Through the Living Heir

Rebus takes something from his pocket and tosses it into the nearest trash container, whatever form that may take. Walking smoothly away, he reaches a wall as a swarm of silver dust - which had formally been trash - leaps from the trash can and collects in front of him, forming a DJ booth. He begins remixing any already present music, modifying it with nanotech speakers and wave cancellations. Owen nods. “I wonder if anybody knows. Honestly, I wonder if anyone knows why silver stars are silver.” He takes a cookie, and bites into it. “These are really good! I can’t even remember the last time I had a homemade cookie. Thank you.” He can hear Tam, for reasons, but Beosta described out loud the destination. He thought that she was responsible - and I suppose she was, though Tam did the teleporting.

Dr. Warren shrugs. “Infrared radiation is a kind of light, but I suppose we can test it.” She begins to walk up the stairs.

Cole smiles brightly. “Great! Then I won’t get lost!” He turns to the others and slightly discreetly announces. “We have more things to do! And this time Intellect told me to do them - so they’re probably good ideas for fighting Rage.”

Rebus shrugs. “I can’t help you, then. I think it makes characters feel more alive and independent, or at least my Author does. But if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to send a particularly aggressive letter.” @Ookla the Cookie Collector, Rebus sends a physical letter to the Emperor and his staff through whatever packages would be sent through. “Wiping your own memories or directly lying about them isn’t helpful, either, but ok. Perhaps someone is impersonating you. Are there any guests at this party?” Owen takes both the teleporting and the stars with about the same amount of surprise. “Cool, how’d you do that? Do you know why the stars are colorful?” Owen had been mostly just following along, but when Eva comes in, he smiles at her kindly. “Thank you, I’d love one. I’m Owen.”

Rebus shrugs. “I’m real to my Author, so I’m real to me. I’m a piece of him, so my emotions and personality are real. Sometimes they are directly his emotions, and sometimes they are what he imagine the part of him I represent would feel. But my Author uses method acting, or method writing, I suppose, so the emotions and the things I feel are real feelings. And truly, I don’t care. Fictionality means I can do essentially whatever I want, which is nice. For instance, once you’re done interviewing me, I’m going to mail a Vonn Neumann machine to that Emperor person, because I find him haughty and annoying. That’s not something an Author could get away with in ‘real life’.” He doesn’t seem to notice that he also could be considered haughty and annoying, at least until the description points it out. He glowers at it. Owen shrugs back. “What? I like sandcastles.”

Owen continues smiling. Rebus looks at Lady Bug. “This is why I try not to make a bunch of copies of me. It’s not really important.” I thought I’d been quoted in there somewhere, but ok. That is the people I know of there. Owen sits down on the beach, and begins building a sandcastle next to the previous one, assuming it’s still intact. Rebus nods. “I can wait. It will probably take a long time for anything new to crop up, anyway.”

“Indeed!” The drone says in Rebus’s voice. “I’m Rebus - the drone makes it easier to be in several places at once, keep myself safe, and enter with style.” And then, with a whump and a completely unnecessary guitar riff, the drone sends out a bubble of force fields and Rebus teleports into it. Owen smiles at everyone - including the sand person - and shakes Beosta’s hand. “I’d love to travel with you all, if you would have me.” Rebus looks around, wondering how many people might be at this party. “Template, of course. My Author forbid me from manipulating their plot, unfortunately, but I’m watching with interest, for now at least.”

The drone looks around to figure out where elsewhere is, but Rebus's heart isn't really in it. Nobody lets me have fun. he thinks to himself.

Updated as of 1/17/25 (more to come, most likely - I’ll write out longer bios in their own pages, if people want them) Nick Bryer (Teleportations RP, although he hails from a story I’m writing). Nick is a creative xenoengineer from a futuristic world. As is his job, he solves problems with his own toolbox of biotechnology and anything strange he finds and can put to use. Veer (Insanity Clinic). Veer is a powerful telekinetic who entered the clinic because someone had turned his powers unpredictable. Having been cured, he is trying to decide whether to stay and what to make of the magical metal that now serves as his arm. Alvar (Bodyguards Wanted). A several generation hybrid with a strange combination of innate magic, Alvar is a mercenary who typically only looks out for himself. He’s combined his magic and athleticism to form a unique combat style using frozen blades he reshapes and sacrifices when they’re no longer useful, though he wishes he had the money to train his sorcery further. Cole (Great Spirits RP). Originally a simple carpenter with minor trauma from a ship fire, Cole has been connected to an entity known as Madness. Madness (or Freedom, as Cole prefers) has granted him wind magic, but also made Cole increasingly erratic and socially oblivious. Only his fellow travelers, the last vestiges of reason, and Madness’s instructions prevent him from wandering off into the wilderness or wantonly attacking people. Another Spirit called Calm has connected to him, potentially solving his problems. Dr. Warren (RP Ideas RP). An IISC diplomat and manager of the Ferria research station, Dr. Warren wants to make sure everyone is comfortable and everything is running smoothly. She truly loves her job, and is intrigued by the inexplicable visitors, and wants to learn as much as possible from them, and to establish contact with wherever they originated from. Kion (TLT). A mage with an odd magic - for TLT, not for his world - every spell Kion casts also strengthens a monster known as a Render, which hunts him always. Although willing to use magic for the greater good, eventually dying because of it, Kion is having an identity crisis due to the existence of Narrators, who make such a sacrifice unneeded. Rebus (TLT). A Narrator, Rebus utilizes advanced technology at every opportunity and embodies - exaggerates, really - his Author’s creativity, fascination with Sci-Fi, and cleverness, as well as flair for the dramatic and lack of attention span. He altered his own personality to suit his goals, and currently has several parallel machinations running. Template (TLT). Template is something odd, and still somewhat of a mystery. They have no details or identity unless it is given to them. Either mundane description or Narration can change them, but over time, changes evaporate. They can also steal or accidentally become affected by Narration. Mess with them, please; the whole point of the character is to make me better at improvisation. Sagerian (TLT). Nicknamed Sagerian for his scholarly tendencies, he’s travelled to the main area of TLT to write a book of all the wonderful things he finds, then bring it back to his almost-industrial homeland. He knows some advanced science from travelers from other realms, but wants to know more. Meat the Minstrel (TLT). Some of Bacon’s lost memories made contact with a terrible idea, and Meat was born. He’s a walking fever dream, making everything around him absurd and somewhat disturbing. He can be summoned by saying “drab eht nocab” three times. Capt’n Exposition (TLT). A strange man who rides around on a frost whale, explaining lore and context to all the lubber, land or otherwise. The Mysterious Ball of Darkness (TLT). Nobody has talked to it yet, but it’s interesting. The other mysterious ball of darkness (TLT). Rebus performed an ill-advised experiment with Nullite, and made a floating ball of nanotechnology and Ennulling energy. Lightning arcs towards it, for as of yet unexplained reasons. Fourth (Drominad Hunger Games). After the former GM Third died, Fourth has taken up the mantle of wildlife coordinator. He’s inherited his predecessor’s job, Aviar, drastic change in attitude upon becoming a GM, and uncanny ability to manage all the wild animals. He’s dedicated to seeing which tribute should survive, and envies his fellow GMs for their own control over the Games.

“If you know where you are, I’m not lost any more. I’ve been traveling to no destination in particular - I wanted an adventure, to see the world. I can come with you, if you’d like.” Rebus raises an eyebrow at the inexplicably conveyed message. Co-opting Lady Bug’s bug, he sends back his reply. “Very well - it will be more interesting than being here, at least.” A drone zips up to Lady Bug, force fields emanating from it with a whump. The way thus cleared, Rebus is teleported into the resulting vacuum. “Is the party here, or am I early?” he says, snatching the drone (which he is controlling, but such a move looks cool) from the air, having his nanotechnology glove dissemble and store it. “At least I get a longer description than our mutual friend.”

Owen shrugs. “I’ve moved around a lot over my life, and regardless, you wouldn’t recognize any of the places I’ve lived. This place is beautiful, though. What are you four doing here?” Watching through the Thread, Rebus fumes. Why does the new person get to do everything? I’m supposed to be my Author’s face character. I’ve been talking to three or four people, but not one of them has done anything.

Owen shakes it firmly. “I’m Owen. It’s nice to meet you too.” He smiles back at Bat.

@Ookla the Inconclusive and @oOklA thE shInyYyy A young man walks out of the jungle, his face lighting up as he sees Shoe, Beosta, Gaioh, and Bat. He walks over. “You wouldn’t believe how happy I am to see other people! I’m lost, you see.” He chuckles wryly. “Not that I had anything important to do, of course.”

She doesn’t press the issue. Even if a human was used to the durable mechanical technology of the inner stars, they’d still know the capabilities of the more flexible and temporary biotechnology of the frontier. The man probably just needed something that the station couldn’t manufacture.

Dr. Warren blinks. “You don’t need to sleep? That’s odd, but not unheard of. But the shadows being prevented by light, but not heat - which is light - or any sort of high energy electromagnetic waves - which are invisible forms of light that are everywhere - is odd. We’ll do some tests, if you would be willing.”

Dr. Warren continues getting more excited. “So you’re a ghost? And heat destroys these shadows, which are made from you? Regardless, you likely need rest. We can get you a room - one is growing as we speak - and I or another researcher will interview you after our sleep cycle - tomorrow is difficult to quantify on a planet that spends months as day and then months as night.” Dr. Warren withdraws the hand she had held out to the bird, noting its compassionate behavior towards the human man. She’d have to get the bird to at least interact with a researcher eventually, but there was no need to frighten or anger it now by trying too hard. The floor of the hallway is soft, made from organic fabric just like everything else seems to be. Dr. Warren kneels down next to him, having noticed his distress. “Are you ok? I’m here to help, if you need anything.”

Owen nods again. “I will, don’t worry. I will not fail you.” The ant device slips from his mind, as does the memory of being instructed. He prepares to be teleported to somewhere he can learn things.

Template smiles. “I will learn, and I will forget being told my identity. Shall I have a way to send you my discoveries, even if I will not know you?” Owen smiles again, the memories of his directives fading away, though their results still stand as his being.

Dr. Warren’s brow furrows in confusion, but her eyes light up with interest. “I’ve read about this sort of thing - self-propagating electromagnetic structures more complex than light. Is it harder for you to create these shadow structures when it is dark and cold around them? The darkness could be an effect of changing light into other forms of energy. And what do you mean by not being here? Can you pass through things, as an energy construct? I could probably spend two or three decades studying just this one capability - although of course I could also spend two or three decades studying one human capability.” She tries to alleviate Pyre’s suspicion, though truly, this is a very difficult task even with two way communication. “If so, do you need anything? Do you have a name?” She reaches out a hand close to Pyre, but not quite able to touch the bird. Such a thing is a common sign of friendship and acknowledgment for many cultures and animals, and should hopefully help.

Dr. Warren looks at Pyre with genuine warmth and interest. “Hello there, little one. You can understand me, correct?” Dr. Warren jumps slightly when Adtae appears, but quickly regains her composure. “Hello, my name is Dr. Warren. I am the head researcher here and a licensed diplomat for the IISC. I’m sorry, but we need to avoid any contamination, as this is a very special planet. Does your darkness serve that function? I’d be interested in studying it; if you would be willing, on behalf of your planet and species, to join or consider joining the IISC, we can share our respective technologies and resources to our mutual benefit. I’ll see if I can find people to interview all three of you, but first you’re likely exhausted, so we’ll get you rooms.”

It is easy. It is much much too easy to do this. Template becomes a person, handsome yet approachable. They repeat back what you have said. “I am soft spoken and sweet. I am trustworthy. I am observant, my senses beyond human. I lack history, and truly, identity, if you wish to remove it. I wish to know all I can, no matter the cost. I am Owen now, and I am yours.” Owen smiles at Lady Bug. “Hello, my name’s Owen. It’s nice to meet you.” He looks around in awe at the landscape around him, raw and almost formless, like he dimly knows he had been. “Where are we?”

Adtae is a walking antibiotic, correct? Now that I think about it he would have noticed the parts of the car he touched dying. But that will prevent some problems, at the cost of causing others. @Ookla the Mom Friend @Ookla the Inconclusive The person who pulled you out speaks with the cadence of something she’s repeated many times. “I’m sorry if you are disoriented, but understand that we intend to welcome you as best we can. My name is Doctor Warren, and I am the manager of this research station and a registered diplomat of the IISC. I’ve very excited to meet you.” She does something and the lights become dimmer. The room around you is small, effective a hallway to access some upward stairs across from you. The walls aren’t made from the black material, but they do look fabric-like, yielding soft outlines to the unobtrusively green-blue room. The whole place has an organic feel, the light diffusing through areas in the ceiling and the lack of crisp corners. Oh, and the fact that the wall just grew around someone and spat them out inside it. That also makes the place feel like a living thing, if not a pleasant one.

They look at Lady Bug. “Hello.” Then they go back to just existing. As for the result of examining them, there is no significant features. In fact, there are essentially no details at all; Template barely exists on a Narrative level.

I read that, but Rebus’s drone didn’t, so explanation and description will be needed anyway. Rebus’s drone looks around again. Rebus, in his control room, waits for the description of the area before he activates it. He’d dropped it into the focus of this plot, so he didn’t know where or with whom it had appeared. It was for the other Author and the winds of the plot to decide. Rebus, far away in a room full of utility fog and control screens, shudders. “Note to self: avoid that person. Whoever they may be.” Then he catches another impression from the Thread. “What?” He goes to teleport to the disturbance- THAT IS FORBIDDEN, REBUS. You should not interfere with your own characters, you should know this. Other Authors should have this role, not you. Rebus snaps back to canonical reality, dazed from being spoken to directly by his Author. “What was that for? I want to do something! Let me do something - don’t make more characters! I’m bored!” But his Author gives no further response. Out in the somewhere of the Thread, Template wakes up. They observe where they are, and then simply exist. There is nothing they want and nothing they need, so they do nothing.

Your friends made a joke, right? Or maybe it’s almost. Kion, listening quietly to the planning for rest and shelter, blinks. “Me? My name is Kion. You’re Casi, right?” That was the post I was referring to, where only the emperor is mentioned as a character. The small drone looks around to see where it is now, the pilot - Rebus, of course - dimly aware of Authors mettleing with its location.