, regardless of your actual senses - looking at things is more relevant to your image than to actually gaining any knowledge.

The man frowned. “No offense, but you seem kinda evil. Dark mist isn’t usually a good sign.” Then his blade glowed, and he blinked. “Actually, you don’t seem so bad. Sure!” Rebus nodded, bringing down the shield and taking the medallion out of its clamp. “Nameless held it without explosions - I suspect it needs someone to shape the power.” I was reading the archives for flashback material, and found Asharak’s introduction. “I’m building a weapon to defeat him, but I need magical power beyond that of a single Narrator.” The tree monster slunk through the branches, positioning itself right above the musically undistinguished lumberjack. Rebus hovered in the air, anger beginning to build, then abruptly dropped to the ground. The blades stabbed into empty air, swooping downwards after the Narrator. Just as they were about to reach him, Rebus summoned his Narrationblade… and parried, knocking aside the deadly blades. “Ribbon’s dead?” He asked. “Ah. And you’re the one responsible. There’s a reason I haven’t attempted to bond myself to Mordite.” Perhaps that’s Bacon’s fault. Rebus nodded approvingly. - Rebus smiled, following him. The imprisoned clone watched, resolved to remaining where he was. - “You’re safer here than you might think, though the Witherlord might change that.” Rebus gave a wan smile. “I’m not the villain of this story - the Witherlord is. But I was the last one.” - Ameobus’s head snapped around, and he sneered. In a violent burst of movement, he tore an arm - sword and all - from a robot, then stood ready to face his new foe. - Very good, came Rebus’s voice. My physical body is ephemeral and irrelevant - to survive what Fog is doing, you may need to be the same. Rebus bowed his head. That was either the Destroyer or Onyx himself, and either deserved at least a semblance of respect. “Thank you,” he replied, voice - and hearing - amplified by his technology. “My name is Rebus.”

The man scowled. He’d only found it last week, but he’d already felt it was almost part of him. “Begone, foul misty stone long reptile thing - er, serpent!” The man spun, chopping wildly at the frightening Guardian. Rebus nodded back, approvingly. - “Indeed. I’d also prefer it if you stopped trying to kill me.” - Rebus gave a genuine smile, taking the sting of the gel with no reaction. - The first couple hit him, the explosions cracking the mended carapace. Then he snatched one from the air, and threw it back at the robots. What happened to the lumberjack? Rebus blinked. That had been quick. 1. Yes - they can innately read the posts in the Thread, though there are exceptions. 2. No - they have to know what something would do, but their magic is again on a metafictional level, altering descriptions of things. 3. Though he was once shorter than himself, he’s now perhaps the third-tallest in a room - regardless of who’s in that room. Once again, for weird metafictional reasons, however you picture him is sorta canon.

The Prismite abruptly converted, a few leftover fragments blasted into the air with a bang. The man finally noticed, and drew Dramatic Irony - though it was long after what would be expected from the noise. His grip was poor, the blade pointed downward, but his stance and footwork were very very good. The meaning of this was unlikely to be ascertained, for obvious reasons. The nanomachines, though diminishing, began to consume the ground to restock their number. Rebus had slipped the object - whatever it was - into his sleeve.“You’re not the only thousand-page callback to be found.” He smiled. “Now please, either make an attempt at bargaining, show yourself, or leave us to our training montage. I would rather not have to call you a decrepit excuse for a Narrator, nor blackmail Ribbon.” “Indeed. Ask around for a Narrator, and one should come into existence - if your Author creates them, they’ll lack the plot armor that protects even, say, Utility.” “Tone,” Rebus explained. “Emotional context matters, almost more than actual power does.” - “I’m making something that could be used to face the Witherlord head-on, but I need quite a lot of Prismite to do it. In fact, given your feelings on Narrators, this could benefit us both - I would have to strip your brother of his powers.” - “Actually, being a ‘magic guy’ gives me a few substances I’d react poorly to. You wouldn’t be using them, of course.” - Amoebus burst to life, Mordite carapace springing from his skin to block the blades - for even an entity such as him could be harmed by Mordite. He drew himself up, broken body merging together into a mass of Mordite and nanotech, and literally growled. “You’re right. You shouldn’t trust me in the slightest,” Rebus whispered, essentially inaudible. I’ll note Fog is either lying or misinformed - presumably on purpose. Rebus is trying to get to an alternate universe, but that’s inside the Thread, and is not to be reached by ship. Rebus looked around, a little surprised by the stillness, then continued to walk. He’d brought utility fog, of course - he’d seen bloodsucking flies assail the Traveler, and wanted no part in that - but refrained from bringing a vehicle; this journey deserved respect. Jack, still holding the coin, wandered blearily after him. - Rebus smiled. “I can provide some instruction, should you wish to trust me.”

Rebus nodded. "In that case, let us continue." The arm moved the crystal to the other point, and... Nothing happened. Again. Rebus frowned. "This might be the other one kind of nothing - I'd duck." "There are a number of them, but the easiest way to do this would be to find a new one - they'll lack plot armor compared to an established character." "You could hold your dragon," Rebus suggested. "I suspect it shall be needed." - "Actually, we need a Narrator - though your tricks here could be of use as well. If your scheme to kill me has any promise, we can use it on withergeists." - Rebus followed, occasionally glancing down at his arm to make sure it had stopped. - The carapace cracked all the way, and with a cry of pain, Wither-amoeba-Rebus fell out of the ceiling, blown almost in half. He lay on the ground, unmoving. The man whirled around, but saw nothing. Surely it had just been a small animal of some sort. Rebus frowned, his utility fog pushing back against the mist. "Having fun, are we?" Rebus asked, voice a bit mocking as he surreptitiously palmed an small object off his belt.

"The converter is trying to turn the Prismite into Prismite. Since Prismite is already Prismite, this does nothing." Rebus slowly nodded his head. "If the way this is set up makes sense, the point directly opposite should do what we want."

Nothing continued to happen. Wait, no. Things continued to happen. All the things that had been happening before continued, include nothing happening. Rebus's eyes widened. "Oh. The converter is turning Prismite into Prismite." The man continued not to notice, but his sword began to glow. Unbeknownst to the Lumberjack, the tree monster had started to follow him. - "Your son?" Jack asked, sounding a little spacey. "Whatever could have happened?" "Thank you very much," said the Author, seemingly to nobody. "Oh, and if I recall, Rebus converted your name to micrometers to get rid of the fraction." - Jack looked at his hand, and was mildly surprised. "I have one of those." - "That could work," continued Heir. "I'm probably not the best to talk to for this, of course - not even considering that I'm about to go to sleep."